There have been times in my life when nothing much was going on except the routine things of life.
Get up. Get ready for work. Get the kids up. Fix breakfast and pack lunches and a dozen other things to get them off to school. Go to work. Work. Pick the kids up. Get home. Fix dinner. Eat dinner. (What did you do today?” I’d ask. “Oh, nothing,” they’d say. I’d try again, “What happened at school today that was funny?” and a series of other questions to get them to talk.) Homework. TV. Baths. Bedtime stories. Quick chores, reading, nightly call to a friend at the end of a similar routine. Goodnight and then it all began again the next day.
Even the weekends had their regularity. I’d take Amber and Cy to the Children’s Museum of Friday nights (when it was free). They’d go visit their Dad on Saturdays and I, footloose and fancy-free, would go out dancing with my friends. Most of the weekend routines were done to stage us for the next week’s activities. Special occasions would pop up – a birthday here, a recital there, apple picking, but mostly the s a m e r o u t i n e s. Day-in and Day-out. All delightful and predictable.
Everything was everything. Not much sad. Not too happy. No drama. Plenty of peace. And, I often felt a little bored. I was waiting for something to happen. Waiting for my imagined real life to begin, waiting for the one day when…not knowing I was already having it.
I now recognize the blessedness of routines, of “boredom,” of the easy times. I smile when I’m having a stretch of them. ‘Cause when the routines go topsy turvy and drama starts, be it your’s, someone close to you, or at your job, it starts with a vengeance and it tries not to leave.
If you’re lucky, you’ll have years of relative calm. Embrace. Be thankful. Enjoy.