There is a delicate balance between routine and spontaneity that has to exist in a child's life. I say that because, as an adult, I am known for having none of the latter. I was quite a control freak prior to having Jackson. Everything was calculated, carefully measured, and all ramifications of my actions were thought through. I knew, exactly how, what I did or said would effect every person within a 25 mile radius. I rarely ever acted on anything spur of the moment, and I thrived in that way. Boring, yes, but predictable and certain. Life was safe beyond measure.
Now, with Jack, I want him to have that predictability and know what to expect in world that is incalculable. But I also realize that I missed out, and that most valuable moments are the ones that are not thought through to the fullest extent. During the routine of a normal evening with Jackson, it's not the dinner or bath or bedtime routine that I remember most, though very comical, and memorable in their own right. At the end of the day, it's how he belly laughed endlessly when we walked past the "tickle tree" and how we stopped for an eternity while he investigated the sappy pine and relentlessly tried to free the needles from his sticky little hands. It's the time when we scrap our plan to eat dinner as a family, and run through the drive through for a picnic in the park. Or when the living room becomes a fortress made of sheets and blankets. The moments I remember are the ones that occur when I take the time to stop, observe what interests him, and discovers what makes him tick. The only way this happens is if I let go.
What I learned today: It's so easy to get caught up in the daily routine of life. To have To-Do lists a mile long, and overbook yourself with so many obligations that there is no room to stray. Give yourself permission to let those things slide by a little more than you feel comfortable doing. It's these little moments that are actually the big moments . . . but you just don't know until they are gone.
