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Stealing solitude: how to find a few moments of calm… 3

…in a busy, chaotic life.

Mcafee Knob, Virginia.
Creative Commons License 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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Addition to the “Things I Am Not” List Comments Off

So here’s an update from my radically-being-simplified, done-with-ditches, climbing-every-mountain life. Well, first I should give a little back story.

Let me ‘splain.

I turn 30 this year, in 2011. Yup. These are the last 6 months of me being in my twenties, and I know it’s silly, cliched, etc., etc., but this whole turning-30 thing seems like a big deal.
A big fat hairy deal.
Like, hey, Annie, if you haven’t accomplished XYZ by now, it just ain’t gonna happen.

Well.

I know, mentally, that is not entirely actually true.
But the large 30 leering at me has scared me into intense bouts of introspection, as in, even more introspection than usual. Which means, for me, a lot of introspection.

[It also might have something to do with the upcoming birth of our 4th child, which is scheduled to happen exactly 42 days before my birthday. Funny, I had wanted to be done with this whole childbearing business by 30, but our scheduling was a little off, and we thought having #4 NOW would be too much so we were going to wait a few years, have the last baby or two, and then, voila!, be done before I turned 35, which was a nice compromise I thought. Alas, birth control is obviously not our strong point. We are pregnant NOW. Baby #4 cometh, and he/she (we will find out TOMORROW) cometh NOW. Which means I have about 5 months left to figure out this birth control bidness... Anyway. Long tirade just to say that there's nothing like the upcoming birth of a child to get you thinking about what's important in life.]

Back to the Back Story:

I’ve long thought of myself one of those naturally organized people. (At times I hear that other people think this about me, too, to which I can only say Please please plzzzze don’t open the closet doors in my house. Or the laundry room door. Or, come to think of it, the bathroom door.)

Naturally organized, however, I AM resoundingly NOT.

Maybe it’s not me.
Maybe it’s my husband.
My daughter.
My son.
My other son.
My tendency to over-commit.
My attempts to cram a 30-hour-per-week freelance writing business into my life along with me, my husband, daughter, son #1, son #2, and various other (over-) commitments.

Mebbe, mebbe, mebbe…

Or maybe all these things are simply signs of the GLARINGLY OBVIOUS FACT that I am NOT, nor have I ever been, a naturally organized person.

Now, I am kind of logical. Analytical. Not really emotional, or at least not obviously so. I don’t usually freak out in moments of panic. I don’t tear up in moments of sorrow. (I wait until later, strangely inappropriate times. Like, why couldn’t I just cry when I was standing at the grave site, why am I crying NOW in the grocery store line?) I adore books. I hate, despise, detest, and abhor clutter. I like modernesque/contemporary/minimalist/streamlined style interior design & furniture & decor.

All of these attributes/traits/likes somehow, in my addled little unorganized brain, added up to me being a naturally organized person.

‘Cept, strangely enough, I couldn’t ever seem to carry my natural giftedness over into my real, unorganized life.

Like this:

  • I don’t have A junk drawer. I have a kitchen FULL of junk drawers. Maybe 2 of the drawers don’t actually qualify as junk drawers, leaving them the sole burden of functioning as regular, usable drawers. That’s a lot of pressure to put on 2 drawers, and I’m afraid they’re going to succumb soon, just give in and become junk drawers like the rest of the kitchen… It’s so hard to have a higher standard.
  • I don’t have a baby book, or for that matter an organized photo album, for any of my three children. I feel like this is some sort of parenting crime. I hope they won’t be scarred forever because they can’t flip through a book and look at their little footprints and little lock of hair (well there would be none in Mara’s case) and read all the cute little facts about their first little weeks of existence. I feel bad. Really. I do.
  • My favorite way to deal with papers (i.e., letters invitations bills magazines flyers coupons notes important-documents-like-birth-certificates invoices contracts tax-information etc.) is to place them in a stack on the nearest flat surface. When the stack gets too tall, I move it to a tall surface near a wall, so the stack can lean on the wall.

Eh. Lest you feel sorry for me, though, let me clarify that rather than being disappointed, sad, sorrowful, hurt, petulant, or bitter over discovering that I am not, after all, a naturally organized person, I am, in fact, relieved. That, or I am repressing the grief the better to deal with this life-altering trauma and next week I will end up crying in the grocery store line.

We’ll see.

That turned out to be a lot of back story. I’m going to have to save the update for tomorrow.

(Didja get that cliffhanger ending? All my writing books say to do that. Let me know if it works, k?)

Photo: Uwe Hermann.

Hey, I’m Talking to You Comments Off

I’m talking to you women who are going through the motions. You’re listless, confused, bored, frustrated, tired all the time. You seek distraction. You depend on your spouse or your kid or your dog to make you feel needed, seen, alive. Unfortunately, your spouse/kid/dog doesn’t always get it.

I’m talking to you women out there who have thought of a dozen new businesses, but started none of them. You’ve dreamed up new products, contemplated marketing ideas, started little projects… and never gone past the dreaming. You’ve always stuck at the starting line. It wears you down.

I’m talking to you women who feel stretched to the max, pushed and pulled and demanded and needed and wanting to be everything to everyone. But also, inside, you’re wanting to scream because you’ve pushed your own needs down for so long.

I’m talking to you.
Are you listening?

Are you wondering where you went?

Do you look back at photos of yourself and think, “Where did that girl go?” Do you stutter and mumble when people ask you what you’ve been doing lately? You mutter a boring answer like “oh, the job” or “oh, the house” or “oh, the kids” and then change the subject. Are you excited about anything in your life right now, or are you just tired? Kind of bored. Listless.

I don’t buy the boredom excuse.

The world is so full of a number of things… and so are you. You’re in there, stuffed way down near the back, crammed into a little wad behind “money worries” and “family obligations” and “taking care of other people” and “trying to get life figured out” and “large chunk of self-doubt I keep banging my shin on.” Yep. There you are. I see you. Hi! Go on. Give me a little wave.

We need to get you back out into the light.

Let’s talk about something inspiring, something fresh and energizing, something that awakens you… something like house cleaning. Yeah. That’s it.

Look, here’s the deal: some things aren’t a matter of choice or preference but of necessity. House cleaning is a great example. I don’t love it. It’s not a natural high. It’s not my fun activity for the weekend. (Is it yours, because if so, let’s work out a deal…). But it has to be done, for a number of reasons, so we do it. Sometimes finding yourself isn’t about what you do but about how you do it.
You still have a choice and personal expression in even the lowliest of tasks. There are three ingredients:
1. Attitude
2. How you do what you do.
3. Where you put the attention (yours and everyone else’s).

“There is choice involved in the very simplest form of creativity…” says Schaeffer, and then she goes on to say that those “‘if-only’ feelings can distort our personalities, and give us an obsession which can only lead to more and more dissatisfaction” (1).

Let’s take that housecleaning example a little bit further.

I’m not going to start preaching about the atmosphere of the home,

…the sanctity of what you do as a modern homemaker, the benefits for your children… though those issues certainly deserve thought and attention. But let’s just look at you. You live in a house. You don’t want to live in a dirty place. So you clean. You pick up your clothes, you wipe off a counter, you sweep the floor.

You can either do all those things (for yourself and for the other people living in your home) with a grudging, bitter, woe-is-me attitude that can’t wait to be getting to the important stuff in life or you can find a way to make the necessary duties less drudge, more lively. Schaeffer refers to this as “bringing the artistic into life” (2).

I’m not saying you have to don a lacy apron and make sweet love to the vacuum cleaner.

I’m saying get creative, even on the things that are daily ho-hums.

Like this: get your organizational powers to work and make up a cleaning schedule that is the most efficient thing anyone’s ever heard of. Figure out how to get your house sparkly in ten minutes a day. Or this: make your own aromatic, natural cleaning potions, if that’s what toots your horn. Use them to clean your own home, wow your friends with the non-toxic goodness, and start up a side business… Or this: Put on some loud, fast, fun music, your old grubby clothes, give all the kids a dust rag, and party like it’s 1999 while you clean. Or this: wear your Bluetooth and chat up your old friends while you wash dishes, wash windows, wash clothes. Or this: carry a trash bag and challenge yourself to declutter each space as you clean, week-by-week creating the simple, minimalist space you crave.

Why are we talking about housecleaning in a series that is supposed to be about rediscovering the you that got buried under all those cleaning supplies?

Because you have to start where you are.

I’m guessing that even though you feel like you want to run away from home some days, you have a commitment to staying. You love your husband. You love your children. You’re not going to run away, which means that you need to rediscover yourself in that home you have to clean, while you’re with those kids you need to care for, when you’re spending time with that husband who loves you, too.
If transforming your life can’t happen in the daily grime and grind, then it’s not real transformation; it’s just redecorating. We don’t want that. That’s a waste of time.

“We are all in danger of thinking, ‘Someday…’” (3).

Look at the obstacles which those we call great overcame to give action to their passion, their creative impulse. How many other greats are unknown, not for lack of talent, but because they settled down into and hid behind life’s circumstances? Maybe you are one of them. Great people refuse to be defined by situational constraints.

Not a single one of us is meant to live a mediocre life. Every one of us has the potential for greatness, for genius in some way or another. And the world needs all it can get. The vast majority never challenge themselves beyond a little circumscribed circle some person or culture or situation has drawn around them.

Are you one of those?

The vast majority live in unsatisfying, unfulfilling mediocrity due to lack of action. There are several key reasons why we often don’t take action, and we’re going to figure them out. Which statement rings true for you?
1. I don’t want to be, but I feel kind of stuck in the “if-only” attitude, simply because I just don’t see how it’s even possible to make time, space, energy, money or otherwise for anything else in my life.

2. I’m frustrated, unfulfilled but I’m busy with daily life and I don’t even know what I would do if I had the time. Hobbies? Interests? Did I ever have any of those?

3. I know what I want to do – it’s been bugging me for years now – and I know I could make it happen, somehow, but… I just don’t. I’m scared or lazy or uncertain or something, but I just can’t seem to build up enough momentum or even desire.

4. I’m doing what I’ve always wanted to do, living the dream you could say, but really? I’m disappointed and afraid to admit it. If this is “my thing” and I’m not excited about it, what else is there?

It’s time you blew away that smoke screen and figured out how to get back to the you that is excited about life. You don’t even need a pretty journal (but you can go buy one if you want to).

1. Schaeffer, Edith. The Hidden Art of Homemaking. Page 25, 33.
2. Schaeffer, Edith. Page 33.
3. Schaeffer, Edith. Page 33.

The Friction of Marriage 2

babmlogo1

Friction isn’t always a bad thing.

Two Kinds of Family Time

I grew up in a home of intense family time. Quality time together was what we loved; it was important, a key part of our family identity.

We had dinner together, went shopping together, watched movies together, ate out together. Sure, we had our own lives and activities and relationships, but the times of being together remained a hallmark of our family from the time I was little to the day I got married and moved out.

It was a great way to grow up. continue reading…

The Difference Between Me and a Clam 1

What’s Your Fatal Flaw?

(Not to be confused with the alternate title I considered, “How to Be a Femme Fatale.” Toooootally different.)

clams1an1

Why You Should Be Friends With Your Opposite

So my sister-in-law and I were talking today. We’re great friends, and we’re basically complete opposites. (Not surprising, perhaps, our husbands – the brothers – are also basically complete opposites.)

Our friendship has some great advantages. We help each other understand what our spouses are thinking. And we help each other understand what might (possibly, as if we could ever be irritating) irritate the living himini-jiminies out of our spouses. Plus we also just LIKE each other. And our daughters are best friends.

But I digress.

Transparency Vs. Clamshell-ency

My sister-in-law is a transparent person. If she feels it, you know it. I, on the other hand, am like a clam in a very tight shell. If I feel it, you will never know it unless I decide that I want you to know it and I will only decide that I want you to know it after I think about it. For a long, long time.

Both of our, er, communication styles have their good points. She’s honest. She doesn’t let an offense go unattended, so resentment doesn’t build up. And when she’s overwhelmed, she lets her husband know.
And me, well, I’m good at keeping confidences. I choose my words carefully, and thus it’s rare that I hurt someone’s feelings by what I say. Since I think before I speak, I usually calm myself down so I’m not super-emotional when I do talk.

Annie on the Halfshell

But then there are the bad points. I’ll just elaborate on my own: here’s the difference between me and a clam. When a clam gets an irritant in its tightly locked up little shell, it makes a beautiful pearl. When I get an irritant, I just get irritated. But I keep it stuffed in. I push it further down. I get more irritated. I get overwhelmed. I get upset. I talk myself out of being upset. Then I get more irritated, more overwhelmed, and more upset. By that time, the only thing I can do is talk, i.e., mutter half-sentences about “I’m just so tired….” and “But I don’t know what’s wrong….!” in between bouts of weeping.  Poor Joe.

My Fatal Flaw

My fatal flaw is that I’m not so good at communicating myself to others. I’m super at listening, but I’m also super at changing the subject when it comes around to what’s going on in my head and heart.

I’m not good at being vulnerable. I’m not good at just saying what is important to me. I despise asking for help.

“So I Told Him…”

My sister-in-law/opposite friend is the one who helped me discover my fatal flaw. No, she didn’t walk up and say, “Hey, clamshell, you need to talk more!” I just noticed something in our conversation, a repeated phrase: “So I told him,” “then I told him,” “after I told him…” and so on. You get it. She was talking to me about talking to her husband.

And that’s when I got it. Her husband knew every single thing about her because she (gasp) told him. He did not have to read her mind. He did not have to guess. She said, “I want.” She said, “I feel.” She said, “I need help.” She said, “I’m upset.” She said, “I’m happy.”

Talk about making your husband’s life easier! Meanwhile, here’s Joe, having to go read my blog to find out what I’m thinking about… (I love you, honey!)

The Hopeful Part

The first step is admitting you have a problem. After that, it’s not nearly as much of a problem as it used to be.

When I think about the times I’ve just been down, way way down, or the times when Joe and I have just felt like we were missing each other, I can pin almost all of them on a point when I didn’t communicate.

Now that I know what my tendency is, I can watch for it. It’s not always a bad thing, don’t get me wrong. Being able to listen and think has served me well in many instances. But when I’m unaware of how it can affect me, when it isolates me, when it undermines my relationships, then it is a bad thing. And that’s when I pull out my “Fatal-Flaw-Busting-Light-Saber” and do my little Darth Vader dance. (Minus the mask and asthmatic breathing.)

Find Your Fatal Flaw and Vanquish It!

Here’s a quick and easy way:
1. Grab your best friend. Chances are, you’re personality opposites.
2. What’s her “strongest” personality trait?
3. What’s the opposite of that?
4. Bingo! Your fatal flaw!
5. Now that you know, keep an eye on it. Use your light saber appropriately.

Original image courtesy of Mr TGT. Totally awesome photo editing job – all me.

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