Breaking the routine of worry

I got a wake-up call last Sunday morning to the sound of my two-year-old screaming my name over the monitor. I looked at the clock. 6:13. Her shriek was more of a morning greeting declaring that she was ready to get up rather than out of need. But doesn’t the non-working world sleep in on Sundays?

As a parent, a full-time caregiver, a work-from-home mom – there is no sleeping in. There’s not much sleeping at all unless you go to bed after dinner. My husband works hard and occasionally his alarm goes off at 3AM. Most recently, it’s been at 4. My kids have not yet reached the age of sleep appreciation. In fact, neither one of them can go to the bathroom on their own, yet they have already decided that naps aren’t their thing.

So why is my sometimes angelic, sometimes possessed daughter screaming for me just after 6 on a Sunday morning? She didn’t nap the day before which means she should sleep until at least, I don’t know, 7. I jump out of bed, brush my teeth and enter the bedroom across the hall. She jumps up, happily, grabs a stuffed animal and asks for “up.”

Her brother was also awake, courtesy of her high volume (parents of toddlers know this well). He always wakes up happy and hit the ground running. The two instantly got busy playing. I stripped both of their beds and started a load of laundry. A half hour later, I served them breakfast. I walked by my desk multiple times thinking I should check my email. I didn’t need to. The need to check my email around the clock was a thing of the past but I have yet to break the habit. It’s not as though I don’t have anything to do. I have two small kids to care for. Some people would lose their mind if they were with their kids all the time. Other people don’t have the self-discipline to work from home. I can happily say that I somehow managed to do both until nearly a month ago.

So instead of serving them their breakfast and sitting in the same room with them as I tend to whatever might be in my inbox, I sat down next to them at the table with my cup of coffee. I watched them play games with each other, dribble milk down their chins and finger paint with syrup across the table. I smiled an unsteady smile as my mind wandered.

It has been a tough year. I lost my older brother unexpectedly in April. I spent the latter half of the year in counseling to work through lingering grief. As 2019 rang in, we suspected my Dad had a stroke. He didn’t. He has a brain tumor. Three weeks after the diagnosis, I was laid off. I constantly struggle with a range of emotions. I am worried about my Dad. I worry about finding another job where I can stay at home with my kids. I worry that if I do quickly find another job that I might not be able to spend as much time with my Dad as I would like as we approach his medical course of action. I worry…

I sit with my kids and enjoy the simplicity in their giggles. It’s nice to not have to rush through the moment and get to work. Instead, I savor it for a bit. I look at how big they are getting, yet how small they still are. I think about how lucky I have been to be able to work from home and enjoy all of their developments and discoveries. I think about how much my older brother loved holding my daughter... I wish he was here to see how ornery they both have gotten. He would think it was hysterical that they give me such a hard time.

And then it hit me.

With all of the thoughts of worry and reminiscing whirling around in my head at the same time, my pint-sized mini-me led me to an epiphany of sorts with her early morning wake-up call. One that my brother Kenny often relayed - relax.

Enjoy the laughs. Sit down. Enjoy the ease of not having a routine for a while. Break habits. Enjoy it no matter the challenge, the worries. Make the best of things. Let go of what you cannot control.

Kids know nothing about worry or responsibility, yet something so simple such as her needing me to help get her out of bed finally led me to sit and think for a moment. Life can be busy to the point of being hectic. I had the routine of taking care of two tiny people and balancing a full-time job mastered so well that I didn’t think twice about what needed to get done. It was at times stressful. Challenging. Unforgiving. But I managed to figure it out because I needed to.

Whether it is something as devastating as losing a loved one, or losing a job, there will be days where you may not want to get out of bed. There will be days you will ask, “What am I going to do?” There will be loss. That is life. There will always be scares, worries, and what-ifs. But there will also be love.

I think of my brother and his memory. Love.

I think of my Dad and what a good man he is. Love.

I think of my kids and who they are becoming. Love.

I will find another job. My job did not define me. My titles do. I will always be a mommy, a sister, a daughter, a wife.

Full of love -  and hopefully a lot less worry.


Corinthians 13

So faith, hope, love remain, these three; but the greatest of these is love. 

Amanda Brooks