Back in 2008, after a crazy, week-long road trip with the two year old, I felt the need for perspective and embarked on a month-long journey of being thankful. I titled it 30 Days of Thanks. The following year, our second child was born and a friend took up the task. I tackled it again in 2010, the same month that I also challenged myself to NaNoWriMo. That was a month of crazy. Last year it appeared to morph onto Facebook statuses and this year, I see folks I've never met quoting 30 Days of Thanks all over walls and twitter feeds. My little idea has gone viral.
Which only makes me feel even more guilty that I haven't even attempted to participate this year. Not at all. Not even a little bit.
Not that I'm not thankful. Goodness knows I have so many things in my life that I am grateful for and should take a moment to recognize. The only problem has been that this particular November has been jam packed full of work deadlines, school commitments, birthday parties and Thanksgiving hosting duties. All sound like weak excuses and all the more reason to stop and smell the proverbial roses. However, part of my rule of threes and attempt at single-tasking is giving myself permission sometimes to not participate. Not to participate in worry. Not to participate in every activity. Not to participate in petty arguments. And not to participate in one more task that instead of allowing me to feel thankful, would probably just make me feel more pressure to complete another task. Not really the point of the exercise at all.
The good news is that I find myself with a strange Sunday afternoon where I don't have laundry to do, the groceries have been procured and put away, the house is finally quiet after a holiday of out of town guests and the hubby has taken the boys to a playground. I am taking this moment to look back on all that I do have to be thankful for this year and knocking out 30 Days in one go. Please indulge me for a moment...
1. My kids - I never knew that something that can cause such frustration and angst could also deliver such profound feelings of love, laughter and joy.
2. My husband - I don't tell him enough how much he means to me. But without his steady hand, there is no way I'd be able to do/be/see/love as much. He's the real deal and I'm a lucky lady.
3. My sister - She embodies strength every day, even when she's feeling her weakest. Not to mention we can laugh until I'm crying and she's wheezing like a smoker simply by looking at each other.
4. My parents - They are two of the toughest, most selfless people I know and they would walk through fire for my sister and I.
5. Real Housewives - Before I get too serious, let's be thankful for those moments when I don't have to pretend like I'm making it work and can watch a bunch of crazy, catty ladies who appear to have everything and yet are completely f'd up in ways I can't even fathom. Thanks for making me feel normal again, ladies, and so entertained at the same time.
6. My health - This summer has had its share of medical drama and I'm pleased to be on this side of it and eager to move beyond it.
7. Calendars, iPhone reminders and color coded sharpies - without them, I'd be more of a mess than I already am.
8. Room moms - Because I don't think I have it in me, I am so glad that these ladies do and make it look so easy while doing it.
9. Peppa Pig - My 3 year old now calls his grandma "Granny" and pronounces tomato "toe-mah-toe" thanks to these little British piggies. Truly adorable.
10. New Friends - It's so fun to watch my boys navigate new friendships in the new school year and find new interests as a result. Not to mention all the new moms and dads we get to meet.
11. Old Friends - I have a wonderful group of people around me that I can reach out to for a play date, advice, a movie date, book recommendations, trips down memory lane, laughs, or a shoulder to lean on.
11. Work - As complex as it makes my life sometimes, I truly enjoy the people I work with, the work I'm doing and the challenge it presents.
12. Water - There is something so soothing to my soul about being near the water, whether it's a lake, the beach or a river. I am so thankful to have had time at the beach this year to reset.
13. Family - Taking the kids to my extended family's haunts in New England this summer was a highlight I will not soon forget. Clamoring on stone walls, playing in the pond, pool games, cousins, great aunts and uncles, chowder, chocolate cake, brotherly bonding.
14. Chapel Hill - our home away from home.
15. Clean house - it doesn't happen often, but when it does, boy does it make me feel good.
16. Playgrounds - My boys love playgrounds. I love that they love to be active. I love that on a playground I can play as much or as little as they need me to. Some days they want to just run around with their friends. Other days, the little guy and I can play pretend games in a deserted play structure.
17. Cousins - I love that my boys have a built-in group of friends for life because they have cousins.
18. Babysitters - Cause when you can't find one, you realize how dependent you are on them.
19. Leftovers - Not just because it's Thanksgiving and I haven't had to cook a meal since Thursday, but leftovers always make the next day so much easier, don't they?
20. Books - Even when I'm busy, I love having a book to read. A story can take me to so many places. When I don't have a book, I feel unmoored, a little lost, a tad bit lonely.
21. School programs - I love that we're finally in Kindergarten and have Thanksgiving sing alongs, Halloween character parades and other programs to attend. They are so silly and predictable, but seeing my first born up there participating in these rites of childhood is so fun.
22. Quiet afternoons - I am so thankful for this afternoon. It is so rare to have a quiet house to myself and the freedom in my schedule to know that there is nothing that HAS to be done right in this moment.
23. Not having to travel this holiday. It's always nice to not be in the car driving down I-85 for an entire afternoon.
24. Board games. Yes, I'm a dork.
25. Ice skating - even if the boys didn't quite get it yet this year, it was still fun to be gliding out on the ice for a little bit.
26. Home town fun - I love living in Atlanta and all that it offers. Museums, the zoo, the Botanical Garden, parks. There is so much available to do, if we want to.
27. Pie - yup, Thanksgiving is still on my mind, but pie is just perfection.
28. Sweaters - A nice cozy sweater on a cool day is just so comforting.
29. Tickles - There is nothing that makes my day more than the sound of my kids laughing and, when I need a little pick-me-up, I have been known to resort to a bit of tickling to hear it. They never disappoint.
30. Jumping in puddles - Because life needs to be silly, and those are the moments that I am most thankful for.
Sunday, November 25, 2012
Wednesday, November 21, 2012
Multitasking Myth
Multitask - vb, to work at several different tasks simultaneously. (courtesy dictionary.com).
As a mother, I thought I was the queen of multitasking. Soothing kids while making dinner, rocking babies while writing blog posts, nursing while going to the bathroom (yes, I managed this a couple of times). When I started working last year, I assumed multitasking was the way to go, answer phone calls at the playground, sending media advisories while the kids are playing, cleaning the house while cooking dinner and playing Chutes & Ladders. No biggie. Right?
Wrong.
The last few weeks I have come to the realization that multitasking is a myth. The more I stretch myself between tasks, the less effective I am at completing them, or completing them well. I have tried to make a conscious effort to focus on one thing at a time. Whether it's finishing up one work task before picking up the next, or dedicating time to household tasks, or spending time with the kids.
Sure, multitasking happens. There was getting the boys involved in the birthday party goody bag prep that ended up being an enjoyable joint activity while also getting something checked off the list. There was the cleaning the house while the boys had friends over for a play date (hello, distractions). And, of course, there was the taking a conference call while at a child's birthday party with the 3 year old who, of course, had to make a trip to the potty. Thank goodness those editors had no idea what was going on on the other end of my muted line.
But if I've learned anything from these flex schedule work arrangement and mothering gigs, it's that things always get done. Maybe not right when I want them to, sometimes late at night, but they always get done.
I'm learning to cut myself some slack and focus on one thing at a time. It's a subtle difference to how I approach my day, but seems to be working.
Like right now. I've been typing this in the early hours while the kids are snuggled up beside me watching a little vacation morning TV. Think I'll hit publish and join them under the blanket.
Time to focus.
As a mother, I thought I was the queen of multitasking. Soothing kids while making dinner, rocking babies while writing blog posts, nursing while going to the bathroom (yes, I managed this a couple of times). When I started working last year, I assumed multitasking was the way to go, answer phone calls at the playground, sending media advisories while the kids are playing, cleaning the house while cooking dinner and playing Chutes & Ladders. No biggie. Right?
Wrong.
The last few weeks I have come to the realization that multitasking is a myth. The more I stretch myself between tasks, the less effective I am at completing them, or completing them well. I have tried to make a conscious effort to focus on one thing at a time. Whether it's finishing up one work task before picking up the next, or dedicating time to household tasks, or spending time with the kids.
Sure, multitasking happens. There was getting the boys involved in the birthday party goody bag prep that ended up being an enjoyable joint activity while also getting something checked off the list. There was the cleaning the house while the boys had friends over for a play date (hello, distractions). And, of course, there was the taking a conference call while at a child's birthday party with the 3 year old who, of course, had to make a trip to the potty. Thank goodness those editors had no idea what was going on on the other end of my muted line.
But if I've learned anything from these flex schedule work arrangement and mothering gigs, it's that things always get done. Maybe not right when I want them to, sometimes late at night, but they always get done.
I'm learning to cut myself some slack and focus on one thing at a time. It's a subtle difference to how I approach my day, but seems to be working.
Like right now. I've been typing this in the early hours while the kids are snuggled up beside me watching a little vacation morning TV. Think I'll hit publish and join them under the blanket.
Time to focus.
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
The Day After
I had the privilege of volunteering in my son's kindergarten classroom today. My job was to go over an election work sheet and help the children cut out and paste answers to questions about what happens on election day, who was running, where the president lives, etc... Pretty benign.
I was surprised when some of the children started volunteering who their parents' had voted for. Per my earlierrant post, I did not share with my kids whom I voted for, despite the 6 year old's continued pleas. But the children were all pretty cute today, telling me about going to the polls with mom or dad and laughing when I told them the president's office was shaped like an oval and about the stickers they received.
And then...
One very adorable, sweet little girl pointed to the picture of one of the candidates, made a disgusted noise and said, "Ew! He's the bad man." I'm sure my mouth hit the floor while I tried to play if off.
"Sweetie, he's not a bad man. Both men want to help the country very much."
"No! He is a bad man. I'm going to color an X over his face because he's bad." And she vehemently went to work on just that.
As parents, we need to be so careful about what we say in front of our children. Whether you're talking about the presidential candidates, a neighbor, your in-laws, your boss, our children hear everything. If you speak in judgmental tones, so will your child. How sad that this little girl will now think that our presidential election was about good guys and bad guys when, quite honestly, anyone who wants to volunteer for the most thankless job in the world is worthy of respect regardless of whether you agree with their ideology or not.
Honestly, I am very saddened by this. Sad that it's come to this. To kindergartners repeating hateful words about people who deserve our respect. How can our country come together to solve our problems if we're raising our children to perpetuate it?
It was a wake-up call for me. I'll certainly be watching what comes out of my mouth. You never know where it will be repeated.
I was surprised when some of the children started volunteering who their parents' had voted for. Per my earlier
And then...
One very adorable, sweet little girl pointed to the picture of one of the candidates, made a disgusted noise and said, "Ew! He's the bad man." I'm sure my mouth hit the floor while I tried to play if off.
"Sweetie, he's not a bad man. Both men want to help the country very much."
"No! He is a bad man. I'm going to color an X over his face because he's bad." And she vehemently went to work on just that.
As parents, we need to be so careful about what we say in front of our children. Whether you're talking about the presidential candidates, a neighbor, your in-laws, your boss, our children hear everything. If you speak in judgmental tones, so will your child. How sad that this little girl will now think that our presidential election was about good guys and bad guys when, quite honestly, anyone who wants to volunteer for the most thankless job in the world is worthy of respect regardless of whether you agree with their ideology or not.
Honestly, I am very saddened by this. Sad that it's come to this. To kindergartners repeating hateful words about people who deserve our respect. How can our country come together to solve our problems if we're raising our children to perpetuate it?
It was a wake-up call for me. I'll certainly be watching what comes out of my mouth. You never know where it will be repeated.
Thursday, October 25, 2012
UNCLE!
I've had it.
This political season is about to push me over the edge. I think a lot of you, based on conversations I've had, feel the same way.
Let's get a few things straight.
I am a complex person. I believe in a certain set of values and ethics that I learned from my parents. My life is guided by this moral compass they so lovingly instilled. I am a product of my parents, grandparents, neighbors, teachers, church and friends. I found independence in college where I forged my own path, separate from these founding mothers and fathers, and began the evolution of my own, independent thought. There were hard lessons learned about friendship, business, the gray fog that lives between the stark contrasts of right and wrong, along the way as I married, moved and began a career. These people, experiences and situations all worked to forge the person I am today and my current city, neighborhood, friends, colleagues, children and present set of challenges provide me the opportunity to continue to evolve as a person and in my thought process.
You are a complex person. I can't conceive of what has happened in your life, what events have shaped you, influenced you and otherwise created the uniqueness that is you. I just know that we are friends. We are two complex people with enough similar interests to be writing and then reading this same piece of html space in the world. I respect our differences, hope to learn from your set of experiences in the same way I hope I can share what I have gleaned through life and together we can form a crooked puzzle piece of our relationship to add to the picture of humanity.
The world is a complex place. There are difficult problems and very few straightforward answers. There are a myriad of circumstances that make any one solution work for me and not work for you, or vice versa. There are entities that want the best for us and entities that want the best for themselves. And it's often difficult to figure out the difference, particularly when it comes to leadership where power can often blur vision and confuse priorities.
Now that we can all agree on the above set of complexities, let's get down to brass tacks.
I identify with a particular political party. It's on my voter registration. But, it does not define me nor does it define my vote.
Growing up, we watched the news during dinner. My parents openly discussed the news of the day in front of my sister and me. I did not necessarily know at the time which political party my parents identified with because it wasn't how we talked "back then." But I do remember my mom's pride when Mondale chose Ferraro as a running mate and how excited, in turn, I was as an 8 year old girl that a woman was on the ticket. I remember waiting for President Reagan to arrive in our hometown and being so excited to see him. I remember my father's outrage when my grandfather tried to get his goat by announcing he was going to vote for Perot.
And I remember each and every election day asking my parents who they voted for. And they never, not once, told me.
"It's a personal decision," my father would say. My sister and I would spend that meal trying to guess. Putting forth our arguments as to why we thought he would vote one way or she would vote the other and my dad would just sit back and smile. I imagine it probably amused him that we were having to think and articulate our positions in order to guess. At the end of the meal, however, that smile would simply be irritatingly enigmatic to my sister and me as we still had no certain idea who they had pulled the lever for.
Now, however, we seem to wear our political affiliations on our chests like we do our favorite team sweatshirts. Facebook has created a culture where not only can you share your opinion, but you can tell others they are wrong for having theirs. It's often contentious, rarely productive, conversations that result. And this is on both sides.
I have no problem with someone posting an article about a particular election issue and offering their insight into why one side might have a better solution. Those posts, however, seem to be fewer and farther between the simply incendiary ones posted with little to know explanation other than "my guy is better than your guy" or the even better "how could anyone vote for *this* guy?"
I read one of these in my timeline today, hence this diatribe. Post something informative. Don't tell me, show me. Make me take a step back to think on an issue and how it might affect someone other than myself because the fact of the matter is, I only walk in my own shoes and see things through my own eyes. Make me see something new.
Instead the tone is of superiority and condescension. It's ugly and mean and I don't need an acquaintance from college to insinuate I'm dumb for my beliefs because that's insulting me and the village of people and experiences that formed me. And frankly, I may identify with a particular political party, but I do actually look at the totality of a candidate and decide who best matches my priorities.
Because I am more than a D or an R. I am a woman, a mom, a wife, a daughter, a worker, a Catholic, a helper, a friend, a neighbor and a citizen. And if you look at me differently once you know which side of the fence I tend to sit on, then that says more about you than me, doesn't it?
The fact of the matter is we are all in this together. I have no doubt that both candidates truly have the best intentions for this nation at heart. You can't malign their motives. Their plans, sure. But their morals and motivation? How could you possibly know? How could you possibly presume?
So, please, don't presume you know me based on my voter registration.
I am a complex person.
This political season is about to push me over the edge. I think a lot of you, based on conversations I've had, feel the same way.
Let's get a few things straight.
I am a complex person. I believe in a certain set of values and ethics that I learned from my parents. My life is guided by this moral compass they so lovingly instilled. I am a product of my parents, grandparents, neighbors, teachers, church and friends. I found independence in college where I forged my own path, separate from these founding mothers and fathers, and began the evolution of my own, independent thought. There were hard lessons learned about friendship, business, the gray fog that lives between the stark contrasts of right and wrong, along the way as I married, moved and began a career. These people, experiences and situations all worked to forge the person I am today and my current city, neighborhood, friends, colleagues, children and present set of challenges provide me the opportunity to continue to evolve as a person and in my thought process.
You are a complex person. I can't conceive of what has happened in your life, what events have shaped you, influenced you and otherwise created the uniqueness that is you. I just know that we are friends. We are two complex people with enough similar interests to be writing and then reading this same piece of html space in the world. I respect our differences, hope to learn from your set of experiences in the same way I hope I can share what I have gleaned through life and together we can form a crooked puzzle piece of our relationship to add to the picture of humanity.
The world is a complex place. There are difficult problems and very few straightforward answers. There are a myriad of circumstances that make any one solution work for me and not work for you, or vice versa. There are entities that want the best for us and entities that want the best for themselves. And it's often difficult to figure out the difference, particularly when it comes to leadership where power can often blur vision and confuse priorities.
Now that we can all agree on the above set of complexities, let's get down to brass tacks.
I identify with a particular political party. It's on my voter registration. But, it does not define me nor does it define my vote.
Growing up, we watched the news during dinner. My parents openly discussed the news of the day in front of my sister and me. I did not necessarily know at the time which political party my parents identified with because it wasn't how we talked "back then." But I do remember my mom's pride when Mondale chose Ferraro as a running mate and how excited, in turn, I was as an 8 year old girl that a woman was on the ticket. I remember waiting for President Reagan to arrive in our hometown and being so excited to see him. I remember my father's outrage when my grandfather tried to get his goat by announcing he was going to vote for Perot.
And I remember each and every election day asking my parents who they voted for. And they never, not once, told me.
"It's a personal decision," my father would say. My sister and I would spend that meal trying to guess. Putting forth our arguments as to why we thought he would vote one way or she would vote the other and my dad would just sit back and smile. I imagine it probably amused him that we were having to think and articulate our positions in order to guess. At the end of the meal, however, that smile would simply be irritatingly enigmatic to my sister and me as we still had no certain idea who they had pulled the lever for.
Now, however, we seem to wear our political affiliations on our chests like we do our favorite team sweatshirts. Facebook has created a culture where not only can you share your opinion, but you can tell others they are wrong for having theirs. It's often contentious, rarely productive, conversations that result. And this is on both sides.
I have no problem with someone posting an article about a particular election issue and offering their insight into why one side might have a better solution. Those posts, however, seem to be fewer and farther between the simply incendiary ones posted with little to know explanation other than "my guy is better than your guy" or the even better "how could anyone vote for *this* guy?"
I read one of these in my timeline today, hence this diatribe. Post something informative. Don't tell me, show me. Make me take a step back to think on an issue and how it might affect someone other than myself because the fact of the matter is, I only walk in my own shoes and see things through my own eyes. Make me see something new.
Instead the tone is of superiority and condescension. It's ugly and mean and I don't need an acquaintance from college to insinuate I'm dumb for my beliefs because that's insulting me and the village of people and experiences that formed me. And frankly, I may identify with a particular political party, but I do actually look at the totality of a candidate and decide who best matches my priorities.
Because I am more than a D or an R. I am a woman, a mom, a wife, a daughter, a worker, a Catholic, a helper, a friend, a neighbor and a citizen. And if you look at me differently once you know which side of the fence I tend to sit on, then that says more about you than me, doesn't it?
The fact of the matter is we are all in this together. I have no doubt that both candidates truly have the best intentions for this nation at heart. You can't malign their motives. Their plans, sure. But their morals and motivation? How could you possibly know? How could you possibly presume?
So, please, don't presume you know me based on my voter registration.
I am a complex person.
Thursday, October 18, 2012
Sophie's Choice: Kid's Saturday Scheduling Edition
I knew it was bound to happen, but I still wasn't prepared for how to handle it. The 6 year old has been invited to a birthday party and has a soccer game at the exact same time. There is no way to do them both. We will have to choose.
The husband's initial reaction at the scheduling conflict was, "party." The birthday party is for a close friend, would be fun for the whole family and will most certainly involve cake.
BUT.
I began to wonder if we let him pick the party, what are we teaching him about commitment to team? Are we insinuating that it's okay to pick the fun thing over the obligation? Will this make it harder to get him to practice/Sunday school/anything he just doesn't feel like doing?
OR.
Are we making too big a deal about what it means to participate on a 6 year old soccer team? I mean, if we're ever going to blow off a game for a fun thing, it would be now, right? And it's not like we're letting him skip to watch TV or play in the yard or because he doesn't feel like it. It's a special circumstance.
And there will be cake. (I clearly have a problem with sweets lately).
UGH.
So, dear Internet friends, oh mothers of experience...am I overreacting?
Monday, October 15, 2012
Rule of Threes
Three blind mice. Three little pigs. The three bears. Three strikes. The holy trinity. Threes have a strange ring to it. We seek them out in writing and speeches. Wikipedia defines the rule of three as: "a writing principle that suggests that things that come in threes are inherently funnier, more satisfying, or more effective than other numbers of things."
I have recently come to the realization that my life only has room for three major categories on a daily basis. Or at least that's all my brain can handle. Two are unmovable items on my daily to-do list: the boys and work. The third thing is more flexible - redoing the boys' bedrooms, planning for a recent trip to the beach, tackling the soon-to-be three year old's birthday.
Unfortunately, my life of threes has not seemed funny, satisfying or more effective. It feels limiting. It feels frustrating. It feels exhausting. (Notice the three. Felt good, right?).
I want to constantly do more. Achieve more. Accomplish more. I can barely keep track of when which kid needs to wear what shirt to school for a field trip or spirit day and yet I expect I should be able to do more. There are few days when I don't think about this space. And yet here this space sits neglected. Lonely. Empty. August 5th staring from the top of the page as a reminder of how far from number three it has become on the priority list of my life.
So how can I be so exhausted at the end of each day and yet feel like I'm still not doing enough? My dear husband would tell you that my personal standards are too high. He's probably right, to an extent. I see accomplished women that I admire seemingly doing it all. I have to remind myself that I don't see the sausage being made. I don't see the hours spent not sleeping or the help they may have or their own moments of frustration. Comparing myself to others doesn't get me, or anyone else, anywhere. My bigger problem is comparing myself to the self I'd like to be in a perfect world of a 48 hour day, the need for only 4 hours of sleep a night and supersonic speed to slay through a to do list.
The strange thing is that the other day, while stuck in carpool, I realized this personal rule of threes. This idea that I can handle kids, work and only one other major priority on a daily basis. And at that moment, it was freeing. Why try to pile on? Take each day and decide what that third thing will be and get it done. When it's finished, whether that's in two hours or two days or two weeks, figure out the next thing. I have to let the rest go, mentally, until I have the time to tackle them with the attention they deserve.
That's why, today, after getting the kids to bed, knocking out a few work tasks and settling into the couch with a box of two-bite brownies (damn you, Publix), I opened up my sadly neglected address on blogspot and filled up some space before my eyelids closed themselves. The birthday party planning, the desk reorganization, the laundry, can all wait for another day this week.
Now that I recognize my personal rule of threes, I'm going to embrace it. Why fight to add a fourth thing that just won't get done anyway? I need to start setting myself up for success instead of failure.
It's time to accept, assess and achieve. There's that rhythm of three again.
Now if I could only stop at three brownies.
I have recently come to the realization that my life only has room for three major categories on a daily basis. Or at least that's all my brain can handle. Two are unmovable items on my daily to-do list: the boys and work. The third thing is more flexible - redoing the boys' bedrooms, planning for a recent trip to the beach, tackling the soon-to-be three year old's birthday.
Unfortunately, my life of threes has not seemed funny, satisfying or more effective. It feels limiting. It feels frustrating. It feels exhausting. (Notice the three. Felt good, right?).
I want to constantly do more. Achieve more. Accomplish more. I can barely keep track of when which kid needs to wear what shirt to school for a field trip or spirit day and yet I expect I should be able to do more. There are few days when I don't think about this space. And yet here this space sits neglected. Lonely. Empty. August 5th staring from the top of the page as a reminder of how far from number three it has become on the priority list of my life.
So how can I be so exhausted at the end of each day and yet feel like I'm still not doing enough? My dear husband would tell you that my personal standards are too high. He's probably right, to an extent. I see accomplished women that I admire seemingly doing it all. I have to remind myself that I don't see the sausage being made. I don't see the hours spent not sleeping or the help they may have or their own moments of frustration. Comparing myself to others doesn't get me, or anyone else, anywhere. My bigger problem is comparing myself to the self I'd like to be in a perfect world of a 48 hour day, the need for only 4 hours of sleep a night and supersonic speed to slay through a to do list.
The strange thing is that the other day, while stuck in carpool, I realized this personal rule of threes. This idea that I can handle kids, work and only one other major priority on a daily basis. And at that moment, it was freeing. Why try to pile on? Take each day and decide what that third thing will be and get it done. When it's finished, whether that's in two hours or two days or two weeks, figure out the next thing. I have to let the rest go, mentally, until I have the time to tackle them with the attention they deserve.
That's why, today, after getting the kids to bed, knocking out a few work tasks and settling into the couch with a box of two-bite brownies (damn you, Publix), I opened up my sadly neglected address on blogspot and filled up some space before my eyelids closed themselves. The birthday party planning, the desk reorganization, the laundry, can all wait for another day this week.
Now that I recognize my personal rule of threes, I'm going to embrace it. Why fight to add a fourth thing that just won't get done anyway? I need to start setting myself up for success instead of failure.
It's time to accept, assess and achieve. There's that rhythm of three again.
Now if I could only stop at three brownies.
Sunday, August 5, 2012
Kindergarten Eve
Tomorrow, my oldest starts Kindergarten.
A week ago, I was counting down the days to the start of school. We have struggled this summer: butting heads, having discipline setback after setback, and to be honest, I was craving a little distance from my stubborn five year old.
Now. It's here. And I am a mix of pride, terror, sadness, joy and trepidation. He's going to take a big step up into that bright yellow school bus tomorrow morning and I won't know a thing about what is happening to him until he steps back off 8 hours later.
His teacher seems fantastic. The school is stellar. The neighborhood's older kids will certainly look out for him on the bus. He will be fine.
While I will be a puddle of mess tonight, tomorrow morning and as I stand waiting for him to disembark at 3:15.
Wasn't it just a few days ago that I was sitting in this same spot, pounding down the ice cream, swollen ankles propped on the sofa waiting as day after day after day after my due date passed? Wasn't it just yesterday afternoon that I swayed my little one in my arms to our special song? Wasn't it just last night that he was still a toddler when I snuck in his room to check on him? Wasn't it just this morning that he started preschool?
Because those moments are simply a heartbeat away, tomorrow will be tough. Because those moments are simply a heartbeat away, tomorrow will be easy. I know there are many new experiences to come, funny stories to hear, comfort to be offered.
At some point, I'll have to deal with my own changes. Kindergarten means a new role for me, too. I'm not sure what it will entail or how different it will be from the roles I have now. So much of my decision to stay home hinged on the vague, "until the kids are in school." Tomorrow marks the beginning of that time. Granted, I've already started opening that door with part time work and I have several years before the little dude is ready for Kindergarten, it's simply strange to think that the past six years have slipped so effortlessly into space.
Tomorrow I will embrace the feelings that I have. I will accept the tears, fill my day with mimosas and conversation at a neighbor's back to school party, and relish the excitement on my big guy's face when he bounds down the steps of that bus in the afternoon.
As much as I want to hang on, this is my moment to let go.
A week ago, I was counting down the days to the start of school. We have struggled this summer: butting heads, having discipline setback after setback, and to be honest, I was craving a little distance from my stubborn five year old.
Now. It's here. And I am a mix of pride, terror, sadness, joy and trepidation. He's going to take a big step up into that bright yellow school bus tomorrow morning and I won't know a thing about what is happening to him until he steps back off 8 hours later.
His teacher seems fantastic. The school is stellar. The neighborhood's older kids will certainly look out for him on the bus. He will be fine.
While I will be a puddle of mess tonight, tomorrow morning and as I stand waiting for him to disembark at 3:15.
Wasn't it just a few days ago that I was sitting in this same spot, pounding down the ice cream, swollen ankles propped on the sofa waiting as day after day after day after my due date passed? Wasn't it just yesterday afternoon that I swayed my little one in my arms to our special song? Wasn't it just last night that he was still a toddler when I snuck in his room to check on him? Wasn't it just this morning that he started preschool?
Because those moments are simply a heartbeat away, tomorrow will be tough. Because those moments are simply a heartbeat away, tomorrow will be easy. I know there are many new experiences to come, funny stories to hear, comfort to be offered.
At some point, I'll have to deal with my own changes. Kindergarten means a new role for me, too. I'm not sure what it will entail or how different it will be from the roles I have now. So much of my decision to stay home hinged on the vague, "until the kids are in school." Tomorrow marks the beginning of that time. Granted, I've already started opening that door with part time work and I have several years before the little dude is ready for Kindergarten, it's simply strange to think that the past six years have slipped so effortlessly into space.
Tomorrow I will embrace the feelings that I have. I will accept the tears, fill my day with mimosas and conversation at a neighbor's back to school party, and relish the excitement on my big guy's face when he bounds down the steps of that bus in the afternoon.
As much as I want to hang on, this is my moment to let go.
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