Happy New Year! We had a wonderful two-week Christmas break — no homeschooling, slept in, went sledding, attended holiday festivities and parties, ate foods we don’t normally eat, stayed up late, built snowmen, and played endless games. I’m all for spontaneity, adventure, and new things … but there is a time when the routine brings refreshment. This week would be one of those times.
After meals of leftovers, appetizers, and endless munching, today I cooked. Now I didn’t think that was such a major feat, until the aroma floated from the oven to my daughter’s bedroom.
“Mom, what are you cooking?” she said.
“A turkey and wild rice.”
“Really? Right now? It’s in the oven? You promise that’s what’s for dinner?”
As soon as I said ‘yes,’ she squealed in delight just like when she opened her karaoke machine at Christmas. I didn’t realize a home-cooked meal rated up there so high. Then it hit me … we’re back to routine and I’m cooking nightly again.
So as I sit here tonight with my candles lit, my door shut, and my soft instrumental music strumming in the background, I’m renewed, refreshed … and grateful to be back to my evening writing time too.
There sure is something wonderful about routines — especially after a break. Maybe it’s that we go back to our daily life refreshed and what we saw with sunken eyes and dark circles two weeks ago as drudgery or obstacles, today is viewed with fresh insight and smells like a new outlook.
Tonight, I sat trying to think about what magnificent parenting factoid to blog about, but my mind was just … blank. I got nothing.
Ever had one of those days? For me, it’s usually because of what transpired during the day that my brain becomes mush by the end of the day. Things like, the laundry’s final resting place still remains on the furniture, the to-do list grows longer rather than shorter, dinner didn’t get planned … again, and to top it off the dog gallivants in from the backyard … grimy. Not just a little dirty, but with yuck encrusted fur. The sort of grim that only can be removed from severe soaking and scrubbing.
Then add in our homeschooling day, along with the normal everyday events in the life of a teenager daughter, and you’ve got liveliness that gushes like a room full of two-year-olds. Now don’t get me wrong, I love parenting a teenager. It’s a kick and then some. But there are days where the effort it takes to even out the amount of hormones flying around the house consumes all my creative juices.
So tonight … my mind is blank.
On days like today, I kick back and relax. The dog crashes in the kennel, the family sleeps soundly, while I barricade myself in my little relaxation oasis. Candles flicker, warm fuzzy blankets surround me, soothing music plays, and I lie back in my comfy chair and just breathe while I sip tea infused with all sorts of relaxation herbs. It’s my little taste of heaven.
As the stresses and demands of my day begin to melt, my shoulders relax, my muscles loosen, my eye lids get heavy, and a few yawns squeak out. Slowly, I refuel.
We know the journey of a parent is a wild adventure. Some days our tendency is to fight it. But I’ve found it’s best to just embrace life as it comes and kick back to relax after the day is done. After all, tomorrow we start again.
Last Friday night I had plans. Make dinner, hug and kiss hubby and daughter goodbye as they head to a concert, spend the evening writing in quietness. Simple. It wasn’t.
Late in the day, I called tech support to fix my printer thinking it’d be a quick fix. Fifteen minutes passed, then thirty … no dinner made, concert goodbye getting closer, no solution to printer problems.
I handed sticky notes to my family:
“Can you make dinner?”
“Don’t forget earplugs.”
“Almost an hour and STILL no progress!”
“Have fun.”
My family left for the concert. I sat stuck on the phone.
“Will this take very much longer?” I said looking at the clock anxiously bouncing my leg.
Thirty more minutes passed, then sixty. I reminded myself that I could never be a tech support person–I would pull out my hair. A mound of patience is needed for that job! Clearly I don’t have that much patience.
After 2 1/2 hours, my printer printed and I hung up. Starved, I made myself dinner. Once I finally reached my office again, I lit my candles and sat down to write. After a mere ten minutes of my coveted quietness, the phone rang.
“Mom. They don’t take debit cards and that is all Dad has with him.”
“What? You mean the concert is done already?” My mind immediately went to why the artist couldn’t have sang longer.
“I want to buy a T-shirt and CD, but they only take checks or cash.”
“What are you asking me honey?” I said knowing I wouldn’t like the answer.
“Can you bring the checkbook to us? I really, really want her to sign them.”
All I could think of was the 20 minute drive to the concert and the measly 10 minutes I got.
“Mom? Are you there?”
Just breathe slowly … inhale.
“Mom?”
Exhale.
“Yes, I will come down. I’ll leave now.”
Did I just say yes?
As I drove, I argued with myself.
Selfish Me: Nothing went as planned tonight.
Caring Me: Part of being a parent means learning it isn’t about me.
Selfish Me: Yeah, but I needed my writing time. I’m on a deadline!
Caring Me: What about the concerts you went to as a teen. You didn’t get autographs. She has that chance tonight.
Caring Me won. I couldn’t deprive my daughter of an once-in-a-lifetime souvenir. On the ride home, I told her how thrilled I was she got her autograph and picture taken with the artist. I meant it.
The next day, I got my quietness time while my hubby and daughter did grocery shopping errands for me. It’s what being a family is all about–we help each other out!
