I don’t know how I do it all, but yes, it all gets done…
I’ve managed a career, kids, a husband, and a home for 30 years and still have no idea how…
If you do the same, give yourself a huge pat on the back.
2:05 p.m.: Wait for it. I’ve sat down to write for the first time in over a month. The dogs are going to need to go out RIGHT THIS SECOND.
Decaf Coffee: My husband’s apparently taking my sanity into his own hands these days.
Mood Music: None. Just the blissful sound of silence, and my keyboard. Dammit! I’d better go check on those dogs. A quiet boxer is not a good thing, like, ever.
Ah! Finally! Here I am in front of the computer! Crazy boxer accounted for.
I dropped out of yoga class a month ago just to have this time to write, and I haven’t written anything
The Mother Rogue’s first episode sits forlornly where I left it 2 months ago on Amazon’s Kindle Vela platform.
The Mother Rogue’s official website still waits for me on Wordpress.
Life’s been crazy. My life is always crazy.
Is your life crazy?
Are you like me?
It seems everyone in my family has spare time. Leisure time. Time to do whatever they want, or nothing.
Everyone BUT me.
I feel like I should know better, too. I should slow down. I should simplify. I should make time for myself. I mean, that’s what all those internet memes about self care say. That’s what my women’s magazines tell me. According to them I should be setting aside time to take a relaxing bath, or going to yoga class and turning off my phone for an hour. I should be releasing my inner trauma with somatic workouts and taking long walks alone, just enjoying the fresh air.
Ok, I do practice yoga every morning. Bathroom yoga. While I’m getting ready for work. Tadasana and Ardha Chandrasana - Mountain and Crescent Moon - in the shower. Utkatasana, Utkata Konasana, and Uttanasana (Chair, Goddess, Standing Forward Bend) while I’m drying my hair… I even work in some barre and Pilates, standing going up and down on tiptoe while I’m brushing my teeth and doing pelvic tilts while I put on my - very minimal - makeup.
…and I get in cardio…chasing a certain boxer around the house trying to retrieve whatever he’s just stolen off the counters (lately toilet paper), or crawling on the floor picking up the un-vacuumable pieces of chewed plastic from whatever squeaky toy or ball one of my 2 furkids has shredded.
When my husband isn’t working - his home office is right next to the kitchen - I work in some dusting and mopping. Bonus cardio!
I should probably be doing one of those now. My kitchen floor is a bit grimy.
No, I promised myself. Today I would write.
Oh wait! I have to schedule my son’s college transportation for the week!
No. It’ll wait 15 minutes.
Even my very flexible work from home schedule doesn’t let me catch a break. Well, ok, it does. That’s when I fold laundry, or answer my husband’s questions about whether the towels need to be run through the dryer a second time to make sure they’re dry. Or I call back a member of my son’s team: Division of Disabilities, Division of Vocational Services, college, his house manager, case coordinator, etc., who left me a message.
…and at 6:00 p.m. sharp during Monday - Friday, the fam decides in unison I need to stop working and the noise begins. My husband, who does the cooking, thankfully, calls “Dinner’s ready!”
No sooner does the dinner call stop echoing up the stairs than my son calls. The dogs then promptly decide it’s their turn and start barking at me, or turn my home office into a dog-jo (the dog wrestling equivalent of a dojo) until I stand up from my desk.
After talking to my son, letting the dogs out for a pre-dinner pee and poop, feeding said pups, and securing any saucepans and other dinner-making accouterments from counter-surfing canines, I finally sit down to eat myself.
So this is not in the approved Zen Mom memes list, but I do sit back and watch TV with everyone after dinner in the evenings. You think I’drelax then, right?
Not quite. That’s when I catch up with whatever work I was interrupted doing during the day by a husband wandering into my office to say “hi,” a Dane supermutt seeing a squirrel out a window and wanting to be let out to chase after it; my son’s care team, or my son himself calling, or a boxer nudging my elbow while I’m trying to schedule a meeting because there was an Amazon delivery.
I read. Snuggling up with a good book is definitely recommended by my women’s magazines.
Reading’s that thing I fall asleep doing 15 minutes after going to bed, unless I plan in advance to stay up late doing so and drink caffeine after 6:00 p.m.. I try to avoid the caffeine after 6, and the late night reading in general as I get older. 55 is not old, but it is definitely not 25, pull an all-nighter finishing a book and be spry the next morning, either.
What about weekends?
Errand days!
Grocery shopping!
House cleaning!
Meal prep!
Weekends are when I catch up on all those errands that I can never seem to get to during the week. Followed by house cleaning and, of course, grocery shopping, aka getting my steps in.
Actually housecleaning isn’t that bad. I spend my Saturday and Sunday mornings cleaning, until noon. Not 2 entire days. A year ago I forced myself to accept a certain amount of dust and disheveled for the sake of my sanity. The still copious amount of dirt and clutter I cannot ignore is on an every-other-week schedule.
And meal prep. I think I get some self-care meme credit for that. Meal prep is by necessity. I don’t do it, I end up eating whatever’s quick and easy for lunch during the week. My waistline reflects all those peanut butter sandwiches and tall glasses of milk grabbed on the fly in between client meetings and content deadlines.
Of course I usually forget I have food prepped and it goes bad by the time I remember. My job is actually sane and balanced busy, but it is busy. My days are packed. I also love what I do, so it’s not unusual for me to get so engrossed in doing it I forget to eat.
Arts and crafts are good, aren’t they?
I also set aside time every day to sew, quilt, scrapbook, or Cricut. Mostly on the weekends. I have a perpetual stack of unfinished sewing projects (UFPs) I work through around the dogs barking at my husband doing yardwork outside, or barking at the closed door to the basement where my husband is woodworking.
So when and on what planet are these “slow down”, “relax”, “breathe”, “make time for yourself” meme creators and publishers of this wisdom living on? Where is this mythical land where I can relax with a cup of coffee, or just go for a walk? How do I expand the days so I can find it?
Ok, I CAN relax with a cup of coffee…and an overly anxious boxer on my lap, knowing that if said boxer doesn’t get his lap time with HooMom he’ll start shedding whole dogs out of sheer nervousness, and only for 2 minutes until the next text comes in.
I can also just go for a walk - around the grocery store, the fabric store, Target, Marshalls, HomeGoods, JC Penny, Kohls, because my son needs new jeans or the dogs are out of their probiotics, the house needs a new mop, the blender died, or I broke another sewing machine needle. After about 15 minutes, though, my phone starts ringing. Somebody needs me.
So let me specify:
Where can I do these things alone and undisturbed? Also, if I do find this mythical place where my phone won’t ring at the checkout counter, or a Dane supermutt won’t start barking because her furbro is getting all the attention while my husband whirrs a chainsaw outside, what chaos will ensue while I’m gone?
I am also the insanely sticky silly putty that keeps everything running smoothly. I am the knower of the wifi password; the finder of the TV remote; the source of the sacred location of the vacuum cleaner; the maker of vet appointments.
I do have support…
A current spouse who makes coffee, does laundry (because the washer and dryer are right behind his home office and we try not to disturb each other when we’re working), does dishes (same reason), and cooks (nothing I eat is on his diet).
A fearless co-parent - my son’s father, aka my ex-husband) who can sign permission slips in my absence.
BUT
I worry, constantly, that if I step away for a minute and don’t handle things myself, the house will fall apart. The dog’s careful, necessary to maintain discipline schedule, will go to ruins. My son won’t get something he needs.
There is no magical meme or breathing exercise or magazine that alleviates that worry.
So no, I can’t slow down. I’m the person who makes everyone else’s leisure time possible.
If I do, I’m fairly certain the world will end.
…or I’ll just get a bajillion phone calls and texts asking where the clean dishes in the dishwasher go and who my son’s DDD case manager is.
Time to let the dogs out!
—CMR
2/18/2024
