Nothing Is Worth More Than This Day

I wear this bracelet pretty much every day. It was a Mother's Day gift years ago from a very perceptive husband who has learned the art of trolling his wife's Pinterest account. (Husbands: take note.) But like the overflowing piles of laundry in our closets, I see it so often I sometimes fail to take any notice of it at all.

The inscription is a quote from the German writer Goethe, "Nothing is worth more than this day." 

That quote says so much so simply. And it has become a part of my daily uniform because I am in desperate need of the reminder. I've always been one to run ahead of myself and think about the next thing. In high school I couldn't wait to get to college. During college I was so ready to get out in the big bad world and start my own life. Now that I'm the mom to 4 tiny people, I am constantly battling my desire for them to grow up already.

Often I catch myself hurrying through the day - rushing through breakfast so we can start school. Anxious thinking about the laundry that needs to be folded while reading a story or the dinner that should be prepped while giving the kids baths. From 4pm-6pm I'll be longing in my heart for B Daddy's arrival - and once he's home, eagerly waiting for the kids' to go to bed at last so that we can catch up. When we finally crash into each other on the couch...instead of connecting with this man I am so smitten by, I'll catch myself phone in hand, addictively scrolling. Scrolling for what?? For something more? Something I'm missing?

Often I find myself wondering what life will look like in 5 years when the kids are a little older. Or what my world will be like in 10 years when we have high schoolers. What will we be doing when the kids head off to college? Will I write more? Maybe teach something? Will we take that trip to London together? Hike the AT? Will I finally lose the last 5 pounds? Maybe we'll build our dream home?

Thinking about these things gets me excited. My heart beats faster. I think about how much fun "future me" will have. I picture how put-together she will be and the great dinner parties she'll host. I start to idolize future me over current me. Future me has more options, more money, more freedom. And then I have to stop and remind myself, future me is a FANTASY Katie. 

It's incredibly tempting to throw cold water on the life I'm currently living.  To eagerly wish away this season of Cheerios and applesauce, laundry and grocery lists.

I can go an entire day and miss this. This present life. 

I'm not a student anymore, anxious about the future. Worrying about my career, my future, my family. I am 33 years old. I know myself well and I like who I am. After 10 years of married life, my relationship with B Daddy is as open and honest as it has ever been and we are in a fun, healthy place. Somehow I made a choice at 22 that proves smarter and smarter each year. My four kids are funny and (mostly) sweet and right now perfectly healthy. They LOVE being with me. Yes, too much at times, but still. They have yet to turn down an offer of reading a book or playing a game with Mom. They aren't old enough that I worry over the choices they are making. I don't stay up late at night wondering where they are. I may have 5 pounds to lose, but I can fit into skinny-enough jeans and I'm comfortable forsaking the fashion trends that don't flatter my postpartum body. I don't throw lavish dinner parties, but I love to grab Panera with my tribe of mama friends. And I am working to make new, non-mama friends. I have family who live near us and who we like to be around.  

I may never get to a different season. I don't say that to be morbid, but just to remember that the future may not be the greener grass I imagine it to be. It's a daydream, a happy hope, a possibility and nothing more. 

This beautiful rainy morning is all I have. And it is enough. Nothing is worth more than this day.


Are you in a season of wishing away your current situation? What are the things you take for granted now that you'll probably miss desperately in 5 or 10 years?