Hakuna Matata

My two-year-old has recently taken a liking to the Disney hit “Hakuna Matata” from The Lion King.  In my opinion, this catchy tune ranks third on the list of all-time most fun Disney songs, right behind “Under the Sea” from The Little Mermaid (#2), and “Supercalifragilisticexpealidocious” from Mary Poppins (#1).

While all three will put a spring in your step or make a traffic jam more bearable, only Timon and Pumbaa’s silly song can bring you completely into the present moment, and make you momentarily forget your troubles.  As I belt out the lyrics, “It means no worries for the rest of your days…It’s our problem-free philosophy, Hakuna Matata…”, I can’t help from taking the advice of a meerkat and a warthog.   With all the negativity in the world right now, we are constantly being reminded of our worries.  The earthquake in Haiti, American troops in Iraq and Afghanistan, the economy, health care, climate change, crime, drug and alcohol abuse, poverty, unequal rights for gay Americans…need I say more?

Personally, I’ve always been a bit of a worrier.  I follow in the footsteps of my grandmother, who used to sit on the edge of her sofa, cigarette in one hand, other hand rubbing her kneecap in a nervous circle.  I’m not exactly sure what she was worried about, really, but it could have been anything.  I suppose it was her way of keeping her mind busy in her older age.  Even though Grammy died almost four years ago, I still miss her phone calls, which were sometimes made three times in one day inquiring about someone or something she was worried about.

Until I became a mom, I did everything in order, by the book.  Much like my inability to relax after dinner until the dishes are clean and the kitchen is in order, I couldn’t live without a plan.  I cooked only by following a recipe.  I successfully lost weight by tracking food points.  I made to-do lists every morning at work, checking off tasks as I completed them.  And if I did anything without a plan, a list or directions, I felt unfocused, confused and out of control.  And when those feelings hit, I worried.

Being a mother creates more worry than I could have ever imagined.  Late night fevers, children standing too close to the road, spaghetti sauced fingers heading straight for a ivory armchair…But it has also forced me to loosen up, let go of the rigidity and go with the flow.

When I was pregnant with my first child, I worried endlessly about going back to work in Boston, finding a new job on the Seacoast, or staying home with my baby.  I thought and talked endlessly about my predicament.  Although I worked for an established company with a good paycheck and great benefits, I couldn’t see how a two-hour commute each way and sometimes late nights would fit in with being a mother.  At the same time, I didn’t know how we’d survive without my income.

One summer night, as I sought the advice of family members over dinner, my step-father looked at me with a smile, and said simply, “You’ll figure it out when the time comes.  You always do.”  While part of me was flattered he thought so highly of my abilities to work out problems, the other half of me thought he was underestimating the enormity of my concern.  Didn’t he realize, this was bigger than anything else I had faced in my lifetime?  I was making a decision that would affect my entire family, including a little baby who would forever depend on my good decisions for her well-being.  How could he be so sure, I would “figure it out?”

As it turns out, I did figure it out, briefly.  Then when that didn’t work, I figured out something else.  When that started to fall apart, I figured out something else entirely.  Five years ago, sitting on the 15th floor of my high-rise office building waiting for my February due date, my plan never would have included being a prep school administrative assistant, a kids yoga instructor, or my newest role as a work-at-home writer.  But I’m happier than ever, and thrilled I can raise my children while feeding my passion for words.

I now know, there is no plan for motherhood, and children don’t come with instructions.  You simply must live in the present, be gracious and loving, and open your heart to the possibilities of tomorrow.

Of course, there are still things to worry about.  We live in a world full of danger, tragedy, uncertainty and fear.  But if gratitude and presence of mind are part of our every day lives, we can learn to appreciate the care-free attitude of Simba’s pals in The Lion King.

Today, as I glanced back at my son, happily dancing in his car seat while his favorite song repeated for the third time in a row, I smiled and took great pleasure in the words of the song, and in the innocence of that moment.  It’s not always easy to relax, let go and be present, especially with the challenges we face as women, parents, and citizens of this world.   But, as a mom, the greatest gift I can think to give my kids, is to keep them from worry, for as long as I can.

Hakuna Matata!

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