If somethings were always meant to be secret we wouldn't have the desire to tell others.
If we never felt lonely we wouldn't know what it meant to be alone. I don't want things to change within the dynamics of the house but sometimes I need a place to think. A place to think. A place to think aloud or in my head. A place to put to rest the demons and the angels. The time spins by so quickly and I wonder if I'm getting all I should.
Do my children really love me? How will they seem me when they are my age? As I see my mom? What will they remember? I feel sometimes as though I am selfish with my time, or lazy with it. Like I've lost Sky to her father and given the choice she would pick there. But the mind of an 8 year old is finicky, I know. It's just the first in a line of mothering doubts given that she still has her teen years. I just don't want to hear someday.... "I want to go live with Daddy." My heart would break. But how do I show her that the time I spend with her is valuable even if we don't all that daddy can do.
I could pour out onto the pages here a list of worries and woes.
I could drip out of the pen the secrets and dreams I have.
But who would listen. There may be billions of people but few that have answers I want or answers at all.
And now there's baby three on the way. I can only hope that I'm doing right by all of them.
