The blessing of derailed plans

My kids Kate and Sela are always very curious about our plans for the day(s) ahead.

“Mama, what are we doing tomorrow?”

“What are we doing after quiet time?”

“Tomorrow’s Friday, right? What are we doing this weekend?”

This was magnified over the summer when the days stretched long, without much in the way of routine or structure, but school starting hasn’t slowed the questions. As a list-maker and a planner, I usually have an answer for them. Something as simple as, “Going to the store then the pool,” or “You have school then gymnastics” is generally enough to satisfy them. It’s when things don’t go according to plan that the problems arise. For all of us.

Toward the end of the summer, one morning I found myself squatting next to my youngest, Sela, in the front of a packed sanctuary, trying to convince her that VBS was in fact a very fun place to be and that she should stay for the morning. My plan for those three precious hours included exercise (preferably solo) and some non-4-year-old-friendly errands. I rather liked that plan. As Sela looked around at the loud chaos around her, her eyes big and round and scared, I saw my plan dissolving like a bubble on grass. As I left the sanctuary with her in tow, my mind whirled through what my morning was supposed to look like and what it would actually look like.

Opening my tight fists and allowing things to be as they are rather than mourning what I wish they were takes a gentleness and grace that doesn’t come naturally to me. And it’s not just with the kids and how the days will go. I think a lot of it has to do with this idea of perfection and how nothing measures up to how I think it’ll be in my head.

Not that I think anything will actually be perfect — I know enough to know that’s not possible. But in the quiet, before the day starts, it’s easy to visualize the kids getting along, sharing their toys, not retaliating. I see myself having uninterrupted time to work on my book, finessing the words into something meaningful and beautiful. I imagine myself getting ready for the day and being satisfied with what I see in the mirror. I see myself in the kitchen, lovingly preparing a meal to nourish my family, and them appreciating the work that went into it.

Then the day begins and things fall apart! But the thing is, it’s okay. It has to be okay when things don’t go according to plan, because honestly, they rarely do. One kid needs a little extra Mama time to the detriment of my alone time. Tempers flare and apologies are necessary.

I’m all the time telling my oldest, Kate, that sometimes we have to switch gears and go in a different direction than we planned, and that it’ll be just fine. I obviously need to keep preaching that to myself, too. The morning Sela decided to run errands with me rather than go to VBS, I buckled her back into her carseat, all the while internally huffing and puffing about my derailed morning. She settled into her seat, turned to me with a little smile, and said, “Thanks Mama.” I kissed her on the nose and reminded myself some things are more important than lists and plans.

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