(Original Post - July 2011)
I didn’t want to get out of bed this morning.
It was one of those mornings – I wake up and refuse to turn over, because I know that the alarm clock is staring at me, its digital eyes squinting through 6:59 until they finally pop open, wide eyed, 7:00. Those two round electronic eyes are not quite as red as mine, but are much more alert. Its speaker-mouth spews forth more information than I can process at that moment.
Rain, drizzle, fog, a high of 13 (insert requisite “Newfoundland summer” joke by radio personality). On a bright note, the capelin are rolling in Outer Cove. By the way, rain for the rest of the week. Topsail Road is completely backed up through Paradise. Another accident on the Outer Ring Road, followed by another debate on whether it’s the ruts in the road or the morons who skim back and forth over them at 150 km/h that’s to blame. The stage is set for Open Line...
I walk over and open the bedroom curtains. The world is damp, and very grey. I sigh, hold open the curtains and quietly curse the sun for not rising to brighten my day.
But then, it does.
It comes through the baby monitor on our dresser, in the form of a tiny voice that is undoubtedly being spoken through a huge smile.
“Mom! Daddun!!!! Hep! Up!!”
I break into a smile that would rival his, because I can picture him. Standing in his crib, holding the rails, staring at the door waiting for it to open. When it does, he’ll scream the name of whoever has entered in the highest pitch he can create, his arms will be in the air, hands shaking and feet stamping the mattress with anticipation.
As I turn off the monitor, Norah tears into our bedroom, the bed-head hair that falls over her face unable to hide the pure excitement she feels. “Little Dude is awake! I heard him! Come on, Dad!”
Such excitement, and for the simple reason that the day is starting. There’s nothing “special” planned for the day, but it doesn’t matter, because when you are 1 and 3 years old, every day is special. These kids greet every day with a smile, an excited scream, and they run into it, eager for it to begin.
It used to be that I'd be scratching my head, rubbing my eyes glumly at this early hour, silently asking why the kids wouldn't sleep in as I made my way to the Keurig, but recently (in truth, more so since I started writing these thoughts) I’ve been stopping myself, challenging myself.
The short thought is this – imagine if we all greeted the day the same way these kids do. I’m sure that instantly, most are thinking that it’s not really possible to do this; the demands and challenges on adults are far greater than kids, who incidentally get much more sleep. I made these rationalizations myself. Then I stopped and asked myself a few pointed questions…
Did I really need to stay up late to watch Masterchef? Gordon Ramsey is pretty cool, but really?
Did I really need to have another glass of Merlot while watching Gordon chastise an unfortunate young lady about a disastrous truffle dish?
And most importantly, is there anything really preventing me from adapting a positive attitude and making the morning – and entire day – as awesome as these two kids hope it’s going to be?
Truth be told, we do have a lot of demands placed on us as adults. But the lesson my kids have taught me is that if you take good care of yourself and, more importantly, approach each day with a great attitude, that day is going to be infinitely more enjoyable.
Another old adage, but a very true one; each day is what we make it.
By 9:30, me and the kids are at the playground. A few minutes later, I’m doing ‘underducks’, the old swing trick where you run under the swing as you’re pushing it. What came from the kids was more than laughter. It was pure joy, shrieked so loud I pitied the poor souls still asleep in bed. It was a joy that the kids created with their enthusiasm, because I woke up without it and they gave it to me. It’s contagious, and it’s perfect.
And sadly, we don’t use it nearly enough.
A great friend of mine, John, would have turned 36 last week. I thought of him continually while writing these thoughts, as he is one of the few, if not only adult I’ve known to approach each day with this type of enthusiasm. His world was complete optimism, even in the throes of his battle with cancer. I think that the reason he was able to do this (in addition to the love of a magnificent wife and incredible kids) is that he maintained the heart of a young boy. Like my kids, he approached each day with unbounded enthusiasm, eager to see what it would bring, eager to see what he could create.
He created great things.
Just a thought – I’ve often gone through periods where it seemed I was completely pessimistic, completely cynical about many things. In my novel, I named a race of grotesque creatures the Nylacci (an anagram for Cynical) and I went to great pains to see these creatures defeated. They have been, to an extent, but they raise their horned heads occasionally and look me in the eye. During one of these periods a couple of years ago, myself and a colleague created a challenge for ourselves. It was a bit of a joke, but beneath it, there was a real attempt to look at ourselves a bit closer. Every time we caught ourselves speaking in a pessimistic, cynical, or complaining manner, we had to take our watch off and switch it to the other wrist. It was a physical reminder and physical representation of how much negativity we were potentially spewing into our staffroom, classrooms and homes.
It chafed our wrists. It opened our eyes.
“Nothing great was ever achieved without enthusiasm” – Ralph Waldo Emerson.
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