Confessions, Obsessions, and the Like

I may never grow up.

I am so jealous of my sister. Yes, she's a high school dropout. Yes, she's barely twenty and already fulfilling the 'barefoot and pregnant' part of southern living. But she does it all with grace and beauty and lightness of heart. She is sweetness and light itself. She thinks charitably, speaks kindly, acts respectfully. This and she's beautiful, and weighs less than me despite being 9 months pregnant and six inches taller than me. Any questions?

Going against what I've said in previous posts, I do (almost constantly) think about having that fourth baby. Not to have that much anticipated girl baby, just because I love having babies. The fabled 'they' always say, stick to what your good at. Well, I'm good at babies, good at children. I've never had much ambition for career/business success. All I ever hoped for was a job that I could stand that would make enough money to support myself and my various obsessions. I love unequivically being a mother. The best present I've ever received (to date) is the mother's day card this year from my four-year-old. He signed it himself! It is my most precious artifact, my first sample of his handwriting. Nothing fulfills me like my family life. To misquote 'Jerry Maguire', "They complete me".

Despite what I've just written, I do not find my children endlessly, eternally diverting. In fact, I tend to ignore all but the biggest catastrophes. I play with them until I'm disinterested, or I remember something else I'm supposed to be doing. I prefer to let the older boys play their own games and work out their own problems. The baby I hand off at every available opportunity. I love breastfeeding, I love cuddling and napping with them. But about fifteen minutes of "Thomas the Train" or five minutes of dangling one of those Lamaze baby toys, and I'm about played out.

I am absolutely incapable of lying when it matters. Oh, I can fib about things that don't matter, to people I don't know. But don't ask me to dissemble to someone I know. Especially not if it's important. I know this sounds like a good thing. But think about it for a moment; there are many occassions for which a little white lying is preferable to brutal truth telling. Ugly craft hand-made for me? Disgusting split-pea soup cooked with love? Even when I try to lie, the truth is written on my face. According to my closest family members and friends, I have one of the most readable faces ever seen. If I don't like something, I can't hide it. If I don't believe you, don't like you, get bored... well, you'll know it.

I am lazy. There are few things I like as well as sitting, or laying down with either my laptop or a good book. Yes, I'm training for a marathon, and I love soccer... but give me a few spare minutes and you'll find me curled up in a cushy chair, doing nothing. I hate the process of keeping my house clean and tidy, though I love having a neat and tidy house. However...

I am a spendthrift. I cannot stomach the idea of spending money on something my husband or I can do ourselves. Hire a maid? Are you kidding? (Which reminds me, I am obsessed with DIY shows). Buying things at full price makes me intensely nervous. That being said...

I'm a sucker for clearance racks and special sales.

I'm obsessed with avocado, spinach, and garlic salt. There is never enough garlic salt.

I hate to get boring. That's enough for one post.