I cannot write! I have been trying to write something awe inspiring, heart rending, something bound to bring tears to the driest of eyes, that will double you over with such laughter that you’ll swear it was ab day at the gym. Something that will inspire you to go out and change the world! But I’m not even motivated enough to get up and change my sheets, so you’ll just have to give a little grace here. It’s not happening. Nothing. Zilch. Nada.
Today, I will just resort to writing what I know. Lists. I make lists. You see, I have so many responsibilities…I know…that’s a scary thought…and there are many people in my life that I must keep happy. It’s a heavy weight for these freckled shoulders, but often times, the smiles and “thank yous” ease the soreness in my tired body and undernourished heart. I can’t keep up, and woe is me if I drop the ball. So, I write it down. Lists are my constant companions (yes, plural). That is what I’ll write today. Yet this list will be for me. My wants. Desires. Dreams. This list will be my heart’s cry. Welcome to it.
I want my children to know I love them. When they were placed in my arms, I thanked God for allowing me to be their mother. I asked Him to bless their precious birth mothers who were just babies themselves. No matter what happens in the future, I never EVER want them to doubt my love for them.
I want to bring joy. I absolutely love to make people smile, laugh. I used to say that my favorite song is the sound of laughter that I’ve helped bring about. I love looking out from the stage and seeing smiles on faces as I’m singing. I think I’m at my best when I’m bringing on the happy. Many times I’ve been told, “You are just something else!” Thank you, I think? HAHA! A lot of my humor is at my own expense. I learned to do this at an early age. My father was always joking about my weight. He gave me a nickname of “Petunia”…Porky Pig’s girlfriend. Yep. Daddys, you can do a lot of damage to your daughters with just one nickname. To this day, I look in the mirror and see Petunia, the ever chubby little girl who was never good enough…ever So, I make jokes about me before you have the opportunity. Keep ’em laughing! They won’t see that you aren’t!
I want romance. He doesn’t have to be madly in love with me. I just need him to think about me, want to spend time with me, care for me. I want to feel like I am important to someone. It’s exhausting to always feel like I’m doing something wrong, I look the wrong way, or I’m simply in his way. It’s as if I’m a mill stone around his neck, just weighing him down, holding him back. I don’t measure up, ever. So I want to feel like I measure up…Like I’m enough for someone. I crave the feel of strong arms around me, just holding me, learning me, bonding with me, enjoying me, caring. Even if just for a while. A few sacred moments.
I want the nameless remembered, the friendless loved, orphans set in families. I know that sounds vague. It comes from lyrics I heard in a song recently and it kind of stuck with me. My mind was still on my recent encounter with “my” Marine/Hero (see my blog “Permission To Hug This Marine”) so it really resonated with me. I am a firm believer that each life is precious. We all have something to offer…something to add to this God damned world. People get lost. They disappear. With no one to care for them, they can simply slip away. It hurts my heart. They were once someone’s baby. A tiny infant in someone’s arms, full of promise. How do people just fall through the cracks? What can I do to stop it?
I want to get it right. Even now, I hear him in the kitchen rattling the dishes around in the sink. That’s his way of letting me know that I’m not working fast enough, that those dishes are in his way. And he is annoyed. The socks were in the wrong drawer. The little one brought dirty baseball cleats inside and the floors weren’t swept before bedtime. Maybe he isn’t that big of a jerk. Maybe I just don’t work hard enough. Maybe if all of these things were done right, then I could earn his love. If I hadn’t been the exhausted mom with a newborn, who didn’t get a shower sometimes until after lunch, and if I didn’t struggle with migraines and depression, and the stress of a second adoption, and moving our family yet again, and had kept a spotless house, a fit body, perfectly positive and happy attitude all the time, maybe he wouldn’t have turned to her. Maybe I would have been enough. And maybe monkeys would have flown out of my ass!!! Right?! He has his expectations. I have my plans. But I do feel there are so many things at which I’m failing miserably. I need to just get things right. Stop messing up.
I want to be more careful with my heart. In my need for affection, I’ve allowed too many in. I’m being drawn, compelled. I have roles in my life that I must fulfill. I’m good at playing these roles. Yet when I’m with this one, talking to this one, I am myself. My true self. It’s refreshing, soothing, healing. I’ve revealed too much to too many. Must. Be. Careful. With. The. Heart.
I want a nap. Yes. Don’t re-read that. I’m being honest. Were you expecting a well written piece of literature? Hi. Are you new here? I don’t sleep much. My mind won’t shut off and his chainsaw-like snoring won’t shut up! So, on my list. Nap. You know what I would love?! A stormy day with that special someone, stormy day sex is the best, windows open a bit so you can smell the rain, hear the gentle rumble of thunder, see the sheer curtains being blown around by the wind. Being worn out from loving on each other, falling asleep all tangled up in each other, only to wake and do it all over again. No schedules. No worries of others. Just focused, relaxed attention. But until that day comes, I will settle for a nap. Just a nap.
I want to be finished with this blog for now. I keep writing and I keep hating it. I hear him clearing his throat downstairs. He knows I’m not folding the laundry. He knows I’m doing this frivolous thing. There are still so many wants. If I keep writing, I’m afraid of seeming like an ungrateful brat. I want. I want. Well, I want you to enjoy your day, your weekend, your life! There is much to do, yet much to enjoy!
Now if you’ll excuse me….this nap isn’t going to take itself.