The above image was found by Cindy and it makes me laugh every time I see it because it is sort of the unofficial mantra of our group. Each of us in our own way has had to face life while forging ahead with our dreams and sometimes they do seem stupid. Really, really stupid. At times it seems like you’re actually moving backwards. Sometimes it seems as if you have to choose your actual real life (kids, work, marriage, friends) or choose to follow your dreams.
For example, while I was attempting to edit a book THIS happened:
1. Three year old asked if she can go downstairs and watch TV with the older kids. I told her yes. She left. I began to edit.
2. Responded to screaming from the basement because three year old saw a spider (which was actually just a tiny beetle.) Rescued three year old from “spider.” Got told, “MOM! Be careful! It’s going to bite you to death!”
3. Responded to husband who was disturbed by the screaming of the three year old. He had been sleeping after his late-night/early-morning shift. He told me the air conditioner he just installed was broken. Checked air conditioner only to realize that he was talking in his sleep.
4. Responded to screaming 6 month old. Realized that he has pooped clear up to his neck. While cleaning him up I reassured three year old that she hasn’t pooped. (She has a fear of poop.) Reassured her that she wasn’t messy even though she was looking at someone who was. She removed her clothes just to be sure.
5. After I finished cleaning up the six month old, I realized all the diapers were in my locked bedroom with my sleeping husband. Left naked, just-learned-how-to-scoot-around six month old and naked three year old to get diaper. Came back to living room to realize that six month old had scooted off of blanket onto hasn’t-been-vacuumed-since-yesterday-floor.
6. Unwound dog hair from six month old’s nether regions because he was naked on hasn’t-been-vacuumed-since-yesterday-floor. Put diaper back on.
7. Dressed three year old under protests that she had poop up her back. Wiped her back with wipes to appease her.
8. Carried her down stairs because she was certain that the “spider” would “bite her to death.”
9. Came back to dead computer.
10. I gave up for the day.
See, when all of that is going on my dreams seem a million miles away and very, very stupid.
But the fact remains, I was born to do this. I was born to absorb life, energy, and emotion. I am driven to ponder the meaning of life, find reason amidst the chaos, express it in beautiful terms and share it.
Since my life is lived by the seat of my pants, piece by piece, moment by moment, I’ve decided to make my Facebook statuses count. I’ve been attempting creative writing through my posts on Facebook. (See below.) I’ve decided to hone my skill post by post. Right now, that’s how my dreams make sense.
And so, I am going to attain my stupid, stupid dreams one moment at a time. And I suggest you work on your stupid, stupid dreams moment by moment too.
My attempt at living my dreams piece by piece (My recent Facebook statuses):
She climbs to the top of the slide with the strength only a child knows. Standing on the precipice, holding onto the bar, staring down, tiny fear thrills her heart. She’s never done it alone. She takes a deep breath and thrusts her body down the slide.
One more moment of growth, gone in an instant. One more fear evaporated.
Sometimes she feels as if growing up isn’t going to be so difficult.
Before she goes to bed, her three year old soul rushes to the open window.
“I need to fill my lungs with air,” she says and inhales the fresh night. Smiling, she peacefully slips into her bed.
My hair hangs down my shoulders, stringy and damp. I smell of sunscreen, chlorine, and sweat. My eyes burn and my muscles are tired. Children’s laughter still echoes in my mind as I caress my sleeping infant. Summer is tiptoeing out the door. Shorter days are ahead, days of books, lessons and discussions. But for now I’m going to soak up summer with my children. Time passes swiftly and my heart gently aches, knowing that these days will be gone.
We sat, we two, on cool iron cafe chairs as the fragrant night breezes washed away the cares of the day. We soaked in the deepening summer night, laughing at jokes understood by only a handful of people. The barista turned off the lights to remind us that we had responsibilities to attend. We wandered slowly to our cars and drove home to be greeted by the sounds of lazy summer crickets.
Wet scales. Wriggling bodies. Cold water. I had forgotten how beautiful it is to touch a wild animal that lives in a completely different world than I do. Connecting with alien life, alien life right here reachable and touchable. I’d forgotten, and I loved it.