May 6: What I do

Today's prompt:  If you couldn't answer with your job, how would you answer the question, "What do you do?"

That question has always made me cringe a little bit.  Maybe it's because there will always be a certain amount of shame or regret for what I didn't become, or wondering what could have been had life gone differently.  I don't let myself dwell there often, but there's this feeling of sadness sometimes when I think about the 'what-could-have-beens' in life.  It's not so much that I'm not proud of myself or my job.  But it's quite true, that I'm so much than merely a bookkeeper. 

Years ago, I started out as a secretary for a small HVAC company and over time I taught myself how to do some of the bookkeeping tasks.  Eventually, the bookkeeper there left and I took over.  Since then, my main line of work has been in that field.  I do taxes, payroll, enter and pay bills, create invoices, reconcile accounts - and on and on.  I never really saw myself in this line of work, but my detail-oriented mind is quite good at it.

Really, it's just my job and how I make a living.  I'm grateful to have learned the skill and can contribute to our family's needs.  But that's not all I do and it's not all of who I am. 

I'm a creator.  I LOVE to make things.  Wreaths, cookies, decorations, pies, crafty projects, chocolate concotions, gifts for others - basically if can be made with either butter or hot glue, I'm totally in.



I write.  Ever since I was a little girl, I've been making up stories, writing down pieces of my own, forming poetry and even starting chapters to silly books that I sadly never finished.  The time to sit and write anything other than blog posts these days is few and far between.  Maybe someday there will be memoirs and novels and a thousand other things that need to come out of me.  For now though, one of my greatest passions leaks out only in the form of journal entries and blog posts.



I do motherhood.  I change diapers and make chicken nuggets.  I read story books and blow bubbles and play with trucks.  I climb in tents and rock babies to sleep.  I snuggle and discipline and pick up messes.  I get spit up and pee and bath water all over me.  And for the most part, I enjoy every glorious moment of it all.

And I live.  I don't want to watch life pass me by or just be about going to work and planting myself in front of the TV or the computer every night.  I want to purpose to do something.  I swim, I sing, I party, I engage, I read, I climb, I walk, I dance, I dream, I bake, I create, I laugh, I cry, I feel, I love.  I want this life to count for something.  I want all of my wreath-making and book-keeping and mothering and party-planning and story-writing to leave a mark on this world and on others. 

At the end of the day, I don't think it really matters what any of us do.  Whether our lives feel big or small, famous or hidden, glamorous or simple.  It just matters most importantly, that we DO.