All peanut butter'ed out

I made my umpteenth peanut butter and jelly sandwich this morning.

I have no idea how much umpteenth actually is, but in this case it means thousands upon thousands. Given how long my kids have been on this earth and of the PB&J-eating age, it's got to be at least that.

And I am burnt out, friends. For the love, can we just pack something else in a school lunch? Or can we abandon the sandwich altogether? Snacks are food, too! It's only November, and already the school lunch routine is taking me down.

this choosy mom would no longer like to choose PB, please.

I have a love-hate relationship with routines. There are some I can't live without, and others - mostly morning ones - that I'd rather change every day. But the thing is, I live by these routines because I find they're the most efficient way to get something done.

Have you been there?

Sometimes we are so engrossed in routines that we see no other way around them. The thought of changing becomes too daunting, even if we feel a tug to switch something up. It takes loads of intentionality to change.

Especially if you live in a home where no one else sees the need to change (ahem.)

But if you've done it - if you've made your move, either because you wanted to or you had to, you know. You absolutely know the exhilaration of building new routines around new circumstances and stretching yourself in ways that you haven't in a long time.

That's what happens when you toss the PB&J for the turkey-and-cheese rollup. It's dang exhilarating.

So why am I writing about this?

I fear I am losing my ability to think creatively. I know this isn't entirely true, but the sharpness is gone and the spark that ignites when I put a new idea into action is fading. It's getting harder to gear-up for the same-old/same-old. It's even harder to develop something new.

I've put a Band-Aid on the situation a number of times: my 40-by-40 list, and for-going certain traditions to see what new ones might crop up. All fun, all good stories to tell. But what happens when the list is fulfilled (it's still not, by the way) and old routines crop back up? All my efforts have spread me too thin and I feel more self-consumed than I want to be.

I don't want to be one of those people looking for the next big thing. I know greener grass isn't always on the other side. And mostly, I know that I should be (and am) entirely grateful for what I do have.

But wouldn't it be great to find that spark?

So I guess I'm already making my resolution for 2015: pare down and build back up, focusing on what will make an eternal impact. I'm already off to a good start (several weeks off of Facebook and I am still alive!)

Stay tuned ...