Am I the only one that sits around and wonders what I want out of life. Surely I'm not. I love my days honestly I was cleaning up my kitchen thinking I love my days, whether they are extremely productive like yesterday, or not so much like today, or I'm as tired as get out, like last week.
But I think my kids are the most adorable melds of flesh the earth could produce. I love their soft skin and plushiness. My son is quickly losing his, he no longer has a gut?! But I still love him all the same, especially with his brown curly locks, big super dark brown eyes and golden sun kissed skin. He is a heartthrob, I'm always surprised how often he gets complemented. My brother saw my kids today, and said J, you look like a boy that spends all your days outside. I said well he does. He was wearing a t shirt, atheltic shorts, and no shoes. He has scraps and bruises all over his legs (a few on his arms) and a bandaid over the most recent. Can you really think of any better way for a four year old to look? He does us proud to be covered in scraps and bruises and to play in dirt. He might be smelly, he might have sand in his hair, he definitely has dirty finger nails (which honestly I could do without) but he looks like a boy that plays outside, and really there is nothing he could do that would make his father and I prouder at his age.
He is growing up too fast, but oh my daughter is still so plushy and soft. My favorite is when my daughter's gut hangs out over her jeans under her shirt that is too short, but the right width for her with her diaper corners sticking out. Oh it makes me want to smother her in kisses. Which is what I assume is my job, I think it was Modern Family that taught me smother and mother is the same, no one has ever been sfathered to death. Thank goodness I'm the mom, so I get to smother.
Anyway, back to my expectations in life. What are they? I don't know?
In some circles I have the perfect family, a boy and girl, I'm done, I'm lucky. In some ways it is so perfect, and it feels perfect for now, but it one day we will need someone else for my daughter to boss around. Her personality is that of an older sister not a baby sister. She will always be J's younger sister, but she is not the baby of the family, I can tell her personality was not meant for that.
In other circles my family is just begun, they want a whole household full of love and noise. I see their perspective, I like to think I'm in the middle of that. Who knows... I know noise overwhelmed me to no end. Which is why my baby is still the only baby in our lives, she makes too much noise, she spends too much of the day crying for us to want another who cries for hours each day.
So in some ways I have no idea what I want.
I know I have no desire to leave my babies while they are babies.
I know I don't want my kids to be 25 and look back and think I didn't have a life other than living through them.
I know I love to craft, I know I hate selling my crafts.
I doubt I'll ever regret my Polsci degree. Sometimes it seems not so useful, but its my passion. Its MINE. Mine as not me as a mom, not me as a wife, like me as in me the person I am when the house is empty. Although, ehh, maybe passion is not the word, I'm terrible about reading news. But I really just love it (politics, not the news, technically the news and politics are different, that's the problem I so much of the news is not politics).
I know I never want to give up or leave or try to escape. And I never want to feel like that. (If you are confused at the implications of that one, don't worry I know what I'm talking about it and that's whats important.)
On a side note, the other day it was really weird, like bad weird.
I was changing my daughter's diaper, and I thought what if I'm not capable of doing anything other than having kids, and taking care of them. Maybe I'm not smart enough to do anything else, I better have more kids. WEIRD right?! Its one of those things that when you look back at the memory, everything seems dark even though it was daytime. I walked in the kitchen afterward to get some chores done, but felt overwhelmed with fear that I wasn't good enough to do anything other then "barefoot and pregnant". I remember seeing a corner of the fridge and thinking fear is not the same thing as faith. Then right there and then, I was fine, I realized it was not the Lord telling me that. (By the way I don't think motherhood is for the stupid, I don't think any of the things that were pushed in my head, that is the point is it was weird, foreign felt wrong.)
In fact I don't even think motherhood melts the brain as people say. I think motherhood connects us to a different part of our brain than we normally don't execrise in our society. Its primeval, its raw, but its a very real intelligence that is needed for motherhood. Motherhood connects you to your gut that tells you when things are right and wrong, it connects to apart of our soul that is determined to make the next generation survive, thrive, and excel. I mean how many times has a mother turned around at the exact right time to pull the toddler away from the oven, instead of pulling out dinner. Or how many times do you turn around to catch your kid falling when you had no idea that you were even turned around until the kid was in your arms. Yeah it makes it challenging to make presentations that would be acceptable to a boardroom, or makes profound comments in a college class that gets your professor to notice you out of the crowd, but it doesn't mean it doesn't exercise the brain to the fullest. It just a different part, at least in my opinion. I mean like the other day when I asked my son if he wanted chicken nuggets. He said no I only like dinosaur ones, I said what about cloud ones, do you like cloud ones? Oh yeah, I like those too. I don't know where that came from, it just hit me, motherhood provides plenty quick on your toe moments.
Anyway, I'm off topic again. I always wonder what I want in life, what will I be doing when my kids are in school, or as teenagers. Will find some sort of political thing to do, will find something else, will I craft as much? I don't know I don't even know what I want to be doing. There is so much fun in the world that sounds fun. I'm glad I found a man who supports me and who helps me realize when I'm doing something that actually makes me miserable, and then pushes me towards what brings me joy. I'm so young, I have so much time to fill up as the years go on. Sometimes I wish I was 5 or 10 years older when I had my son so I could be done with my one boy and one girl, what most people tell me is I'm so lucky. But I know that's not actually what I want. But what I know I don't want is for people to think I'm 1o years older than I am when my kids are older. Luckily I married a man who looks really young so hopefully he keeps me that way too. Not to mention the word of wisdom, no drinking and such helps aging gracefully. Plus I have been trying to exercise regularly so I age gracefully. Yes, I'm vain. But I always want to be healthy, feeling healthy is such a nice feeling.
But I remembered the point of this novel. I knew exactly what I wanted in high school. Sure I made stupid mistakes, I have regrets but I wasn't one of those teenagers who wandered around making mistakes, wandering around being aimless because they didn't know who they were or what they wanted. I knew who I was, I didn't do what I didn't want to do, I did what I wanted, I acted antisocial when I wanted to, because I didn't care about playing the high school game. To the point of getting in trouble in middle school, I never let people push me around. But all the plans I made in middle school and high school about my life, pretty much disappeared after the first week of college when my met my husband. All of my plans except for graduating from college with an undergrad, sort of faded. I knew I could achieve my plans, and I still honestly think I could have done everything I wanted, but Brent wouldn't have been there. I knew my life with Brent would be better than what I had been planning for the last 5+ years. So I gave it up. And now I'm .... I'm well I'm who I am right now. I'm happy, but I wonder where does that put me in 5 or 10 years, 15, or 20. I don't know what I want to do when I grow up any more. I want more education, I want work experience, but I don't want the next degree that I thought I did.
Does it really matter? Probably not, but it's still nice to have a plan. I sort of feel planless. I have no idea how many younger siblings my daughter will get to boss around. I have no idea what degree I would pursue next, I could think of about 5 of the top of my head that sound interesting, I have no idea what I would want to do if I wanted to earn some money. I don't even know where I want to move, with my husband and kids.
All I know right now, is I don't want to be a motivational speaker. Silly I know.
When I hear people talk, I think what the heck makes you think you are so dang special. I know I'm awful, that what's what I think. Salesman don't work on me, the more they push the quicker I am to walking out the door. (Not to say all salesman are ill effective on me, some can up-sale, as long as they aren't pushy.) Anyway, on that happy note. I'm planless, but ok, I'm happy. I have squishy kids, (that's what I tell them, and call them, my squishy squishy.) Plus I adore my husband, even if he doesn't give me his undivided attention for four hours day. If he did neither of us would be productive so you know life goes on. And merrily it goes.
Now making reservations, who wants to go to "The Farm" with us this summer?
My son wanted some sling action too. He barely fit, and there was absolutely no walking. He wanted me to walk, I said no.
It was kind of cold outside and although I let my four year old get out without a coat, that seemed irresponsible to do with my baby. So I wrapped her in a blanket.
Nothing like a headlock from your older sibling when you are still the baby. She looks so much like my dad's baby pictures in this shot I think, minus the headlock. My dad is the oldest so I doubt there was anyone to grab his head.
I love it, she looks like an Indian, I know racist sounding. But you know all those pictures of the Europeans infecting the Indians with blankets that what she looks like to me. Ahh, small pox.
Still continuing on our journey. I was pretty sure we were never going to make it to our campsite, that is why we couldn't stop in Dixie Forest.
