Years ago I was thinking about small, subtle ways I could tweak my days to inspire bigger, more tangible changes overall. Proclamations and resolutions have never worked for me and as any parent will tell you, it's the tiny, repetitive, seemingly insignificant tasks you do each day that slowly weave the tapestry of a life. My solution was to come up with a list of things to do each day that would leave me feeling accomplished and fulfilled. Each night I'd lie in bed and look over that list, saved in the notes app on my phone, to see how I'd measured up. Some days were better than others and I worked hard not to berate myself over the items left unchecked. Had I found time to connect individually with each person in our family? Created something? Written something by hand, read something, petted the dogs, gone for a walk? Connected with a friend? Looked at something beautiful? The more boxes I ticked, the more my overall sense of wellness and contentment increased. Sure I had bigger aspirations and goals for myself but in this season of life, with young children underfoot, the expectations have to match the reality. Was I willing to sacrifice a considerable number of items on that list to achieve larger success in my career? Not likely. So I made peace with this slowed-down, less accomplishment oriented life the best I could and let that list serve as my guiding star.
Since those days I've thought an awful lot about what I, as a person, am putting out into the world, both energetically as well as tangibly. I see women who make their home's appearance or their children their life's work. I admire those who do it gracefully but I also have the self awareness to know that I'm not there. I need something beyond these walls and these little babes that I feed, bathe, console, nurse, tickle, cuddle and holler at each day. I know I need this because I stopped working outside the home with the birth of our third baby just over a year ago and I still cringe, still feel a little heartsick when someone asks me, "So, what do you do? Do you work?" It's not because I feel like this "work" I do each day is less than, or inferior in any way, it's just that I've realized that a large portion of my self identity was always tied to my professional life. And I miss that part of myself.
Working through this question of how much we allow one relationship, with any one or any thing, to define our existence, along with my humble daily check list inspired me to think of myself as the sum of nine parts, with the knowledge that the sum of those parts creates a bigger, happier, more fulfilled whole being. In doing so I feel less obliged to compare myself to others, to lobby huge demands on my days and avoid things that won't bring fulfillment and joy.
...as a mother: Have I connected with each of my three boys in a way that felt meaningful and genuine each day? This means giving my full attention, listening intently, not letting the frustration at this one's suddenly missing shoe distract me from doling out math questions to the other. Basically, did each of my boys feel, even for a few moments of the day, that they were an only child? I'm always working hard at bringing patience and empathy to our interactions and even when I feel like an absolute flop at this I can go to sleep knowing that we had an exchange that made both of us feel connected.
...as a wife: My original tick list had me getting my husband to laugh each day. With me, at me, it really made no difference. We are our best and most connected when we can find the hilarity, the absurdity, in something...anything. However we change and grow, humor will likely always be our meeting place. Even though date nights feel a ways away, we make an effort more and more to find time to be together with no pressure, no expectations, just appreciation and relaxation.
...as a friend: One of the many things no one tells you when you have young children is that you will suddenly be overrun by acquaintances. From school, sports, dance, art classes, neighbors, etc . If you allow it to, the small talk involved in your day could, in all seriousness, render you comatose. I'm grateful for the friends my children have chosen, that I enjoy the company of those childrens' families and that my own kids immediately run off like a pack when we gather with dear friends of our own. Over the last months I have made an effort to change my demeanor at kid-related things to friendly and polite rather than open and inviting. Does this sound cold? Maybe. But when I long to spend an evening with a friend I haven't seen in months to engage in deep, honest, inappropriate, meaningful conversation I just can't bring myself to waste those precious minutes of adult time having the same scripted chat about: the weather, this or that school function, plans for the holidays, the annoyance of the car line/the teenage referee/the unpredictability of the weather more than five times a day. The older we get, the quicker we know if we connect and resonate with a new person. I've put those extra minutes towards the friendships, old and new, that bring me the greatest happiness, the most laughter and send me home feeling inspired and revitalized. I try my hardest to bring positive energy and kindness to my other casual encounters and take comfort knowing that this is really my only obligation. An unintended bonus of having all boys is the renewed appreciation I have for my girl friends and when I think of all the reasons the universe handed down so much testosterone I know this is one; to nudge me to create my own band of sisters.
...as a creator: There is something within each of us that longs to make something, to put something out into the world, even if the world we're willing to expose that gift to consists of our home. Whether it's beautiful food, hand made dog collars sold on etsy or ships in a bottle, we all have it. These hands were made for working. Even on the darkest, most depressing days when I cannot control the ugliness in the world I can make a beautiful meal (or snack) for my family and light a candle. I can knit a few crooked rows of my latest project while zoning out in front of the tv, a pile of laundry heaped beside me, radiating heat from it's sixth - make that seventh - spin in the dryer. Photography, knitting, food, writing, drawing, painting, these are the things that settle me, that wind me down at the end of the day and light a spark for the day ahead.
...as a learner: I have a lot of hang-ups about education. My own, to be specific. As someone who is technically considered a high school drop out I've had to overcome a lot of icky feelings about my own experiences as an adult college student and someone who dreams of finishing a degree, any degree at this point, before the youngest leaves the nest. I know I'll do it because I know I need to do it. Because I should be embarrassed by the number of used textbooks I've scored on Amazon to read and reference just for fun, but I'm not. I can close my eyes and sense the regret I'll have as an arthritic old lady when I list off my accomplishments then wither at the realization that I never got that degree. Rather than feel shamed by my lack of paper ware I choose to throw myself into learning in the bigger sense, channeling the mantra, "Read the manual" whenever I approach something new. This does not come easy to me but I know the satisfaction I feel from diving into a task, learning more, watching tutorials, taking classes, pestering someone for help. The goal being, for me, to have fewer tools but be the master of them all. Even when it means holding up that one perfectly poached egg in triumph and ignoring the 2 cartons of shells scattered across the counter. At this point in life the opportunity to immerse myself fully in any subject, any topic, is something to treasure and I try to treat it accordingly.
...as an adventurer: It took me many, many years to realize that generally speaking, I don't like traveling with a group. I didn't realize this until I started taking on trips with young children and realized how enjoyable I suddenly found it. This made me think back on so many miserable group excursions I subjected myself to. I felt like I was dragged out when I wanted to be in, tied down to someone else's agenda when I wanted to be doing something spontaneous. I suppose it's counterintuitive and yes, being in a car or on a plane with a disgruntled kid can be the stuff of nightmares but overall I come away from our trips with the thought of, "when can we do that again??" There are so many places I want to visit and experience that doing it without them feels like something lesser, like a wasted chance - for all of us. This being said, getting out and doing is something I have to push myself on continually. I'll gripe and moan and look for excuses all the way out the door but once I'm in, I'm in. Whether it's a hike 10 minutes from our house or planning an extended road trip it doesn't really matter. I know I'm happiest when I'm out seeing and doing, knowing that our cozy little house is waiting for us at the end.
...as a mover: Being physically active has never been the top of my list of priorities but I think that most of us get to a certain point where we realize that it's not really optional. If you want to feel a certain way, look a certain way then your actions have to reflect it. Much like flossing, I've accepted movement and exercise as a simple fact of being the steward of a human body. I try so many things but I come back again and again to walking and yoga with some weight training thrown in. I'm not consistent with all three but I'm always working towards it. Every night I open the monthly planner I buy each year, give myself a little smiley face written in pencil then jot down the physical things I did that day. If I did nothing then I consider that my 'off' day for the week and move on.
...as a nurturer: This is hard to admit, but I'm not usually the best pet-haver. We have two rescue dogs and a lion head bunny all residing in our home. I wish I could say that I'm one of those people who says our animals are family and means it in the way of, "equal-to-humans" but I'm not. And when I really stop to think about it, I actually don't mind that I'm not that person. YES I love our pets, YES they are a factor in our decisions (vacations, time away during the day, etc). They are walked each day without exception and thanks to our baby's obsession with Cosmo, the bunny, he is the most well fed and doted-on rabbit I know. But when I created my original list of things to boost my happiness quotient years ago I made it a point to include our animals. Why? Because I knew I sucked at this. And so, each day, even when I absolutely do not feel like it, when they have annoyed me and pestered me and made a mess of the house and begged for food relentlessly, I force myself to give some love to the dogs. Even if it's just a belly rub with my food while I eat a taco over the sink, I make myself do it. And as much as I hate to admit it, all the research is true - loving on animals does something to us. I'm reminded that these sweet animals are nearly completely dependent on us, that the same sense of stewardship and love I feel for wild animals can be deployed right here at home. And so, I talk nicely to them. I teach the baby to give them treats and gently stroke their ears. I give them a big old smoochie kiss each morning and try to act nonchalant about how much loving them and having them around makes me so, so grateful. Nurturing these pets reminds me of my deep connection to the world around me, my responsibility to all living things and the power I have to send this love and tenderness into the world each day.
...as a communicator: If there is one thing I see all around me each day that bugs the hell out of me and instantly brings me down (more than people substituting a 'z' for an 's' as a marketing tool) it's poor communication. It's being upset or annoyed or bothered by someone or something and saying nothing. Doing nothing. There is so precious little time allotted to us and the thought of having a pea under my mattress, or my kids going to bed with something weighing so, so heavy on their hearts seems awful. Maybe it's a byproduct of growing up in a tricky house where no one had the tools or the wherewithal to speak about such things or maybe it's seeing the demise of one too many valued friendships but I cannot put enough value on the ability to have a feeling, sit with it for a bit if I need to, then either let it go or address it directly. It's hard. Hard conversations are called that for a reason. A couple seasons ago my son's feelings were incredibly hurt by his soccer coach, who lost his shit during a game and started screaming at the kids on the field, my son included. He also made some really unsportsmanlike comments about the other team in front of the kids. Not okay. Afterwards we sat down with our son, then 8 and talked it over. We agreed that we, as grown-ups, would talk to the coach about a couple of the issues but asked if he felt that he could tell his coach, face to face, how being yelled at like that made him feel. He was horrified. We then explained what a coach's job is, that the words and voice of an adult are no more powerful or important than a child's, that if he, at age 8, could tell someone when something upset him how relieved he would feel and how much more equipped for life he would be. He nervously agreed and the conversation went really well. The coach still ended up being an over competitive lunatic but Flynn was able to leave that season knowing that he had spoken up. And so that's kind of our rule; if someone/something seems funky, ask about it. If someone is giving you the silent treatment or acting like things aren't cool, bring it up and attempt to clear the air. And even if they can't or won't have that talk with you, you've tried. And a friend who cannot tell you when you've hurt them so you can discuss and hopefully move on is probably not someone who is meant to be around for the long haul. And the whole point of this, of all of this, is knowing where to use your energy. Of letting the things that don't serve your best interests, that don't contribute to the collective, fall away.
