Oh boy, I’m in trouble.

For the last 12 plus years I’ve been battling anemia–so I’ve developed this pattern where I go through mountains and valleys of energy and motivation. Right now I’m in a valley. I have hardly any energy and a whole lot of responsibility. Oy. I woke up this morning wondering when I would be able to sneak away for a nap. I ordered some Floradix liquid iron and am praying it gets here soon so I can get on top of that mountain of productivity again (and coincidentally the  mountain of laundry that will inevitably be growing). I’m also really anxious to get my blood work done in a few weeks to see if the Floradix does indeed raise my red blood cell count/hemoglobin/hematocrit levels.

So my lists of to-do’s have been really simple lately. Today I want to do schoolwork with the girls, eat some food, do a violin lesson, and plant a few seeds for our backyard garden–and of course a little nap.

photo from here

So I’ve been watching the Olympics a lot since they started on Saturday. It doesn’t matter the sport, I’ll watch it. I just love the competition. Right now I’m watching the men’s figure skating competition (I would defend this particular event but the current skater is wearing a faux bustier with pink sparkly laces and tassels). In the past 4 days of this constant stream of Olympic commentators in my ear something strange is happening. It’s been happening since I was a little girl–since probably the first time I’ve taken in the Olympic games–and it greatly benefits my housework, crafting, showering; basically anything that can be timed and or has artistic element is fair game. I have my own personal Olympic commentator, commentating all the “events” of my day. Doing dishes–”Look at her go–I don’t think I’ve ever seen her perform with such precision and speed”. Folding towels “Incredible–she’s on the edge of out of control, but she needs to be if she wants to finish with a good time”. Vacuuming (the housework equivalent to figure skating)–”the artistry is so moving – look at the way she turns those corners with such ease and grace. I see great things in her future”.  I am in so much trouble since there is still a week and a half of Olympics left. In a few days my commentator is going to be rooting me on doing such simple things as going up the stairs and clearing the dishes off of the dinner table. Yeah, so I’m a dork and if you didn’t know it before you know it now.

Photo from Splityarn

I have a magnetic hand. No, I haven’t had any crazy surgery done to my hand – but my hand has this uncontrollable attraction to . . . pregnant bellies. Normally I am as conscientious as can be – just ask any of my 48 teachers from kindergarten through high school. Conscientious was the number one adjective used to describe me on all my report cards. The magnetism in my hand is so strong, though, that when I see a pregnant belly it is impossible to resist even 12 years of being told by numerous people that “this is who you are”. Who I normally am flies out the window when there is a pregnant belly within touching distance. Yes, I know – there is something wrong with me. I embrace it though. I know that the owners of the countless bellies I have touched don’t always have the same reaction. Some love the attention – mostly first time Mommy’s who I actually know personally. Some, who I meet in grocery stores and libraries, despise it and probably wish I would go away – far, far away. I JUST . . . I just . . . can’t  . . . resist. Just the thought of a new life, being knit together by a majestic and creative God; a new individual person made in the image of almighty God, makes me throw out all social norms. I promise, I’m not really weird – in a Michael Scott sort of way – I just think human life is the pinnacle of God’s creation and to be so near to that creation while He is creating it, is cause enough to throw caution and dignity to the wind.

Photo by Torsten Mangner | Creative Commons License