Man, am I aggravated. I just spent 45 minutes typing my first post and then lost it in one hasty keystroke. I've since spent another 45 minutes trying to figure out how to get it back, with no luck. Lesson learned. I will now save my work more regularly... Arrgh.
Starting again, and still pissed because I was really proud of what I wrote... I hate to feel like hard work was in vain. Let's hope I can salvage some of what I had going.
Tonight will be the second night I have spent alone in my home in ten years. Andrew took the kids camping and I opted to stay here (with the dog and the chickens, so maybe I am not technically alone). The last time I was here by myself was August of 1998: I was about 6 months pregnant with Lydia, and Andrew went backpacking with friends. I think I spent the weekend washing baby clothes and puttering around in the nursery, getting ready to become a mom. I didn't even stop to think about when I might sleep alone in the house again. I'm sure I had no idea it would be a full decade. I'm don't know why this feels so significant, but for some reason it does.
In retrospect I realize that I am just unaccustomed to being by myself. And I wonder if I should worry because I am enjoying the solitude so much. Aren't we supposed to thrive on the company of our loved ones? Our spouses and children? And I do, really. I love my husband and children so much that it still amazes me that one heart can hold so much. I am still regularly taken by surprise when something unexpected and often indescribable brings on a rush of joy in these people who have transformed me from daughter/sister into wife/mother. But at times I truly ache for some time to myself, a little window (of more than an hour or two) where I don't feel answerable to anyone else. Time to be me, whoever I am.
I have at times pondered the fact that I have really never lived alone. I went from my parents' home to the girls' dorms of a New Hampshire prep school, to the sorority-style housing system of the college I attended, to the room I rented in the home of my first post-graduate employer, to the home where I worked as a nanny, into the apartment I shared with Andrew before we got married, and from there into the house we bought just after our first wedding anniversary. We've now lived here for almost 12 years. I wonder if this progression has left some gap in my development. Is living alone something we are supposed to do at some point, for some period of time? Is it something we need to learn how to do? It's certainly an unusual experience for me. I feel alternately at loose ends and a little bit manic, like there are so many things I could be doing in this precious time alone and I am unsure where to begin.
I must confess that I have not gotten nearly as much done as I hoped and intended to do. I did manage to deliver a carload of donations to the goodwill, do some laundry and pick up dog poop in the back yard. I also watched reruns on Food Network and TLC, and spent an afternoon with my sister getting a pedicure. Tomorrow my brief hiatus will end: Andrew and the kids will return home sometime in the afternoon. This coming week is the last full week before school starts: 5th grade for Lydia, Kindergarten for Evan, PTA President for me. With both kids in school five days a week, I do look forward to a little more time alone in the coming months. But it will come in small doses, with much to be accomplished in those valuable but fleeting moments.
The fact of the matter is that, for the foreseeable future, solitude will be in short supply. I am accountable to others, and that is what feels like normal to me. Maybe I need my family around to keep me on track. One of my excuses for not finishing (or even starting) tasks and projects is the nature of my life as a multi-tasking mom, but I've just realized that a lot of the days in which I seem to get the most done are those which are already super-busy. Maybe it's the same principle as getting the best gas mileage out of your car by maintaining your speed rather than constantly speeding up and slowing down. I think I might work under the same conditions: I may be most fuel-efficient at freeway speed.
This year will put this theory to the test. So I'd better buckle up and get ready for the ride!
Starting again, and still pissed because I was really proud of what I wrote... I hate to feel like hard work was in vain. Let's hope I can salvage some of what I had going.
Tonight will be the second night I have spent alone in my home in ten years. Andrew took the kids camping and I opted to stay here (with the dog and the chickens, so maybe I am not technically alone). The last time I was here by myself was August of 1998: I was about 6 months pregnant with Lydia, and Andrew went backpacking with friends. I think I spent the weekend washing baby clothes and puttering around in the nursery, getting ready to become a mom. I didn't even stop to think about when I might sleep alone in the house again. I'm sure I had no idea it would be a full decade. I'm don't know why this feels so significant, but for some reason it does.
In retrospect I realize that I am just unaccustomed to being by myself. And I wonder if I should worry because I am enjoying the solitude so much. Aren't we supposed to thrive on the company of our loved ones? Our spouses and children? And I do, really. I love my husband and children so much that it still amazes me that one heart can hold so much. I am still regularly taken by surprise when something unexpected and often indescribable brings on a rush of joy in these people who have transformed me from daughter/sister into wife/mother. But at times I truly ache for some time to myself, a little window (of more than an hour or two) where I don't feel answerable to anyone else. Time to be me, whoever I am.
I have at times pondered the fact that I have really never lived alone. I went from my parents' home to the girls' dorms of a New Hampshire prep school, to the sorority-style housing system of the college I attended, to the room I rented in the home of my first post-graduate employer, to the home where I worked as a nanny, into the apartment I shared with Andrew before we got married, and from there into the house we bought just after our first wedding anniversary. We've now lived here for almost 12 years. I wonder if this progression has left some gap in my development. Is living alone something we are supposed to do at some point, for some period of time? Is it something we need to learn how to do? It's certainly an unusual experience for me. I feel alternately at loose ends and a little bit manic, like there are so many things I could be doing in this precious time alone and I am unsure where to begin.
I must confess that I have not gotten nearly as much done as I hoped and intended to do. I did manage to deliver a carload of donations to the goodwill, do some laundry and pick up dog poop in the back yard. I also watched reruns on Food Network and TLC, and spent an afternoon with my sister getting a pedicure. Tomorrow my brief hiatus will end: Andrew and the kids will return home sometime in the afternoon. This coming week is the last full week before school starts: 5th grade for Lydia, Kindergarten for Evan, PTA President for me. With both kids in school five days a week, I do look forward to a little more time alone in the coming months. But it will come in small doses, with much to be accomplished in those valuable but fleeting moments.
The fact of the matter is that, for the foreseeable future, solitude will be in short supply. I am accountable to others, and that is what feels like normal to me. Maybe I need my family around to keep me on track. One of my excuses for not finishing (or even starting) tasks and projects is the nature of my life as a multi-tasking mom, but I've just realized that a lot of the days in which I seem to get the most done are those which are already super-busy. Maybe it's the same principle as getting the best gas mileage out of your car by maintaining your speed rather than constantly speeding up and slowing down. I think I might work under the same conditions: I may be most fuel-efficient at freeway speed.
This year will put this theory to the test. So I'd better buckle up and get ready for the ride!
1 comment:
Great job mom! I love your blog!
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