It has been awhile since I’ve written. I think it has been awhile because all I had to write about was the sort of same old, same old, day to day grind of new motherhood, exhaustion, and trying to keep the house clean.
I have always wanted to be special. (I know, I know, everyone is special but just hang on.) I wanted people to think that I was smart, funny, interesting. A good conversationalist. I still do. And the fact that right now, my life is more about the less-glamorous-and-more-mundane character building that comes from constantly having dishes piled up because I am constantly more lazy than I should be, as well as more tired than I’d like, well…that fact makes me a little nervous about writing. I always have a few friends in mind when I write (is that weird?) and it’s a temptation for me to feel that writing about mama stuff is less important or interesting and therefore not valid or worthwhile. I mean, I am the girl who dislikes (many of the) songs I’ve written because they are not genius. Really?
The thing is, I am really grateful for this time in my life. I am not very funny right now, at least not most of the time, because I’m too tired to think of the right thing to say at the right time. I’m not (seemingly) very smart right now, because…you got it! I’m too tired for my brain to work the way it used to (and hopefully hopefully will again someday). But I am gaining a lot of growth which, by its very nature, could not have happened any other way.
I have been thinking over the last several years that while being funny and witty is great, it can often be at the expense of others. Over the last several months I have been painfully learning that loving people well and self-sacrificially is something that even the least witty of us can do, and ultimately? I hope that I become the kind of person who would rather have it said of her that she was gracious and loving, rather than hilarious. Or, okay…maybe all three. 🙂