There is something uniquely special about starting a new routine. Especially one you can’t easily opt out of. One you’re counting on to inject some sanity back into your life.
It’s interesting. We work tirelessly for freedom. Then we run back to routine.
I question the moth’s sanity as it flies hopelessly at the light, banging thoughtlessly against it, shoulder to shoulder with every other moth in the neighborhood. Then I look at this week.
My kindergartener is riding the bus. It comes at 6:49. My wife and I walk her to the stop, put her on, wave, and then (for the first week only) get in the car and race the bus to school so we can be standing there when she gets off. We sit with her in the cafeteria. Folded into spaces designed for smaller bodies, teaching her a ritual she’ll hopefully execute for the next thirteen years.
We want these routines to take, and we’ll go to great lengths to make them so.
Doesn’t feel so much different from the moth.
Right now, all over Atlanta, parents of school-aged kids are living inside that buzz. First days will turn into first weeks. Everything starts to make sense. Shoes in the closet, backpacks ready to go, bedtimes more of a reality.
Turns out I like being told what to do by a calendar I didn’t write.
A younger me would have pushed back against my lack of choice. I would have wanted novelty, tried to figure out “my way” … turns out the way most people do most things is just about right.
My human-ness feels a little different post-kids. I want to be present. I want the gold star for being a great dad. I also catch myself daydreaming about what I’ll do with the rest of the morning the minute the kids are safely settled.
Owning King of Pops has saddled me with a pretty seasonal life. Long, hot, sweaty days for half the year. The other half is a bit more “normal,” and honestly, that half takes way more discipline. Even if it isn’t what I would choose, I’m more relaxed when something outside of me is setting the pace.
So I’ll take this one while it’s here. The 6:49 bus and everything that comes after it.
And then, not so many mornings from now, it’ll be October. I’ll step outside and get one of those fake Atlanta fall shivers, and in an instant I’ll be reminded that everything is about to change. Nobody will announce it. We’ll all just quietly start doing something else. I’ll be ready for that too.
Not sure what I’m saying. I guess just that the routine is pretty nice right now.
Fly at the light. Everyone’s doing it.
