The Real Mystery of Meatloaf

Yesterday I decided I was going to accomplish just three things.  Start the blog, do 25 sit-ups, and make dinner.  Sounds painless enough but when I wrote the plan down, it morphed into a list of over thirty items.  You can guess how many things got checked off. 

This morning I was greeted with, “Thanks again for making that meatloaf, Mom.”  No good morning or hello.

I wondered, has he already mastered the technique of “guilt your opponent into submission” at the ripe old age of 8, or should I make dinner more often?  The peanut butter and jelly plan doesn’t seem to cut it anymore. 

Possibly because my usual response when asked “What’s for dinner?” is, “Oh, yeah!  About that… um, do we have any bread?” 

They respond, “No.  Do we have any clean spoons?” because they know that if I didn’t have time to see if we had bread, I probably didn’t have time to wash the dishes either.  Kids are pretty smart.

Then we try to find any left-over plastic spoons.  At least it’s not ice cream for dinner anymore.  Add a carrot stick or banana and we’re good right? 

How many years from now will the kids be sitting around the Christmas tree when someone says, “Hey, remember that one time Mom made dinner!?  It was meatloaf, right?”  Their eyes will gloss over as they search back through the depths of their memories.  Their tummies will grumble and they will lick their lips remembering.

But hey, I made the time for writing!  Maybe I will incorporate that into a book for them to cherish for the rest of their lives.  A meal is only enjoyed for a few moments.  Right?  I need to be a good example for them to know that they need to work for achieving their dreams, even if it causes a nightmare on the way.

Are you experiencing any nightmarish blessings?  Let me know about it!  Leave a comment or drop me an email.

It’s never too late.

Hi.  Welcome to my blog.  My name is Lydia Taggart and I am a writer.  It’s high time I stop trying to ignore it.  Feel the fear and do it anyway.  It almost feels like a twelve step program here, and maybe it should.  Writing can be addictive and interfere with the rest of my life.  It is also something I avoid with a passion because of my fear of success, getting to know myself too well, or letting others know me too well.

When I get the chance to write I feel liberated.  Reading and studying about writing invigorates me.  For my “real job” I substitute for a few elementary schools in our area.  Last year, when I discovered the teacher I was covering for maternity leave not only taught Literature, but she taught the same thing three times a day as kids rotated through, my heart skipped a beat.  I love words so much that I actually had a kid in said class ask why I kept singing so much.  I had not realized I was that happy until he pointed it out.  That could have been embarrassing if I cared, but any embarrassment was outweighed by the thought of teaching those snooty sixth graders about building a story!

It might sound weird, but I didn’t realize I was a writer then.  I dreamed of writing and I dabbled here and there, but it was not part of who I am yet.

Lately I have been going through a lot of regrets; wishing I had kept up my other blog, spent more time with the kids, gotten further ahead on the laundry, found the time to exercise, AND made more time for my writing. 

As they say, misery loves company.  The more I thought of all the things I wish I was better at, the longer the list became.

One day, about a month ago, I heard this said, “It’s never too late.”  This hit me and my brain ran with it.

It’s never too late to say thank you.  It’s never too late to say I’m sorry.  And it’s never too late to try harder to do, or be your very best.

So, here goes.  Thank you for taking the time to check out my blog.  I hope it gives you the comfort, inspiration, and laughter you need to get through another day.  The purpose of this blog is to share my bits of wisdom, however small they may be, and funny experiences in hopes that it can lift someone's heart.   

I thank the Lord for the gifts I have been given, one of which is writing. 

I am a writer.  I’m sorry I took so long for me to figure that out, and I’m sorry I procrastinate so well.  (I practice procrastinating more than any of my other talents.)  Thank you in advance for being so patient with me.

This new blog is my promise to try harder to do my best, and strive to bring others along with me on the journey to greatness. 

Just as misery loves company, I have learned the opposite is also true.  The more I focus on the good, the longer that list gets.  The more I seek to lift someone's burden, the easier my load is to carry. 

The more attention I give to writing, the more attention my writing gets. Imagine that.

So, find a smile and remember, it’s never too late. 

Please feel free to follow my blog and share with your friends.  Make me accountable to my promise and give me the safety in numbers my fearful heart needs. Thanks!