For my 32nd birthday, the universe gifted me a new freckle. Or a mole. It’s probably a mole according to google, but freckle sounds cuter so we’ll stick with that. I haven’t been excited for a birthday in a couple of years. I was so excited for my 30th birthday that we booked a trip to Florida with a bunch of friends, stayed directly on the beach and I partied (as much as one can party with six kids under seven) (which is a lot) until the break of dawn. Epic birthday; and I was so happy and excited to enter a new decade. 31 was less thrilling, and 32 just feels like another day.
Believe it or not, I’ve actually had this blog for an entire year now. I only know because my credit card was charged the yearly fee last week, but I suppose it was like a gift to myself a year ago. When I was a kid I had a diary that had a little lock and key. I’d write about who I was friends with each week and which boy was cute, why I hated my brother and what songs I liked. I hid the diary and I hid the key separately. Nowadays, I pay so that the world might read my diary. I write about my love and “hate” for my own children, parenting, depression, global pandemics and vodka. A lot has changed in 32 years, but I have truly enjoyed the gift that this blog has given me.
Reflection isn’t really my thing. I’d rather focus on forward movement. Why dwell on the past unless there’s something there to learn from? When I pressure myself to consider what I’ve learned over the course of the last 12 months, my mind settles on listening to my own advice.
One of my very least favorite phrases is, “do as I say, not as I do”. Literally no good can come from that. It’s terrible in every way. With that in mind, I think that I give at least halfway decent advice most of that time. Like, give me a solid 83% for good advice and I think that would be fair. Of course I strive for that 100% but no one is perfect, and there’s often vodka involved. So why is it that I have such a hard time listening to that same advice I’ve given to others?
Over the course of the last year I have suggested to my kids, family members, and friends that they might consider things like playing outside for a while, reading a book, finding a place to be quiet and alone to calm down, considering that you might not be the only one who’s hurting at the moment, taking a deep breath, imagining that you are in your spouses shoes, and realizing that this moment in time is not permanent. Speak to your babies as though they are grown, value the time that you have while this person is still with us, forgive and move forward so that we all might have a chance to enjoy our time together, stop worrying about the numbers on the scale and focus on the way that you feel, don’t let another person control your happiness, fight for that raise you deserve, and let yourself acknowledge the heartache and pain you feel but then focus on the joy in front of you. Do not let another person tell you how to live, or tell you that the way you’re living or what you believe is wrong, put a jacket on, hug your wife, call your mom, love yourself, don’t take anyone’s shit, give yourself grace, breathe, and run.
What I have learned in the past year is to listen to my own advice. Just because someone says it’s too much work doesn’t mean I shouldn’t do it if it’s important to me. When seasonal depression hits hard, it will not help to tell others to go outside, I must also go outside myself. Put a jacket on, and stand in the freezing cold sunlight. Take a walk. Breathe deeply. Close my eyes. Put my sneakers on first thing in the morning so that I am half-way motivated to go for a run even after trudging through an arduous breakfast time with three kids. Just because your family celebrates differently does not diminish the traditions that I hold so dear to my heart. Do not change to fit in. Wear what is comfortable and makes me feel good. Drink the stupid water that we all know we’re supposed to drink but that I am epically terrible at drinking. Drive an hour to the beach in the middle of winter alone with the kids, take a million gorgeous photos and share them with no one. Be honest with my husband, even when it’s difficult. Ask questions. Request a raise. Put the freaking phone down. Stop being so hard on everyone. Stop being so hard on myself. Just because someone tells me that my son cannot possibly replicate the soul of my late Grampa does not mean that person is right. Not everyone is right. Not even me. Give myself grace. Above all, give myself grace.
Life is weird. With no downs there would be no ups, right? So acknowledge the downs and embrace the ups. Drink the water so you can drink the vodka. Clean the kitchen so you’ll sleep better at night. Put the phone down so your kids see your eyeballs. Read a book so your brain doesn’t turn to mush. Ask questions even if the answers might be tough to hear. Call your Grandma even if you have nothing to say. Try a new recipe and then order a pizza. Apologize even if you don’t fully understand what you’ve done to hurt someone and then try your very best to understand. Set the coffee to auto-brew. Reach out to that random person you haven’t spoken to in months just to say hello, and that you’re thinking of them. Try to be self aware, even when that means accepting faults. Give yourself grace.
I commit to a life of sustained improvement. If you cannot be better, then you must be done. And I’m certainly not done, so let’s see how chapter 32 develops together.
