Well, so many reasons not to...
Today the lesson in RS was on talents and yes, it is what it is, and I have no argument against how important it is to discover and develop talents. On the contrary, would that I would act upon the desire I have to do
My point, and I do have one, is that I've been struggling with this for a while now. Like more intensely than ever before. In a more frantic way than before. Cuz BEFORE I've always had most of my attention and time taken up by just being a Mom and all that entails. I could push away those nagging wishes and desires. The W's and D's would nag at me because I know me and all the thinking in the world that someday when I have the time I'm gonna put some effort into moi and see what I might be good at was just rubbish. I knew then and I know now that I'm so far down stuck in my comfort zone that I need a flashlight. It's a dark place.
Yes, I do still have a child have at home and all the more reason to wonder what I'm going to do when he does go off to mission and/or college and I'm really alone all day.
I began to think over my reasons for staying stuck and I do have a one legitimate excuse. First, before I begin explaining myself, it is important to remember that what one person thinks is worth trying and doing is gonna be different than another's.
Enter my excuse. Now, I know that I really have no ability, or at least haven't developed one, to write. But for as long as I remember that is what I've wanted to do. And if this desire is something so powerful as to stay with me through all the years of not acting upon it, then shouldn't I take that as a clue and make writing a priority? Second part of my excuse. If I sit down to write, maybe I should write while standing?, and I see how fast the time flies on by and someone walks into the room and sees me STILL on the computer, I feel SO guilty for what I then feel like is wasting time. If I was doing laundry or scrubbing toilets for the same amount of time, well, our clothes would be a cleaner and our bathrooms, more sanitary. But I wouldn't feel any satisfaction, and I don't think those are talents I need to develop anyway. (I'm kinda great at laundering actually).
So there. That's all I'm gonna say about that.
Today is Father's Day. Since Kevin is not my father, I'm not feeling the need to say anything about him. Other than that I love him more everyday and he is the best a father can be, no joke. Let me say this, I do feel badly for the inequality between Mother's Day and Father's. And it's not just at our house. They don't do a thing for them at church. Do Fathers care? I dunno.
I have always had a weird relationship with my own father. I notice all the outpouring of praise towards fathers as I troll through the internet today, and I feel funny about it. Not haha funny. More like what happened to me and my father? When did our relationship fail? Sure we talk once in a while, but it's just surface stuff and I never really know what he thinks about life. Other than I probably got my sense of optimism from him. Which I'm not saying is a good thing.
This isn't a recent development, it has always been this way between us. But I find that if I worry about it, along with a thousand other things, it just makes me feel worse. Not to be selfish, but making myself feel guilty about another thing I don't need. I just wonder what it would be like to have a father I knew much about. I was a misunderstood child and a rotten teenager, so I know I must have made it pretty difficult for us to form a real bond.
So, I stop myself there. My father is a good man and has had a lot of crap to deal with, so delving into why things are the way they are is pointless.
Today in church a little baby boy did that little hunch over the back move and slid under the bench in front of us. I looked up at his dad and made the motion of me picking up the baby and handing the child over the bench. He kinda shrugged his shoulders, and baby boy seemed pretty satisfied just standing there at the bench that we silently mutually agreed that he was fine to take a look around.
It reminded me of the things little ones have a tradition of doing at church. Crawling under the bench is one. Facing backwards and staring at the congregation, exchanging grins with whoever their eye connects with. Peek a boo generally ensues. Then there's the ubiquitous sound of a head cracking against the wooden part of the bench and the delayed wail. There are the cries of 'don't spank me' as a child is rushed of the chapel. Although, with Jake it was always, 'please take me out and spank me'. He knew that meant he could run the halls. (For the record, we never spanked our babies at church). I actually love the quiet murmur of baby noises rolling through the chapel.
Yet, I really don't do babies. They don't like me and they can sense how I feel and usually cry if I make any advances towards them. (MY babies were different, of course. I still want them to sit on my lap and tell me everything, which they don't. Well, Wes still does, but my other babies not so much. Some not at all).
Back to the story. So, cute little chubby baby boy starts inching his way towards me with a chunky lil board book gripped in his lil chubby hands. I felt pretty good about things, cuz baby boy kept coming my way, waving his book in the air, and seemed to be perfectly happy with the way things were going. So, I played with him a bit, leaning over once towards Wes and whispering to him that maybe we should get ourselves a baby, and went back to leaning way over to play with baby boy. He was a darling boy and eventually turned around with his arms outstretched towards his daddy, who quickly picked him up, hugging him that way a daddy will do. Sigh. I didn't make the baby cry. Best part of the meeting for me.
As soon as I sat up straight Wes grabbed my arm and anxiously whispered, "Are you too old to have a baby?". Yes, I assured him. I made his day then. Wes and I share our feelings for the little boogers.
Trust me, I'm not trying to write this well. I'm just writing, that's all.
