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January Photo Challenge

You guys? ZOMG, you guys!   This is it!  This is the LAST photo-a-day challenge for us.  What started on a whim one February has developed (pun intended) into a daily diary of photo snaps and fun times.  Have you been consistent in taking your pictures every day? Have you had fun with it at least? I know I have.

The first few months, I looked to pre-made photo challenges to try, but by June, I decided that I would create my own challenges.  I did my best to be creative and to inspire others to think outside the box with their photos.  I truly looked forward to my IG newsfeed everyday.

Now that I have these 365 images, what to do? what to do?  I’m leaning heavily towards making a photo book via This Life or Printsagram.  Just my own little souvenir of this adventure.  I do have my tumblr where I have been keeping track of my snaps, but I’d like to have something to hold in my hands and thumb through in the future.

Would I do this again? I liked how it forced me to stop and think about what was going on around me.  I liked how creative I could be when it came to certain words.  I liked how easy it could be when it came to others.  I even liked laughing at myself for all the botched selfies I took trying to get one that was worth posting.

So, here it is. The January Photo A Day Challenge courtesy of Hilary with One L. 

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For those of you unfamiliar with the Photo A Day Challenge, I’ve provided you with a list of prompts or suggestions for each day of the month.  On the designated day, you snap a photo of the suggestion or a photo of your interpretation of the suggestion and post it to Instagram.  You can add a caption to your photo, as well as the hashtag #hilarywithonel so we can keep up with you.  If you input #hilarywithonel in the Instagram search box, you’ll be able to see what others have already posted.

These monthly challenges are part of my greater year long challenge to take one photo a day.  You can follow my progress here: f/365

Don’t beat yourself up if you miss a day. It’s just a fun way to be creative.  No penalties for missed days, and no prize for hitting all the days – well, satisfaction is a prize in and of itself right?

Snap on, my friends, snap on.

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IN: ON: December 31, 2013 TAGS: , , , BY: Hilary
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C is for Cynic

Last week, I realized that I was really close to matching, and possibly surpassing, the number of posts I wrote last year.  I think I had about eight left to tie, nine to go for the win.  Pretty achievable considering how many days were left in the year. Plus, I knew one of the posts was going to be a gimme because it would be the photo challenge for January.

And then, the Christmas reached out and punched me in the face.  In the days leading up to Christmas, I  bought groceries, I wrapped presents. I bought more groceries, I wrapped more presents. I prepped Christmas dinner while running multiple loads of laundry. I roller set M and C’s hair while playing peek-a-blocks with V and trying to clear a constant tickle from my throat.  I did two photos shoots (yay!), addressed and mailed a dozen more cards, wrangled a Z pack from my GP to stave off the impending flu and then face planted on the couch December 24th.  The 25th came in, gut checked me, and leaving me with tinsel in my hair, wrapping paper stuck to my shoe,  and peppermint on my breath.  I didn’t write word one, let alone squeeze out multiple posts. 

Now it’s the 27th and I’m like, “Meh, there’s always next year.”

Ahhh, next year.

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A mere five days away and we will all be bombarded with words of inspiration, hope, motivation and change. Facebook, Instagram, Tumblr, Twitter — all social media outlets will spew out memes and twee-grams of goals, work-out plans, promises to love oneself and one another.

Yes, I’m a big ol’ cynic.  I have tried in years past to set goals for myself in the never-ending quest for self perfection.  I’ve vowed to be more patient, to be more kind to myself, to work out more,  and to eat less.  I’ve made motivational boards, actual pin-boards in the pre-Pinterest days, of things that I wanted to achieve or possess.  I’ve got so many bucket lists, you’d think I’ve got nine lives.

Three years ago, as I was about to lace up my kicks for another run around the ol’ hamster wheel of unrealistic goals, I decided that I simply wouldn’t do it.   I got tired of the whole “New-Year-New-Me” mentality. I’d tried it.  New Year’s like a fresh start bonanza, but  I’ve flamed out spectacularly year after year.  And sadly,  my goals weren’t even that far reaching.

New Year’s Resolutions of Years Past:

  • Floss.
  • Remember to floss.
  • Remember to leave the floss out so that you will remember to floss. 
  • Eat less red meat.
  • Only eat red meat on Tuesdays and Thursdays.
  • Eat less dessert.
  • Only eat dessert if you’re willing to share it with the children.
  • It’s okay if the children have their own dessert several times a week.
  • Write at least three times a week.
  • Get off Facebook (for reals this time).
  • Be more patient, especially with yourself. And the children. And the Hubs. And humanity in general. You don’t know what battles someone is fighting.

Crash and burn.  I’m done with self-improvement. It’s all about maintaining the status quo.  My expectations of other people, of things, of life in general, are too high. I expect more from others because I am willing to do that much for them.  So, how do you solve a problem like that?  Well,  if I keep the bar where it was last year (low, low, low), I won’t be disappointed if I don’t honor my resolutions.  In other words, I’m resolving to keep it real.  I’m going to try not to make things worse and if in the process I end up bettering myself, well, Hilary with One L for the Win.

So, here’s to keeping the expectations around knee level. And who knows, maybe in the next few days, I’ll have revised the whole thing and resolved to be less cynical.

That’s setting the bar kind of high, though.

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IN: ON: December 27, 2013 TAGS: , , , BY: Hilary
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Ho! Ho! Ho Boy!

I don’t usually weigh on when news pundits make gaffes. By the time I’m caught up on the latest attack of foot-in-mouth by some talking head, it’s because I saw it on SNL on Hulu a week after the fact.  This time, however, the story to which I’m referring is a gift that keeps on giving:  Megyn Kelly of Fox News and her insistence that Santa (and Jesus, but I’m not touching that) is white.

*le sigh* and full body eye roll so intense, I now have six pack abs (there’s a Christmas miracle !).

The social media outlets all but imploded as tweets, memes, and Vines exploded, thoroughly trashing Kelly.  Kelly trying to backpedal defend herself, tried running the “race-baiting” flag up the pole, heartily waving it while touting that the whole thing was “just a joke”.

Sorry, Kelly, but there’s always truth in humor.  And guess what? Your truth came through loud and clear.

Look, if you think that Santa — who for the record is a mythical concoction — is white, good for you.  In my family, we believe that Santa is Black.   I have gone to great lengths to maintain this belief for my children, searching for a Santa who looks like us for quite some time.

Have You Seen This Man?
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Six years ago, I was desperate to find a Black Santa for the children.  While M and C never flat out asked me if Santa was Black, I never said he wasn’t.  We’re Black, ergo, Santa would be, too.  As it turned out, finding a Black Santa was as elusive as a same day reservation at the French Laundry. 
It shouldn’t have been that way, especially considering the rate at which society is becoming more and more multi-ethnic, but there it is.

At that time,  in the holiday department in Dillard’s at the MacArthur Mall, there was a tree that was decorated with all Black Santa’s, Black Ballerina’s, and other Black-centric ornaments. Right after Thanksgiving, my mother stumbled upon that tree and excitedly told the clerk on the floor how wonderful the tree was. She then went on to ask where and when the Black Santa would be coming to town. The clerk, who was also Black, said something like, “Blah, blah, blah, there isn’t one”. Not one to be dissuaded, my mom, who I think was Nancy Drew in a former life, set out to find one.  She said she was doing it for her granddaughters, but I know deep down, she wanted to see Black Santa, too.
Fast forward to the 1st of December. Evidently, there WAS a Black Santa, and he was going to be at the Newsome House in Newport News on December 8rd — FOR ONE DAY ONLY. Sadly, we didn’t make it to that event that year.  I really wanted to make this Santa thing happen for the children, and  even went so far as to suggest to the Hubs to rent a Santa suit, dress up for our girls, snap a few pics and then return the suit!! Or keep it for next year, whatever. Shoot, if word got out that we had a Black Santa, consider Christmas paid for! Yeah, that didn’t happen.

The following year, I was determined to make a visit with a Black Santa happen for the children.  As soon as October rolled around, I put the Newsome House on speed dial, constantly pestering them for information about the Soulful Christmas Celebration.  When the information was released, I was told that there would be a Black Santa present and the Soulful Christmas Celebration would only be for Saturday during the month of December.  Well, I made sure that we were there like stripes on a candy cane.  And yes children, there was a Santa Claus that looked like us! There were some other things that went down at the Soulful Christmas that undercut the Santa, but that’s a post you can revisit here. 

I was disappointed as to how that experience turned out for the girls. I wanted to find a legit Santa to which they could relate.  I stopped referring to Santa as “Black Santa”, because it implied that there was more than one who was of another hue.  I impressed upon the girls that Santa is/was whatever the family imagines him to to be.  Plain and simple.  For us, Santa looks like a member of our family.  Nowadays, when the girls see another Santa out and about, it doesn’t phase them.  They gladly take proffered candy canes and chucks under the chin.  They smile coquettishly at any jolly, giant in a red suit, young or old, thin or fat, white, brown or in between. Highly sought after presents are on the line, amirite?

This year, I decided that I was going to not only find a Santa, but host a Santa breakfast for one of C’s playgroups.  Yeah, it’s not like I have anything else to do.  Once again, I started searching in October, calling up the African American cultural society and searching the Internet for leads to Soulful Christmas celebrations in my area.  As luck would have it, there is a gentleman who portrays Santa and he was more than willing to come to the Santa Breakfast.  He and I had a lovely conversation at the end of which he closed by saying, “Uh, you do know that I’m African American, right? Some folks don’t like that.”

*ahem* side eye at Megyn Kelly.  

I’m not going to sit here and give you a lecture about the origins of Saint Nicholas, Santa Claus, Père Noël, Papa Christmas, Krampus, Pai Natal or Kris Kringle.  Different parts of the world celebrate this time of year differently, but the fact remains that the celebrations are unique to those individuals.  None of us have the right and should never have the umititigated gall to tell another what they practice and believe is wrong.  Of course, people do it and I could point to the Pandora’s box of political behavior throughout the course of history, but it’s Christmas.  I’m trying to keep things light.

My older girls are at an age when their belief in fairy tales and childhood folklore is is tenuous at best.  I will do whatever I can to keep the magic alive.  When they ask me if I believe in Santa, I don’t hesitate to say yes.  When they ask me why there are so many different looking Santas, I tell them that Santa is the embodiment of good will, caring, love, and the best parts of every family. 

A few week-ends before Christmas, Santa came to town and sat in my living room looking very much like the best parts of my family. 

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I do believe in Santa Claus. I do, I do, I do.
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IN: ON: December 17, 2013 TAGS: , , BY: Hilary
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O’ Tannenbaum

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Last Sunday, the Hubs and Co went to select a Christmas tree for our living room.  Usually, we make it a family affair.  This year, we looked at the logistics of it all and decided, since we weren’t trekking into the woods to chop it down ourselves, there was no need for all of us to get in the car, go to the AC Moor parking lot and pick a tree from the adjacent pop up lot.

The Hubs got the tree in the house, in the stand and up.  The girls were giddy with excitement as they were beyond ready to decorate.  The tree, though, had been bound up for a bit, so we had to wait for the branches to fall and we promised the girls they could decorate the tree on: 

Monday
The Hubs goes away on business and the girls go to school. I do my normal routine of carpool, gym, errands and so forth and wait for the tree to open up.  As I’m looking at it, I see that it’s kind of crooked, but that can be fixed when the Hubs comes home.  By mid afternoon, the branches have fallen and I decide to string up the lights. I pull down two under-bed storage boxes and one large tote from the attic and begin the process.  Now, I know I should have probably plugged the lights in before attempting to string up the tree, but the lights worked last year, which is why they were neatly bundled in the box when I opened it this year. I get down to work, and think that I can get it covered with two strands.  Nope.  I get the third strand strung, plug it in and they don’t work.  The top two thirds of the tree are lit, but the bottom third looks pathetic.  I try to McGyver some lights from the strand, turn the tree towards the fireplace and basically, try to fake it with the lights.  Nope. It’s not gonna happen. 

I undo the lights and reach for another set.  This set, though, is strung on white wire, whereas the first set was strung on green.  There’s a reason why I buy green wired lights.  The white wired lights work best for photo shoots and as props.  They have no place on a green Christmas tree. . .at least not in my house. It looks crazy like that glue.  What a mess.  So, I unstring the tree (again). 

I pick up the box with the green wired lights and put it in my car for my weekly run to Target, which will happen on:

Tuesday
I go to Target and try to match up lights.  The box from home says I need Phillips lights, style  D8.  I go to Target, where they kindly have the different light styles displayed.  I find Phillips lights, style D8 and they are not the lights that I have at home.  Seriously? My lights have clear bulbs, these lights have frosted bulbs.  I do an eye roll so massive,  it straightened my hair.

I look at the different styles — C3, A2, B3, D7 and none of them are what I want. Colored lights, Cool White Lights, Twinkling Warm Lights, and on and on and on.  So finally, I just say, Bah Humbug! and pick up the D8 lights with the frosted bulbs.

I get home and do the first set of lights. Not a nice as the clear bulbs, but whatever. If you step back, you can’t really tell and the tree is starting to come together. I unwind the second strand and around and around the tree I go.  I unwrap the third strand and wind it around.  I plug it all in, step back and good googly-moogly! The top two thirds of the tree are warm white lights, and the last third of the tree is swathed in cool lights.  What. the. devil.

Santa is testing me.

For those of you who don’t know the difference, the warm lights are a soft, buttery glow like bulb.  The cool lights are a bright, clear white spark of light.  They can’t mix. . .not on my tree. It looked crazy.  So, I unstring the tree.  Again.

Oh, and the tree is still crooked.  I don’t worry about that because the Hubs will be home that evening and we’ll sort that out. Only, the Hubs calls and says he won’t be home tonight after all.  The girls still want to decorate the tree.  I don’t want to let them down, so I call my neighbor to come over and help me.

She comes over and recognizes that the base that we have is the same one she has at her house. Progress!  So we push, pull, and cajole the tree into an upright position.

Then it falls over.

thwump!

 And a big ass butterfly shoots out — I’m not kidding — and alights on the wall.

I suppose I should count my blessings that it was a butterfly and not a bird or a bat, however, I like wildlife in the wild, not appropriating portions of my living room.  My neighbor and I stand around looking at this thing for a while, thinking it’s a Blue Morpho or something. I turn to my neighbor and say, “It’s just gonna have to stay there.”  It was too big to squish and while I’m not afraid of insects, I prefer them in their own space doing their own thing at a great distance from me. 

We get the tree upright, say goodnight to the butterfly, and I put the boxes of lights  back in the car for another trip to Target on:

Wednesday:
I tell the Hubs what has transpired regarding the tree, the butterfly and everything else and I’m sure that he thinks I’m just making things up.  When I get home from dropping the girls off at school, he has made it home from his trip.  I go in the house and see that the butterfly is gone and when I find the Hubs, I remark on that.

Me: Oh, you got rid of the butterfly!

Him: (blank stare) What butterfly?

*shudder* Oh, it’s loose in the house! Okay, I can’t worry about that now, so I persuade the Hubs to help me straighten the tree before he leaves for work.  The girls are going to get this tree decorated today! This is ridiculous. 

We work on the tree. We rotate the trunk, we adjust the base, and finally! We get it upright and relatively straight.  I think the tree just has a gangsta lean that no amount of prodding is going to correct.  The Hubs gives me and V a kiss goodbye and heads out the door. We’re on his heels as it is now time to get the older girls from school.  Just as I’m about to leave, I hear this weird, rhythmic buzzing sound coming from the living room.

Like a dummy, I go investigate.

The butterfly is furiously beating its wings against the window in an attempt to escape and the sound is like nothing I’ve ever heard before.  I am at the point of my day where if I dawdle any more, I will be grossly late for carpool.

So, I tip my hat to the butterfly and head to school.  I get the kids, exchange the Phillips lights for Target brand and head home.

No butterfly. But the tree is still upright! I test the lights before I unwind them and put them on the tree.  All the lights work! The girls start decorating. For every ornament M and C put on, V takes one off.  Finally, the tree is trimmed. The tree skirt is around the tree and not C’s shoulders. The butterfly is no where to be seen, which is kind of too bad.  We could really use a tree topper.

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IN: ON: December 13, 2013 TAGS: , , , BY: Hilary
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Wishin’ and Hopin’

The more the days go by, the more we are inundated with all things Christmas.  The radio stations, the decor in the stores, the commercials — ugh, the commercials!  We are trying to keep things low-key around here, but it’s been a challenge.  If the girls had their way, our house would be top to bottom holiday paraphernalia, lights and music, with fake Santa feet sticking out of the chimney top AND bottom.

I pulled out our few little holiday decor items.  We’ve got a countdown calendar, as well as a trio of snowmen and nutcrackers hanging out on the mantel.  There’s a snowman bowl on the kitchen table, a Happy Holidays cookie jar (minus the cookies, sadly), and a pair of well wishing country snowmen on the mail table. Notice a pattern here? As a newlywed,  I was all about starting a collection of snowmen decor for my future family home.  A few years went by and my enthusiasm melted along with the seasonal precipitation.  I hung onto a few pieces, but never really got back into it the way I had in the beginning.  Once the children arrived, I found myself moving things out of reach or corralling things off from grabby hands.  The idea of decorating around that lost its appeal.  I put up a wreath on the front door, individual candle lights in all of the windows, and called it good.

I do holiday cards. I made (yes, made and this is BEFORE Pintrest) a Santa countdown calendar out of grocery bags and cotton balls.  Every year, we dance around the house to “All I Want For Chirstmas Is You” by Mariah Carey and we make Christmas cookies.  Some times we decorate the tree while drinking hot chocolate and eating popcorn. Sometimes I do it all by myself. I’m consistently inconsistent with what we choose to do from one year to the next, but at least we do something.

This year, we are hosting a little get together for one of the playgroups to which the children belong.  Would you belive I found a Black Santa to come to the house and visit with the children? I know! Submit my paperwork for Mother of the Year, please.  I’m confident that this Santa is going to be head and shoulders over the 2010 Black Santa/Puppet show.

The girls have been working on their Christmas lists.  It’s funny to see the evolution of their penmanship and their desires over the course of the years.  M is direct and to the point, no messing around.

 Yes, that says a $100 iTunes giftcard.  I’m surprised about the Barbies and the Bride and Groom doll.  Last week, she was all about Monster High and My Little Pony Equestria Girls.  There’s also the extensive book wishlist she came up with the last time we were at Barnes and Noble. Funny, that’s not on the list.

As for C. . .she cracks me up.

A box of chocolates (Ok, Forest Gump.), $100 iTune gift card, a violin and a silk dress with a robe to go with it.  I’m thinking that last one is a peignoir or something. She had been in my mom’s dresser the last time we visited and came out wearing a satin dressing gown looking like Madame Butterfly.  Well, we’ll see what happens. Oh, and I almost forgot. She keeps asking for a mystery gift, but won’t say exactly what that is.  She just wants another gift that isn’t on the list.  That leaves it open to interpretation, but I’m guessing she’s thinking of something that lights up, beeps, or requires batteries as opposed to, say, new underwear or socks.

And V? She’ll get some clothes, some books, but really? I’ve forgotten what kinds of things you  buy for almost 2 year olds.  Given that she has two older sisters and access to their stuff, she really isn’t into the Leapfrog Learning Table or the Peek-A-Blocks that would be my go-to items for her. 

I don’t want to totally go overboard with toys and games and stuff whose novelty will wear off before the wrapping paper hits the garbage can.  However, I don’t want anyone to be disappointed on Christmas Day.  I’ve got that all Angel and Devil thing going on — on the one hand, let’s remember the reason for the season. On the other hand, I want to give my kids great memories of Christmas morning.  That’s not to say the two are mutually exclusive, but you know what I mean.  I feel like Kronk — and if you don’t know this movie, we’re going to have to break up until you watch it.

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I’ve got about two weeks before I toss in the towel.  I’ve already selected the gifts for our Angel Tree recipients and that liked to kill me!  I don’t know why it was so hard picking something out from a list that practically spelled out what the kids wanted.  Again, I didn’t want any disappoint on Christmas.  The Hubs and I are going to exchange gifts this year, too.  We’re keeping it small and putting a cap on the amount we can spend. He gave me a few ideas and I’m trying to cull my Amazon wishlist into something reasonable. What I need is for him to put a parental control on my computer so that I’ll stop fooling around with BuzzFeed, Twitter, Tumblr, Gawker, Jezebel, Refinery529, Celebitchy and everything else that keeps me from writing.  I’ll put that on the list, along with a nap, and a Chipotle gift card and it could be a very Merry Christmas Indeed.

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IN: ON: December 8, 2013 TAGS: , BY: Hilary
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Week-end Wrap Up & December Photo Challenge

 You guys.  I have thoroughly enjoyed this Thanksgiving holiday.  We went home to my parents house where we celebrated with all kinds of food, family and fun.  On Friday, I bypassed all the shopping madness for sitting around with  my kiddos, reading, watching TV and consuming mass quantities of pie.  My brother and The Hubs took me to the movies where we watched “The Best Man Holiday” in the tiniest theater the cineplex had.  We were practically sharing seats, and when the woman behind us wouldn’t stop talking, I didn’t let the holiday spirit prevent me from shushing her.  Oh, she got indignant about it, but wharves.  I believe her actual words were, “What?! Did she just shush me?! I’mma keep on talking!” and funny enough, after that outburst, she actually shut the hell up.  Nice.

Saturday brought some sisterly relations with one of my young sorors. It was great to sit around just talking about our respective collegiate experiences.  I squeezed in a manicure and got both Mo and Co’s hair washed, conditioned and twisted before The Hubs and I went to a wedding for one of his frat brothers.  The wedding brought several college friends together, and confirmed for me that we are at a stage in our lives where we are not the kids any more, but not quite the grownups.  We’re straddling this line of adulthood.  Our parents have moved up a row, so to speak, now that the majority of our grandparents are passing.  That means, my generation is filling in that vacated row.  Not sure how I feel about that.  The Hubs turned to me while we were sitting listening to the prelude music at the wedding and commented on how, this is an instance where we’re at a wedding where we don’t know anyone aside from the bride and groom.  Considering we went to 10 weddings in the two years after college graduation, that’s something.  When we did connect with some other buddies at the reception, we clung to them like grim death.  Well, let’s just say, it was nice to sit and talk with folks we already knew rather  make small talk with “How do you know the bride/groom?” type table mates.  It could have gone either way, and I don’t doubt we’d have had a good time in either case.

So, that brings me to today.  December 1st.  Kind of fitting the first day of the month, the end of the Thanksgiving week-end, and the beginning of the next holiday starts on the first.  It’s a clean slate, and I like that.  I have completely wrung the fun out of Thanksgiving. I’ve eaten, drank, haven’t exercised, stayed up late, fed my kids junk food while their hands fused to their iTouches and their eyes glazed over from the steady stream of My Little Pony Equestria Girls.  It’s been awesome.  And now, I’m hitching up my pants (which surprisingly still fit) and looking to getting the Christmas season underway.

It’s December, and do you know what that means?!

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Two more months. . .two more months and we will have successfully completed the 365 day, 12 month photo challenge.  I know, I’m a little premature in the celebrations, but why not get excited about this penultimate event and the fact that I used the word “penultimate” properly.  Whoo-hooo!

For those of you unfamiliar with the Photo A Day Challenge, I’ve provided you with a list of prompts or suggestions for each day of the month.  On the designated day, you snap a photo of the suggestion or a photo of your interpretation of the suggestion and post it to Instagram.  You can add a caption to your photo, as well as the hashtag #hilarywithonel so we can keep up with you.  If you input #hilarywithonel in the Instagram search box, you’ll be able to see what others have already posted.

These monthly challenges are part of my greater year long challenge to take one photo a day.  You can follow my progress here: f/365

Don’t beat yourself up if you miss a day. It’s just a fun way to be creative.  No penalties for missed days, and no prize for hitting all the days – well, satisfaction is a prize in and of itself right?

Snap on, my friends, snap on.

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IN: ON: December 1, 2013 TAGS: , , , , BY: Hilary
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Busy as a. . .

The other day, I had been talking about how I was doing my best to take things slow. I had found myself sitting at my desk with half a dozen different things spread out before me.  I end up doing a little of this, a little of that and a whole lot of nothing ever gets completed in it’s entirety.  Then I get frustrated that I haven’t made the best use of my time, create a new “to-do” list and vow to double down on the productivity the next day.  Guess what happens?  Same thing.  It’s like Groundhog Day for the Type A among us.  So, like I said, I’m trying to slow down. 

For instance, right now, I’ve just got my computer on and nothing else. Don’t know where the phone is (that’s good and bad, I guess), iPad is on the floor, my planner is closed (hallelujah!) and I’m just focusing on what is in front of me.  I’ve been considering why it is so difficult for me to just do one thing at a time.  Ironically, I find myself telling the children to do one thing at a time several times a day.  Or, I remind them that I can only do one thing at a time when I’m trying to put away groceries, make dinner, empty the dishwasher, change a poopie diaper, and braid some hair when they ask me to read them a story.  Times like those, I really should drop everythign and read the story — there’s going to be a day when they’ll stop asking.  That’s the reason why I will still pick up my 48 pound 8 year old when she asks me to hold her; one day, she might not let me.  But, I’m going off in an entirely different direction. 

I was talking about slowing down.  I fall prey to the Idol of Busyness far too often.  “‘The Idol of Busyness'” you ask? “Hilary with One L, what is that?”  Basically, in our tech filled, immediate gratification desirous lives, we have fallen down to worship at the Idol of Busyness. We take pride in how overcommitted, strung out, over worked, over shceuled, and over accomplished we are.  This notion of idolatry isn’t something that I came up with.  It was a concept I heard in church about six years ago that burrowed into my subconcious and took root.  When I am in the eye of the storm of commitments and responsibilites, the idea of the Idol of Busyness burbles up to the forefront of my mind, totally unbidden by my consciousness.  I’m convinced that when I’m in danger of spiraling into self-aggrandizement of how much I’ve done, the Idol pops up to remind me to come back to center.

Another spoke on this wheel is my (former) need to justify what I do because I am a mom who works from home.  Keeps your knickers on, Edith — this isn’t about to be a SAHM vs. Working Mom debate.  I’m just talking about me and MY OWN perceptions of myself.  I used to — thankfully, not so much anymore — spew forth every little detail of what I did over the course of a day when The Hubs would come home from work. It was like, “Ooh, ooh! Look what I did! And then look what I did! See, it’s good that I’m at home with the kids!”  It was like I had to prove to him that I hadn’t been sitting on the couch eating bon-bons all day — as if that’s even possible with kids underfoot.  As the girls got older, and B.V. (before Vivi), I would do the same thing when I would meet people whose eyes would glaze over upon learning I didn’t work outside of the home.  I would list my CV, my volunteer experience, my memberships in organizations, and where I saw myself in ten years.  All of these things were futile attempts to to impress and engage with people who I was probably never going see except for annual holiday functions.

I thought the more I filled up my day, the more things I did, the more I checked off my list and the busier I became, well, then I was a real person.  I was a person worth paying attention to.  I was just as busy as you, as him, as her because my time was SO busy, just like yours, his and hers.

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 The number of things I do in a given day doesn’t make me better or worse than anyone else. I’m not getting validation for that; I’m getting tired, and how tired I am isn’t something I’m going to be rewarded for.  There’s no prize for overflowing your waking hours with commitments and engagements that leave you worn out and run down.  As we enter into this holiday season, there will be a great temptation to out-Pinterest one another in holiday swag, gift giving for teachers and service providers, and meal preparation.  There will always be something that has to be done on our never ending to-do lists.  The best we can do is take each day, each activity as it comes and hope for the best. Of course, always have a plan B and a nice set of hand soaps pre-wrapped for an unexpected hostess gift. 

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IN: ON: November 19, 2013 TAGS: , , , BY: Hilary
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