I’ve been passionate about this for years. If we’re friends in real life, chances are you’ve heard me talk about it. Why can’t we all just make a truce or realness? [read more at HowDoesShe.com]
I’ve been passionate about this for years. If we’re friends in real life, chances are you’ve heard me talk about it. Why can’t we all just make a truce or realness? [read more at HowDoesShe.com]
It’s not cool to admit this, but there are things in my life I don’t attempt or I attempt half-heartedly because I’m pretty sure I won’t succeed.
Weight loss is one. Growing my business online is another. Consistently making healthy breakfast for my kids is a big one. We are a cereal family most of the time. Cereal with a side of fruit for a sense of moral/nutritional superiority.
Sometimes I make lists about breakfast, but when 6:15 rolls around each morning, the chances of me following through grow slim.
There are so many things I avoid. Because success in these areas is difficult for me. Because nailing them would be a longshot.
And I’ve been thinking a lot about this for the past several days. Because I’ve found myself ALL-IN promoting a political candidate for public office for the first time. And this is very unlike me.
In the past, I’ve been quick to hide people from my Facebook and Twitter feed for posting too many political posts. I always vote. But privately and with dignity and respect for all the other parties and candidates.
But, if you looked at my social media feeds before October 5th and then after, you’d probably think I’d been hacked by an unemployed 30-year-old man podcasting from his mother’s basement. It is all Evan McMullin all the time around here. I’ve taken my previously-underused Twitter account to new places, hashtagging the crap out of Evan McMullin and retweeting and liking anything that promotes his candidacy. I talk about algorithms and “retweet limits” and twitter strategy with my new online friends. Political nerdery and fanaticism is in full swing over here.
And Evan’s candidacy is a massive Hail-Mary play.
But I. Do. Not. Care. This process is reminding me that it feels good to do hard things, even if success doesn’t seem likely. Because, if we only fight the battles where victory is certain we’ll miss out on the victories that really matter.
And I want to apply this thinking to other areas of my life. I want to dig in and think about what I’m avoiding doing because I think it will be too hard or because I don’t think I can succeed.
Thomas Edison is quoted as saying, “Many of life’s failures are people who did not realize how close they were to success when they gave up.”
So, we won’t be successful unless we’re willing to push through the times where we’ve lost all hope of succeeding. We won’t be successful if we give up. And we have to be willing to do the right thing, even when, especially when, the odds are against us.
I believe that some of the most important undertakings begin not because they are bound to succeed but because someone feels bound to do the right thing.
What “right thing” in your life are you avoiding doing because you don’t think you can succeed? Can you try one more time? Can you stand up and make a change?
Breakfast. Tomorrow morning. Overnight oatmeal in the thermal cooker. Never surrender.
Wanda was doing her homework on Monday which was, and I kid you not, telling her stuffed animals about her classroom job. The school is experimenting with moving toward a “no homework” model by giving them little tasks. These are tasks that in the past would have been undertaken without assignment by any normal human child back in the days before they all became tablet-slurping cyborgs.
So now we get lists of things she can do to act like a kid and communicate with “her stuffed animals” (Translation: parents) about what’s happening in the classroom.
With the tasks, comes a worksheet and on that worksheet is a line to write the student’s name.
Wanda looked at the sheet.
“Oh,” she said, “We’re supposed to put our name at the top.”
I smiled and nodded and kept working on digging through my email.
She held her hand out to me, palm-forward.
“No,” she said in a lofty tone, “I need to do it. It’s my responsibility.”
Ummm…okay. No one’s stopping you. I looked after her as she lifted her shoulders into her best possible posture, tossed her hair, and marched off to get a pencil.
I kept on with my email.
“You see, mom? I have a new trait. It’s called responsibility. We’re studying it at school.”
“That is awesome. Good for you.”
All day, she was focused on her responsibility.
I helped her find her missing shoes.
“Thanks for helping mom. But next time I should probably do it myself because it’s my responsibility.”
Laylee reached for one of Wanda’s dishes after dinner.
“NO!! That’s my responsibility.”
You’d think I had never once or ten THOUSAND times told Wanda to clear her own place at the table. No. This was new news. Her teacher had given her a new trait. For October. And that trait, my fellow Americans, is a little thing we like to call RE-SPON-SI-BILITY!
Maybe if I had a teaching degree I would be qualified to give her traits. Maybe.
The older kids, of course, found this hilarious and sweet. When Laylee taught our Family Night lesson about keeping journals, she made sure to look at Wanda with a grave expression and say, “We need to write in our journals. It’s our… responsibility.”
Wanda perked right up and nodded solemnly. She is now on the journal train.
So I started praising every good thing Wanda did as evidence of how responsible she was. I even noticed Laylee do something good and I called her out.
“Look how responsible Laylee is being! Nice job!”
Wanda looked perplexed.
“Wait,” she said, “Laylee has traits too?!”
Yes. Yes she does. But she’s not in Mrs. Boogaloo’s first grade class! I wonder where she got them!?
This is not a political blog. I don’t promote fiery rhetoric or enjoy causing friction. In fact, I generally prefer to keep my political views private. To me, the votes I cast are deeply personal and I discuss them only with a few close friends and my husband as we research together. I don’t do bumper stickers or lawns signs.
I also don’t tend to douse innocent strangers with buckets of water. However, if I see a person whose hair is on fire, I’ll happily throw some liquid to put her out.
America’s hair is on fire.
So, today on the blog, I’m dumping out my bucket, right here on the blog. I’m telling you who I’m voting for. You may not have heard of him.
I hadn’t heard about Evan McMullin until recently. I’m not a news junkie and I’m so sick at heart about this presidential election that when I see a link to a story about the race, I’ve gotten to the point where I scroll past quickly.
But, in the past week I’ve seen several links from dear friends about Evan McMullin, a new third-party candidate for president. My first thought was, “This is a stunt.” Next, “This is a joke.” And finally, “This guy is just trying to split the conservative vote so Trump can’t win.”
That last thought was mildly interesting because I really desperately don’t want Trump to win, so I followed one of the links.
And I spent an entire day watching video interviews and reading news stories about a man who I now deeply want to be the next president of the United States.
His chances are epically slim. All the better for the made-for-TV movie script after he wins, right? Maybe Sean Astin can play him.
He DOES sound intelligent, thoughtful, fair-minded, well-spoken, and earnest. He sounds kind. He sounds measured and calm but also firm and commanding. He sounds like not a narcissist or a racist. He sounds like someone who deeply wants to unite a divided country.
He is around my age. He’s 40.
He graduated from BYU with a degree in international law and diplomacy, working for the CIA as he completed his undergrad. He was an undercover CIA operative in major world conflict zones for 11 years. He has first-hand experience meeting with and fighting against terrorists and has a strong knowledge of world events, leaders, and people. He is well-versed in the constitution and fiercely devoted to protecting it.
He also received his MBA from The Wharton School at the University of Pennsylvania. He’s worked in business. And most recently, Evan McMullin served as the chief policy director of the House Republican Conference.
He can’t bear to see what’s happening in this presidential election. I know very few people who are excited about either major party candidate. Many are terrified of one or both of them.
I disagree with Hillary Clinton on most issues and I don’t trust her. Donald Trump’s presidency would be an unprecedented disaster for our country. He would embarrass us daily. He is unstable and unfit and I don’t believe our country, as we know it, would be left when he was done with it.
I’m an independent and have voted for people from both major parties over the years but my views are largely conservative. There generally isn’t a perfect candidate for me.
But I think Evan McMullin is that candidate. He sees himself as an American first. Then a conservative. Party loyalty comes after that. I know it sounds like a line but when he says it, I believe him.
For a more detailed view of his stances on issues, watch one of the videos posted below.
He says he waited and waited in this election for someone with national name recognition to join the race, to step up and offer a third option, a viable option. When he reached out to contacts to ask if he could help in any way with an independent candidate running for office, they asked him to run.
He is only officially on the ballot of 11 states and eligible as a write-in in 20+ others and counting. Word is, he will soon be a valid write-in in my state, Washington.
His most realistic path to victory would be to win one or two states in a close election, causing Clinton and Trump to both miss the 270 electoral votes needed to win the presidency. There are 528 total votes. If that were to happen, the decision would go to the House of Representatives.
He believes he could win in a three-way contest with Trump and Clinton because his platform is closely aligned with Paul Ryan and other Republicans in congress.
But he’s a spark of hope in an election that has been a long, dark road for many Americans.
People have asked me how I can vote for someone who has such a low chance of winning. I don’t think that should even be a question. When I vote, I don’t look for who’s most likely to win and then jump on that train. When I vote, I vote for the person who most closely shares my values and who I feel would do the best job.
I live in a blue state. Our electoral votes will most definitely go to Hillary Clinton. They always go to a democrat. So, does that mean I always vote democrat? No. I vote for the person who I believe could best lead our country. Every time.
And I don’t always feel passionate about the candidate I vote for.
Women fought for years for the right to vote. And so many others around the world do not have that option. I will not throw away my gift by voting “against” someone or choosing the “lesser of two evils.”
This November, I am writing in “Evan McMullin” for president. And I’m voting the heck out of my local elections. Because there are good people in Washington State who are stepping up to serve and have a great chance of winning on a local level.
If you’re interested in what Evan McMullin is doing, check out his website and join the movement!
**This blog is a place of love, respect, and encouragement. If you violently disagree and want to flame, feel free to do it somewhere else. I’m happy to have respectful discussion, but I will delete anything inflammatory or hateful.**
Water boils at 212 degrees. So, at 211 it’s just hot water. But at 212 it boils. And boiling water generates steam. Steam can power a locomotive.
That’s a huge difference with just one additional degree.
This is the premise of Sam Parker and Mac Anderson’s motivational book, 212 The Extra Degree: Extraordinary Results Begin with One Small Change. I read an advance copy this summer and it was a great, short read. The whole book is just 88 pages long but it left me feeling inspired and motivated to make a few tiny changes in my life.
Sound at all like Drops of Awesome to you? Me too! I really enjoyed this new analogy, one more way to think about how sometimes it’s just one tiny effort that can make all the difference.
In fact, the book has a similar resonance to 523 Ways to Be Awesome.
I would add, how many times were you too defeated to apply more effort because you didn’t recognize how well you were already doing? Drops of Awesome.
The book contained short success stories and familiar quotes about courage and perseverance. One of my favorite was the famous quote by Thomas Edison, “Many of life’s failures are men who did not realize how close they were to success when they gave up.”
This quote resonates with me because I don’t always exhibit great stick-to-it-iveness and I often find myself wondering, what if I REALLY tried? What would happen then?
I comfort myself in my failures by saying, “If I’d REALLY tried, I could have been awesome at hip-hop dance, or filmmaking, or basket weaving. I just didn’t choose to give it my full effort.”
Sometimes committing fully is scary. What if I try my hardest and fail? Then there would be nothing left to give and I would know my best effort is not enough. That’s not something I want to know all the time.
I have written professionally for the past 10 years and I always told myself, “If I didn’t have kids at home… if I had more time… I would make writing a full-time career and I would be super successful.”
And now the kids are in school and I can still find all kinds of excuses to not go all-out with writing as a business. What they all boil down to is, I’m scared. I’m scared of spending the next few years working around the clock, only to fall on my face.
But reading this little book helped me crystalize something in my mind. I don’t have to worry about failure. I just need to turn up my effort by one tiny drop at a time, by one degree. And never give up. Or, at least if I give up tomorrow, then I need to un-give up the next day.
What are you afraid to commit to? A better relationship with your spouse? A community service goal? A career? Weight loss?
What could you accomplish if you stopped focusing on what-ifs and fears and started just focusing on increasing your effort? One degree.
Disclosure: This post may contain affiliate links. This means, I may receive a small commission if you choose to purchase something from a link I post. Don’t worry, it costs you nothing. Thank you for supporting my website!
We all need air, water, food, shelter… and possibly cheese. But there are a few things you don’t need in your life.
This blog is sometimes stressful for me. I started out telling stories about my kids. I know my kids. I know how to tell stories. It worked. But the kids are getting older and their stories are their own. There are fewer and fewer family stories we are all comfortable with me telling on the internet.
If I was going to keep writing, I needed a new direction. And I love writing. I love connecting with other women online. And that one guy who reads my site. I like connecting with him too. His name is Dan. And he lives in my house. Re: eternal matrimony.
The most shared post I’ve ever written is Drops of Awesome. So I decided to change domains and build a site based on the stories and ideas I shared in that post. I wanted a site that would tell people that they are enough, that all their small acts of good are overwhelmingly important, and that they can change who they are for the better with one tiny choice.
In theory, this sounds like a great idea for a website and I am completely passionate about this topic. However, I’m frequently intimidated by the prospect of sharing advice or ideas with women who I know could teach me so much.
I have to constantly remind myself that I don’t have to be perfect to lift someone else. If I didn’t struggle with feelings of inadequacy or discouragement, I probably couldn’t write so passionately about this topic.
None of us are perfect. And we all need each other. So I keep writing.
What are you passionate about? You can start now to share that passion with others, to teach them what you know.
Don’t wait until you’re perfect to reach out and lift someone else. We need your light and influence in the world.
I procrastinate. A lot. And although sometimes this is due to laziness, it’s more often due to perfectionism. I don’t want to start a project until I have all the materials, know everything about how to do it perfectly, and feel confident I will not fail.
I almost never meet all of those conditions.
And so the crap I bought to put in my 72-hour kits sits in a box in the garage until the diapers and pull-ups hardly even fit my 13-year-old anymore.
Well, last week I decided to believe my mantra – You don’t need to know everything to do something. I put away all the lists and plans and books about making 72-hour kits. I stopped by the grocery store for some food items and then just got out everything I had and threw it in backpacks.
It took two hours.
To complete a project I’d been procrastinating for 10 years.
Is it perfect? Nope. But it’s a lot better than what I’ve had for the past decade. Is there something you’ve been dying to do but you’re waiting to know everything and be perfect? Stuff that thinking in a dark hole somewhere and just get her done.
I feel better when I serve someone, when I make a difference in someone’s life. But I don’t have time to start a charitable foundation today or even hand out food to the homeless.
Sometimes I need to remember that although I may not have time or capacity to make a difference with a thousand strangers, I can always make a difference to an individual.
Have you ever smiled at a child you don’t know in the elementary school office and seen her face light up? How about letting someone ahead of you in traffic? That might not save a life but it might restore the other driver’s faith in human kindness just a bit.
If you don’t have time to make a quilt for your niece’s birthday, send her a card. If you don’t have time to address and mail a card, text her or call her while you’re grocery shopping.
We are all busy. But some of the things that have made the biggest difference to me took almost no time at all. A text message telling me my friend was thinking about me all the way in Portland. An encouraging smile and nod from a neighbor who sat on the front row of my book talk and signing last weekend. Office staff who greet me warmly whenever I stop by the elementary school.
We can all do more of this junk. And it will feel amazing.
On days when I exercise, I’m much less likely to snarf a huge bowl of Mac and Cheese for lunch. On those big workout days, I tend to eat more veggies, lean meats and whole grains.
It’s not because I think, If got up at Stupid o’clock in the morning to burn 800 calories on a spin bike, I’m not going to eat back that entire amount in cheesy carbs!
It’s generally because I feel awesome about working out and I want to keep that high going. It’s about momentum and it’s about tasting victory.
One good choice in my life almost always leads to another good choice because doing good feels… what’s a good word to use here? AWESOME!
If I wake up and train like an athlete, then I feel all athlety and fierce and it’s only natural that I’ll want to fuel my athletic body with the right kind of fuel.
Choosing to be athletic makes me feel like an athlete. And when I feel like an athlete, I act like an athlete.
The same goes for my parenting. If I make a conscious effort to reach out to one of my kids and ask about his day, then I’m a nicer mom in our next interaction. I feel closer to him. We understand each other better.
Choosing to be nice makes me feel like a nice mom. And when I feel like a nice mom, I act like a nice mom.
So what do you want to be like today? Do one thing that a person like that would do. Savor how it feels and let that momentum carry you away on a pillowy cloud of Awesome.
Take one step forward. Do something good today.
A few weeks ago I took Wanda and Magoo into the next town over to get some new tires put on the Swagger Wagon. The next town over is awesome. It has a Wal Mart and a movie theatre and a state prison. It has a cute downtown main street district, almost like our town, but with more snazzy jammie retailers, tattoo parlors, smoke shops and places that will pay you cash for gold.
We chose a mom and pop tire shop over the big retailers because we like to support local business and they were much cuter on the phone AND equipped to do both the tire install and the alignment in one visit. Their prices were almost competitive. And they said they could get it done in a little over 2 hours.
So we dropped off the car at 11am and they told me it might take a biiiit longer than they had originally thought. That’s cool, I thought. We’ll walk over the train tracks, along the busy highway, and past several strip malls to the movie theatre and catch a show.
Although the next town over has a dollar store, it does not have Uber. Weird, right?
The walk to the theatre was a little over a mile, my longest distance since the surgery. Woot. And we had a great lunch of nachos, popcorn, and slushies while we watched The Secret Life of Pets. Good. Not great. The kids loved it.
We stopped by the grocery store to pick up a few things, walked past a couple of loudly screaming teens with expletives on their t-shirts, enjoyed the sun, and carried our groceries the mile back to the tire store, by way of a couple of very cool little vintage shops.
Altogether, kind of an awesome day, a bit weird, but awesome. However, it had been three hours and I had super ripe peaches at home waiting to be canned. It was time to get this show on the road.
But the car wasn’t done.
So we stalled at a used book store and bought a few things. They were serving Slytherin Iced Tea in honor of the new Harry Potter Play. Nice people. And when I said we were waiting for our tires to get done, the bookstore owner looked at me appraisingly and said, “The Big Chain Store or Mom and Pop.”
He approved of my choice.
But the tires still weren’t done.
So, to round out our Next Town Over-ish day, we stopped at 7-11 for boxed hot dogs and microwaved burritos. The hot dog box said, “100% Delicious” and Dan later asked Wanda if those words were true.
“Not really,” she said, “Maybe 99%?”
But the kids were 100% awesome. Because we spent the next couple of hours in the shop waiting room. It smelled like a mechanic shop and flies were buzzing everywhere. And the seats were old and dirty.
But Magoo could not get over how comfortable they were. And Wanda happily did magic tricks to herself with an old deck of cards while I read my book.
At one point the mechanic invited me back to show my why he was having trouble getting the alignment right and asking if he could put some after-market parts on the car to help it out a bit. He was kind. And he explained things well. And everyone in the shop treated us like we were family.
When it was time to go, about 6 hours after we’d originally dropped off the car, the elderly owner of the shop pulled my kids aside and lovingly told them how special they were.
“And do you know how you get special kids?” he asked.
They smiled sheepishly and shrugged.
“With very special parents.”
He gave me a warm smile and handed each of the kids an intricately detailed die cast car. They were thrilled. And they are special kids. It’s strange to say, but it was one of the best days I’ve had in a while. Just hangin’ out in a Podunk downtown, eating at the Sev with my peeps.
And the lateness of the hour saved me from having to can peaches in the heat of the day. It was not hot at midnight as I finished up the last batch.
As we left tire shop, my special son informed me that my special daughter had put stuffed her special trash into one of the towers of tires. So I got to stand on a chair and do a handstand inside the tires to fish it out.
A bit tiresome. But special, nonetheless.
Disclosure: This post may contain affiliate links. This means, I may receive a small commission if you choose to purchase something from a link I post. Don’t worry, it costs you nothing but it helps keep the Awesome flowing. Thanks!
Every day in little ways we each tell the stories of our lives. We tell them to others. Sometimes we write them down. Mostly, we repeatedly tell them to ourselves.
And how we tell them makes a HUGE difference in how we see ourselves.
We decide which stories get told over and over again. The more we tell them, the more important they become in the canon of who we are.
We decide how we tell them. The tone of our stories becomes the tone and direction of our lives.
So many amazing things have happened in my life. There have been incredibly hard things too. Which stories do I focus on? Which stories receive my time and attention?
Do you know one of those people who is always ready with a tale of disaster and heartache?
“How was your day?” you ask.
She rolls her eyes and settles into a long and tragic story about how it’s been the worst day of her life and everything that could go wrong has gone wrong. She does this every time you speak to her.
I know other people who always seem in a great mood. When I ask them what they’ve been up to, they usually tell me about some success or joyful experience. They are genuinely happy and, in contrast to the first type of person, it seems that their lives are overflowing with Awesome.
Is the second friend just luckier than the first friend? Does she just live a charmed life? I don’t think so. I know we all have a broad range of experiences and some weeks are harder than others. Some lives are harder than others. But in many cases, our lives are as happy as we decide they will be.
When we choose to spend the majority of our time telling uplifting stories or simply finding the uplift in our difficult stories, we and everyone around us will be inspired.
When I look back at my experiences with postpartum anxiety and depression, I can see myself as a victim, or a loser, or a hero who overcame something awful and used the experience to make positive changes in my life.
My view of this has changed over the years. Today I choose to think of myself as going through something earth-shattering and then being miraculously preserved so I could emerge stronger and kinder than I was before.
If that’s my story, then it informs everything I do. I’m on a hero’s journey. If I see myself as a victim, that will inform everything I do as well.
I internalize that story. I tell it. I refine it. I become it.
If your life is a Bucket, you decide what you will fill it with. I’m aiming to have a Bucket of Awesome.
Over the coming weeks and months, I want us to do an experiment together. On Saturdays I will post a journal prompt. As we work through these prompts, we will choose what stories to tell and how to tell them.
We can change our lives by how we tell our stories. Journal along with me as I excavate my past for the joy, the goodness, the Awesome. When we’re done, we’ll have a whole Bucket of Awesome, a story to inspire the people we love, and a brighter perspective of who we really are.
Will you fill your Bucket of Awesome with me?
After 13 years of parenting little people, I no longer have a lunch buddy, a grocery buddy, or a pound on the door while I go to the bathroom buddy. For 6 hours. Every. Single. Weekday.
Starting this week, my kids are all in school fulltime.
I’ve had wild emotional mood swings about this.
Last year when I chose to only put Wanda in half-day kindergarten, it had a little to do with money, but mostly it was about – I wasn’t ready yet. She was ready. SO SO ready. But I couldn’t bear to let go of my last little friend for that many hours each day.
I knew I’d miss her, miss my role as a fulltime stay-at-home mom.
Motherhood is my favorite thing. Gratitude is not a strong enough word to describe how I feel about being a mom.
But it is brutal sometimes. And it is not cessant. Even a little bit.
Halfway through the school year last year, I started to get excited. Wanda was overripe for full day school at that point and I found myself daydreaming about all the things I’d accomplish when I had more uninterrupted time.
I could write a novel worth publishing. I could go back to school and become a doctor or an astronaut. I could even find out what it feels like to finish a thought before being interrupted.
I’ve been a casual on-again/off-again writer and blogger for ten years, periodically taking on too much freelance work. Then I would scale way back when I realized I was incapable of being a great working mom of young kids.
My blog has gone through periods of large readership, but things are quiet around here these days. I just haven’t had the time and focus to give it.
As I contemplated my new free time and all the ways I could fill it, I started to get really excited. I was ready. I could do this. I was simply moving into a new chapter of my life and I might love it.
And there was a box by Wanda’s name.
For lunch money.
I was overcome with sadness. It was sadness that she would be eating lunch with someone other than me. Sadness that a hugely important phase of my life was ending. My identity for the past 13 years was gone. I grieved.
So I didn’t know what to expect this week as the kids headed off to school.
Would I be sad? Would I be lonely? Would I be bored?
I doubted I’d be bored. I’d spent the entire summer (whenever I wasn’t having emergency surgery) making a business plan for all the writing and marketing I was going to do this year. But maybe I’d be depressed or lacking in motivation to follow through. That scared me.
The morning of the first day of school, Wanda was eating breakfast while I read. She called my name.
I looked up to see a concerned expression on her face.
“What’s wrong, Wanda?”
She eyed me with pity.
“When I leave for school today, the only one you’ll have to talk to is Cortana.”
(We’re a Windows Phone family. Cortana is my personal digital assistant. Like Siri’s big sister.)
To her, that was a horrible prospect. Me, sitting alone at a table, my head in my hands, repeatedly saying, “Cortona, tell me a joke.”
I walked her to school. I had a nice walk home. I showered in silence.
Then I got in the car to run an errand and this feeling welled up inside my chest, a feeling I hadn’t been expecting.
I can do this. In my worry and sadness about turning in my full time stay-at-home mom badge, it hadn’t occurred to me that I would be getting another badge back. KATHRYN. I was overcome with this feeling of reclaiming a part of myself that I willingly surrendered many years ago.
I am autonomous.
I am free.
I am simply Kathryn for six whole hours each day.
And I love it.
I have gotten so much done in the past three days. I can’t even believe it.
Lately I’ve been talking to my doctor about the possibility that I might have ADD. My thoughts have been so scattered and I’ve had such a hard time finishing tasks and following through.
My kids just started school fulltime and I realized – maybe I don’t have ADD. Maybe I just have children.
I think my explosion of productivity can be explained this way – In the past, when I’ve had an hour to work on a blog post, what I’ve really had is:
5 minutes to work on a blog post
6 minutes to have my hair styled like a princess
3 minutes to work on a blog post
5 minutes to notice the pirate booty on the floor and pick it up before it got ground into the carpet
10 minutes to work on a blog post
15 minutes to kiss the invisible owie and find the band-aids because IT JUST FEELS LIKE BLOOOOD
3 minutes to work on a blog post
And then 13 minutes to figure out how the Octonauts were possibly going to rescue the Humuhumunukunukuapua’a
Now, when I have an hour to work on a blog post, I have AN HOUR TO WORK ON A BLOG POST.
And I miss my kids. But that just makes it more fun to see when they get home each afternoon. Missing them is not the worst thing in the world. I’m genuinely delighted to see them when they come home.
Enjoying this phase of life doesn’t take away from how much I adored being home and raising my kids full time. Some of my most precious memories were made during those times and I wouldn’t trade them for anything.
Today as I drove home from volunteering at the school, I saw a mother with her toddler, standing by the construction site. They were holding hands and engrossed in the digger truck action. I felt a twinge in my chest and thought, “I don’t do that anymore.”
But I like this time too. I’m coming to believe that there are seasons enough in our lives for all the good things we want to do. We just need to look for the beauty in the one we’re in and be present so we can make the most of it.