So. I have been thinking. It happens. Sometimes. Anyway, I have been thinking about dreams. Not the nutty kind that you have about trains, and alligators when you eat something weird, or take a sedative, but the real kind. The tangible kind. The kind that you imgaine when you are little, and hope that somehow they are really going to happen. I am a dreamer. I am, I won't deny it. I get hit with the reality stick a lot when life says, "This is just how it goes Sis, sorry." Ouch. Well, clearly the bruises don't last, because the very next moment I am dreaming again, and wondering how I can make my dreams come true.
Today, for example, I am sitting at my moms kitchen table thinking about the future, and what I want out of it. My mom lives in the country. It's beautiful here. I never knew how much I desired the simple life until I got a taste of what it's like. Now I want the full meal. The house surrounded by trees, and tons of land. The imagination that comes from building pirate ships out of cardboard then floating them down the river in the backyard. Gardening. Baking old fashioned pies and finding the perfect crust on accident; then winning the blue ribbon for best pie in the valley. I don't want much, but what I do want isn't the easiest thing to come by.
I want the simple life. The hard working, simple, life.
Life, I believe, should be easy going. Not fast paced all the time, but not slow. Somehere in the middle with bouts of the extreme degrees every now and again. There is just something alluring to me about the "wild west." The need for stability in adventure, and a calmness that can be found only in nature. Dreams. Lots of dreams. I know exactly how I want that little 'house on the prairie' to look like. I can visualize every tiny detail. Then the reality stick. Cole doesn't have a job. Where will you build it? And oh. With what money? Hmm Jess? Did you think about that?
Of course I did. My little house fund is just that, little, but it's a start, isn't it mister stick? Yes, I do believe it is. Little voices, sometimes big voices, try to silence dreams. Reality does it too. Sometimes reality doesn't just silence the dream though, sometimes our fleeting thoughts of wonderful are simply squashed. Destroyed. And for what? Car payments. Insurance. Blah. Many would argue the lack of following our hearts desires ends in one word; responsibility. Dreams are destroyed by responsibility.
Well, I'm no Cinderalla's godmother, and the flickage of a wand isn't going to bring about any miracles. No, no fluff, no magic, but the truth behind making a dream come true is a very simple one. Not easy, but simple.
Dreams come true with dedication, with work, and with utilizing our very own talents and skills. Aka? Being responsible. The same word we use when referring to why our dreams can't come true is the very way to bring them to fruition; even Disney would agree with me there. The greatest things are built from an idea, a desire, and an imagination. Dreams come true if we want them to.
If you can dream it, you can do it. So go. Dream. Do.
"Don't tell me what I can't do."
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Be Best; You
Every day brings with it different frustrations. Personally, I have made a discovery. Nearly every frustration I have felt in the past year and 10 months tends to encompass a single word; Jack. I never imagined that my life could be so focused on a single thing. Every day is dedicated to him. From the moment I wake up, to the moment he goes to bed, I am usually with him. My life revolves around that one little word. That one little person. Jack.
I never knew the conditions of motherhood. I thought I did. Watching my mom, and other moms, one would think that an educated perspective in raising a child, and in turn being a mother, could be obtained through observation alone.
Clearly not so.
This last weekend Cole and I ran RAGNAR. It was fun, but I will never do it again. A? Anyone that pays money to run a race through the night, thus giving up sleep willingly, should be classified clinically insane. B? I got really tired of power bars and gatorade. And C? I missed Jack, and I missed him a lot. It's funny how when you get too much of something, you want little else but to do something else. Likewise, when you get too little of something, all you want is to do what you are getting little of. Aka? I was getting too little of my little man, and I wanted lots of him. I am his mother, so I am partial to liking him, even if he is approaching the terrible two's and my patience with his tantrums runs rather thin, rather quickly.
Ragardless of his little faults, which in truth are just a part of growing up, I can't help but melt. Last night was an example of my mushiness. I went into his room to put him back in his bed (since he got his toddler bed, he tends to fall asleep next to the door as compared to his bed most of the time.) Anyway, as I went to lay him back in his bed, I instead decided to sit on the little couch in his room and just hold him. To be still, and in that stillness, hold him. I sat in his room with him cuddled up in his blanket in my arms, and watched him sleep. I can't tell you how many thoughts and emotions ran through my heart and mind within the span of five minutes, but I can tell you I was reminded why I wanted to be a mother so much. Little else matters, I can tell you that.
Every day brings with it thoughts of inadequacy. We wonder if what we are doing is right, if how we are doing it is right, and if where we are going, and who we are being, is right. We are constantly putting ourselves in check within our own lives. It is said that we are our own worst critic, and for better or worse, that's all too true. We all have a calling in life. Something we know we will be really, really fantastic at with the help of a higher power. I forget mine a lot; too much in fact. But last night? Last night I was reminded of a very sincere, very humbling, and very wonderful truth.
My calling? I am a mother, and I am a dang good one.
One day I know I will wonder where all the time went, and how I let it slip by so quickly. One day I will watch Jack as a grown man, and wish I could hold him in his room while he slept just one more time. Well. That's one day.
For today? For today I get to handle tantrums, messes, and a little boy who is discovering the world around him. For today, I am a mother. Tomorrow, I am a mother. I am, and will always be, mom.
And I love it.
I never knew the conditions of motherhood. I thought I did. Watching my mom, and other moms, one would think that an educated perspective in raising a child, and in turn being a mother, could be obtained through observation alone.
Clearly not so.
This last weekend Cole and I ran RAGNAR. It was fun, but I will never do it again. A? Anyone that pays money to run a race through the night, thus giving up sleep willingly, should be classified clinically insane. B? I got really tired of power bars and gatorade. And C? I missed Jack, and I missed him a lot. It's funny how when you get too much of something, you want little else but to do something else. Likewise, when you get too little of something, all you want is to do what you are getting little of. Aka? I was getting too little of my little man, and I wanted lots of him. I am his mother, so I am partial to liking him, even if he is approaching the terrible two's and my patience with his tantrums runs rather thin, rather quickly.
Ragardless of his little faults, which in truth are just a part of growing up, I can't help but melt. Last night was an example of my mushiness. I went into his room to put him back in his bed (since he got his toddler bed, he tends to fall asleep next to the door as compared to his bed most of the time.) Anyway, as I went to lay him back in his bed, I instead decided to sit on the little couch in his room and just hold him. To be still, and in that stillness, hold him. I sat in his room with him cuddled up in his blanket in my arms, and watched him sleep. I can't tell you how many thoughts and emotions ran through my heart and mind within the span of five minutes, but I can tell you I was reminded why I wanted to be a mother so much. Little else matters, I can tell you that.
Every day brings with it thoughts of inadequacy. We wonder if what we are doing is right, if how we are doing it is right, and if where we are going, and who we are being, is right. We are constantly putting ourselves in check within our own lives. It is said that we are our own worst critic, and for better or worse, that's all too true. We all have a calling in life. Something we know we will be really, really fantastic at with the help of a higher power. I forget mine a lot; too much in fact. But last night? Last night I was reminded of a very sincere, very humbling, and very wonderful truth.
My calling? I am a mother, and I am a dang good one.
One day I know I will wonder where all the time went, and how I let it slip by so quickly. One day I will watch Jack as a grown man, and wish I could hold him in his room while he slept just one more time. Well. That's one day.
For today? For today I get to handle tantrums, messes, and a little boy who is discovering the world around him. For today, I am a mother. Tomorrow, I am a mother. I am, and will always be, mom.
And I love it.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)