miércoles, 25 de agosto de 2010

I Want . . .

We got home at almost two o'clock after the ladies' Bible study at the Gringo Church (aka, Saltillo International Church). Everyone brought delicious cake, cookies, and egg dishes to share and this morning we just sat around forever and a half, chatting the morning away. So nice, as we haven't gotten together since school got out. Therefore, we left late. And then I got caught in the after-school traffic. Grrr . . . Someday I'll wise up.

Clara managed to get a 20 minute nap while stuck in traffic, and most Wednesdays, she thinks that's enough. I disagree. My plan to convince her to rest for an hour or more is to feed her, throw her in the tub/pool and then, to bed.

As soon as we walked in the door she got antsy. "Do you want to eat?"

Immediately, she put her finger to her nose to signal "please" (or yes, as the case may be).

I started scrambling an egg. (She's more of a lady than I am and didn't gorge herself on the cakes and cookies as I did.) When I turned on the burner to melt the butter for her egg, she got whiny all over again.

"Are you sleepy? Do you want to go to bed?"


OK, what is it that she wants? Of course, at nearly two o'clock, she probably is both hungry and sleepy. But sometimes I catch her by asking her questions beginning with, "do you want . . . ?" and whatever it is that I ask her that she wants, she'll say, "Oh, yeah--that would be great!"

All her life, I've been a big believer that she understands what I'm saying. However, part of me wonders if she just hears the word "want" and thinks, "yep, I want".

And really, don't I do that, too? The power of suggestion is strong. Last night, Mario went to the grocery store by himself (oh, so dangerous), and as soon as I saw the bottle of Coke he brought home (knowing he was planning on making himself a cuba libre with it), I developed an overwhelming urge for a cuba myself. I never would have thought of that on my own. But oh, those little triggers.

Also, part of me is itching for something new. There are a number of stores for rent near us, a few that would be perfect for a bakery. Oh, how I want to run a bakery! Sometimes I think over the idea in my head until it seems like the most idyllic situation in the world. (Daydreams don't leave room for irritating realities.) Then, I sit back and think, "wait--I have a very small daughter, and I've always really wanted to be able to have the opportunity to stay home with her."

This opportunity is presenting itself now. Three years from now, when she's in school, is not the time for me to decide to stay home with her.

Like Clara, I want . . . I want. I apparently want any good idea that's presented to me.

But one thing at a time.

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