From winter to mother's day...

I don't have much to say lately. I'm sort of coming out of my winter fog finally and actually talking to real people. I have to confess that I've spent much of this past winter battling the winter blues, possibly true depression. I don't know. I've been up and down all my life, so it's not unusual to me to have a six month low period. It's just been a while. I've been shutting myself off from almost everyone. Now I have a lot of communicating to do to get back to normal.

I'm starting to think about getting a job. Maybe a career (the difference being something that pays the bills and something that fills my soul). I just don't really know what it is that I want to do, exactly. I like so many things. I'm pretty good at a lot of things. I'm really good at none of those. Maybe I spread myself too thin to become truly good at any one thing.

Since we were married Tom has told me that I bore easily. He worried that I would get bored of him. I assured him that was not at all true. I could never get bored of him and I don't bore easily at all. Turns out he was half right (and I hate to even think this, but he usually is when it comes to things like that about me). I do bore easily. I hate doing the exact same thing all the time. I have to because my kids really do thrive on routine, but it's just not for me.

Now as for getting bored of him, well, he's a human being and as such changes, sometimes minute to minute. Not so boring. We've been together for ten years. Ten. Years. We've been married for almost nine. Sometimes the passage of time floors me, since it feels like yesterday that we were two newlywed kids against the world two states and six hours away from anyone or anything we'd ever known. It doesn't seem possible that we could be parents of a six year old (and four and two year olds, but the six thing is really hard to grasp).

That always makes me think - do my parents still wonder at how old I (their oldest child) is? On my birthday last year, while I was wondering how the heck I got to be thirty already, were they thinking I can't believe I have a thirty year old child? And did my grandparents think the same thing when their youngest child turned 40 this year? Or their oldest turned 53? When I think of them this way I'm stunned that it took me this long to figure out what now seems so obvious. I understand so much more about my parents and grandparents. I don't know if you can possibly understand how much your parents love you until you have children. I know I didn't.