Gah!

I am seriously compulsive about posting every day since I decided that I would. For several weeks there, I was great about it and would sometimes write a week's worth of posts in one sitting. But somehow lately I keep running out of time, even though, when I sit and think about it, most days, I can't really think of what I accomplished that took so much time. At least when I was working, going to school, or working and going to school, I could add up the hours and report to myself what I had done.

Which reminds me: You have time for what you make time for. Kacy is on to me.

But it really reminds me of something I have been thinking about lately. When the kids and I are out and about I often get the comment from strangers: "You sure have your hands full!" You know what I'm talking about. I mean if you have little kids then you have gotten the comment, and even if you don't you have probably made the comment to someone else or at least been tempted to. Which reminds me, you should have seen Matt and me leaving church yesterday, as we tried to exchange Theo for a coat, Ida for a ridiculously overstuffed diaper bag all at one time. It was comedy. I'm surprised we didn't all collapse in a heap.

I always thought the Hands Full Comment would bother me, but it doesn't--unless I am really losing it, in which case I want to reply, "So are you going to offer to help or what?" Instead, for the most part it reminds me that I am stretched to capacity, and when I think of it that way I feel good about it. I heard a George Bernard Shaw quote yesterday: "I want to be thoroughly used up when I die, for the harder I work the more I live." Theo and Ida are forcing Matt and me in that direction, and when I am in a pondering mood (e.g., right now) I am grateful for that. If left to my own devices I rarely work that hard.

So, my hands are full. That's why I never seem to have time even if I can't really quantify any results when I punch the clock each night (ha!), other than a couple of people who are healthy (usually), clean (somewhat), and happy (mostly).

Which reminds me: Harry and Barb: 41 years today. Can you imagine how full their hands have been for 41 years having raised 6 kids to adulthood? Neither can I. They can, and they're still together, and healthy and clean and happy too.