“The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry.” ~Robert Burns
I’m a planner. And we had plans.
The kids, for the first time in a month, were going to spend the night at the grandparents house. We were going to make appetizers from Trader Joe’s, have a glass of wine, eat chocolate, and watch really crappy TV. I doubt we would have made it to midnight to see the beginning of 2015, but I would have tried. And it would have been OK because there would have been no little feet padding towards me at 1:30 or 3:45 in the morning needing to go to the bathroom, or an extra hug and kiss, or needing a drink of water.
We had plans. And like the many other times we made plans, they slowly imploded on themselves until none of the original plan was remotely intact.
After shipping everyone off and sitting down to binge watch crappy TV UNINTERRUPTED I received “The Call”. The little one, who hadn’t been feeling so great lately, didn’t want to stay. He just wanted to be home and snuggle with us. My face and spirits fell and I immediately began to cry (chalk it up to pregnancy hormones). I was going to get to watch TV! I was going to get uninterrupted sleep! I was going to stay up past 10!
And then I stopped and really thought about the situation. And guilt replaced my outrage and upset-ness. My little one, who wouldn’t be my little one in 3 short months, wanted to stay home and snuggle with his mom. Why in the world was I upset about this? I admit that we have it rather easy on our end. The kids spend an obscene amount of time with their grandparents giving us ample time off. And here I was wanting more.
I had this whole post written in my head about how, while 2014 was very tough, it was also a year of growth. I was going to write about how 2015 was going to trump last year, I was going to go harder, push more, and ultimately be fierce. This was going to be MY year. It was going to be all about ME and what I wanted to accomplish.
But as always, it’s the smallest things that lead us to see the errors in our ways. I do need to improve, but not in the way I so desperately thought. Instead of constantly needing to pick up new things, try new things, be new, I need to be better at the things I already am. I need to be better at the things that are inevitable (not in a bad way). I need to be better at the things that I already am: mother, wife, friend.
That’s not to say that I will not continue to make time for my running, that I won’t branch out and seek the unknown, but simply that I also need to pay attention to the now, be present in the moment, remember that each day is a gift.
I need to stop trying to go out and be extraordinary and “make” extraneous memories, when my everyday actions are creating memories of their own: reading a book with little O, going for a neighborhood jog with M, feeling Baby 3 kick every moment of the day.
I need to stop thinking “been there, done that” for these moments and realize that each experience, no matter how repetitive or mundane may not be that way for the littles or for others involved.
I need to start appreciating what I have a little bit more.