a calendar here, a planner there

 I think my desire to schedule and plan has gotten a bit out of control.

As I'm sitting in my office, I see my Google calendar I use for work on my screen. I look up at the wall, where I have a monthly calendar with stickers and labels and my running schedule marked. Next to my left hand is my Passion Planner, and on my iPad is a Passion Planner digital. Yes, my calendaring has gotten a bit intense.

I typically rely on my Google calendar and a paper calendar to manage my time. But I think the pandemic lured me into thinking if I could just organize things fully, if I could just make sure I plan enough, then I can make everything a bit better. And in some ways, I'm right--we have been falling into some good rhythms with cleaning and work; this semester, I'm prioritizing not working late at night (typing on this blog withstanding); I'm working out more and sticking with my running/barre schedule; I feel organized and like I know what's going on in a day and that I have a sense of what I can feasibly get done.

However, I really don't need all these calendars and planners around because I'm spending too much time updating all of them instead of just the typical paper calendar and Google calendar instead of actually doing the things I need to get done. It's like my habit of writing out to-do lists instead of, say, doing things.

a candy bowl

 It was Christmas, and the candy abounded, from stocking stuffers to presents sent. As I gathered up all the candy, I grabbed a bowl and put it all in one place and set it out where it was easily accessible, even for a preschooler who really, really loves candy.

But then a funny thing happened--after a few days, the novelty wore off, and the candy has just continued to sit there. Partly because all the really good candy got eaten, but also because it's just there. It's not novel. If the kid asks for candy, we let him, but he really only goes after a piece every now and then, even his chocolate money. I suspected this might be the impact--which is why I set the candy out in the first place--but I was curious to see what would happen when I did it.

I was influenced by a memory of another time where candy was freely available. One of my good friends always had candy laying around (maybe still has--I haven't seen her in a while)--in bowls on coffee tables and countertops. I used to be so surprised and often had a hard time not wanting to eat all the candy, particularly the chocolates: I'd never had unfettered access to sweets in all my life, and at that time as an adult definitely believed that I couldn't keep sweets in the house because I couldn't "control" myself.

But, this was all before I started learning about intuitive eating and coming to trust myself around food. Learning that it's less about control and more about not restricting access or labeling foods as off limits. Now, we can have ice cream in the freezer and it's not devoured immediately, chocolate bars will remain in the house for longer than a day, and I will eat something sweet if I want it, but not to the point of being obsessive or eating it until I don't feel well. It feels like magic sometimes, but it's really self-trust and self-care.

And I want to make sure my kid has that experience, and that we trust him to eat the food he wants to eat, and, for the most part, he does. And the candy bowl can stay out, and he's not in it all the time because he's kind of forgotten it's there until he remembers, and then he fishes out a sour gummy or a sucker and that's that.