2020 has been a dumpster fire for most if us. For myself, I did a year of research for a book in 2019 that I have only written about half of in 2020. I’ve gone from a runner whose weight was going in the right direction to a guy who lacks the social queues to remind him to shower and shave.
For me, what a difference a year makes, around my waistline
specifically.
But this isn’t about my fattitude.
It’s about my wife’s attitude.
Spoiler Alert: if you are of the mind that your Elf on the
Shelf departs every evening to the North Pole to inform the man in red about
your behavior, you may want to skip forward a paragraph or two. I’ll begin
again in 3….2….1….
So last night, my
wife and I were doing our evening duty of finding a new vantage point for
Jingles, our elf to watch our children. I was distracted, probably by a sandwich
judging by my 2020 track record, so Adrienne wound up taking care of it
herself.
I was on the couch when I heard giggling from upstairs. It was Adrienne, pleased with the predicament
she had put Jingles in. It seems Jingles
had been captured by a host of other Christmas toys and was now taped to the
inside of a glass panel in a cabinet.
It was funny, but that’s not what this is about either.
It was her effortless laugh.
You see, for the last couple of year’s Adrienne has had a tough go. She had committed herself to a career that
was perfectly stressful and completely thankless. Her health suffered. Her relationships suffered. Her self-worth suffered. She was unhappy but like so many people she
equated who she was with what she did for a living. She was unhappy, for lack of a better term. A few months ago she left the position unceremoniously.
She added scared to the rest of the
things she was feeling.
But then something funny happened. She didn’t miss it. Sure, there was the sense of impending doom
that comes along with losing a job during a pandemic and there were regrets of
friendships that were lost. There were
no tears, no real anger and no laments.
Once the immediate pant-soiling fear of unemployed in a pandemic
subsided, what was left was someone who realized what she was sacrificing to
keep up with a job that had little interest in her succeeding herself.
Fast forward to December.
Last year, I took care of the holidays pretty much by myself. Christmas was just another day to Adrienne. Something to endure. Phone calls from coworkers that seldom
realized boundaries asking for help despite the fact that it was Christmas Eve. She smiled, sure, but it was forced and
transparent.
This year, I live with a wife that couldn’t wait to cook Thanksgiving dinner, do some Christmas shopping, wrap gifts or even tape an Elf in a shelf. What a difference a year makes.
The lesson here, girls?
Well, it’s an easier one to say than to live by. A job is just a job but your health and your
family are forever. All of you noticed a
change in mommy over those last few months.
Mommy listening to Christmas music and running and eating better. Mommy and I always promise ourselves that if
our work starts getting in the way of our family we would need to
reevaluate. I think this is the best
example we’ve had.
You need to keep in mind what you are doing and what you are
trading to do it. Sometimes the tradeoff
is worthwhile, like giving up your evenings to soccer practice, and sometimes
its not, like giving up family time to watch YouTube. Make a decision to do what betters you and don’t
punish yourself if it takes a while to make the decision.
Now, I’m going to make the decision to go downstairs and spend time with my family instead it ticking away at this keyboard.
