Loud music.
And 23 minutes on the dinner timer.
Means I have time to sit down at my computer for a moment.
Should I be with the rest of the family? Together in the other room. Enjoying the loud music, even louder in there.
I am torn. I can actually feel the internal pulling.
The I Shoulds: Family. I should be enjoying this time with them. Dancing. Goofing around. Singing to loud music. Taking in their smiles and their little bodies moving freely.
Against.
The I Wants: Time. Time is what I want. Time to form a complete thought and put it in perspective, maybe write about it. Time alone that isn’t in the car, on my way to work. Time that is mine. Without loud music. Or four other people having fun together in the other room. Wondering where I am. Or, knowing that I’m making dinner. In the kitchen. Where I belong at this time of day.
It’s frustrating and sad sometimes. My place. And not being completely comfortable with it. There is a reason I’m not dancing with them. It’s dinner time. I shoo them out of the kitchen. But, if I’m not actively cooking and instead awaiting a casserole’s last 20 minutes, am I expected to be with them? Do I expect myself to be with them?
I do.
I expect it. But sometimes I want to be alone just as much. And herein lies the guilt. An enemy of time, even stolen moments in a dark alcove.
I know that I am missing out on dance time with the family by sitting here in what used to be my office and now is the destination for so many things that don’t have a place in this house. This space that was mine is more shared now. I was selfish to claim it in the first place. There’s not room in this house for me to have a corner of it all to myself.
And there’s not time enough to enjoy it as fully as I want to.
Because here’s what it comes down to: Writing takes time. At this point in my life, it takes time away from something else, because there is no time to give. There are my children. My Sweetie. The life that I wanted. Wait. I need to say that again: The life that I wanted.
And this is the most difficult of balancing acts. Reconciling not only the Shoulds and the Wants but the Haves and the Wants. I have the life that I wanted. The love of my life. A family together. But I need to write, too. Writing balances me. It always has. I went far too long not writing when I first had children. I didn’t write daily. I didn’t think about writing daily. I misplaced my real self in a way, and at a crucial time. Because as I was losing my writing self I was becoming a mother.
For almost six years I have been becoming a mother. Living through enough mothering challenges that I get it. The life that I will live every day from the day my first child was born. Yes, giving birth made me a mother overnight. It made me a mother in the most profound way. But it has taken living as a mother for thousands of days for me to feel that I know myself again. That I can reconcile the “old” pre-mother me and the “new” me, who feels so so old and run down and unoriginal and starving for creativity. Now I find myself filled with thoughts that aren’t always about my children’s immediate needs but about my own wants. And I ask myself if it is frivolous to wish so fervently for a place for me. A time for me. And words. And cultivation that doesn’t have to do with active mothering but with enriching my inner life so that my mothering benefits, too.
But the Black Crowes sing on in the background. And I rush to finish typing, because the timer is going to go off in seconds. The casserole needs to come out of the oven. But the peas aren’t cooked yet. And I will have to squeeze out some time another day.
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This topic is rich. For me. For you. I think for mothers everywhere. This is what I know: that I cannot live my life by someone else’s guidelines, or things I assume are expected of me because I am “the mother” and this is my family and all of THIS comes with lots of SHOULDS.
I know that if I don’t take care of myself and carve out time that I need, I am false and I become useless. I have to nourish myself, my soul, my wants and MY needs. Life is not just about my family. Just about my kids. My husband. And my house. All of these things exist because of ME but I am not all of these things, I am ME. I am a woman that needs to find the time to do the things that make me ME, that help me feel WHOLE. And if I only get an hour in a week, I know that I at least made that hour a priority. I shut everyone else out and did what I wanted to do. For one hour. Because dammit, we cannot succumb to doing everything for everyone else.
If we are constantly striving to be the mother that we think we should be, or we think we are expected to be, then what kind of mother are we ACTUALLY being? Don’t we lose authenticity if we don’t also take care of ourselves?
I have no answers. But I know this is a rich topic. I don’t know a balance in my own life, but I do know that I’d rather be happy to be present in the day-to-day of my kids’ lives than just show up because I’m expected to be there, even though my mind is really somewhere else.
Then again, my kids could always use more of ME…and I feel guilt like everyone else…
There are no solid answers. But I hear and understand you. There is not enough time. We need more time. We need more freedom.
It’s like an ongoing series here, I think. All the same questions phrased a little bit differently. Coming to the surface for different reasons. The struggle for time morphs while the basic underlying reasons for the struggle remain the same. How do we all co-exist happily under one roof? Yikes.
We all get it. If not writing, it would be something else (for someone else) – music, or painting, or reading, or cycling. The pieces of ourselves we give up when we take on so much, even as that “much” expands and we revel in it, but it crowds out essential parts of our core.
And the guilt.
For wanting a “self” back.
For never feeling like enough is enough, when it comes to giving to our families.
And it’s more than enough.
Or expectations are askew.
And we reclaim pieces of self as we can, a bit at a time, as you’re doing. Any way we can. And know with each stage it will all be tossed into the air and have to be figured out again. Bits and pieces, and never enough to go around.
Eventually, it gets a little easier. Or maybe the guilt lessens. Or both.
How is it that you put this so eloquently?
It seems so simple when you present it like this.
And yet I think think think so much all the time time time that I don’t have time time time to think think think.
But I’m going to work on that reclaiming bit. I like the sound of it.
With life so out of balance in one direction for so long, I now find myself struggling with not putting it out of balance in a different direction. I also lost touch with who I was at the time I was becoming a mother, but I’m slowly getting back there. I see a difference in the way I spend my time and in the way my words look on the “page”. The guilt is there, but how much longer could I go on as a mom if I wasn’t taking the time to find me again?
It is important for us to find ourselves again. Part of the mothering process, I think, being able to not be mom every second of the day. I expect it will be ongoing and hope that everyone will benefit in the long run.
I think mommy writers guilt is going around lately, because this is the third post I have read about it. And yes, I feel the exact same way. Like right now, I should be at the front door, waiting for my kids to get home and ask them about their day, instead I am trying to get a few more minutes in of writing. Once my kids DO get home, I will have to balance the chores that I ignored for writing with their needs. But I do know this…when I do write, I am happy. And when I am happy, things go much smoother around here, even if the laundry does pile up a little! :)
Laundry schmaundry. Happiness is key. Thanks for reinforcing such a simple truth.
Sing it loud, girlfriend. We’re all singing the same chorus right there with you.
I feel enormous guilt when I sit at this computer. HUGE.
And after years of therapy, I’m not sure I’m any wiser about this topic than an anemone. But. I am getting better at making me stop when I feel the guilt and breathe, and say to myself, “I deserve a life, too. My inner life deserves attention–is WORTHY of attention.”
Sometimes I listen to that voice and sometimes I don’t. But I think it’s important that it’s there. Because if it wasn’t? I’d always be last. Always.
And always last=seething ball of resentment. *grrr*
So true, Jen and everyone. I have my writing tasks to accomplish everyday, but do I have my husband on my To Do list? Or my kids? I mean, I know I do what I’m supposed to do, but it’s not like the writing that feels urgent, somehow, like a commitment I made to myself. It would be so easy to only want to be one thing, like to only want to be a mom and a wife, but instead I have this thing burning inside me. For me to stop, the burning has to stop.
I’ve been trying to make it really simple for myself recently, and I just do it. I’ve been writing more – not just the blog type – in the past month than I have in years. I carve that time out at night, mostly. When hubby is at the gym, the kids are in bed, I take an hour and read or write or do something for me.
Because it’s completely necessary in maintaining any kind of sanity. And my husband knows this as well, which is a help.
I’ll jot things down during the day if I have a chance, or steal a few minutes for blogging while the kids are playing. But the catch is? My house is never clean, and we’re not terribly busy. We are able to have days where we don’t leave the house, or only get out for a few hours. We’re not on the go all the time… which I know will come later with school. But I know for me I need to keep that time for me, and am willing to give up a few things for that (mainly, keeping a clean home… ha!)
So in all that rambling, I guess I truly believe that something has to give in order to carve that time out for yourself. It’s finding what can slip, what can slide a bit.
I like that you use the word “simple.” Simple is a very challenging concept, and my kids are still young and unscheduled for the most part! I imagine it will get more difficult, but I’ll try my best to focus on simplicity where I can.
I wrote about this recently too. I think about it a lot. But I did have a bit of an epiphany in the midst of the writing of it:
http://www.extraordinary-ordinary.com/2010/03/insecure-blogger-and-her-train-of.html
(Now I have that itchy feeling of sharing my own post in the comments…but it was just too similar to NOT share ) :)
I hear you. I guess that’s what I’m saying.
Heather, Don’t feel itchy! This is a wonderful post, and I’m so glad you shared it. It’s true. Every word. And so many of us are right there with you. I find that while I struggle for time for me, I embrace tightly the world I have and I know, not so far back in my mind at all, that this is exactly where I’m supposed to be. That it isn’t forever. And that if I can just be patient with myself and my kids we’ll all grow together. But then, there are days of messes and stresses and I have to remember it all again!
Jen, I think that all too often we upset ourselves by wanting only what is necessary to fulfill our wanted responsibilities. We NEED some solitude, we need to find time for ourselves. We don’t get angry when our children or spouses do things on their own, yet, we expect ourselves to be “on” to mothering 24/7, 365 days a year.
How did we get so messed up that every when we carve out this necessary time and space, we are so overcome with guilt and what we think we should be doing that we end up not enjoying it?
I agree with Sarah. None of this would exist if I had not been there in it’s creation. It cannot continue to exist well if I am not at my best (or frankly, as close to best) as I can get.
Just thoughts and hugs for you!
I think you hit the nail on the head (I’ll have to use a cliche because I’ve got three seconds to type this before my son wakes up and my “me time” is over). It’s about “enriching my inner life so that my mothering benefits, too.” Yes! Take the time. Cook the peas, dance sometimes too, but take the time. For you.
Thanks, Stacia. Good use of your three seconds! I know what I have to do most days. But, there’s always wanting more. I guess I wouldn’t want to want less, though.
First of all, I’m insanely jealous that you wrote something so full and elegant in 23 minutes! It would’ve taken me hours to compose something like this, and I’ve thought about it, as I’ve also been struggling with the Shoulds and the Wants. Almost hating myself for the Wants. Wanting to write. Wanting to communicate via email. Wanting to wander around the house with my earbuds in, listening to my own stuff at just the right volume.
But then sometimes I give them every ounce of me, forsaking every last Want, and the day goes to sh*t anyway. Maybe I shoulda snuck in a Want… just one or two or three. I mean, if they’re gonna act that way regardless, why not?
Shoulda, woulda, coulda…
Wander around the house? Without tripping over something or someone? Unthinkable. But as the weather improves here, I’m getting big ideas about GOING FOR A WALK. Alone! Maybe even on a regular basis? Stop me. But I might try to fight the Shoulda, woulda, coulda. I might, just might, try the Conquer the Want. Because, as you say, THEY act as they act, these children. They can live with a little less mommy on some days.
Just like so many others, I know just how you feel. Just yesterday I had a couple of hours to myself, it was wonderful, but as the clock ticked by I felt anxious and desperate that my time was so quickly coming to an end. And then I felt guilt that I didn’t want it to end. I thought I should just be happy that I had any time to myself. It’s a never ending struggle, balancing their needs against our own. I don’t have any answers, I can only assure you that you are not alone in your sentiments.
Oh, I hate the anxiety of knowing the end is near. I think what would be remarkable would be a completely unemotional take on the whole issue of time. As in, I need it. I’m taking it. End of story. Likely? No. But something for me to think about.
Peach,
Here’s the view from the mountain of 62:
When you were one and two and three, before the advent of a little brother who, although the easiest of babies, complicated everything just that much more, you took a long, luscious nap every single afternoon. We would have lunch, watch PBS for half and hour, and then I’d switch to Days of Our Lives. As soon as you heard the intro song (engraved in my memory and, I would imagine yours, too), you’d grab your blanket and head for you bed. And then it was my time. to read. And read. And read.
Once your brother arrived, it was a little more difficult to carve out me-time, and once Sarah appeared – forget it. And yet, I was lucky to have children who played independently, and a husband who never quibbled with leftovers – again – or whether the laundry was done. I was lucky. And I wasn’t trying to work outside the home. That made all the difference.
Once I returned to work, it was a different story altogether. My job ate me up, you guys ate me up, your dad ate me up, and I felt like a raving lunatic sometimes. But then you all grew some more, and needed me less. I learned how to organize my time, and Dad learned to give me time when I needed it. The house was still a godawful mess half the time, but no one really cared. And I could lie on the couch for long hours and read if I felt like it, or garden, or play the piano or visit with friends. But not until you were all older. Much older.
This will happen for you, too. It will. And, until then, you need to keep moving schedules around and be very, very flexible, so you can find time to do even a bit of what feeds you so that sanity will not flee, and your soul is fed. It is important. No, it is necessary. It is your right as a person. Not as a mom, or a partner. A person. In her own right. Throw the guilt out the window, and grab the precious time while dinner cooks, and the rest of the family boogies in the living room. You’ll be better for it, and so will they.
xxoo
Thanks, Mom. Funny, I’ve heard this all before, but perhaps not since I had kids. Certainly not since I had the third.
I know my days will change. And I am not unhappy with the way they are now. But I must reflect, to be sure that I’m not underappreciating the little bodies now, because I know the days of little ones are numbered. That the days will change as the challenges change. And I know that by writing about how hard it is sometimes to know my place, I will ultimately be certain that I do know my place. And that I’m happy in it. And that when I need a change, I will reflect some more. On something else. Or, perhaps, the very same thing.
Yes, complete guilt about doing anything for ourselves. What is that? Why when you become a mom do you get that instant guilt?
I have guilt when I take time to read a blog or write a post during the day when one child is napping and the other one is happily playing. Yet I still have guilt. So I hear ya. But it is so important to take that time.
Otherwise we will be those moms that cling to their kids when they are older and not let them have a life.
Ooh, I so don’t want to be the mom that doesn’t let her kid have a life. This is an interesting connection/challenge. I honestly hadn’t made this leap; but now you have me thinking!
I love, love, love this post. And I love the responses. And I love your mom’s response. And I love that I no longer feel so alone.
I so remember being at the point in my life you are at – you and Sarah both or combined maybe. There was never time for me. I am now making up for that. I couldn’t carve the time out of air before – nothing there to carve. Now I take the time.
Enjoy the pull while it is there. It will go away eventually, I think. I still feel it but not as much as before. I am feeling it today as my “wants/needs” are conflicting with child “wants/needs.” The tug is not as hard as it has been in the past but it is still there.
I think its great you have time to cook dinner. I guess I must set the bar really low. OF course my kids are older and would much rather fix what they want to eat. We do fix alot of “Crock Pot” meals. That would give a little more family time right?
I had a comment to write. Thoughts to share. But as I was scrolling down through the other comments, my daughter, who was propped up on the couch beside me, somehow tumbled face first onto the couch and was now on her belly, burrowing her head into the seat cushion. I have no idea how she got like that or how long she’d be there… it happened sometime between when I started reading your post and the moment before I started typing this comment. And I think it couldn’t have happened at a more perfect time. This is my life now, as a mom. Trying to find time to read and to think and to write while there is this little person beside me. If I stare at her constantly, I won’t have any time to do these things that I love. But if I look away for too long, she’ll end up in a different place than where I left her.
I think I’ve found tomorrow’s blog post. :)
Needless to say, this resonated with me tremendously. So thanks for articulating what I haven’t found the time to say.
Oh the infant who tips over on the couch. I remember those days. It’s such a challenge to fit it all in–the mothering and the being. Enjoy these days while your baby is small and yet growing so rapidly. Soon she will be grabbing at the keyboard or wanting to play Curious George games on PBS.org! I digress… but thanks for your thoughts and encouragement. I look forward to reading more!
Oh the guilt. Damn. Even if we are all smart enough to know better it beats us sometimes. This post and these comments (especially from your Mom!) are like healing waters. The only other tidbit I would add is that our kids need to see us take care of ourselves in order to learn. They need to have fully realized parents who have lives that are satisfying and full. Our choices will mold them, so I try to remember that my choice to head out for a walk in the park may be painful to them in the short run – but the consistency of my walks, and my improved attitude upon return, will have an impact as well!
Such a thoughtful, resonant post and such a flurry of wise, moving comments. (Isn’t it nice to know that we’re not alone with our feelings? That we all get it?)
So I’ll just say that these words spoke to me tonight: “Because as I was losing my writing self I was becoming a mother. For almost six years I have been becoming a mother.” I love this meditation on identity, on the pieces of self that shrink and blossom while others do the reverse. The beauty, though, to me is that they’re all still there. All at once.
I don’t know that any of it ever ends. My first child was born when I was 30, my third when I was 39. From nursing through homeschooling, they sucked the life out of me till I turned 58. Last year.
Now my husband is talking about retiring at 62, which is about 18 months from now. Which means, 18 months is all I’ve got to re-discover myself and make a life for myself that will withstand his constant presence.
As you said, this is the life I wanted. Well, maybe the life I chose, not so much actively wanted as much as I knew it was best for them.
Some days it is hard to keep the resentment under wraps.
I am late. But I am here. Thankfully so. This piece is laced with awareness, bits of sadness, bits of guilt, pieces of reality. The problem with picking a place, and wanting a life, is that once we get to that place and live in the walls of that life, we are a tiny bit stuck. We have a role. We have people who expect things. And yet. There is part of us, inside, that continues to roam and wander and demand attention. And so. We carve out the fragments of time – between epiphanies and casseroles – to pay attention to the seeds of self that the winds of life, a good life, threaten to scatter.
This was tugging and true and very lovely.
You know what I notice that I do to myself? It’s this strange sort of creativity self-sabotage. Logically I do not feel guilty over wanting my own time and space. Logically. But I’ll make plans to escape the house for a few hours to sit quietly in the library and read, or poke around a store or whatever it is, and then when the time comes to leave I find myself dragging my feet. I’ll rinse off the dishes sitting in the sink or change the baby’s diaper or any number of little tasks that my husband, standing there waiting for me to leave, could easily do.
Yesterday, my coat on and my purse slung over one shoulder, I had taken the baby back from him to put her socks and shoes on before I left. “Just trying to make your life a little easier,” I said lamely, because I knew I was being ridiculous.
“Um, my life really isn’t that hard,” he said.
Well there. Straight from the husband’s mouth. If he’s so willing and able to step up and relieve me, and I WANT to go, why do I have such a hard time when it’s time to actually tear myself away? I don’t know. I know I’m so much better about it than I used to be, but I still have those days when I feel like I can’t go until every possible need at home has been anticipated and taken care of. And as all moms know, waiting for EVERY need to be taken care of means I’d never leave the house.
So, I hear you, and of course, there is nothing wrong with you wanting a slice of time for yourself, and of course, you absolutely can and should seize it and claim it. But know that even though I say and believe that, it’s not always so easy putting it into practice. It will get better. But sometimes I think this sense of permanent obligation will never go away.
I’m a new reader and wow, did I pick a doozie. This brought me to tears because it is like you crawled into my brain, my heart, my secrets and found out exactly what I’ve been thinking for the past five years. Something that I struggle with daily. Thank you for being the voice that I keep quiet. Maybe, by reading this and knowing that I am not unlike most mothers, I will begin to be okay with carving out a few minutes to myself. Or at least I will not feel guilty when I crave it.