Dreaming

It's the first Sunday of 1999. I'm sitting in the rocker in my bedroom, hiding from the chaos downstairs. I will eventually type this into the computer but I prefer to write it out in my old spiral notebook that I have carted around for years. Someone asked me how long it took for me to write a column; it takes me about 20 minutes. Once the thought is in my mind, it won't leave me alone until I write it down. Of course, with five children to care for, many a musing is lost forever because it's impossible to hide from life at the drop of a hat.

I started writing as a child. My passion for writing is as instinctual to me as breathing. Expressing myself on paper is easy. Saying the same words, well that's not as easy. Eloquence, for me at least, is limited to paper. Actually, unless I know someone very well, I'm liable to be quiet, not trusting myself to speak lest I stumble verbally and look like a dork.

Where is my point in all this? What I'm trying to say, my friends, is that with yet another year under my belt, I'm feeling a bit nostalgic. When I tiptoed up the stairs, spilling my coffee on my foot as I climbed over the child gate at the bottom of the stairs, I expected to write something funny. When the pen hit the paper, however, I found myself going in a totally different direction.

Life is the same way, you know. One minute it can be going one way, the next it's changed direction so drastically that every aspect has changed. It could be good, like falling in love or winning the lottery or it could be devastating, like losing a loved one or hearing a much dreaded diagnosis.

Instead of enjoying life to it's fullest, I have survived by trying to find things to look forward to. Instead of appreciating life, with all of it's ups and downs, I tend to merely exist. My goals and dreams have been put aside due to both daily living and a lack of self confidence.

Instead of writing a humorous piece about New Year's resolutions, I'm following my mood and sharing a bit of advice. And this year, I'm going to heed it myself. In 1999 I'm not going to waste my time worrying about what I don't have, I'm going to cherish what I already have. With my children, even when I want to send them to military school, I vow to be more understanding and compassionate. I will try to "let go" of them as they selfishly mature and grow up, despite me telling them specifically they are forbidden to do so. I will crawl around on the floor with my two year on my back, chasing my eight month around the house. I will yell less and think more. I promise to get dirtier, to enjoy the feel of play-dough under my nails and creamed corn in my hair. I will laugh when I want to cry as I deal with my teenagers hormonal outbursts over the pimple behind her ear. I will remember my own irrational feelings as a child and how important it was to me to "fit in". I will not be so arrogant that I assume we will all be here tomorrow, and I'll go to the park instead of mopping the kitchen floor.

This isn't only about my parenting skills. I am a Mother, which is the most important job in the world, however, I'm also a person. A woman with my own dreams. I have always wanted to be a professional writer. Instead of writing when I can grab a minute, I am going to make time for it. Even better, instead of making time for life, I'm going to start living it. No more living it in bits and pieces. Life is a dream, it's up to us whether we see it fulfilled.

1999 for me will be the year of spontaneity, laughter and acceptance. I will ride the roller coaster with anticipation instead of watching from the sidelines. The chaos of my life is a blessing in itself, no need to hide from it. I hear my two year old calling me. It's time to go play.

About the Author: Vicki Gladden is the mother of five children living in Mississippi, where the bugs are plentiful and bigger than her 2 year old's head. She has been writing for years and writes a column for the local newspaper, as well as various sites on the web. She writes whatever comes to mind so you never know what you are going to find. She welcomes all comments concerning her site or her work and invites you to see her new passion Simply Southern Candles

Vicki Gladden 2000 © Mississippi Press