Dear Friend,
Can you do it all? I can't. I found this out one frantic night a few years ago.
I was working an 8-to-5 with a commute. This had me rolling up to the kids' daycare at 5:55pm, right before closing time. We rushed the few blocks home to stuff our faces with something resembling dinner before quick potty breaks.
Next, it was back to the daycare for the annual Christmas program. I wasn't going to miss my older girl play the bells (can anyone say, proud mama?) or my cute younger son sing "Must be Santa" on the sanctuary risers (look at all those adorable wiggle worms!).
Now, it's off to the fellowship hall to eat cookies, talk to strangers (really, do I have to?), and wait for my kids' favorite part of the year--Santa ho-ho-ho-ing his way into the room. "Quick!" I whisper to the kids, "Get in line to to see him! We've got to go!!!" My kiddos have an embarrassing amount of competitive spirit, so they were first in line. They climbed on Santa's lap, each in turn, telling him their greatest desires. (Of course, it wasn't world peace. Are you kidding?) "To the car, kiddos!" I tell them.
All buckled up, my oldest says, "Mom, why are we rushing?"
"We're off to community group," I say proudly, confident that exposing my kids to other wonderful families who support each other will make my kids into amazing, caring adults.
On the way to our friends' home, I'm starting to doubt myself. Isn't this a school night? Aren't we already late for community group? Aren't my kids tired? I quickly push these thoughts aside and let my strong sense of DUTY take over. It is a taco night potluck and I promised to bring chips and salsa. Whatever will they do without MY chips and salsa? After all, I gave my word. My solemn promise to bring chips and salsa.
We arrive and I can tell the kids and I are drooping, exhausted from our long day and even longer evening. I paste a giant smile on my face and adjust my imaginary super-cape around my neck. I greet friends. I see the party was clearly well on its way before we arrived. Most importantly, I shove MY chips and salsa among the many other dishes and other chips and salsa. What?! There are already plenty of chips and salsa here?! What am I doing here? I love these people, but I can see them next week.
So I eat the obligatory quarter plate of food, perform the obligatory chitchat, and let the children play with their friends for the obligatory 20 minutes. Finally, I politely excuse us, and we head home.
Once again, my wise daughter asks, "Why did we go there?"
"I promised to bring chips and salsa, and I didn't want to let them down." Even as I said the words, I could see how ridiculous they were. They didn't need me to do anything. I could have politely called--even that night--and backed out. I could have explained the truth: that I had overcommitted us for the night.
This was the night I promised myself I would never do this to my family again. True, I'm big on letting my yes be yes, but I'm also only mortal. And my kids are only mortal. Sometimes, I need to get my big girl pants on and say, "No." Or say, "I know I said yes, but now I need to say no."
And it's OK.
Love,
Your Friend
p.s.
- Are you rushing to take your chips and salsa somewhere that is already filled with them?
- How do you handle your Yes and your No?
- How do you imagine your friends or boss would respond if you needed to back out on something you promised? Would it be the end of the world?
- How do you guard your energy levels? How do add in buffer zones of time so you and your family don't have to frantically rush around?
- Is there anything in your life that was once good but that you may now need to say no to?