At the risk of sounding like a snake handling zealot, I can confidently state that the minute you try and do something good with your time and life, Satan himself will be waiting in the wings to give you a good run around.
Once again, the beginning of the year arrived and I was full of hope and promise. I had my Air Pods, I had my paper planner, and I had lots of energy and determination. Then after only a few days of using my Air Pods, the charging case disappeared. The best I can figure is that it fell into a Chik Fil A bag, which was thrown away. Then, I received a call from a doctor's appointment asking my whereabouts. I had, in fact, recorded the event in my DIGITAL calendar, but not the PAPER one, but the PAPER one was the calendar I'd newly come to rely on. You know, the method that was about to save my life and prevent me from continuing to look like a bumbling idiot. Anywhoozles. I raced to the appointment 25 minutes late, with baby #3 in tow. I got to the appointment and looked down. He had on a Santa Claus pajama top, navy joggers, no socks and mashed banana all over his face. You're killing 2018, big D. Killing.it.
In addition, all of my excitement over using the elliptical daily, sparked hip pain from an old injury that has taken a full week without exercise to subside. Just in time for...influenza.
First, our oldest shouldered a mild version, but three days in, everyone else had taken ill and I was ferrying liquids, medicines, popsicles, blankets, cold rags, and prayers from one corner of the house to another. Vomit, and fever, and chills...oh my!
At 4 a.m., I decided to take the baby to the emergency room. His fever was over 104 and I was a nervous wreck. Still, seven years later, recounting the image of our oldest child being intubated over encephalitis and a seizure, I sped through town with my flashers on. A Maniac Mother. Upon arrival, his temperature continued to fluctuate between 101 and 104, despite being given Ibuprofen. No one else was alarmed. Just me. Just panicked, no medical education, me.
You know that moment when you realize, you made the wrong judgement call and should have just stayed home. The moment they say, "Oh, well, unless it's 105, we don't really do anything." Thanks, could I get a refund, then? No, really. I know my husband is a doctor, but I totally asked for a refund. I mean they hadn't done anything, yet. It's a fair question. Can't I just slip out? Call it good? Nope. So, we laid there for two hours to confirm what we already knew. He had the flu. Go home and keep on keeping on.
And SOMEHOW, some FREAKING how, I woke up and we are 15 days in. FIFTEEN. This right here is EXACTLY how last year happened. (It's actually 16 days, because it takes me two or three days just to write a blog post!)
Except.
Last year, I was not aware. And before you know it, it was Christmas and the reflection of 2017 didn't look anything like I'd wanted it.
Not happenin again, Willis. Not...again.
So, I put my big girl happy pants on. I took my vitamins and whipped the PAPER planner back out. I also relocated my AirPods charging case after I typed the top paragraph! And, I spent a moment taking stock of what I HAVE done and accomplished. I think, as women, we don't really take an account of all of the miraculous, wonderful things we get done in a day and spend too much time feeling like a failure when we don't live up to our own standard. If you're anything like me, the minute you don't reach some of your partially unrealistic goals, you burn it all in a dumpster fire and head for Krispy Kreme. If it can't be perfect, it should be disastrous and burnt into the oblivion of non-existence. Right?
Set realistic expectations. Give yourself some grace. And when the lost item, forgotten appointment, influenza tumbleweed knocks you out of the saddle, straighten up that cowgirl hat, dust off your chaps, and get back in the saddle again.
Once again, the beginning of the year arrived and I was full of hope and promise. I had my Air Pods, I had my paper planner, and I had lots of energy and determination. Then after only a few days of using my Air Pods, the charging case disappeared. The best I can figure is that it fell into a Chik Fil A bag, which was thrown away. Then, I received a call from a doctor's appointment asking my whereabouts. I had, in fact, recorded the event in my DIGITAL calendar, but not the PAPER one, but the PAPER one was the calendar I'd newly come to rely on. You know, the method that was about to save my life and prevent me from continuing to look like a bumbling idiot. Anywhoozles. I raced to the appointment 25 minutes late, with baby #3 in tow. I got to the appointment and looked down. He had on a Santa Claus pajama top, navy joggers, no socks and mashed banana all over his face. You're killing 2018, big D. Killing.it.
In addition, all of my excitement over using the elliptical daily, sparked hip pain from an old injury that has taken a full week without exercise to subside. Just in time for...influenza.
First, our oldest shouldered a mild version, but three days in, everyone else had taken ill and I was ferrying liquids, medicines, popsicles, blankets, cold rags, and prayers from one corner of the house to another. Vomit, and fever, and chills...oh my!
At 4 a.m., I decided to take the baby to the emergency room. His fever was over 104 and I was a nervous wreck. Still, seven years later, recounting the image of our oldest child being intubated over encephalitis and a seizure, I sped through town with my flashers on. A Maniac Mother. Upon arrival, his temperature continued to fluctuate between 101 and 104, despite being given Ibuprofen. No one else was alarmed. Just me. Just panicked, no medical education, me.
You know that moment when you realize, you made the wrong judgement call and should have just stayed home. The moment they say, "Oh, well, unless it's 105, we don't really do anything." Thanks, could I get a refund, then? No, really. I know my husband is a doctor, but I totally asked for a refund. I mean they hadn't done anything, yet. It's a fair question. Can't I just slip out? Call it good? Nope. So, we laid there for two hours to confirm what we already knew. He had the flu. Go home and keep on keeping on.
And SOMEHOW, some FREAKING how, I woke up and we are 15 days in. FIFTEEN. This right here is EXACTLY how last year happened. (It's actually 16 days, because it takes me two or three days just to write a blog post!)
Except.
Last year, I was not aware. And before you know it, it was Christmas and the reflection of 2017 didn't look anything like I'd wanted it.
Not happenin again, Willis. Not...again.
So, I put my big girl happy pants on. I took my vitamins and whipped the PAPER planner back out. I also relocated my AirPods charging case after I typed the top paragraph! And, I spent a moment taking stock of what I HAVE done and accomplished. I think, as women, we don't really take an account of all of the miraculous, wonderful things we get done in a day and spend too much time feeling like a failure when we don't live up to our own standard. If you're anything like me, the minute you don't reach some of your partially unrealistic goals, you burn it all in a dumpster fire and head for Krispy Kreme. If it can't be perfect, it should be disastrous and burnt into the oblivion of non-existence. Right?
Set realistic expectations. Give yourself some grace. And when the lost item, forgotten appointment, influenza tumbleweed knocks you out of the saddle, straighten up that cowgirl hat, dust off your chaps, and get back in the saddle again.
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