I’ll put it on the schedule

It’s taken me seven years of parenthood to see
that I’m better
when I’m busy.

And I am.
I love my kids more.
More?
Yes, More.

I work full-time. Monday through Friday. I exhaust myself by showering and dressing and drying my hair. By choosing just how presentable I’m going to look at the office today. By fitting all my wants and needs around this uncompromising schedule that ties me to a desk, and a computer, and a phone, and a money-making lifestyle. (Not much money, mind you. Don’t get the wrong idea.)

I have a calendar on the kitchen wall. A dry-erase board. We fill in the dates. I put up the birthdays. (Even though I always forget to send the cards.) And there’s usually a small sprinkling of activities. A holiday. A book group meeting. A doctor’s appointment. Never much more than that.

That is, there wasn’t, until the second calendar came along.

It’s a large desktop calendar. Peach-colored. Been shoved behind the refrigerator for three or four months. We dusted it off. Nailed it up. And clipped two felt-tip pens to it. Green for Dan and orange for me. I’m proud to say that I have finally started carving out time for exercise. And now, four weeks later, I have a record of every mile, every lap, every minute I’ve logged in the last month. Sometimes it’s a headache figuring out just how I’ll get to the pool or when I’ll have time to lace up my sneakers and tune into my iPod. But I’ve made it happen. For an entire month. And I’m better for it.

And so are my kids.
And so is my usually blank calendar.
Because I’ve filled it with dinner dates and weekend activities. I’ve embraced our new commitment to travel soccer and written in practice dates and times. I’ve managed babysitters for upcoming events. Have planned their arrivals and departures. Have thought more than one day in advance. Life is anew.

I came home from work today and actually played with the kids. Hours later I walked in the door from soccer practice and the baby was crying. He never cries. He always goes right to sleep. My heart did a ping-pang-pong and softened. And I rocked him. I rocked him and rocked him and he was miserable. He couldn’t sleep. He wanted to sleep but he couldn’t. Upset tummy. So down he came into the light. Some Gripe Water. Some time with Mom. And I didn’t mind. Not one bit. And even better, it’s not guilt. It’s just that I’m learning.

To enjoy my life. To feel fulfilled. To have a reason.

Fitting more into my day – my every day – has helped me to appreciate the littlest things that much more.