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Saturday, December 15
the pride of impatience
I'm not by nature a patient person (which is ladylike way of saying that I act like a spoiled brat when things don't go my way, right away).
So add bed rest at 32 weeks to an already seemingly endless pregnancy, and you get one cranky Kelly. This one day by itself has been equal to the feel of a good two weeks at the Adkins' normal pace in the space-time continuum. I honestly think people didn't fear death at all back in those slower, simpler times you always hear about. I think they begged for it.
The one thing I've noticed, however, is that waiting gives me new space to think a whole lot of new thoughts. This can be a good thing, like when I'm coming up with brilliant ways to solve the delicate issues of adding a fifth person to my three-person house. Or it can be a bad thing, like when I'm wondering how we'll all survive the rest of the presidential election season with our souls intact.
For three weeks now, I've been spouting my extra thoughts to my husband, Mike, because leftover thoughts, like leftover food scraps, have to go somewhere or they start to stink up the place. But I've neglected to realize that Mike spouts his extra thoughts for a living, and though we have many stimulating conversations, sometimes what he needs most at the end of the day is a wife who will be quiet through reruns of Stargate.
So as I'm sitting in bed tonight waiting until it's time to go to bed, I begin to imagine myself among the millions who arrogantly think their thoughts worth broadcasting to the universe, as if everyone cared what was going on in my Kelly-centric view of life as we know it.
Yes, I'm starting a blog.
So add bed rest at 32 weeks to an already seemingly endless pregnancy, and you get one cranky Kelly. This one day by itself has been equal to the feel of a good two weeks at the Adkins' normal pace in the space-time continuum. I honestly think people didn't fear death at all back in those slower, simpler times you always hear about. I think they begged for it.
The one thing I've noticed, however, is that waiting gives me new space to think a whole lot of new thoughts. This can be a good thing, like when I'm coming up with brilliant ways to solve the delicate issues of adding a fifth person to my three-person house. Or it can be a bad thing, like when I'm wondering how we'll all survive the rest of the presidential election season with our souls intact.
For three weeks now, I've been spouting my extra thoughts to my husband, Mike, because leftover thoughts, like leftover food scraps, have to go somewhere or they start to stink up the place. But I've neglected to realize that Mike spouts his extra thoughts for a living, and though we have many stimulating conversations, sometimes what he needs most at the end of the day is a wife who will be quiet through reruns of Stargate.
So as I'm sitting in bed tonight waiting until it's time to go to bed, I begin to imagine myself among the millions who arrogantly think their thoughts worth broadcasting to the universe, as if everyone cared what was going on in my Kelly-centric view of life as we know it.
Yes, I'm starting a blog.
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