So, a few friends of mine, and particularly my sister-in-law Amy (check out her fantastic blog Unlimited Tater Tots), have tried to convince me to start a blog. Last year I did, but I forgot my password, so it has all of one entry floating around out there in cyberspace. Alas, here I am again making a new attempt.
Here's the funny thing about blogs--they're great to read, but writing it is so weird. I mean, who is actually reading this? No one (see followers to the right--yes, you--whoever "you" are-- could be the lucky first). So, essentially, I feel like I'm pretty much talking to myself. I'm okay with this since, as a mother of four kids, talking to myself is a pretty regular occurance. "Come for breakfast," or "Time for church," or "Let's unload the dishes," are repeated phrases I say to myself quite often. As incredibly wonderful as my children are, anything remotely related to cleaning, schoolwork, or personal hygiene completely falls on deaf ears. Unless my words somehow involve swimming pools, dessert, or cousins, I am usually talking to the air around me.
I do find, however, that I am pretty good company, and can even hold a fairly interesting, intelligent conversation now and again, even if I am the only one that hears it. I can't help but wonder when I am thinking about this how the Lord feels with me most of the time. My kids aren't the only ones who have to be told more than seven times to do something, or be given several chances and a few extra nudges to get things done. I'm sure instructions to me are often blocked by my frenzy to get kids to school on time, or tidy up before the home teachers come, or get in that last episode of Psych before I fall asleep on the couch, because we all know what happens once you sit down during the day--it takes a bulldozer or something with at least 17 ounces of dark chocolate to get you back up (and by "you" I mean "me").
So, I have decided this year to be a better listener. I'm sure I will continue to need a few reminders, and more than once I fully expect to have my little daughter stand in front of me, take my face in her hands, and with the look of a general about to invade the Hunns say "Mommy, are you listening to me?" (Wow, she's even insisting right now, "Listen to me" and expressing her concern for those people still on the "naughty list" and how she is hungry--more later on that fascinating train of thought she has).
I also have decided to be a better writer, or at least write more often. Whether anyone is reading or not. I am pretty comfortable talking to myself. Having said all this, my pre-school daughter is hosting her morning talk show "Are You Listening to Me?" and I am being asked "How do you climb a ladder in high heels?" and "What if your wedding dress is too long?" accompanied by the the request "Please Talk to Me. Don't you listen to me?" even as we speak (and again, by "we" I mean "I").
So, I guess it is time to stop writing and go do some listening.
