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Morning Song by Darlinggirl
March 2004

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A madness most discreet...
March 4, 2004

Once not long ago, someone asked me once again, what does it really truly feel like to really truly fall in love?

Typical of me, whenever such questions are put to me, I blushed. (When is this going to stop? I'm just about the only person I know that still blushes that's not under fourteen years of age. The teasing I receive about this is also increasing as time passes. Which of course, only makes the me blush even harder.)

Struck dumb by a simple question...and I can talk about anything with almost anybody. I ended up stuttering and stumbling around and really botched any attempt to truly answer that question.

Something I do believe most stongly is that in spite of many not-so-very-nice things in my life, I've never lacked for love. Love of all fact, at times it overwhelms me to look back and recall the absolute wealth and treasure of love I've been surrounded by. Plus, it's really an awfully easy thing for me to people, I mean. I am always puzzled when I listen to people talk about how hard it is for them to love...actually I think for me it's easier to love someone than to allow them to love me back...strange but true.

There are soooo many types of love...a veritable treasure chest full of variations on love. I guess for me, my own particular little trait (and it's gotten me into trouble many times) is that there are so few men I ever felt real love that I mean love with passion and desire.

Actually, I love quite a few men, deeply and throughly but totally without any hint of desire or longing. I love their personalities, their soul, their laughs and bodies and character...and it comes very easy for me to show this. I would never make a very good emotions fly all over my face and I'm not very good at all at hiding what I'm feeling. (That's really gotten me in trouble all my life, too.)

I love many of my family even more than I did when we were all growing up...neither absence or distance changed that one teeny bit.

As for children...well, I'm totally hopeless about that, I've rarely met a child I didn't adore...and as for those most difficult and stubborn creatures...'Tweens and Teens, well, most of them just touch me terribly. I also am well aware that I could have raised a big ol' Victorian-era household of's just awfully hard to have a children's wing built on the house these days! Heehee.

At the exact same time...sometimes I really am beginning to suspect that I really missed my true calling. Now that's a real can of worms...heehee. Do I dare open it?

These past nine or ten months or so have been incredibly enlightening and a bit unsettling, too. Years ago, I used to get into these horrid fights with my parents...oh, very polite with much gritting of teeth and furious proclamations handed down...and now I've had this teeny amount of time for the first time in my life where I've had the space and time to actually focus on just what exactly I may have been put on this earth for. (Besides messing up my parents' life...heehee.)

I never wanted the sort of life demanded of me from my parents, their church, the school I attended, the whole NorthAustin mentality...I figured those that wanted it, well, go ahead, good luck, see you later, no hard feelings, HastaLaVista, y'all!

Wrong. Still wrong.

Anyway, sometimes I scare myself a little bit, 'cause with the restraints and constraints of parenthood lessening with each and every day that passes (And I swear to God I will NEVER become one of those parents that clings to her children and tries to keep them the centre of her life. NO WAY. Same thing for grandchildren, too. Children are many things but the centre of your life they should not be.)it's as if the real person is getting harder and harder to restrain.

It doesn't help that Himself is egging me on...just as he did years ago...oh, He can't wipe out a veritable life time of training and deeply ingrained attitudes in only just nine months...but he's trying.

It's like this: Once the first baby was born, I totally saw the necessity for control ...I had to keep strict control over myself for another little life depended on me...I remember once MamaC. saying to me that marriage used to be for the rearing and upbringing of children and from what she could see, now, very few marriages could stand the pressures of raising the babies to independence. She would take off on these very insightful little lectures and I paid close attention.

I can only speak for myself and my marriage, but almost from the second we brought the baby home, I felt caught between two people that desired two entirely different versions of me. The taller one, well, he wanted something so opposed to what the shorter one did...needed is really more the truth...that the person that was me then spent the next twenty years bouncing back and forth from one version/vision to the other. Exhausting ...for by the time I was twenty-one years old I had begun to suspect the real, true, purest Me was totally opposite than what parenthood demanded!

Now, I used to joke with my husband, if we had even had the support system our parents took for granted when they were raising their children, it would have been some easier.

Wasn't even possible for us, though. Anyway, , I think I have about four or five months left before things really change, again.

What I am struggling a bit with now, is the remants of the conflict between Mom and Me. I mean, I suspect the boys want me to remain good ol' Mom all ways. Totally understandable that is...but I'm not acting like Mom all the time now that's for sure!

I'm getting careless...forgetful. I opened a book the other day in the study and a 5-page handwritten note fell out that I had totally forgotten about. There's this huge empty space in my closet and I'm not sure how to fill it up. I've hidden away money to spend on Himself's birthday and have not given it to any one else. Most unusual! I slipped into the habit of taking a little nap before I take my long, long bath on Friday afternoon...turn off all the phones, too. We stay up all night now just about every single Friday and Saturday night. We don't see or speak much with anyone 'til Monday morning. And lots of other things, too.

Oh, well. Perhaps I worry too much?

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