It’s resolution season, so naturally we’re in the mode of looking ahead. Some of us are focused at shorter term goals (“lose five pounds!”) and some at impossible ones (“lose five pounds!”). Either way, the point is that many of us are gazing into a telescope aimed at a future we hope to achieve.
In our house, our list isn’t any different than the wave of goals that swept through the Internet this past couple of weeks; there’s of course the ubiquitous self-improvement mantras in multiple areas: fitness, career, and family. Our list is long – or at least mine is.
We are also still finding our rhythm as a family with My Guy’s recent jump to self-employment. That is in addition to the couple of other changes that are forming as we speak, but because it hasn’t quite taken shape, I am unable to write about it at length. But we will without a doubt be impacted in a big way.
With changes on the horizon and energy invested in our future, I look into the telescope (and some days, the crystal ball) everyday and worry. And wonder. And worry. And wonder.
However, all the worrying and wondering about the future were preempted by the worrying and wondering for my girls today when one awoke with a severe cough and fever and the other with pink eye. Double whammy! Hey, at least they’re not copycats. Bonus points to them for being creative with their ailments.
I stayed home from work to mama them back to health, and in the act of tending to their immediate needs, it forced me to look at something to which I have not been giving much attention lately. Something called now.
In the season of resolutions, I lost sight of what I already have right in front of me. My eyes, cast towards the distant future for some signs, any signs of good fortune, failed to see the blessings that already enrich my life.
Blessings such as these:
I may not have a shiny Mac (as in Apple computer) to work on but I have Mac (as in Macavity, my favorite kitty) to work with when I’m home.
I may have had my hands full by staying home to work while caring for my ailing girls but at least one of them is old enough to keep herself entertained on the computer (thank you pbs.org) while I accomplished a few things on my task list. I am also aware of how fortunate we are to have the technology that allows for that to happen.
At the age where most preschoolers wage war against their parents during mealtimes, I almost never have to worry about what I feed my preschooler. She would be just as happy with a bowl of rice and curry with spicy okra and opo squash as she would with a bowl of mac and cheese. In fact, sometimes she prefers the former.
Speaking of eating, my 7.5-month-old is finally eating solids! As a food-obsessed mom, I always look forward to feeding my family and when my infant refused food, it was a challenge to me. Thankfully, she has come around, which is partly due to the invaluable care she receives from her very patient and doting paati (grandma), who makes sure Thumper gets the daily nutrition, sleep and play she needs while her parents are at work.
My Guy, who moved on from his nine to five job to chase his dreams, continues to spend countless hours at the computer. When everyone is asleep at home, he toils into the night and the wee hours of the morning to meet client deadlines. It’s hard work, but at least there’s work. And clients.
But he’s no Jack - it’s not all work and no play. Part of giving up the stable income comes with the price of uncertainty but it also means more time with the baby. And when daddy’s around, there will always be smiles, kisses and upside-downs. Now that’s a certainty worth the biweekly paychecks.
Oh, do you see that little sprout on Thumper’s head? It’s her bedhead, which happens from time to time. Whenever she rocks this ‘do, I have a strange urge to call her Petunia. And so I do. My little Petunia, who I also get to see more regularly because of a job that allows flexibility in schedule; something I didn’t have a year ago.
And so with new eyes, thanks to a couple of sick kids (hey I’m all about the half-full), I no longer look wistfully at the future for this mythical wonderful life.
Because really, that life is already here.
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