I want to write out my thoughts, for myself.

I was sitting on my phone, or rather, I was sitting, with my phone in my hands. I finished checking emails, checking Facebook, getting rid of all my notifications, when I just wanted to play minesweeper. I just wanted SOMETHING to pass the time.

But then, I thought of how I’ve been struggling with motivation. Let’s face it: I’m home all day with 2 kids, but I don’t know what to do.

I could write songs. I could write stories. I could learn to play guitar. I could work on art.

There’s just too many things I could do! So, which do I choose to do?

None.

I don’t draw, and I don’t write. I don’t pick up that guitar, and I don’t try anything productive. I’m too tired. I’d rather pick up a video game (*cough* Animal Crossing).

And it makes me feel great about myself. At least, it does at first. Until I’m not playing it anymore. Then, I realize the day is over and I didn’t do anything I wanted to do. “You know, that guitar,” my conscience nudges.

And I hate that.

So, today, instead of playing Minesweeper, I decided to pick up my phone and do some introspection.

What’s new.

Well, after almost 4 years of marriage, my husband and I have accomplished so much! Our 2 kids are so cute! One is potty trained, and the other is walking.

When I look back on our college years, it seems like we could never catch a break. The only peaceful time I remember was the semester before we got engaged.

We planned our wedding, got married, and just as the semester after our marriage started, I discovered we were expecting a baby.

Pregnancy was a trial all of its own, and I couldn’t have done it without my husband, who would carry me up the staircases to our apartment when I was in my third trimester, make a different meal each day in my first trimester, and support me through my mood swings in my second trimester. And, he went to all my appointments.

And when our daughter was born, he went with me to all of her doctor appointments too.

We enjoyed watching her grow. It was magical having a baby of my own.

She was just learning to walk (14 months) when I discovered I was pregnant with our second child. She didn’t quite understand why my belly was getting bigger and bigger, but she enjoyed all the visits to the doctors with me (and my husband went on those too).

I remember the hard decision to have my second baby using an epidural, after a long day of labor (my first baby had been born naturally). And I was so glad for it. It still hurt, but no where near as bad as the first time I’d given birth.

Then, when my daughter woke up to a new baby in my arms crying, she suddenly realized she wasn’t alone anymore.

Now, he is 1, and they play together. But mostly, he gets on her nerves, pulls her hair, and pinches her arm. In return, she pushes him, raises her voice like she’s his momma, and kicks him when he gets too close to her.

At least, that’s what was happening. They’re really starting to bond together now. I couldn’t be happier about that.

We have been through many hardships together. Many slammed doors. But we’ve decided to roll with it. And we move on.

And God is in our lives. He can see our path. And I believe that He will keep guiding it of we will accept it.

Now that I’ve done this writing for the day, I’m feeling pretty good. Maybe I will pick up that guitar after all.