But that's just today

-
It's a 'feeling sorry for myself' kind of day.

Not that I do feel sorry for myself, I really don't. I know how lucky I am that my husband is employed, that we have food to eat, that we have a house and things in it, that we have clothes and shoes and all the necessary things of life. I know how lucky I am that my kids are healthy, growing, mine, happy, spoiled, rotten, housed, fed, blah, blah, blah. I've had this conversation with myself all day.

What on earth do I have to be mopey about?

I can see myself from the outside. I can see that my mouth is curving down at the edges when it should be curving up. I see that I'm impatient. I can see that my eyes are heavy, I can feel the grittiness beneath my lids. But it's not tired-heavy. It's sour-heavy.

I have nothing to complain about today. I love my house. I love my kids. I love my husband.

But the thought of getting up out of this chair and cooking for them - I don't love that. The idea of converting my daughter's room to the new playroom (because she always sleeps with her brother on his bottom bunk now, and they both like it) makes me want to lock myself in the bathroom. The thought of finding out why Carly just closed the bedroom door - because that can't be good - is just exhausting. I don't have the will. Or the way.

When you're driving east to my house on Route 66 (because we live right off Route 66, the famous highway, Josh will tell you) you top this little rise and suddenly the valley tapers off in front of you. Far in the distance is the fuzzy, blue-gray outline of some mountains. They seem small, so far off. But they can't be if I can see them from here. They're big. And I could drive to get there. But it's farther than I need to go. That little mountain range takes my breath away every. single. time. Not because it's the biggest or the most beautiful, but because it represents hope. And steadiness. And patience. It represents this journey.

And today the journey is hard. Not because I'm weighed down by burdens, not because I need more or want more. But because it's tedious. One foot in front of the other, day after day, and those mountains seem like they're never going to get any closer. And when I reach them, I'll have to climb them.

And today, that seems too hard to do.

Popular posts from this blog

Dear Carly,

-
Image
I assume that one day you will come to me wanting to know who you are, where you came from, where your other family is and why they gave you to us.  I offer you little bits of information already, but certainly not crumbs enough to satisfy the appetite.  Perhaps it won't matter to you.  I am assuming a lot, already, about how adoption will impact your life. People often wonder why adoptive parents are hurt when their children seek out biological roots.  I have the answer, and it's very simple.  Adoption - at its core - makes us question the legality, authority, voracity, and validity of parenthood.  For most adoptive parents, first you must come to terms with an issue that strikes at the foundations of mortality: fertility.  From birth, most of us are driven to form families.  First we are nestlings, nurtured and weened and eventually taught to fly.  Then we are nest-builders, filling our lives with the stuff necessary to drive life forwar...
Read more

M is for Mother

-
Motherhood is more than carrying a child in your womb for 9 months. Motherhood is more than daily wiping of noses, cleaning of faces, filling of bellies. Motherhood is more than driving, shopping, cleaning, cooking. Motherhood is part of being a Woman, but not all of it. It is part of growing up, for some of us. It is conducive to gaining appreciation, but not for everyone. I was still a child myself, really, when I became a Mother. Joshua and I did a lot of growing up together. We both learned a lot about sacrifice. I learned how to say good-bye to him in the morning, he learned that separation from Mother wasn't such a bad thing after all. Especially since he got to go to Grandma's house (which, sorry Disney, was the happiest place on earth). I learned I could love someone until my heart might burst and be completely enraged at the same time. He learned that the wrinkling of my forehead was not a good sign for anyone. We learned a lot about time, more specifically abo...
Read more

thirty two

-
Image
Today is the big day, the day when I roll over from 31 ( just barely old) to 32 (aka old and can't deny it) . The funny thing is, I don't feel 32. I feel just like I did at 22, just maybe a little less scared. There are a few gray hairs tucked in the brown, there are a few wrinkles under the chubbiness of my 'baby face'. I can't say that I'm feeling the aches and pains of a body weighed down by years. I don't. Except perhaps my ankles which are stiff in the mornings from my bad habit of tripping on my own feet . The march of years is fairly kind to us, I think. We feel the same though our bodies keep climbing that mortal hill. Today I'm going to celebrate being alive . I'm going to eat good food, share good company, laugh while I tickle my kids. I'm going to take a long nap (hopefully) and just be glad for one more day, one more week, one more month, one more year. Oh, and I'm going to sport this super cute and sassy hair cut curteousy of ...
Read more