but I take solace in the fact that this is
A Circle of Quiet, after all; plus I am confident that the pace will pick up soon. For some reason, though, I seem to have had very little to say. (*shock*gasp*) I think the rapid pace of the summer has caught up with me at last.
When our schedule fills up with visiting and adventure, the need for some alone time grabs me a lot faster than it does with other members of our family. As the mother and frequent chauffeur, I often have to put aside my need to be alone, but there comes a point when I just.have.to.stop. I have been ignoring the nudging of reality for several days, but it became clear this weekend that I had reached the stopping point.
Saturday night I sat in the front driveway after everyone started drifting to bed. I held my head in my hands, not even trying to see the showcase of star activity that was promised. I listened intently to the automatic hoses turning on, the spurt....spurt.....spurt of the water escaping around and down and across and up the gardens. I could hear the chirping of crickets, the far away neighbor dog doing its regular howl session, and the sounds of the night travelers on the highway over the hill . It was good to sit and wait for coherent thoughts to come. I'll be honest -- I would have had to wait a long time for truly coherent thoughts, but I was soothed by doing nothing. Eventually, our little cat Nutmeg saw me with her keen night vision and came running across the gravel driveway to visit me. All I could hear were her paws on the gravel, and her squeaky meow of urgent greeting. She came into view and leaped into my lap for a nice snuggle.
Anyone who has read here for very long knows that I love my family. There are times, though, when I get mentally and emotionally overloaded, when the quiet seems permanently elusive, when the demands seem to exceed my own sanity. It is then that I long for a snatch of time when no one needs anything. These times of needing (as in clawing for) quiet are becoming more frequent, and that concerns me. Why is it such a felt need right now? What has changed to cause these waves of "give me my space" to come faster and stronger?
I realize that four things have happened in the last few years to propel me out of my happy little rut, thus requiring me to establish new routines or, heaven forbid, to become more flexible.
First, my mother moved to our granny flat. Don't get me wrong: my mom babysits, she folds laundry, she visits with children who have stories to tell, she laughs with me about things no one else finds funny; I cannot begin to express how much I value my shared life with her. BUT (you knew that was coming, didn't you?) I am her transportation. She gets fidgety if she doesn't get out often enough. She comes over to talk when I would normally be accomplishing things. She has needs and I am the one to meet them. I am very confident that I will not regret the time and energy invested, but it stretches me. Often. Daily.
Secondly, I'm almost forty-seven and my hormones are jumping their long-travelled track for new vistas. It is making life, shall we say, exciting? Unpredictable? Volatile? It stretches me. Often. Multiple times a month. And it stretches my family, which I like even less than being personally stretched.
Thirdly, my weekly housekeeper/friend retired. I cried when she told me she was retiring; that may sound silly, but I have a hard time inviting just anyone in to my home, especially to clean. This friend was affordable, she worked in and about and around our schooling and was a pleasure to have clean our house. I have not found anyone to replace her, and it has been at least two years since she moved. We've kept up with the surface dirt and tried to keep with the clutter, but the layers of grime are getting me down. I cannot get it all done, and that stretches me. Just admitting my limitations stretches me, let alone the reality of living with dirt I wish someone else would clean.
Finally, we have had to make some major changes in our eating habits, thanks to food allergies in one of my sons and a constant string of annoying, "Why can't my immune system fight this?" kind of illnesses. That means I am not making my six zillion meals and freezing them right now. I haven't figured out recipes that will work for freezing that don't have any packaged, canned, pre-made ingredients. I know they are there, but I haven't had the time to find them and try them out on my family. I
will take time next week to cook up a bunch of chicken, turkey, rice, and beans. I'll buy cheese in bulk, grate it and freeze it for easy use. I'll have a bunch of wheat and spelt bread made and in the freezer, and I will make batches of spaghetti sauce to freeze for homemade pizza and calzones. There's hope, but it's a new routine. Are you getting the idea that change is tiring for me?
Burn-out, or whatever you call what I have flirted with these last three years, is a tricky thing. Like grief, it is not a linear, predictable experience. It is also highly personal. While there is good advice that everyone should take -- see a doctor for a regular check-up, get some regular exercise and sleep and drink plenty of water, figure out what is bugging you and find a way to solve it, dump your pride and ask for help when you need it -- sanity can still be elusive. It is not a "just do this and you won't feel that way again" kind of problem. This was a good school year, and I did not feel pulled too far too often. This week, however, I find myself weary again. Why? Perhaps too much fun, not enough time to think, too many piles weighing me down.
When I find myself murky minded, once again, there are things I have to do to restore myself. I set the alarm and get up early. I have to submit to the fact that thinking, staring, wrestling with the scriptures and praying are most easily done early in the morning. Water, water, water becomes my best friend; it is amazing what the simple act of staying hydrated can do to my ability to think clearly. This week I am doing a curriculum fair to get rid of the piles of materials I will never use, and this week-end I am doing a garage sale to get rid of the rest of the clutter worth selling. The dump will get a visit, and then we can all work together to make our house work more efficiently. Part of the issue is that everyone is getting much bigger (at least three children have grown several inches in the last couple of months) and our house is not getting any bigger. We are having to clear out anything that just takes up space so that we can maximize efficiency. All of this is hard work, made harder by my lethargy, but every box that leaves the house, every space cleaned out, every phone call to get a house or carpet cleaning person in, just eases the burden that much more. I plan to get eight hours of sleep every night, work super hard every day, and see if by Labor Day week-end I can see some light at the end of my muddled tunnel. Online classes start for my family on the 28th of August, and the rest of our new subjects will begin on the 5th of September, so time is of the essence.
Writing is always an important thing for me, either here or elsewhere. When my head gets muddled, my inability to write makes things harder. Just getting some of this blah-blah-blah out here tonight is helping me to make sense of what I need to do, so thank you for reading through my self-examination. I have been reading, listening, watching and enjoying many things, so hopefully I will have the clear-headedness to share those gems with you all soon.
Here's to the light at the end of the tunnel!!!
