The Grand Prismatic is one of the things I was most looking forward to seeing on our family trip to Yellowstone National Park. It’s like I had to see it to believe it was real.

This is not an uncommon sentiment when it comes to this magical place.

The early explorers who came back with stories from Yellowstone were written off as crazy people. Surely a loose screw, an overindulgence in booze, or insanity caused by being alone for too long was easier to believe than the tall tales that returned. Upside-down waterfalls? Boiling rivers? Bubbling mud? Twenty-foot beasts?

Please.

Well, if you’ve never seen a geyser, hydrothermal activity, or an angry grizzly bear reared up on its hind legs, you’d deem these reports as unbelievable, too.

I have been to Yellowstone, and in the words of Han Solo when speaking to Rey and Finn about the Force, “It’s true. All of it.” (Even the grizzlies, although I didn’t experience an angry one.) The place is filled with the unbelievable.

But of course, now it is believable. Because we’ve seen the pictures and millions of us have visited, having driven through it on roads that weren’t there 150 years ago. And so the amazement has dimmed.

Just like it has with all the wonders of this world.

We are surrounded — besieged! saturated! deluged! — by the unbelievable, but because it’s familiar, we treat it like an afterthought. Every day becomes ho-hum.

But pretend with me for a moment that you’re from Mars, a barren red wasteland, and you’re hearing about Earth for the first time. What if I told you it was a place where…

Food grows right out of the ground.

Water comes from a sky that regularly changes color throughout the day.

Sometimes that water turns into trillions of tiny crystals that cover the ground and shine like diamonds when the sun hits it just right.

Small flying insects use flowers to create a delicious, sweet liquid called honey.

The people living there are created when two microscopic cells meet under just the right conditions.

The majority of the oxygen those people depend on for survival comes from a vast army of invisible sea creatures.

The people can fly across a vast ocean in a matter of hours.

They burn ancient sea creatures to fuel their vehicles.

They can significantly improve their vision by applying small slips of soft plastic to their eyeballs, and they just throw them away at the end of the day.

They have small handheld devices that allow them to listen to any song ever recorded, communicate across continents by video, tell them how to get anywhere on Earth, and share cute photos of cats.

And yes, there really are rainbow pools in this land that once teemed with animals bigger than a house.

Balderdash! you say?

Well, I’ve been there and it’s true. All of it.

Unfortunately, the sad fact is that most of the people who live there take it all for granted. It’s all familiar. Ho-hum.

Now that’s balderdash. Today, my friend is not just another day.

Keep your eyes peeled. Don’t miss it.

The unbelievable is everywhere.

🤔 I wonder…what was a part of your week that someone who lived on Mars might have a hard time believing?

A clear night sky is a thing of beauty, with millions of stars blinking silently overhead.

It’s a pity we rarely notice them.

In an episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm, Larry David is speaking with a receptionist at a law firm who has a spectacular view of the city behind her. “Beautiful view here! How long did it take you to take it for granted?”

She replies, “Umm, not long I guess.”

He candidly admits, “It would take me about a day. Maybe less. Maybe half an hour. And I would never look out the window again.”

How quickly we take wonder for granted.

This painting was inspired by a passage I read in the book The Sense of Wonder, by conservationist Rachel Carson, who wrote about a summer her grandnephew visited her cottage in Maine, and together they wandered the surrounding woods and tide pools.

She recounted a particular evening when they gazed in awe at one of those breathtaking night skies: 

“It occurred to me that if this were a sight that could be seen only once in a century or even once in a human generation, this little headland would be thronged with spectators. But it can be seen many scores of nights in any year, and so the lights burned in the cottages, and the inhabitants probably gave not a thought to the beauty overhead; and because they could see it almost any night perhaps they will never see it.”

Because they could see it almost any night perhaps they will never see it.

This painting takes its inspiration from those lights burning in the cottages, with the inhabitants giving not a thought of the beauty overhead.

What if a party of giant glowing jellyfish appeared above your town and put on a light show? Surely that would get your attention.

But what if it happened every year? Every week? Every night? How long would it take before everyone stopped caring?

Not as long as you’d think.

Apollo 11 landed on the moon. It was a huge source of national pride. Half a billion people were glued to their television sets watching the historic achievement.

Nine months later—nine months!—flights to the moon had already become boring. By the time Apollo 13 came around, the television networks didn’t even bother covering the launch or broadcast the live video of the crew from space because they felt there wasn’t enough interest. Nobody wanted their soap operas or game shows interrupted by another group of heroes doing what most people had never done before. Only until Apollo 13 got in trouble did anyone care.

We grow numb to wonder.

Look around you. What are you taking for granted? What are you missing?

Be honest: When was the last time you gazed at the stars?

Stood in awe at a sunrise bursting forth color on the horizon?

Sat in silence amidst the peace of a placid snowfall?

I don’t know about you, but I am disgusted by this propensity to grow numb to wonder.
But can we do anything about it?

Fortunately, Rachel Carson shows us a way:

“One way to open your eyes to unnoticed beauty is to ask yourself, ‘What if I had never seen this before? What if I knew I would never see it again?'”

One painting and two powerful questions remind us to keep our eyes peeled for the wonder all around us.

🤔 I wonder…what is an example of wonder you’ve been privileged to witness recently?

Last week I was enjoying a wonderful dinner with some speaker friends. We started a table discussion about the best place you’ve ever been that you’d like to go back to. While others shared amazing stories of Tuscany, Brazil, and Ireland, I felt silly because all I could think of was the Quality Inn in Clearwater, Florida.

I’m pretty sure the year was 2007. Kim and I didn’t have kids yet, and we were in the early stages of my speaking career. We’d recently been to a speakers convention where a guy named Randy Gage talked about these exotic bungalows in Tahiti. He noted that some are perched over the water, featuring cool glass-bottomed floors, and wondered why anyone would invest the considerable expense to vacation in Tahiti and then settle for the slightly cheaper but extremely less exotic wood-bottomed accommodations a few hundred feet inland.

So as we checked into the Quality Inn, the host offered us the option of upgrading from our “Garden View” room (which savvy travelers know as code for “Ugly Roof and Air Conditioning Unit View”) to an “Ocean View” room.

“How much extra would that cost?” we asked.

“$20 a night,” was the reply.

We huddled to talk it over. Twenty bucks was a big deal for us, which should not come as surprise because as I mentioned, we were checking in to a QUALITY INN.

With Randy’s rallying cry still ringing in our ears, we threw caution to the wind and said YES.

Isn’t it funny how often it takes far less than a million dollars to feel like a millionaire? That’s definitely how we felt as we triumphantly surveyed our ocean view.

Photographers often refer to the hour before sunset as “magic hour,” because the light from the sun casts a beautiful golden hue on everything it touches. I remember lying on our bed, watching the sun sink into the Gulf. And I still remember how beautiful Kim looked. I’m so glad we snapped this selfie before selfies were a thing.

I also remember that back then, we spent a lot of our time dreaming of “making it” and looking forward to the days when we’d be checking in to much fancier hotels, you know, like Quality Inns in Tuscany.

I spent a lot of time striving, worrying, and wishing I was somewhere else. Somewhere better. But I look back now and realize what an exciting, fun time that really was.

Sometimes we get so caught up chasing the next moment that we forget to savor the one we’re in.

So yeah, I wouldn’t mind going back there, just to spend more time savoring the best twenty bucks I ever spent.

We ordered a pizza last weekend from a local joint that we love. When the delivery driver pulled into our driveway, we were delighted to see that she had decorated her car for Halloween! Several large rubber spiders clung to her cobweb-laden Corolla, and when she came to the door, not only did she have a hot pizza, but she also pulled some fun stickers out of her pocket to give to the kids!

I guess you could say she was an over-delivery driver!

She didn’t need permission from her boss to do what she did. She didn’t even need much money. And I am certain that this wasn’t an official “initiative” handed down from above. Considering the big tip we gave her, I wondered why more delivery drivers don’t take more initiative like this.

Alas, some pizza delivery drivers are just pizza delivery drivers. But this pizza delivery driver was an artist.

No matter your station in life — but especially if you work for a big organization — it’s very easy to become paralyzed thinking, “I can’t change that,” or “I don’t have the power to do anything about this.” Although you may be right, a better strategy might be to focus instead on the things you can control. Even if they are very, very small.

You could bring in doughnuts to work for no reason.

You could start off each team meeting with a silly joke.

You could ask every customer you encounter today what their favorite movie is.

You could decorate your delivery vehicle for Halloween.

No, you may not have much pull to change the big stuff. Who cares? It’s the little things that have always made the biggest difference anyway.

You don’t need permission to be an Adultitis Fighter. You just need to decide that you will be.

The other day was really good. Nothing earth-shattering occurred, but it ended up just being really wonderful. After a decent night’s sleep, I made a breakfast of eggs, sausage and cinnamon rolls. Then we all headed to the local Apple Store to see if the wifi on my phone was broken. It was, and out of warranty, to boot. (Not great.) We decided to upgrade and order new phones (Super great!) After chowing down on that new bacon stuffed crust pizza at Pizza Hut, we drove home and Kim and I enjoyed some peace and quiet in the yard while the kids napped. Afterwards, we took advantage of the wind and did some kite flying. Then I threw some pork chops on the grill for dinner. After a quiet evening reading books to the kids, Kim and I watched an episode of The Blacklist after the kids went down.

As my head hit the pillow that night, I could almost hear Ice Cube singing, “Today was a good day.”

It got me thinking about good days, and how groundbreaking things don’t necessarily have to happen for a day to be labeled as good. It got me wondering if there was a way to increase the regularity of good days in one’s life, which reminded me of an article by Noah Kagan, called Hacking Your Best Day Ever.

The premise is to keep track of the things that make the good days good, and then intentionally build them into your everyday.

If you have a great day, keep track of things that made it great. Or at least spend a little time at the end of each day thinking about your favorite part. Over time, you’ll start to see some patterns.

Here are some of my favorite things:

• Enjoying a big, leisurely breakfast.
• Being out in nature.
• Quiet time in prayer.
• Playing with the kids.
• Big chunk of uninterrupted time to work on art.
• Engaging conversation with Kim.

Once you know what these things are, you are able to intentionally inject them into your day. There are no guarantees, but it does make the odds of having a good day drastically tilt in your favor.

And that’s a game worth playing.

What are some of YOUR ingredients for a good day?

Adultitis was kicking our butt.

It had been exactly a month since Virginia Rose was born. A good month, to be sure, but also a long one. Weary of the bitter cold weather, our entire family was tired of being cooped up, and the older two kids were passing time by pushing our buttons. Two-year-old Ben had a streak of purple under his nose, a colorful souvenir from “smelling” the markers we used to keep him quiet. Although we pined for an afternoon at a Florida beach, it was decided that going out to lunch was the best we could hope for today.

As I went to wipe the marker from Ben’s face, Kim made some comment about him looking a bit like Hitler. Then she said, “I wish we could just draw mustaches on our kids, wouldn’t that be awesome?”

“It would be,” I agreed.

“Why don’t we?” she asked.

I could tell by her tone that she was kind of serious. And so I paused to ponder a serious response.

“Because of what other people might think,” I answered.

Before I even finished the sentence, I knew what I had to do.

“Give me that purple marker,” I said. After glancing to confirm it was the washable variety, I removed the cap and called Ben over. Then I drew a bold and curly mustache on my son. Although he cooperated, it’s fair to say he had no idea what I was doing.

“Ok.” I proclaimed. “NOW, let’s go to lunch.

And we did, with our purple mustachioed son in tow.

It did garner some attention. No calls from DCFS, as Adultitis had warned. Instead, the people who noticed universally responded with smiles of delight at my oblivious son who looked like a tiny ringleader in a circus sponsored by Willy Wonka. And it was awesome.

Here’s a tip: If you are faced with an opportunity to do something, and the only reason you don’t is because of what someone else might think, you can be certain that Adultitis is up to no good. If you are serious about winning this war, and you are desirous of living an amazing story, you must do that very thing, without hesitation. You must.

Family with spring fever and three kids, five and under: 1, Adultitis: 0.

Share a time when YOU did something fun without regard to what other people might think. Leave a comment below!

Here’s Don’s commentary:

It just goes to show you how great life can be if you’re willing to slow down for people. Of course, none of us are Bill Murray, but slowing down for your spouse, your kids or your friends for just a minute to really give them something that will blow their minds is a magical concoction that makes life great.

I couldn’t agree more. In a season typically filled with busyness, stress, and last-minute everything, it’s a particularly great lesson to let soak in.

If you want some REAL holiday magic this season, try slowing down.

I was shocked to see that our neighbor put up her Christmas tree the day after Halloween. I tried to imagine a plausible explanation. Perhaps she was leaving for a two-month trip to New Zealand and wouldn’t return until Christmas Eve, and she certainly wouldn’t want to have to unpack AND put up the tree? Then I started seeing and hearing of more people doing the same. I saw one house with a Christmas tree in their window and a jack-o-lantern on the porch.

Look, I’m not the Christmas police here. I’m not exactly sure what the “appropriate” time to put up your tree actually is. I only point it out because I see a bigger trend here that involves more than just the early onset of Christmas.

It involves the concept of waiting. Or rather, our increasing disdain for it.

For example, people look at Kim and me like we have lobsters coming out of our ears when we tell them that we don’t know if our baby is going to be a boy or a girl. One lady, upon learning that this was our third child, gave us an “oh, isn’t that cute” look, and went on to assume that we of course found out for our other two. When we told her we hadn’t, I’m pretty sure one of the fuses in her brain burnt right out.

Whether it’s finding out the gender of our babies, to carrying credit card debt, to putting our Christmas trees up that day after Halloween, to nuking our Thanksgiving dinner in a minute or less, we have turned into a culture that can’t wait for anything. Of course, we have perfectly reasonable explanations for any of these actions, but are the actions really necessary?

I realize that I am in danger of inciting a holy war. Trust me, that’s not my intent. I only bring it up because it seems like we are systematically eliminating from our lives one the greatest things about childhood: anticipation.

I think Andy Warhol was right: Waiting for something DOES make it more exciting. At least that’s what I’ve found true in my own life.

Don’t get me wrong. Waiting is HARD. It borders on downright terrible sometimes. It’s not surprising that when we have the opportunity to NOT wait, as we often do once we become adults, we want to skip to the last page and see how it ends.

When we do, we get a momentary thrill of instant gratification, but we lose something much greater. One of the reasons Adultitis is so rampant in our lives is because we are in such short supply of anticipation.

I’ve written about this before, but it bears repeating, especially this time of year:

It’s quite tempting to skip to the end, to sneek a peek, to make the magician reveal the the secret to his trick. Especially when you can. Resist, my friend. Don’t rob yourself of the misunderstood and unheralded joy of anticipation.

What do you think? Am I on to something or is Adultitis getting the best of me?

When it comes to fashion, I’m pretty plain. My daily uniform is usually jeans and a t-shirt. When I speak, I gussy up the jeans and t-shirt with a sport coat. Throughout my entire life, my shoes have typically been one color (black or white) with no more than one accent color. To me, fashion is all about two things: comfort, and not looking like an idiot. Since I’ll never be mistaken as a New York City fashionista, the “looking like an idiot” part is avoided by keeping things plain and simple.

And then I started thinking about getting red shoes.

A few months ago, I found myself in the market for new sneakers. Every once in a while, I would notice someone wearing red shoes. I’m talking ALL red, not white or black with a tiny splash of red. They’re hard to miss, those Red Shoe People. I always thought to myself, “Man, I wish I could pull those off.” Those Red Shoe People always seemed so fun and confident and free. Eventually, the wish become stronger and the whispers became louder.

“Why can’t I pull them off?” I began asking myself. “Why can’t I wear red shoes?”

The answers I told myself were variations of the same theme:

They won’t match anything.

Face it, you’re just not one of those Red Shoe People.

Eventually, these so-called reasons really started to get to me. I spent A LOT of time mulling it over in my head. It became clear that this was about more than shoes. Ultimately, I had only one person to convince — myself.

Believe me, it was not lost on me how silly it was to agonize over shoes. Freaking shoes, man. This was NOT a life or death decision. And the biggest reason for not pulling the trigger? Worrying about what other people might think of me. Bottom line, that was it. Eventually, I came to the conclusion: “They’re shoes. Who cares what other people think? If you’d enjoy wearing them and the only reason you don’t is for fear of what other people might think, you’re a damn fool.”

I decided I didn’t want to be a damn fool. I wanted to be one of those people who wear red shoes.

And so I ordered a pair of red New Balance shoes from Zappos. Knowing they had a generous return policy, I was going to get a more “conservative” pair, just in case I really couldn’t pull off the red shoes and needed to send them back. As it turned out, they didn’t have the fallback pair in my size, so I just ordered the red.

And you know what?

I love them. They are probably my favorite pair of shoes I’ve ever worn in my whole entire life. I love how they make me feel. Not just because they make me feel fun and confident and free, although they do, in spades. They make me feel like a guy who decided it didn’t matter what other people think. And that’s where the fun and confidence and freedom come from. My soul smiles every time I tie the laces.

The moral here has nothing to do with whether you wear red shoes or not. Maybe you are already a Red Shoe Person, and you read this post thinking, “Jeez, dude, get the red shoes already. It’s not that big a deal.” Or maybe you’re someone who has no interest whatsoever in owning a pair of red shoes. Regardless of what camp you find yourself in, there is probably something in your life you’ve always (probably secretly) wanted to own, do, or be that you’ve talked yourself out of. You’ve sold yourself on the idea that you’re just not “that type of person.”

Here’s the deal: You ARE that type of person if you WANT to be. Simple as that. Life’s too short to worry about what other people think.

A neat footnote to this story (hey! a pun!) is that the very first day I wore these shoes in public, I was at a restaurant. When the waitress came to our table, she enthusiastically remarked, “I love your shoes!”

“Me too,” I smiled.

What are the “red shoes” in your life?

Mary Nuckolls is a Champion of Childhood because she gives away money.

But not the way you think.

She’s not some rich heiress who has so much money she doesn’t know what to do with it. She’s not a professional philanthropist. She works at a preschool.

But sometimes, she finds money on the street, like we all do from time to time. She once heard that when you find a penny, someone in heaven is thinking about you. Mary often finds pennies in threes: one for her mom, dad, and brother. Even if it’s only three cents, such occurrences lift her spirit. So she has taken up the habit of dropping money after she comes out of stores. In her own words:

It’s not much, usually a penny or a nickel. I think that maybe in some small way, I am brightening someone else’s day. Sometimes I leave a couple of quarters at the car wash when I am done. Makes someone’s day. I also buy McDonald’s tickets for ice cream and leave them where a kid will find them. Kinda silly, but then, isn’t that what it’s all about?

Yes, Mary, that is what it’s all about: doing things — sometimes big, but mostly small things — that brighten the world around us.

In a world rocked by war, terror and heartbreaking acts of senseless violence, it’s these small rebellions that give us the humor, hope and healing that we so desperately need.

Thank you for your example Mary, and thank you for being a true Champion of Childhood!

Photo Credit: JD Hancock

A Champion of Childhood is someone instilled with the soaring spirit of childhood who rallies against rules that don’t exist while engaging in ruthless, senseless acts of silliness that undermine the slavery of Adultitis and its unadventurous version of adulthood. We like shining a light upon the most remarkable among us, holding them up as a dazzling example of what we should strive for in this epic battle against Adultitis. See more here.

Yep, it’s official. We need more “Bams” in the world.

I don’t care whether you work at Wal-Mart or on Wall Street, you are viral. More than ever, little things are big deals.

In the fight against Adultitis, you can either be part of the problem or part of the solution.

Which do you choose?

During childhood, we tend to collect two things: toys and memories.

When I was a kid, I collected toys like Star Wars action figures, baseball cards, and Nintendo games. But I also collected neat memories of building snow forts in the front yard, picking strawberries at my Grandma’s house, and weekend getaways to the Holidome (with its glorious indoor pool).

Toys can be sold on Ebay for cash money — sometimes a lot of it — but memories? Those are priceless.

Interestingly, it doesn’t change all that much when we get older; we’re still collecting toys and memories.

Our toys are more expensive now: custom-built homes, iPads, designer shoes, Kitchenaid mixers, big screen TVs, sports cars, etc. But the memories — the things like Pajama Runs, Barbarian Spaghetti dinners, and surprise weekend trips to an indoor waterpark — they’re still as priceless as ever.

Turns out that the happiest people in the world spend their money on memories rather than toys.

I am fascinated by a concept put forth by Laura Vanderkam in her book, All The Money In The World. Using the amount of money typically spent on fancy engagement rings and weddings, Laura calculates how many date nights, bouquets of flowers, and hours of babysitting and housecleaning that money could buy over several years. She argues that these things would create more long term happiness and serve a couple better than a big ring and wedding.

We can use our time and money to collect toys or memories. We can do a little of both, sure, but for best results, make sure you’re being intentional about it.

I’ll leave you with a great quote from Laura: “Life is basically one giant memory. Creating good ones is a good use of cash.”

Indeed.

Art: “Roadster” by Jason Kotecki.

At the end of every year, Kim and I sit down and review the year that was. We talk about what went well, what didn’t go well, and reminisce about the adventures we had and the things we accomplished. The hardest part is remembering it all! We review our calendar and archived to-do lists, and even though I’m amazed at how much you can accomplish in a year, I always feel like we’re missing stuff.

Which is what makes this idea pure genius.

Find a neat jar and put it in your kitchen with a pen and a stack of tiny paper nearby. Throughout the year, write down any cool adventures, funny stories, or happy things that occur and put them in the jar. Then on New Years Eve, read all the notes and bask in gratitude at the cool stuff that happened during the year.

Since everyone in the household can contribute, a highlight is reading the notes other people added over the course of the year. Even neater: a shelf in your house that features your memory jars through the years!

Looking for some fun ideas to make sure your memory jar is filled with awesome? Try this.

Hat tip to Jill Bodwin and Jaden Hair.

Las Vegas is stunning in its grandiosity, clever in its marketing, and is awash in über talented people and beautiful design.

Las Vegas is also a loud, bold, and damning example of how far we’ve come from the childlike hallmark of delighting in the little things.

It does not take much to impress a child. They get giddy over little things. But as we get older and Adultitis settles in, it takes more and more to impress us.

And so we end up creating a noisy, showy, over-the-top place like Las Vegas.

Frankly, its over-indulgence and pretension is downright ridiculous. It’s a relentless, never-ending pissing contest of one-upmanship, for the Las Vegas of today will most certainly be downright pedestrian a decade from now. Indeed, the Las Vegas of yesteryear is cute and sleepy by today’s standards.

The modern-day version is impressive in its opulence, but its artificialness strikes me as shallow. World-class magicians astound people with illusions, but that’s not the only thing in Las Vegas that’s fake. Only in Vegas can you enjoy the view from a fake Eiffel Tower, float down fake rivers in fake Venetian gondolas, take pictures of fake antiquities from the ancient world, eat dinner under a fake star-studded sky, and watch a show starring fake women. (Also known as drag queens.) Even the hospitality can come off as disingenuous, merely a ploy to get you to part with more of your money.

Please bear in mind that I am not speaking at all of the people who live there, but rather of the postcard-friendly apects of the city that draw the tourists. I am picking on Vegas only because I was recently there for a speaking engagement. In fact, the examples of our race for bigger and better are actually widespread. Take Manhattan and Beverly Hills, to name a few. And at one time, The Small World ride at Disney World was an engaging, modern attraction. Today it is at best a nostalgic trip down memory lane, and at worst, a lame and boring fossil of a ride.

Where does it end?

It won’t.

Chasing the new, the fresh, the better-than-ever, is a quest that never ends. Like a sugar rush, it temporarily satisfies, but it doesn’t take long before the desire for more rages back stronger than ever.

In America, our houses are bigger, our cars are more luxurious, and our technology is more capable than ever before. And yet we are the most self-medicated and drug-addicted nation that has ever lived.

The night before my speaking gig, as I brushed my teeth and closed the curtains to block out the neon glow of the city below, an interesting thought passed through my mind: It may be the entertainment capital of the world, but my daughter could have her fill of fun just by jumping on the bed in the hotel room. A hotel room that Vegas would prefer you spend as little time in as possible.

Sigh…A Fat Elvis-sized reminder that kids have things figured out better than we ever will.

But not all is lost. There is still magic in small things. The truth is, the world’s greatest wonders are all around you, right now, wherever you are. You merely need childlike eyes to see them.

No ticket to Vegas required.

I think it’s because when I’m spending time with my kids, I don’t feel as productive as I do as when I’m working. I still choose family over work more often than not, but sometimes I look at the money and accomplishments my peers are collecting, and I wonder if I’m making the best use of my time, especially when we’re just sitting around doing “nothing.”

I used to feel pretty guilty about feeling this way, until a book called How Will You Measure Your Life? by Clayton Christensen shed some light on things.

He points out that it is our nature to unconsciously choose the things that give us an immediate, tangible accomplishment over something for which we aren’t likely to see a return for decades. With our work, it’s easier to see an immediate payoff to the efforts we put in, which makes us feel like we’ve actually accomplished something.

We can close a sale, finish a week’s worth of lesson plans, deliver a presentation, show one more house, publish a paper, or redesign our web site in less time than it takes to raise great kids or build an awesome marriage.

And the tiny choices — like staying a bit longer at work, taking calls from the office on the weekend, or leaving vacation days unused — don’t seem to negatively impact our relationships in the short run. After all, your spouse and children will still be there when you get home. Meanwhile, we justify these decisions by telling ourselves that we are doing them to better provide for our families, by helping to earn a raise, increase our savings, or solidify job security.

Danger, Will Robinson!

Like a leaky faucet in a clogged sink, those tiny choices really add up as the years go by. They gradually form a track record overflowing with evidence of where are true priorities lie.

This is why we see so many broken marriages and estranged relationships even though most people consider relationships to be the most important thing in their lives, ahead of money or career success.

This concept served as both a wake-up call and an affirmation for me. It woke me up to the power of tiny choices and my innate desire for immediate gratification, while affirming me in the decision to spend as much time as possible “doing nothing” with my kids, no matter how successful others may appear to be.

I may not be as “productive” as my peers, but in the long run, I will be a very rich man indeed.

Get a face tattoo.

Kidding.

When we get to the end of our lives, the things that seem to matter most are the scenes. The adventures we shared with our partners in crime. The inside jokes and games we played and memories we made with the people we love.

I’m not sure what it is about summer, but it seems to be the season most disposed to memory making and nostalgic reflection. Maybe it’s Bryan Adams‘ fault.

In any case, one should never let a summer go by without making sure it’s jammed with good memories. Curiously, I think we overestimate what’s required to make it happen.

For one, it doesn’t have to be overly organized. We used Facebook to ask people their favorite thing to do outside as a kid, and not one person mentioned anything about an organized sport. Which was interesting to me, as organized sports are often are the biggest culprit in creating summer clutter and busyness.

Secondly, money isn’t a major factor either. Although one might consider a trip to Disney World a slam dunk memory machine, it just isn’t so. Dave Ramsey asked his community about their best summertime memories, and Disney World wasn’t mentioned once.

In both discussions, things like climbing trees, family game and movie nights, playing freeze tag, homemade popsicles, swinging on a tire swing, exploring nature, building forts, catching tadpoles or fireflies, family bike rides, campouts and campfires, parades, fireworks, and day trips to lakes were the activities that made the list and resulted in lifelong memories.

Here’s the truth: The absolute BEST way to make your summer memorable is to spend a lot of quality time with the people you care about.

But keep in mind that five minutes of “quality” time often requires fifty minutes of “quantity” time.

The good news is that none of this requires a large quantity of moolah.

Sitting on the edge of Madison’s big lake with my husband and two kiddos.

Heavenly breeze.

Eating ice cream and giggling like school girls.

Savoring the magnificent display of colors reflecting everywhere.

Sounds of joy surrounding.

Happy kids.

Happy parents.

The enchantment of magic hour all around us.

It dawned on me…if I were given 24 hours to live, THIS is how I would like to spend my time.

But this isn’t my last 24 hours.

It’s nice to live your last day again…and again…and again.

What would your favorite last day be?

Too often, we judge the value or success of our day by the number of things we were able to cross off our to-do list. That’s sad, because life is more than crossing things off lists.

But I suppose that’s a short-sighted view. After all, it doesn’t take into account what’s actually ON said list.

This is the sort of list I can get behind.

I think we could all benefit from scheduling in a lot more singing and a bit more dizzy.

Source: stryker.tumblr.com

Parenting is chock full of “firsts.”

The cool thing is that you don’t have to be a parent to have a “first” with someone you care about.

What “first” can you have today?

Photo credit: Kim Kotecki

His chubby little cheeks, his adorable smell, his little gurgling noises — I am savoring them all.

This time is fleeting.

He’s already changing so much.

Rather than dread the loss of these amazing stages, I am choosing to love them up as much as I possibly can. If that means sitting on the couch for 20 minutes kissing his cheeks, than so be it. I will never regret that time spent.

What is fleeting in your life right now that needs some serious savoring?