a butcher, a baker, a candlestick maker

there are three things I want to be when I grow up.
Sure, there are lots of other things, like an artist, a photographer, a journalist, a chef, a young women's president, a surf bum, a french whatever, a filmmaker, a musicen....
But there are three main things. Three things that I WILL BE in the next ten years, so help me.

- a teacher

- a writer

- a mother

I know, talk about classic, cliché mormon girl at BYU. Some days I wake up wanting to be one of the above so bad it hurts.
I've been sore all week.
For real, my stomach hurts, I can't concentrate. I get simultaneously amazed and astonished that I can be so close to all these things, and then freak out at the possibility that they might all be so far in the future.

This is not a joke, ask Lauren, or Travis. I make lesson plans.
All the time. Toady I was reading literature from the Harlem Renaissance for my American Literature class, and I was planning how to teach Langston Hughes. I thought of assignments, and discussions, I was trying to think about how to test the kids on different concepts.
My favorite game (especially to keep my mind busy when I'm modeling) is to pretend I'm a teacher introducing myself to my new class.
"Hello, I'm your teacher, Ms. Froelich," I say. "Just to help you guys get to know me a little better, I'm going to introduce myself. I went to BYU, and graduated with a degree in English Teaching, and Comparative Literature, and got a minor in French. I lived in France for four months on a study abroad, and then in London for almost a year, studying British Literature and Culture. I have two books published, and another coming out in May."
I say.
Then I talk about my husband and how he's something awesome or other. Then they ask questions.
"Oh, are you related to Becky Froelich, the singer/song-writer?" one asks.
"Actually, that's also me!" I say.
"You went to BYU?" one asks, "Did you ever meet [insert all my friends who I know will be famous]"
"Why, yes!" I say. "We're the best of friends, I'll see if he/she will come in to meet you all."

lalala.
Okay. I know that's fake. I know that I will probably have nothing cooler to say than "I'm Becky. I went to BYU. I grew up in the Midwest." but here's hoping, right?

The second thing I want to be is a writer. Honestly, I feel like I might be closer to this goal than any of the others. Not to sound vain, but I am a pretty good writer. You guys only get the crappy, poorly written tip of the ice berg on this blog. I am almost finished with a book, and I think if I can get an agent to represent me, then I can sell it.
All I ever do is write. I go through about a journal a month, as well as this blog, and let me just promise, my blog and journal say very different things.
I also am in the midst of writing at least two actual books. I love it. I love it. I eat/breathe/andsleep it.

and lastly, I want to be a mother.
Okay. I am very against those young women activities where the teacher is like "Let's write down everything about your future husband and how great he's going to be, and all your kids names, and blah blah blah."
I hate it. BBBUUT, call me a hypocrite.
I have all my kids' rooms decorated. I have names picked out. I can almost taste the baby shower cake. I see babies or children anywhere, in church, in a store, on camous, outside and I start making faces and noises, and trying to think of ways to steal the child and make it call me mommy.
Don't freak out. I will not actually kidnap your child.
I just get teary-eyed when I see people holding babies: people or kittens. Whatever. I can't handle it. I stalk through tons of blogs, and weep, (yes weep, I cried for a half hour today) looking through pictures of their children.
Don't get me wrong. I can wait a couple more years. I'm not going to jump the next man I see, or take home the next baby I pass....
but I always kind of want to.

how's that for a delve into my crazy mind?