The Should-Bes Suck Badge

Every time I open the hall closet I see it. If I need to grab a game for the kids, it's there. If the weather turns cold and I need a jacket, it's staring me in the face. If we've run out of tonic (or gin!) in the fridge, I know it's peering down at me. (We pride ourselves on very diverse storage compartments in our home!).

I saw it in my Family Fun magazine at Christmas time. I remember the article, "Our Box of Memories," so fondly. I was excited. I had to make it. It was going to revolutionize my organization skills, unite our family and become a sought-after heirloom for generations to come. It's a fabulous idea. Your family has this box and each night at dinner they write a few sentences about what they did that day on an index card. They store each day's card by the date in a photo box. This is their way to capture the little moments -- a new fish, a friend's visit, a trip to the zoo trip, etc. Then you write on the same card on the same day the next year. Seriously, what a keepsake.

Well, it's not so much a keepsake at our house as it is just another box that falls off the top of the other boxes when I try to grab something from underneath it. I bought our special box with high hopes and great intentions in January. I'm reporting today that it's still empty. Not a single note card has a memory written on it.

I tell myself I'll get to it. I put it on my to-do list. I know I should be doing it. Sometimes I don't even open the closet just so I don't have to see it. Unfortunately, I didn't have that luxury today.

Jack and Evelyn wanted to do Play-doh. Ugh. I knew the stinkin' special box was sitting on top of the doh box. But I had to get it. So, I opened the door, reached for the box I needed and the special one fell and hit me on the head. Really? Really.

I'm tired of having that box in my closet. In fact, I just feel pretty tired of having any "should bes" in my life. They're so draining, aren't they? I can't even count how many times I say that to myself in a day.

When I get out of my car, I think to myself, "I really should be better at keeping my car clean." Then I walk through my garage and I tell myself, "I should be taking some time to organize this mess." I step into the entryway of our house and I see the scuff marks on the wall and the shoes scattered everywhere and I chastise myself again, "I should be doing something about this." No matter where I go -- the kitchen, the bedroom, the bathroom, the den, the backyard, the laundry and storage rooms (should be times 10) -- I can't escape the should bes or the could bes or the would bes.

After a recent bout of "I stink as a mom, a wife, a friend, a woman, I should be doing so much more" depression, I've realized I have but one thing to say to the should bes.

"You suck."

I'm serious. Take away the should, the could, the would and just let me BE. All the joy, all the fun, all the special moments that come with having a family are ruined when I'm living in should-be land. I'm never content enough, never secure enough, never thankful enough, never good enough. I'm always stressed out, always comparing myself to others, always wanting to acquire more, always questioning myself. I'm just no fun at all. Ask my husband.

Well, I'm starting now. I'm saying "You suck" to the should bes and I'm just going to be. I'm going to be in the moment, enjoy it for all that it is, not all that it could or should or would be, if only I...

When I get into my car, I'm going to smile about the strawberry stains on the carpet and thank God for the fun memories I have of picking them with my kids. When I walk into my house and I see the scattered shoes and accompanying dirt, I'm going to thank God for my three active, healthy kids, the ones doctors told me I would never have. When I see the mess in my kitchen, I'm going to thank God I have so much food to eat and so many sweet kitchen appliances (hello, bread maker and Kitchenaid mixer!). When I walk into my laundry room ... um, OK, let's not push it. Laundry will always blow.

And sometimes when I get into my car and I'm really annoyed at how messy it is and I don't feel thankful, that's OK, too. When Jack and Ev are fighting and I want to pull my hair out and send my kids away, that's OK, too. I'm going to rest in just being ... a woman, a wife, a mother, a daughter, a friend ... on a journey of both God and self discovery. Psalm 137.