There’s this moment that occurs in the early morning hours each weekend, when I feel abundantly optimistic about what I can accomplish in a day. A full deep clean of the house followed by grocery shopping. Then a trip to the park with the kids, a meet up with friends at a local brewery, and after the kids are fast asleep a couple episodes of whatever Netflix show the husband and I are currently making our way through. Seems totally reasonable right?! I mean, literally nothing could go wrong with this perfectly formulated plan I just thought up prior to stepping one foot out of bed.
I fondly refer to this moment as the “window of opportunity.” That moment when anything seems possible and optimism is at its peak for the day. It starts out quite large and open, like a giant south facing bay window that lets in endless natural light on even the cloudiest of days.
As I make my way to the kitchen, still half asleep, and encounter the demands of my tiny offspring along with a pesky to-do list that remains from the day before, that window slowly begins to shrink. By 11 a.m., I come to terms with the fact that maybe just the bathrooms…upstairs bathroom…upstairs bathroom toilet will get cleaned today. That’s OK, I think to myself, still feeling pretty optimistic about the grocery shopping and meet up with friends later. Two pane windows still let in a lot of light.
That is, until an epic tantrum at Target happens and we have to leave before half the grocery list is crossed off. Which means a second trip to the store, sans kids, will now be happening instead of that park visit. Later at home we decide we’re too exhausted to attempt a public outing and cancel the meet up with friends. That two-pane is now down to the size of an egress window that is barely regulation size, but you could maybe squeeze through it if you accidentally locked yourself out of the house with your child inside and you had no other way to get in. Not that I would know anything about that.
Feeling somewhat defeated, we begin the bedtime battles. Like an egress window on a cloudless day, there are a few bright moments I can’t help but soak in. Tickles and laughs at bedtime and the sweetest voice saying “I love you, too” as I close the door all but erase that fleeting memory of the tantrum from earlier in the day. As I settle into my favorite warn spot on the couch with a glass of wine in hand, my husband fires up Netflix, and we laugh about how the day didn’t turn out as planned, but it was still a pretty good day. Of course that could just be the wine talking.
After six years of parenting, I’ve learned that things rarely turn out as planned. The things is, just as often as the window tends to shrink, there are days with the window starts out small and blossoms into something bigger. Unexpected projects checked off the home to-do list and unplanned adventures in the city when the kids are at their best. These are the days that keep me pulling back the curtains on the window of opportunity, and while that moment of basking in the large bay window may be short, it is still worth the view.
