Perfect.  All things considered, this day was just truly perfect.  I don’t say this very often.  Sometimes – and I know you’ll agree with me – perfect means blissfully uneventful.  Today, I had uneventful with the bonus of contented nuclear family members.

I hit the gym and then treated myself to a rare pedicure.  I say rare because, frankly, it just takes too darn long for someone else to scrape and polish my feet into presentable appendages. I give the salon people credit: they do a far more thorough job than I ever would. (Must be something secret about available attention spans!)  After some time at home to manage a few volunteer team emails, I met the kids after school for our daily 20-40 minutes on the playground.  Friends and families who had not seen each other since before Christmas shared greetings and hugs.  The first day back to work or school is the same everywhere: Welcome back!  How was your holiday?  Are you ready for the New Year?  All of these familiar, warm, sincere – even if a bit clichéd – tidings ground us in the present even when we don’t want to be.

I encountered a friend and fellow board member with her preschooler and the newest addition to their family: an eight-week old Chihuahua puppy!  I tend to not gravitate toward other peoples’ dogs, but this one was so tiny and cute that I could not help myself.  I scooped that little blond sliver right up from the ground.  He was so tiny that his Mom didn’t need to hold the leash; she just rested one foot over it.  It was cold today, and this little specimen was shivering for his life.  And I was under the unexpected spell of “protect, adore, and tend to this little creature, STAT!”  He was so small, it was like holding a kitten.  Another parent walked up and commented on his cuteness.  She then added that she once offered to the spouse that they could have a third child or get a cat.  They got a cat.  When most people approach strange dogs and unfamiliar owners, I hear them ask, “May I pet your dog.” I asked my friend, “If I pick him up, will he pee on me?”  He did not.

What else made this day perfect?  Peaceful children; specifically, mine.  Most days, my guys are reasonably pleased with the world and all that that is amidst.  Being the first day back after a break, I anticipated an after school meltdown.  Not to be.  Eldest was content, playful and cooperative.  He responded to the first notice when it was time to leave.  Often, it takes three announcements and a fair amount of tracking down to extract him from the playground.  My youngest reported two thumbs up when asked about his day.

Dinner was exceptional in that neither the spouse nor I barked at the kids.  There’s a paradigm out there called “Calm Parenting.”  We aim for Calm Dining. The boys ate what they were served without protest.  Did I mention homework was completed before dinner?  I don’t want to get my hopes up, but this is a really exciting start to the new year.

Maybe what I experienced today is a snapshot of how I might experience life in 2013.  I should be so lucky.  What changed in order for me to be so satisfied with such a regular day?  It wasn’t just a regular day:  it was a contented day.  I’ve been working on adapting the way I think about time.  Notice I did not say changing or improving, but adapting.  I used to imagine time in chunks, as in, “I have six half days this week to myself.  How can I cram in the shopping, the cooking, the volunteering responsibilities, the job hunting, the writing, and keep the laundry moving, all in timely and efficient manners?”  Trial and error shifted that line of thinking (and its lack of tangible outputs) to trying to manage time in two-hour concepts.  As in, “I have two hours today.  What is the most important thing to get done?”  You know me and you know where this is going.  Things don’t get done.  They get started or they get left unfinished.  Satisfaction equaled nil and frustration reigned.

Sometime in the last four weeks, I found liberation by creating/ performing/ providing/ doing/ and made stuff happen in ten minute action periods.  This more-forgiving – and  more present – approach hit a genuine stride for me in the week before Christmas.  I concentrated on preparing gifts during daylight hours so I wouldn’t have to stay up late.  And we all know that at 40-something, late equals 9 p.m., sometimes 8 p.m., and once in a blue, 7:30 p.m. is just way too late to make or take calls.  The key word back there was concentrated. I specifically did not say espoused or planned, but concentrated.  And something amazing happened for me.  Stuff started getting done.  Groceries were put away, not lingering in brown paper bags that their non-perishable contents were required.  PTA tasks hanging over my head went out the door.  And people responded.  I felt like I got a few things done for a change.  I made time to write in the quiet of a Sunday morning before anyone else was up.  I allowed myself time to sit and think.  I placed value on dreaming on paper and on relieving little boy bedrooms of the detritus of preschooler-dom.  Productivity returned.  You probably know that strung together, several ten-minute sets lead to 40 or more minutes of actual accomplishments.  I wonder if I couldn’t get to the 40-minute mark before because my own expectations made it too hard.

What am I doing differently for 2013?  I am bringing my art, my way of being, my gifts, insights, and responses to the world and those around me in ten-minute commitments.  Thank you for being there for me.