A stack of unread magazines stares at me from the center of our coffee table. I can’t pass by them without feeling a mixture of guilt about not having read them and dread about when I could possibly find the time.
This is nuts, I think. As a stay-at-home mom of three boys, I’m doing the best I can. I beat myself up on a daily basis on the things I can do better. Unread magazines shouldn’t even make the short list.
What’s even crazier is if I do read them will I really begin to dress like Carrie Underwood? Will my thighs resemble the cover model of Health? Will I prepare the luscious recipe for salmon on page 124 with ingredients I can’t pronounce? Let’s get real. It’s a resounding no.
I try to not worry about things I can’t change. With lacrosse and baseball practices crowding the already overflowing calendar, I don’t foresee a week of free reading in my future. I pack up the magazines and head out to give them to someone who might like to read them and have the time.
I mean, really, one of us should have those thighs.