Kiss my bucket

You know what sucks? Adulting. This week was another eventful week in the land of full-time-working-parent-ville, well, I really hit it out of the park. Here are the highlights:

You know what also sucks? The super helpful advice, recommendations and ‘tips and tricks’ that seem to flood in at the same time. For the record Facebook, I’m not interested in ‘cool sculpting’ nor the ‘Top 10 meal-planning tips’ from working mums <hard eye-roll>

I’m exhausted.

It’s Wednesday.

Sometimes work is like this too. Wrapping up for the day with a still half-drunk and now cold coffee, looking down and see the still full list of to-do items. The scribbled notes of promises made and commitments given. Big things, big project, important tasks and people who are counting on you. It can feel like a treadmill of “to-dos”.

It’s enough to make you curl up under your desk and cry.

You know what is sucks even worse than all that? Worse than the Facebook algorithim that sends me parenting self-help seminars? The passive-aggressive reminders from “My Fitnes Pal” saying I haven’t logged my food or my steps? The pages of to-dos in my diary that I have highlighted and underlined in red?

The way I beat myself up about it.

The complete and utter lack of slack that I give myself. The fact that if I heard someone speaking the way I speak to myself in these moments, I wouldn’t just do something, I would potentially turn into a Power Ranger and do some kind of flying air kick.

So what do you do?Where does one seek out wisdom and guidance and direction? How do you get away from the noise and, at least in my case, out of your own head?

Well, sometimes I cry. But after that. After that, I do two things.

Step 1: I ignite #MyTribe.

#MyTribe are a very special group of people who bring a unique kind of joy, balance and always laughter to my life. They are all very different but have one very important common denominator — they are weirdos. Just like me. Even better, they — like me — love that they are weirdos and embrace that element of themselves fully and completely.

In a world full of advice and tips and tricks and ‘how to’ guides #MyTribe is full of the opposite. They are full of practical help and solutions built from experience. They are doers. When they hear a cry for help, they don’t tell me how I should have done it, they spring into action. They DO something.

And if they cannot do something — like run a pair of PJs to the school for Fiona or carpool Simon to his field trip cause I have meetings — they do the only other thing they can.

They tell me about the time they ran out of milk on SUNDAY and sent their kid to school in PJs on not PJ day. They remind me that Arrowroot cookies are made for babies and therefore basically health food. They remind me that despite my never-ending to do list, I CRUSHED in that meeting and fit in two mentoring meetings and that matters. They remind me that I am having impact in other ways.

#MyTribe remind me that they too, are struggling with this ‘having it all’ thing and failing as badly — or worse — than me. They are in the same space, fighting the same battles, and taking body blows. #MyTribe live up to Brene Brown’s expectations “If you aren’t in the arena, also getting your ass kicked, I’m not interested in your feedback”

Amen.

Step 2: I put my kids to bed <DISCLAIMER: Only attempt this step if these are your kids or you have express permission from the owners to put said kids to bed>

While I stand by my original statement that adulting- and by proxy parenting — sucks, there are some definite upsides. Beyond the fact that putting my kids to bed is the parenting equivalent of clocking out for the day, there is a benefit in the process as well as the outcome. When I put my kids to bed, I can (or in my house I MUST) read them a story. As a result we have a bookshelf full of amazing stories of adventures and challenges and while they are all unique there is a common magic in them.

The magic is the clarity & simplicity. The kind that seems to exist only in childhood and fairy tales. These stories happen in a space unique to childhood. A space governed by known and accepted rules; right and wrong, good and bad, kind and cruel, black and white.

And in the world of adults — where we live in a perpetual state of grey, of rationalization and desired v. actual state — the brief visit to a world of constants is not just a relief, it’s a port of calm in a very stormy sea.

I have a few favourites on the shelf but the one that I reach for most often — if I can negotiate a “mama’s choice” night — is called “Have you filled a Bucket today?” It’s very straightforward that *spoiler alert* goes something like this:

Everyone has an invisible bucket that holds our good thoughts about ourselves. The story calls on children to be ‘bucket fillers’ by being kind, smiling at people, giving compliments, saying thank-you and other general good deeds. The cool thing, the book explains, is that by doing this you not only fill another persons bucket, but you fill your own too.

Of course it also talks about bucket-dippers. People who attempt to fill their own buckets by dipping into others — robbing them of their good thoughts and feelings with unkind words and deeds. But, the book tells us, you can’t fill up your bucket that way. It won’t work. It only results in two empty buckets.

So what do you do? When it’s Wednesday and you’re exhausted and the work-life treadmill is set to 11?

Fill a bucket. Phone a friend. High five the parent who was also late for pick up after school. Commiserate with someone at work who is also getting their ass kicked — and laugh about it. Ideally while eating Arrowroots.

Find your tribe. You have one if you think about it. They are the source of your strength and your power. They need you and you need them. They are your bucket fillers and you are theirs.

It sounds crazy that in the mess of the overwhelming, you should actually look for ways to fill someone else’s bucket. But that’s the magic of it — and I’m telling you it works.

And for all the bucket dippers out there? The bullies and the disbelievers of magic?

Well. They can kiss my bucket. My full, full bucket.

#BucketFiller #MyTribe #KissMyBucket

Related posts:

Have you ever considered becoming a blood donor? It’s a simple and easy process! Have a read of this article to get an understanding of the blood donation process in Trinidad & Tobago

Eu sei que dentro de você, nunca deixou de existir FÉ, e até naqueles momentos em que você se escondeu no seu quarto escuro, você qui ser achada, mesmo que soubesse que ninguém iria te procurar, você…

A mini collection of poetry for a desperate heart. “Our Distance Matters” is published by Sakari Lacross in ILLUMINATION.