Years ago, before I had kids, I was up late talking with a good friend about hobbies.At some point she said, completely innocently, “Honestly, the only hobby I associate with you is TV.” I remember feeling stunned and honestly, a little sad.

Was that really how I came across? Boring. Passive. Just someone who watched television. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized the truth was a little more complicated. She wasn’t wrong about what she saw, the problem was that I had hidden everything else.Didn’t she know how much I loved reading? Music? Art?

Well… not really. Because I never talked about those things. Instead, I talked about what I thought we had in common: the shows we watched. It was a strange realization that some of the most meaningful parts of myself had quietly slipped into the background, even among close friends. I was making myself smaller to avoid rejection. If I paint a painting and my friends don’t like it, that hurts, but if we disagree on TV shows, it’s not as tied to my self-worth.

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These days, I’ve been thinking about that conversation again as I reflect on something I care deeply about: being a lifelong student.

Right now I’m learning piano, something I’ve wanted to do for years. My list of things I still want to try is long in the best possible way. A pottery class. Glass-blowing. A cooking class just for the joy of learning something new.

Over the years I’ve written, illustrated, and self-published books. I paint in acrylic and watercolor and dream of learning oils. I garden. I cook. I take photographs. One of my favorite photos: a black and white landscape of the mountains where my husband proposed, is blown up huge and hangs where everyone sees it when they walk into our home.

I love being outside in nature. I’m a trained herbalist, curtesy of my bohemian days. I read constantly. I write. I study history.

In other words, I’m not a boring person.

Strangely enough, becoming a mom has awakened so much of that in me. Motherhood didn’t erase who I was. It actually revealed parts of me that had been waiting patiently all along.

But it is hard. Don’t get me wrong, there are hard days, months, and even years, when sleep is a huge gift and the thought of sacrificing shower time to make pottery is laughable.

No one is going to knock on the door and say, “Hey, why don’t you take an hour and watercolor? There’s no official invitation to protect those small, creative parts of ourselves, we have to choose it. Oh, what a privilege that is.

I think it’s important, even necessary, that we don’t lose ourselves in motherhood. We aren’t just caretakers of little lives. We are also people who get to learn, explore, and try things simply because they are beautiful or interesting or life-giving.

What a gift that is. What a feast this life is.

Isn’t it glorious that we are allowed to taste from more than one dish.