It used to take my mom forever to get things done. I could run to the grocery store for the five items on my list and be out in less than ten minutes, whereas she would be gone over an hour and come home with 30 things. I now know why there was a difference between us. She was the one with kids.
I see myself becoming unfocused, inefficient. I see it happening. It's the multi-tasking, the fragmenting of things. And here's why it happens:
I am so used to being interrupted, that I have ceased to work quickly, efficiently, with formulaic intent. It's not worth the effort. If I am folding laundry and the boys are entertained with something (let's get real: it's TV), then I will take some minutes and pour myself a glass of tea. Fold some towels. Enjoy the fact that no one is talking to me. And then "just take a peak" at Pinterest for, say, fourteen minutes. And then it has taken me thirty minutes to fold the laundry, where it should take ten. If I go to the grocery store by myself (or, God bless it! Target!) you can bet that I am lingering, walking around the clothes, just to see what they have. Checking out the sales on baby accessories, even though I have no need. Walking by the donut case just to smell them. Walking slowly with the cart, treating myself to a diet coke at the register, looking through Redbox. I'm slow now. And it's because of those kids! :)
Those minutes that I take are like mini escapes. Except that they're really not. They're pressured and urgent and filled with the anxiety of having to get back to my real life in a matter of whenever-somebody-decides-they-need-me. It makes it hard to accomplish my never-ending list of chores and also hard to relax at the end. And it makes me short-tempered with the "interruptions" that come my way. I don't like it one bit.
Tonight I decided to do the dishes with no breaks. To focus on my task and complete it. I got out ALL those dishes from today's homemade bread and soup and breakfast and lunch and snacks and "hot tea time" (our new ritual). And by the time I had the soapy water run, and the silverware soaking. Ash runs in, naked. "Mom, I went into the bathroom and I peed in my underwear and in my pants. Oh, and on the carpet." I take some deep breaths. I am angry. There is no need for this. I force myself to respond with grace. Does that count? "Why did you pee in your underwear if you were in the bathroom?" "Well, I tried to pee in the potty, but then I couldn't do it." "You couldn't make it in time? No? Okay, come help me clean it up."
Come into the living room and Zimrie's standing on the end table, jumping onto the couch. Another no-no. Ash runs back in naked. "Go get a pull-up." He comes back with underwear, throws them at me. I weigh the decision--should I make him go back and get a pull-up? Make him follow my instructions? Nah. Not worth the battle. I can wash another pair of underwear, it's easier.
"Put them on, Ash." "No, Mom! You do it!" Fight that battle until he finally puts them on perfectly.
Back to my dishes. I feel like I need a break. I start to think, what break is it that I'm waiting for? For Seth to get home? For the kids to be in bed? For Seth to be on vacation? For there to be no more dishes and no more laundry? Ha. What will make me happy? For me to sleep uninterrupted and wake up feeling rested? Ha. Ha ha.
For a family trip away? For us to be under budget for groceries one month? For prices to go down and the boys' appetites to stop going up? For all the books to be read? For the Christmas presents to all be bought and crafted with love and without mistake? For me to be able to run three miles without pain? Five miles? For my body to finally reach my image of perfection? It's just silly.
You may have heard that ancient wisdom Ann Voskamp put into good words: "Everyone decides how happy they want to be because everyone decides how grateful they want to be."
It's so true. Some days I just don't know how to be okay with all the dishes in the sink, the laundry in the basket, the dog hair on the floor, the pain in my leg, the too-snug jeans. Some days I don't know how to want to go sit with my boy who talks nonstop and watch him play in his fort with his blankets and pillows and do nothing I can mark off a checklist.
Some days I sit and make myself play for ten minutes. It is hard.
But if you asked me what I would change about my life, I don't know that I would have an answer. My grandfather always tells me that if everyone wrote out all their problems on a piece of paper and the papers were taken and laid out on a table and you could go to the table and pick out any one of the lists on that table, that almost everyone would walk out with the list they wrote.
I think he's right. I know the opposite of worry is gratitude.
I don't know that there's anything I would change about my life. But there's things I want to change about me.
Yesterday I went outside after the kids went down and watched the pink light fall across my backyard. I tried to meditate. My mind rambled. I recalled parts of Psalm 103 and I think I half-prayed the Lord's prayer and then I sang some Taylor Swift and then I thought someone might hear me so I hummed it instead. And then I thought on compassion for a while. And then I came in to do the dishes.
My prayer life might seem like a joke. But I'm kind of over that. It is what it is. Even if it's funny. :)
And I really believe that happiness stems from gratitude. I really do.
So today, I am thankful that I ran almost two miles, that my body is able. I'm thankful for drinking hot tea with my boys and reading books to them. I'm thankful for Ed. He puts up with a lot of intense hugs from the boys. I'm thankful for homemade broccoli cheese soup and homemade bread. I'm thankful for new mercies from my husband. I'm thankful I got to see a friend's beautiful wedding last weekend. I'm grateful to have plans with people I love. And I'm so thankful that my boys are still young. I love watching them grow. I put their mattresses on the floor tonight and let them sleep side-by-side with fifty-seven blankets and a hundred stuffed animals, cozy and warm with the thunderstorm outside. I'm grateful for our house that we have tried to make a home for the last three years. Winter is coming, and these tile floors will be like ice. But they're so easy to clean. I'm grateful for that with young kids and a dog and a broken vacuum.
I see myself becoming unfocused, inefficient. I see it happening. It's the multi-tasking, the fragmenting of things. And here's why it happens:
I am so used to being interrupted, that I have ceased to work quickly, efficiently, with formulaic intent. It's not worth the effort. If I am folding laundry and the boys are entertained with something (let's get real: it's TV), then I will take some minutes and pour myself a glass of tea. Fold some towels. Enjoy the fact that no one is talking to me. And then "just take a peak" at Pinterest for, say, fourteen minutes. And then it has taken me thirty minutes to fold the laundry, where it should take ten. If I go to the grocery store by myself (or, God bless it! Target!) you can bet that I am lingering, walking around the clothes, just to see what they have. Checking out the sales on baby accessories, even though I have no need. Walking by the donut case just to smell them. Walking slowly with the cart, treating myself to a diet coke at the register, looking through Redbox. I'm slow now. And it's because of those kids! :)
Those minutes that I take are like mini escapes. Except that they're really not. They're pressured and urgent and filled with the anxiety of having to get back to my real life in a matter of whenever-somebody-decides-they-need-me. It makes it hard to accomplish my never-ending list of chores and also hard to relax at the end. And it makes me short-tempered with the "interruptions" that come my way. I don't like it one bit.
Tonight I decided to do the dishes with no breaks. To focus on my task and complete it. I got out ALL those dishes from today's homemade bread and soup and breakfast and lunch and snacks and "hot tea time" (our new ritual). And by the time I had the soapy water run, and the silverware soaking. Ash runs in, naked. "Mom, I went into the bathroom and I peed in my underwear and in my pants. Oh, and on the carpet." I take some deep breaths. I am angry. There is no need for this. I force myself to respond with grace. Does that count? "Why did you pee in your underwear if you were in the bathroom?" "Well, I tried to pee in the potty, but then I couldn't do it." "You couldn't make it in time? No? Okay, come help me clean it up."
Come into the living room and Zimrie's standing on the end table, jumping onto the couch. Another no-no. Ash runs back in naked. "Go get a pull-up." He comes back with underwear, throws them at me. I weigh the decision--should I make him go back and get a pull-up? Make him follow my instructions? Nah. Not worth the battle. I can wash another pair of underwear, it's easier.
"Put them on, Ash." "No, Mom! You do it!" Fight that battle until he finally puts them on perfectly.
Back to my dishes. I feel like I need a break. I start to think, what break is it that I'm waiting for? For Seth to get home? For the kids to be in bed? For Seth to be on vacation? For there to be no more dishes and no more laundry? Ha. What will make me happy? For me to sleep uninterrupted and wake up feeling rested? Ha. Ha ha.
For a family trip away? For us to be under budget for groceries one month? For prices to go down and the boys' appetites to stop going up? For all the books to be read? For the Christmas presents to all be bought and crafted with love and without mistake? For me to be able to run three miles without pain? Five miles? For my body to finally reach my image of perfection? It's just silly.
You may have heard that ancient wisdom Ann Voskamp put into good words: "Everyone decides how happy they want to be because everyone decides how grateful they want to be."
It's so true. Some days I just don't know how to be okay with all the dishes in the sink, the laundry in the basket, the dog hair on the floor, the pain in my leg, the too-snug jeans. Some days I don't know how to want to go sit with my boy who talks nonstop and watch him play in his fort with his blankets and pillows and do nothing I can mark off a checklist.
Some days I sit and make myself play for ten minutes. It is hard.
But if you asked me what I would change about my life, I don't know that I would have an answer. My grandfather always tells me that if everyone wrote out all their problems on a piece of paper and the papers were taken and laid out on a table and you could go to the table and pick out any one of the lists on that table, that almost everyone would walk out with the list they wrote.
I think he's right. I know the opposite of worry is gratitude.
I don't know that there's anything I would change about my life. But there's things I want to change about me.
Yesterday I went outside after the kids went down and watched the pink light fall across my backyard. I tried to meditate. My mind rambled. I recalled parts of Psalm 103 and I think I half-prayed the Lord's prayer and then I sang some Taylor Swift and then I thought someone might hear me so I hummed it instead. And then I thought on compassion for a while. And then I came in to do the dishes.
My prayer life might seem like a joke. But I'm kind of over that. It is what it is. Even if it's funny. :)
And I really believe that happiness stems from gratitude. I really do.
So today, I am thankful that I ran almost two miles, that my body is able. I'm thankful for drinking hot tea with my boys and reading books to them. I'm thankful for Ed. He puts up with a lot of intense hugs from the boys. I'm thankful for homemade broccoli cheese soup and homemade bread. I'm thankful for new mercies from my husband. I'm thankful I got to see a friend's beautiful wedding last weekend. I'm grateful to have plans with people I love. And I'm so thankful that my boys are still young. I love watching them grow. I put their mattresses on the floor tonight and let them sleep side-by-side with fifty-seven blankets and a hundred stuffed animals, cozy and warm with the thunderstorm outside. I'm grateful for our house that we have tried to make a home for the last three years. Winter is coming, and these tile floors will be like ice. But they're so easy to clean. I'm grateful for that with young kids and a dog and a broken vacuum.
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