Saturdate

A few weeks ago I picked F up from preschool as always and we drove home.

It's exactly a six-minute drive from preschool/work to home. We usually listen to the same 2 songs during that drive. We were waiting to make a left-hand turn when F piped up in the backseat with a simple - yet strong - question.

How was your day, Mama?

It's a question we expect of our colleagues and spouses, friends and acquaintances but I would never expect those words to come from the mouth of my preschooler. It's so... grown up. And so, it became a thing. Every day from that day on, F would ask how my day was and I would ask him about his. During our six-minute drive, he would tell me about his favourite and least favourBite parts of the day and I would generally just tell him my day was good or bad because there's only so much you can say to a four-year-old. 

We have a lot of little things we do, like our weekly Starbucks date (every Friday), and F's bath schedule. One night a week we have pizza and one night a week we have nachos. We watch Octonauts every night before bed. I realized not so long ago that F and I spend a lot of time together without really spending anything actually together and I vowed to change that. 

Tonight, we had our weekly Saturdate - aka our "Saturday date". We do something different every Saturday, whether it's going to the park or going for a walk, grabbing "coffee" together, seeing a movie at the theatres, baking cookies, whatever. We always do something, just the two of us. Sometimes, we don't even leave the house. 

Busy with 10,000 things to do, I bunked down with my laptop to try to get ahead of my list when F came over - smiling as wide as can be - and asked what my "best part" of our date had been. It was a pretty easy answer - the best part of my date was hanging out with him, without anything else to do. But what was his? 

I got to go to McDonald's and have a nice supper, with nice chicken nuggets, and fries and yoooooooooooooogurt and there was a drink and a straw and I got to see Grampy! And then we watched a movie and remember how funny The Croods were?

He said all of this in about 11 seconds, not taking a breath from start to finish and it was pretty much the cutest thing I've ever heard.

It's easy to get completely wrapped up in work and writing and chores and trying to maintain something resembling a social life and squeeze in time for the handsome Hockey Coach, but hearing how much F enjoyed a simple, 30-minute trip to McDonald's is more than enough proof that Saturdate is the most important day of the week. 

Busy

Does knowing your weaknesses make it easier to improve yourself?

 
I’ve known, arguably forever, that I put an exorbitant amount of pressure on myself in all aspects of my life – from school to my personal life, I’ve always felt a need to be the best. In many ways, it’s been the reason behind my success but I can honestly say it’s been my downfall more than once. It’s often impossible for me to keep up with myself.
 
For years, I beat myself up over not doing well enough in this or that. I refused to admit defeat, and don’t even get me started on the process of swallowing my pride and asking for help. My stubborn nature and independence has led me down some slippery slopes, but I think I’m finally figuring out how to keep it together.
 
It took a long time for me to be able to admit to my “crazy”, partially because I felt like it made me a failure. The sense of impending doom that lived in my chest was exhausting and the ups and downs were giving me whiplash. I spent many days feeling like I was stuck – kind of like when I was a kid and I decided to walk in the muck behind my great-grandmother’s, only to lose my boots in the process and need to be rescued. I didn’t like it.

I don’t feel stuck any more.

After weeks of not sleeping, sluggishly dragging my sorry ass to school, struggling to keep my eyes open at work and many tearful phone calls with my Mom I went to the doctor. In spite of my overwhelming desire to deal with my anxiety on my own terms, I just couldn’t do it anymore and waving my little white flag has been the best decision I’ve ever made.
I still get anxious when I’m working towards a deadline or if traffic is heavy and I’m late, but I don’t get anxious about taking the dog outside any more than that’s a wonderful thing. I’m still putting a lot of pressure on myself, piling my proverbial plate so high I can barely see over it but I probably always will.
 

Even armed with the knowledge that I’m often setting myself up for burnout, I jump at the opportunity to get involved with various organizations and squeeze things into my schedule knowing full well I’ll be scrimping on sleep and rushing to get things done. I’m so tired most mornings the bags under my eyes are bigger than my boobs, but I’m sure I’ll slow down someday…

…right after I run the Bluenose 5K with the Autism NS team, organize a breakfast for 400 people, work on the Autism Golf Ball, go to Aqua Zumba every Thursday and squeeze in some time for the boys I love to squeeze. Oh, and get my hair done, paint my nails and walk that thing I call my dog. After I get all of those things done, grab a coffee and pick up some new shoes I’ll slow down.

Not.

Forgot

2013 will be my year.

This, my friends, was the decision I came to while wearing my FANTASTIC onesie pyjamas with F on New Years Eve. We went to bed at 10:30pm, snuggled like two little bugs in a rug, and I promised myself that I would make the best of this year for both of us. Did I mentioned we went to bed at 10:30? Yeah. We're wild like that.

Yep. We're that cool.

Last year, for the first time in my life, I really looked inside of myself and I asked how I was feeling. I couldn't answer that question. It was too hard. I didn't want to admit that I was honestly living my life that way - a ghost of who I really could be, muted and pale. I'm not muted and pale. I'm obnoxiously bright, and possibly even neon. Fluorescent neon. I'm going to do that this year. I'm going to be aware of how I feel. I'm going to let the real me shine through.

When I woke up on January 1, I had only five days to get ready to start my "new life". The life where I'm not just Ashley, the Mom. The one where I'm Ashley, the Mom, Student, Public Relations Professional, Writer and Friend. That Ashley. The one that was hiding in there all along. I went to class (sometimes...), went to work every day, came home and did it all again the next day. I packed lunches before bed, cleaned the house and walked the dog. I puttered along - set in my ways of not coming up for air. I made a serious effort to get to know someone, and a great new friendship has emerged.

And it was all fine and dandy until I slowed myself down last night.

I didn't really have a resolution for this year, but if I accidentally made one and didn't proclaim it... well, I broke it already.

I forgot to check in on my own feelings, and January isn't even over yet. I forgot to ask myself if I needed a break or if I was tired. I've been as hard on myself as ever before, and (as per usual) it caught up with me at lightning-speed. It resulted in me sitting in my car in the parking lot sobbing. Otherwise known as the Ashley Meltdown. Oops.

February 2, 2013 will mark the one year date for my separation. We can file for divorce after that. It's a little scary to me, and a little liberating at the same time. I need to put it all behind me, once and for all and I need to be okay with not necessarily feeling like I'm okay every minute of the day.