Adam has gotten into Legos lately. (Translation: I spend hours on intricate creations following page after page of detailed instructions while he happily plays nearby with the little people that he can put together in a matter of seconds.) The other day, while searching the table for a tiny piece, scanning the shapes over and over again, I wished I could just stick some other piece in its place and move on, but it doesn't work that way. Each layer builds on the previous one, and a missing piece or the wrong piece will put the rest of the object in jeopardy of crumbling apart.
Those little pieces remind me of raising kids. I feel like every little piece we click into place matters, especially those blocks fastened down in their early years, and I can't go back and rebuild. I just have to build to the best of my ability each step of the way.
I have given up some things this year in order to focus more on the building of these two little boys and to give more time to taking care of myself. Saying "no" isn't easy, but I am learning that just because I might be good at something doesn't mean I should do it. I am really trying to do little things that give me a boost each day. I've had fun updating my wardrobe and putting new outfits together, reading some fiction books, doing little craft or organization projects around the house, and even going beyond "pinning" and actually making those new recipes or photo walls happen in my house.
Saying "no" isn't selfish. Saying "no" gives you a chance to say "yes" to something else. Devote time to taking care of yourself so you can better serve others. When we are drained, our attitudes are not what they should be as we give to others. Life can be exhausting. Especially for moms. No one else can make you slow down. Take a breath. Un-commit to something so that you can be present in your own life. No one feels loved when we are rushing around checking things off of our lists, and we can't go back and re-connect these building blocks of raising our precious children. We are the ones that will crumble if we look back with regret.