Dreams Are Nothing More Than Wishes And A Wish Is Just A Dream

When I was a little girl I wanted to be a marine biologist / newspaper reporter / detective. Maybe, I thought, I would uncover conspiracies at Sea World and blow the lid off such stories as why an ice cream shaped like a whale costs six stinking dollars when I can get a whole tub for a third of the price anywhere else. Anyway, as I grew older pieces of that dream fell away so that by the time I was in high school I was left wanting to be a reporter. So, of course, when I got to college I majored in....philosophy and religious studies. Whuh? I let other people hijack my dreams and I became convinced that I should go to law school. Totally not their fault, I own this one. Thankfully I only racked up undergrad student loans and realized, before I sank further in debt, that I had no interest in going to law school. But once you make one decision NOT to do something, it begs the next question: what WILL I do? My answer came in the form of a 6 pound 9 ounce delicious, sweet little thing we like to call, Emma. Two years later, hungry for more deliciousness, we gave her a sister, Jilly. I became wrapped up in a dream I never expected to have, but one from which I never wanted to wake up: motherhood.

But, as with all dreams, I am slowly coming out of my slumber. Please don't misunderstand me, the magic of motherhood has not worn off. I am still absolutely, madly in love with these two little people with whom I get to spend nearly all of my time. The thing is, they're not so little anymore. My sweet little 6 pounder turned 12 last week and by December we will be an official double digit household as Jilly will be 10. There is still plenty of mothering left to do - a lifetime's worth. But I had to be completely hands on when they were teeny tinies, and now I am releasing my grasp and enjoying the beauty of watching them become independent individuals with ideas and dreams all of their own. *tear, sigh, tear, sigh*

My big girls riding bikes on Emma's birthday.

What a beauty - inside and out.

This new stage of motherhood has also provided the blessing and the curse of having more time for myself. I am somewhat embarrassed to admit that very often I have NO idea what to do with my free time as I have NO idea of what is, in essence, my next stage of dreaming. I will be 35 next month (seriously?) While I have indeed spent the last few months lamenting that fact and feeling dreadfully sad that my babies are getting older, all of sudden I am excited and exhilarated by the fact that I, just like my girls, have gained some new independence to have and create brand new ideas all of my own.

So, now that I realized what I am NOT anymore, namely the mother of very small children, it begs the question: What next? What do I want to be when I grow up? I have been trying on some different hats and roles and I think I have made one very large mistake. All the credit goes to Erik on this one. He has said to me in the past, and again more recently, "Don't make your role your identity, bring your identity to the role." I am a home schooling minister's wife. Let's all be honest here for a minute. That notion brings up a certain mental image and idea of what that woman should be, right? A little Caroline Ingalls, a little Laura Petry, maybe a dash of Beth Moore and a side of Martha Stewart? I have been gardening, baking bread, sewing, and, yes, even trying to learn to knit. I have had less than stellar results with all of the above. (Except the bread, my bread is pretty yummy if I do say so myself.) These are all noble, admirable hobbies. But, are any of them really, well, me? Maybe, maybe not. I have tried to be and do all these things recently, convincing myself that's what I should be, what I should do. I realize, as I write this, I have once again let someone hijack my dreams: me. Maybe my results have been disappointing because my enthusiasm, my interest has been elsewhere. I realize my hobbies should extend beyond listening to people with British accents and watching Doc Martin reruns (is that really the same hobby???), but I think I need to think a bit outside the box when it comes to interests and meaningful pursuits.

Two things I know I am passionate about: my (not so little) babies.

If you're waiting for the big ah-ha moment wherein I tell you I have discovered my passion and my dreams, you are in for a let down. At least in this blog entry. I'm still not sure what my dreams are, but I do know I have a renewed passion for finding out. I like this writing gig. Who knows? Maybe I'll slip on the old Sherlock hat and head out to Sea World to see if I can finally uncover why none of the shows EVER start on time and why the metal bleachers aren't in the shade...

PS Sorry for the long title, but a discussion of dreams deserves a shout out to Harry.