I'm living every parent's dream of being able to go to Target or the grocery store nearly anytime I want sans kids. Yet when I go, I don't waltz through the aisles celebrating my freedom. I see the moms and dads with their toddlers in tow, and part of me wishes I were back in that time.
I know I must be delusional because shopping with kids, especially toddlers, beyond sucks. I don't miss the begging for stuff or the tantrums, of course. I miss the presence of my kids, of talking them quietly through our errand (oddly I rarely recount the many threats and ultimatums I made in those years), and the relief of coming home and being finished with it.
I miss my games of Sorry with Gus, putting together a puzzle with him, snuggling on the couch and reading a look-and-find book.
When I drop off the boys at school, my eyes flash toward the 4K entrance to the school and I wish I could have Gus back with me, at least for part of the day like I did last year. This reverie is no good for me. I know this. And yet it's hard to stop it.
On the last day of our recent trip to Boston, we had to check out of our hotel room early. Mark was still in his conference, and I had an hour to kill sitting in the hotel lobby before we would leave for the airport. I'd already finished the one novel I had brought. I figured I'd just play around on my phone, but for some reason I couldn't connect to the internet.
I began to feel a mild panic. God, what am I going to do for a whole hour? See how quickly I've become addicted to the black hole of my smart phone? I knew I was wise to resist for so long. Reluctantly, I picked up the non-fiction book I'd packed, Full Catastrophe Living by Jon Kabat-Zinn. I didn't exactly feel like being enlightened at that moment.
It's a fat tome about mindfulness-based stress reduction. The subject interests me, and I certainly need this in my life, but I know my track record. Most non-fiction books I buy, I dive in with gusto only to abandon them well before finishing. For all I know, that will be the case with this one, too, but as luck would have it I ended up taking away lots of wisdom in that hour.
What I read helped me put into perspective what I've been feeling and really the way I tend to live my life. The author correctly points out that we humans spend most of our time either thinking about the past or the future. Most of us are rarely fully present in the moments of our lives.
I can attest to this. These past few months, I've been doing a lot of living in the past and fretting about the future. I wish my boys were 2 years old again. What will I be doing two years from now?
Mindfulness and meditation require practice and deliberation. I can't say I've fully embraced this, but I wish to incorporate these practices into my life more consistently.
I have been trying to stay more mindful when spending time with my boys. I realize that some of the pain I feel about the passing of the years is directly correlated with the times that I failed to be more present in my children's growing up.
It's not always easy, but it's worth it. I've tried to let the joy of moments wash over me.
Ben scoring the winning goal at the last game of his soccer tournament. Paul's excitement at planning every detail of his upcoming Minecraft birthday party. Gus hamming it up at the bird show a few weeks ago. My boys are no longer babies or toddlers, but right now is pretty wonderful.
I've had a lot of stress and worry lately with Gus starting medication, and Paul had another seizure over the weekend. I feel the pressure to get everything done for the holidays. I fret about beginning classes and whether I can balance it all and succeed.
Moving forward, I'll keep this passage of the book with me.
"There is an art to facing difficulties in ways that lead to effective solutions and to inner peace and harmony. When we are able to mobilize our inner resources to face our problems artfully, we find we are usually able to orient ourselves in such a way that we can use the pressure of the problem itself to propel us through it, just as a sailor can position a sail to make the best use of the pressure of the wind to propel the boat. You can't sail straight into the wind, and if you only know how to sail with the wind at your back, you will only go where the wind blows you. But if you know how to use the wind's energy and are patient, you can sometimes get where you want to go. You can still be in control."
As we enter this busy season, I hope you and I will take time to be mindful, to live fully in the spectacular (or even not-so-spectacular) now.
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