Something lost, something gained

On Monday we lost something: the remote. 

First Dax and I blamed it on Joseph.  Joseph just recently learned how to use the remote for the DVD player so he can rewind his Wee Sing America CD (he likes to listen to the same songs over and over and over and over…).  Daxson and I spent quite a bit of time searching.  After Dax got home from work Monday night, he spent another good hour searching the house from the floor to Joseph’s reaching height.  No remote.  But he did find the missing letter A and Joseph’s play pair of glasses. 

Tuesday we decided maybe it wasn’t Joseph.  Maybe it was Dax or me that “misplaced” the remote.  So naturally I blamed Dax and he blamed me.  I looked everywhere I thought he might have put it and he looked everywhere he thought I might have put it.  Just to support my theory of it being Daxson: a few months ago, I asked Dax to cut up the watermelon…the next morning I opened the cabinet to get out a bowl and there was the watermelon…all cut up, in the cupboard.  Then again, around that same time, I could not find the bag of Fritos after lunch one day, only to find them a week later in the freezer…that was my doing.  So really, it could have been either of us.

So Tuesday not only did I spend the day searching (the refrigerator, the freezer, the laundry room, etc, etc), but I spent the day trying to remember.  When did we last have the remote?  What did we do after that time?  Well, I remember we had it at breakfast…or actually, Joseph had it at breakfast.  But then I remember taking it from him because he kept rewinding the CD in the middle of the song and it was getting a little repetitious.  When I took the remote, I’m sure I put it up somewhere high so he couldn’t reach it or did I?  Here’s where my memory fails.  Did I give it back to him after explaining that he needed to let the song play through?  If not, where did I put it?  Did I carry it around while I cleaned up toys and laundry?  If so, did I put it down somewhere along the way?  Did we have it again at lunch? 

This is crazy.  I’m only 29 and I can’t remember some simple little details.  I know I’m not aging faster than the average person.  I know I don’t have a memory problem because I can still memorize the lyrics to whatever song puts my kids to sleep and the words to their favorite books.  My unofficial diagnosis:  I’m mindlessly passing through my day.  I’m on autopilot.  I’m not focusing.  I’m looking at my children but not really seeing them.  I’m hearing my husband but not really listening.  I’m taking the remote, but not even remembering that I did so. 

So, Monday we lost something: the remote.  But I gained something too: the realization that I need a pause button in my life.  I need to learn to be fully present in the moment. 

Maybe losing that remote wasn’t such a bad thing…after all, since then, I’ve listened to Joseph read his favorite passage from Fly, Jimmy, Fly and noticed how expressive he is in his reading; I’ve played Boom with William ’til tears ran down his face from laughing so hard; I’ve eaten slow enough to actually taste my food. 

Don’t get me wrong.  In a mommy’s world, you have to multi-task…just not at the expense of everything good in your life.  So press the pause button.  Be present.  Be mindful.  And pay attention to where you put the remote.

5 thoughts on “Something lost, something gained

  1. Ok, so I just caught up with all three. All three very good. I love your insight into things when you take the time to think them out.


  2. I wish I’d have had your insight when I was raising little ones. I’m sure I had some…but clearly missed the “pause button” option!
    Life is so challenging at every different stage. Finding myself in a very uncertain transitional time right now and certainly pausing and noticing anything and everything in the NOW would be very helpful for any chance at serenity. Thanks for sharing Stacie!!


  3. Pingback: Mindlessness « Standing Over Running Water

  4. Pingback: Daybook | Standing Over Running Water

  5. Pingback: Mindlessness – With Every Intention

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s