I had a relatively simple childhood. My days were spent
playing on my own—in the warm months, creating magical gardens and befriending
neighborhood cats, running amok in our backyard, playing with dirt; with
sticks; collecting leaves and always promising myself that I’d dry them and
keep them in a book (I never did). In the colder months, I spent my time
imagining worlds for my Barbie dolls to live in, I read, and I played with my
older sister.
There were no such things as dance classes, gymnastics,
swimming, or karate for me. We never went on play dates, and my mom never had
any other “mom friends” over. That said, I had a stress free, easy-going,
blissful childhood. I never worried about being anywhere besides school—I never
had a weekly schedule with anything on it other than homework. And I have no
complaints.
Oh, how times have changed. As my kids get older and more
active, I find myself trying to come up with ways to occupy their time. Don’t
get me wrong—we have plenty of fun on our own. But, there are only so many ways
we can dress up, only so many books we can read, puzzles we can make, crafts we
can create, cupcakes and cookies we can bake; canvases we can paint; play dough
we can concoct. We watch TV, but I dislike simply sticking my kids in front of
it for the duration of the cold months; and they, and I, need social
interaction.
So, we take classes. Lots and lots of classes. Art, guitar,
and baseball for my son; dance, animal/nature, art and piano for my daughter. I
swore I would never become one of those “We have to go to _____ class today”
moms, but I have (oh, and by the way, I could write a book listing all the
things I said I or my kids would “never” do).
My husband and I agreed that if any of our kids showed an
interest or any affinity for something, we would jump right on it and encourage
them in every way possible. We’ve stuck to that, and I’m so happy and grateful
that we’ve been able to hone in on my son’s interests and have figured out what
makes him “tick” to some extent. He is so happy with art and music; and his dad
is coaching him in baseball, which is such an amazing opportunity for the two
of them. My daughter is pretty easygoing when it comes to activities, but her
interests are clear and she absolutely adores being out and about and enjoys
each of her classes. We’ve tried out activities that have turned out to be duds
now and again, but I definitely feel that each instance has taught us
something.
I do, however, find this way of life somewhat
challenging—more accurately, I find keeping the balance between work and play
to be a constant worry, and something I have to be acutely conscious of. Being
this busy is a slippery slope, and one can quickly forget to stop and smell the
roses, watch the leaves turn, watch the snow fall. To take pleasure in simply
being—in each day, in each breath. To not let life get in the way of living.
Do I want the type of life where I drive my minivan
frantically from place to place, dropping off one kid here and one there? There
will come a time when my kids’ day is structured and scheduled to the hour.
There will be days when they want to play but will have to do homework instead
(in fact, as the weather gets warmer, those days are rapidly approaching).
There will be a day when, no matter how much my son loves Little League, he
will want to sleep in instead of waking up for 7 a.m. practice on a Saturday. There
are days already when my daughter wakes up grumpy, yet we still drag ourselves
to music class because we’ve committed to it.
A few months ago I lightened the load of responsibilities
that were causing me stress and anxiety but were bringing me little, if any,
pleasure. I re-evaluated much of what I was doing with my family and decided we
had to get rid of whatever was not making us truly happy. I enjoy being engaged
and active in my life; but as they say, life is what happens while you’re busy
making other plans—and I don’t want to let mine pass me by.
If living my life is causing me grief, if the day-to-day
activities with my children stress me out to the point where I lose my mind,
don’t I need to step back and re-evaluate? And do I really want my kids harried
and stressed out over missing a class, a playdate, or being late? My sweetest
daydreams of spending time with my family include cozy mornings making waffles;
hot cocoa by the tree on Christmas day; stopping to jump into a pile of fall
leaves while walking through the park; playing catch with the dog; sleeping in;
and not doing anything at all.
And yet, I also see myself being buried under
sports/music/art equipment. We do schedule activities and go to games,
recitals, and exhibitions—and they are a joy. I do see my kids in sports
uniforms, holding clarinets, covered in paint. I want our children to do what
they love, and love what they do. I them to feel happy, safe, and secure, and know that their home is
their haven, the place they can always come back to. I also want them to
cultivate their interests, live a full life, and make the most of each day.
Nowhere in my daydreams do I see myself running ragged for
anything; being so stressed out over the amount of items on my calendar that I lose
my mind. However, despite my best intentions, I do run ragged, run late, and
feel like a hamster in a wheel at times. Those are the times that I have taught
myself to step back, breathe deep, and evaluate. Whatever is not truly
important gets purged.
What difference does it make if my calendar is full but I’m
so busy I don’t know what day of the week it is? And if I fill the little boxes
in with constant activities, where is the space for fun, for exploration, for
time just spent together? What’s the point of “getting everything done” if I’ve
lost my temper and yelled at my kids and my spouse?
Years ago, I used to look at my life from the outside—like a
picture, I wanted it to look perfect, pretty, and well organized. Now, I remind
myself to live my life on the inside—realizing that the picture many not always
look perfect, but knowing that what I fill the blanks in with is important.
So far, my boxes are full of the things we enjoy, while
leaving space for us to breathe, have fun, and simply live. And I’ve discovered that what may look empty from the outside
is more fulfilling than any pretty picture.
