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