Turns out, in my quest for perfection and world domination, or just keeping my dining room table free of clutter, I need more than a word, and more than a vague idea of what that word means.
Honestly, I may have bit off the proverbial too-big bite. In order to be intent on tasks and to be intentional about those areas of my life that need attention, I need a plan.
I really hate plans. My runner friends know this. I fight plans even while I follow them. If the training plan is to run 3 miles, then by golly I’m going to do it, but there’s this chip on my shoulder about it. As if I’m working for The Man, doing something some wise person told me when I asked for information. There’s just something so prescriptive and unspontaneous about plans. They’re so organized and set and everything.
But one can’t really be intentional without some forethought. To whit: in order to finish what I want for homeschool this year, I have to sort of think about what the next day or the next week will be like. (duh.) We’ve been playing it pretty fast and loose at luitschool these days, and now it’s time to buckle down and get serious.
Or keeping the dining room clutter free. That means cleaning off my desk so I can file the crap on the table. Clearing off the table shows me that I need to do ten other projects I’ve been ignoring.
One area, staying in contact with women friends, has been the easiest and most fun. Since I work from home, and since I homeschool too, I sometimes feel like the caged bird. Gone are the days of coffee dates and runs in the park in the middle of the day. I’ve said a temporary goodbye to luxurious visits to the hairdresser. I go with wet hair now and have her chop fast so I can rush to the next thing. It’s easy to stay shuttered up in my house. There’s always something to do, and it can seem to challenging just to break away.
But, I’ve been pushing myself to make dates with friends, to accept invitations, and to stick to them. And they fill me, these short bursts of time and talk. They remind me of my humanity, rather than my motherness.
I haven’t made an overnight shift. I am not miraculously cured of loosey-goosey time management. Two weeks is not enough time for the kind of intentional change I want to see. But I’m getting there. Small decisions.
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