Being a mom is not a glamorous job.  Being a mom looks much better on paper than it is in reality.  When I first found out I was pregnant all I could imagine was baking cookies with my daughter or playing catch with my son or the cute homemade mother’s day cards stuck to the refrigerator.  No one told me about the 5:30 am 15 minute conversation about the piece of lint on the carpet with my 18 month old or the 7:00 am temper tantrum because we ran out of Fruit Loops.  No one told me my mind would turn to mush because I could go eight straight hours with no intellectual conversation whatsoever unless you count the memory game as intellectual stimulation.  No one told me that as soon as I had children my life would be broken down into one and a half hour increments.  Every hour and a half I have to stop what I am doing to: take the older kids to school, take the younger kids to preschool, walk the dog, pick up the younger kids from preschool, do some grocery shopping, walk the dog, pick up the older kids from school, throw in a load of laundry, help with homework, fix dinner, take the kids to their evening activities, clean up dinner dishes, pick up the kids from evening activities, walk the dog, give the younger kids baths, fold the laundry, fix lunches for tomorrow, go to bed.  And within those hour and a half increments in which you may find time to do something for yourself all you hear is, “I’m hungry. She hit me.  I’m bored.  Can I . . .?  Mom, watch this.”  It seemed as if there was a kid in my face at all times.  I think I went ten years without a nap.