Every now and again doomsville seems to reside in my head and I just want to *poof* start everything all over again.
“I just don’t feel like I’m doing enough,” I say to dear husband.
“Oh, you mean the goats, herbs, homeschooling, garden…..” he replies.
“No, I mean I want to be good at something. What am I good at?”
“Oh, you mean the goats, herbs….”
I jab him in the side.
I’ve been letting my hair grow out. Gray. Like our spring northwest weather. I’m attracted to gray hair; I love the shades and find it beautiful. I even stop women in grocery stores and tell them so (well…that did happen once anyway). Today my son told me I looked better dyed. He’s probably right. But I don’t want to feel like a fake. It’s not me, I think. But am I really the 41 year old with gray hair?
I’m pondering these sorts of things while sitting with 4 year old little fingers working with needles and thread. I want to live a real life, a productive one, one that glorifies God. And instead of just relaxing and enjoying the time, doomsville speaks, “shouldn’t they be doing their phonics instead? Why does a 4 year old need to sew?” Ahhh, typical early-spring-homeschooling-mama-guilt, a syndrome many of us know quite well, an old nemeses. I smile and tie off another knot.
It’s hard to know. I’m sure I’m doing all right, but I just want to be better, do better, in all things, or at least some things. Is that just mommyhood? Or crazyhood?
Those little fingers in my household though, they sure inspire me. Hard to be droopy around them!
