Last August I made a goal for myself to write in my blog for a year. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday before noon.
I wouldn't say I failed miserably, but I mean, if you read this blog with any regularity you know that my summer writing was a miserable failure.
Part of that is our CRAPPY computer. Part of it is all the little trips we took. The largest part is the never-ending job of dressing and helping and herding and hugging and feeding all these little people.
And I complain, don't I? Because if you read this blog with any regularity you know I complain. Why should I, when I love my children more than anything?
You can love someone and want them to leave you alone. You can love them more than any other human being and want to put duct tape over their mouth (no, I have not put duct tape over their mouth).
It has taken time for me to realize that the feeling of love does not transform you. Feeling love does not make you a better person. Giving love, giving everything you have (as I have had to do with young children) - a soft answer when you want to scream, an additional kiss or conversation when you want to go to bed, another chocolate milk when you just want to sit down, your time, your precious time when all you want to do is sleep or sit quietly - has somehow left me with more than it took.
There are a lot of things I don't know, but I know this. It has left me with more than it took. Which, you know. It's taken so much. And I've realized that my happiness is not about what I possess, but what I have become.
I'm sitting here crying as I write this! I must be tired.
I wouldn't say I failed miserably, but I mean, if you read this blog with any regularity you know that my summer writing was a miserable failure.
Part of that is our CRAPPY computer. Part of it is all the little trips we took. The largest part is the never-ending job of dressing and helping and herding and hugging and feeding all these little people.
And I complain, don't I? Because if you read this blog with any regularity you know I complain. Why should I, when I love my children more than anything?
You can love someone and want them to leave you alone. You can love them more than any other human being and want to put duct tape over their mouth (no, I have not put duct tape over their mouth).
It has taken time for me to realize that the feeling of love does not transform you. Feeling love does not make you a better person. Giving love, giving everything you have (as I have had to do with young children) - a soft answer when you want to scream, an additional kiss or conversation when you want to go to bed, another chocolate milk when you just want to sit down, your time, your precious time when all you want to do is sleep or sit quietly - has somehow left me with more than it took.
There are a lot of things I don't know, but I know this. It has left me with more than it took. Which, you know. It's taken so much. And I've realized that my happiness is not about what I possess, but what I have become.
I'm sitting here crying as I write this! I must be tired.
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| I read. |
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| I get kites in the air. |
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| I carry. |
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| I take littles potty. In the road. In the middle of winter. While my husband takes pictures. |
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