M.I.A.

I haven't been posting that much here lately.

If I said things had been hectic at work and just calmed down in the past few weeks, so I now, finally, have the time to post, I'd be telling the truth.
If I said I had been busy with a nice visit from my Father-in-Law, followed by us packing up and heading out on the road ourselves, that would be true too.
If I said I needed to prioritize family time, paying bills, and laundry before surfing the web and blogging, again, that would be the truth.

But if I'm being HONEST, I mean completely honest, none of those are the real reasons I haven't been posting. The real reason you haven't seen me around these parts is because I've been spending time with some friends I have made.

For a little while now, not exactly sure how long, I've been receiving invitations to a very private, very exclusive party. When I first started receiving invitations to these uber-exclusive gatherings, I would think about going, but would always decline. "Nah," I would say, "I have too much going on to really make time for this", and I wouldn't really give it much thought. But one day my curiosity got the best of me and I decided to attend.

On my first visit I met a woman that had given birth to a very premature baby -- it was also her first child. We had so much to talk about. We talked about the lingering twinge of guilt for not being able to carry our kids to term, the different types of therapy our kids had been through, the current delays they were experiencing. We talked about our concerns for their future development, and thoughts about family planning. That's when she told me that she had always sworn she would never have an only child, but now that she has lived the reality of having a premature baby, she was rethinking that theory. "Is it fair to even think about having another child if there is even the slightest possibility this could happen again?" she asked. I could only sigh and shrug my shoulders. I didn't have an answer for her and it broke my heart.

At the next get-together I was all set to talk Mrs. Preemie Mommy, only she wasn't there. Instead, I struck up a conversation with a working (outside the home) mother. We commiserated about trying to manage all of our responsibilities. We tried to figure out how to balance spending 9-10 hours away from home Monday through Friday with having quality time with our families, doing laundry, paying bills, cleaning the house, cooking, maintaining friendships, exercising, and much, much more. At the end of the conversation we walked away feeling even more overwhelmed than when we started.

After looking around and not seeing Mrs. Preemie Mommy or Mrs. Overwhelmed at the next gathering, I didn't know what to do or who to talk to. I didn't have to wait long before Mrs. Questioning Christian showed up. "I believe in God", she said "so much that sometimes it seems like I can feel His presence right beside me. I love moments like that. But then there are other times, times when I don't feel His presence at all. I pray for clear guidance, for direction, and months later I'm still clueless."

Yep Mrs. Questioning Christian, I feel your pain.

And those were just a few of the ladies I met. I also conversed with Mrs. Failed perfectionist, Mrs. I-am-the-only-one-that-feels-like-this, Mrs. Indecisive, Mrs. Fear of failure, Mrs. I-don't-have-any-friends, and I tended to chat quite frequently with Mrs. The-grass-on-their-lawn-is-so-much-greener.

Is it becoming clear yet? Yeah, I imagined it would.

As I'm sure you've surmised, I haven't been around these parts because I have been way too busy attending my very own pity party. I never intended to stay long, but a funny thing happens when you begin to dwell on your shortcomings and problems -- perceived or real-- you tend to elicit a more-the-merrier attitude and will find yourself making room for more negative thoughts to join in on the festivities.

Like attracts like and all that jazz.

So instead of hanging out with those friends, I've been spending some time with Mrs. Gratitude. She's been reminding me of all the things, the countless things, the oh so many things, I am grateful for. She's been keeping me in line when I feel the urge to strike up a conversation with my pessimistic pals, and when I'm tempted to feel like I've failed to live up to an unreasonable expectation I set for myself, she has reminded me that there are people out there (people in my own home even) that think I'm just swell, and it's OK for me to think the same.