Amount to Greatness. Do Nothing.

Oh, the art of doing nothing.  Won’t you come stay at my house?  I so envy folks who are able to just be.  I try to be.  As my little guy grows and we get closer to his birth day, I’ve made a daily commitment to praying, reading meditation and birth literature, and to well, sleeping.  Staying calm and at ease is where I want to be . . . it’s where I wanted to be for a long time, but it’s a place very hard for me to find.  Nowadays, most of the time, I do feel happy.  I do feel at peace.  And judging by my little guy’s womb workouts, which tend to be pretty gentle, I think I may be doing a good job at giving him a peaceful atmosphere.

Still, every now again (okay, at least once a week and usually daily), I find myself getting a little nutty.  I wake up early, fit in a morning walk, rush home to get chores done and then rush out the door with Annabelle to be on time to this or that event (usually ballet, a playdate, my midwifery appointment, or a kids’ show of some sort).  I have to be honest.  Rushing makes me miserable.  It does.  I get tense, I feel frantic, and often I feel like a mommy that I do not want to be.  On the other hand, I notice, when I walk slower, move slower, and model my observations after that of my 2 year old (she’ll stop to pick up a baby acorn or step up onto a curb or banister to walk along it, teetering along, just so), I find that I see more, smile more and just well, feel happier.  Being an uptight, on-the-go-rushing-about-mommy may sometimes feel good (I can look at all that we’ve done in a day and think, wow, how did we manage all that in a day?), but often it leaves me, and more importantly, my daughter and husband feeling exhausted.  Our best days,  I hear my husband tell me again and again, are those days when taking a walk, a nap, and a swim in the pool are our major accomplishments.   He is so right. Doing nothing can amount to greatness.

And doing nothing is so underrated.  My own models for doing were classic, puritanical, hard workers, who I suspect felt guilty if they just lounged around.  Growing up I watched both my parents work long hours, return home to work more around our house (my mother washed our floors daily and did laundry while my father had ongoing wood working projects and other house projects going on at all times), and then collapse into bed at night so that they could repeat the previous day all over again.  While I admired their spirit for doing, I also wondered what we, as a family, might be missing out on.  Did we ever just sit around in a room together, doing nothing, maybe reading, maybe drawing, maybe just making up stories or songs, without the television playing in the background?  Did my mother ever enjoy a meal without simultaneously reading a book or the newspaper? Um, no.  Relaxing meant sitting and starting at a television while “decompressing” and not really talking all that much.  Or it meant that one or both of my parents had pressed their bodies and minds so hard with work that a day of rest came around because they were both absolutely, positively sick, tired and unable to move.  As much as I love and admire both of my parents (and understand much of their need for such a work ethic), I look back and wonder, couldn’t we have done less?

For those of you who know me or follow my “goings-on” here on my blog, you know that I am a stay-at-home mom.  Some may think that my present calling in life (stay at home mom and everyday thinker) is something of a vacation (it isn’t), others may find that being able to stay at home and raise one’s children is commendable, while others may have a whole variety of opinions about stay-at-home parents.  To be honest, I really don’t care what any of you think.  Even those of you who might say that what I am doing by being at home with my children is the best thing ever, well, that’s great, and I agree with you, but what it comes down to is, it doesn’t really matter.  So what does?  I have to say, what matters to me right now, is how I feel about my life’s work and also what my husband and daughter think about it (luckily, they both seem to like having me right where I am).  I see my place in life as one that is fortunate (my husband pays our bills, tells me to focus on our family, and encourages me to lead our daughter on daily adventures . . . I am probably one of the luckiest gals alive to have a husband like him), however, I also see a great deal of value in the work I do.  Being the one who is at my daughter’s service at almost every instant of the day is, in my eyes, one of the highest callings in life.  Admittedly, I don’t have any fancy letters after my name and my current expertise happens to be redirecting an energetic toddler and dispensing milk.  So far as prestige goes, I probably don’t have too much.  Oh well.  I know I’m lucky.  I get to be here.  I get to see my daughter everyday, on her frustrated days (like the last few weeks when she so badly wanted to ride her trike uphill but needed help from mom or dad . . . now she can do it though), days of new discoveries (like how to remove the door guard on our front door), days full of silliness (I love her dee-dee-dee song that she sings to the tune of “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star”), days filled with constant meltdowns (the no-nap days), and I get to be the one who she turns to for all of it.  Again and again I have thanked my husband for this; while he is at work, making the money, I’m snapping photos and blogging about my and my daughters adventures . . . he gets to see it and read about it, but he doesn’t get be there, firsthand, the way I do.  But according to him (and I agree), it is important that our children have one of us there, all of the time, to well, be there.

You’ll notice that is is my style to be a bit overly apologetic.  I say that because I realize that not many families can financially swing it.  Many folks are working hard (the way my own parents did) to simply make ends meet.  Being an at-home-parent, for many moms and dads, is a dream, but it isn’t always possible.  I understand that.  I get that.  And deep down, I feel sad that not everyone gets to do what I am doing.

But let me get back to the point of this post: the meaning, the value, the wonder that is, just um, not doing.   Not having anywhere to go, no objective for the day, no chores, no phonecalls to return.  Nadda.  That’s right. Nothing.   Maybe nothing will stop by tomorrow.  Maybe nothing can be me not planning anything but just simply walking into my backyard to lay in the grass with my 2 year old.  Our nothing, I suppose, would still be something.  Even tonight, while my husband took our daughter to the grocery store, my 2 hours of nothing has been writing this post, reading about hypnobirthing, and thinking about what I should/need to do next.

Oh yeah, and I just remembered, I need to work on uploading and sharing a few more of our “days of you and me.” I promise I’ll get to it, but for now, I think I’ll call Annabelle upstairs, cuddle with her, and try and do, well, nothing.

. . .

This post was inspired by Mama Tea’s post: “And then there was guilt.”

Thank you Mama Tea, :-)