Life isn't always what you expect.

"Alright, all I need now are your keys."

Slowly, reluctantly I handed the keys to my husband. The keys to my sweet SUV. I loved that car. As I watched my husband drive away with it, I started to cry. More than that. I was sobbing. We were trading in our hip little Honda for a monstrosity: a minivan.

There were several things I promised myself in college. In addition to living without regrets, I promised myself that I would never be domestic. I would never be one of those middle-aged suburban women with decade-specific style who look forward to Tupperware parties.

Now, look at me: I am the very definition of domestic. I am thirty, a wife and stay-at-home-mom to two; living in a safe suburb. I have a mortgage and a minivan. My last night-out was to a Pampered Chef party. Boy, was I excited to go to that! I spend my days planning healthy meals, cleaning house, and evaluating my kids' activities and TV shows. What has happened to me?! This is not the life I was meant to live.

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