Tuesday, July 31, 2007
It's not the heat...
A brief note that I am simply NOT built to live in this climate. I went for a run this morning -- checked the temperature before I left, a nice cool 73. Yahoo. Then opened the door to discover 94% humidity. It was like running through jello. Only warm, and not so tasty. Ugh.
Hearing Voices
My daily life is a cacaphony of noise. There is a constant stream of dialogue from my kids, a never-ending soundtrack of noisy toys and noisy play. So is it any wonder that I'm having a bit of trouble singling out the sound of my own voice in the midst of all this?
Not my outer voice -- I hear plenty of that. But the inner one, the one that guides you. The one that tells you who the heck you are and how to make something meaningful out of your life. I've been trying hard lately to listen for it, but it's just not piping up the way I'd like. I keep hoping for that Aha! moment when clarity is achieved and the way is clear. Life doesn't much seem to be like that, though.
I read recently about "Silent Retreats" where you go somewhere, usually a monastery or similar, and experience total silence. The article recommended two weeks (!!) for maximum benefit. I almost wept at the thought of multiple hours, let alone days or weeks, with no talking. What an amazing respite that would be.
Then again, it's a little scary to ponder what one might actually come up with when left alone with only one's own thoughts for an extended period of time. I'm sure it's not all sunshine and roses, but I'd hope that you would walk out the other side with a better sense of self.
We're headed on vacation soon, and part of the time will be spent at a tiny little camp on a lake in Maine. I've been going there my entire life, and find an inordinate amount of peace in early mornings sitting on the dock, looking out at the glassy water. This year, I plan to use those silent times to do some internal listening. Maybe I'll find that little voice.
Not my outer voice -- I hear plenty of that. But the inner one, the one that guides you. The one that tells you who the heck you are and how to make something meaningful out of your life. I've been trying hard lately to listen for it, but it's just not piping up the way I'd like. I keep hoping for that Aha! moment when clarity is achieved and the way is clear. Life doesn't much seem to be like that, though.
I read recently about "Silent Retreats" where you go somewhere, usually a monastery or similar, and experience total silence. The article recommended two weeks (!!) for maximum benefit. I almost wept at the thought of multiple hours, let alone days or weeks, with no talking. What an amazing respite that would be.
Then again, it's a little scary to ponder what one might actually come up with when left alone with only one's own thoughts for an extended period of time. I'm sure it's not all sunshine and roses, but I'd hope that you would walk out the other side with a better sense of self.
We're headed on vacation soon, and part of the time will be spent at a tiny little camp on a lake in Maine. I've been going there my entire life, and find an inordinate amount of peace in early mornings sitting on the dock, looking out at the glassy water. This year, I plan to use those silent times to do some internal listening. Maybe I'll find that little voice.
Monday, July 23, 2007
Little Sponges
I am reminded daily of what little sponges children are.
My son walked up to my clock radio a few weeks ago and said, "Cheeseburger, please. Thank you!"
Oh my. It had been a bit of a rough patch, and more meals than I care to admit were acquired via drive-thru windows. Who knew he was paying attention?
He got a good reaction, and continues to perform the trick from time to time. In fact, he's expanded his order. Apparently he has recognized my addiction to the flavored iced coffee at McDonalds, and yesterday expanded his order to, " Cheeseburger please. And Mommy coffees." Good to know that if I pass out while at the drive thru, he can carry on the ordering without me!
My son walked up to my clock radio a few weeks ago and said, "Cheeseburger, please. Thank you!"
Oh my. It had been a bit of a rough patch, and more meals than I care to admit were acquired via drive-thru windows. Who knew he was paying attention?
He got a good reaction, and continues to perform the trick from time to time. In fact, he's expanded his order. Apparently he has recognized my addiction to the flavored iced coffee at McDonalds, and yesterday expanded his order to, " Cheeseburger please. And Mommy coffees." Good to know that if I pass out while at the drive thru, he can carry on the ordering without me!
The Wall
There comes that moment in every day when it happens. I hit the wall and just cannot listen to one more whine, one more screech, one more anything. Fingernails on the chalkboard time.
I hit it late this afternoon at the playground about 5 blocks from our house. We had gone in the wagon because we were dropping dinner off at the house of a friend who recently had a baby on the way. The trip to the park worked like a charm, 'though pulling got decidedly more difficult when my daughter decided she needed to ride, too. It was definitely getting to be dinner time, I had no snacks, my son fell off the monkey bars (no serious injuries, thank God). Time to go. But son will not get in the wagon. In fact, he wants to PULL the wagon. By HIMSELF, thank you.
Fortunately, Daddy was able to come to the rescue in the family car. Dinner, 'though, was it's usual madness. I was now beyond the wall, and told my daughter that I'd had enough. She replied, seriously as can be, "But mommy, my rope hasn't reached its end yet." We cracked up, my sanity was somehow rescued, and the day ended on a happy note. I guess laughter really is the best medicine.
I hit it late this afternoon at the playground about 5 blocks from our house. We had gone in the wagon because we were dropping dinner off at the house of a friend who recently had a baby on the way. The trip to the park worked like a charm, 'though pulling got decidedly more difficult when my daughter decided she needed to ride, too. It was definitely getting to be dinner time, I had no snacks, my son fell off the monkey bars (no serious injuries, thank God). Time to go. But son will not get in the wagon. In fact, he wants to PULL the wagon. By HIMSELF, thank you.
Fortunately, Daddy was able to come to the rescue in the family car. Dinner, 'though, was it's usual madness. I was now beyond the wall, and told my daughter that I'd had enough. She replied, seriously as can be, "But mommy, my rope hasn't reached its end yet." We cracked up, my sanity was somehow rescued, and the day ended on a happy note. I guess laughter really is the best medicine.
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
I've got a little change in my pocket...
I made the trek to Capitol Hill to close out my credit union account. It was wonderful and surreal in so many ways. I got stuck in major traffic on the way in, a reminder of the hellish commute I no longer face. I met a friend for coffee and ran into a couple of former colleagues -- who didn't seem surprised at all to hear me say that, no, I didn't miss Hill life. I saw the relatively newly installed "bureaus" by each bank of elevators that contain "escape hoods" -- a not-so-subtle reminder of 9/11 and all that has followed. Very "welcome to your democracy." And on the way home, I had to bob and weave my way around town to evade presidential motorcade road closures. Have I mentioned that I don't miss the Hill?
I accomplished my mission, and walked out with a good chunk of cash in my pocket. What was most fun was knowing that it was "my" money. Since quitting work, I have learned to think of my husband's income as "our" money, and honestly, that's how we both treat it. But there is something troubling about not having an income of one's own. I will never forget the day I received my first Social Security statement with $0 listed as my earnings for the year. It's not like I don't work hard every day, I just don't have an income.
But now I have this little bit of cash. And I want to spend it on anything and everything! We recently started giving our daughter an allowance, and each week it's divied up into $2 to spend; $2 to save and $1 for church. I know that's basically what I should do with this, but the Land's End catalog just arrived and I could use some new songs for my iPod and there's always the Dollar Spot at Target calling my name... Jing-a-ling-a-ling!
I accomplished my mission, and walked out with a good chunk of cash in my pocket. What was most fun was knowing that it was "my" money. Since quitting work, I have learned to think of my husband's income as "our" money, and honestly, that's how we both treat it. But there is something troubling about not having an income of one's own. I will never forget the day I received my first Social Security statement with $0 listed as my earnings for the year. It's not like I don't work hard every day, I just don't have an income.
But now I have this little bit of cash. And I want to spend it on anything and everything! We recently started giving our daughter an allowance, and each week it's divied up into $2 to spend; $2 to save and $1 for church. I know that's basically what I should do with this, but the Land's End catalog just arrived and I could use some new songs for my iPod and there's always the Dollar Spot at Target calling my name... Jing-a-ling-a-ling!
Monday, July 16, 2007
Camp, Sweet Camp
Today was the first day of the kids' 3- week summer camp. My daughter goes 4 mornings a week, my son will go 2, starting tomorrow. I'm virtually giddy at the prospect of a few hours sans kids. I love them dearly and truly feel blessed to be able to stay at home with them but, damn, they can wear you out.
Even better, this camp ROCKS. My neighbor discovered it and we both signed up, even though the building is a bit shabby and we had no idea what it might be like. But they're doing great stuff. The theme for this session is "Walk Like an Egyptian," and they'll be learning about ancient Egypt, building 3-d pyramids, making mummies, etc. So much more interesting than the typical preschool summer camp fare. Yay!
I plan to fill my free time with such exciting things as venturing into my old workplace to close a credit union account that I was recently informed will be turned over to the DC government if I don't make some sort of transaction by mid-August. Um, hello?? It's not much money, but it's MY money, thankyouverymuch. Mommy needs a new pair of shoes!
Then, I just might come home and take a 2 hour nap. OK, I say that all the time and never really do it, what with the piles of laundry, dishes, unpaid bills, etc. vying for my attention. But it IS summer vacation after all...
Even better, this camp ROCKS. My neighbor discovered it and we both signed up, even though the building is a bit shabby and we had no idea what it might be like. But they're doing great stuff. The theme for this session is "Walk Like an Egyptian," and they'll be learning about ancient Egypt, building 3-d pyramids, making mummies, etc. So much more interesting than the typical preschool summer camp fare. Yay!
I plan to fill my free time with such exciting things as venturing into my old workplace to close a credit union account that I was recently informed will be turned over to the DC government if I don't make some sort of transaction by mid-August. Um, hello?? It's not much money, but it's MY money, thankyouverymuch. Mommy needs a new pair of shoes!
Then, I just might come home and take a 2 hour nap. OK, I say that all the time and never really do it, what with the piles of laundry, dishes, unpaid bills, etc. vying for my attention. But it IS summer vacation after all...
Saturday, July 7, 2007
Vacation
Five years into this motherhood thing, I've finally come to terms with the new realities of vacation. Gone are the days of sleeping late, wandering through cute shops, reading 5 books in a week and sipping foofy cocktails from dusk 'til dawn.
The new reality is doing most of the same things I always do, but away from the comforts and usual diversions of home. Sort of the mommy equivalent of the old Ginger Rogers did everything Fred Astaire did, only backwards and in high heels.
For years I was resentful. But I've come to appreciate the rhythms of vacation. I've learned to seek out (and demand if necessary) the quiet spots of time when the kids are being cared for by someone else and I can read 50 pages of a novel uninterrupted. I've learned to stop with the planning already and to more fully engage in the moment, knowing that for this week, somebody else is in charge of dinner.
And I'm reminded that the simple pleasures of a bucket and sand can do wonders for the soul.
The new reality is doing most of the same things I always do, but away from the comforts and usual diversions of home. Sort of the mommy equivalent of the old Ginger Rogers did everything Fred Astaire did, only backwards and in high heels.
For years I was resentful. But I've come to appreciate the rhythms of vacation. I've learned to seek out (and demand if necessary) the quiet spots of time when the kids are being cared for by someone else and I can read 50 pages of a novel uninterrupted. I've learned to stop with the planning already and to more fully engage in the moment, knowing that for this week, somebody else is in charge of dinner.
And I'm reminded that the simple pleasures of a bucket and sand can do wonders for the soul.
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