“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen! My name is Maggie and I’m 19 years old. I am going to sing for you in German.”
(Then followed a very loud rendition of Awesome God, with breaks to ask me what some of the words were.)
(Oh dear. I see that these photos show all of you my outdated floral wallpaper border in the stairway.)
Also on the agenda this morning was making a bed with 10 washcloths for Mr. and Mrs. Crayon and their 29 crayon children, who were later moved under a box to keep out of the thunderstorm and safe from Tash and his mean soldiers.
Also this week was the coining of the word “Coose”, which being interpreted is: being kind to those who are mean to you.
Also this week there were many valentines, more valentines than I can count. They are special mystery valentines, talked about in whispers, but they come out often to be caressed and reglued and reglittered.
And all of these things come from one very small person. I didn’t even get started on the piano music and homework questions and flashcards and crafts and building of gymnasiums with foam bedrolls and blankets from the other five. (Oh. And the arguments too.)
Sometimes when I’m wiping toothpaste out of the bathroom sink or sorting 6600 pairs of socks or trying to ration the cookies or picking up bits of craft foam, I think about the could-have-beens of my life.
My initial dreams usually included a degree in education and being a teacher in some inner city school and making a huge difference in the life of some kid with no hope.
I’ve also conjured up some pretty wonderful visions of writing novels by the seaside.
And lately I’ve been so intrigued with stories of people with mental health problems and just know that I could have been a moderately great psychiatrist. (Because I teeter on the brink of something mental-ish a lot myself.)
Or maybe I would have been an Olympic gold medalist. I haven’t decided on which sport yet.
Feeding hungry people has always been at the top of my list. I mean actually DOING it, not just providing the money so it can happen. Can you imagine handing a bowl of steaming rice to someone who hasn’t eaten for days?
While I know that being a stay at home mom is a really noble calling and that contentment is pretty much key to joy in wherever you find yourself, I also think it’s healthy and stretching to dream. At least I hope it is. 🙂
Where does your mind go in your other life?
Liesl insisted on trying to wash the lunch dishes, after which we will read something fun (I hope) and take a little nap on this white, snowy day in Alberta.
If I had studied psychiatry, I’d likely be missing some pretty good stuff about the house and home.