And I Thought I Was Losing Brain Cells Before

A couple of months ago, I mentioned in my family blog that I felt like I had nothing to do, that I was losing my brain cells from being a SAHM. I couldn't have been more wrong! I have so much on my calendar that I'm a living episode of "Hoarders: Buried Alive!" I don't even have time to expedite a book club that my sister and I started at the beginning of the year. I don't think it helped any that our members were less than enthusiastic about reading different kinds of literature. (Ex. one doesn't want to read series [there goes Hunger Games and Harry Potter], another doesn't want to read books she had to read in high school [so long classics and thought-provoking works], another is so defensive that anything religious is inflammatory. Makes for interesting group of contributors and books to choose from doesn't it? I'm afraid I'll be calling my sister and telling her we're gonna have to wait until after May to start up again. Yeah, procrastinators!!!

And it's only going to get worse in the next few weeks. I mentioned in my last post, the dance rehearsals for the Centennial, but when I have the next four Saturdays accounted for it makes me wish I never said I liked having a busy schedule. I wish I was ten again. Where Saturday afternoons were perfect to catch movies from the 80s and the films no one bothered to buy. I am the youngest of seven so by the time I was ten, two sisters were married with a kid each, and one was living away from home and the other three were teenagers.

Back to the present: I'm so nervous that I'm going to forget something so important that I'm constantly turning on my smartphone, pulling up the calendar just to make sure I don't skip over any minute detail. Has that ever happened to you? When your life is so scheduled down to the minute that you just wish you could take a 100 years nap like Rip VanWinkle? Although, that brings up an interesting observation. I would miss out on all the events that got me to the final destination.

Have you ever seen "Click" an Adam Sandler movie that came out in 2006?

I really appreciated the moral of the story; as much as we would like to fast forward all the mundane parts of our lives, we miss out on the journey. A wise man counseled me before I got married to the hubs, "Live in the now, because you'll miss out on the present if you're constantly thinking about what the future holds." I have really tried to put that counsel into my life especially as a mother. Little F will grow up all too soon, so I try to cherish every stage he reaches instead of constantly dwelling on the times when he'll be more independent and less reliant on me.

Song for a Fifth Child, by Ruth Hamilton, 1958

Mother, oh Mother, come shake out your cloth
empty the dustpan, poison the moth,
hang out the washing and butter the bread,
sew on a button and make up a bed.
Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?
She’s up in the nursery, blissfully rocking.

Oh, I’ve grown shiftless as Little Boy Blue
(lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).
Dishes are waiting and bills are past due
(pat-a-cake, darling, and peek, peekaboo).
The shopping’s not done and there’s nothing for stew
and out in the yard there’s a hullabaloo
but I’m playing Kanga and this is my Roo.
Look! Aren’t her eyes the most wonderful hue?
(lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).

The cleaning and scrubbing will wait till tomorrow,
for children grow up, as I’ve learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down, cobwebs. Dust go to sleep.
I’m rocking my baby and babies don’t keep.

My eyes are welling with tears just thinking about my little man that recently turned two! I think most mothers would agree that their child/children are the best. I have a good'un! He's incredibly thoughtful and polite. His smile takes over his whole face, his eyes squish to near non-existence, his teeth shine brightly from his half-moon mouth.

Did I do him justice? As much as I like to pride myself on being a good writer, I always worry that my point won't convey to the reader. The picture above satisfies the visual learner in me.

And I just realized that my writing blog is becoming less and less about writing and/or becoming a good writer as my personal life creeps in more and more. Who knows, I may just combine my two passions: writing and becoming a better wife and mother into this nifty little blog.

Until then,

just keep writing, just keep writing.

Monday's Child

Do you know the poem, "Monday's Child"? It was my earliest memory of reading. My mother had one of those Little Golden Books full of nursery rhymes and that one was always my favorite.

Monday's Child

Monday's child is fair of face,

Tuesday's child is full of grace,

Wednesday's child is full of woe,

Thursday's child has far to go,

Friday's child is loving and giving,

Saturday's child works hard for his living,

And the child that is born on the Sabbath day

Is bonny and blithe, and good and gay.

I too was born on a Monday and as far as this poem serving as a horoscope goes, it is still true to this day. Even growing up in a hot climate-where the sun shines 345 days of the year-I managed to stay fair. The European roots of my ancestry holding too hard onto me, I suppose. Always jealous of the girls in my class that could tan, I bet they don't get confused with teenagers. That was really embarrassing when I was six months pregnant with my son and working at a high school. I even wore a different ring on my left hand that was more obvious to prove I was in fact a married lady. Speaking of which, I have been married over eight years and have an almost two year old little boy.

My little guy was born on a Tuesday, and he is the most observant little boy I've ever met. I'm not ashamed to admit that I'm a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, or a Mormon as we're more commonly known, I think. And my little boy has been close to heaven since the day he was born. At a young age, he's learned to fold his arms for prayers and says "Bless you" after he or someone else sneezes. My little angel, born on a Tuesday is full of grace.

My husband, was born on a Thursday. When I think back to the poem I chuckle quietly to myself because it is so fitting for my little family of three. When I first met my husband, he wanted to study international business, then he decided to go the route of business management (not that different right?) all while working for a student loan company. Then he got laid off and had to find a job. He doesn't do well with not having anything to do. He came across a company that seemed to fit for him, however menial his tasks seemed. It was while working at this job that he got heavy in economics, specifically the Austrian Economics philosophy of economics (if you are even at all interested, my husband would be so proud first of all and secondly, here is the address http://mises.org/) Then, he decided he wanted to become an Economics teacher. When he realized that he would have to take too many classes to cover an undergrad degree in Economics, the idea of becoming an instructor in the field waned. He, I hope, has found a joy in his current line of work. It would certainly open a lot of doors for him to attend economic conferences with the Mises Institute in his spare time as a hobby. This Thursday's child has far to go and has gone far too.

I will try and post once a week as I work through Natalie Goldberg's "Writing Down the Bones" an excellent book to help the writer who doesn't want to give up on writing. I wish I could say I was this excited to go through her book when I had to for college creative writing class, but here's to trying. I'm somewhat glad that college bookstores are terrible for trying to sell gently used books back, but I probably wouldn't be in possession of half the books I bought if the bookstore took them back.

~ Lady Jane