Letters to the Future Blogfest!

Dear Me-in-Five-Years,

I'm nervous writing to you because you're probably so much more accomplished than I am, so much more mature. Gosh, you're going to be forty next year. Dude, you're getting old! You're probably reading this letter, rolling your eyes, and thinking, "Boy, that old version of me was an idiot! Forty isn't old at all!"

Right now, I have five children. (Please don't tell me that in five years I will have more than five. If that's what God has planned for me, I'm glad I don't know about it.) My baby is four months old, which means in five years she'll be FIVE. Heading to Kindergarten.

Which means, in five years, I'll have LARGE CHUNKS OF QUIET TIME IN MY HOUSE.

What do you do with all this time, Future Me? How do you spend it? Hopefully you're writing, putting out the best books you've ever written, because, you know, you can actually sit down for longer than ten minutes and put what you're thinking down on paper. Enjoy that!

Hopefully you are not wasting this time watching soap operas and eating bon-bons or frittering it away on Facebook. If you are, I'm glad I don't know it now, because I would be tempted to kick your futuristic butt.

And while you're making the most of your quiet time, rest assured that I'm enjoying this stage -- having all these little people at home all day, kissing baby feet and cheeks, changing diapers. I'm relishing it because I know how quickly it will be over.

Don't look back and wonder if you spent too much time writing; don't regret it. I'm enjoying my children (our children?) and I love every moment with them, and most of the time I carve out for writing is when they're asleep. I know you have a propensity for looking back and feeling guilty about things. Don't. I love this stage of life-- living my dream of being a mommy-writer. I'm happy, you're happy. Be content. And keep working hard, now that life isn't so demanding (though I know you're still a car-pool mom and will be one for many years to come).

I don't have an agent. I don't have a book deal.

I've never signed an autograph. I've never written a dedication page.

I wonder if you have.

I wonder what your dreams are. Are they the same as mine, or have you fulfilled some of them, moved on to new ones?

I have so many questions for you, but when it comes down to it, I'm glad I don't know the answers. It'll be fun to find them out for myself.

All the best,

The Me of Now