Week 21 found me running, people, all day every day, every damn way. Case in point: I'm just now, while I write this, watching the American Idol finale, which was on last Sunday...8 days ago.
And yes, I'm just talented enough at ignoring the Internet that I did not even catch a hint as to who won in 8 days. Skills.
This week, I had the best moments, even with a minor panic attack about packing a suitcase Thursday at 5pm, when we were leaving for San Diego two hours later. For my sister Bri or my friend Michelle, this would not be panic inducing. In fact, it might even make them feel as though they were ahead of schedule because, by God, they packed before they had to leave. Bravo, ladies. I, unfortunately, am not that person. I am the "pack five days before or you're never going to make it" kind of person. Or I was. Before my daughter hit the age where playing a sport meant living and breathing said sport four days a week and packing was low on my list, as was working out or doing any sort of housework.
But I survived. This was something I learned this week--something I forget and need a bit of perspective on (thanks La and Fergie). A missed workout or seven, if it means taking those 45 minutes in between tennis and softball to breathe and drink a damn cup of coffee, is okay. In fact, it can be healthier. As can taking a weekend to fly down and see your niece graduate from college--Summa Cum Laude, heyo--and just be with some of the people you are lucky enough to have in your life. This week, I saw my bestie (and again, forgot to take a freaking picture) on a random Tuesday night in Portland for shopping and dinner, watched Liv play two softball games, signed her up for her first feising season for Irish dance, and spent four days in San Diego with Jan's and my family, watching beautiful Whitney walk across the USD stage.
And--and--I applied and got a position reading books for a review company. Since I signed an NDA, that's literally all I can say, but when I was hemming and hawing about whether I could do it, and then if I should do it, since it's one more thing that will take a bit of time, I remembered this promise, this desire to say yes even when no is so much damn easier. I also remembered that I really freaking like reading books.
I think the hardest thing for me in my adulthood is the worry about getting everything done. Calling all of the people and making all of the plans for when you're gone, checking all of the boxes and making certain that nothing drops, while still trying to be excited about having fun. And this weekend, I realized how bad I am at that--looking forward and enjoying something-- which in turn reminded me about my reasons for starting this project, for saying yes even when the idea of picking a dress for a graduation luncheon seemed like the hardest decision I've ever made.
Spoiler alert: no one cared what I was wearing. You're shocked, I know.
In saying yes to everything this week--tennis and softball and dance and dining on a Tuesday in Portland and reading books while giving an honest opinion--I got to say yes to my family, and seeing a beautiful moment as yet another Rasmussen family member crossed that USD stage, making our tally up to three. And I got to watch Old Man River walk Liv around his old campus and share stories with our nieces about places they all shared memories in now. And then I got to watch Liv and her Uncle Erik walk the beach and tease crabs--so salty...hehe, I did it. I even got to beat some new friends in cribbage, so...boom. Killing it.
Maybe I had a minor panic attack when I got home today at four and still needed to grocery shop, do laundry so Liv's softball uniform is clean for her game tomorrow, and read two hundred more pages to be on time with my first review, but I am beginning to think I might have had that panic attack anyway (type A personality and all that jazz), regardless of whether I locked myself inside of my house or went on vacation.
So, the moral of this convoluted reflection: saying yes is freaking hard, but it's brought me moments of sheer joy more times than I can count in these 21 weeks, and this weekend was one of them. If nothing else, it's at least taught me that you can, in fact, go to the grocery store after 8 am on a Sunday and the world doesn't end. In fact, like the damn dress, not one person noticed the difference.
I am learning all over the place dear people. Stay tuned.
Until next week. xoxo