I have not had the indulgence to utter you (to describe my state of being) in, oh, at least ten years. Or since the birth of my firstborn, to be exact. Gone are the days where once obligations have been attended to, there were actual chunks of time that could be filled with pondering about what to do, or just doing nothing.
In the first few years after becoming a parent, my life became All About Baby. It was See-Baby, Hear-Baby, Smell-Baby, Touch-Baby, Taste-Baby
I skipped putting on makeup as a part of my daily grooming routine during the entire first year of Dear Daughter's life. It was for good reasons: 1) so I could plant face-smooches over her body all day long, 2) because who had time to stare at oneself in the mirror when she had to clean up her daily quota of Baby's projectile vomit? and 3) I simply did not care how I looked, because looking at DD was my gift after having wanted to be a mom for so long.
As it goes with subsequent children--where anything halfway is good enough--it took me less than six months to get back to wearing makeup again after having Dear Son. One is more apt to "looking decent" after having lost four years of youth and about twelve hundred hours of sleep.
Well, the kiddos got older, things got easier, and I started to gain little bits of time back for myself. A few minutes here and there turned into a few hours. Small projects became bigger ones. I finally started to feel like I can have hobbies again.
And because of this reconnection with knitting, my new favorite thing to do--writing (and its blogging partner, cameraphone photography)--has had to share its "favorite" status. You may have read about my zero sum theory of life. However, with time, zero sum is not a theory, but an actual truth. There are only so many hours in a day, so take away some and you're left with fewer. There is no way around it. And in order to right my own wrong and ensure that I get meself a hat, too, this blog has been quite impatient with me as of late.
Fear not. Matching hat with DS, done. Wrote a post this week, check.
|11/22/63 by Stephen King|
The other day, I came across a recipe inside a William Sonoma catalog that caught my eyes like truffles to pigs' noses. I knew in that moment that I was going to make this Triple-Citrus Ginger Quick Bread as soon as I got my hands on the ingredients. The combination of citrus, ginger, and sugar in cake form sounded just heavenly. And I bet, if you got to this screen close enough, you, too, can experience the smell of these citrus peels and this candied ginger:
|Freshly grated orange, lemon, and lime peels|
|Finely diced candied ginger|
Because this is what you would have done, too, when it was all said and done:
|Could. Not. Wait.|
Well, today, DS was sick and stayed home from school. And because we stayed in all day, I accomplished an incredible feat: I finished knitting my hat, read about 3% of 11/22/63, baked my Triple-Citrus Ginger Quick Bread, and wrote this post. All, today.
It was a good day.
And, no, I don't usually have the luxury to do all these things. Normally, we're talking a few minutes of knitting a few rounds between dinner and violin practice; a few minutes of reading on nights my eyelids are not struggling to stay apart; baking sweets between clearing old, dirty dishes in the sink and preparing for dinner; and tapping away on my keyboard into the wee hours of the night because sleep is overrated. (Um, not really.)
So, Dear 'Bored', it's easy to blame the kiddos for my lack of time to do what I want. But, looking back two decades ago, those chunks of empty time were reflections of my inexperience. I was still dropping too many stitches left and right to attempt knitting a garment; my kitchen was too small and too barren to bake up a storm; my bookshelves were still filled with textbooks to read for school; and I was busy writing for my professors in exchange for a letter grade. And in the past decade, I gained all sorts of knowledge, experience, and wisdom and learned how to be good at things I liked to do. It took ten years--and two kids--to be where I am today, enriched with enough loves in life that I don't have time for them all. And I am grateful. Grateful to have the snippets of time I do now to accomplish anything for myself. Because they mean so much more to me now than when I had all the time in the world for them.
And now, every time I hear the kiddos mention you as they complain, "I'm bored," I think to myself, how little they know now, and how much they will learn and accumulate in the next decades to truly enjoy what they find fulfilling to them!
And I would probably be perfectly happy if I never mutter you ever again.