Questioning abilities

It's too quiet in my house this morning. My kids are both off with a neighbor, riding on a float at the Catfish Festival going on this weekend.

Here I am, sitting at my computer, trying to convince the blogging community that I am an interesting person who has many deep things to write about, only to realize that I must suffer from delusions of grandeur. This doesn't surprise me as I'm constantly thriving for a dose of self confidence that seems to continually elude my grasp. I'll often talk myself up in my own mind, which temporarily makes me feel better. Generally though, reality hits and I realize that what I write is most likely only humorous only to me.

I don't have any particular talent that makes me shine above all the others. I played the piano for a short time as a child but didn't stick with it (I wasn't very good). I'm not an athlete. I can't sing. I'm no artist. What makes me think that people would want to read what I have to say?

So I sit. And I wonder. And I contemplate. Then my children walk through the door, filled with excitement about the parade and the float. My eldest daughter yells across the house "Lucyyyyy, I'm hooooooome!" I respond "You got some splaining to do!" (I don't know why or how this started). My youngest runs up to me in the office and kisses me on the cheek. I can't resist, so I reach over and give her a big hug and rub my cheek on her hair. I ask her if she had a good time and she nods her head vigorously, squirming to escape the confines of my arms. Then she burps loudly and I smell the familiar scent of a grape lollipop.

Things suddenly fall into place. As both my children clamor for my attention, I realize that there is something I do well. All I have to do is look at my children. They think I am special, and that is what really counts.