A revelation

As long as I can remember, I've needed a pen in my hand. I have always felt more than compelled to sprawl words out on a page as fast as my hand could write. It was more than a want, more than a hobby... it was debilitating. If I couldn't spend most of my time writing out whatever came to my head, I was going crazy.. couldn't concentrate, couldn't socialize.. had to write, had to EXPRESS.

At some point that need all but vanished. After a while I decided it was because I had kids. Pregnancy brings a dumbness with it that really just makes you seem like a great big idiot. Forgetting everything, the inability to construct a sentence... and a good portion of your intelligence just doesn't return to you after the baby comes out. (Only people who have had kids will understand what I'm saying here... other people think it's a myth, but seriously... if you've had a child, I'm sure you know what I'm talking about. I'm not imagining it.) I blamed this newfound "dumbness" for eliminating my drive to write.

Until last night.

Steve came home from work a little early yesterday, around 4 pm or so, and announced he wanted to take the boys fishing. This is EXTREMELY unique, people, he never takes the boys places alone! I was OVERJOYED. I haven't been ALONE in... oh geez, I have no idea how long. Even when I do get to be alone, it's never at home; I hardly knew what to do with myself. He got the boys ready and took off with them, and I was left going over the list of things I could possibly do with my time alone.

Watch a movie, take a bath, paint, do some paperwork, make a budget, sticker catalogs....

I finally decided on something I haven't done in YEARS: Paint my toenails and read a book. A BOOK, people! I have not read a novel since A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, junior year of high school.

I painted my toenails AND had time to let them dry completely, and picked a book off my new bookshelf. I read all night, even after the boys came home and went to bed. Then I woke up this morning and couldn't wait for naptime so I could read more. I read through naptime and ended up still reading when Steve got home at 5:30. Poor guy came home to me in my pajamas on the couch, buried in a book! He's never seen me read, let alone all day. I finished the book about 8 o'clock tonight, remembering that I quit reading because once I start I can't stop.

THEN I realized... I didn't quit writing because of pregnancy dumbness. I stopped writing because I stopped reading! I can't believe this is a surprise to me. Mrs Bean told us half a million times that reading is the key to writing, and I believe every word that comes out of that woman's mouth. Somehow, though, I'd forgotten that part until tonight.


Thank goodness for my night off last night! It was incredible to be alone in the silence, but even more incredible to remember that I love to read... and write! I'm just dying to go pick up some new notebooks and start writing. (If only I could afford it!)