I approach this blog with trepidation. Following yesterday’s entry, it is obvious there is very little about my life and my day-to-day that is routine.
Perhaps that’s a good thing? Perhaps that is a blessing in disguise? Not having the same thing to do every day. Not having the same actions to perform like some robot on automatic pilot. Isn’t variety supposed to be the spice of life?
I guess there is some truth to that philosophy, but as I wrote yesterday, lack of discipline begets lack of routine which, in the long run, begets lack of accomplishment.
Still, there really is not one thing I can think of that is routine in my every day. I guess you can say pulling the covers closer to my body as I mumble the words, “I love you, too” to my wife as she heads out the door for her hour-long commute to work is routine. (I am a sunnavabitch, aren’t I?) I suppose fixing myself an obscene amount of coffee every morning as I try to get my brain out of first gear is routine. I would assume in the most abstract of cases checking Facebook, Twitter and ESPN.com every morning before I decide to tackle my real work can be considered a routine.
In all seriousness, however, structure in my day is as fleeting as the breeze.
There is one exception. It is something that, technically, can be categorized as dynamic, but the fact I get to do it every day - okay, almost every day - fills me with happiness, joy, and a riveting sense of completion. I’m talking about picking up my kids in the afternoon.
In order to understand what I mean, I first need to provide some background information. I’m divorced and my kids have primary residence with their mother. My ex and I are in the small minority of split-households with no concrete or court mandated schedule regarding our kids. Quite literally, we play every day by ear. For the most part, I pick them up every afternoon following school. Still, given how varied my social schedule can get, there is nothing really set in stone. My ex and I usually work out high level details the week before and coordinate on a day-to-day basis regarding the kids.
That being said, I so thoroughly look forward to picking up my kids and sharing the afternoon with them. I get to ask them how their day went, what new and interesting things they learned in school, and what’s going on in general with their lives. I get to help them with their homework and school projects. I get to cook them dinner and show off to them as we sit together and watch Jeopardy. It’s not always 100% like that, but it is a part of the responsibilities I need to complete as a dad, and it’s enough for me to call a routine.
The more I think about it, the more I know how lost I would be without that component in my life. Is it always convenient? No. Is it always fun? Not exactly. Still, it’s fills my life with purpose and meaning, and when I see the accomplishments of my children, be it in the classroom or on the athletic field, it fills me with such an incredible feeling of love that cannot adequately be put into words.
And love is the most appropriate word to describe this routine. I love getting to pick up my kids. I love being a dad to them. I love being in love with those two little people who are closer to being in college than they are to being in diapers. I know I have to cherish these moments. I need to absorb every ounce of emotion my time with my kids generates. I need to completely immerse myself in my role as father, educator, philosopher, counselor, and consultant to my kids. Their childhood only comes around once, and before I know it they’ll both be off to college, pursuing their dreams and taking their own steps into adulthood.
I’m afraid that when that time comes, my only routine will be to sit around and miss my kids.
Showing posts with label routine. Show all posts
Showing posts with label routine. Show all posts
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Monday, January 3, 2011
When the Big Mo Becomes the Big Slow
It’s tough to go back to work following vacation. It’s always tough to go back to school after an extended hiatus. It’s a challenge. More appropriately, it’s a struggle.
Struggle. It’s a word that just sounds sluggish. It even looks …. blah.
Struggle is what’s on my mind today. Following yesterday’s reflection on all that things I didn’t do, the natural thought process is to look at why I didn’t do them. What is it that keeps me from focusing on the task at hand or the goal that’s been set? And similarly to yesterday’s post in which I could have rattled off a laundry list of reasons, I think what I struggle most with is routine.
Working from home affords me a world of luxuries. I’ve come to accept it as my professional status quo - for now - and I really enjoy the perks of having no commute, sleeping in just a little bit longer, and always having a freshly brewed pot of coffee when I wake up (thanks again to my mother-in-law Patsy).
Still, the one glaring drawback of having my home office be my day office is that I really have no routine. Every morning is a little bit different. Every day progresses in its own way, meandering from morning to afternoon to early evening. Throw in the days when my kids are out of school, as they are this week, and any semblance of structure goes completely out the window.
What’s really bothersome is I know the underlying problem with the lack of routine, and my subsequent inability to deliver and produce the way I feel I can and should, is discipline. Discipline. It’s the opposite of struggle. It sounds cold, hard, and brash. It’s clinical. Hearing the word conjures up the image of R. Lee Ermy in Full Metal Jacket. Or better yet, of him in the Geico commercial as a therapist. All the while, I feel like the jackwagon looking for a way to mamby pamby land so I can get my ship in order.
What’s really interesting is that I can easily get fired up over a new project or some new venture. But it’s the lack of mental discipline that leads to no sense of real consistency which, in turn, leads to the total loss of momentum. If only I could bottle up the excitement and enthusiasm that comes with the feeling of new - much like this writing project Lee and I have undertaken - and draw from it when I fell my brain has down-shifted a couple of gears.
Perhaps that’s the real lesson here. Discipline, routine and consistency are easier to find when there’s the presence of the big stick called accountability. I am writing everyday in part because it’s a challenge, but also because I don’t want to disappoint my wife. We agreed to do this together and I don’t want to bail on her and all the hard work she’s put forth so far. What I don’t seem to understand is why it’s so easy to disappoint myself. Why is it that I can’t seem to hold myself accountable? That is the first struggle I must overcome if I am going to realize any real changes this year.
Struggle. It’s a word that just sounds sluggish. It even looks …. blah.
Struggle is what’s on my mind today. Following yesterday’s reflection on all that things I didn’t do, the natural thought process is to look at why I didn’t do them. What is it that keeps me from focusing on the task at hand or the goal that’s been set? And similarly to yesterday’s post in which I could have rattled off a laundry list of reasons, I think what I struggle most with is routine.
Working from home affords me a world of luxuries. I’ve come to accept it as my professional status quo - for now - and I really enjoy the perks of having no commute, sleeping in just a little bit longer, and always having a freshly brewed pot of coffee when I wake up (thanks again to my mother-in-law Patsy).
Still, the one glaring drawback of having my home office be my day office is that I really have no routine. Every morning is a little bit different. Every day progresses in its own way, meandering from morning to afternoon to early evening. Throw in the days when my kids are out of school, as they are this week, and any semblance of structure goes completely out the window.
What’s really bothersome is I know the underlying problem with the lack of routine, and my subsequent inability to deliver and produce the way I feel I can and should, is discipline. Discipline. It’s the opposite of struggle. It sounds cold, hard, and brash. It’s clinical. Hearing the word conjures up the image of R. Lee Ermy in Full Metal Jacket. Or better yet, of him in the Geico commercial as a therapist. All the while, I feel like the jackwagon looking for a way to mamby pamby land so I can get my ship in order.
What’s really interesting is that I can easily get fired up over a new project or some new venture. But it’s the lack of mental discipline that leads to no sense of real consistency which, in turn, leads to the total loss of momentum. If only I could bottle up the excitement and enthusiasm that comes with the feeling of new - much like this writing project Lee and I have undertaken - and draw from it when I fell my brain has down-shifted a couple of gears.
Perhaps that’s the real lesson here. Discipline, routine and consistency are easier to find when there’s the presence of the big stick called accountability. I am writing everyday in part because it’s a challenge, but also because I don’t want to disappoint my wife. We agreed to do this together and I don’t want to bail on her and all the hard work she’s put forth so far. What I don’t seem to understand is why it’s so easy to disappoint myself. Why is it that I can’t seem to hold myself accountable? That is the first struggle I must overcome if I am going to realize any real changes this year.
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