Am I in the Wrong Place?

Bloggy Moms' Blog Dare -- Am I in the Wrong Place?

I've asked myself this question a million times -- in the wrong relationships, in the wrong college courses, in the wrong city.

I'm blessed to have a happy marriage and a husband who has stuck by his vows and who has proven over and over again that he will put up with absolutely anything, with an undying loyalty like nothing I've ever experienced. Still, when he lets recycleables pile up or refuses to take out the trash, I ask myself, "Is he the one for me?" I'm laughing out loud as I write this, because 1. It's true, and 2. It's absolutely ridiculous.

The only place I don't question is the empty space by my daughter's side, the space that I so perfectly fit into.

In this space, I have suffered physical, emotional, and verbal abuse, which ebbed and flowed as I attempted to correct it.

In this space, I have waited through time-outs and temper tantrums. I've been hit in the face with a plastic ball, a flip-flop, green beans.

In this space, I have been thrown up on, pooped on. (One second, I'm gagging a bit here.)

Yesterday, in this space, while I made lasagna for dinner, she stood beside me and screamed at the top of her lungs over and over... and over again for a full 5 minutes.

Yet, this question did not once cross my mind: "Am I in the wrong place?"

In this space, I have concluded time-outs with gentle words, read bedtime stories, dried tears, wiped a runny nose, received hugs and kisses, and laughed until my sides hurt. I've heard the words "I love you" for the first time, and "Mommy."

I so rightfully belong in this place, anchored to this spot.