I Wish I Had Lofty Goals
I wish I had lofty goals.
I started a new project this week, and, as it always does, adding something new into my schedule triggered a need within me to re-evaluate my goals.
After all, I jam pack my 24 hours to just past the full line just like everyone else. Putting something new in, means taking something out. The best way for me to pick what goes is to think about what I really want.
So, last night I thought about what I really want, and I discovered something. Something that I figured would be perfect to share with you on Throwback Day this week, because it brought to mind a column I wrote back in July (much of which I have incorporated below).
I realized I wish I had lofty goals, but I don’t.
I wish my deepest desire was to put out the next best seller or to climb to the top of Yosemite’s Half Dome or to finally fit into those single-digit, purple pants that’ve been hanging in the back of my closet for 4 years.
But, I am a parent, and the true definition of parenthood is adjusted expectations.
And, at this point in my life I have adjusted the heck out of my expectations.
Much as I see the value of leading a Fortune 500 company or winning a Grammy, truth be told, my heart does not long for grand accomplishments.
I wouldn’t throw it out, but it’s not the Nobel Prize I’m craving.
I wish I had lofty goals, but honestly the thing I want most is to go to the bathroom.
No tiny fingers reaching under the door.
No wet noses or fuzzy paws trying to squeeze through.
No jiggling of the knob, sliding down the door, waiting in the hall.
I don’t even mind replacing the toilet paper and filling the hand soap and picking up the towel while I’m in there.
If I could just, please, go to the bathroom alone. Alone.
I don’t want to sign your permission slip. Don’t slide it under the door.
I don’t want to smell your toy truck or your cousin’s picture book or the flower you just picked (ok, put the flower in water. I’ll smell that later).
I don’t want to braid your hair, measure the rice, or put the case on your pillow.
I don’t want to unlock the door so you can give me the cordless phone.
I don’t want to answer the very important phone call from the man who has a “terrific opportunity” for me.
I don’t want to return a text to your brother. Do not shove my cell phone under the door. Again.
I do not want to get the knot out of your shoelaces, the gum out of your hair, or the squished banana out of your backpack.
I don’t want to discuss what the big deal is with JFK or whether global warming is real or who invented the internet.
I don’t want to know how you know the lunch lady wasn’t wearing underpants today, or why your teacher said a cuss word or what made Evan throw up during math.
No, I will not open the door so you can hear me better. I mumbled that because I was cussing at your constant interruptions and I did not want you to hear it.
I do not want to discuss what’s for dinner, where your green shirt with the little picture of a monkey on it is, or what the weather will be like tomorrow so you can pick out your outfit.
I do not want to talk about why you have to leave the lizard in the yard or why your arm is sticky or why LaRissa’s boyfriend is a pig (he is, but if she’s giving out the milk for free he’s never gonna….Never mind. That’s not the point here).
I don’t want to know what the dog just ate, what your brother just said or why your knee smells funny.
I don’t want to hear you burp the alphabet backwards, explain why it’s your sister’s fault you can’t do a handstand, or hear the weird sound the hamster’s making.
I don’t want to guess what or guess who or guess why.
I don’t want to discuss anything.
I don’t want to see anything.
I don’t want to do anything.
I WANT TO GO TO THE BATHROOM!
May I please go to the bathroom?!?!
Laugh Out Loud!
Have your goals have changed over the years? Why do you think that is? What is something you really want right now? Shoot me a comment. I’m looking forward to hearing all about it.