Right Now
After a stressful week, and a few misunderstandings that led to unnecessary tension between us, I wrote my husband a note to tell him how much I appreciate him, and hid it in his office.
I'm thinking about new ways to work exercise into my day.
The book I finished most recently is called Born to Run. I have always hated to run and I'm working on my attitude.
I'm already practicing a modified news blackout because I would rather pick headlines on topics that I want to know more about than sit through negative story after negative story on TV.
And I'm realizing that my life is too cluttered, physically and figuratively. Room by room, I'm de-cluttering our home, and I'm de-cluttering the noise pollution that is distraction from the people who are most important to me. We now have a phone-free zone at dinner. We put away all the gadgets during family time on the weekends, and Saturday nights are laptop-free date night time. I'm trying to learn to say no and not sign up for every activity and every event that catches my eye.
My job is a commitment I must keep from Monday through Friday, and I count the minutes until I can be with my son. At the end of my workday, I shut down my laptop, put away my phone, take a deep breath, shake away the tension, and transition to play time. After he goes to bed at night, I can focus on writing, reading, and pushing away the things that don't enrich my life and embracing the activities that do. Sometimes, that means relaxing with The Voice or a good football or baseball game, snuggled up with my husband on the couch. Sometimes, that means getting out for a girls night out with some of my mama friends in Austin. Sometimes, it's date night out on the town with my husband.
There is room for frustration, but not prolonged negativity. There is room for indulging, but not for gluttony. There is room for education, but not sensationalism. There is room for dawdling. There is room for stopping to inhale the baby smells. There is room for patience and love and for being late, if it means that we wait for my son as he insists on buckling his seat belt himself with his little hands.
Shutting out unnecessary stressors - unwelcome tenants in my brain and in my life - opens the door to joy, and clarity, and contentment. I strive to forge and traverse a clean, smooth, flower-lined street each day, and sometimes the task requires a feather, and sometimes a machete. Arming myself with the tools I need to keep the clutter at bay means taking a look at what I really need and what is holding me back, like emotional kudzu choking everything in its path.
I have so much motivation:
...I don't think I can possibly kiss my son's chubby toddler cheeks enough before he asks me to stop doing it at some point. He already sometimes pushes me away with his feather-soft, baby hands.
...there is never enough time to look at my son and memorize every millimeter of his face before it changes; every second of every day it changes.
...the baby smell of his hair is still present, and I breathe it in every night, knowing it will turn to little-boy smell before very long.
...his clothes are outgrown before he wears them out.
... I cannot make him hug me longer when he asks to be put down.
... I insist he holds my hand, sometimes when it's not necessary, because I want to feel his tiny hand in mine while he will let me.
...there are not enough books to feed his voracious appetite for them, and we need plenty of time to read them over and over and over.
...a mere camera cannot capture the magical glow of his childhood.
...a video cannot convey the amazement and happiness I am feeling from my end of the lens.
...I can't possibly capture the sweet way he speaks as he learns to say new words, wrapping his tongue around letters and sounds as he practices them.
I can put down my laptop, my iPod, and my phone and focus. And play.
I can love him with every piece of my heart.
I can amble along with him and explore this world we live in.
I can revel in the joy that is right now.