Its All in the Numbers

I’m 38 and 1/4 years old, which means there’s only 1 year and 3/4s left until I’m 40. I’m trying not to let it bother me, but it does. I hope I have more time left than I’ve already been given. Much more. I’ve been the same size, 6 ½ shoe, 5’2 and approximately 105 pounds give or take a pound or two since I was 14, in the 8th grade. I’ve lived in 5 different states, at 17 different addresses. I’ve traveled to 47 states and 5 different countries. 3 boys have made me cry, and one has only ever made me smile. I’ve been married for 13 years, but really its 15. I’ve had 6 pregnancies, 4 children, ages 4,6, 8 and 10, 3 girls and 1 boy and 2 angels.

Growing up, I tried out for approximately 4 sports teams, and 1 cheerleading squad, making the team exactly zero times. I was a writer, a reader, a friend, an avid youth group attender, but an athlete I was not. I’ve kept a journal since I was in 4th grade, age 10 or so. There’s an unknown number of volumes, and they are kept in several different boxes scattered about my 1400 square foot, 3 bedroom house situated on 1.9 acres, approximately 30 miles East of Seattle. I’ve often thought of burning them, "the evidence", but I just can’t bring myself to do it. It’s who I was, how I got here, and it’s my story like it or not. I wish I could say it was more about my wishes and dreams, and less about the boys who’ve come and gone, (and one who’s stayed) but that would be a lie. More and more as I find my voice, the more I write, the more I connect, the less its about them, and more about me, about the world, about possibility, change and wonderment. It’s evidence that I was human through and through, in case my children ever need any proof. It’s proof that I was here. I’m here.

I had 20/20 vision last I checked, though I do sport the old lady reading glasses now and again these days, which make me feel chic, hip and old all at the same time. I think my style and power has been improving over the past few years so that’s encouraging at least. Or perhaps I’m just withdrawing from society’s ideals, so really I’m looking weirder and weirder, and no one is telling me anymore. I’m ok with that.

When I’m doing as I “should” I like to do yoga 4 or 5 days a week. I like to write every day and am doing so currently, but I expect to fall off the wagon soon, since its what I always do. But, I’m ok with that too. I’ve learned that another wagon is always just around the corner, and I can hop back on at any time. I like to pray to Jesus, and meditate to calm my mind that can be 100 different places at once until I count my breath to 10 over and over again for at least 10 minutes. I like to sleep about 9 or 10 hours a day, but really I only sleep about 8, which I’m thankful for, (having just come off of being pregnant and/or nursing for the last 10 years or so, with only a few months break here and there) but I’m always slightly tired. I like to take naps, but don’t,(not that often, anyway) but I have a rule that my children must take naps until they are 5 which helps me much more than them.

I yell at my children more often than I’d like to admit, which is not daily but more than weekly and is worse at certain times of the month than others. I think about, and fear death every day, not in a terrible morbid way, but as a passing thought, someday I won’t be here kind of way, and I feel sad because the world is really so very wonderful and I’ll miss it so.

I’m hoping for 5 but will settle for 3 mornings a week off from my 24/7 mothering duties in the fall, in which to write, do yoga and connect to myself and to God. And to put a dent in the several loads of laundry I need to do every week just to stay on top of it.

I want the number of books I’ve read to go from countless to even more countless. I want the number of books I’ve written to go from none to some, the number of countries I’ve visited from 5 to over 100, and the number of friends, both in real life and online to go from few to many. I want the number of minutes spent praying, writing, meditating, serving and loving to far outweigh the number of minutes I spend doing anything else.

I want the hours I spend being content each day to number 24.