Tuesday. The air was crisp the way Fall air usually is. The sun was warm in just the right spots. I was pushing a stroller with my 2-year-old who was sitting straight up, taking in all the air, all the colors, all the changes Fall has to offer. In my other hand, my dog, sniffing every inch of grass the lag in the leash would allow. In front of me, skipped my 4.5-year-old boy who did not even want to be on this walk in the first place. We walked our usual loop, one we have walked a dozen times, but this walk was not one I will forget. Passing all the familiar homes, ones that look like ours and ones that don’t, my 4.5-year-old wished and wondered about what it would be like to live there, or there, or there.
“I wish we had a porch like that, Mommy”.
“I wish I had a dog like that, Mommy”.
“I wish we had a basketball goal, Mommy”.
It’s my fault really. I’m the wisher. I’m the grass-is-definitely-greener. I’m the role model that had no idea all my wishes and wants were being absorbed by my little sponge.
Taylor got home from work and as we were sitting down to dinner, one already abandoned by the littles, I told him about our walk. I said, “I can’t believe that boy doesn’t know how much he has and how blessed he is to have it. There are children out there who don’t have…” and I proceeded to rattle off ALL the things. Suddenly, there was God saying “I can’t believe Laura doesn’t know how much she has and how blessed she is to have it.” I was struck to my core by this lightning bolt of a realization.
I have sent my husband an email almost every day this week, telling him how stressed I am that the room (mind you the one that my dad and he are renovating and I’m just observing until it’s time to decorate) might not be done in time (or rather the time frame I have in mind). Who am I to be stressed by the plans that I not only created, but sort of demanded to come to fruition? Who am I to say anything to my husband who is not a general contractor and before 2 weeks ago didn’t even know how to hang a piece of drywall but still took on this major project? Who am I to not see how extremely blessed I am to not only have a home to raise 3 children in, but literally to have 3 children period?
Yesterday, Aria, my sweet and spicy 2-year-old said, “I love dis house” to which I respond, “oh baby, me too!” This summer, a DIY to-do list hung on our command center. The list was LONG and I wanted to knock it out by the end of summer. As many know, life happens. Pool days trumped paint days, Cincy road trips trumped yard work and instead of building new walls, new memories were built instead.
Friends, I am not perfect, but I have spent a lot of my life trying to be. I have spent a lot of my life trying to exercise myself into a perfect size, trying to create a perfect home, trying to raise perfect children and trying to be the perfect mom, sister, wife, friend, etc. I want nice things. I want a shiplap kitchen and a bonus room created just to my liking. I want a finished basement because my husband has all this UK memorabilia and that’s the only place it will “fit”. I want new couches because I’ve changed my whole home vibe. I want hardwood floors because my kids’ sippy cups are in fact, not drip proof. I wish and I want and I wish some more. I want it all someday.
Today I told my mom and in the same breath I was telling myself this:
Your to-do list is very short:
1// Love yourself.
2// Love your husband.
3// Love your kids.
4// Praise God for it all.
Your Someday List is where you want to store everything else. Someday is a good day to get all those things done.
Someday finally came around for my front porch. This year we were gifted porch furniture. I finally made a new wreath. I scored these planters for $60 each and my black thumb hasn’t killed these Mums [yet!] Although, in a perfect world, they’d both be bloomed and beautiful. 4 years in the making folks. Someday truly means someday…
Here’s to “Someday” friends, when the world of Pinterest and perfect collide. Until then, I hope you have an amazing “Today” and are able to check off everything on your “To-Do” list.