In the last few months I have felt - in more moments than I care to share - that I wasn't going to be able to keep all my plates spinning. Wife, mother, photographer, ombudsman, friend, teacher, cook, maid, daughter, sister, etc, etc, etc... it was a lot to keep spinning all at once. The thing is, you never know how close you are to that point until you are to that point. People would hand me spinning plates and I'd gladly take them. I'd see others struggling with a plate so I'd offer to take it. Then I'd think, huh, a pink spinning plate would be cool...so I'd start a pink spinning plate. And then I'd stack plates on top of ones already spinning. And all the plates are great and need someone to spin them, and I am more than capable, so why not me? And every once in a while one would wobble a bit and require a little extra TLC to keep it from toppling off it's precarious perch. And that was fine. I'd take my eyes off the steady spinners long enough to tame the nervous plate. But then I had more than one wobble at the same time...and the wobbles became more than wobbles and I didn't have enough eyes or hands to tame the finicky dishes. I did my best to keep them all from falling, but some did. And the unfortunate thing is the ones that fell are some of the ones that matter most to me. I was so concerned about keeping plates spinning that could have been kept going by someone else that a few of my own crashed to pieces.
Over the last month I have learned a few things:
I don't need to spin all the plates.
It's ok to sometimes say no to someone who wants you to spin one.
It's even ok to ask someone else to take one and have a turn spinning it.
Next year I will spin less plates, and I'll only spin the ones that REALLY matter.
It's my only resolution.