No 100 small things for 2022

At the prospect of a fresh new year since 2015, I have been creating 100 small things lists. They have brought ambition and focus to my years and I have loved them - honestly, that's the kind of nerd I am. A list-loving, big-dreaming, determined-to-do-all-the-things, ambitious nerd. 

But.

this year, I didn't make a 100 small things list. and I feel good about it. I'm not sad or disappointed. I haven't even grown out of the list making; I hope someday to find my way back to that particular style of new year list goal making. 

the last three years have really been a whirlwind for us - I know for all of the world too - but in the last three years, we had both of our moms go through major health concerns, had two babies back to back, I took a year long leave of absence from my job, and um, the global pandemic too. 

it's been a strange path of scary, exciting, change, growth, and learning for all of us - definitely me. 

to highlight my sentiment - I was in the attic the other day grabbing the valentines' decorations box and was shocked to see how far I have lost control of the attic. 

Because not so many years ago, the attic was the one place in the house that was neatly organized and labeled. Mom was allowed up there and everything had a place and everything was in its place. 

Fast forward to being pregnant for two and half years with all kids home in a global pandemic lockdown and the expectations dropped way, way down for attic organization. It was more like - 

"what?! you have no pants that fit, child who grew overnight?! Go up in the attic and drag that box down and when I swap them all out, just throw everyone's grown-out clothes in this tub and shove it up the attic steps...I'll deal with it when I'm not pregnant and the coronavirus is over" 

LOL...when the coronavirus is over. 

hah...funny. 

Aaaaaanyway, when I was up there the other day stepping around the tub of shoes that one of the kids dumped out looking for a pair that fit in a last minute panic; I just shrugged and moved on. 

Because in 12 years of motherhood, I have FINALLY come to understand a very essential piece of parenthood knowledge. 

if you have kids who are not yet walking or talking - the mess and disorganization does not count. 

PERIOD.

end of story. 

there is no discussion on this. 

you are in survival mode, baby. 

it's easy to forget that when your kids get a little bigger.  

heck, I forgot it until I had our last two. 

when you have kids who are not yet talking or walking - it is feeding times and diapers and naptimes and teeth coming in and another round of germs because you have a finger sucker, and growth spurts, and doctors appointments every three freaking months, and droopy necks to clean after every feeding, and all-the-things spilled, and good Lord the baths and lotions and wrestling into jammies, and the waking up in the middle of the night because of a zillion random reasons... 

who in the hell has time or energy to organize the attic boxes?!

plus we have the big ones which now translates to practices, and homework, drop offs and pick ups, and sleepovers, and playdates, and birthday parties, and hormones, and why.are.they.hungry.all.the.time !?

and then all the adulting on top of that: work, meetings, volunteering, paperwork, appointment making, bills, bank accounts, pets, dishes, laundry, grocery lists, meal planning, checking in with parents and friends, and watering the plants (hah, but for real, that's a thing). 

and don't even play when it comes to holidays - HAH. a whole new layer of madness. 

So as 2021 was coming to a close and I was gazing into the fresh new year, 

I took a deep breath and smiled. 

because although this is a chaotic, messy, wild life. 

it is a good, good, great, beautiful life. 

and more than anything, I need a dig out year. 

I need a take-it-easy-girl year. 

I need a reflect and look around and up year. 

I need to live right now in this present moment 

instead of making all the big plans for sometime soon but not right now. 

so in case you needed permission for that kind of year too - here it is. 

same, friends. me too. 

and if not and you are all "Let's go! 2022! New year, new me!"  - know that I am cheering you on and so inspired by you. Because there is almost nothing I love more than big dreams and plans to get there! 

it's just in my current moment, I am living the come-to-life big dreams of my literal seven year old self who married a cute boy and had six babies and a handful of animals. (self-fulfilling prophecy people!! also a real thing!) 

 

so I'm going to snuggle down into this life just as it is and soak it up for all its worth. 

Birthday reflection exercise

It's nearly my birthday, 36!, and every year I find a way to make it weird on all the people that love me and want to celebrate me (hah, sorry). I just really feel that birthdays, at least for me, are meant to be for internal reflection. The only person who deserves to be celebrated on my birthday is my mumma who did all the work that day 36 years ago - Thank you Mum! Love you more. 

So, every year around my birthday, my husband and family has to endure as I go through a few days that have me all weepy with gratitude and quiet with contemplation while I keep telling them to stop making a big deal out of it. (poor Brandon, I love you for putting up with me, babe).

Mostly for me, my birthday is a yearly reminder to be grateful for this life that I get to live. 

There are days that are so long and challenging that I find myself grateful to sink down into bed at night with relief that it is just over. But most days, I cannot believe I get to live this life filled with so much beauty. 

All the tiny regular moments through the year, 

sips of coffee

catching Brandon's eyes across the dinner table

hots showers

a warm day with a cool breeze

the sound of turning a page in a book 

the weight of my babies in my arms

they all collectively add up to this incredible life that I get to live each day. 

The people who show up for me and the people who need me to show up.

The places that I usually find myself and the places I got to explore. 

The laughing and crying and hurting and rejoicing. 

I feel so undeserving but deeply grateful to get to be the one who walks this single, unique, ordinarily extraordinary life. 

My life isn't perfect, but I remain focused on the ways that it is wonderful and all the ways that I can choose to make it better or be grateful for what I do have. 

It comes down to perspective and how you frame your experiences and memories. 

These are some things that I find myself reflecting on each year around my birthday. We get this one year in this one precious life. I want to make them all count. 

1. What lessons did you learn this year? 
Sometimes you learn the hard way, sometimes you learn to be more efficient - both count. 

2. Are you living your daily life in a way that is reflective of the kind of person you want to be remembered as some day?
I often imagine my children and my future grandchildren remembering me or telling stories about me when I am very old or gone. I want to work towards living a life right now that their stories will be the kind of a person I want to be remembered as. That I made time for them and others. That I laughed and smiled. That I made food that felt like a hug. That I found time to be silly and have fun and snuggle. That I behaved as though mess and the loudness and the chaos didn't matter as much as the togetherness. That I was patient and looked at them and listened to them and read a lot of books.....for these stories to be true - I need to live this way right now. 

3. If you had to describe the You you were this year, what words would you use to describe him/her?
She was one part overwhelmed, distracted, and worried and another part ambitious, determined, and patient. It was a strange year of life last year. A challenging year at school, a scary year for health of a loved one but then that half of the year drove the other half towards being intentional on doing better; being more aware, taken advantage of health and youth and the beautiful expanse of summer free days of possibility. 

4. Who did you admire this year? Who do you want to be more like? Why? How?
Reflect on who you were surprised by or who impressed you this year. Who made you think, I want to be more like that. Maybe it was a small, kind gesture from someone you know personally or maybe it was something big on a large scale that inspired you from someone you simply read about. Think about what it was that inspired admiration; is it something that you already have inside you that just needs to burn a little brighter - or is it something you want to change or add to yourself? 

5. How were people supportive to you this year? How can you be supportive to others in the same way you felt supported this year? 
Think back to the people who were in your corner this year - how did you know they were there for you? Did they show up? Did they reach out? Did they lend a helping hand? Do you show support to people you love in the same ways that gave you support? How can you do better? Who needs you in their corner? 

6. Reflect on the titles you held this year. 
Spouse, parent, child, sibling, aunt/uncle, grandparent, friend, job title, coach, etc. Which of these were easy and fulfilling? Which were challenging? Do you need to re-prioritize this year? Do you need to change any? Do you need to add any? 

7. Reflect on the things you accomplished this year. 
What did you volunteer to do? What were you forced or pressured into doing? How many times did you say Yes? Why? Was it worth it? How many times did you say No? Why? Was it worth it? Where in your life should you try to say No more? Where in your life should you try to say Yes more?

8. In what small moments did you fill most like your true self? 
When you are your true self, who is with you? Are you alone? What were you doing? How can you make more moments for you to be your true self throughout the year, months, weeks, days. Are there daily routines that bring peace of mind that you can continue? Are there moments where a routine or tradition can help bring you peace of mind this year? 

9. You will never be this young again in your life, what can you do this year to take advantage of this youthfulness that you still have? 
What are things your mind, body, and health allow you to do right now that you can't guarantee as you get the privilege of growing older? Will you take better care of your body this year; healthy whole foods? exercise? moisturizer and sunscreen? meditation? get a check up? Will you learn a new skill; knitting? a musical instrument? calligraphy? a recipe from an elderly family member? Will you expand your horizons; travel? learn a new language? take up a hobby? participate in a local sports league? volunteer your time for others? 

10. Plot this year on a big imaginary scale with all other years, where does this one fall? 
Maybe looking back it will be one of your favorite years and you know already you'll look back and think, 'oh to be that age again!" Or maybe it belongs in the worst/scariest/most challenging years category. If it was a hard one, that's okay - sometimes life is like that, but look at you - you persevered and for that you can be grateful; even if just because that year is over.  If it falls in the rating of Meh, how can we make that different next year. You get one year this age and that's it! We should be living in a way that no years turn out to be just 'meh' years! 

how to boil an egg? who do you ask?

Let's pretend for a second that we really are sitting together at your kitchen table (or mine, whichever) and we're drinking coffee together.  This is topic I really would bring up because I'm totally intense when it comes to conversations (thanks real life people who put up with this all the time:  B, mum, dad, kayla, tasha, gigi, pap, katie, stace). But just go with me here, no cleaned up, pinterest-friendly blog talk here, this is real life tab stuff, so brace yourself.

This past Easter, as in all Easters of my motherhood, without fail I forgot how to boil eggs.  So, as I was bustling around getting things in order to spend the morning corralling the kids and their wobbly hands, I reached for my phone to google 'how to boil an egg.'

I don't know what made me pause, it could have been that the upcoming Screen free week was on my mind (our third consecutive year participating) or that my grandma passed away seven years ago around Easter and I was missing her - but for whatever reason I paused before I opened my internet browser on my phone and thought,
if I didn't look this up right now,
if I didn't have the internet,
who would I ask?

my mum.

So, even though it wasn't as easy or as fast as typing the question in and getting an answer within a nanosecond of 'how to boil an egg' (step by step photos included!), I called my Mum instead and asked her.

I got my answer, let her know that her grandkids were coloring eggs that morning (she'd have seen the instagram in an hour otherwise) and I thanked her for the help.

It's not that I don't think my parents (or anyone else) have the answer, but it's just easier/faster to get it from the internet.  So when push comes to shove, in a world where easier/faster is preferred (sometimes necessary at the expected pace of performance!), I pick the internet as my first choice to find answers.

What does that feel like from their side (Mum?  Dad?  Gigi?  Pap? Mimi?) I'm guessing it feels like they're not needed.  At least not in that way: not in the dispensing of wisdom and experience way?  And that's awful and makes me feel awful.  Or maybe they don't think about it at all, it's just the way things are now?  I doubt it, because thinking about my own kids growing up and not calling to ask us how to boil an egg/change a tire/make pasta salad makes me feel sad.

Children are supposed to grow up and be able to function all by themselves, that's the point of parents after all.  But what does it say about our society's ideas on wisdom or experience, or even respect for elders when we get all of our answers and understanding about the world from the (mostly) anonymous internet?

It was one tiny moment - calling my mum about boiling eggs, but one that I have kept thinking about since then, six months later!  We are also reading The Winter of Our Disconnect by Susan Maushart in The Inspired Readers book club this month, and it has me reflecting on this thought even more.  Furthermore, I recently watched the amazing documentary Alive Inside (about Alzheimer's and nursing homes- it's on Netflix!) which has only further pushed me into reflection on this idea.

Surely my experience is not singular in the world, and so then what are the implications that technology and access to all answers at all times, has on family relationships?  On mothers and daughters?  on sons and fathers?  on grandkids and grandparents?  On how the young in our society views the elderly?

Do we value easier/faster over real life experience and earned wisdom?  I venture to say yes, but then what implications does that have on our society? on each of our families?  on our kids?

This post in no way has any answers or solutions, or even really a hypothesis.  And it's not to proclaim that I make the consistent effort to choose human answers over internet answers, cause I don't. like at all.

I've just been thinking about it and now I hope you'll be thinking about it and maybe just because it's in our brains now, we can maybe figure out how to strengthen our relationships with the people we love.


What if this week, instead of googling the answer to a question you have, I challenge you (and me) to ask a real life human.  Just see what happens, maybe nothing.  Maybe everything.

fall and the winds of reflection

Fall gets me.
or maybe I get fall.
but in any case, fall and I have a special connection.

And I don't even mean because of all the beautiful colors on the trees and the mums (!) and the pumpkins.  Or the hoodies and pumpkin spice flavored treats, or even Halloween...although, I do love all of those things.  

My heart connection to the fall season actually has to do with the the overwhelming sense of reflection that I get each year around this time.  It starts with the back-to-school aisles, all those rows of perfectly organized pencils and markers.  Back to school always gives me a sense of wild excitement. It's the combination of office supplies (because, puhlease, I'm such a sucker for a box of crayola markers, and a stack of post-it notes) and the idea of getting back into a routine.  

I was trying to explain to Brandon that growing up, since we were kind of rural kids, we really didn't see our friends over the summer (except for west point road kids, shout out to Krista!) because there was no internet, no cell phones, no public transportation,so yeah, that's part of the reason why my sisters and I are so tight (hah).  The start of school really did mean seeing our friends again which was fantastically exciting and I still have that butterfly feeling in my stomach every single year just lingering over from childhood days long gone. 

The start of school jitters ease and with the first sight of a changing leaf on a tree, or the sound of rustling fallen leaves on the road, my heart swells.  

This season feels like permission to shed my own figurative leaves too.  A visual reminder that it's the season for reflection, shaking off whatever's been holding on too long, and a time to settle in for the winter months. 

Instead of associating fall as the heralding in of winter, I liken it to the shedding of the summer.  Our summers (and spring...well also our winters too in the smack dab of basketball season) is so full of plans, celebrations, traveling, and events.  It feels like the other three seasons fly by in a whirlwind  and I find myself going back through the photo folders and catching myself thinking, 'omigosh, I forgot we did that.'

But fall,
fall is different.

We still have plans and celebrations and places to be, but somehow fall feels like we've tied up the loose ends of summer's wild ride and the busy of Christmas is still far away.
In suspension almost.
We're not awaiting the next thing, we're just here right now in our hoodies and re-reading our favorite Halloween books for the three hundredth time, and relishing in the last days outside before the cold forces us in.

This year, I'm finding myself doing a lot of reflection on the day to day of our life; what are my routines?  Am I making choices about the way I spend my day with intention or is my day to day activities just happening...and if that's the case, what will be the things I remember back on this time when my kids are so young?  What will my young kids remember back on this time based off of our daily activities?

In our Inspired Readers book club, we're also reading a very timely book for my fall season reflection; The Winter of Our Disconnect as it has me really thinking on how we, as a family, experience technology and how that technology helps us or (eek!) hinders us in experiencing life.

I know the kind of person I want to be each day, and I know what I hope/want my kids to remember back on about this time in our life - it's just a matter of putting in the time and effort to make those things happen (even if only a little bit) each day.  What's that Annie Dillard quote again...

We've made ambitious plans for October already that will hopefully address some of the ways we'd like to live our days more like how we hope to live our lives:

We're tackling my 100 small things items:
For a whole month, no eating out (life goals: save money, be more daring in the kitchen, continue to eat dinners as a family)

and also For a whole month, blog everyday (life goal:  make time to write every single day, Tabitha!!!)
Actually, this goal will technically run from September 29-October 29, because I took a cue from Ashley of the BWF when she said don't wait to 'start' something if you're ready now! Thanks as always for the inspiration, Ashley!


Do you love the fall season too?  Are you living  your days like you hope to live your life?  Share how!
xxoxo

a speck in the vastness

Last night, Bullet was making us all a little batty.  He kept stealing the kids' stuffed animals and chasing his tail and basically being the physical manifestation of cabin fever.

So, even though I really really really (did I say really?) didn't want to, I pulled on my sneakers for the first time in about ten days and took him out for a jog because he needed to smell and pee on weird things and be in wide open spaces of the fields behind our house.  And once we got back there and dusk was already blanketing us and, as I was headphoneless, the crickets were singing their favorite tune for us, I realized that was exactly what I needed to...not the smelling and peeing on weird things of course, but to be in the wide open spaces.

I've been all wrapped up in my own head the past two weeks between the start of the school year, which truthfully has not been going anywhere as smoothly as I had imagined (like everything in life, right?) Grey has been feeling homesick at school and whines about going every day.  every.day.  so my mind has been a whirlwind of how to support him, how to encourage him, how I've basically done a poor job of preparation and I'm bad at being a mom (I know, that's going off the deep end, Tabitha - but this is how I speak to myself inside of my brain at 11:30pm, so let's just be real).

Plus, the news.  ugh, the news that's been breaking my heart and I have not been able to drag myself to this keyboard and write anything that seems important when there are babies washing ashore in Greece.  what is wrong with the world, everyone seems to ask.  to point fingers at everyone else.  there's an us and a them everyone seems to agree.  everywhere you look everyone is distinguishing between an us and a them.

So back to last night, Bullet and I were jogging in the mostly dark trails behind our house, and it is rare to see another living human.  We see all sorts of living things, deer, turkey, last night I swear there was an anteater like 50 yards away...I know it couldn't have been, but then what was that?  And I get to look across the fields, and over at the mountains, and running past the forest lined trail, I can feel myself coming back into focus.  If you zoomed out to helicopter height, would you even see Bullet and I?  Wouldn't we just blend in with the topography of the landscape?  All of my worries and thoughts and stresses contained to just this one tiny person on a back dirt road in the middle of corn fields and meadows.  A speck.

It has always been a great comfort to me to know I'm a speck in the vastness.  When we travel to the beach, one of my favorite things to do at least once while we are there, is to take a kayak out past the waves and the reef and as my husband holds his breath in panic and shakes his head at me incredulously but supportively (the story of our marriage), I hop off the side and drop myself into the deep blue sea.  I only stay in for a moment or two (mostly because Brandon is scanning the vicinity with expectant eyes of any giant sea creature to just jump up and swallow me whole), but I can picture myself zoomed out in that moment: me and my heart full of so much and my brain full of so much feeling as grand and big as the world itself, then I drop into the ocean and it would be impossible for me to make a smaller dent.  Sinking underwater with a big leap but only dropping a few feet in with the whole of the ocean beneath me.  A speck.

I love the city, which many people find incredible considering I was born and raised country and also love living in the country as an adult.  Who in a stable mental capacity loves both the city and the country?  well, me.

Anyway, I can get the speck feeling in the city too, I used to walk home from teaching and pass apartment building after apartment building, each building holding a hundred apartments, and knowing each apartment holds a different person or family.  And each of them are bursting with their own heart full of so much and their own brain full of so much.  There I was walking on the sidewalk while hundreds, thousands, millions of families were eating their dinner, or arguing, or falling in love.  A speck.

There's a freedom that comes with recognizing that you are only a speck.  Because life does not usually exist in the zoom out, but rather the zoom in, which is incredibly overwhelming.

Zoomed in, I am actually everything, all things - especially in this home and to my family.  If I'm off center, the whole of our daily life is crooked a bit and everyone feels it.  There's chores and bills and the stress of our bank account numbers and worrying about loving the kids enough each day, and don't forget to schedule that appointment, and make time to write on the blog, and I can't believe a friend would share that divisive article on facebook, and how long has it been since the dogs got a bath, and crap, I need to order new photos of the kids for the grandparents, and why are we out of diapers again already?

"How Mom feels," the elusive 'they' say, "is how everyone feels."
In my day to day living, a speck is the opposite of how I feel.

I wrote about this idea of recognizing that each of us are only a speck in the vastness in my 25 Lessons for my Daughters post:

17. Remember you are just a very, very small part of this great big world
It's a harsh reality, sweetheart, but nearly everything that happens to you in your life has also happened to someone else. Yes, you are unique and wonderful and completely you - but this world and her history is so great and big that you are really only a teeny, tiny piece of a vast puzzle. You fit just right into the picture that we all make together, but keep an anchor in knowing that you are but one small part. When you forget this fact, it's easy to believe that your own problems are all-encompassing and more important than everyone else's. Sorry baby, but they aren't. Time marches on, my girl, no matter what happens to any of us.

And it's liberating to know that I am one of many.  So, so many.  One of billions of women.  One of billions of Mummas, one of millions of bloggers, one of millions of writers, one of thousands of people who call their favorite book A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, one of the hundreds of people that woke up this morning and thought 'I want a biscotti to dip in my coffee right now so much it's bizarre." All the things that make up me, there are other people that are feeling, doing, experiencing, and thinking that too.  In no things am I alone.

and yet.
there is also no one else on the planet and in the history of the planet that has had all of those things that make up me all together at once.  I share all the things about me with billions, millions, thousands, hundreds of other people through space and time.  But no single other person has all of the things at once like I do.  And that too is quite extraordinary.

As I said in my post for my daughters:

18. Remember, too though, that your actions have never-ending ripples that will go on to affect people that you may never meet.
Even though we are each a very small part of this great big world, every action we extend to another person leaves an imprint. Try to choose kindness to which you react and distribute to others. It's no easy task to choose patience and kindness when others are not doing the same, but remember that you are in charge of your own ripples that will make their way out into the world. Make it so that when people think of their experience with you - it is with a smile and gratitude for getting to have crossed their path with yours.

So friends, on this Saturday morning while all three of my kids are still sleeping (!! joy of joys) and my coffee is still hot, I'll finish with this.

There is no us and them.
We are all just specks among other specks.
All of your worries and problems and stress is also being experienced by someone else, lots of someone elses.  Someone else that you might initially believe is a 'them' to your 'us.'
Nope, all just specks.

But don't lose sight too, that your speck is important and unique and singular.  Still just a speck, but an important speck.  Just like every single one of everyone else's speck that is unique and singular and valuable.

Just a drop in the ocean...but oh how our ripples float out.