One time when I was pregnant with the Kid, a friend advised me that being a parent sometimes means downsizing your goals. I distinctly remember her saying, "Like, sometimes just sweeping the Cheerios off the floor is a good goal."
Here's a story about completing a small goal.
This toy was a gift for Little Miss's birthday. The cupcake tops come apart from the bottoms to make it a shape sorter, and then each bottom shape corresponds to an indentation in the pan itself. All told, it's seventeen pieces when you take it apart.
Little Miss loves it, and will often carry the cupcakes--or parts of the cupcakes--off to remote areas of the house, backyard, and even into the car.
I love that she loves it, but for my slightly-OCD soul it's a bit of a nightmare because all of the cupcakes never, ever end up back in the pan at cleanup time. Like, I always have a vague idea where the missing ones might be--"Ack! I saw the blue one wedged in the space next to her car seat earlier--why didn't I grab it?"--but getting them all together just doesn't happen.
In fact, it's become such thing--in my obviously crazy brain--that over the past few months I'd started imagining all the wonderful miracles that might happen if I ever snapped that last cupcake into the correct place. Perhaps a genie would appear to grant me three wishes? Or maybe a unicorn? Or, at the very least, maybe I'd win a few thousand bucks in the lottery?
Then, Sunday afternoon, it happened.
I had seven cupcakes put away neatly in the pan, when I looked down and saw the yellow one peeking out from under a shelf. I called Sweet Husband in to bear witness as I snapped that yellow cupcake into place. And then....
....Little Miss came in, grabbed the pan, and toppled all the parts back onto the floor.
But for a minute there, it was really something.