I’m a firm believer in the ease of the everyday. That those things we undertake with some regularity tend to become less daunting simply by the fact that we overcome them on a regular basis. And that, conversely, simple things we forget to practice become difficult. Take, for example, handwritten thank-you cards; or my dishes. Every so often, I’ll leave them lounging languidly in my sink for days longer than I would like to admit. It’s as though I’ve forgotten how to do them, or, more likely, allowed a simple task to become daunting by lack of practice. And then I buckle down and it takes all of 10 minutes, and I am so completely thrilled with my accomplishment. As if it counts as such.
My point is things that are very hard (and yes, this is relative) become easier to do if faced routinely. One very good friend of mine gets up on a regular basis around 4am to run a mini-marathon. I may be exaggerating, but not by much. I can prove this, because when she was gracious enough to extend her hospitality to this appreciative houseguest, she snuck out in the pre-dawn darkness to put in 10 miles before breakfast. Breakfast at 8am. After we had toasted our glad-to-see-you-ness the night before. And she could do this because she has practiced. Every day, or with some frequency, she conquers the early morning chill, places one foot in front of the other, sweats, curses, and realizes, “hey, this isn’t so bad.” And the next day she does it again. Practice. The ease of the everyday.
I think motherhood falls somewhere in the “survival by sheer will and practice” genre as well. The mothers I know are superheroes. I’m tough, and I really, truly love kids, but if you dropped me in to their day job at any given moment, I’m not sure I’d report for duty on day two. But because the super-hero-ness becomes part of the routine, the muscles get stronger, (especially the heart one) and you keep at it, and even though it’s hard every time, the hard part isn’t a surprise. And I think that’s what makes it ok.
All this to say, not posting here every day (as I once did) makes it harder than it should be. I vow to stop making writing difficult and just do it. Because I feel most myself right here with you (did you get all warm and fuzzy?). This place is not daunting, it’s home.
So if you could kindly overlook an out-of-shape jogger blogger, I’ll see you again tomorrow.