I’ve been feeling really anxious lately. My older son started Kindergarten at a new school today and I’ve been dreading this day like the plague. There are several reasons this transition has been hard on me.

1. I am a person of routine and I really like following a set routine regularly. I know that bores many people but not me. I thrive on it and need it to maintain my sanity most days. New school means new routine, new schedules to worry about, new procedures to remember, new people to meet, new and unexpected problems that I don’t even know about yet.

2. I’ve spent the last few months pondering about the virtues of public vs private school and am still not sure we’re doing the right thing. Or even what the right thing is. Education is really really important to me and is something I want to get right. Now if only these things came with guarantees….

3. This marks the beginning of my son’s school life. A life where he spends 6+ hours of his days nowhere near me. His own life. While I understand this is wonderful in many ways, too, it’s just frightening to me that he’s so young and yet he will get on a bus and go to school and make friends, do things, learn things, and then get on another bus and hopefully not get lost on the way home. Hopefully he won’t get off on the wrong stop. He won’t lose his bus pass. He’ll remember his backpack. He will eat his lunch and put the lunchbox back in the bag for me to fill the next day. He’ll keep track of his homework so he can bring it home. I can go on and on. Thoughts, worries, possible scenarios are just dancing in my head. Keeping me up at night.

The thing is, I know that life always moves forward. That’s the great thing about life: constant change. And we’re arriving at a new phase in his life. One that will involve more independence and responsibility on his part. When I truly think about it, I know he will rise to the challenge. He always does. He’s taking all of this with much more joy and enthusiasm than I am. And I am so proud of him.

I know that some of my fears might come true. (Hopefully most won’t.) But I also know that we can recover from pretty much all of it. What is even more important is that my anxiety and worrying isn’t helping me or him. It’s keeping me up at night and stopping me from being as present as I could be. It’s setting the wrong example to him and sending messages that there’s something to worry about here. When, actually, this is a moment to celebrate. A passage he deserves and welcomes with open arms. As should I.

I am trying to remember a post I made last December. Choosing Joy over worry. Choosing to embrace each moment. Choosing to look at things from a positive stance and be grateful for what’s here. Be grateful that I am there to see him through this amazing new step in his life and the millions of other things I have to be grateful for in general and specific to this path. My husband reminded me today that this is a choice. Every day (and even every moment) I have the choice to be anxious or worried or joyful. Why not take the one that makes me happiest?

So tonight as I review the roads to the bus that will take my son to school tomorrow, I sit with these words. As I worry about how my little boy will do during a two-hour meeting I plan to attend at the school (a meeting that falls inside his nap time), I remind myself that things will go as they will. We will make it through as we always do. We will walk the path.

And so, why not make the choice to walk it with joy?

I’ve been in a really grouchy mood for the last few days. I had no reason for it. My life is quite wonderful and I have a lot to be thankful for, and yet, I was cranky and yelling at everyone around me. Especially the people I love and people who’re patient with me. Mentally, I knew that this was ridiculous and that I should snap out of it, but I just couldn’t get myself to do it.

I tried many different things: I went out to meet friends and be social, I read books, I exercised, I spent time with my kids, I spent time outdoors, I went to bed earlier, I ate more fruits, I watched TV and did nothing. But none of them worked. My mood refused to go away. Some of the activities made it disappear temporarily but then it would come back full force.

And then, this afternoon, some kind people said nice things about my art. Enough to get me to sit at my table and scrap again. I didn’t worry too much about what I was creating. I picked my photo and chose my story. And I just sat to scrap. With no one to impress and no stringent requirements. I just scrapped. I thought only of making myself happy.

And it worked like a charm.

By the time I was done, my bad mood had completely disappeared. My bad mood was stopping me from making art but all I needed, all along, was to actually sit and do it. It’s like a vicious cycle. You need to break it so it can stop. So this is just in case any of you are in it. Where I was. I want to scrap but I haven’t in so long. I wish I could make the time to paint. I wish I could journal in my art journal. Or maybe it’s not art but music. Or sewing.

Whatever it is that you’ve been putting off, the thing that you know makes you happy but you’re too unhappy to do it, I am here to give you the nudge you need to go do it. Give yourself permission to do it badly. But just sit and do it. Break that cycle.

You’ll be so glad you did.

For the last three years, I’ve been taking at least one photo every day. In 2008, it was a photo a day of my older son David. In 2009, it was my then newborn son Nathaniel. This year, it’s both of them. It’s flowers. It’s a special lunch we have or a special trip we took or some present or anything that’s part of our ordinary days.

The thing I’ve learned is that what I miss the most over time is remembering the everyday, ordinary things we used to do. The toy my son was obsessed with at the time. The breakfast I looked forward to every morning. The music my little one danced to, etc. The simple, everyday things are the first things to leave my memory. It’s because they are not monumental. We barely pay any attention to them. They happen every day so their effect has dulled.

But they are so extraordinary because they are artifacts of a specific time in our lives. And capturing them in film allows us to freeze that memory so we can hold on to it forever. So, years from now, we can smile as we remember the fondness of that time. So we can allow it to transport us back to the past and re-live it for just a moment. Remember the smell of my son. The words he mispronounced. The troubles I thought I had at the time and the joys of our then everyday lives. Photographs can work magic like that.

So, today, I challenge you to capture more of your days. More of your ordinariness. I know it feels like a burden to take the photos, to download them, process them, etc. Just make it easy on yourself. Take them at a certain time everyday. Say 10am. Or 8am. or 6pm, whatever works for your schedule. Whenever your life is most ordinary. And then download them only once a week. Don’t process them. Don’t show them to anyone else if you’re worried about them not being “perfect.” But take them anyway. And save them.

Years later, when all these people who might have “commented” on the quality of your photos are long gone, you will be so very glad you have the memories. I promise you, it will be worth it.

Just give it a try.

Back in 2000, I was taking art history classes, and I wrote the following passage on my blog:

As I sat in class, looking at the modern paintings, I kept thinking about how unappealing they were to me. I’ve always been a fan of Renaissance paintings. I love studying them and finding out about the history and the time period and why the painter thought to put that specific image. The paintings of that period are all about symbolism and if you have studied some art history, you can know the story behind each symbol. To me, that’s like sharing a secret between the painter and you. Even though, I know that everyone of that period knew the specific symbols, people who don’t study art history don’t know them and can’t look for the specific clues, like the image of Michelangelo’s face on the dead skin in The Last Judgement. To me, that’s like having a sneak peak into the painter’s mind. When I look at the modern paintings, I just don’t see that. I’m not saying that one has to, I’m just saying that I like to.

Over the years, I’ve learned to appreciate many other periods but my appreciation for knowing the background, the story behind the story of the painting has never dwindled. I love that there are so many layers to each piece of art. The subject, the artist’s intent, effects of the period in which it’s created, the story behind the story. This makes art so fascinating to me and it makes me appreciate each piece that much more.

I am so grateful for artists. The path to becoming an artist is not an easy one. More often than not, it’s under-appreciated, underpaid, and full of rejection. Yet, every day, there are people who choose to walk down it. People who cannot imagine any other life. They are the reason why our life is full of color and I am so thankful for their bravery to stay true to their heart.

I apologize for posting late today. I usually do these posts the night before but, for the last two days, I’ve been consumed with a new project. This project focuses on my attempt to show gratitude to someone special in my life. Someone who’s made a difference and something for whom I really really am thankful. It’s a project that requires the efforts of others, too, so I’ve been doing the traffic-duty. The collecting and collating. It’s something that I don’t always love to do but my desire to do this project overpowers all else.

My challenge to you this week is to find ways to show gratitude. Find a way to demonstrate your thanks to someone in your life. It can be someone who’s been around a lot and has had a big impact, like your mom or dad. Or it can be the person at the checkout counter who smiled at you and brightened your day. Maybe you do a big gesture like buy someone a vacation or a small one like leave a little extra tip. Mow someone else’s lawn. Help unload groceries. Walk their dog. There are unlimited ways to show gratitude and make a difference in someone else’s life. The more unsuspecting the person, the better.

You can choose the person and the act, all I ask is that you do one thing to show gratitude. You can do more, of course, but just try to do at least one. It can even be towards yourself.

I bet you could use a nice bubble bath.

Yesterday, I woke up in a terrible mood. I was feeling both angry and sad, and of course, very soon, frustration joined in, too. Before it was 9am, I had already disappointed myself and been impatient with my kids. And, honestly, I could tell that I wasn’t nearly done. I was in such a bad mood that I could see it continuing for days and affecting others around me and creating this ripple of bad moods.

Wonderful, eh?

For some reason, around 11am, I decided enough was enough and that I wasn’t going to spend the day brooding and feeling sorry for my frustrated self. I decided to take the “fake it till you make it” approach. I figured I can act the way I want to feel. I decided I would mentally take the day off and have some ice cream with my kids, play in the yard, maybe even go for a walk and just fake being happy until I actually felt it.

So I grabbed a popsicle and told my older son that the three of us were going to share it. The joy in his face already did wonders for my mood. Within an hour or so, I was feeling considerably better. So much so that I sat and accomplished a lot of work. Then I went to the yard to play with my kids and we laughed and laughed as we played.

By night time, there were still some feelings of unease but they were receding quickly and I felt very strongly that tomorrow (today) was going to be a better day. This morning, I woke up feeling much better and more positive. It’s still not 100% better but I am still “faking it till I make it” and there’s a lot less faking than yesterday.

Sometimes that’s what a gratitude journal is about, too. There are days when it feels like there’s nothing good in my life. Days when I am so upset by something that it colors everything else I feel. But my journal forces me to come up with three things, even on that day. It feels fake and I just go through the motions. But, often, by the time my list is complete, I feel slightly better. I have to admit that even on that terrible day, there are good things in my life.

And sometimes the faking really really works.