Wednesday, January 18, 2017

Year of Try

Guys. It's January 2017. What happened?


We are all old people now. Wrinkles are immaterial to this fact. You are living in 2017. We are space-agey and we talk to our phones when no one is on the other line. We are mature. We are modern. We are legit just because we live here. It's 2017 and we walk around in it like bosses. Or something.

I still feel like the Y2K scare was yesterday. I still think I just got rid of those heavy, thick, masculine sandals we all wore so proudly. I loved those things.

In 2017 I'm going to turn thirty. 3-0.

This blog seems to be all about numbers. Ew. But anyway. I'm turning thirty this year. Like the sandals of yore (AKA the late nineties), I feel like this has passed sort of quickly and I'm not ready.

Mostly because I don't feel like I thought I would feel at thirty. It's... weird. I have found myself leaving things behind that I should have broken up with much sooner and I love that. But I've also started to realize that maturity and richness in life boils down to fewer things than we would have suspected. Like shutting up more often (help), showing up for others more quickly, protecting your margins; shutting down toxic relationships.

There's also a lot of calendar management. Have mercy.

I also feel like I'm roughly 30% less mature and 30% more sarcastic than probably all of my friends. Will you guys PLEASE help me adult because I am just flying by the seat of my pants here.

I decided this year that I was going to try harder at a few things that I had to set aside or do less in the past few years. Things that were important to me, but survival at mom life took precedence.

Being a mom is like... the weirdest job ever. It's not the only job that forces you to think on your feet and be flexible, but it's the only job I know that changes so drastically so frequently.

Years spent holding babies and rock-rock-roooocking for hours to quiet a miserable, colicky, sensitive child that you just can't seem to figure out slowly morph into days with no one in diapers anymore. And for me, that still feels weird. Good weird, but weird nonetheless.

As we've slowly edged forward with our sensory kid, occasionally sliding backwards, adjusting, taping up our skinned knees, dusting off and moving back into forward motion, life has started to become more normal. It happened so gradually that I didn't really know it was happening for a long time, but it did.

So this year as I remember who I am without a person attached to me quite so much, I'm rediscovering old passions and interests, and it actually didn't come easy. I remember sending up quite a few prayers last year that I would enjoy those old things again. Cooking, creating, reading... writing. I even used to enjoy my housework to a point. I found ways to make my routines soothing with music or audiobooks, feeling myself calm as my home came to order under my busy hands. I baked bread because I loved to; sautéed vegetables because they were delicious and pretty.

God answers prayers in odd and mysterious ways, and my husband insisted that we buy a new stove. The dishwasher needed to be replaced, and we would get a better deal on the purchase of two appliances. My oven took roughly 45 minutes to heat up, so I winced at the expenditure and side-eyed my stove and my husband in turn and eventually gave in. It wasn't an expensive stove (as appliances go), but it preheats in 5-6 minutes flat and I'm pretty sure that means it's a sacred and holy thing. HALLELUJAH. What a great way to charge back into my culinary interests. It's been so fun to play with!

So I'm calling it. 2017 is the year of trying just a little harder when I don't quite feel like it yet. I'm already seeing the rewards and I'm so thankful. I know there's a popular saying from Star Wars that basically asserts that "trying" is a cop-out. But that's wrong. Real effort is never a cop-out. Trying hard may fall short of full achievement, but you're always further ahead than you were had you never tried in the first place. So it's cool with me if you want to steal my word of the year, ignoring anyone who calls it a cop-out. It's the year to try - just try your actual best and then see what happens.

Happy new-ish year.