A few days ago, I wrote about how much I've been needing alone time; how I haven't exactly been much of a people person. I told you how tough I've been on my poor husband (I think I actually called him a "girl" for wanting to spend more time with me - I know, horrible). But everything I said was a plea for understanding. Everything I wrote was an explanation of how I often feel possessed by emotions (or lack thereof) that I do not understand.
It seems as if God has been listening to Alanis Morrisette lately as my life has definitely entered Isn't It Ironic territory. Today, I came home to find my daughter in a less than sociable mood. Sitting in a chair, glued to her computer, she barely acknowledged my presence. By the time I pried the fifth word out of her mouth, I came to the realization that I was getting a taste of my own bitter medicine. And it didn't go down very well.
While I could identify with the mood she was in, I sure didn't like having to deal with it. I had things I wanted to say to her. I had things I needed her to hear. I wanted to engage in a conversation that would last longer than three sentences. But I knew it was futile. I knew I had to wait. I knew there would be another, better time.
Now I need to learn to back off and wait for it.
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