Calendars and planbooks hold the blueprints of our lives and the footprints of our attention. They hold accomplishments and tasks forgotten. It’s like they hold a life of their own and to toss them means tossing out the documentation of memories and accomplishments. 

For about 20 years, I had kept my old planners. From Lily Pulitzer to Erin Condren, and Emily Ley to generic teacher planners, these symbols of my life sat piled on my bookshelf and under my desk. 

I told myself I should keep this stack of memories because as proof of the events, milestones, anniversaries, graduations, weddings, birthdays, and life moments I had lived. I told myself I wanted to be able to reference these moments in the planner archives… But the more I thought about it, the more I realized I was just holding on to the past where my worth was measured by checklists, busyness, and perfection. 

Perhaps this epiphany was spurred by a Mel Robbins Podcast episode with Hoda Kotb I had just heard. Hoda tells listeners to look at our planners and look at our lives to discern our values and realign our focus. 

I decided to gather all of my planners from every nook and cranny of my house and pile them on my kitchen table. As I leafed through the stack, I noticed the college years were planned down to the minute so as to capitalize on every opportunity, both experiential and financial. Pages were filled with deadlines, goals for larger assignments, work shifts, second and third job to-dos, babysitting hours, appointments, meetings, events… My life was driven by perfect report cards and transcripts–but, interestingly enough, I reflected that I never competed or paid attention to my peers’ successes. I always worked with the intention to be my best self and earn the highest grade for me. 

School creates blueprints for us. We march through course catalogs and semesters and write paper after paper and cram hours in the library to get the A until graduation day with diploma in hand and not a job in sight despite the GPA and valedictorian status and suddenly… quietly… the blueprint disappears. The system that drew the blueprints is gone. We are left to hold the pencil and draft our life. The uncertainty and endless possibility is exciting, yes, but also can be stifling. 

I kept going. 

Planner after planner proved Hoda’s words. There were joyful, busy years of planning for the future followed by months of empty calendar boxes and crossed out plans that I was too weary from my life’s challenges and pain to fill or enjoy. But the proof was on the pages: life is cyclical and the pain eventually subsides as we march on to the joy that awaits if we allow it to fill our souls. 

I had seen enough. The 20 years worth of planners went into a giant black garbage bag. Out to the curb for pick up. 

I thought I would feel nagging regret, but I felt free and ready. Ready to feel lighter and walk intentionally into the next phase of life rather than trod under the weight of perfectionism, unmanageable checklists, and overfunctioning.

From this release came the brain space to start the blog that I have always thought of writing. While I’m not currently enrolled in a matriculating college path, I am in the midst of life as a working mom of two young children. My husband works a rotating schedule of shift work and together we are embarking on a major “new” home renovation project on a house built in 1888. 

What if the blueprints of life’s greatest masterpieces are planners filled with moments of joy and care for ourselves and others? 

Welcome to Spruceprints, a space dedicated to designing and sharing the joys of my life as a working mom who creates magic in the ordinary turned extraordinary moments. 

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