I don't like the idea of blogs. I don't like the idea of people reading about my life - people I don't know or don't want to know, I mean. However, I've had a strong urge to write lately. Who knows why. Maybe, like a lot of young mothers I know, it's one outlet they have in their otherwise child-driven world. My world isn't exactly child-driven (yet), but life has calmed down enough for me to reflect on a lot of things. I haven't picked up my journal in months, but typing somehow feels more therapeutic anyway.
There's a little life growing inside of me, kicking and hiccuping each morning (and more after a cup of decaf coffee!) and changing my worldview in so many ways. I don't understand how women can kill of something so miraculous growing inside of them. I get that they might not want it, and might not find it as a blessing, but to see little fingers and feel elbows and a head pushing on your bladder?! It's pretty phenomenal. I have a student in my class who is a few weeks behind me, and I'm convinced she doesn't have a clue about the miracle that is happening to her. I'm scared for her and excited, all at the same time.
This little life has given me new perspective on what's important each day too. I'm ok with working, shopping, and then crashing on the couch with my hubby for 3 hours of TV. Everyday. I have no need to impress anyone anymore. I want to see my family, relax, clean my house, and enjoy life. I love teaching, but I'm really over being a mom to 160 teenagers (that's one life phase I won't look forward to!) And so, I go to work, as a job, not a profession, and do what I can to help a few of them learn something. I wish, often, that I felt like I was making a difference for one of them, and sometimes I do. No, not a difference for one of them, for more than a few. Sort of selfish...I know.
I'm moving on. Putting baby first. Cause I can!
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