Last week, I had what one would call a well-balanced day: I climbed out of bed at 5:15 a.m. for a 6-mile run, coming home just in time to make my kids a hot breakfast and send them off to school with a home-packed lunch. I tidied the house, attended a PTA meeting, called my sister, caught up with a friend at the local library, squeezed in a reading/piano lesson with my preschooler and spent a few hours on my latest manuscript. I rushed home in time to collect all the kids, usher them through homework/piano practice/violin practice and serve the family yet another homecooked meal with not one, but two vegetable side dishes. After everyone was in bed I tidied the house, prepped lunches for the next day, read my scriptures, and promptly collapsed in bed.
Before I went to sleep I texted my sister: “I’m exhausted.” Her reply: “The price of perfection.”