Yes, but…
That is how I have responded to so many suggestions over the years, especially from my mother. Maybe it has been that way with everyone, but she is the one who pointed out years ago that I was a good “yes, but-er.” I am that indeed. This week I noticed it physically, how my body barricades itself against things immediately. The “yes, but” to protect myself from hurt that I somehow expect or think I need to guard against. As if my “but” could protect me from life. It probably has done that, but not necessarily in the way I want it to. My new intention, since I have generally been good at working my butt off for things, is to work my “but” off. The only way I know to do this is to physically intercept myself in the act of trying to close off to ideas, suggestions, or experiences.
Last Sunday I had an enormously wonderful time signing books at the Barnes & Noble in Plymouth Meeting, PA, with no ifs or buts, only wonderful ands. I was at a table with Kathleen Somers, a fellow She Writes Press author whose book pairs well with mine. And, we were visited by a handful of people from my elementary school, including one of my third grade teachers who came from many hours away! And the mother of my first-grade crush came too, as did one of the teachers from first and second grade, which in my school was a combined class. It was so wonderful to see these people, some of whom I hadn’t seen in thirty-six years, which is impossible if I’m only twenty myself! I got home the next day and we finally got our power back! I was struck by how quickly I went back to taking it for granted, as if it isn’t a miracle to be appreciated with awe every moment.
My Third Grade Self
But. Unfortunately, Tuesday morning Sarah had a tummy bug and had to miss school. She had to miss a few days, and she was so disappointed. She was so upset one morning that she threw on her uniform in record time, grabbed her shoes and backpack, and was about to head out the door. I blocked her exit because I wanted to contain her screams of protest within the house as it was not yet 6AM. I love that she loves school so much, but it is hard not knowing how to help her digestive system. We have struggled with this for years, and while I hope this is only a bug, I’m not entirely sure. Yes, but but but. The adorable thing was that Sarah went out later with sidewalk chalk to write “I love you” to her bus driver. For the “o” in “love” she substituted musical notes.
And. Amy and some friends hosted a clothing exchange as part of a class project, organizing the whole thing at their school. Amy came home with many new articles of clothing and a pair of heels that will make her taller than me and maybe almost as tall as Carl. While she no longer loves school the way Sarah currently does, Amy has been feeling a bit stressed about the time missed when school was closed due to the storm. That was valuable time to work on group projects. Both girls are in the home stretch, with a month or less left before summer vacation.
And. Yesterday I attended a conference on transitioning from pediatric care to adult care. While we still have at least three years before Sarah gets booted from her pediatrician, apparently it is never too early to start planning for the transition, asking for recommendations, and meeting with new doctors. I don’t remember this being much of a thing when I became an adult, but I didn’t have a bunch of specialists or conditions that required specialists. After the conference I joined Carl and the girls at the annual Pittonkatonk outdoor music festival. After being inside for hours I was not prepared for the blazing sun, and I was HOT. It was still fun to be there for an hour before the girls and I overheated and went home.
While I claimed I would work my “but” off, if anything lately I feel that it shadows my writing at every turn, both with my attempts to somehow work on another book and in my weekly updates. It seems like I have a little critic sitting on my shoulder, demanding that I delete whatever I have produced or claiming that it isn’t good enough. Blah. It’s like trying to drive while pressing the brakes at the same time. This morning I’m plowing through the buts, pushing them off to one side, and I hope to encounter all of my moments with more open arms. I keep reminding myself that I just don’t know the answer about so many things, and maybe it is okay not to know. Maybe I can approach my “yes, but” as Sarah would and dub myself Baby Yes But.
Yes, but.
Yes.
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