If I could change one thing about my husband, it would be how often he puts himself first.

If my husband could change one thing about me, it would be how often I don't.

And, I'm going to assume that maybe many of you can relate.

A pretty regular point of contention in my household is that I complain, pretty often, that I don't have enough time for me and the things that make me happy and that I don't get enough help around the house.

My husband's gripe, on the other hand, is that I never take or make the time for me and the things I need or enjoy and that it's entirely not fair for me to be peeved that he does.

As a mother of three, with undiagnosed, but self-identified anxiety about pretty much anything under the sun, I find motherhood and marriage and tending to my job and passions to be really freakin' hard work.

Add to that steady visits to the gym to keep my mom biscuit looking tight(ish) and I'm spent.

Don't get me wrong, though, because all I ever wanted, since a very young age, was to be someone's wife and three little someone's mommy.

But, now, I also want to write a book,
maybe start meditating,
grow my hair out,
lose like 10 lbs,
keep my marriage afloat,
and raise good, kind mini-humans.

And, so, I'm finding it super challenging to balance my growth as a person while trying to grow with a person while trying to raise three people.

And, so, I complain.

And complain.

And complain.

Not because I'm ungrateful.

Not because I don't realize what a true blessing it is to have a messy home, an extremely hardworking and supportive husband, and multiple exhausting love nuggets.

But, because I know just how important it is for my self-care that I don't swallow every single one of my emotions and conversely, let them the fudge out whenever I need to.

They may be overdramatic.

They may be irrational.

They may waver from extreme to extreme.

They may ooze out of my being onto unsuspecting souls within the vicinity.

One poor soul is the hubs, and even though it's not my intention, occasionally my griping can bleed onto his being, and remove him from his self-imposed carefree state as I drag him -- unwillingly -- to join me in grumbleland.

But, not anymore, 'cause I'm going to work on this.

I'm going to put myself first instead of last.

I'm going to value my needs even if that means I tend to others slightly less or secondly.

I'll probably keep complaining because let's be honest, it would be impossible to stop fully, but I'm going to curtail it a bit and work my darndest to remember this:

That there is no greater adventure in life than experiencing moments next to the people you love experiencing moments of their own.

And, when that occurs, there is this whole, bigger, ridiculously fantastic adventure you take.

You grow,
they grow,
you grow together
and then before you know it,
more defining moments appear on the horizon
for all of you.

But, growth and adventure can't and won't happen if you don't value you enough to tend and care for yourself in whatever form that looks like for you.

Earlier I said that if I could change one thing about my husband, it would be how often he puts himself first, but I change my mind.

I want him to keep taking care of himself because I need an example to follow, and there's no one better.