Do you remember waiting for something when you were a kid? When time seemed to move so slowly, and with each passing day you got more and more excited? A knot of anticipation would form in your stomach, and you would excitedly visualize what it would be like when that blessed event--whatever it was--finally arrived. And when it actually did arrive, the joy would be so great that you would be literally jumping with it.
I've been waiting for this moment for weeks. Since March we have known that we needed to move. We were living in a rent-to-own property, and for various reasons we ended up being unable to buy it, so had to move. We were sad to leave the home we had so many plans for, but were also looking forward to being out of that situation. And so we moved ahead, and in so doing we made plans. Moving is a great time to change things up, and we had lots of things we wanted to change. We cleared out clutter that we didn't want to take with us, and my husband and I decided to set forth some new household rules and routines. We planned to do things right this time. Get up early every morning to work out and spend some time on various hobbies before the kids get up. Wash the dishes and clean the kitchen after supper every night. No eating food anywhere other than the kitchen and dining room. Play outside more. I was filled with anticipation for these new changes coming up, and couldn't wait to be in our new house and start our new (better) life.
We moved into this new life over this past weekend. Now I am sitting at our computer in our new office, in our new finished basement. Yesterday I drove home from work to find my family playing outside in the front yard. Last night we ate supper at the table, and I cleaned the kitchen and washed the dishes afterwards. And this morning I got up early and went for a walk/run, before sitting down to work on this very blog post. Sounds great, right? And it was...kind of. I loved seeing my husband playing outside with our kids, until Logan ran out into the driveway to greet me and I worried about him getting hit by the van. I felt good about getting the kitchen cleaned up, but a little annoyed that I was doing most of it myself (which was stupid, because my husband was not helping only because he was out getting ice cream for everyone). My alarm went off early this morning, and I remembered why I often fail at getting up early. I like to sleep. But I went outside into the early morning air, and reminded myself that I don't like to run. I just like the idea of running. I made my sweating and gasping way back to the house, and stood in the shower wondering what on earth I was going to write about.
I need to be doing all of these things. I need to not live like a pig. I much prefer a tidy, uncluttered house. I need to exercise, not only to lose baby weight but also because my body feels better when it gets regular physical activity. I need to have creative outlets, and time in my day to focus on myself. But sometimes the doing of these things is not filled with jumping-for-joy-happiness. Sometimes it's a struggle to do them. I don't know why it takes discipline to do things I want to do, but it does. The anticipation of looking forward to these plans was so much more thrilling than actually doing them. But having done them fills me with a sense of contentment that is more meaningful than the anticipation could ever be.
I am so glad you are here! Welcome to my blog. This is your space, too. My name is Amy, and I am no stranger to the ups and downs of life. Join me as we search for beauty, authenticity, tell our truth, and hold space for each other in the messiness of life.