If you're anything like me, you're a busy person. My life sometimes seems so overwhelmingly crazy busy that I know I appear to act (and look) like a frazzled mess. I tell myself all the time that I chose this life. And the fact is, when we are not busy, I am seeking activities to do. It's a catch 22, for sure.
The last few weeks I feel like I have barely had time to breathe. Although I somehow managed to binge watch the entire series of Lost on Netflix. (Thanks, Lost, for being so weird and making me miss water cooler talks. Can we just talk about how freaking bizarre, and sort of wonderful, that show was??)
A lot of things go on my back burner and if I don't take care of them immediately, ie. this is not that important, I instantly forget about them.
I can barely remember the last few weeks of busy-ness.
I know that we had a dental surgery for my daughter. An IEP meeting. A trip to St. Louis to see Frozen on Ice, that ironically turned into a blizzard weekend and several white knuckle drives. We had two home visits for parent teacher conferences. We had cello lessons and swim practice. We went to the doctor twice.
Life went on, as it does. The details of my busy-ness are probably only interesting to me, my husband, and my mom. You have your own busy-ness, I know you do. I may not understand it, as you may not understand mine.
I guess what I'm rambling around, trying to say is, I'm still here.
Even when I throw my hands up to the day, the week, the month, the year.
There are moments that make me pause. And see. And feel.
And recognize that this crazy life, the roller coaster that never seems to end, is good.
As a parent, we put ourselves on the back burner for our kids. We do it willingly. It's the unwritten contract you mentally sign when you decide to be a parent.
If this is a marathon, I'm on about mile 10. I recognize that. This is when you're feeling tired. You're questioning why you ever thought you'd be able to do this. But you know that if you walk for a few minutes, you'll be good to go again.
I need my walking days to be good to go again.
When the walking days are few and far between, I'm out of breath, cranky, mad at myself and everyone around me. I can't see the finish.
But always, ALWAYS, I keep moving forward. This marathon isn't for quitters.
And every single day, no matter how out of breath I am, how defeated I may feel, I see glimpses of goodness in this, my little family, that encourage me that I can do this. I have to do this.
Even if it sounds trite.
This is my reason for being.
I open my eyes each day and think, ugh. Today is going to be just like yesterday.
But it's not. Really.
My children grow in their miniscule ways. They learn. They see me. They echo me.
Even if yesterday was a complete fail, I begin again.
I prioritize. I arrange and rearrange schedules. I sign up for clubs and lessons. I make doctor's appointments. I forget to plan something to eat for dinner. I make endless lunches. (Why must they eat so often!?) I talk to teachers. My mind loops on endless ways to improve my children's lives.
I see my husband. Rarely do I really SEE him. I appreciate that he's in these trenches with me right now, probably wondering where in the heck his bride went and who this maniacal schedule freak is. I appreciate that he helps me with this. I try to remember to see him as well. It's hard.
I try to remember that the point of all of this isn't to race to bedtime, but to grow these three wonderful children into three fantastic adults. I try to remember to give them the space to do that.
No one said that parenting would be easy.
I try to remember that I'm not the only one with the insane schedule, throwing themselves into bed each night with a heavy sigh.
There are ebbs and flows to parenting, and when you're in the fast lane, it's hard to slow down. You almost need someone to shake you and say Hey you! Stop this! It doesn't need to be like this.
Someone gets sick and the schedule gets thrown and you start to lose your head and then you see. This is ok too. It's ok if the day doesn't go as planned.
You learn to take the curves and just roll with them. You can improvise like a bad-ass.
You wonder how these are not resume worthy skills.
(Side note, it just took me far too long to even remember the word resume. Seriously.)
You sit down to your hobby (huh, what's that?) and you get so wrapped up in it, the beauty of what you do well and love, that you see a flash of yourself inside there.
And you feel better.
And you take a deep breath and begin running again on mile 11.
Don't worry about the end. It's really not about the end.
You chose this race, so you might as well do it well.