Indeed, it's a wonderful world

My five-year-old son climbed aboard the school bus and roared off to kindergarten today, and although I did shed a tear at his impatient "I want to go now," I'm doing surprisingly well at the moment. My three-year-old and I spent the morning running errands, picking up library books, and baking brownies. She's now taking her nap, and I'm glad to have two hours to myself. I don't plan on doing much—no laundry or dishes or other chores. Instead, I think I'll read and celebrate the fact that I'm making it through the day. And you know what? I'm happy. ☺

Louis Armstrong's "What a Wonderful World" has always held special meaning for me, and the lyrics have been going through my mind most of the day. I love this video. Armstrong's smile is infectious—who could feel anything but happy?



How is your day going, friends?

What will their dreams be?

Today's 100 words:

It was my mom who told me that I should be a writer. I guess she saw something in me way back when I was young and spending much of my free time scribbling away in notebooks. It's been my own dream for just as long. Now I look at my kids and wonder what their dreams will be. Will my daughter's love of animals turn into a career as a veterinarian? Will my son's love of trains and cars and singing factor into his future plans?

Both of my children love books. Will they be writers, too?

She believes

Today's 100 words:

I never knew him, but I've been told that my grandpa--my mom's father--loved to write. My mom always says that I get my writing abilities and love of words and language from him, which may be true if those sorts of things can be passed down through the generations. Mom has always encouraged me to write. She tells me about contests she learns of and urges me to enter; she wants me to publish books. I know that I'll always have her support. She believes in me--maybe sometimes too much--but I'll always be grateful for that.

Mom

This morning's 100 words:

I was thinking the other day about growing up, how things seemed simpler then, and I remembered an evening when my parents were working in the garage, staining furniture for the new-addition bedroom my sister and I were to share. It's a fleeting memory--I was still very young--but I remember how hard my parents were working, and I can picture my mom as she bent over a dresser, brush in her hand, stopping every few minutes to wave the annoying hum of a mosquito from her ear.

Yesterday was Mom's birthday. Happy 74th birthday, Mom!

Wisdom passed down, memories cherished

"Each day of our lives we make deposits in the memory banks of our children." ~Charles R. Swindoll, evangelical Christian pastor

I have so many wonderful memories of the days I shared with my mother as I was growing up. She stayed at home with my sister and me, and I remember many times when she would drop whatever it was she was doing--chopping vegetables for a stew, vacuuming, working on the books for Dad's business--and play with us, helping us to build a fort made out of blankets and chairs or reading our favorite books over and over or showing us how we could turn the kitchen bar stools into makeshift horses and ride them into the sunset... And even after I started school and teachers and homework became the new focus of my days, my mother continued to be the person I could count on to be there waiting for me as I got off the bus each day, ready with a snack and an ear. I loved those after-school conversations!

When I entered the turbulent high school years, my mother became my confidant. Of course we had moments when we clashed, when we couldn't see eye to eye about makeup or boyfriends or curfews, but still I sought out her advice when teenage life seemed too treacherous to navigate. I knew she was there, that I never had to go through anything alone, and that was a comfort.

The six years I spent earning my college degrees brought new changes and challenges to my life: serious relationships, concerns about how to put myself through school, decisions about what to do after I graduated... Mom was always willing to give me advice, but she didn't step in unless I asked her. Sometimes I took her advice, and sometimes I didn't, but the talks we had about things that were important to me--and to her--are some of the best memories I have of that period of my life.

And now that I have children of my own, I appreciate more and more the things that my mother taught me, the things she did for me, her many sacrifices, and the effort she made to make sure that I had good memories of growing up, snapshots of life that I'll always cherish. She showed me what being a caring parent means, and I think about her example every day as I try to be the best possible mother I can be.

If I can be only half as good as my mother, I will feel like a success.

The Power of Words

Yesterday's post about having no words got me thinking about words and the effect they have on our relationships with others. I posted this at another site this morning:

Life is all about the words. The words we say; the words we don't say. The words we don't think to say until it's too late; the words that seem to fly out of our mouths unbidden, causing hurt and ruining relationships. The words we wish we would have said, had we not been afraid of reactions, of consequences. Words that wound and heal. Our relationships are built on words. They have life and power. They reveal us more than our actions; they peer into our hearts; they, more than anything, show who we really are inside. Who are we?

Who am I? What do my words reveal?

I think that sometimes my words show that I'm a loving mom and wife and daughter and friend, someone who genuinely cares about others and wants to do everything possible to help them. On other days, my words are harsh; they show the stress I feel inside, the anger and frustration that tend to come to the surface inexplicably and at the worst times. I'm guilty of letting my words fly without really thinking about them, letting them go like bullets aiming to take down anything in their path. It's easy to forget that words can wound. When I was in elementary school and the kids would pick on me, my mom taught me to say, "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me." Well, words do hurt; they can hurt a lot. I've felt that hurt, and I know that I've caused that hurt as well, too many times.

So who am I?

I'm a woman who tries (and often fails) to choose words that reflect the person I feel I am deep in my heart--to show the goodness that I know is there, even though it's sometimes hidden by stress and anxiety and worry. And, like everyone else, I'm just doing the best I can.

Keep reaching

I watched American Idol tonight, and I have so much admiration for those young people who are striving to realize their dreams. Seeing their drive and determination inspires me and makes me realize that if I want to achieve my goals, I need to find a way to make them happen. Having children is a full-time job, and my life is busier now than ever before. But nothing should--can--stand in the way of something I really want. I think of all the people, especially the mothers, who are far busier than I am, who have full-time jobs outside the home, then return each night to their full-time job as mom, and so many of them are pursuing their dreams and finding success. If they can do it, surely I can too. If writing is important to me--and it is--then I need to work harder to make it a priority--not someday but now.

Series regular? Not a chance.

On another site, I wrote recently about the fact that as a mom, I feel like I'm no longer the star of my own life. Since I had children, I've worked mainly behind the scenes, most often putting my kids and husband first and myself and my interests second. All moms (and probably most dads as well) know how this is: before kids, when we wanted to do something spontaneous, like see a movie or drive off to another city and spend the night in some hotel, we could. It was easier making time for our own interests and pursuits, as we had no one to answer to but ourselves (and maybe our spouses). Now, however, it's impossible to be spontaneous or to even plan alone time without checking our children's schedules and scrambling to find a reliable babysitter. Things change once the baby comes home--there's no doubt about that.

So I've stopped being the star. This isn't The Dana Show, and I'm no longer a series regular. Does this bother me? I'd be dishonest if I said that it didn't, at least sometimes. Being a mom means being unselfish with our time--but of course that doesn't mean that we shouldn't strive to find a little time for ourselves too.