Who needs Goals? Most of us, it would seem. It is a word I often use, but, honestly, ‘goal’ is such an arbitrary word, often abused in the attempt to sound driven and energetic. For example, it was my goal this morning to write this piece out on my back deck, with Keira to play happily beside me with her bucket of water, whilst Riley has his morning nap inside. Doesn’t that sound delightfully bacchanalian for Keira and restorative for Riley?
The reality? Keira has had a miniature tantrum because I will not let her change clothes for the tenth time because, yet again, SHE HAS SPILLED WATER ON HERSELF AND IT’S ICKY. And Riley? He is still in there crying as I type, as he settles himself off to sleep. Why is he crying? Who knows? Should I go in there? I am bombarded with these kinds of domestic questions instead of being able to concentrate. I realize my plans (read: goals) are headed down the plughole and that everyday circumstances often thwart best intentions. We languish in the land of ‘if onlys’.
I’m the worst for letting this become an excuse for, then, not doing things. Surrendering to malaise. For example, if I didn’t get a chance for research during the day, come night time, and I can, I mostly opt for bed, where I can stretch out with a book for a blessed amount of brief time before sleep beckons. Then the next day I curse myself for not being productive. I should even spare a thought for Adam who may – but likely not – have had an intelligible conversation with me: not one that includes somewhere in its midst the words, ‘poo’, ‘wee’, ‘discipline’, ‘bedtime’ or any other that comes as a toddler’s parent.
This is when I wonder if perhaps I can re-define a ‘goal’ to be a certain kind of compromise. For say if I do go to bed, I could take the laptop with me and tap away. I could then sleep with a reasonable amount of satisfaction and this satisfaction could, hopefully, reset my whacked out REM patterns of late.
Wow – maybe unmet goals aren’t as bad as we think. Maybe their just karma’s way of offering a different perspective because, wouldn’t you know it, Riley’s gone to sleep as I’ve been writing this and Keira is now happily sitting beside me, eating a plate of cheese and biscuits. And I’ve finished here.
Mission accomplished.
What ‘goals’ of yours have been getting you down because you think they’re too hard? Can they be redefined instead?
This has been written for Scribbit’s Write Away Contest
