So next week is February break…and while part of me is happy for my kids to get some time off, a much larger part of me is just straight up JEALOUS. Seriously, another week off? Weren’t they just on vacation??? I caught myself mimicking my parents the other night as I kissed them goodnight.
“You don’t know how good you have it, kid.”
Think about it…12 weeks of vacation every year for 13 years in a row. TWELVE-talk about life goals! Can I go back in time and say I want to be a kid when I grow up? For real, I just completed my 11th year of tenure and I only reached the 4-weeks-of-vacation status… I think I could work until I’m 90 and I still wouldn’t accumulate more than maybe 7 weeks. Better yet, I could have a BABY every single year and the most time off I would be granted would be 6-8 weeks! So, yah…I'll admit it; I am super jealous of my kids' schedule.
It’s crazy to think back to my mindset as a kid…I couldn’t wait to grow up. I was convinced life would be so much better, more fun, more free, as an adult. Don’t get me wrong, I had a great childhood; lots of joyful memories…but I moved a lot as a kid, so I was forced to adapt more often, and perhaps grow up a little faster than others. I always had big dreams. I was wildly independent, always forward thinking, and thought I knew exactly what I wanted for my future.
I got good grades, performed above-average in competitive sports, served for student government…heck, I checked all the boxes to build that resume so I could get into a good college. The plan was to get in and out of college in 4 years, and secure a good paying management job at a reputable NYC restaurant group.
Check
Check
Check
I was so worried about checking the boxes, I don't think I ever stopped to appreciate those 12 weeks off each year. Dangit!
I remember my mom telling me something that really sunk in back when I was a kid, “One day, you’ll make your own money, and you can choose to spend it on whatever you want.” I must have been begging her to buy me something silly. Or maybe it was that one and only AWFUL time I shoplifted. I was 5 years old and I wanted those orange Tic-Tacs SOOO bad! My mom heard those noisy little orange beans rattling in my pocket when we were walking to the car. And sure as sh!t, she marched me back inside to apologize and give them back. If that was the day that conversation happened, then I learned 2 lessons that day:
1. I’d rather pee myself in public than suffer the shame of getting caught shoplifting again
2. money = freedom to get what you want = happiness (or so I thought)
For the longest time, I was convinced that the more money you make means the more freedom you have to do/buy/be what you want. Or in other words, more money brings you more joy. However, there are many, many happenings between now and my earliest “grown-up” version of myself that has proved this theory wrong.
Money has never given me freedom, just more opportunity.
Money hasn’t given me happiness, merely more entertainment.
Money has never absolved me from my problems, just served as a shield to some of the injustices of modern life.
It's true: Money can buy you a nice car. Money can buy you fancy clothes. It can buy you the biggest, nicest house on the block.
But what good is having all that if you don't have the time to enjoy it with your friends and family?
Due to the pandemic, our household income was reduced by half, but in the same time, our household happiness has grown 3-fold. There are so many factors that play into this, but the major ones are:
We see our kids more,
We connect and talk to each other more,
Jay has the time to be creative and pursue his dream,
And last but not least, we've grown part of a supportive local community
It's quality time spent with loved ones that matters most. And I worry these factors will poof! disappear one day when we eventually win the war against COVID. But I can't let that happen-I will hold onto these gifts for dear life. These are the very learnings we are meant to take away from this hardship.
So while it's easy to get jealous, I'd rather put my energy toward investing in these stolen moments with my kids. You better believe I’ll sneak an extra day here, and a few hours there, to bask with them in their school-vacation glory!
Up until recently, I always worried they didn’t understand why I couldn’t just stop working to play with them. I worried, maybe they thought I didn’t WANT to spend the extra time with them. UGGHHHH---that’s a stab you in the heart kind of pain… But Rowen and I had this conversation yesterday, and it reassured me all is ok in our little bubble:
Me: Hey Rowen, I was looking at my new sweater in the mirror, and don’t you think I look like the Grinch? It’s all green and super fuzzy.
Rowen: Hmmm…well yah…but your feet aren’t green.
Me: Ok, true, but the color looks just like the Grinch, right?
Rowen: Well, yes. But don't worry, your heart definitely isn’t too small, Mama.
And just like that, everything is good again. I can go on to another week, and another week after that! Thanks, Ro.
Wishing you all lots of love and support from hearts sized just right, and if you're really lucky, from hearts that are 3 sizes too big, like Ro's!
Stay safe out there.
Be well, Cromwell (and beyond)!
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