A to Z

  
It isn’t because I am extraordinarily interesting, with stories to share that are amazingly captivating. It isn’t because I’m an ego maniac. At least, I wouldn’t peg myself as one. 

It is because I don’t want to forget. I fear the years will dull what memories are now sharp. When I am older, and when my husband and kids are older, I want to be able to read about our memories; our fun, our touching moments. Silly things. Our challenges–all of it. 

If there is anything I’ve learned, as I age, putting it in writing brings it all back. When I look back at my journals from trips, from high school, college, my experiences: I remember, clearly. Without documenting it, I wouldn’t have that same clarity. 

This blog is my clarity. My real-life as I’ve grown-up and moved on, into Motherhood. It’s my shared space that I look forward to sharing with my children, and that I share with you; all of you fellow Mommies and Daddies, who sacrifice your all, love with all you’ve got, work hard, cry, laugh more and sleep less. We are in it, together, and it’s these stories that help keep us moving. 

Sure, we have Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and a slew of other social media-driven ways to always track our lives. Not to mention, they are entertaining. But, the guts of what we do. The stuff that humbles us, the meaningful meat and potatoes of being a Mommy, or Daddy, of having a family, it’s not captured by social media. 

Life is not always a posed picture, a smiley face emoticon, how many likes, hashtags or number of retweets in our feeds.  

Life is lived outside of our newsfeed. I want that place kept in tact. A place to go back to, to remember life. A place of substance. For me, that place is here.

  
On our recent family vacation, I was sunbathing while my kids napped; a Mommy’s heaven. As I lay there, soaking-up my sun and surroundings, I listened to my nieces. 

Most of their conversation topics were what I would expect of young girls; dolls, school, friends, hair. But what struck me, was how many times they said, “I wish I had…”. 

I wish I had a pony, a puppy. I wish I had a sister and not a brother. I wish my hair was curly like yours. Their chatting was speckled with,”I wish I had”. 

Why do we wish we had something else or something more than what we have? Is it the fault of our making a wish every birthday as we blow out our candles? Maybe that’s the culprit. 

I wish I had the answer. I wish I had all sorts of stuff, too. But, my time spent wishing is usually detracting from time I should be enjoying. It’s the ruminating; the wishing that’s the thief. 

Now, I can’t put a complete strike through it. Sometimes, “I wish I had…” is a good self-motivator, when used effectively. It drives us to want more for ourselves, for each other. 

But, when we wish for unrealistic things, dwell on things we wish we’d done differently, or wish we had things that aren’t attainable, it will only squish our joy. It’ll take what we have. 

So, my final wish, with the exception of blowing out my birthday candles wishes, is that I wish I had all the time back that I spent wishing I had things. 

Go after what you wish you had; within reason. Otherwise, you will be stuck in the muck of “I wish I had”. Maybe you can’t have that unicorn you wish you had. But, chances are, a lot of what you wish you had, you can have.