Becoming Monotony

It's Sunday night and Ryan said he was tired. I asked if he wanted to go to bed early tonight. He said no. Then he fell asleep on the floor, face-down on a throw pillow.

Maybe there's only so much significant life change the human soul can endure before it forces you into living room narcolepsy.

But his impromptu nap gives me some post-bedtime quiet time to kill, which is nice sometimes. It gives me time to reflect and process things—something an extrovert like me has trouble doing sometimes. As I look back on the week, one lesson pushes itself to the front of my mind and begs to be shared.

That lesson is this: When we start to feel like things are becoming routine—that life is just one constant cycle of get-up-do-your-work-go-to-bed-repeat—it might be a sign that you're figuring out how to do the things God has assigned to you. It might signify you're ready to take on more in your life, that your capacities are expanding.

A couple nights ago I climbed into bed, exhausted from what I viewed as the monotonous life of a stay-at-home mother. "I just don't feel like I'm getting anywhere," I said to Ryan. "It's like no matter how well I do something, I have to do it again tomorrow. No matter how many times I pick up Lyla's toys, no matter how delicious our dinner is, no matter how much writing I finish, I still have to get up tomorrow and do the same thing over again."

"Yes," Ryan said. Then in his wise-beyond-his-years way, he added, "But think how hard it used to be for you to do all that, back when you were just starting."

So I did. I remembered the first few times I found myself picking up Lyla's toys, after she was big enough to make a mess. If I thought hard enough, I could remember being a newlywed with a fully stocked kitchen, a crock pot and no idea what to feed myself and my new husband. Cooking dinner, cleaning a house, taking care of a toddler—they were all things that used to be so difficult for me. And now I was calling them boring?

I felt a little better. Then I felt a little flutter in my stomach—a flutter that gets stronger and more constant every day. And I realized that when the future seems scary (How in the world am I going to take care of TWO babies?), I can look back on how far I've come and realize it's probably doable.

I'm still a work in progress, and the boredom is probably a sign that it's time for me to take on some new challenges. But it's still nice to observe progress, even if it takes a couple monotonous days for me to recognize it.