Words of wisdom

My days have been punctuated with deadlines, mountains of work, pages of to do lists, and a race against time - a race that I will never win.  I have been forgoing sleep in favor of deep dark circles, wrinkles, and getting (not enough) things done.

NPR and I used to be close friends when I worked in Boston, but now my car time is limited, and is generally limited to music which is totally inappropriate for Oliver and Henni, but which they adore, so we blast it as loud as we can (our number one favorite right now - Icona Pop - I love it).   Somehow, however, I managed to time my five minute commute from work to school perfectly - perfectly enough to hear just enough of Brigid Schulte's interview about her new book "Overwhelmed."  A couple days later I stumbled upon a Slate.com review of the book.  

I hate the phrase "my mantra," but I guess that is what I have now.  I have decided to repeat over and over in my head that I am not busy.  I have chosen a select few things from my to do list, and have accomplished them.  I have delegated.  I have breathed.  I have decided that I will force myself to go to a make up counter and get something for those damn circles (the last trip to said counter was before my wedding - before my circles). (Just think of what I could do if I actually read the book!)

The result - a much calmer, happier mommy.  One who is paying more attention to my small friends.

Oliver and I have gone exploring together - leaving the house while the rest of the sleepy heads are still fast asleep) - and tracking animals and laughing our heads off.

We've also started to read chapter books together - all of us loving the adventure and imagination that comes with these books.

Tonight I was thinking about all of this when I was snuggling with Henni at bed time.  I thought she was asleep and was about to leave.  I kissed her head and she turned and kissed me and said: "Mommy, you know you can't do it all alone.  I love you."

I have no idea if she was thinking of something else, or if somehow she had gotten inside my head.  But that little girl, at three, is damn straight.  You can't do it alone - nor should you.