This is the first blog I’ve posted in a week. But you know what I’ve decided? It’s Christmas and once a week is good enough for now.
I find myself saying that a lot these days: “It’s good enough.”
I am not, by nature, an overly easy-going person. (You’re shocked, I know.) I am not perpetually laid back. That is Mike’s role. I make sure things get done and he makes sure I don’t get too stressed out in the process. A common exchange in our home goes something like this:
“Eh, don’t worry, Meg, it will all get done.”
“It doesn’t get done, Mike. Someone has to do it.“
We know we’re both right, so we roll our eyes at each other and go about our day.
But all of a sudden, I find myself caring a whole lot less about the details. When we burned the stuffing on Thanksgiving
, I doused it in gravy and declared, “It’s still good!” I figured there was plenty of other food to enjoy. And if there wasn’t enough food, at least there was plenty of beer and wine, so people probably wouldn’t notice anyway.
As I prepared for a potluck lunch with some girlfriends over the weekend, I decided to try a brand new recipe — peppermint bark
. It was supposed to look like this:
It actually looked like this:
Perhaps I need to improve my presentation/photography skills, too.
Two years ago, I might have run out to buy more chocolate to try it a second time. To let the dark chocolate set up more before pouring the white chocolate over top to avoid the resulting swirl.
But I hardly have the time and energy now to do something like this once let alone twice. So instead, I decided my bark actually looked pretty cool and I called out “Good enough!” to the empty kitchen.
That’s what having a kid does to your perspective on life. The stuffing might have been a black, crispy rock, but my kid was struggling with his impending molars, and that is where my focus was. That peppermint bark might not have looked overly impressive, but it was really just an excuse to catch up with some friends and hold their babies for a couple hours.
Parenting in an exercise in time and energy management. Suddenly, there are fewer hours in the day to do twice as much as you had to do before. You have to figure out what is important (teaching your kid how to dish out a solid, respectable high five) and what can wait (the mail that is piling up on my kitchen counter).
We may or may not have time to get this guy a haircut before Christmas.
But either way, he’s still cute.