Thoughts While Running #008
be your own cheerleader
A book on heavy rotation in our house right now is ‘WOO HOO! YOU’RE DOING GREAT!’ by Sandra Boynton. It involves an enthusiastic (overly at times) chicken who tries to be the cheerleader we all need in our lives until they make a mistake and a mouse fills in, reminding us ultimately that the best cheerleader is ourselves.
It’s an adorable book to read with an eager little reader as there is nothing better than experiencing an almost 2 year old exclaim ‘woo hoo!’ over and over. It’s also made me think about how much we all need a little chicken cheerleader of our own some/most days.
It often feels like there’s this unrealistic expectation placed on Moms that demands not necessarily perfect, but rather precise execution (since we’re also told to have compassion on ourselves because as we all know perfect doesn’t exist). Like an air traffic controller perched high above a runway, Moms are expected to land the plane, each and every time. I’ve joked that I deserve an award just for getting my son out of the house in the morning and honestly, at the very least I should get a big ‘WOO HOO!’ and a high five.
Dougie’s birthday is Friday, which is exciting as he sort of understands that it’s not just a normal Friday, it’s a special one and it’s special because of him. Which is really sweet and innocent and fun to watch. He doesn’t understand all the added bonuses that come with a birthday like cake (which he doesn’t like anyway), presents, etc. He just knows we all get to say ‘Happy Birthday Dougie!’ and he’ll no longer be one, he’ll be two. We’re having what was intended to be a low-effort birthday party involving all of his favorite things: a park he loves to go to and croissants. Even the most well intentioned of low-effort activities still involves a considerable amount of mental energy, planning and time (attention air traffic control: the birthday jet needs clearance to land).
Saturday night I happened to be on Etsy looking for felt christmas garland (because how cute would that look in Dougie’s room) and one of the shops I was looking at also sold fabric birthday crowns. Of course Dougie needed a birthday crown for his birthday! Silly me for not realizing this until 5 days before his birthday when absolutely no shop would be able to ship one in time! So on Sunday I found myself navigating the labyrinth that is Joann Fabrics searching for all things needed to make a felt birthday crown of which I then spent the rest of the day hand embroidering while simultaneously drawing ‘green trucks’ while Dougie and I spent a rather long artsy afternoon together. The crown looks great and there’s a 50/50 chance he’ll actually let me put it on him so that’s fantastic.
I spent an hour looking for party supplies yesterday (because of course we need plates, napkins and utensils to eat our croissants!) appalled at how heinous (and disposable) all the options were on Amazon. A google search led me to a much more aesthetically pleasing site, which therefore happened to be much more expensive and because I didn’t think of this last week, I also had to pay for overnight delivery. At least next year I’ll know how to plan better and (hopefully) more in advance. But I’m not awesome at this stuff and by then Dougie might understand the concept of ‘birthdays’ a bit more and demand some sort of very specific and very obscure theme, so there’s a 50/50 chance I’ll be paying to overnight something then, too.
All this to say, do any of us remember our 2nd birthdays? Not a chance. I don’t really remember any of my childhood birthdays, to be honest - there was the one party we got to have at McDonald’s (the dream for a kindergartener in the 80s) and there was one birthday when my mom made a midwestern delicacy called ‘rice dish’ involving canned spaghetti sauce, ground beef and rice, which I found (and still find) to be absolutely disgusting because it was my twin brother’s favorite meal. Another one when I got to have my own cake(!) and another one where I got a Rainbow Bright doll (or maybe that was Christmas…?)
Whether or not they’ll remember them, here we are throwing birthday parties anyway, no matter how high or low effort they might be. The planning, the execution, the landing of the birthday jumbo jet taking high priority on my mental list of to-dos. More work that gets done in the background that piles up on top of all the other work being done in the background just to keep life existing, and it’s exhausting. The precisely orchestrated mornings so everyone makes it out the door in time. The choreographed evening routine of teeing up dinner followed by a precisely laid out bedtime routine that allows for the appropriate amount of bath time and book time and cuddle time while also ensuring lights out at 8pm.
It can be draining, mentally and physically and it often goes unnoticed because it’s all the things that have to get done to simply baseline make it through the day. During a particularly hectic moment yesterday morning, as I was unsuccessfully attempting to multitask, trying to land too many planes on an already crowded runway, I snapped. In that moment I felt like a jerk and I really could have used a little cheerleading chicken reminding me ‘Woo Hoo! You’re doing great!’
So at the end of the day when I get yet another request (or three) to read ‘Woo hoo!’ I’m going to let that chicken’s words sink in. I’m going to let him be my own personal cheerleader congratulating me on making it through the day, a celebration of the often menial at best accomplishments I’ve accrued in the past 24 hours. And just as important as that overly enthusiastic chicken is also the quiet little mouse, who reminds us all that the ‘best WOO HOO is the one you say each day to you.’
*k
“WOO-HOO!” ❤️