Dissonance

Winter break officially started yesterday afternoon, and I can feel myself in a state of dissonance, too scattered to focus on any one thing for very long. I am anxious for my family to come to town in a day or two and want my house to look festive, clean, and tidy. Not because it's expected but because I am more at ease when I'm not thinking about the unswept kitchen floor.

But my mind keeps wandering back to my last day of work, remembering the few loose ends I wasn't able to take care of and will be waiting when I return in two weeks.

Then there's the planning for these precious days we have off, even more precious because we have possible babysitters, meaning that we could potentially do some of those things that we can't afford to do with a sitter because they're too time consuming. But these activities have to be balanced by the time spent with those visiting. My time with them is precious, too.

But my children always pull me back to the present. Carter needs a cup of milk, a story to be read, a snack to be made. Cameron's ready for a nap, a new toy, to nurse. I am reminded that I can think and plan and worry all I want, but now is now. I need to pace myself and be present, pull my mind away from the past and future, into what's happening around me.

I need to ground myself and find my rhythm, synthesize everything that's in my head into a steady beat that moves me forward, not a cacophony that scatters and spins me.

So I sit here and write in an attempt to quiet my mind, perhaps even empty some of what is in it. Writing calms me and centers me, helps me sort through my thoughts and refocus on priorities. I feel less grinding of my gears already. I am able to think and see more clearly. Deep breath. Let the holidays begin.

Dust dust, sweep sweep

Today is a pensive day. I spend much of Friday at work getting lessons ready for the next week. I have lots of time at my desk to be productive, but the most productive thing I seem to do is think. After the tornado of a week I've had, I tend to drift into reflection. I open my computer to write a lesson and find myself posting here. It's becoming my therapy, my confessional. It feels like house-cleaning for my spirit. Recording my soul's struggles feels like dropping off a big load of stuff to Goodwill. It leaves me with more space and a twinge of virtuosity.

One of my favorite authors of the moment is Anne LaMott. She has written a variety of books, but my favorite work of hers is autobiographical. She is so honest and true to herself. She speaks of the dark parts of herself that I would be afraid to let anyone see. I saw her speak at a local bookstore recently, and I wondered how she doesn't just blush with the knowledge that everyone in the room knows about her (not-so-)secrets. It gives me courage to at least want to do the same. I'm not ready yet, but maybe one day. I try to justify it by thinking that it would be easier in a book when it's all lumped together, not strung out paragraph by paragraph in multiple entries.

Thoughts on marriage is one of those things I need to clean out of my soul closet. I think there is still this antiquated mentality that what goes on in your marriage should stay between the two of you. Admitting it's hard or that you have to work at it or that it not all daisies and roses is a sign of failure. Any sort of complaint is registered with the gossip police as "they're having problems," not, "they're totally normal and there's no news to report." Mark and I are fine. Fine as any other normal couple out there, but that doesn't mean there aren't hard parts.

For instance, I thought it was hard trying to share responsibilities with my sister when we were growing up. We'd fight over who had to clean the bathroom and whose turn it was to feed the dog. That was nothing. We had the higher powers of mom and dad to step in and mediate. They told us who had to do what and what would happen if we didn't. We'd fight about it and then it'd be over. Now there's none of that. Couples have to act all grown up and civilized. There's no one around telling us we'll lose TV for the week if we don't do our chores. We have no other motivator but ourselves to share the load and get things done. Because Mark and I don't see eye to eye on what chores are important to do when, we are constantly compromising and trying to accommodate the other person. Sometimes I just want to be four again and stomp my foot and throw a temper tantrum. Maybe we need to just call each other "poopy faces" and be done with it.

Another ponderance deep down is parenting. Of course you hear a million times that being a mom is the hardest thing you'll ever do. And yes, that's true, but not one bit in the way I thought it would be. I really don't mind the diaper changing and financial burden. I've felt pretty confident with decisions I've made that will affect Carter long-term like discipine and day care. The hard part is to not forget that part of myself that existed before Carter and before marriage. The responsibilities of home and husband and kid seem to push away that carefree part of me. I have always been great at making lists, being organized, getting things done. Being spontaneous and impulsive fit in the spaces between. But with more "grown-uppy" stuff in my life, that little kid's voice inside me gets harder to hear. I notice I have to make more of an effort to listen to that quiet, innocent voice. What came so naturally before requires more mindful attention and effort. It's finding that balance between enjoying the moment and and not feeling like my life is out of control (a messy house can do that to me.)

I think that might be enough mental house-cleaning for now. It wasn't anything major, certainly not a metaphorical couch or desk, just a few knick-knacks here and there that needed to be taken to Goodwill. Maybe it's one step farther in being true to myself and getting to know who I am as I evolve with life. I think I feel a little better now.