What I need to do now is just Do.

Crap. I did it. With all the things running through my mind, from the direction of my career down to which bottle nipple to give baby depending on timing of the feeding, I dropped the ball with Sofia’s Valentine’s Day party at school. The very thing I was afraid of…

What bothers me most, besides the thought of little Sofia having no Valentines to share with her friends as her own (adorable) envelope (I’d take a picture, but Sofia has already hidden it away in her little world) was filled up with goodies, is that I didn’t simply forget, I did peruse the two-aisle Valentine Center at Target weeks ago. There was a small purchase. And I never finished.

I kept telling Sofia that we had to sign her cards and put together the gifts, but I never said that we were sitting down to do it now. The cards were tucked away in a giant Lenox cupcake.

Procrastination. Avoidance. Lazy?

Whatever it is. I don’t like the feeling of this hanging over me.

It’s always about the action. Thoughts must be executed in some way, to find their destiny. Words must be written. Buildings must be built. Clothes must be made. Parties must be had and drinks must be drunk. Or we’ll never know.

I had the inspiration right there hanging on my board, in the kitchen, where I can be found most of the time…but I didn’t follow through…

My mom, in her 60s, doesn’t stop. Besides working at her restaurant at least 9 hours a day, with the occasional forced day-off from other managers and my father. She wakes up and does a load of laundry, wipes the kitchen down if it wasn’t done the night before, looks through the mail and pays each bill when it comes, gets dressed and moves on. On her way to work, she’ll drop off the dry cleaning, pick up some fresh bananas from the market for the fruit salad, and play the lotto.

While she visited, after I gave birth, my mother, we named her the Towel Bandit because as soon as a towel was used she’d swipe it for a clean one, did not stop. I asked her repeatedly to sit with me and spend time with me, but she didn’t know how.  She just kept doing.

Growing up, I liked to read books, write, listen to songs and talk. My mother tried to teach me her way, even more extreme in her youth, but it was not me. I liked the solitary, more passive activities.

It don’t work for me anymore. Failure to execute means lots of stored energy rambling around in my head trying to escape. I meditate and do yoga (since I was a child) to quiet the energy, but what I need to do now is do.

Just Do.