a journal entry

October 16, 2010

After reading a journal entry and reflecting on it, I felt good.  That is what I am sharing today about happiness--writing in my journal!  Here are a few parts from that entry:

October

I am sitting on the couch, listening to my daughter play with her apple.  It's a golden delicious apple and Matthew, my husband, and Nathan, my son, walked down to the fruit and vegetable stand yesterday evening to buy them.  The kids have been excited about them, but somehow the floor keeps getting more of the juice than my children's mouths.

I am holding John.  John is seven weeks old, tomorrow.  He's a blond head with blue eyes at the moment and he makes my heart melt.  He also spit-up all over me this morning and himself and the couch and then after I changed him and he slept some, he peed through his clothes and onto the crib sheet.  James, his seven-week old brother, also his twin, has had a few stomach aches and wants to be held.  I can tell by the way he arches his back and sucks vigorously on his binkie.  I love them.  They make my life so worth it.

I haven't really had time to comb my hair or get into anything spectacular looking.  I am wearing maternity clothes still because I haven't lost all the baby weight and that's all that fits.  I haven't had time to do shopping yet, or the energy.  I haven't had time to put makeup on and I don't really care because I stay at home all day.  I switch holding the babies frequently at times when they are both fussy, but I only have two hands.  It seems to work for a moment and then I feel tired.  I turn on the TV as I rock one in the reclining chair that has a big rip in the back of it.  The day just keeps coming and the evening is here all too quickly.

There are secrets in my heart today that I don't feel like telling.  I feel like I am alone, that no one can possibly understand the thoughts, feelings, anxieties of my soul.  They can at times feel quite limiting.

The day goes on and on.  Morning passes into afternoon when I get my son Nathan ready for school, kindergarten.  He loves school.  He loves the bus ride.  I take him to catch the bus and I watch the back of him, his Lightning McQueen backpack trailing on his back as he runs to meet up with our neighbor who walks him all the way to the bus.  He turns around and waves goodbye.  I taught him that.  I want to make sure he's with someone before I turn around and go back inside.  I am glad I have my neighbor's help so I don't have to take the twins, Nathan, and Mary out.

Then I go back inside, feed the babies again, trying to figure out how to feed them at the same time as they are out in front of me.  One of their heads falls and I have to stop feeding the other baby so I have a free hand to put their head up more sturdily on the pillow.  The one baby waits impatiently, screaming, as I help the other baby.  The bottle back in the mouth is a welcome relief.

I haven't gotten out of the house much.  I don't really care.  Sometimes I wonder if this should bother me, but it really doesn't most of the time.  Sadly, but truly, I have gotten used to being at home so often and I don't mind too much.  But there are times I want to get out.  

I guess the truth is, I want to get out more.  Someday I imagine myself being more involved with the world.  Someday I picture myself driving to the store with energy and having a kid or two with me.  I can see it happening; I am waiting for the day it will occur.  I know it will.  I believe it will anyway, and will try to accept all that comes my way until that time. 

But for now, I will kiss my babies, relishing in the fact that I have them, been blessed with these beauties and my two other kids.  I will try to keep my house clean and organized.  I will smile.  I still have my hopes in my heart and the secrets it holds, but I will hold onto those wishes until one day those dreams will become realities and I will be released from the hold of all my limitations.  Someday I will fly.  Perhaps I already am, with my eyes closed.