Give it 100

We have a bedtime routine in the Walter house.

This shouldn’t be all that mind-blowing. A bedtime routine is lauded in parenting books, sure. But most of us naturally create these little rituals and sequences of events that lead up to snuggling down in our beds on the verge of dreams.

In our house, the routine involves stories. Each big kid gets to pick one story, they aren’t allowed to read the same book twice in the same day, and we alternate whose story goes first.

In our house, the routine involves songs. I used to have a real mash-up compiled of all the songs my mom used to sing to me at bedtime. I’ve managed to make them my own, partly because I don’t remember all the words and partly because who doesn’t love to hear their own name in a bedtime song? I sit on each kids’ bed and sing them their song while scratching their back. Of course, we alternate who gets the first song.

And in our house, the routine involves an entire hug and smooch bit that never fails to make us all giggle, regardless of whatever bedtime drama had preceded it.

As I sang to Anson tonight, scratching his back (“under the shirt, Mama!”) through “The Color Song” which is actually “Jesus Loves the Little Children” with an entire verse dedicated to Anson, I happened to glance at the wall.

Taped there are a few of Anson’s drawings. He always signs his art with his full name (in all caps) and a number representing his age. He has proudly transitioned to “5” – but the pieces on his wall are from the “4” era. One of the pictures is of Stick Figure Anson, with this three fingers on each hand (!!) and a smile that takes up all of his face. Next to Stick Figure Anson is Stick Figure Mom, who is easy to spot in the drawing by being twice as tall as Stick Figure Anson.

It isn’t like I haven’t seen this art before. I’m sure that I helped Anson find the tape to stick the art to the wall in the first place. But in this moment, I was struck by the fact that this little person is becoming a REAL HUMAN BEING. He leaves his mark wherever he goes (often in the form of messes but sometimes in the form of delightful Stick Figures). He helps. He manages his emotions. He communicates effectively, uses manners, and volunteers to do chores (sometimes). He colors, draws, writes his name, asks how to write other words, makes “lists”, and can follow the instructions in a Lego package.

I looked at the pictures on Anson’s wall, and I got the biggest smile on my face. You know the smiles that come out in your voice? One of those. I almost laughed as I sang Anson’s verse of “Jesus Loves the Little Children” –

You are mommy’s special boy
And you fill my heart with joy
Mommy loves you more than anything in the world.

Sometimes the bedtime routine becomes so automatic that (I’m a little ashamed to admit) I almost check out during it. I can read half a story (with enthusiasm, even) without really processing it. My body is in the kids’ room helping them wind down, but my brain is making lists of all the things I need to do once the kids are asleep.

I don’t want my moments with the kids to be automatic. I don’t want any part of my life to be automatic, because (as John Maxwell puts it) everything that’s automatic is downhill. The dishes will get done, laundry will get folded, this writing I’m supposed to be doing while I work on this book; only showing up halfway for my kids doesn’t get any of that stuff done better, or faster.

I will give 100% to my kids, notice them, their art, the softness of their skin, the fresh scent of their Tropical Twist toothpaste on their bedtime smooches. Then I’ll close the door to their room and give 100%  to the next task I have to accomplish. These all-in, Give It 100 spurts of effort make an enormous impact on the project, my relationships, the effectiveness of my work.

What’s an area of life where you’re on automatic? What could “Giving it 100” look like for you? When you give LIFE 100% you might find it gives you even more back in return.