This Is It.

It happened on a Tuesday. Tuesday, June 4, 2019. Around 11:45 am. That’s when it happened.

Rewind.

Do you recall back in January when I shared my *word* for 2019? Rather than setting resolutions or a list of goals at the beginning of a new year, I pick a word that I want to embody. I’ve done this for a few years now, and it seems to serve me much better than the traditional form of resolution setting. Last year my word was growth. This year it is present. Have I been 100% present every minute of every day, in every conversation or task? Of course not. I’m a firm believer that perfectionism is unattainable and obsessing with such will drain us of all happiness in life. Have I caught myself on my phone more than I care to admit? Certainly. Have I been the perfect mom? There’s no such thing. But have I been present? Yes.

While I have felt that I am doing a decent job of being present, generally speaking, I also am humble enough to admit that I have struggled with balance. I think this is something we all struggle with to a degree, but I feel that women tend to be more susceptible to it, and dreamers and doers like myself tend to really struggle with this. Some weeks I feel that I am crushing it. Work, personal development, self-care, mom life, wife life… all the things. Consider them crushed. Other weeks? Pssh. Yea, far from it. My brain is hardwired for productivity. I have a very difficult time slowing down and savoring the little moments or the quiet or the stillness, because my brain runs at 300 miles per hour and my mental to-do list is ever-growing. Sound familiar?

So what does all this have to do with June 4, 2019 at approximately 11:45am? I was present. 150% present for the moment you see pictured with this post. This moment that brought me to literal tears. One that I am so glad I captured on film, but that I also promptly put my phone down after snapping and just savored the moment for as long as it lasted. The reality of that moment is that I very well could’ve missed it.

Our sense of routine and normalcy has been flipped on it’s head lately with Jason’s new hours. Mondays are a long day for us, and the day prior to this moment day been particularly tough for me. I didn’t sleep well the night before. Bennett wanted to be held all day, and cried every time I set him down, even if just to change him. My back was killing me, and I was tired, really tired. Jason biked to work that day, which means he leaves an hour earlier and gets home an hour later than he would’ve if driving. By the time he walked in the door I had approximately 0 tasks fully completed, and about 7 tasks that had been started and abandoned midway. I was ready to clock out, and I actually used those words when I asked him to shower almost immediately because I needed a break. He did so, without complaint, then took the baby and played with him and enjoyed his smiles and coos while I did other things. I needed to feel some sense of completion that day. I needed to be able to finish the laundry, the dog food, the dishes, and dinner with both hands available to me. As I have owned before, physical clutter equates to mental clutter and overwhelm for me. I needed that 45 minutes to finish something, anything, so that I could feel less overwhelm and enjoy my family. I thanked him after dinner for giving me that time and space because I felt so much better. I felt like I had a renewed energy and that I could actually face the week ahead versus drowning in it.

Because of that, when 11:30am Tuesday rolled around, and it was gloomy and rainy, Jason was ready to sleep for a few hours, and Bennett was ready to nurse and nap, we all snuggled up {pups included} in our king sized bed. Barley curled up on my feet instantly. Ranger hates storms, so he wasn’t super quick to settle. Jason coaxed him over to him, and he laid his head on his chest for a few minutes. We exchanged smiles, he kissed Ranger’s head and said ” I love you, old guy.” and continued to pet him. A few minutes pass, and Ranger re-situated. Bennett had finished nursing at this point and was asleep. Jason was drifting off and rolled over to cuddle Ranger, reaching his arm across him toward Bennett. And then it happened. In his sleep, Bennett’s hand found Jason’s finger, and in that moment, my boys melted my heart. Had I let the mundane chores that were calling my name or the big things I have in the works for my clients tell me that I should have sneaked away and used those nap minutes for something more productive, I would’ve missed this. But I didn’t. I stayed, and I smiled, and I cried, and I savored every second of that moment. Because the truth is, that itty bitty baby hand will never again be as small as it was in that moment. Ranger will never again be only as gray, or only as cancer-ridden as he currently is. The days can be tiresome, but the weeks and the months and the years are flying by. And that to-do list was still there waiting for me around 12:30pm when the baby and the dogs decided they were ready to get up again.  This is it. This is what I meant when I set out to be present.

“I get so busy sometimes chasing the extraordinary moments, that I don’t pay attention to the ordinary moments. The moments that, if taken away, I would miss more than anything.” – Brene Brown, the Call to Courage

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *