•8:38 PM
I am forty years old and that is an important number. Why is forty so important? It's a great question and I am not sure that I can find the words ... but it is important. Trust me. Ask any woman and she will tell you the same thing.
I have been married fifteen years and I have three children. I have one house, zero pets, two vehicles and too many toys to count. I have a bank account with a balance of not very many numbers and a heart whose capacity to love her family cannot be measured in mere numbers. I do a minimum of eight loads of laundry in a week and one time, I even got them all done in one day. But that was just one day. I prepare three meals a day. I clean up three meals a day. I thoroughly clean my house one time per week ... usually.
My life has been reduced to numbers. It reminds of a book my son has, called The Math Curse.
Please ... do not get me wrong. I love being a Mom. It took me a long time to become a Mom and I would not trade being a Mom for anything in the world. In fact, after I had my first baby, I felt (for the first time in my life) like I had really accomplished something. I feel very fortunate to have spent the first years of my children's lives at home with them and I know that it is a priviledge not afforded to all women. As you will learn, I do not sugar-coat things, so I am not going to try and tell you that it has been all perfect and story-book because it has not. It has been very difficult and very stressful but also very rewarding and it helped to shape me into the person that I am today. I hope that someday my children will think back on this time and be grateful that their Mom was able to spend their early years with them.
At the same time, I think that I lost a little more of myself each time another baby became a part of the Jones family. I became completely wrapped up in my children and forgot about what was important to me. What was important about me. I only cared about what made them happy, what they wanted, what they needed. Which, of course, you must do as a parent. However, I never took the time to balance the them with the me. I envy those girls who can offset time spent with their kids, with time taken for themselves. I have never been able to find that harmony because I became completely anxiety sticken at the thought of leaving them to go out for an evening, especially as infants. And, as you can see, the pattern was defined.
I have been married fifteen years and I have three children. I have one house, zero pets, two vehicles and too many toys to count. I have a bank account with a balance of not very many numbers and a heart whose capacity to love her family cannot be measured in mere numbers. I do a minimum of eight loads of laundry in a week and one time, I even got them all done in one day. But that was just one day. I prepare three meals a day. I clean up three meals a day. I thoroughly clean my house one time per week ... usually.
My life has been reduced to numbers. It reminds of a book my son has, called The Math Curse.
And I have decided that I need a project. Because I am feeling unchallenged and I feel forty - there is that number again. And, I prepare meals and I serve meals and I clean up meals and my brain feels dead. Well, that is not exactly true because recently my brain was exercised, but that is a story for another time and another blog. The point is that my brain enjoyed being exercised again. Doing something enjoyable and challenging and interesting, that did not involve children.
At the same time, I think that I lost a little more of myself each time another baby became a part of the Jones family. I became completely wrapped up in my children and forgot about what was important to me. What was important about me. I only cared about what made them happy, what they wanted, what they needed. Which, of course, you must do as a parent. However, I never took the time to balance the them with the me. I envy those girls who can offset time spent with their kids, with time taken for themselves. I have never been able to find that harmony because I became completely anxiety sticken at the thought of leaving them to go out for an evening, especially as infants. And, as you can see, the pattern was defined.As the number of children increased, the number of things I had to do increased as well. And, I continued to lose myself in the number of things I had to get done. It is easy to do - ask any Mom. Sometimes it becomes too easy and you use them as a shield to hide from other things. Things that you do not want to deal with. Not that I would do that, of course, but some people might.
Anyhow, as I mentioned earlier in the post, I enjoyed exercising my brain and so I have come up with a little challenge for myself. Numbers, of course, are involved.
Anyhow, as I mentioned earlier in the post, I enjoyed exercising my brain and so I have come up with a little challenge for myself. Numbers, of course, are involved.
I am going to try and read one hundred books in one year. Okay, even as I am typing this challenge, I know it is ridiculous. It is unrealistic but I need to make it a challenge. If I say that I am going to read one hundred books ... that is not a challenge. Anyone could say that. The challenge will keep me motivated. I have done the numbers and it means that I would have to read each book in 3.65 days; 1.9 books per week. It might be possible, but I will have to organized, which thankfully is one of my areas of expertise. You do not get to be an anxiety-ridden control-freak without throwing a little hyper-organization into the mix.
The real reason for this insanity is that I have recently discovered a love of writing and I wanted something to write about. I am going to use this blog to record my journey of trying to read one hundred books in one year, and the thoughts that come along with reading all these stories.
So, do you like to read? Why not join me? What do you have to lose, except some precious time with your family and the odd reality television show? Come on ... we'll do it together. One hundred books in one year.
