I’m up, waiting for the Cinnamon Raisin Bread I, (okay, my bread machine), baked to cool so I can cover it without fear of it becoming icky with condensation.
I realized, at 8:30 tonight, that I had nothing for the girls’ breakfast tomorrow morning. I also realized that I didn’t feel like going out to the store to get anything for said breakfast, so I decided to improvise, which is why I am still up after midnight. Bread takes awhile, ya’ll.
What’s more, I realized that I don’t mind so much. I don’t mind any of it–I actually ENJOY it. All of it. Okay, maybe not ALL of it (the puke and runny diapers I could do without). But, I don’t feel like running from the house screaming when faced with the bad parts of being a parent.
I’m also not saying I don’t have a bad day, and that I don’t lose my temper, nor am I saying that I don’t sometimes feel I need a break. What I am saying is that, good and bad, this is what I want in life.
I always thought I wanted this huge career, lots of money, status, etc. etc. Because I grew up without that, and I wanted to “show them all” how awesome I had become. What I am realizing is that I did that ten and a half years ago, simply by graduating high school and leaving for college. I was the first in my family to do that (on my mom’s side–aside from Cosmetology school). I further cemented that six and a half years ago when I graduated college.
I worked for the second largest newspaper in one of the largest metropolitan areas in the country, maybe not as a reporter, but in an assistant editorial sector, and then as my own account executive in a special niche department that utilized many of the things I learned in college. While there, even though I was not in the actual newsroom, I realized that it wasn’t for me. My heart wasn’t into it. I was treading water until I figured out what I wanted to do with my life.
Enter Olivia. Suddenly, I knew. I knew that she was what I wanted to do with my life. And then, Sophia came along, that sweet girl who gave me such calm and confidence in my abilities as a mother, because now, NOW I had two.
I cherished (and cherish) every single breath that those two girls take, every moment, even when I am frustrated, I can’t help but smile.
I’m sorry.
I’m sorry because that’s boring. I’m not a successful blogger partially because I’m boring. I wrote lots of good stuff when I was depressed and sad and on medication. “Deep piece of work”, my English professors would always comment. “Keep at this, dig deeper” they encouraged.
So I dug, trying to find out the meaning of my life, what I was supposed to do, why I had all of these things inside, why I wanted to write them.
I no longer need to dig.