My word for this year is attend, to pay attention to and care of the things God has already put before me rather than piling on new goals or longing for things that haven’t been given to me in this season.
(I’m only okay at that last part…)
Looming large on that list? The people in my house.
I’ve chosen one practical way this month to put spending intentional time with them at the front of my mind:
I put them on the calendar.
I found this $3 desk calendar at Target and since I have a problem with authority, I put it on the wall. (Also, I am clearly not a photographer or decorator…)
Next to it is memory/math/calendar work I do with Ellie (6), and the pink/purple pattern is also part of our math curriculum.
But let me show you the two corner boxes:
It’s not Pinterest pretty and we haven’t executed it perfectly, but the kids have had more one-on-one outings and Matt and I have spent more intentional time together than we had in…quite some time.
According to the chart, the kids each get a date with Matt and a date with me. Claudia got to shop all morning with Matt at Goodwill, and because of time and budget, I took the girls to the EZMart and let them eat a treat with me in the car. Maybe next month will be more exciting 😉
There are weekly checkboxes for Matt and I to:
- Game night. It’s easy after a long day to curl up on the couch for TV–or worse yet, to just be in the same room together doing separate things. We could be toddlers: we parallel play like champs! While there are definitely nights for TV and parallel play, throwing game night on the calendar helps us actually look at each other in a fun context.
- Pray together. This isn’t a habit we’ve established or really had modeled, so we’re still trying to find a rhythm.
- Talk about all the things. Sometimes this is serious, like an issue to work out or budgeting stuff or sorting out plans. Other times, we’ll talk from the heart or cover an issue in the news. Whatever it is, the connection time is good.
Also, there should be a check mark in that final prayer box. The part of me that cares what you think of me desperately wants you to know.