no pressure

It might be that I've listened to the Encanto song Surface Pressure approximately seven thousand times, (it's either playing on the speaker or playing in my head, thanks to Hank.)
Or it may be that Tucker came home talking about the marshmallow his science teacher drew his face on before she slipped inside a vacuum jar, the way it puffed up and then deflated once pressure was reintroduced.

It could be my own list, the things I feel like I should get done before I sit down to read a chapter or have a second cup of warm coffee, like my value lies in productivity over peace.

Who am I if I can't carry it all?

Anyway, I've been thinking about laboring under expectations (I mean, when I'm not thinking about the people of Ukraine, sweet mercy) and wondering how I might alleviate some of that for my boys. Instead of asking about homework or test scores, I've been trying to ask who they helped at school, or who helped them, about where they saw kindness or service, about what made them feel happy. 
I somehow ended up in a circle of moms who take time to text when their kids mention one of mine having done something friendly - maybe not remarkable but noteworthy nonetheless. And there is really nothing better than hearing your child has been nice. 

None of us can carry a drove of donkeys on our shoulders. And no matter the reverberating message, we shouldn't need to distinguish ourselves as the best across all activities. The boys know they don't have to be valedictorian or run the federal reserve, don't have to be first chair or top chef or student of the month. They just get to be. 

I do hope they'll offer others some small reprieve when they see an opportunity, and that the song in their ears will remind them to look for joy and relaxation.