On Sundays, I write.

I wish my younger adult self had known this is what I need to do- this is what gives me life and lights a fire inside me. This is how I prove to the world that no, I’m not the quiet, compliant girl you think I am.

I hate, hate, hate being called quiet. I’ve had that label for at least 30 years, and I just can’t shake it. Being labeled as quiet has been a synonym for many other labels in my life: dorky, stuck up, and bitchy being the main ones. I’m none of these. Ok, I probably was/am kind of dorky, but at this point in life, I’ve accepted and embraced it. I’m really not stuck up or bitchy- I guarantee I probably really like you and want to be your friend. I genuinely like most people.

I couldn’t write this morning – Ryan left for a coaching clinic and I had all 3 kids. I contemplated taking them to church, but quickly threw out that idea. Church is still such a weird issue for me. I don’t really miss it, and yet, I feel pressure to want to go. This morning, Nolan would have thrown a fit if I’d left him in an unfamiliar childcare class, and I would have had to use my limited emotional energy on small talk, which drains me faster than I usually care to admit. It’s awkward, it’s exhausting, and having to “talk” for a non verbal kid in a wheelchair to strangers dials it up a notch. Church leaders: the greeting time in services is torture for many introverts. We dread it. And no, this doesn’t mean we don’t understand the purpose, or want to get to know other people in the church. We just don’t make connections in that way.

So instead of church, I organized my clothes, and cleaned the bathroom. This was indeed the best choice, because I physically felt my constant, low grade anxiety taper down as I finished vacuuming the bedroom and hauled trash bags full of clothes to donate out of the house. There are times I want to just get rid of most everything because of the grip “stuff” has on my emotional self.

I took the kids to an indoor jump place this afternoon. I had considered the pool but the boys can’t swim (and Charlotte isn’t a strong swimmer yet) and it was over 100 degrees today. I wasn’t willing to risk drowning or one or more of us being fried by the sun, so I opted to fork over $18.99 to sit in the A/C for 3 hours while the kids burned off their energy.

PSA for adult strangers: If you are going to stare at my child in his wheelchair, at least smile at him, or me, and seriously, don’t turn around to keep staring at him after you’ve already passed us. Why do I even need to say this?!

The kids are finally asleep- I’ve been listening to them chattering and giggling in their room for an hour, which is equally adorable and annoying. I wonder what time Nolan will come crawl in bed with me- third children break all the rules, and make you eat all your words of “My child will never…”. He told his daddy the other night that he had to come in because “My bed is too crowded.” Ryan thought he meant all the toys and stuffed animals he’d dragged to bed, but no, his sister was in his bed, sound asleep.

I’m probably headed to sleep too- I heard on a podcast the other day that going to bed early is a mom’s version of sleeping in, and it was a total lightbulb moment for me. I do indulge in “sleeping in”, just on the other side of the night. But, I have big writing goals, and I’ve got to discipline myself to write more at night. But I’m just so tired. I need 9 am- 1 pm every day, and I could finish my book in months.

Yes, I’m (in the beginning stages of) writing a book. I took a class this spring/early summer from the literary agent of some of my favorite authors on getting published, and am now full of ideas, goals, dreams, and words. Lots of words. Some days I feel silly and stupid for even dreaming about getting published, but then I remember literally millions of people have already read my words, and I have been blogging faithfully for almost 8 years now.

And I really, really love to write. So maybe going for it isn’t such a stupid idea.