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Snowzilla? S’No Fun.

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The Moms live on the Eastern Seaboard and got to experience the record-setting Snowzilla blizzard a few weeks back. Introverts love staying home, right? What could go wrong? Read on …

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Snowzilla: A Multimedia Presentation

Or, How Introvert Paradise Turned Into Introvert Hell

Day 1

No school! No school! No snow on the ground? Whatever. I’ll take it.

Big storm hits tomorrow around noon. I’d better start thinking about stocking up. But the store will be crazy! I’ll go tomorrow. With the kids. Even though that’s my idea of the tenth circle of Hell.

Day 2

Wake up!  Get going! Only four hours until The Storm Hits.

This song is playing on an endless loop in my head.

Play Doh. Check. Monster High doll. Check. Milk flashlight eggs batteries blah blah blah. Check.

Korean fried chicken. Check. Booze. Checkedy check.

OMG you guys it’s snowing! Right on schedule. This is going to be SO FUN.

Hey friends! C’mon in! Let’s have some pizza and drinks. FUN.

Day 3

Look at how pretty it is! And how still everything it is outside. I am staying in my pajamas all day.

Sure, you can watch “Wreck It Ralph.” I love that Sarah Silverman.

Putter putter putter putting stuff away feels fantastic. Being shut inside is Introvert Paradise.

Who’s hungry for lunch? Grilled cheese, soup, veggies, hot cocoa!

Family time is incredible. We’re talking to each other and laughing and I love them so so so much.

Happy hour starts at 5. Oh, ok. 4:30.

Day 4

It is STILL snowing. And it’s gorgeous. White and pristine and gorgeous. Snowy snow snow.

It’s 9:30 a.m. I am going to take a bubble bath. Just because I can.

You two are watching “Wreck It Ralph” again? John C. Reilly really does a great job in this, doesn’t he?

Snacks? Sure! How about popcorn and warm apple cider? Perfect blizzard food.

I’d better do some laundry. It’s starting to pile up.

Happy hour at 4:30. Who’s in?

Day 5

Today is Cleaning Day! I’ve got bleach and a toothbrush and I am NOT afraid to use them, people.

Dust scrub vacuum mop …. where did all this … grime … come from? We are disgusting.

You’re hungry? Here is some cheese and crackers and an apple.

Where did all this laundry come from? I’ve been wearing the same clothes for three days. Stop changing clothes every twenty minutes!

Was that the plow?  Awesome! Oh, wait. Dreamy just shoveled the driveway and it is now filled up with a gazillion feet of snow again.

Anyone want to play “Uno”? “Go Fish”? No? You want to watch “Wreck It Ralph”? Fine but this is the LAST TIME.

Is it 4:30 yet? Because I’m not having much fun right now.

Day 6

No I am not making pancakes today; we had that for dinner last night. Eggs and toast for everyone!

What are we doing today? I don’t know. What day even is it?

If you guys don’t let me use the bathroom by myself someone is going to get hurt.

Why are you hungry? You JUST ATE.

See this door? I am closing it for a reason.

It’s only 2:00. Dammit. Two and a half hours to go.

Oh, Hell. Two hours.

Day 7

Wait, what? You’re going to work? You’re leaving?? Don’t go, Dreamy. PLEASE DON’T GO.

If I hear Silverman’s screechy screech nails-on-a-chalkboard squawk one more time I am going to LOSE IT.

Anyone for a play date? Anyone?

Here’s your lunch. Turkey, bread, and some chips. You don’t like it? Make it your own damn self.

What day is it?

#$(&. 11 a.m.

Day 8

WHERE ARE ALL THESE DIRTY CLOTHES COMING FROM?????

Day 9

I don’t remember anything before this blizzard except that I hate snow and I never want to see any again. Ever.

How does one put on mascara? Oh, right.

A screwdriver. Is it too early for a screwdriver?

Stop talking to me. Stop. Talking. Right now.

Day 10

#($*ing snow. I hate it.

That’s it. I am done with you people. ALL OF YOU.

I need OUT. NOW. Preferably by myself. And I might not come back.

— Tiffany

 

KathyHere’s how snow days usually go at my house: iDad and I try to fit in a couple hours of work apiece, usually with a side of baking/sledding/movie time with Doodlebug. I know we’re lucky to work from home—no scrambling for alternative child care or commuting in bad weather. Honestly, though, it’s still complicated, especially if it’s a big storm and Doodlebug is off school for more than a couple of days. Between juggling schedules and the hit to my quiet time, I end up frustrated and cranky.

Here’s how snow days went during Snowzilla: iDad left for a conference in California before the storm hit and was stranded there until flights got back on schedule. I was on my own with Doodlebug for a week, a week which included only one day of school. I accomplished . . . nothing. Other than surviving.

And I actually did enjoy large parts of it. Doodlebug and I watched movies, listened to audiobooks, and got hooked on “Kids Baking Championship.” I started reading her The Long Winter, one of my favorite Laura Ingalls Wilder books. She scaled snow piles and had a couple playdates with Princess Slim. I only had a few episodes of sobbing alone in my room. (Seven days of solo parenting is a LONG time, you guys. My winter hat is off to single parents.)

The whole thing was a reminder that snow days are an excuse to slow down, to blow off that to-do list, to just hang out with my family. So it was a good lesson, right?

Yes and no. I wasn’t exactly in need of a vacation—the whole thing went down a mere two weeks after our winter break, so I had barely gotten back into a writing groove when the weather gods cruelly snatched it away. I knew that things would be tough enough with iDad gone, so I didn’t even try to fit in writing time. The good news is that I didn’t feel pulled toward my office like I usually do during a long stretch of snow days. But I feel like I lost more than just work time.

Writing is special kind of quiet time for me. It lets me create stories in my head, play with new ideas, make connections, and stretch my mental muscles. And I know, from many attempts to do otherwise, that I can’t knock out a chapter or a blog post in a hurry while Doodlebug is momentarily distracted. That makes me more frazzled, not less. So even though we did plenty of quiet things during those seven days, they didn’t fill me up the same way filling a page with words does.

Was ignoring my writing the right approach for this storm? Definitely. But if we have any more multi-day snow events this winter (please no), that strategy won’t fly. Here’s what I will try—treating the first snow day as pure vacation and then playing the work-life balance game for the rest of the time.

The happy ending to this story is that iDad got home safely, we dug out, and school started again eventually. My reward: a long weekend to myself while Doodlebug and iDad went skiing with his parents. Lots of writing, no sobbing, and NO SNOW!

— Kathy

 

 

 

Alone Together (Or Not)

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Normally Kathy and I “write blind” – that is, we select a topic, write our pieces, and then compare notes. For this post, however, I read hers first. And I am so glad I did because our perspectives could not be more different.

With two small people the challenges of keeping them both happy multiply. Don’t get me wrong, there are times when I’m doing a puzzle with Lunchbox and Slim is playing in her room, or when Slim and I are working on her homework and Lunchbox is playing on his iPad or goofing off with Dreamy. These bursts of relative contentment last only as long as someone’s good mood, unfortunately, and Dreamy and I constantly drift back and forth between the two kids. Thus we don’t have the same type of togetherness as what Kathy describes; ours is more fluid and free-flowing.

Together time can be better managed by splitting up – a way for parent and child to bond without completely wiping out said parent’s energy. While not ideal, it is a good strategy for some activities and errands. Dreamy will take Slim to a Girl Scout event, for example, while Lunchbox and I go to the park or to get the groceries. They each get a parent to themselves (win!) and this sort of concentrated one-on-one time works best with my introversion (win!). Plus, sometimes I find it overwhelming doing things as a foursome given the age, gender, and temperament differences between Slim and Lunchbox (and shoot, let’s be real here, sometimes between Dreamy and me).  But that’s a subject for another post.

The idea of “alone together” time is lovely in theory but in practice it often doesn’t work at my house. Sometimes, though, particularly with Slim, we can pull this off, such as cuddling in bed at night, each engrossed in our own books. And I as I write this, Lunchbox is jamming away on the Wii. So even though the Mario Kart music is blasting in my ear, he’s happily in his own universe while I’m toodling along in mine.   

This gives me hope for the future.  As Slim careens towards the Tween Years, I want for us to do things together, to have a shared interest. We both like baking and maybe a cake decorating class is in our future. Same goes for Lunchbox – he and I can resume our mini-nature hikes in the spring if he decides to begin wearing pants on the regular.

Until then we shall muddle through. With earplugs, because I really hate Mario Kart.

 

The Paradox of Summer

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August is almost over and that means the end of summer.  We’ve got some thoughts on guilt, meltdowns, and how our months off might look different next year.

KathySummer Guilt, 2015 Edition

There is no question that Doodlebug learns something important every summer at camp. I don’t mean things like facts about rocks or a new art technique. I mean something about Life. One year, it was that new things are always easier with a friend. Last year, it was that sometimes you have to try new things on your own, but that you’ll survive and maybe even have fun.

This year, she learned that things sometimes look good on paper but turn out to be boring in real life. Also that some kids are just mean.

So yeah, camp didn’t go so well this time around. It didn’t help that iDad and I knew Doodlebug would much rather be home, doing Minecraft or reading or playing with Shopkins. Or, you know, spending time with us. Nothing like a tearful conversation about why parents still have to work all summer to make you question your priorities.

And part of me says, look, we do still have to work. She’s old enough to get that. We did all kinds of things together this summer. Two weeks of half-day camps—thirty hours out of an eleven-week summer—is not cruel and unusual. Yes, she had some rocky moments, but she made it through and I’m proud of her.

Another part of me says, yeah, but it’s camp. You always hated it yourself. Remember Vacation Bible School? Remember the Girl Scout day camp? <shudder> I’m an introvert raising an introvert. I know that camp might turn out to be fun, or it might be a giant drain on your energy tank. That’s the opposite of what summer is for.

So this, I’ve concluded, is the paradox of summer: I feel like I can only gain time for myself by taking it away from Doodlebug. The two weeks of camp were great for iDad and me. We both got much more done without having to scramble around and cover each other’s work time. I felt like I could think straight again after being pulled in a million different directions for weeks. It was a good feeling. But it came at the price of an unhappy kid. Why hello, guilt. So nice of you to join us.

I never feel guilty about sending her to school, just like I never felt guilty about putting her down for a nap when she was two—those are things that have to happen. Learning and sleeping are her jobs, jobs that just happen to come with a side of alone time for me. But camp is different. Camp is optional, and so who is it for? Her, or me? And if it’s for me, is that okay? My head says yes, my heart says no.

So next year, we’ll see. Maybe we’ll try going camp-free, and maybe she can have some sort of long-term summer project to give us some structure. You know I love structure. I’m sure we’ll be able to figure this all out before she turns 18 . . . right?

— Kathy

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Mega Monster Meltdown

Or, the Afternoon I Wished Parenting Weren’t One of My Core Personal Projects

“We’ve all been there,” she said, looking at me with sympathetic eyes. I muttered something like “Thanks” or “Do you want him?” as I walked by her, struggling to contain Lunchbox.

What started as a small disagreement had escalated to a meltdown; I calmly told him it was time to leave the pool. He lost it and suddenly we were at DEFCON 2 in terms of his behavior.  I slung him over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes while he kicked and screamed “Nooooooooooooo!!” at the top of his lungs. I was mortified. All eyes were on us as we trudged toward the exit.

After fighting to buckle him into his carseat, I turned on the car and took a deep breath. My hands were shaking and I felt like barfing. This was my worst fear — that my first summer with the kids would be filled with these types of episodes. Could I handle them? What would I do if I lost my temper completely and did something I’d regret? I knew the tantrum would eventually fizzle out and that a cocktail (or four) would help calm me down, but what, if anything, could or should I do to prevent this type of situation? Both Slim and Lunchbox had had their moments, but this was one, if not THE, worst one yet.

Developing a strategy for my first Teacher Mom Summer (TMS) had taken some time. Dreamy and I decided not to enroll the kids in any camps, hoping to save money, and I wanted them to sleep late, eat breakfast in their pjs, and, in general, be lazy. I asked Slim and Lunchbox about things they’d like to do and we came up with a list. We’d do one Big Thing each week (a movie, a museum trip, Lunch with Daddy) and divide up the the rest of the days with visits to the pool, the park, and play dates. Chore and Screen Time would be worked in as well.

This worked for a few weeks. The routine was nice but interrupted by some bigger projects I had hoped to accomplish during the break (such as cleaning, redecorating, and organizing Slim’s “Hoarders” episode-ready room). The kids were frustrated and acted out accordingly; I felt guilty and selfish for not making our plans a priority.

So, old conflict, new circumstances: where’s the line between your own goals and Mom responsibilities? Crossing things off my To Do list helps me feel accomplished, and usually my projects provide much-needed time to myself as well. In an effort to recalibrate I tried working on my stuff in the mornings and doing our planned activities in the afternoon. The result? Progress on Slim’s room slowed and both of them spent waaaay too much time staring at screens. I don’t have an answer but am thinking that my TMS flow will take time to evolve, much like my school-life flow (see my previous post).

As we hurtle towards a new school year, I already know next summer will look a bit different: one or two camps per kid; two or three dedicated afternoons to myself each week; and perhaps better expectations management on my part. Maybe such a plan will help us avoid mega monster meltdowns and me wishing for an extended and semi-permanent break from motherhood.

Thoughts please, fellow Introverted Moms!

— Tiffany

Change Is a Doubled-Edged Sword

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Yes, it’s me. The alleged co-author of this blog. I am mindful that this will be my second “Where Have I Been” post; please note it will be my last “Where Have I Been” post and my first as a more committed writer and member of our lovely little community.

As you might remember last year was my first year as a teacher. I’d slogged through a training program, quit my horrible and much-hated job, and began a new career as middle school creative writing instructor. I discovered that while teaching feeds many parts of my soul – creatively, intellectually, and emotionally – it is also the most exhausting thing I have ever done.

Hence the title of this post: one side of this sword-of-change sliced through the scar tissue of my previous existence and liberated my true self; the other side, however, slashes an enormous hole in my energy tank, causing that precious resource to hemorrhage at a terrifying rate. Most times at the end of the day, or week, or month, I was fried and had nothing left to put out there. And when forced to choose between all the great ideas and topics in my head or myself, I chose me.

Summer has given me time to reflect on the positive aspects of this change and, to echo Kathy’s “Under the Wire”  post, there are two major successes to report. The first is simple: I finally feel like myself again after many years of … well, not. And while it may seem contradictory to think that interacting with over 100 students a day (and parents and administrators and counselors … the list goes on) makes me a better introvert, it does. All this extroverting contributes towards one of my core personal projects – teaching – and thus makes me happy.

Plus, now I can now be goofy and silly. I can wear blue nail polish and dye my hair pink if I want to and NO ONE WILL CARE. Suppressing this person for so long was bad-exhausting; letting this person out is feels-so-good exhausting. I may be tired, but it is truly wonderful to wake up and know I get to be myself and not someone defined by a job or title.

Another benefit is being a better parent. An example: this spring I actually planned weekend activities. Previously I viewed museum visits or road trips as exercises in energy depletion, and I would often stay home and recharge when Dreamy took Slim and Lunchbox out.  Now, especially that it’s summer, I enjoy cooking up adventures for us to have. So far we’ve gone to the movies, a play, museums, AND a few road trips.

Another benefit? I’ve been able to enjoy my children rather than simply managing them. We’ve played games (Lunchbox is a total cheater at “Candyland”), dress-up, and taken long walks together. We’ve cuddled in bed reading books and made up silly games.  Am I tired at the end of the day? Yes. But again, it’s a good tired. It’s an “I Did Something Fun” tired. Parenting is also (presumably) one of my core personal projects and spending more time with Slim and Lunchbox has been a huge eye-opener in the best possible way.

Side note: summer has also meant adjusting to a whole new different kind of momhood. The learning curve has been brutal at times. More in my next post.

This year has been tough, with the sword of change whipping back and forth doing its thing. Now, however, in my mind the sword is horizontal and still (kind of like this). I have developed better tools to recognize when I’m veering too close to the negative side and its detrimental effects. “Balance” is not a word I believe in using when discussing career and life management but I can say this: my career and life management “flow” (yay Susan Cain!) is in a good place. Let’s cross our fingers and hope it stays there.

— Tiffany

 

Hello? Is It Me You’re Looking For?

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  Tiffany  As a child of the 80’s this Lionel Ritchie song pops up in my head every now and then. And I figured it would be an amusing way to re-introduce myself to the fabulous Introverted Mom community. To refresh your memory you can read more about me here.

Three cheers to Kathy who has so brilliantly run the blog since January. Hip hip hooray! (Repeat two times to yourself.) I am thankful to her for picking up my slack and for growing our group, and I am super excited to be back.

So where the Hell have I been?

The short answer: school. Because I am a masochistic lunatic.

Earlier this year I enrolled in a professional development course. It turned out to be a lot more work than I anticipated. “This is like taking a firehose in the face,” one of my fellow panic-stricken colleagues said. Weeknights and weekends (and, let’s be honest here, workdays) were suddenly consumed with reading, researching, and paper-writing. While it was exciting to engage long-dormant parts of my brain, it was almost paralyzing to realize how much more I was suddenly responsible for. Dreamy took on the brunt of the domestic responsibilities and it is only thanks to him that we somehow survived five months of Utter Nightmare Class. It wasn’t pretty but we slogged through.

Throughout this experience I was on my own a lot, hunkered down at a coffee shop or the library.  And you know what?  I was lonely.

Wait. What?

“I’m an introvert,” I thought to myself. “We don’t get lonely. We LIKE lonely.” But I was, and I didn’t like it at all. Feeling disconnected from one’s husband and kids is terrible and it served to amplify and exacerbate the school stress. When we did spend time together as a family I was bitchy and distracted by ever-present papers and projects. Not pretty, indeed.

We all suffered until I was able lean back (sorry, Sheryl Sandberg) and let go of the need to get perfect grades and to perform perfectly at work. Giving myself permission to not earn a  perfect grade on each and every assignment (hmm, sensing a theme here, are we?) liberated me from my own idiotic false expectations and empowered me to refocus and recommit mental and emotional energy to my family.  And voila – the loneliness vanished.  I still cared about doing well but “A Little Less Than the Best” became my official motto. Releasing those expectations felt wonderful and I regret not doing it much sooner.

Now that the course is mostly finished I have a newfound appreciation for the time I thought I didn’t have before; time which, while enrolled in the class, was necessarily highly structured and managed. I can see now how much time I DO have to devote to the kids or myself or to other things, like the blog or DIY home projects. Having truly free time again is a gift I will do my best not to squander.

Now then. Off to purge and organize the medicine cabinet. Just because I can.

 

Tiffany’s Totally Unscientific Theory About Introverts and Sleep

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In which one of the Moms pretends to be something she’s not.

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tiffany_head_256Remember our post about sleep? We shared some research that concluded introverts do fine on less sleep while extroverts hit the wall without enough shuteye. This is largely due to the way our brains are wired and how we respond to certain stimuli. At the end I theorized introverts need more sleep than extroverts, contrary to the study results.

Because, you know, I am a scientist.

My theory has been somewhat refined thanks largely to this brilliant visual. Here goes:  the more time I spend outside my hamster ball the more sleep I need.

Being outside that ball exhausting. Having people reach inside that ball is exhausting. For introverts, as we all know, this is akin to hooking up our internal battery to some giant, power-sucking device (this comes to mind) and letting it drain our battery right down to empty. 

I’ve observed if I don’t get adequate recharge time physical exhaustion is sure to follow.  Ignoring the tired leads to illness and before I know it I’m bowled over by a sore throat, a sinus infection, or some other respiratory nastiness. And we all know if Mommy is sick everyone suffers.

As a result of this earth-shattering knowledge I have taken a few steps to address the fatigue issue:

1.  Limiting gluten. “So trendy!” you might think. Honestly, however, reducing it has made my energy levels noticeably higher. My legendary ability to consume massive amounts of sweets is going to make holiday baking a challenge this year but in 2014 I plan to eliminate gluten entirely.

2.  Scheduling bedtime. Usually I’m in bed by 9:30 p.m. and read until 10.  Does this happen every night? No. (Damn you, New Yorker magazine!) But the more I stick to the schedule the more rested I feel. And 30 minutes of reading is a good way to transition between being outside the hamster ball and going back in.

3.  Redefining weekend time. This was a tough one but running around like the proverbial poulet sans tête on Saturdays and Sundays does not equal recharging. I am happy to do my chores and spend time with the kids, but at a certain point I need to sit down and be still. It is helpful to make lists, of course, and to set a “Busy Work” time limit.

4.  Taking naps. One per weekend if possible. My body tells me how long to sleep:  sometimes it’s only 30 minutes while other times it’s a two and a half hour monster snooze with Lunchbox.

5.  Drinking water. Tiredness is an easily overlooked symptom of dehydration, and while drinking a lot of water is easy at work it is difficult at home. Thus a new rule:  every time I go into the kitchen (which is A LOT) I drink a glass.

Fellow introverts, have you noticed this about yourselves?  If so how do you cope?

Off to get more H²0.

— Tiffany

 

Write It Out

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The Moms like to write.  Duh.  But how does writing help in the parenting department?

Tiffany Confession time:  I babble when nervous.  Gaps in conversation make me uncomfortable and as a result, I prattle.  On and on until I can extract myself from the situation.  I will change the subject six or seven times, pepper people with inane questions, or blurt out something marginally inappropriate and usually profane.

While I am perfectly content with silence (oh, hell, I CRAVE it, who are we kidding?) when alone or with a few carefully selected friends, larger groups of people or social events cause me to quake with fear on the inside.  Numerous times during these interactions I find myself thinking, “Couldn’t I just write you all an email?”

Introverts like to write.  It is easy to see why:  writing allows time to process and construct responses and to reflect upon the interaction itself and any resulting feelings or ideas.  For me writing is a quiet, solitary activity.  Writing also serves as an ordering exercise and allows for the mental arrangement of a tiny portion of the endless stimuli with which I am bombarded.  It can take the form of a simple list to a free-form exercise describing the overwhelmingness of everyday life or how happy a pair of well-fitting pants makes me feel.  These things, in aggregate, calm me down and permit a return to center, if you will.  Oh, the power of a blank piece of paper and a pencil.

And believe it or not, I think an affinity for writing makes me a better mom.  Obviously there are many, many situations with small children that do not allow time to formulate a considered response (example:  Señor Lunchbox.  Every.  Damn.  Day.).  As Princess Slim has matured, however, we’ve had some great conversations during which I’ve been able to offer more considered and thoughtful responses to the changing nature of her questions.  Writing has undoubtedly trained me to think this way.

I hope writing will bolster our mother-daughter relationship during the tumultuous teen years when she hates me and doesn’t want to acknowledge my existence.  That can all be fixed with a funny note or email, right?  

– Tiffany

KathyPoking my head in after a week away at a writing workshop to say I AGREE, both on the importance of writing for introverts and the sad lack of opportunities to gather one’s thoughts while wrangling little kids. One of the toughest things for me as a parent is having to fly by the seat of my pants so often.

But, like Tiffany, I hope that will change as Doodlebug gets older. Long ago I wrote down the title of this book, a journal for moms and daughters to write together. It looks like it’s aimed at tweens, and I think it will be great to have not only a place where we can “talk” without being face to face but also a method of communication that will allow me to marshal my thoughts and my reasoning ahead of time.

You wouldn’t even have to use a true diary, any notebook would do. And Doodlebug and I both looooove pretty notebooks. I might just have to raid my stash and get us started sooner rather than later. Maybe today!

– Kathy