Thursday, August 9, 2012

To infinity and beyond

The other day, I'm sitting at my in-laws and talking to my Grandmother-in-law about this blog, and how I haven't written in so long and how she was glad to see that I was back at it (even though it was only one post in a matter of months.) Regardless, it got me thinking about how I used to sit here, everyday, talking about the smallest things to my most precious memories. How more people than I thought tuned in to read about my completely normal, somewhat boring life.
And how I loved being able to share my life with the people that I love whom I don't necessarily see that often.

Naturally, I started to wonder why I stopped writing in the first place. Why I let go of the one thing I love to do so much. I can't even blame my in-the-works book. I haven't written there in weeks. I have nothing and no one to blame except myself and the fact that I can never finish anything.

This can be proven by the three different books I started, sitting in my Documents tab, that are all well over fifty thousand words.

I just can't seem to find the motivation to finish something that takes too much effort.
Working out?
Forget it.
Fixing up that yellow high waisted skirt that I made and absolutely love?
Decorating our room?
I have more important things to do.

I don't know where to find motivation- or if it's something that can be found. Or maybe it's more like I don't know how to kick lazy. 'Cause I know that's what it is. You can say it. It won't hurt my feelings.
Is wanting something enough to change you?
It's not.
You have to need it. Crave it. Breathe it.
You have to wake up one day and realize that it's not good enough to have good intentions. Or legit excuses. You have to get so fed up with your boring room and half painted wall that you want to kick your lazy ass into gear.

Or maybe that's just me.

Either way, I found a little motivation this week. Actually, more like today. And it felt good. I felt accomplished.
Did I get a lot accomplished? Now that's a different story. But it doesn't matter because I tried, really tried, and I feel good about that.

I know that most of the people that read this are friends of mine on Facebook and get frequent updates on my life. But it's usually a picture, or a short, one sentence proclamation.
Some of you see me on a regular basis and don't need an update, but some of you don't. So here it is: an update on my very normal life.

Aubrey. This kid seriously awes and shocks me He's so stubborn and smart it scares me. He's independent and has the strongest will, but he's so dang clingy sometimes that I feel like my hip might fall off from hauling around 27 pounds. 
He now communicates with me very well. He makes it very well known what he wants and when he wants it. He talks, says things like ball, birdy, go potty, the dogs names. He tries to repeat most words and gets kind of shy when we all smile at him and laugh. He's constantly asking questions, ending his little rambling sentences with a higher octave and a shrug of his shoulders. He's learning to listen and learning very quickly what happens when he doesn't. He hugs and kisses, still pretty freely, and says "Hi" to every single person we pass in every single store. Or waves. Or both. People cannot help but stop and talk to him and he talks back like they've known each other his whole life. When we're at play places like the one in the mall, or when he's actually running around free, he will walk up to perfect strangers and hug them or lean on their legs like it's totally normal. It's not really a good thing, what with stranger danger and all, but I can't help but laugh.
He has no fear. He walks straight into the oncoming waves of the ocean like he's done it all his life. He stands on the highest things he can climb and watches me, waiting for me to challenge his bravery. He refuses to hold my hand when he's on a mission, which is always, and he constantly reminds me that he can do it all by himself. "Me, me, me" is what he says. Against everything inside of me holding on to him as my baby, I let him do it on his own. 

Todd. This man is honestly, truly, the most amazing father and husband a girl could ask for. He's sweet and caring and understanding and every other word that can end in ing (only the good ones, of course.) He provides and leads our family, always aware of what we need and what I want. He manages to work a full time job, attend school full time and still have time for us. Whenever he gets home from work, Aubrey sees him and yells "Daddy!" before running to him and begging to be picked up. They wrestle and play until it's time for him to go again, and when that happens, Aubrey breaks into tears, repeating "Daddy, daddy," long after Todd has left. Needless to say, I cam completely blessed to have him in my life. And so in love. 

As for me? Well, I'm happy. Content. Satisfied. Merry. Pleased. Joyful.
Whatever other synonyms you can think of for happy, that's me.
Too good to be true, you say? Of course there are things I wish were different, like how I wish we had our own house, or how I wish I could shop every single day (just kidding...maybe...) But then I stop and think and realize how different our lives would be. We may be living with my parents but how many couples, with children, get to say that they get to go out alone at least once a week? How many get to say that their Mom taught their son how to dance and every time she plays her Zumba music he stops what he's doing, drops everything and dances, to the beat?! Or that every time their son sees his Grandpa, he takes his hand and leads him to the patio door because he knows Grandpa will cave in and take him outside in the blistering heat. Not many, and for that, I am blessed, to infinity and beyond.

And I wouldn't change a darn thing.