Refocus

Sometimes things go smoothly and perfectly.  Sometimes life has no bumps.  There's no worries and I can just focus on being a super mom and wife and it all comes so easily.

But that happened like, once.  Back in maybe 2003.

Most of the times it's controlled chaos.  I'm winging it and hanging on for dear life.  With seven kids and two busy businesses, and autism thrown into the mix, sometimes I am hanging on with maybe one or two fingers.

Life is moving forward and seems to be moving faster than usual lately.  We're working on building a bigger house to fit all of us.  As one would imagine, this has all the ear marks of landing me in a mental institution.  Hannah's in company dance, which means lots of practices and running around.  I am possibly the world's worst dance mom.  Having had five boys and 2 girls--both of whom sported bob hair styles for most of their lives, I am hairstyle deficient.  Even a french braid is giving me heartache.  Ella and Garrett are also dancing.  There is a lot of piano and scouts and soccer and homework and reading and just...life.

Lately business has been busy.  Most of the busy is good busy.  But there's things like navigating Facebook's ever changing waters.  There's a crazy website and wonky hosting issue that keeps popping up, which leads to us beginning work on a new website and into brainstorming new and innovative ways of meeting with our customers.  Yeah...all good stuff.  But busy.

I am sitting here working working working on my laptop.  It's a gray, wet February afternoon.   Perfect cosy weather.  And yet I just can't relax.  I'm one of those people that always needs to be moving forward in one way or another.  It works perfectly for things like developing new products for work.  I literally have 5 sets in development and most are over halfway done.  I have ideas for 3 or 4 more.  It's like my brain can't stop and I am compelled to comply with this need to always be switched on.

Usually, I think it is a pretty good thing.

But suddenly, two little fingers pop up  over the side of my laptop and I see Henry.  My sweet 9-month-old has been sleeping beside me for the last hour and he's woken up.  I've been mostly oblivious to him sleeping right beside me and it makes me sad.  Sad enough to want to write myself this note.

So this is my note to myself:  All of those other great things--business, homework, hobbies--those all really need to come second.  Yes, I obviously have to do them, but these tiny moments are the lifeblood of being human.  So I am reminding myself to stop sometimes.  I am reminding myself to just sit here and love on my growing-to-fast baby.  I promise myself that I will be more fully-present when my excited 8-year-old comes to me and wants to tell me about the book fair at school.  I will engage with my 15-year-old when he is excited to talk with me.  These moments are all too fleeting.

And they are what I am doing everything else for.