Fast forward ten years of marriage: three kids, a mortgage payment, putting three meals on the table daily, 14,000 loads of laundry a week (I kid… or do I?), and sometimes I don’t feel like loving him. I feel like complaining. I feel like moping because sometimes it seems like no one cares about mama’s feeling in the midst of the chaos. I feel like I might explode some days. But I choose to love