It’s not that I’m surprised at being the youngest person in my water aerobics class. I was taken aback, however, when I realized on my first day there, that had she come with me, my mother would have been the youngest one there. The fact that I had somehow signed up for an exercise class that was clearly for elderly women was so absurd to me that during the first twenty minutes of that initial session, it was all I could do to resist bursting into giggles. I bit the inside of my lips. I closed my eyes and did yoga breathing. And I made it. I did not collapse into laughter. I honestly wasn’t sure if I could go back a second time though. What were the odds that I could keep it together twice?
About 20 minutes ago, for the first time since about Saturday afternoon, I felt caught up. Not finished for the day. Not ahead. Just not drowning. I celebrated by brushing my teeth. I’ve got big plans to take the party grocery shopping in a few minutes (seriously, I’m sort of passionate about grocery shopping. Super pumped about it). After that I’ll buckle down and doggie paddle through the rest of the day.
I don’t mention this to enter the I’m-busier-than-you fray, because I abhor the glorification of busyness. I feel lucky to be having a busy month, but I have slow months too, and moderately-paced months. I mention it because I believe in the power of celebrating tiny victories. In fact, I think it’s a necessity. Too often we’re so focused on long term goals – buying the house, paying off the student loans, getting the big break, winning at life – that we wait too long between celebrations. And it’s exhausting to be always toiling and never celebrating. Celebrating is fun. If we’re not finding reasons to celebrate, even tiny ones, then what are we doing with our lives, people?