The end of the year is always a time of deep reflection for me.
Every year, without fail, I do what I imagine most people do — look back at goals set, do a self-evaluation and consider next year.
Last year, my goals:
- Professional — Elevate my brand
- Personal — Be a more present mom
- Mind – Read 12 books
- Body – Workout 3 times a week
- Soul – Blog once a week
All in all, 2020 was a success – exceeding some goals and missing others:
- 3 online publications
- 5 awards
- 4 family trips taken
- 22 books read
- 34 blog posts
- 120 hours of Peloton workouts + mediation
- 120 hours of mentoring
- 242 hours of pro bono + community + board work
But even as I write the above, I wonder to myself – should I measure the year in quantifiable time? Is it really the numbers, the precious minutes that count?
Or maybe I should look at extraordinary moments and measure the year by “firsts”?
This year, I:
- Finally had the courage to overcome my Imposter Syndrome and started this blog.
- Gave myself permission to take a girls trip to Austin for the first time since I became a mom and loved every laugh, tear, meal, glass, quiz, and tarot card and psychic reading
- Took Olivia on a Mommy-Daughter date to see P.J. Masks Live – and she loved it!
- Glamped at Broken Bow for the first time, with 3 other families – and our kids hiked for the first time
- Got out of my comfort zone and hiked a mountain, visiting Utah for the first time
- Surprised Jason with Mariachi at our door for Cinco De Mayo
- Found a therapist that I absolutely love to help me prioritize my mental health
- Faced some hard truths and recommitted to my journey as an ally
- Welcomed and adopted Bleu, a Dogue de Bordeaux into our family
- Had the honor of being my sister’s Matron of Honor as she got married
- Baked sugar cookies from scratch for the first time
But even with that list, are those moments truly the measurement of a great year?
And still, I think my answer is no.
Because if my life were to end (as morbid as it may seem to think this way), what I would miss the most are the seemingly mundane moments that are fleeting and finite:
- Hearing tiny feet patter across the floor and slip in the covers during the hazy space between sleep and awake, tiny noses nuzzling in my neck or the crook of my arm
- Sticky maple-syruped, sometimes snotty kisses on my cheek at daycare drop off
- The urgent up and down “pee-pee” dance and ask to potty at the most inconvenient times no matter how many times I ask if they have to potty before an activity or trip
- Boo-boos and tear-stained cheeks that can still be healed by my arms and kisses
- The dramatic run into my arms and sweet sound of “Mama” at daycare pick up
- The “look at me” on repeat
- Weekend family afternoon naps
- Popcorned family movie nights amongst a nest of throws and pillows
- Sibling-shared baths littered with toys and negotiated number of books before bed
- 3 year old and 5 year old prayers
- Quiet, lavender-salted solo hot baths accompanied by Real Simple, Headspace or Audible
- Glasses of ice water, Pinot Noir, or mugs of hot, honeyed tea and an occasional Ferrero Rocher that appear from Jason on my nightstand without request
- Pillow-hoarding slumber, with one foot touching Jason’s foot and the other peeking underneath the comforter to “breathe”
- Sleeping in as Jason tiptoes the kids out of our bedroom on Saturday and Sunday mornings
Perhaps this is how we should measure a year.
In good mornings and good nights, in uncontrollable giggles and laugh out loud laughter — in tight squeezes and nose to nose kisses and little hands enveloped by bigger ones -all hopefully too many to count.
Meybe.
So beautifully said.
Thank you! I was going through my reflection and had to stop to write. And this is what appeared.