How I Started Having Weekly Special Time With My Kids

I've written before about the lightning bolt of habit change. It's where a new idea sparks an instantaneous habit without any real effort. You just think it, do it once, and the habit is there, "without preparation, without small steps, without wavering," as Gretchen Rubin puts it.

Lightning bolts are rare, but one of them happened to me last December. 

I was gearing up for the start of 2018 and trying to decide what my focus should be. I hadn't yet stumbled upon the quote that would be my guiding light for the year, but I knew one thing: I wanted to make sure I was putting my time and energy into the Most Important Things, and my kids were sitting right at the top of the list.

A couple of weeks before that, Ralphie of Simply on Purpose had talked about doing special time with her daughters--essentially, fifteen minutes of one-on-one time every day. 

I was intrigued. Of course, the idea of spending individual time with my kids wasn't new, but somehow this sounded more doable. It wouldn't require going out for ice cream or spending a couple of hours at the zoo on an official Mommy-Son date. Ralphie talked about setting a timer for fifteen minutes and then fully engaging with that one child in whatever activity he wanted to do. 

That same December, our family was participating in the Light the World campaign, which consisted of 25 service-oriented activities over 25 days that helped (in small ways) increase the light and hope and goodness in the world. One of the daily scripture prompts was "suffer the little children to come unto me," and I knew that this was my chance to try out special time.

And so that morning, I told the boys, "Today I'm going to have special time with each of you. For fifteen minutes, I am yours. You choose the activity, and I'll do it with you."

And just like that, the Lightning Bolt struck. 

Thereafter, special time became a regular part of our weekly schedule. 

I think it stuck so easily for two reasons. First, my kids fell in love with it immediately. They understood what it was, how it worked, and thought it was so fun (except Maxwell, who, as usual, took a little more convincing). They propelled it forward because they were quick to ask me, "When are we going to do special time again?" It was obvious that we craved and needed that one-on-one time together. 

And second, it was actually a lot easier than I thought it would be. It doesn't require any preparation, or even any thought, from me. My kids are the ones who decide what to do, and, for the most part, I always agree to it. That's part of what has made special time such a success: they know that this is their chance to get me to jump on the trampoline or play chess or do any number of activities I would normally avoid. (There have been some really bizarre ones, too, like the time Maxwell had me watch him slide down the stairs on his knees, and every time he came back up to the top, I had to read him a Shel Silverstein poem. What??????)

Ralphie advocates doing special time every day, but I knew if I did that, it would become a burden rather than a joy. I would constantly feel like I was falling short because, let's be honest, even fifteen minutes can be difficult to find on some days, and when you multiply that by several times, it becomes close to impossible. And I don't think it would just feel that way for me. I think my kids would get burned out if we attempted to squeeze it into every day. It also would lose some of its intrigue and specialness if it was happening so often.

The other thing is, even though we're only having that dedicated one-on-one time once a week, we spend time together in many other ways: reading aloud at night, working on piano pieces, having conversations in the car, working on homework, running, watching a movie, or going on adventures as a family. We might only do special time once during the week, but that doesn't mean we aren't spending other quality time together.

So this is how it works for us: Sometime during the week, when I have an open chunk of time, I ask one of my kids if he wants to do special time. Nine times out of ten, we seem to do it on Sunday because we're just less scheduled and busy on that day. I ask him what he wants to do and almost always agree to his request. There really are only two rules when it comes to the chosen activities: it can't involve any kind of screen, and it has to fit into the fifteen-minute time frame (so, no climbing Mt. Olympus). I then set a timer for fifteen minutes, and we begin. (The timer, I discovered, is a very important component of special time. One time I didn't set it with Clark because I had a lot of free time and didn't think there was any reason to cut us off at fifteen minutes. He got very upset and said it couldn't be special time if I didn't set the timer. I guess having it timed actually makes it feel more special, not less. It's one more way I'm showing them that this is their time. I'm carving it out just for them and setting a timer so the whole world (or at least the whole family) will know that this time is off limits for anyone else.)

The two most popular choices for special time are playing a game or reading a book, but we have done all of the following:

1. Go on a walk
2. Jump on the trampoline
3. Color a picture
4. Cut out snowflakes
5. Fold origami
6. Get a back rub
7. Play duets on the piano
8. Have a dance party
9. Play a game (Yahtzee, Labyrinth, Tenzies, Skip Bo, and Hoot Owl Hoot are favorites)
10. Put together a puzzle
11. Read: a picture book, poetry, one chapter, or a magazine
12. Make slime
13. Sculpt play dough or silly putty
14. Bake a treat
15. Make a free-form craft (see photo below)
16. Pretend play with playmobil or other little figures
17. Relax in the hammock
18. Build Legos
19. Play laser tag
20. Go on a bike ride
21. Play basketball
22. Listen to music
23. Draw a picture
24. Swing
25. Do perler beads

Special time has produced moments I never would have had with my kids otherwise. One time, Maxwell got out a stack of paper and explained that we would give each other drawing prompts, and then we would both have to draw it. I can't even draw a decent stick figure, so I was immediately out of my comfort zone, but I did it. I think Max might have come up with it specifically to test me: was I willing to do something I didn't like to do? For him?


Another time, special time came a day after a big argument with Aaron. He requested a back rub, and that provided a quiet moment where I could apologize and we could discuss the situation that had initiated the argument, but this time in a calm and safe way. We ended our fifteen minutes with good feelings restored and better communication in place.

One afternoon, Clark asked to jump on the trampoline. This is not my favorite activity (read: I've had five babies). But as we jumped around, I saw his little creative spirit in full light and I just basked in it. He is so fun-loving, and we laughed and laughed while showing off our cool moves. It was one time where I distinctly remember thinking, I would have missed this if not for special time.

The quote that has most impacted my 2018 and been a guiding force in all of my decisions has been this one by Elder Richard G. Scott: "In quiet moments when you think about it, you recognize what is critically important and what isn't. Be wise and don't let good things crowd out those that are essential." I have had many inward conflicts about how to best use my time and how to know which things are the most essential, but my dedication to special time has been a clear choice: those fifteen minutes are precious, even sacred, to me, and I won't let anything else take their place. 

What I Read in June

It kind of felt like all of my reading was dictated to me for the month of June. Three of the books were for book clubs (not kidding), and the fourth was our readaloud, which, even though I chose it, began to feel like more and more of an obligation as it dragged on for the entire month. Here are a few of my thoughts on each book:

1. The Rosie Project by Graeme Simsion
I was in the mood for a sweet, lighthearted read for summer, and this definitely fit the bill.

It's about Don Tillman, a middle-aged genetics professor who decides it's time for him to get married. But he's tired of going on the usual dates and making the usual small talk. It's so inefficient. So he comes up with a comprehensive questionnaire to screen potential candidates, asking everything from what flavor of ice cream she likes to what she does in her free time. He calls this, "The Wife Project." With the questionnaire, he can immediately see if they'd be a compatible match or not.

But then, he meets Rosie, and she basically fails the entire questionnaire, and yet, upon reflection, he realizes that he would place his time with her among his happiest moments (right after his three visits to the Natural History Museum). Luckily, Rosie is searching for her biological father and so Don agrees to help her with "The Father Project" and doesn't have to worry about their incompatible interests.

The thing that is never explicitly mentioned but is obvious from the beginning is that Don has Asperger's Syndrome, and this makes this search for the perfect wife even more hilarious and endearing because Don tries to go about it all in just the right way, but everything is just a little more awkward than it needs to be.

I honestly could have loved this book if not for two things: the excessive swearing (including the f-word) and the behavior of Don's best friend, Gene, who is married but sleeps around in the name of research and science. I almost put down the book several times because of this content, and, in spite of how much I loved Don, I wouldn't be able to recommend it.

2. The Wolves at the Door: the True Story of America's Greatest Female Spy by Judith L. Pearson
This story could have been so good, so good, in the hands of another author. It is the true story of Virginia Hall who worked as a spy for the SOE and OSS during World War II. Right from the beginning, when she accidentally shoots herself in the leg during a hunting expedition and has to have it amputated, you know that she is an extraordinary lady. But the writing was so dull and dry that it was a struggle for that spunk and fearlessness to come through.

For example, at one point Virginia has to escape from France by way of the Pyrenees into Spain. This would have been an arduous journey under any circumstances, but with an artificial leg to contend with, it was absolutely torturous. And yet, I felt virtually no emotion when I was reading it because the writing was so bland.

This was my book club book for June, and our discussion was as much about how bad the writing was and lamenting about what the story could have been as it was about Virginia and her noble heroics.

Look her up on Wikipedia, but skip this book.

3. Tom's Midnight Garden by Philippa Pearce
A few weeks ago, I was flipping through Honey for a Child's Heart, looking for something that sounded interesting for our next readaloud. I wasn't looking because I didn't have any ideas (I always have ideas) but because one of the goals I made at the beginning of the year was to read three books recommended in that resource. The problem was that many of the books that caught my attention did so because I'd already heard of them, and the point of the goal was to discover new-to-me books.

So when I happened upon Tom's Midnight Garden, I jumped on it because it was a completely never-before-heard-of title and it was described as "timeless" and the type of story that "will probably be reaching out to children in 2102 on both sides of the Atlantic." Perfect. I put it on hold that very moment.

Tom has the whole summer to look forward to when his younger brother, Peter, unfortunately contracts a bad case of the measles. Tom is immediately whisked off to his aunt and uncle's flat to avoid any exposure to the disease, and he can't think of any place that would be more boring. But then, on one of his first nights there, the clock wakes him up, and he opens the back door and steps into a beautiful garden that was nothing more than a few trash bins and an old car in the daylight. Night after night, Tom returns to this garden, and slowly he realizes that he isn't just stepping into another place, but another time entirely.

When we were two or three chapters into the story, I enthusiastically posted about it on Instagram. We loved it! It was so fun to discover an old classic. Etc., etc. But with each chapter, my enthusiasm seemed to wane just a bit more. The story unfolded slowly, so slooooowly, and some nights I couldn't even muster up the interest to read a chapter. Consequently, it took us more than a month to read, and maybe we should have abandoned it.

The problem was, it did have its enjoyable moments and we all had a bunch of unanswered questions. So we plowed on. And by the last five chapters or so, it had picked back up again, and we didn't have any trouble finishing. So, was it worth it to keep reading for ten good chapters out of twenty-seven? In this particular case, I'm going to say yes. (But I'm really glad we get to read something else now.)

4. The Four Tendencies by Gretchen Rubin
My whole family read this book for our family reunion book club (which was this past weekend). Even though the official discussion took place during the family reunion, we've been informally talking about it for weeks. We couldn't help ourselves.

Gretchen Rubin first introduced the Four Tendencies in her book, Better than Before. She came up with the framework to better understand why some people are able to form good habits so easily and others really struggle. This book honed in on the four tendencies specifically (Upholder, Obliger, Questioner, Rebel), exploring each one thoroughly (strengths and weaknesses, how it interacts with the other tendencies, what it looks like in different situations, different leanings, etc.).

You can imagine what happens when a family reads this book. Everyone starts identifying everyone else, and no one can say anything without everyone else jumping in and saying, "Questioner, right there!" or "Definitely an Obliger." For example, at the reunion, all the girls went out for pedicures on the last morning. We had an appointment scheduled for 9:30, so we said we would leave at 9:00. But then, as the time approached, we thought if people were ready earlier, we could leave earlier, and then maybe the salon could get us in sooner (we were a little worried about checking out of our VRBO on time). Anyway, we failed to tell my sister the new plan, and at 8:50, we were all in the car waiting for Anna. She finally came and was quite put out because we had said 9:00, and it was not 9:00 yet, and if we were going to change the plans, then she needed to be informed. We all laughed and said, "Typical Upholder" (and I felt some empathy because I'm also an Upholder, so if the situation had been reversed, I would have reacted the same way).

My brother took it a little too far and would label any activity with a tendency: "She's eating peanut M&M's. Isn't that just like an Upholder?" Or, "He fell asleep on the couch. What a Rebel." Or, "She's reading a book. Typical Obliger behavior." He was just saying it to be funny, but Gretchen Rubin was quick to point out that "the Tendency describes only how a person responds to an expectation, not what the person's talents, personality, intelligence, or interests are." I think this is an important distinction to keep in mind. This framework analyzes just one small part of a person's personality, and it's up to you to figure out how it fits with everything as a whole.

I will say that just as a general reading experience, I enjoyed Better Than Before quite a bit more. The Four Tendencies is fairly repetitive, and, while it's interesting and I liked all of the examples, I feel like you could get the gist of the system by reading just the first chapter or listening to Gretchen Rubin's podcast episodes on each Tendency.

In fact, one family member didn't read the entire book but stopped after he thought he had it figured out. Questioner, no doubt.

What did you read last month? Anything I should put on my TBR?

Turning Impulsive

In most situations, I consider myself an underbuyer. Buying huge amounts of anything makes me feel anxious instead of secure. And I tend to agonize over even very small purchases, like sandals or toothpaste. I usually end up not buying anything rather than actually forking over the money.

I think I've mentioned before that I teach piano lessons on a few afternoons every week. When Mike was in school, that extra money went right into the mix to buy groceries, housing, and other necessities. But when he graduated and got a full-time job, that money became mine to do with as I pleased.

It has taken me a long time to get used to. In fact, I usually spend the bulk of it on things like preschool or extracurricular activities for the boys or gifts. And I'm totally fine with that because it means we can save more of our actual income for house projects or other big things.

But in the last six months or so, I've become a little more rash and impulsive. I can think of a number of purchases I've made on the spot, without agonizing over them at all, and, for the most part, I've been happy, even thrilled, with all of them.

For example, one evening when we were at Costco, they had a display of down-filled, quilted coats for $40. Normally, this is the kind of potential purchase I would go home and "think about." But it was exactly what I wanted, and I knew I wasn't going to find it for that price again, so I bought it right then.

And, oh my goodness, I've loved that coat. It's warm without being bulky, and it is so comfortable. I wore it every day this past winter, and it made the cold not seem quite so unbearable. Even though I hadn't gone into Costco thinking I would buy a coat, it was exactly what I'd been looking for, and I was so glad I hadn't let my underbuyer side get in the way of a good purchase.

I made similar impulsive purchases when I bought a dress (actually two) for Mike's work Christmas party, a swimming suit (after I'd already bought one for the upcoming season), and a pair of converse sneakers.

And then, of course, there have been the books: Finding Winnie because I loved it so much after we read it and Amazon had it for under $10; The Reindeer Wish and Santa Clauses because they had been on my wish list, so when the price dropped, I jumped on it; Sense and Sensibility because it was my birthday and it was so pretty.

And just last week, Little Men. After I read it last November, I wanted my own copy, but I didn't like any of the current editions except for a UK one that I couldn't find in the US. But then last week, Suzanne and I scheduled our monthly Book Blab, and I was planning on recommending Little Men. I always like to have a copy of the book to show while we're chatting, but all the library copies were checked out. So I decided to just see if there was just a cheap paperback on Amazon that I could buy and not feel guilty about. And then, instead of just an ugly copy, there was a beautiful new edition for only $6. It was exactly like what I wanted to find a few months ago, so I didn't wait. I snatched it up and then bought Jo's Boys too. (And I would have bought Little Women and Good Wives as well if Amazon had had them in that edition.) It was so fun getting them in the mail and lining up their cute spines on the bookshelf. 

These purchases weren't impulsive in the same way that some things are impulsive. They were all things I'd thought about and had my ideal of in my head. No, they were impulsive because I bought them immediately upon finding them instead of pacing for twenty minutes in the store before deciding to go home and come back to the store later if it was still something I really wanted.

And that's rare for me and also, I discovered, a little bit liberating.

Gretchen Rubin advocates "indulging in a modest splurge" to boost happiness. It's taken me awhile to figure out how to do that without being quickly overtaken by buyer's remorse. But I think I've finally got it. I don't like shopping, especially when there is something specific I need (like a new outfit for a wedding). But, like most people, I have a running list of things I'm on the lookout for that will fill a specific purpose. So when I find myself out shopping, and I happen to see one of those items on my list, I buy it. I don't question it or talk myself out of it. I buy it right then and there. It feels impulsive to me, so I get a little bit of a rush, but it's really not because it's stuff that I've already thought through. I'd call that a win-win.

Are you an underbuyer or overbuyer? What does impulsive look like for you? Tell me about a happy, impulsive purchase you've made recently!

On Being Authentic

Recently I was at a meeting which focused on improving teaching skills. The meeting was two hours long, and all of the information was presented by one person.

One of the main points I took away from the class (and probably the one that was given the largest percentage of the two hours) was, "Don't talk too much." This simply meant that the teacher should be a facilitator of discussion rather than a lecturer because the students would remember the information better when they took an active role in the discovery and application of it.

The irony in this situation was that the teacher who was presenting the information was doing quite a bit more talking than the class members. She asked some questions and was always extremely respectful and attentive to whomever was answering, but she seemed intent on saying everything she'd written down even when many of her points had already been mentioned by members of the class.

Early on in the evening, she said something like, "If this was a regular classroom, I would be doing very little talking, but tonight's format is going to be a little different. There will be a little of, 'Do as I say, not as I do,' so please don't go home saying, 'Oh my goodness, she talked so much!'"

Unfortunately, that's exactly what I went home saying.

The whole class seemed to be a study in contradiction, and I had no idea why a class focused on teaching skills couldn't benefit from employing the same techniques it was teaching. It made no sense to me. Furthermore, I've been in other situations with this same teacher, and all of them have been very lecture-heavy, so it was hard for me to believe that this was the exception to her normal teaching style.

This past month, I've been rereading Gretchen Rubin's The Happiness Project for one of my 2016 reading goals. The day after the above experience, I read a portion of the book that not only gave me insight to the experience from the night before, but also helped me understand myself better.

Gretchen was talking about some of the anxiety she felt while working on her project. Sometimes she would imagine what her various critics might say: "You have it easy...You're not depressed...You're not spiritual enough...You just talk about yourself." It bothered her, but then she realized, "If I do the project my way, I'm unspiritual and gimmicky [according to her critics]; if I tried to do it a different way, I'd be inauthentic and fake. Might as well 'Be Gretchen.'"

I read that paragraph. And then I read it again. And then again. Everything from the night before gained clarity when I looked at it through this lens of authenticity.

The teacher in question is a gifted speaker. I think she feels quite comfortable behind a microphone with an audience in front of her. She delivers her words with authority and conviction. This is one of her talents, one of her strengths.

And yet, the information she had to present stressed, "Let the students do the teaching. Open a discussion. Don't feel bound by your prepared agenda."

It was in direct conflict with her personality. She might have believed it. She might have wished she could teach that way. But it wasn't who she was.

And so, she did what she felt comfortable with: She presented the information as a lecture.

Once I came to this realization, I felt much more forgiving about the two hours, but I also felt sad. Although, in the end, she'd been authentic to her preferred teaching method, her words didn't have as strong of an impact because she couldn't back them up with her actions. I wondered if it would have been better for her to share teaching techniques she could have supported through example and left the ones she couldn't to another day and another teacher. Yes, the current trend in teaching is to guide the students to make their own discoveries, but there is more than one way to teach just as there is more than one way to learn. What a stagnant world this would be if we all taught in exactly the same way using some proven method for success.

This whole situation has made me reconsider my own actions. Am I being authentic? Or am I trying to fit some pre-prescribed model? Are the clothes I wear and the books I read and the music I listen to dictated by other people or what I'm truly interested in?

I've mentioned before that I've never thrown a friends birthday party for any of my children. Sometimes I feel guilty about this, especially when my sister-in-law gives me a little nudge, "Maybe just when they turn seven?" However, organizing a birthday party that involves twelve seven-year-olds sounds chaotic and noisy and crazy to me. If such a party were in my child's best interest, I think I'd force myself to make the sacrifice, but I'm not sure it is. So can't I just acknowledge that birthday parties aren't my thing and celebrate and make my children feel loved and special in ways that I feel comfortable with? Can't I just adopt Gretchen's first commandment and "Be Amy"?

Of course, this is not to say that I shouldn't be making the effort to seek improvement and become better. The decision to "Be Amy" shouldn't become a crutch or an excuse for mediocrity. But there are many, even hundreds, of ways I can improve and stretch myself and grow within my own sphere of interests. I can "Be Amy" even while striving to "Become a Better Amy."

Going back to the teaching experience from awhile ago, I almost wish I could sit through the two hours again. I know I would be less critical and more attentive. I know I would look for the bits of wisdom that resonated with me rather than focusing on the little contradictions. I know I would embrace my own uniqueness even while embracing this teacher's. I know I would recognize the simple wisdom of being authentic.

I'm curious to know your thoughts on authenticity: How do you stay true to yourself even while striving to improve? Are there things you don't do that everyone else does? 

Secrets of Adulthood #2: I'd Rather Read Than Waste Time

It's been a couple of months since I shared my first Secret of Adulthood, and today I'm finally getting around to sharing another. For those of you who are new here, the term "Secrets of Adulthood" was coined by Gretchen Rubin in her book, The Happiness Project, and it simply refers to those bits of advice that make your life so much better when you adhere to them.

Today's Secret of Adulthood is one I thought up years ago, and it is this:

I'd rather read than waste time.

On the surface, it seems so obvious. Who actually sets out to waste time? But you'd be surprised how often my hand is poised over my phone or the computer when a little whisper inside my head reminds me, "I'd rather read than waste time."

Life is full of little 5-15-minute stretches that seem perfect for wasting time in: in the car waiting to pick up a child from school or soccer practice; rocking a baby to sleep; waiting for a child to get done with a task so you can help him with his homework; taking a moment for a quick break in the middle of the day; going to bed at night.

Each moment presents a choice: should I use this time to mindlessly scroll through Facebook or spend it doing something that I actually enjoy? Even the very act of stopping and asking that question usually makes it easier to choose the latter.

Although I've been repeating it to myself for over three years, it wasn't until I took my break that I saw the full benefits of it. When Instagram and Facebook and blogs were no longer an option, I almost always chose to read during those small gifts of time. I felt so happy about it. And I got through so many books.

Since the end of my break, I've tried really hard to not have my phone with me at all times. The result has been that I'm more present with my kids and more present with my books.

One of the keys, of course, to making sure this adage is easy to follow is to make sure that whatever you're reading is readily accessible. Luckily, I have that part of it down and always seem to have reading material scattered (I mean, placed strategically) around the house.

Now some of you might be thinking, That's a great little mantra, but I don't really love to read in my free time. First of all, if you're saying that, then I better break the news to you right now: This blog's probably not for you. But second, this tip can easily adapted to varying interests, like so:

I'd rather _______ than waste time.

See? You can fill that in with whatever floats your boat: knitting or drawing or cleaning or gardening (although all of those things would be hard to do if you're rocking a baby to sleep--that's why reading is probably the ultimate pastime (wink, wink)). Sometimes we think five minutes isn't really enough time to do anything in (except scroll through Facebook), but I'm telling you, most hobbies can be adapted for little chunks of time.

What do you think? Is this advice you already follow? And if so, how do you avoid those other tempting options? What's one Secret of Adulthood you like to tell yourself? 

What I Learned By Taking a Break

Hello, dear friends! Here I am, back from my three-week break. I hope most of you are back, too.

Thanks for reading Mike's posts while I was gone. Personally, I quite enjoyed seeing which books he chose to write about. We may have to give him a more regular spot on this blog so he can continue to share. He wanted to apologize for not writing at all last week. He was in California all week for work, and it was not a leisurely trip. He hardly had time to talk to me on the phone, and sorry, I take priority over the blog.

Also, I can't thank you enough for taking the survey. We're nearing one hundred responses, so if any of you were planning on taking it but forgot about it, you can still take it here. I'll leave it open for a couple more days and then share some of the data with you.

And now, let me share a little of what I learned from my three-week internet fast.

First, I learned that I can survive. Seriously, I was kind of surprised about that. Sure, I missed it, and for the first few days, I had to really quell the urge to pull out my phone and check Instagram, but by the end, I hardly gave it a thought.

One thing that revealed itself almost immediately was that I actually have plenty of time to stay on top of all my little tasks during the day if I don't have the option of falling down the rabbit hole. My house stayed a lot cleaner during these last three weeks (although it kind of felt like that's all I was doing). I realized that, for the most part, it wasn't the blog that was stealing my time from me; it was stuff I didn't actually care about. It was liberating to have that temptation basically eliminated from my life.

I learned what things I really care about online. I missed Instagram. I didn't miss Facebook. I missed reading my favorite blogs. I didn't miss mindlessly skimming through random blog posts or clicking on gimmicky links. I learned what I will be fine not going back to and what I want to add back into my life with some moderation.

But moderation . . . that's easier said than done. Gretchen Rubin divides people into two groups: abstainers and moderators. Abstainers find that it's easier to eliminate tempting things from their lives altogether. So they'll entirely cut out sugar or tv or online shopping. Once it's gone from their lives, they feel free rather than hindered. Moderators are just the opposite. If the choice is taken away from them, they feel stifled and resentful. They would rather by in charge of doling out the treats in small doses that not having them as an option.

From this three-week experience, I learned what I already suspected: I'm an abstainer. That doesn't mean that I'm necessarily willing to abstain from all my time-wasting activities. But I do find it fairly easy to abstain (whereas moderating is really difficult for me).

For example, the one thing I really allowed during my break was email communication. It was supposed to be just one time a day (and I actually found that I was very productive during that time and responded to all necessary emails rather than putting them off until I checked it again), but there was a day about two weeks into the break when I had to check it several times because I was waiting for a time-sensitive response from someone, and that broke down my resolve quickly and easily.

So I think that's been one of my biggest concerns with my three weeks coming to an end. Can I add back in some of the things I love without letting them take over again? I really wanted this experience to be a springboard to some real lifestyle changes, but those results are yet to be seen.

In spite of all the good things I discovered and learned about myself over the last three weeks, one of the things I was really hoping for didn't happen, and that is, I didn't suddenly find this untapped pocket of time perfect for writing blog posts. Nope, turns out, my life really is pretty full. There aren't any extra two-hour chunks just laying around. It's kind of a bummer but didn't really surprise me. If I want to write on this blog, then I'm going to have to make the time for it. I'm going to have to cut out other things I don't care about in order to have time for the things I do care about.

And one of the biggest revelations of the last three weeks is that I do care about this blog. I didn't heave a sigh of relief when it was gone. I missed it, and I was happy to return to it today. When I left it three weeks ago, I wasn't sure if that would be the case. I'm still wrestling with how to manage my time in order to fit it all in, but I learned that it's worth the wrestle in order to spend time on the things I care about.

Secrets of Adulthood #1: Sweep and You'll Feel Better

Even though we still have more than a third of the year to go, I've already been contemplating my reading goals for 2016. I don't have them all figured out yet, but one thing that I do know is that a couple of rereads are in order. One of those rereads will be The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin.

I've forgotten many details from the book (hence, the reread), but a few of the things have stayed with me, particularly Gretchen's Secrets of Adulthood ("What's fun for other people may not be fun for you--and vice versa" is one of my favorites). Immediately after reading the book, I thought of several of my own, and I've been surprised with how often one of my Secrets of Adulthood will pop into my head at just the right time and calm me down or remind me of something important or make me smile.

In the book, Gretchen has her resolutions, her Twelve Commandments, and her Secrets of Adulthood, and so at first I was a little conflicted with how to categorize my little pieces of advice to myself. But where the resolutions are specific action plans for achieving goals and the commandments are sort of these overarching, big-picture values, the Secrets of Adulthood were just random tips and tricks. They aren't necessarily things that will make a big difference in your worldview, but they might make everyday life a little easier. So I decided my little thoughts fit best under the Secrets of Adulthood heading, and I've called them that ever since.

Today I'm going to share one of those with you, and this may become something of a regular feature on Sunlit Pages. We'll see. Additionally, I would love to hear about your own Secrets of Adulthood--those little daily mantras that help you survive and thrive.

Here's one that I repeat to myself on an almost daily basis:

[Sweep], and you'll feel better. 

Of course it needs an explanation.

With four boys running around, our home is always in varying degrees of chaos. There are moments when I can handle it just fine but other moments where it totally overwhelms me (and both types of moments happen cyclically every day). When I'm in my overwhelmed state, my irritation and frustration with the mess tend to escalate very quickly and unpredictably. Within seconds, every direction I turn sends me further into despair. It feels like I will never have a clean house ever again.

At this point, I can go one of two directions: either I can wander around while feeling more irritated and overwhelmed at every turn; or I can focus on fixing one thing, just one, while turning into a rational human being again.

It's in that critical moment of decision that this mantra comes in so handy. I repeat it silently to myself:

[Sweep], and you'll feel better. [Insert task of choice], and you'll feel better.

I find that when I set my mind to one chore, it doesn't really matter what it is. Just the act of bringing order to one thing (be it the sink full of dishes or the crumb-cluttered floor or the basket of clean laundry) calms me down enough that I can then tackle the rest of what's bothering me (and also delegate some of the work out to other family members).

Generally, the simpler this initial task is, the better. In fact, vacuuming might be my all-time favorite thing to do to bring almost immediate calm. Whether it's the white noise or the therapeutic motion or the instant lift it gives to a room, I always feel better after vacuuming (but I like the way "Sweep, and you'll feel better" sounds more than "Vacuum, and you'll better").

The key is to trust myself that it will actually work.

Clark agrees with me.

What do you do to restore yourself to a state of rational calm? What are your most oft-repeated Secrets of Adulthood? 

The Lightning Bolt of Habit Change

photo credit goes to my brother-in-law, Jon

Many of you know I'm a diligent journal keeper. No, diligent is too mild a word for it. Dedicated? Yes, but still not strong enough. Obsessed? There we go.

But have I ever told you about how that diligence/dedication/obsession came about? Probably not because, the truth is, it's a very short story.

I was a teenager, and, as usual, I was stressing about something (a characteristic trait that, unfortunately, has not changed in the last fifteen years). It was probably a lot of little somethings because I tended to let them pile up in my brain until I grew so overwhelmed I couldn't stand it. My dad was inspired to offer me some short and simple counsel: make a to-do list every night.

And so that very night, I did just that. It felt nice to write, and so I decided that as long as I had a pen in my hand, I would just write about the day, too.

And, just like that, in a single moment, a habit was formed.

I had experienced a Lightning Bolt.

In her book, Better Than Before, Gretchen Rubin says, "Sometimes we're hit by a lightning bolt that transforms our habits, instantly. We encounter some new idea, and suddenly a new habit replaces a long-standing habit--without preparation, without small steps, without wavering--and we pass from before to after in a moment."

That's exactly what happened to me. I don't remember thinking, I'd like to be better about writing in my journal regularly. In fact, I don't remember thinking about my journal at all. I was trying to write out a to-do list. But then, suddenly, there I was, writing about my day every day.

The thing about this particular strategy is that it's unpredictable. Gretchen says, "It's practically impossible to invoke on command. Unlike all the other strategies, it's not a strategy that we can decide to follow; it's something that happens to us."

It's really too bad because, as you can imagine, it's actually pretty nice to just wake up one morning and find you've acquired a habit (but only if it's a good one). Gretchen says that big events can trigger Lightning Bolts but that it's often something small: "a passage in a book, a scene from a movie, or a casual comment by a stranger."

That last one? A casual comment by a stranger? That set off a Lightning Bolt for me a couple of months ago.

For a long time now, I've been struggling with how to prioritize my time, particularly as it relates to this blog. I get a lot of joy and satisfaction when I finish writing a post but that can be compounded by feelings of guilt and frustration if I sacrificed time I would have been spending with my kids to write it. For many months, I tried to write during quiet time, which we have every afternoon, but I found that there were still little interruptions throughout the afternoon, and those interruptions broke my concentration and irritated me.

Then, one evening, I was chatting with a new woman in our neighborhood. She's approaching eighty, and so naturally, the three of us who were visiting her wanted to hear all about her long life. At one point, someone asked, "What are your hobbies? Reading? Sewing? Cooking?"

This woman replied, "Oh, I used to sew a lot. When my daughters were young, I sewed all their clothes. But now I wish I hadn't. I was so concerned with getting things done, and it didn't really matter."

Many people express similar sentiments of wishing they'd spent more time with their children, but there, in that otherwise normal moment, hearing that regret hit me hard. I thought, I don't want to share similar thoughts when I'm almost eighty. So something has to change now.

That woman's statement cast an illuminating light on my situation, and all of a sudden, I realized that if I really wanted to write, I should be doing it in the early morning hours before anyone in my house was awake. I've always been a fairly early riser, but I shifted my wake up time even earlier so that I could have a solid hour and a half to two hours before anyone else woke up.

Almost immediately though, I ran into a problem. I have a tendency to stay up late, like 11:30ish, but now I was trying to wake up between 4:40 and 5:15 every morning. I often have interruptions in the middle of the night from the baby or Maxwell who needs to relate all of the details of his bad dreams in order to go back to sleep. I knew I wasn't getting a healthy amount of sleep, but I felt fiercely committed to waking up early, so obviously the change needed to happen on the other end, but I couldn't bring myself to do it.

And then, on a Sunday evening just a couple of weeks ago, I was reading this article about how so many successful people follow a pattern of going to bed early and waking up early, and something finally fell into place. It was another Lightning Bolt, if you will.

The article mainly talked about the benefits of arising early when our minds are clear and our energy is replenished, but the reminder that this is only possible if you also retire early made me decide to move up my evening routine an hour earlier. I don't know if I was finally ready for the lesson or what, but suddenly I was able to make the change.

Because I've seen the wonderful results that have come because of these two recent Lightning Bolts, I've been trying to think if there are any ways to encourage them to occur more frequently. I believe what Gretchen says--that it's not a strategy we can "invoke on command"--but I also think there are certain things I can do to make Lightning Bolts more likely: read a wide variety of material (books, articles, current events) that will expose myself to new ideas (and maybe one of those ideas will be just the trigger I need); visit new places, regardless of whether they're near or far from home; chat with new people and glean what I can from their experiences.

And then, once the Lightning Bolt strikes, I can harness that energy by using some of the other strategies to hold it in place. A Lightning Bolt carries a lot of momentum with it, and sometimes it's enough, but it never hurts to secure it.

I'm very interested in hearing about the Lightning Bolts you've experienced in your life. What triggered those positive changes in eating or exercising or [fill in the blank]?

Better Than Before: Mastering the Habits of Our Everyday Lives by Gretchen Rubin

Every night, I open my journal and write in it. I have done this every night for the last fifteen years (except for January 11, 2014 when, for some mystical reason unknown to man, I forgot).

That habit is as secure as getting dressed in the morning or brushing my teeth at night. And I've often wondered, Why? Why did that habit stick when a million other habits haven't? Why can I get myself to write every night even when I'm so exhausted my writing is illegible, but I can't get myself to consistently fold the clothes as soon as they come out of the dryer?

I read Better Than Before, hoping it would answer this question.

And it did. (Answer: I guess I used the Strategies of Lightning Bolt, Don't-Break-the-Train (which is encompassed in First Steps), and Pairing. Who knew?)

This whole book was an absolutely fascinating look at habits. When Gretchen Rubin first began her research for it, she discovered that most books about habit-formation gave readers a precise formula for how to create a habit. (People often say that it takes three weeks to form a habit, but from personal experience (and backed up by Gretchen's research), I can tell you that doing something for 21 days doesn't guarantee in any way that I'll do it on the 22nd day. In fact, telling myself that I only have to do something for three weeks gives myself a finish line, which Gretchen declares is a very bad idea.) Gretchen realized that only a small percentage of people were actually wired to be able to successfully follow a prescribed set of steps like that.

This makes sense, right? We know that people handle learning, parenting, friendship, and work in a million different ways. Why would we expect habit formation to be any different?

Gretchen Rubin uses the question "How does a person respond to an expectation?" to divide the general population into four different groups, or Tendencies. You have the Upholders (who are very self-motivated and responsible), the Questioners (if they can figure out why they should do something, they'll do it), the Obligers (they need external accountability for success) and the Rebels (they resist anything that feels the least bit restrictive).

When I talked last month about being an Overbuyer, I said I was pretty sure I was an Obliger who leaned heavily towards Upholding. But the more I read, the more I realized it was just the opposite: I'm an Upholder who follows through on external responsibilities first.

I love making personal goals and mapping out exactly how I'm going to achieve them. However, reading this book helped me realize that my goals will almost always come second to what other people expect of me, and so if I want to be more successful with forming a habit, I should tell someone else about it because then I feel very accountable. Gretchen Rubin quoted one of her readers, who said, "'When I tell people my goals, I feel 'uber' committed to them. I'm very careful about any commitment I make out loud, because it's almost as if I feel there's no way out of the commitment after I own it."

After Gretchen describes the Four Tendencies, she devotes the rest of the book to various Strategies for habit formation. There's the Strategy of Monitoring (as Gretchen says, "If we want something to count in our lives, we should figure out a way to count it."), the Strategy of Inconvenience (if you put the chocolate on the highest shelf in the kitchen, you're less likely to mindlessly eat it), and the Strategy of Pairing (a personal favorite of mine--if you tie one habit to another, it's more likely that both will occur). I counted them up, and I think Gretchen goes over nineteen different strategies (and within those nineteen, she breaks it down even further). That's a lot of tools; so many, in fact, that no matter what your natural Tendency, you can probably find something that will work for you.

I use the Strategy of Accountability to my advantage all the time, and this blog has provided a great forum for it. For the last three years, I've made reading goals, which have made me read all kinds of things I wouldn't have made time for otherwise. I also wrote a post about how I was managing my time online (and then felt super guilty every time I looked at my phone before lunch). And most recently, I wrote about how I wanted to make snack time more intentional and healthy (a follow-up post is coming soon, I promise). Once I write it down, it's like the law to me even if no one else reads it. It feels public, and so I have to follow through.

When I recognized what I was doing, I thought for sure it meant I must be an Obliger. But then I realized that the Strategy of Accountability works for all Tendencies, and the way I was employing it was actually like something an Upholder, not an Obliger, would do.

One of the other parts of the book that made a deep impression on me was the importance of beginnings and (a lack of) endings. A goal has a definite beginning and ending (I will plan, write, and publish this blog post). Conversely, a habit is a way of life (I will write three blog posts every week). The problem comes up when we confuse goals and habits--specifically, when we try to make a habit into a goal. When we have an end in sight, we go right back to our old ways after we feel like we've accomplished what we set out to do. When we form a habit, we leave the old way behind in favor of a new (and hopefully improved) one.

Ironically, just a couple of weeks before I started this book, Mike and I started a diet with a weight goal in mind. Right from the start, I was bothered with my mindset, which was something along the lines of, I can't wait to lose these last eight pounds. I can suffer through eating salad for lunch for a few weeks, and then I'm going to gorge myself on chocolate chip cookies. A habit is a lifestyle change, and too often I hope that the healthy eating habit will kick in if I'm working on a goal for six weeks. But in many ways, it's not the length of time that matters but the mindset of, I am someone who makes healthy choices.

I have to say that now that I've read three of Gretchen Rubin's books, I've become very familiar with her personal tastes, interests, and priorities. One of the reasons I love her books is because they feel very personal. She shares her own struggles and triumphs and likes and dislikes. However, sometimes her personal bias shined through just a little too much for me. I don't remember thinking this with the other two books, so it could just be that I've heard about her strength training and low-carb eating a few too many times, but sometimes her authoritative tone annoyed me (like when she concisely shut down the thirst-can-be-mistaken-for-hunger theory, and I happened to disagree with her). Even with those few annoyances though, I would never want to change her writing style. Her books would lose so much appeal for me if she cut out all the parts that were distinctly Gretchen.

Just a fair warning: you have not heard the last of this book. I have so many more things I want to discuss, but I can't fit them all into one review, nor can I do justice to them if I don't give them their own blog posts. So stay tuned for many more habit-themed blog posts in the future.

At the beginning of the book, Gretchen attempts to define what a habit is and why good habits are so beneficial. That definition stayed with me because it rang so true. She said, "Habits make change possible by freeing us from decision making and from using self control."

That's it! That's why I am so interested in harnessing the potential energy of habits. I don't want to decide to eat an apple for a snack. I don't want to choose between washing the dishes immediately after eating or going outside with my kids. I don't want to wonder if I should help Aaron with his homework now or wait until tomorrow. Decision-making stresses me out and drains all my energy. I want as many things to happen automatically as possible so that I can focus all my attention on the things I really care about.

That's the power of habits. (Now excuse me while I go write in my journal.)

What are your most effortless habits? What are your Strategies?

Are You an Underbuyer or an Overbuyer?

This week I've been reading Gretchen Rubin's newest book, Better Than Before: Mastering the Habits of Our Everyday Lives (I mentioned it several weeks ago, but just this week, I finally had time to start it). It is so good. I might like this one even more than The Happiness Project or Happier at Home (and you know that's saying something). Perhaps it's because I've noticed how habits are inextricably linked to my own happiness, and so a book that's all about how to form and maintain those habits is just completely fascinating and interesting.

One of the first things Gretchen sets out to do is help you identify your own personality style in regards to forming and keeping good habits. She does this by laying out four broad tendencies (I'm pretty sure I'm an Obliger who leans heavily towards Upholding) and then personalizing them by asking a series of questions.

I've been thinking a lot about one question in particular: Are you an underbuyer or an overbuyer?

Gretchen talked about this question in The Happiness Project in relation to the question, "Can money buy happiness?" (The answer: yes.) But she brought it up again in relation to habits because it's helpful to know if you're the type of person who will go out and buy all the latest running gear in order to make running a habit or if you're more likely to run in whatever you already have available.

I am an underbuyer. No question. In answer to the running example, I run in a pair of two-year-old Nikes (that felt like a big splurge at the time), a pair of men's athletic shorts (when the weather is warm enough) and an old family reunion t-shirt. I cut a mean figure, that's for sure. Granted, I'm not that serious about running, but there are still many days when I'd like to own different running attire . . .  but just not enough to actually buy any.

But it's not just running. My underbuying tendencies influence everything I do. (And no, I don't think this tendency has anything to do with money trauma in the past. Thankfully, I've always been blessed with enough.)

When we go out to eat, I rarely order anything to drink besides water, and I always begrudge the tip at the end (I know! I promise it has nothing to do with not appreciating the waiter; I would just rather have the tip included in the total cost so that it doesn't feel like a decision). It's the same thing with paying a babysitter. Yes, I know she just watched my four wild children. Yes, the money was well-earned. But oh wow, it hurts to hand it over.

*******

I've been on the hunt for a new pair of sandals for summer. But I cannot get myself to buy anything. I just keep making excuses: Maybe I'll find something cheaper. Maybe I'll find something I like better. Maybe I should check the thrift store one more time. Maybe there will be a sale. Maybe I could hold out another three weeks . . . or twelve months.

*******

It honestly doesn't seem to matter if I'm spending a lot or a little, making a big purchase or a small one. Recently, I stopped in at The Children's Place because they were closing that particular location and so were liquidating the entire store. Everything was $1.99, and so I started grabbing up pants in all sizes for my boys. (Side note: people often tell me that it must be nice to have four boys because I can just pass the clothes down to the next one. That's nice in theory but totally untrue. Boys are so hard on clothes, particularly jeans and shoes.) As I was standing in the checkout line with my arms almost breaking under the weight of so many pants, I couldn't help thinking, This is going to cost so much. Yes, I actually thought that, even though I was saving hundreds of dollars.

Mike, on the other hand, is an overbuyer (but a wise and conscientious one). When he was working on his doctorate and we didn't have any money, he didn't spend it. But once he had a real job, his spending habits gradually changed with the increase in cash flow. Going to Costco and filling his cart to the brim gives him a happy little thrill. It sends me to the edge of anxiety.

However, the great irony is that on the rare instances when I make myself spend money on something I want or need, I actually do feel happier. Take Gretchen Rubin's book, for example. I bought it. I almost never buy books for myself (after I read Notes From a Blue Bike, I went to the bookstore to buy it. I held it in my hands and walked to the checkout counter, but once I actually got there, I told them I didn't want it). Sure, it hurt to push the checkout button on Amazon, but once it came in the mail, I was so happy to actually own it.

*******

A few weeks ago, my hair was driving me crazy. I passed the mirror, saw the gross split ends, and texted my friend on the spot. I avoid haircuts almost as much as going to the dentist. It seems like such an exorbitant cost for something that's going to grow right back . . . especially when I'm not even changing the style but just getting a trim. But oh wow, after I'd done it (and paid her and the money was gone), I was so happy. It was the best haircut I've ever had. I didn't settle for the cheapest option like I usually do, and even though I agonized a ton before I went, I didn't have a single regret after the fact.

*******

I've been turning one of our basement bedrooms into a little library (and I'm excited to show it to all of you in a few weeks!). One of the things we splurged on was a cushion for a little bench seat. I had all of these ways to save money (try to find an old couch that we could steal the cushions from, buy a foam pad and cover it myself, etc.), but in the end, we hired someone to upholster one for us. It was such a great purchase! It was done much more satisfactorily than we could have done ourselves, and, more importantly, it actually got done, whereas it maybe never would have happened if I'd waited on myself.

I think I will always be an underbuyer. And for the most part, I'm happy about that. It means that we stay well within our means and that we use what we have. But, I'm slowly realizing that there are benefits to being an overbuyer as well. Overbuyers are generous and kind. They don't keep track of how many granola bars the neighbor kids are eating, and they look forward to buying a present for a baby shower.

So while I hold tight-fisted to most of my money, I'm going to make a conscious effort to relax my grip . . . just a little.

What about you? Are you an underbuyer or an overbuyer? Examples of ways you spend or hoard money are welcome in the comments!