As I write this, I’m thinking of all the things in this house that are screaming at me.
The dishwasher cries to be emptied.
There’s a package on the doorstep.
And there’s a brand-new desk sitting in a box, waiting to be built, so we can finally finish my husband’s office.
But here I am writing.
(And of course, there’s a literal baby. Yep, the birth went great, and he’s now almost two months old! He screams a lot too, naturally.)
Let me tell you, writing when it feels like my house is falling apart is not a natural step for me. I’ve always felt like everything must be in order before I can indulge in fun stuff or personal projects. It’s a habit that gave me great grades—and a really boring college experience. Seriously, I attended a whopping total of one (ONE) college party. And I begged to go home the whole time so I could get enough sleep for class the next day. 🙄
Having a kid, though, has transformed this tendency from “annoying quirk that makes me boring at parties” to “oh god this habit will be the death of me.” Turns out there’s always another load of laundry. It’s wizardry, really. The chores pile up fast when you’re tethered to a helpless life form. For the past two months, my days have consisted of baby-chore-baby-chore-baby-chore HELP.
But I’ve finally paused long enough to realize: I could spend every day of my life tending to the home, and to my child, all the while dreaming about the things I want to do. Or I could accept that “no one’s hurt” and “everyone ate dinner” is often good enough, and I can actually do the things that feel like oxygen after being underwater for so long.
Personally, I like the second option.
So this is a message for the over-stressed, the “hard workers,” the people who have a to-do list a mile long:
What are the tasks you tell yourself you have to do before you can allow yourself to rest or play?
What would happen if you let those things slip—a little or a lot—so you could prioritize the things that make you actually come alive?
Because I’ll bet your world wouldn’t fall apart nearly as much as you think it might.
We must do what we must do. Work is important, babies gotta eat, etc. But let’s be honest—there will always be another dishwasher to empty. Another email to send.
This day, however, will only happen once. Maybe it’s okay to actually live it, if only just a little bit.
Cheers from the trenches,