When Jason is gone, I believe in celebrating little victories.
When Jason is home, my days are pretty routine. Certainly, I get off schedule some days. You’d better bet my kitchen flies apart when I’m making cakes. But for the most part, when Jason gets home in the evening, the kitchen is done, dinner is cooking, and I’m ready to spend my evening doing homework. I might be a little behind on my assignments, but I can at least tell you what is due when.
This is not such the case when Jason is gone.
If I let myself go into detail about the mundane things I can’t manage to get done when he’s gone, we’d be here a while. A very long while. I spent last week pulling my hair out because all I could concentrate on was the to-do list that was only getting longer and longer every day. It didn’t help that I was hitting the 5 week “wall” I tend to hit before I finally reach the 6 week “adjusted” feeling.
So now, I concentrate on celebrating the little victories. Little victories can be the most everyday things, but when they’re accomplished, I raise my arms up, do a little jig, and feel a wee bit victorious.
This monday was the 6th week in a row I remembered to put the trash out. VICTORY! I purchased new tires for the car with the heathens in tow. VICTORY! I completed my Senior Thesis draft. VICTORY! I cooked a thanksgiving turkey with 4 boys underfoot. VICTORY! I took all 4 boys groccery shopping and did not come out with an entire cart full of ding-dongs and donuts. VICTORY! Every morning I get breakfast made, boys fed, lunches packed, boys dressed (in snow gear, lately) and out the door for the bus by 8:09. VICTORY! Seriously, the list goes on and on.
Some nights, victory is declared when all the boys are in bed and I have made it through the day without killing them. Then, victory is more like an exhausted mommy finally remembering to eat, but it’s victory all the same.
They’re not always happy victories, like making it through my boys’ birthdays alone, or surviving stomach flu, but they’re MY victories. They are just enough to remind me that I can handle this house and the tiny humans that live here without Jason’s astonishing ability to walk in just as I’m about to blow my top at fighting heathens. I can do it solo. I don’t have to have him here. That doesn’t mean I don’t want him. Desperately. But I can manage.
So, I’m letting go of my “crap this didn’t get done” mentality, and clinging to the “LOOK WHAT I DID!” era. If that means I do a jig in the kitchen once I get the dishes done and the floor mopped without Brody pulling everything out again, then so be it. I can shake my booty in my yoga-pants and hoodie all day long. Besides, it’s not like anyone can see me… that I know of. 😉
So here’s to little victories in all their shapes and sizes!