*Just a warning - this post is dumb. There is no point to it. I am procrastinating doing important things that will require thought and movement. I really don't even know why I wrote it. If you are like me and procrastinating, waste a minute and read it. If you are a productive, busy person...skip it.*
Why do we love the things we love? Associations with family, friends? Tied to memories? Just the way we're made?
I love the smell of gasoline...no idea why.
I love the smell of the bookstore. Coffee, books...freedom.
I love the smell of Mom boiling a chicken and baking pie. Comforts.
I love the smell of Kevin's neck, and my kids hair. Closeness, a privilege. They're mine.
I love the feel of a baby's hand on my face. Sweetness.
I love the feel of the top of Kevin's hand. Strength. Tenderness.
I love touching my kids ears. When they were born, it was the first thing I looked at, glad they both had their fathers ears. One of my cousin's had an ear thing, and I remember as a teen watching her touch her son's ears. It seemed so loving to me, and remember thinking that is how he will know his mommy loves him. So ears became more that just ears to me.
I love violin music. Relaxing.
I love being called Mama more than anything in the world...more than Mommy or Brynnie or sweetheart...I just think Mama is the most precious word you could hear. I don't hear that as often anymore.
I love feeling wanted. Needed, not as much...it can be quite a responsibility.
I love the sound of Taylor's laugh. There is nothing like it.
I hate the sound of Kevin snoring. There is nothing like it.
I hate clutter. Feeling closed in.
I hate feeling rushed.
I hate yelling, and am working on extinguishing this habit as a discipline technique. Easier said than done, to not repeat the sins of the father. My girls get the best of me, but have also gotten the worst.
I hate the sound of dogs barking. Annoying.
I love the way my mom says "Hi Brynnie" when she calls me. I know that right then nothing is more important to her than hearing about my day. She always tells me I do too much, and I feel like everyone else in the world but her thinks I should do more. No one loves me like my mom does.
I love watching our 2 black cats lick each other, and snuggle. They're brothers, they're not "into" it, they just really love each other. It makes me so happy we adopted both - where would one be without the other? Maela, our older cat, hates them and wishes we had left both at the pound.
I love hearing my girls play together and actually get along. Sisters.
I love hearing Kevin laugh so hard I know it's imminent that he will vomit. I don't like the vomiting part, but if I'm the one who made him laugh I feel so proud of myself.
I'll write something more important later. Maybe.