12 Things to Keep You From Losing Your Crackers in a Cracked Up World

When I was a young mom with four small kids, my days started early and ended late. I’d count down the hours until naptime and then until my husband got home from work and then bedtime. I was a walking hourglass. It wasn’t that I dreaded the days. We had a lot of fun times, filled with moments of learning punctuated by funny things that happened.

Emotionally, though, it was overwhelming, and that’s what made it exhausting. When people would ask what I did and I would tell them I was a mom, it felt patronizing.

Just a mom?

“That’s the hardest job in the world,” they’d say and then walk away.

Sure, it was hard, but it wasn’t…interesting.

Believe it or not, I agreed. It wasn’t really that hard. (I’d been doing laundry and making food for years before I had kids.) What it was, though, was emotionally exhausting.

When Gavin got home. I would fall into his arms, my own weary from rocking babies and picking up toys and putting away laundry. I needed someone to share the overwhelming responsibility of managing toddlers and a colicky baby. (We’d joke that “colic” is when the baby is crying and so is mom.)

And that’s how quarantine feels.

Everyone is absolutely right—sitting at home and watching Netflix isn’t hard when we compare our “war” with the real one that was fought in the 1940s. We can do this (pump fists)! But let’s be honest with ourselves about the sacrifice we are making—our war is being played out on an emotional battlefield.

And so, there’s a few things I’ve learned that have made these days a little easier. I hope they help you, too.

1. Get up and go to bed at the same time everyday.

   I don’t have anything on my schedule, and it’s tempting to sleep in everyday. “I’ll just get up whenever I feel like it,” I tell myself. But getting up and going to bed at the same time sets your body’s circadian rhythm and keeps you from sleeping too much (which is not a good thing). Seven to nine hours is normal and healthy for most adults ages 18-64 years old. Longer sleep is associated with cognitive impairment, depression, pain, and inflammation. Staying in bed longer will not help you feel better.

2. Start the day slowly…and quietly.

   This will set the tone for the entire day. You may not be able to control how the day goes, but you can control how it begins. Whether that’s journaling, just reading the verse of the day in your Bible app, or giving thanks as soon as your eyes open and your feet hit the floor, do something proactively to calibrate your thoughts. I have a friend who sets her alarm to this podcast. She maintains that it helps control her anxiety.

3. Make the beginning of your day about output, not input.

   It is so tempting to turn on the TV first thing in the morning or even scroll through social media. You should be informed, but the news is scary and can cause a lot of anxiety. Don’t let it derail your entire day. Instead, do something productive first. Go for a walk. Make breakfast. Prep dinner. Paint your nails. It doesn’t matter what you do as long as you’re the one calling the shots. Don’t begin your day in a reactive state of mind.

4. Do one thing everyday that acts as your anchor win.

   Get dressed. Plan this week’s meals. Organize the pantry. Any one of these things alone can be an anchor win—even if you don’t do one more darn thing. That’s okay. You did your one thing, so you won today.

5. Set boundaries with your kids.

   You do not have to be their everything. If you’re on the phone, taking a bath, having a cup of coffee…you are unavailable. Tell them they are not allowed to interrupt. If you are home schooling, then make your own “office hours.” These are the times when you are available to answer questions or help with work. The other hours belong to you. Remember, Mommy needs a break, too.

6. Use any extra time to start doing something you’ve always wanted to do.

   Quarantine is a great time to establish new rituals. One friend has a “morning meeting” every single morning with her kids. Another has finally enlisted her kids to help with housework. Me— I am reading aloud to my daughter every night. I actually started doing it right before quarantine, but we’ve solidified the habit over the last few weeks because we’re always home in the evenings. My older daughter is in college and lives in an apartment by herself. She drives home for dinner every night, and even though she herself has never enjoyed reading, I’ve “tricked” her into staying at our house until after I’ve finished the nightly chapters.

7. Plan low cost investments that act as incentives for your life.

   Give yourself a gift. I ordered gourmet soft pretzels as a treat for my family. My daughter colored parts of her hair blue. My son found an iTunes gift card hidden in a drawer and bought a new game. These are low cost investments that bring joy. Right now…it truly is the little things.

8. Be compassionate.

   We carry a collective grief, and the burden is heavy. Please remember your friends who may be experiencing quarantine differently than you. Our friends with kids who have special needs no longer get the respite that school provides. Check on them. Friends who don’t like to cook are finding themselves stuck in the kitchen. Send them a sample menu plan. Our elderly neighbors feel isolated and lonely. Pick up a few groceries and leave them on the porch. All of our normal outlets for energy management have gone away. Work, school, and friendship look different. We’re all dying a little bit inside. Wherever you can, be an encourager.

9. Measure the gain, not the gap.

   We are all grieving loss—missed milestones, family celebrations, and special occasions. But we’re learning how to do new things, too. We’re failing. But we’re also discovering new strengths. Celebrate the ways you have grown as a person in the last few weeks, not the ways you have really messed things up. Give grace where grace is due.

10. Expect the best, but prepare for the worst.

    You want to believe that we won’t be living like this for very long, and so stay hopeful—not that you will be done sheltering in place by Easter or by the time school gets out in June or by the time it starts up again in August. Setting artificial deadlines will only set you up for disappointment.

    In Man’s Search for Meaning, psychiatrist and Holocaust survivor Viktor Frankl articulates the necessity of hope through his time spent as a prisoner at various concentration camps during WWII. He wrote that between Christmas 1944 and New Year’s 1945 the camp’s sick ward experienced a death rate “beyond all previous experience,” not due to a food shortage or worse living conditions, but because, “the majority of the prisoners had lived in the naïve hope that they would be home again by Christmas.” When this hope was unmet, prisoners found no reason to continue holding on, nothing to look forward to. When a mind lets go, so does its body. Don’t let go of hope.

11. End your day with this question: What was the BEST thing that happened today?

    It might be something you did or something you learned. Yesterday, our family walked to the lake behind our house. We skipped stones and took pictures as the sun set. It was the perfect reminder that despite what’s happening around us, beauty is everywhere—if only we are willing to look for it.

12. And finally, live firmly rooted in the present.

    As I write this post, I am already wondering about what will happen this fall. Will my younger kids get to go to summer camp? Will my older son, who is a Senior this year, have a freshman orientation at his college? Will I be stuck inside this house forever? The future is filled with uncertainty and fear. Again, I’m reminded about what it was like to have little kids in the house, and how we survived those long days mostly spent putting out fires. I could not imagine the day when my babies would one day pour their own juice or go to school. That day felt so far away. But like everything in life, even those long days were temporary. And so is this.

“Faith: an encounter with God that transforms our daily reality. ”

And so by faith, I am taking one day at a time.

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WINSday on Wednesday--The Future We Create is Now

Loving People

“Be kind for everyone you meet is fighting a great battle”

— NOT Plato (although no one really knows for sure)

We have all read this quote, and every time we do (even if it’s for the hundredth time) we take a deep breath and act a little nicer because we know it’s true—everyone IS dealing with something hard.

My friend, Ashley Jones, is the inspiration for today’s WINsday on Wednesday. She’s the founder of Love Not Lost, an organization that celebrates life and supports people in grief by photographing families facing a terminal diagnosis. (You can watch our interview here.)

Ashley and her husband tragically lost their only daughter to Spinal Muscular Atrophy eight years ago. She has made it her life mission to help other families facing a terminal diagnosis walk through their own grief while creating lasting memories with the time they have left.

Ashley prayed hard that God would heal her beautiful daughter.

But when she heard very clearly that it was not to be, she resolved to walk right through the pain, knowing full well that God would use her experience of loss to help other families. Grief, she says, is unique to every individual, but there is power in being able to grieve free of judgment, fear, or expectations.

The question she challenges all of us with is:

“How can I love people better?”

And in grief, especially, it’s so hard to know what to do. We don’t want to do or say the wrong thing, so it’s tempting to do nothing.

But what if instead of doing nothing, we decided to do something that would make a difference not only here and now but for generations to come?

Am I creating the world I want to leave for future generations?

This idea is not a new one.

The Iroquois Indians, to whom we owe much of our current way of living, abided by something called the Seven Generation Principle: The Seventh Generation takes its name from the Great Law of the Haudenosaunee, the founding document of the Iroquois Confederacy, the oldest living participatory democracy on Earth. It is based on an ancient Iroquois philosophy that:

“In our every deliberation, we must consider the impact of our decisions on the next seven generations.”

The Great Law of Peace protected freedom of speech, freedom of worship, and the rights of women. The tribes instituted three branches of government, including two houses and a grand council, and originated the notion of separation of powers and checks and balances. The founding fathers adopted many principles of the The Great Law of Peace, but notably they ignored the seven generation principle and the empowerment of women.

Big mistake, Benjamin Franklin. Big mistake!

I heard one time that when people pass away they are usually only remembered in conversation for about five years afterwards. As for generational legacy, we’re lucky to know our grandparents, it’s rare that we know our great-grandparents, and rarer still that we have ever even met our great-great grandparents. All of us want to live a life of meaning and purpose. We want to be remembered, not only for the things we’ve done, but for the human beings we are. We want a legacy that lasts!

I used to work with families who have kids with cancer. Those parents had two big fears:

1. That their child might die, and

2. If their child did die, that he/she would not be remembered.

For many of these families, stewarding the legacy became the driving force of their mission. They started foundations and wrote books and spearheaded campaigns that would keep the memory of the child alive.

Faced with mortality, they became obsessed with immortality. And it was beautiful. To see these legacies live on in the hearts of the people that loved them most was heartwarming. Not only that, but these mission-driven families ensured that their children’s lives, though short, were not lived in vain.

There is a connection between the emotional moments that happen to us and the creative moments that we make happen.

These emotional moments sometimes manifest as interruptions, inconveniences, or gross injustices. But if we live each day in holy expectation, the moments become invitations to join God in the work of bringing more hope and love into the world.

There’s a famous play called Our Town by Thornton Wilder. It chronicles life and death spanning twelve years in a fictional small town called Grover’s Corners. In Act III, Emily, one of the main characters, has died giving birth to her second child and is allowed to return to earth to relive one day, her twelfth birthday. The other cast members urge her not to go back, telling her the memory will be too painful since she knows what will happen in the future. Emily ignores the warning, and her pain becomes our pain.

---

From the play, Our Town by Thornton Wilder:

Emily: “Oh earth, you’re too wonderful for anybody to realize you.” (She looks off toward the stage manager, then abruptly). “Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it?—every, every minute?” 

Stage Manager: “No.” (Pause.) “The saints and poets, maybe—they do some.”

---

These lines are tragic, not only for their rawness, but for their truth.

The present is a gift.

We never know what courageous choice we make today will inspire another person. In one hundred years, no one will remember my name or yours. Like the generations that came before me—the ones I don’t remember and probably never knew—I, too, will be but a footnote in somebody’s attic scrapbook. I will never know my ancestors, but I am a product of their legacy— their faith and work ethic and family values and love of learning and courage.

Like my friend, Ashley, we all have the capacity to make life better for the next generation.

And that’s pretty cool.

What can you do to create a lasting legacy for your family and generations to come?

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In Defense of Ordinary

The Dream

Have you ever had a dream that felt so real you woke up and felt like you had to write it down, immediately? Have you ever had a visceral reaction to something that literally happened in your sleep?

I ask because that’s what happened to me last night.

I had a dream that I was talking to my therapist. This was weird because I don’t even have a therapist but I have been listening to Lori Gottleib’s book, Maybe You Should Talk to Someone on Audible. In the dream, I guess I was meeting with her.

She began our session with that old standby: “So what brings you here today?”

And I said, “I’m not really sure. My husband made the appointment.”

This part was a direct replay of a conversation Gavin and I had had earlier that night. Gavin has been listening to the book, too, and I think he thinks I need to go to therapy. Teasing me, he said if I made the appointment I’d probably act like I didn’t know why I was there. I guess that means I most definitely do need to go to therapy.

True story.

So then she (the therapist) switched gears and said, “Tell me about yourself.”

And so I launched into this story about my life that began with college, with choosing biology over literature (because I thought it would be more challenging), applying to medical school, getting rejected, and then getting waitlisted, and finally receiving that long-awaited acceptance letter only to decide that motherhood was the path I needed to take (because challenging or not, the truth was I didn’t really want to go to medical school). I talked about spending the next two decades wondering about my destiny, if my choices were the right ones, and if I would ever truly find my way. My words were laced with disappointment.

And even in the dream I was disappointed in myself for verbalizing the disappointment to a complete stranger.

“Only boring people get bored,” is a phrase I love to tell my kids, but secretly I’ve always felt like I was the boring one. All the striving, the countless hours I spent trying to prove that the work I was doing mattered—and for what? So I could do something that other people found interesting? That other people would appreciate? That other people would validate?

If I was waiting for someone else to give me the credit I thought I deserved, I was going to be waiting a lifetime.

An Ordinary Day

But just before I woke up, I remembered watching these old home videos. And the ones I liked the best weren’t the ones with the awards ceremonies or the birthday celebrations or the recitals. They were the everyday ones, with the house a mess and the kids too and everybody just being themselves on an ordinary day.

There was this one video where I was feeding our new baby her first bites of solid food and in walks my four-year-old. He opens the fridge, searching for a snack. “Would you like some cheese?” I ask as I shovel another spoonful of cereal into the baby’s mouth. And then his little friend ambles into the frame. And there they are—just two friends hanging out after preschool on a Tuesday. It was so beautiful and ordinary. In the video, Gavin hands them a juice box, and they slurp it up and walk away. I dip the spoon into the cereal again.

In another, my daughter is at a dress rehearsal for her spring dance recital. She’s watching the girl in front of her, and so she’s a half-step behind through the entire dance, and I am laughing because we’ve joked about this often over the years. Dancing was never her thing. She’s an artist, an observer. Watching is what she does best. She paints; she doesn’t dance.

My other son is making faces at the dinner table. He’s usually so serious, but today he is being silly. He never smiles for the camera, but here he is—hamming it up as if he’ll finally annoy us so much we’ll have no choice but to turn the camera away from him. Instead, we keep rolling. He’s missing his front teeth, and he’s adorable.

There’s one of my baby girl, lying on a rug in the bathroom while water fills the tub. She is laughing and kicking her legs, and I remember with fondness how much she loved those evening baths. On extra fussy days, I’d just run the bathwater, swaddle her up, and rock her for hours on end.

They say the little things are really the big things, but those words never felt true for me. I could never understand why I felt behind, left out, out of touch, and dumb. While other people were getting promoted and meeting interesting people, I was home raising my kids. In my heart, I knew I was doing important work, but lacking the recognition, the narrative became one of martyrdom rather than maturation.

The home movies reminded me that motherhood was the part of adulthood I liked best.

And when I watched the videos, I found myself searching for the things that were just out of focus—those nuances I might have missed if I was zooming in on the subject only.

In an article by the American Psychological Association, painting teacher and landscape artist David Dunlop tells students “to stop identifying objects and instead see scenes as collections of lines, shadows, shapes and contours.” He says that by doing this, the artists’s sketches become more three-dimensional and complete.

In the dream, I felt like my pretend therapist was saying, “All along you’ve had exactly what you always wanted. And you almost missed it.”

Except she didn’t say that. Not those words. And not out loud.

Instead, all by myself, I realized that failing to notice the lines, shadows, shapes, and contours of my own life, I had internalized an incomplete picture of my reality. Eventually, it took on a shape I didn’t even recognize.

An Extraordinary Life

I woke up, but my eyes remained closed. I let that truth wash over me. I had spent the last twenty years stepping over the ordinary as if they were legos scattered across my living room floor. Instead of picking up the pieces, I walked around what was right in front of me. Miraculously, the house still got built, the kids got raised, and the marriage survived. We built the life we wanted, not because of anything I did, but in spite of it.

And for that I am grateful. As I sit here on the couch right now writing this blog post, the dog sleeps curled on a pillow by my hip. My two younger kids are playing a computer game together. My son helps my daughter study for a science test. They are friends, and they love each other. Why in the world would I wish for more when everything I could ever want sits right next to me?

Even ordinary days hold extraordinary magic.

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In Life--Improvise the Middle, but Plan Your Ending

It’s never too late to write the kind of ending that leaves people wanting more.

Last night, Gavin and I went to Improv Night at our local, community theatre.

I haven’t seen improv in years, and I loved every minute. I did A LOT of improv in high school, so maybe it was nostalgia or maybe it was just late for me on a Friday night, but I laughed and laughed and laughed. Almost as funny as the actors were the audience themselves. Our audience wasn’t too quick on the uptake, and since we were sitting in the back, I just found them to be extra funny. Plus, the host was really good at making witty comments about some of the suggestions being shouted from the front seats. In between games, a stand-up comedian did bits from a set he’s working.

It was a bargain date night at only $8.

If you’ve never been to Improv, the premise is simple: The audience provides the inspiration, and the actors take their cues from them. It’s a form of live theatre in which the plot, characters and dialogue of a game, scene, or story are made up in the moment. Improv is fun for the audience because there’s always an element of surprise, and it’s fun for actors because the process helps them build confidence, courage, and creativity.

When it was time to play a new game, our host would pull a slip of paper out of a bucket. After the show, I mentioned to Gavin that the last game was the best one. I said, “I’m so glad they ended with that one.”

And he said, “Didn’t you notice? That slip of paper was yellow and all the others were white. He knew he was going to pull that one out last.”

My next thought was, “That’s so smart!”

Even in improv, where the whole point is to make stuff up and just see where it goes—the actors knew how they wanted the show to end.

Let’s analyze the process.

The first rule of improvisation is to agree. I learned that from Tina Fey’s memoir, Bossypants. But I also learned that from Ms. Bishop—Intro to Drama, 9th grade, Fayette County High School. Seriously, though, this rule is plain ‘ol common sense. Nobody likes a naysayer. If at all possible, AGREE. The premise is easy: One person starts the scene and the other person agrees. Everybody begins on the same page.

Rules 2, 3, and 4 are just as important:

#2: Always say “Yes and….” (The actors must play off of one other and build the scene. Never, ever contradict another actor.)

#3: Make statements instead of apologetic questions (Questions put undue pressure on a fellow actor to come up with ideas. Make statements, and then be a part of the solution to move the scene forward.)

and finally,

#4: There are no mistakes, only opportunities (Ahh.. and this is a perfect metaphor for life).

You can’t plan what you’re going to do from scene to scene, but if you’re an improvisational actor then you can plan how you want your audience to feel at the end of the night.

Psychologists call this the Peak End Theory of Pain and Pleasure.

These actors were onto something.

The Peak End Theory posits that we measure the value of an experience based on how we felt during the peak moments of the experience as well as how we felt at the end of the experience. According to Positive Psychology, findings supporting peak-end theory suggest that a small improvement near the end of an experience can radically shift one’s perception of the entire event.

Peak-End Theory is good news for parents, too, especially ones that worry that they’ve screwed up their kids’ lives. I mean, I didn’t know what I was in for when I had my first daughter at age 25. I had virtually no babysitting experience, had never taken a child development class, and all my friends were just as dumb as me. Now that my kids are getting ready to leave the nest, I can focus on making their last few months with me the most epic of their lives. In theory, therefore, they’ll remember all of childhood as one magical hug in the bosom of mom and dad.

I find this to be an enormous comfort, especially given the stress and anxiety other parents place on each other. It started with, “Is your kid walking yet? How many words do they know?” Then progressed to school and “What kind of enrichment activities are you doing?” Middle school and high school are no picnic for some parents, but I know we’re in the final scene, so while everyone else is all: “Tell me about your SAT and ACT” and “What colleges are your kids applying to?” I want to shout, “Do you remember when we were all pregnant together? Didn’t we say things like, ‘I just want my child to be happy’ and ‘It’s not a competition’ and ‘No one gets a gold star for being a good parent’?

Did we really need to stress out about all those developmental milestones?

Like my friends at iThink Improv, not to mention the infamous George Costanza, I’m going out on a high note.

My oldest daughter is already in her sophomore year of college. We’ve been improvising since the day we brought her home from the hospital. Then we added three more to the mix. A couple of those were surprises too. And guess what? Still improvising. We agreed to raise these crazies, AND we agreed to do our level-headed best. No questions asked. After all, there are no regrets because there are no mistakes—just opportunities to learn and adjust. We’ve cried. We’ve prayed. Maybe we’ve panicked a little. But mostly, we’ve laughed.

I’m taking a page from the iThink Theatre.

It’s time to pull out the yellow slip and save the best for last.

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The Best Advice My Dad Ever Gave Me

Do you remember that episode of Friends, when Rachel’s mother leaves her husband and crashes head-first into Rachel’s life? Rachel is mortified, and her mom is certifiable, but she did say something that always stuck with me, probably because it struck a little too close to home. She said,

“I went straight from my father’s house, to the sorority house to my husband’s house.”

I did that, too, but it’s a choice I’d make over and over again. My husband’s house became our home. And wherever we are all together is always my favorite place to be.

But before I moved out of my parents’ house for good, my dad said this:

“Never do anything the first year of marriage you don’t want to do the rest of your life.”

You’re welcome. :)

It was the first piece of advice I ever received from someone I respected who had been married for a long time.

And it’s advice that has served us well. I never would have imagined then that all the things I might have done during our fairytale first year could have come back to haunt me.

What it did was open up a line of conversation about the things we both wanted to do and how we were going to share responsibility and contribute to our joint household in the future. I don’t mind doing the laundry; he likes to fold the clothes. I like to cook; he’s always happy to do the dishes. I will gladly pick up discarded socks and underwear as long as the last one out of the bed in the morning accepts the responsibility of making it. These trade-offs have worked well for us. These are small things, I know. But we were only 21 when we got married. We still had a lot to discover about ourselves and the world—especially as we embarked on other firsts—navigating our first jobs, figuring out graduate school, giving birth to our first kid, and purchasing our first home.

They say how you do anything is how you do everything.
We wanted to get it right.

In honor of Father’s Day, I thought it would be fun to highlight the best advice our dads ever gave us. As a blog written primarily for women, it’s easy to leave the guys out of the content I share. But I’m a product of both my mother and my father. I was lucky enough to have a dad that made me feel valued and loved. I believe girls need both female and male role models. And my dad is one of the best!

Because of him, I knew exactly what kind of man I wanted to one day marry. What had been modeled for me growing up was good enough to keep the tradition going.

When I asked some friends to tell me about their own dads, they eagerly shared some of the best advice they ever heard:

“Lean into the hard things, you will be glad you did and come out stronger than you thought you were.”

— Jennifer Snyder's Dad

Strength is often defined as the ability to withstand pain. Women learn to withstand a lot of pain, and I love that Jennifer’s dad is the one who told her that she is stronger than she thinks. Our bodies can withstand so much more than we give them credit for. But there’s also other kinds of hard things (i.e. relationships, careers, kids), conflict we’d like to avoid altogether, but rememberTHERE IS NO GROWTH WITHOUT PAIN.

Good advice, Dad.

“My dad didn’t give a lot of advice, but he asked a lot of questions, which usually got me thinking in the right direction. ”

— Melanie Dale's Dad

Two things I love about this piece of advice: It’s a proven fact that asking more questions makes us more likeable, so Melanie’s dad was smart to ask questions, especially when Melanie was in middle and high school. Parents can seem so out of touch at that age. We like our friends more than our parents, so Dad asking questions was a great strategy for keeping the communication lines open. I think questions are also a great way to help us understand the WHY behind the things we believe and the things we do. You better have a good answer if you’re about to do something dumb!

Good advice, Dad!

“Write down your goals and dreams so you can go back and see what God has done and see your success. Unwritten goals are just wishes.”

— Amy Myers's Dad

This is one of my favorite pieces of advice. Bill Gates said that people overestimate what they can accomplish in one year, but they underestimate what they are capable of accomplishing in ten years. Writing down your goals gives you a framework for celebrating all the wins along the way.

Good advice, Dad!

“Be blessed and be a blessing.”

— Sara Stewart's Dad

Oh, this one is just beautiful! What a great piece of advice because it’s so others-focused. Isn’t it true that when you are a blessing to others you yourself are the one who ends up blessed?

Good advice, Dad!

“Try to understand what other people are experiencing. Give them a chance. There is something good in all of us.”

— Jennifer Turner's Dad

My friend, Jennifer, has a heart of gold, and she got it from her dad. She finds the best in everyone, and everyone loves her because of it.

Good advice, Dad!

“Remember, it’s what’s CAUGHT, not what’s TAUGHT, that matters most.”

— Ginny Starr's Dad

This is one of those quotes that popped up again and again. Our role models always SHOW us what’s important rather than TELL us. Show, don’t tell, is good advice for writers, and it’s good advice for us.

Maybe you didn’t grow up with a dad who shared a lot of wisdom with you. Maybe you grew up at the school for hard-knocks or had to find your own way or had a lot of strong women who guided you through those early, pivotal years. No matter how you got to where you are today, I hope you will share what you’ve learned with the next generation. We are always better together.

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Your Magical Staycation: Stay Home, Save Money, and Have Fun

We’re on Spring Break this week, and it seems like everybody I know is either at the beach or at Disney World. Except us. I’m not complaining. Home is my favorite place in the whole wide world. And besides, I’ve already been to Disney World, and the rumors are true—it’s every bit as magical as they say: The cast, the rides, even the lines. The magic is in the details.

But you know what’s NOT magical? The crowds, the prices, and the wait times. And depending on the season—the heat. If you weren’t already planning to go, maybe those four things alone have convinced you to SAVE YOUR MONEY and STAY HOME. I’m kidding (sort of), but if you do find yourself at home like me this Spring Break, there are some things you can do to make your staycation feel a little more magical.

When I was kid, I had lots of time to play. We didn’t need a fancy schedule because there was nothing to remember. Go to school. Come home. Do homework. Go outside and play. Repeat. These days, my kids have their own color coded tab on our family’s electronic calendar. When we have downtime, it takes them a couple of days to decompress. We can help them by jump-starting those creative juices with some ideas of our own.

Make It Monday:

Crafty moms, this is your day! I’m not that mom, but I can surf Pinterest like a boss, so you (yes you) are bound to find the perfect craft just by going straight there and typing in something like: “easy crafts for toddlers” or “easy crafts for teens” or “foolproof crafts for moms.” I’m not crafty, but I do like to cook, and sometimes I even let my kids help. My son wants to learn how to make sushi, so I bought a simple kit from Uncommon Goods. And my daughter likes to bake. We can crack eggs and whip cream all day. I found a simple recipe for chocolate croissants I can’t wait to share with some friends we’re planning to see this week!

 Try it Tuesday:

There are so many things to try! Does your town have a skate park? Load up the bikes and scooters and roller blades. My first and last time on roller blades I crashed into a car and ended up with a badly bruised tailbone. That was almost twenty years ago. Maybe it’s time for me to strap in and get ready for the ride of my life once again. The skate park has many flat areas, is fully enclosed, and is safely removed from the parking lot full of cars. If all else fails, I’m not too old to get on a razor big wheel and go to head-to-head with the local kindergarteners. This is my year to be brave and try new things!

 Water Wednesday:

Middle of summer? Great! A warm Spring day? Better than perfect! Spread a tarp in the middle of your grass, drag out the hose, and pour on the dish soap. The kids will have the time of their lives. The grass will be ruined, but I promise it will grow back. Middle of winter? Take a bath! You can read more on the perfect bath here. We have a huge tub in our master bathroom, and I never let the kids use it. They would think it was a real treat! Don’t have a bathtub? Don’t worry! My favorite part of going to the salon is having my hair washed. Wash the kids hair in the sink. It’s a wonderful relaxing experience. (Warning: They will beg you to do this every time!)

Thinking Thursday:

We live in Atlanta, so there are several great museums. My favorite is the Civil Rights Museum. The Jimmy Carter Presidential Library is also a fun outing. If I don’t want my kids to THINK they’re thinking, then I’ll take them someplace like the Sweet Auburn Market, a fantastic place filled with strange foods and exotic people. Want to stay home? Great! Your kids might think they hate documentaries, but there are lots of interesting ones. I used to make my son watch them as punishment for not getting his homework done, but an unexpected side effect was that he actually fell in love with them and even now is a bit of a history buff. (My current favorite is Won’t You Be My Neighbor?, about Fred Rogers, and you can find it on Amazon Prime Video.)

 Fun Friday or Friend Friday:

Surely your kids aren’t the ONLY ones who are home this week! Invite a friend to play (You need a break by now), but if you truly do feel like the zombie apocalypse has happened and took everybody you know with them to Zorp, then might I suggest a trip to a local assisted living or nursing home? There’s something truly magical about youth and vitality and when your kids share it with others, a beautiful thing happens. Take some treats (sugar free are great for those who have diabetes) and a fun game. We simply blew up a few balloons and purchased some cheap plastic paddles from the Dollar Tree. Our kids had a blast playing a modified version of Badminton/Tennis with their new friends.

You did it! You had a magical week, creating memories your kids will cherish forever. And it wasn’t too hard. You can do anything for five days. And I bet you didn’t even miss the long lines, greasy food, cramped hotel room, or endless car ride at all.

Ready to take it to the next level?

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