Journaling Reads:
My husband gives the most amazing hugs.

They are truly amazing. He opens his arms wide and envelops you in them just like a little kid. He hugs will all of his soul and regardless of how sad I might be, the hug will instantly make me feel better.

I remember the first time he hugged me and all the times after that how much joy and peace I felt every single time. Even today, my two little kids’ hugs are special but Jake‘s are more so. Maybe it’s cause he’s a grown up, I don’t know. All I know is that I love them all the same.

Because I know the special power of these hugs, on days when I know I am being unreasonable and taking my frustrations out on him, I tell him that all he needs to do is hug me. Sometimes I want to hear advice and have him help me find solutions to my problems but other times I just want to feel one of his amazing hugs and secure and safe in the knowledge that everything will be ok.

There’s nothing one of those hugs won’t cure.

I’ve been feeling really anxious lately. My older son started Kindergarten at a new school today and I’ve been dreading this day like the plague. There are several reasons this transition has been hard on me.

1. I am a person of routine and I really like following a set routine regularly. I know that bores many people but not me. I thrive on it and need it to maintain my sanity most days. New school means new routine, new schedules to worry about, new procedures to remember, new people to meet, new and unexpected problems that I don’t even know about yet.

2. I’ve spent the last few months pondering about the virtues of public vs private school and am still not sure we’re doing the right thing. Or even what the right thing is. Education is really really important to me and is something I want to get right. Now if only these things came with guarantees….

3. This marks the beginning of my son’s school life. A life where he spends 6+ hours of his days nowhere near me. His own life. While I understand this is wonderful in many ways, too, it’s just frightening to me that he’s so young and yet he will get on a bus and go to school and make friends, do things, learn things, and then get on another bus and hopefully not get lost on the way home. Hopefully he won’t get off on the wrong stop. He won’t lose his bus pass. He’ll remember his backpack. He will eat his lunch and put the lunchbox back in the bag for me to fill the next day. He’ll keep track of his homework so he can bring it home. I can go on and on. Thoughts, worries, possible scenarios are just dancing in my head. Keeping me up at night.

The thing is, I know that life always moves forward. That’s the great thing about life: constant change. And we’re arriving at a new phase in his life. One that will involve more independence and responsibility on his part. When I truly think about it, I know he will rise to the challenge. He always does. He’s taking all of this with much more joy and enthusiasm than I am. And I am so proud of him.

I know that some of my fears might come true. (Hopefully most won’t.) But I also know that we can recover from pretty much all of it. What is even more important is that my anxiety and worrying isn’t helping me or him. It’s keeping me up at night and stopping me from being as present as I could be. It’s setting the wrong example to him and sending messages that there’s something to worry about here. When, actually, this is a moment to celebrate. A passage he deserves and welcomes with open arms. As should I.

I am trying to remember a post I made last December. Choosing Joy over worry. Choosing to embrace each moment. Choosing to look at things from a positive stance and be grateful for what’s here. Be grateful that I am there to see him through this amazing new step in his life and the millions of other things I have to be grateful for in general and specific to this path. My husband reminded me today that this is a choice. Every day (and even every moment) I have the choice to be anxious or worried or joyful. Why not take the one that makes me happiest?

So tonight as I review the roads to the bus that will take my son to school tomorrow, I sit with these words. As I worry about how my little boy will do during a two-hour meeting I plan to attend at the school (a meeting that falls inside his nap time), I remind myself that things will go as they will. We will make it through as we always do. We will walk the path.

And so, why not make the choice to walk it with joy?

Journaling Reads:
Over the course of my life, I’ve been to many amazing museums and have been fortunate enough to see great pieces of art. One of the best I’ve been to is The Frick Collection in New York City.

The reason I love this place so much is because it has a truly one-of-a-kind collection of art that is displayed in a beautiful house. What makes this place even more phenomenal is the stunning outdoor area. It’s so very green and peaceful.

When we lived in New York, this was one of my favorite places to go where I could slowly walk around and study each beautiful piece of art and then take my book and sit in the garden.

Now that I have two very young kids and work full time and live considerably far away from amazing museums, I appreciate my days at the Frick even more. I am so thankful that there are people like him who appreciated art so much and chose to spend some of his fortune towards building a collection and then created a place for all of us to come and appreciate it whenever we wanted.

For the last three years, I’ve been taking at least one photo every day. In 2008, it was a photo a day of my older son David. In 2009, it was my then newborn son Nathaniel. This year, it’s both of them. It’s flowers. It’s a special lunch we have or a special trip we took or some present or anything that’s part of our ordinary days.

The thing I’ve learned is that what I miss the most over time is remembering the everyday, ordinary things we used to do. The toy my son was obsessed with at the time. The breakfast I looked forward to every morning. The music my little one danced to, etc. The simple, everyday things are the first things to leave my memory. It’s because they are not monumental. We barely pay any attention to them. They happen every day so their effect has dulled.

But they are so extraordinary because they are artifacts of a specific time in our lives. And capturing them in film allows us to freeze that memory so we can hold on to it forever. So, years from now, we can smile as we remember the fondness of that time. So we can allow it to transport us back to the past and re-live it for just a moment. Remember the smell of my son. The words he mispronounced. The troubles I thought I had at the time and the joys of our then everyday lives. Photographs can work magic like that.

So, today, I challenge you to capture more of your days. More of your ordinariness. I know it feels like a burden to take the photos, to download them, process them, etc. Just make it easy on yourself. Take them at a certain time everyday. Say 10am. Or 8am. or 6pm, whatever works for your schedule. Whenever your life is most ordinary. And then download them only once a week. Don’t process them. Don’t show them to anyone else if you’re worried about them not being “perfect.” But take them anyway. And save them.

Years later, when all these people who might have “commented” on the quality of your photos are long gone, you will be so very glad you have the memories. I promise you, it will be worth it.

Just give it a try.