Month: January 2019

On loving your neighbors (and actually knowing their names)

Besides the back of my dog’s head, you are looking at a shoveled driveway. But it wasn’t shoveled by me or my husband. And nope, not by our dog either.

The story behind it:

It’s about half past one and my dog starts barking at the front door. I’m shushing him, as usual, because I just got the babe down for nap, and I’m working on the toddler now. But then I hear voices. I look out the window and see a troupe of middle school to high school-age girls in my driveway. Actually they are shoveling my driveway!!

I watch for a second, dumbfounded. Is that really my driveway? Am I so sleep deprived that I’m seeing things? The girls are nearly done, so I open the door and call out to them. I recognize a few of them as direct neighbors and a few others from summer bonfires. I thank them profusely, offer snacks and ask if they’re a Girl Scout group or something of the sort. Nope. Just doing this for people who need it done. Just walking through our hood and spontaneously blessing the woolly socks off people.

I snap a picture, thank them again and text one of their moms. What a daughter. What a blessing.

This has officially made my day.

I hear “love your neighbor” a lot in the circles I run in. It’s a catch phrase and a catch all for people trying to convince you to be kind to that guy you don’t like. Or thoughtful of others’ struggles and perceptions half way around the globe.

But half the time we don’t take it literally. Half the time we don’t even know our actual neighbors by name.

I’m lucky enough to be part of an amazing neighborhood where I know most of the people I live by. But that doesn’t mean I can’t make it even better. I’ve been a little stuck in my own world of raising little humans and hanging with mommies that go with them.

But my hood is where I live, the people who quietly (or loudly) exist nearest to me. People with basic and complex needs. People with families and drama and struggles. People like me.

These girls reminded me that loving my neighbor starts with knowing my neighbors! With saying hello.

And it continues with simple things. Homemade cards and hand-me-downs. Shoveled driveways and mowed lawns.

And an extra large batch of blueberry muffins.

Comin at ya, neighbors!

101 things

My kids are napping. At the same time.

This is the result of both tedious planning and dumb luck. I aim for this goal each day, but it is ultimately out of my hands and in the pudgy fingers of my littles.

One is snuggled in his crib, the other taking up residence in my bed. And, because I can’t be in my bed, I am now on the couch, draped in the sunshine coming through my window. thinking.

Of the 101 things. The tasky-things. The to-dos, must-dos and should-dos. And I don’t even have to really think because I look up and my to-dos surround me.

But I’m not doing them.

There is a conveyor belt of never-ending _______. Especially when you’re a parent of littles. They spew their toys and clothes (and fluids) everywhere and don’t give any poop emojis about it. They go through outfits like they’re working a runway. They ‘help’ and undo whatever you just did. It’s maddening. If you let it be.

But maybe we don’t have to do so much. Maybe choosing a thing or two each day that we enjoy might be more satisfying than another check mark. Maybe we could stop acting like martyrs (admit it, we do this!) and start enjoying life a little more.

My babe is awake already, and because he’s erupting snot like Old Faithful, I’m going to bring him out and cuddle his boogery-butt.

But I’m also going to finish this paragraph.

Because I don’t have to let to-do’s rule me. Because sometimes writing makes me happy. And because I believe that happy parents are better parents.

But even more than that, truly happy people are better people.

In joy,

Mama-megs

**Inspiration via my mommy friends at ECFE and a MOPS talk about throwing away your to-do list for one month