My friend Jeff is a thinker.  I’m a thinker, too.  We do not, however, think alike.  Our thoughts seldom travel the same wavelength and/or velocity wave.  Despite, or possibly because of our differences, we enjoy hearing what the other has to say about…most anything.

We are both participating in NaBloPoMo. Both of us have posted twelve blogs since the first of November which makes us both eligible for a prize.  (Yay!  A prize! ) 

In many ways, we’ve already won.

His post today was a series of prompts.  He invited friends to participate.  I’m a friend. 

This is my take on his subject.

I am a Mom, with a capital “M”.  A friend said that to me once.  He was/is right.  I am a Mom. 

I never meant to be.  I didn’t want children. 

Like every other 14 year old girl in 1979, I babysat.  Unlike most, I hated it.  Every minute of it. 

I never planned to have children.  They were messy.  They were mouthy.  They were every unflattering “m” word you can imagine. 

At 14, at my idealistic, ultra-dramatic best, I decided to adopt.  I wouldn’t marry. I would adopt. 

And she shall be called…”Tanganika”.

Well into my twenties, I learned that Tanganika is the largest lake on the African continent.

My daughter was born when I was 22.  Her name is Jennifer.

I think often.  Too much, really.  I spend much of my time inside myself.  This is not necessarily a good thing, but I do think most writers share this affliction.  I am, currently, participating in a debate (inside myself, of course).  On one side are those who would change me.  On the other are those who are sure that who I am is what allows me to be what I have to be to do what I do. 

So far it’s a draw.

I know…very little.  Fortunately, I’m a free spirit.  I can go with the flow.  If what is true today is not necessarily true tomorrow, my day won’t be ruined.  I consider it a challenge.  We’ll figure it out.  And, of course, what we can’t figure out, we’ll shove aside.  Where there’s a will, there’s a way...

(Reading over this I am struck by the use of “we”, as in “We’ll figure it out.”   I began changing it until I realized there is some meaning in the use of that word.  I’ve let it stand.  I’ll figure it out.)

I feel happy more often than not and, for me, that’s an improvement.  I’ve realized my blessings.  There’s this man…he’s a good man and he cares for me.  More importantly, he cares for my child.  Nothing, (Did you hear me?), nothing, marriage aside, nothing endears a man to a woman more than his love for her child.

I wonder if those I’ve left behind think of me.  I wonder if my mother really does look over my shoulder.  I wonder how long I’ll be here.  I wonder what my kids REALLY think of me.  I wonder if it matters….

I see only what I want to see.  And, this makes me no different, no more important, and certainly no less culpable than anyone else.  Many years ago I learned that my serenity is key to my functionality.  Defense mechanisms I never knew I had kicked into over-drive.  The evening news went off and newspaper subscriptions were cancelled.  Political discussions went on around me, minus my participation.  My children called to tell me their problems.  I got the gist, asking no questions.  I remembered how I had gotten through other difficult times in my life by asking the question “Is there anything I can reasonably do to make this situation better?”.  If the answer is “yes”, I have an impetus to move on to the solution.  If the answer is “no”, I move on.

I believe I can do it. I have to.

I can sing.  I really can.  I sing all the time.  I sing with my IPOD.  I sing with the radio.  Sometimes I sing for no reason at all.  I sang with a band.  It was called 28 Days...it was a girl band…do the math. 

I can cook.  I really can.  I can cook with the best of them.  Unfortunately, for those who would have me cook all the time, I don’t like to cook all the time.  I like to cook when I like to cook.  I like to cook on holidays.  I like to cook for parties.  I like to cook for other people. 

I can write.  I can.  We all can, really.  Some of us just write stuff other people might want to read.  And, that’s the difference.

I can roll my tongue. 

I can blow smoke rings. 

I could blow smoke rings. 

Actually, I can probably still blow smoke rings, only I don’t smoke.  But, if I did, I could.

I ought to get out more.  See “I think…”

I will do what I have to do.  I will also do what I want to do.  I will not necessarily do what you want, and or, expect me to do.  Therein, lies the rub.

I serve a purpose.  I know this because I know there is a God, a God who created me, a God who has better things to do than create something without purpose.  Therefore, I have a purpose.  This purpose is different things to different people and that is as it should be.