I've gotta slow down

"Will you wave to me from the window?"

He grins wide and runs over to wait, pumping his arms like a real little racer, as I turn to walk out. I move through the piazza, past the colorful kid art and padded gym-mat wedges. I cross through the new wooden gate,  down the small flight of stairs. I grab the old EatingWell calendars I brought in for art-projects, set down when Kai and I came in because it was heavy, and tell Tracy Christina is expecting them. I hurry out to the van, fumble around in my bag and pull out two checks, one I've been meaning deposit for more than a month. I already feel accomplished, productive.

For whatever reason, I look up, out the windshield. At the building. The window—which is framing the saddest little face. Kai is sobbing. Somewhere between here and there, I'd totally forgotten about the wave. My heart stops, and then drops into my stomach. I fling open the door and sprint back into the building, up the stairs, through the gate, past the colorful art and padded mats.

A day I didn't forget to wave. 

When he sees me back, he rushes right over and I apologize again and again. He laughs through tears. I tell him that I feel lucky to get a bonus hug from him. He hugs me tightly and shouts, a bonus hug. He's over it. I'm not. I'm so pissed at myself getting so caught up in my to-do that I forgot to say goodbye to my sweet, little expectant boy. That I'm always so in my own head that I overlook the significance of what's going on in my kids'. 

The other night, a friend mentioned that another, mutual friend remarked how Jon always seemed so "tuned in" to our kids. He is—and the comment wasn't meant to imply that I'm not. But it's true: that often, I'm not. I'm no in tune with anything. I'm rushing and running and reacting. And I don't like it.

Every year on my birthday, I make some resolutions for myself. Every year, in the first week of May, both of my boys have another birthday. I've decide to use this time to create, renew and review my parenting resolutions. The first one is to set aside full chunks of time where I'm fully focused on my kids. No phone, no lunch packing, no check writing, no reading while we sit and watch a show together. I'm 100% certain that I won't be 100% successful but I'm going to try. I'm going to set aside times to get that other shit done, fully focused. 

How do you stay a present parent? 

Blogging keeps me accountable.

Anymore, I'm not sure how to keep myself accountable without a blog. 

My goals for my 37th year (still shaping up) will be both bigger and smaller than the goals of my 36th year. I will focus (in the unique way that I focus). I will simplify. All in the name of living a bigger life. 

For one, I will stop the Sunday catch-up work sessions. Effective immediately after I wrap today's essential editing. 

I'm serious. Committed. (Now... back to it, this final Sunday catch-up session.)

Fresh starts are invigorating.

Happy September 1! I love the fall. The air smells great. The light looks pretty (think: ambient lamps versus overhead CFLs). For me, the sensory experience of fall is so awesome that, during the months of September and October, I can run more than 3 miles sans music and not feel like I'm going crazy.
Then there's the fashion. I prefer tights and boots to shorts and tanks any day. (Need inspiration for fab fall fashions? Check out LOFT's The Now campaign--spearheaded by my bestie HT!) But the thing I like to shop for most in fall? No doubt: School supplies. (Yes, I'm 35. No, I do not go to school.) Check out this sweet new "Tomorrow" planner I just ordered from Poketo, on a recommendation from Daily Candy:

How to fill in the sentence "Tomorrow _______"? ... "is a new day."
Or "is another day." Hmm... I think #2 is more inspiring and Zen.

For me, new school (okay, office) supplies represent a new start: a clean slate, another chance to commit to things that "improve my performance" (wow, that sounds really ambitious in print, doesn't it?),  things that make me happier. And while I don't have data from a clinical trial to prove it, I suspect that this phenomenon has his some sort of genetic basis. Jules started preschool on Monday. It's at the same place as his "daycare" with many of the same friends and teachers. But the little guy is in so many ways mini version of me (but with blond hair, blue eyes and, um, boy parts) and this new start seems to have motivated milestones--potty success!--and increased independence all around. Today, he dressed himself, topped off his outfit with a baseball hat, grabbed Kai by the hand and ordered, "It's time to go, Kai." When Jon tried to help him with his backpack--daycare is a drive away, so Jules wears it just to walk to the car (love!)--he shooed him off, saying, "I got it, Dad." Dad.

Anyway, today I'm starting a list of fall resolutions. My top 3:
1. Wake up earlier.
2. Run 3 times a week and get back to the weekend long runs that empower me to sign up for a 1/2 marathon (okay, a 10K) at any time.
3. Prep as much of the next-day's dinner as possible the night before. (Or simplify and plan to serve healthy dinners that take, like, 5 minutes to make. Whole-wheat raviolis...)

Now. Do I start my new planner today--or wait until my old one runs out in December? And do you have any New (School) Year Resolutions?

-Nicci

PS: As I occupy this blog with trivial musings, so many people here in Vermont and elsewhere are struggling with new starts forced by Irene. Donating to the American Red Cross is a great way to help. Or Text FOODNOW to 52000. The Vermont Foodbank will help turn your $10 donation into $60 worth of groceries for local families in need. (This was the first time I've ever donated via text. It. Is. Awesome.)