I always wanted to be a writer

In a moment of weakness this morning, I sat down to write about how I had taken some time to evaluate my life and where it is now. The original post included my frustrations of unfulfilled dreams, missed chances and opportunities, misguided choices, and a little bit of self loathing. As I was writing that blog, I was interrupted numerous times by the baby crying, toddlers demanding juice, the awful smell of a diaper in desperate need of changing, my four year old daughter pummeling her two year old brother, and the dog puking on the floor after I ignored his whines to be let out. After tending to all those situations, I returned to my half finished writing, and re-read it to get back on my train of thought.

As I read, I began to cry. I always wanted to be a writer. (If you ask my mom, I always wanted to be a bus driver, but that dream has actually been fulfilled). Creative writing, journalistic reports, picture captions, technical manuals, it didn't matter, I wanted to write it. Somewhere along the way, I strayed slightly and became a teacher. My first post seemed to dwell on that point in my life as if it was a disappointing detour. Although I teaching was not as fun as I thought it would be, it did teach me a lot about myself. (most importantly, that I didn't want to be a teacher).

The post went on to comment on how my daily routine is depressing, stressful, and at times beneath me. When I reread that, I was utterly disappointed in myself. Although I have been known to mutter out loud "I graduated from college to do this?" I love my children, nasty diapers and all, more than I could ever show them. All of the negative aspects of my current profession are just in my head. Never should I feel like any of it is beneath me. If anything, for the most part I am probably not worthy. I have the challenge of making sure my children turn into productive, sane, contributing members of society. I have been doubly charged with aiding other parents in completing the same mission. What a dauntingly awesome task. What "profession" could offer me that kind of responsibility and ownership?

I also spent a fair amount of the original post whining about the tight financial situation that is my life at the moment. Many of my friends have high paying professions, jet setter lifestyles, and a freedom that I haven't known in more than 7 years. But, they don't have what I have. The honor of being able to stay at home with my children is the most fantastic gift my husband could offer me. It means a lot of coupon cutting and making due, but the payment is truly priceless. Instead of focusing on how "unfun" it is to make hard choices in the budget, I need to look around and my nice house, my clothed children, the food on the table, and the smiles on their faces when Mommy can come to the classroom Valentine's day party.

And those dashed dreams to be a writer? The most writing I do is letting the teacher know Mason won't be riding the bus today, or spelling Charlotte's name for the millionth time so she can copy it on her paper. Although it isn't earth shattering reporting, or novel worthy content, it is incredibly important. I am not saying I would turn down a freelance/work from home writing opportunity if it were offered to me (wink, wink), but I won't be racing out to corporate America any time soon.

My life may seem boring, or unimportant to many. I know it did to me before I wrote it down like that, but I wouldn't trade it for all the tea in China. I will have plenty of time to work on those other dreams. I know that time will come sooner than I can imagine.

Now if you'll excuse me, I must let the dog back in, refill sippy cups, start making lunch, answer the phone, change the baby, plan dinner, make a grocery list, vacuum the cookies off the living room floor, pay the bills, balance the check book, put the laundry away, change the sheets on the bed, read a story, prepare a game for Friday's class party, return an email to Mason's teacher, feed the dog, take the garbage out, check the mail.......