…in a busy, chaotic life.

photo credit:
asafantman
I am an introvert.
By that, I don’t mean that I find conversations painful, I hate parties, or I dislike people – all common myths about introverts. For the most part I like conversations, I adore parties, and I find people, if not always likeable, at least amusing. So there.
However, people drain the energy right out o’ me.
I don’t get an energy boost from parties; I get drained. Same thing with lots of conversation, interaction, and other people-oriented stuff. And here’s a funny thing no one ever told me about having kids:
the kids never go away.
Well, I guess (hypothetically) they do eventually – that whole growing up, moving out thing. But right now? Day to day? Since they can’t even drive, um, them going away is not an option. And me hiding in the closet? Though i’ve been known to resort to that (what? You haven’t? Riiiiight.), it’s not my first choice.
But I Need Solitude.
I need solitude, on a regular basis, like a duck needs a pond, a cupcake needs sprinkles, a foot needs a flipflop. Yes. THAT much. I kid you not.
And when I forget this about myself,
and dilly dally along with these tiniest and cutest of little people constantly following me around and yammering at me, I find myself, ehhm, how to say? Not-a-verrr-nice-Mommy. And definitely Not-a-verrr-nice-Wifey. The verrrr opposite in fact.
Which leads me directly to the conundrum which has, in turn, led to the creation of this whole tirade. In short, when you and your husband share one car (which, most days, he takes to work) and when you have four kids under four, one of whom finds your boobies to be a necessity of life every, oh, 2 hours or so, then: how do you get solitude?
Well, firstly, you redefine solitude.
Solitude no longer means “three hours of absolute quietness in a place where there is no one else.” Instead, solitude means something roughly along the lines of “at least five minutes of ability to mentally disengage from other people.”
Now we can work with that, can’t we?
Once you’ve got a definition that fits into real life, you can find a way to
steal some solitude.
1. Books on CD or loud music in the car.
Windows down also helps with the loud music. Hey, I like loud music (no, no, not so loud that it will hurt anybody’s ear drums, I’m not that evil).
2. Early morning time.
The best, personally, but also tough when you’re a bit sleep-deprived from the night-time nursing. But still, worth it. I’m actually a nicer person when I have less sleep if it means I get a little solitude.
3. Treadmill + head phones.
Best during nap time or when Joe’s home to handle kid-crisis moments.
4. Outside walks.
With or without kidlings along. I LOVE and ADORE long walks all by my lonesome, but don’t always have a way to fit them in. Sometimes I sneak off by myself once Joe is home at night, or on his day off (especially if it is spring or fall or even winter, not so especially when it is summer). But even with the kidlings, a nice walk outside gets me some moments of loosely defined solitude. The kids run ahead, skip around, catch cicadas, chase turtles, eat dandelions, stuff like that. I trail along behind and think little thoughts.
5. Long bath at night.
Look, I think every Mom knows this trick. Just don’t forget to lock the bathroom door.
6. Long shower. Anytime.
If baby is fed and happy in her crib, my older ones will do fine playing in their rooms while I have a shower. Or in the morning before Joe leaves. Whatevs.
7. Coffee break.
This isn’t one I take advantage of often, but I might have to change that. There’s a Starbucks and a Bread Co within a ten-minute drive; it’s easy enough for me to feed the baby, then slip out for a solitary coffee break whenever Joe’s here – early morning, his day off, evening, Sunday… There’s enough opportunity. And I can enjoy some quiet time and get back before next feeding.
8. Unpopular parks.
There’s a park with a nice little playground about 3 miles from our house, and there’s hardly ever another living soul there. It’s just a bit off the beaten path, I guess. Anyway, this counts as solitude; kids get busy playing, Lily hangs out in her seat by me, I sit on the bench and decompress.
9. Quiet time at home.
Room time, read all about it and make it part of your life. Or just quiet time: we do this for shorter periods (10 or 15 minutes, usually). Everybody has a quiet thing to do, and no talking for quiet time. You can be in the same room. It’s good for the kids, too, to learn to wait, to listen, to hold their thoughts for a while.
10. Nap time.
My kids all still nap, and they nap at the same time, which means I get from 1 – 2 hours in the afternoon. Lately, since Lily was born, I’ve been napping too (after feeding her). But too often I’ve used that time to scurry around and get things done instead of taking advantage of some quiet time to just be.
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