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

 

 

Fake It Until You Make It?

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A recent article in the Wall Street Journal reports introverts would be happier if they just acted like extroverts more often.

Really?

The Moms have some issues with this.

Big ones.

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KathyI will go ahead and estimate that I own 1000 books. I’m constantly maxing out the 50-book limit on my library card, too. I track book release dates like other people track movie releases, and sitting down with a new book by an author I love is one of my favorite things in the world. And if I have uninterrupted time to read that book in one or two big gulps? Bliss.

You know what else I love? Amusement parks. I love Skee-ball. I love funnel cakes and cotton candy. I love twirly, twisty, spinning rides, and I love roller coasters (warning: I’m a screamer). I love photo booths, and one day I WILL convince my family to do one of those old-timey dress up photo shoots with me.

According to the Wall Street Journal, the fact that I, an introvert, can enjoy an amusement park proves that introverts should totally act like extroverts. All the time! We’d be so much happier! Just, you know, get out there and have fun and stuff!

To which I say: Are you kidding me with this?

No one is saying that introverts can’t or don’t enjoy many of the same activities extroverts do. Yes, I love to read, but I also like talking with friends, even at (gasp!) parties. I’m currently obsessed with Netflixing “Friday Night Lights,” but I also enjoy going to real-live football games. And while you’re more likely to find me singing along with Coldplay alone in my car, I was there in the nosebleed section the last time they came to town.

But here’s the thing – those more intense activities, done for sustained periods of time, are draining for introverts. That’s why I have an issue with the second study cited in the Wall Street Journal article.

Dr. John Zelenski’s research, which was presented in the April 2013 issue of the Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, found that introverts underestimated how much fun it would be to act extroverted and also overestimated how taxing it would be. But in these studies, which lasted only 20 minutes, the subjects were asked to do things like chat with a new person or work with a group to put a puzzle together.

That hardly sounds intense to me. In fact, that sounds like everyday life. What (I believe) is truly taxing for an introvert is the successive, repeated, sometimes undesired occasions when we are required to act extroverted throughout the course of a day. The study didn’t measure this. And it certainly wasn’t able to measure the effects of a major event like, say, a trip to an amusement park.

Yes, I love them. But I know that I’ll need time to recharge afterward, to regain the energy I expended having all that fun. So I don’t think, as the study suggests, that I’m talking myself out of enjoyable events by choosing not to spend every weekend at an amusement park. I think I’m being realistic and honoring my own temperament by not going so often that I collapse in a heap next to the Tilt-A-Whirl. Because, frankly, that doesn’t sound like much fun to me.

— Kathy

tiffany_head_128I am not a psychologist. I do not play one on TV, nor do I have any experience designing psychological research studies or interpreting their results. In fact, during my first read of the Zelenski study, with its many pages containing what looked like terrifyingly complicated equations, I had almost had a panic attack.

But I digress.

While the Wall Street Journal article offers additional and a somewhat contrary perspective towards the end of the piece, it goes without saying I disagree with the article’s, erm, dumbass title and the study Kathy references above.

Let me repeat:  I am not a social scientist. Multiple readings of Dr. Zelenski’s study, however, left me with the following questions:

  • Study subjects represent a very narrow demographic group — university undergraduate students.  Why the lack of diversity among participants?

Again, Survey Novice here, but I suspect a deeper and wider sample would generate vastly different results.  Kathy came up with the term “experienced introvert,” and I think improving the breadth and depth of the survey pool — to include people of different ages who are probably more comfortable in their own skins, and, more importantly, people from different life stages including parents, working professionals, and senior citizens — would offer a better representation of the general population.

  • What’s behind the descriptive word choices in the Method section, Materials subsection?

The language used in the extraverted instructions is unabashedly positive (“bold,” “adventurous,” “assertive”) while the word choices for the introverted instructions are decidedly negative (“lethargic,” “passive,” “unadventurous”). These words seem obviously biased to me and I wonder how their use might influence potential outcomes.

  • The study also relies on something called “affective forecasting,” defined by Psychology Today as:

                  Affective forecasting is predicting how you will feel in the future. As it turns out, we’re                       terrible at it. We’re not good judges of what will make us happy, and we have trouble                      seeing through the filter of the now. Our feelings in the present blind us to how we’ll                        make decisions in the future when we might be feeling differently.

If affective forecasting as a concept is weak sauce, doesn’t it follow that it would be a rather shaky foundation upon which to build a serious academic inquiry?

To be fair the authors do express reluctance to be “prescriptive,” yet the last lines of the study — “ … a few more moments of extraverted behavior might be good for their [introvert’s] happiness (even if they do not think so)” — make me want to deliver a karate kick to their collective shins.

One of my favorite Anna Quindlen quotes addresses the idea of giving up on being perfect and “beginning the work of becoming yourself.” Perfection doesn’t exist (whatever, Beyoncé), but pretending to be something you aren’t or to like doing something that you don’t is a long way from becoming yourself and being true to your inner disposition. And that, dear reader, is an enormous part of achieving happiness.

— Tiffany

Book Review: Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can’t Stop Talking by Susan Cain

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KathyHi all, welcome to our first book review! We wanted to share some of the books we’re reading as we explore our roles as introverted parents, and we’re starting with Susan Cain. You’ve probably heard about her book: Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can’t Stop Talking.

If you know me in real life, you’ve definitely heard about this book because I won’t stop telling people about it.

 

quiet2_smallerThis is my copy. I think it’s safe to say it spoke to me.

 

Overview:

There’s a reason the title starts off with “Quiet” and not “Introverts” – Cain isn’t a psychologist (she’s a lawyer-turned-writer) and she’s exploring more than just the strict definition of introversion as a personality trait. She’s also looking at a group of traits that are often connected, including being risk-averse, introspective, shy. These types of people, and their strengths, are often overlooked in American society, Cain argues. She traces the rise of what she calls the Extrovert Ideal, pointing out ways our society prizes gregarious, assertive, bold, LOUD people.

Through profiles of famous (and not-so-famous) introverts, examinations of different psychological theories, and an exploration of the connection between solitude and creativity, Cain gives introverts permission to be themselves. Being an introvert isn’t just okay, she tells us. It’s important.

 

Why Introverts Should Read This Book:

So you can say “So there!” to everyone who’s ever told you you’re too quiet. Just kidding. Kind of. I’ve heard about so many people who feel empowered by this book, who didn’t even realize that being an introvert was normal. And even though I already knew my personality type, it never hurts to be reminded that, no, our society really is not geared toward people like me. If I feel out of step sometimes, that’s why, not because I’m doing something wrong.

Other takeaways: Introverts and extroverts need different levels of outside stimulation, and I like Cain’s idea of “sweet spots” – figuring out your just-right level and seeking out experiences that fit. She also makes the point that even introverts need to keep adjusting, which explains why I can sometimes get stir-crazy on a Sunday afternoon at the end of a laid-back weekend.

For me, Cain’s discussion of Elaine Aron’s research on highly sensitive people was eye-opening. Not all introverts are highly sensitive, but I think I do fall into this category. It’s giving me insight into why I get overwhelmed so much more quickly than iDad, even though we’re both introverts. Expect more banging on about this one from me in the future!

 

Why Extroverts Should Read This Book:

To get a better idea about how the other one-third to one-half of the population lives. I think this book should be required reading for extroverted managers and teachers, or for any extrovert who’s in charge of a group of people.

Cain also examines the benefits of working solo – turns out creativity is harder to come by in a group environment. Many introverts already know this (group projects, blech!), but it’s startling to see how our schools and our workplaces have embraced what Cain has named the “New Groupthink”. I read here that she’s working on a curriculum to help teachers reach introverts in the classroom, and I think that’s a fantastic idea.

 

Why Parents Should Read This Book:

If you’re raising an introvert, Chapter 11 of Quiet is for you. While Cain encourages parents to enjoy their kids for who they are, she also has great tips for helping them feel more confident and comfortable in this overstimulating world of ours. Don’t throw your kid into a new situation with a “She’ll be fine!” attitude, help her find ways to get used to things at her own pace. Check out a new place ahead of time if possible, arrive early, don’t push. And, instead of criticizing your child for acting shy, praise her when she stretches herself.

Parents, too, should carefully read the sections about school. I am not (NOT!) encouraging helicopter parenting, but it’s worth considering whether your kid’s classroom environment is geared more toward extroverts. At Doodlebug’s school, I was surprised to find that her first grade class didn’t use desks — the kids sat at tables together like they did in kindergarten.

There’s a great list of factors to consider if you’re in a position to choose a school for your kids (Small classes? Anti-bullying program? Subjects or extracurriculars your child is drawn to?). But Cain has good suggestions for helping your kids thrive at any school. Also, she makes the excellent point that your introverted child might need time to decompress at the end of the day, so give them time to do that before you start peppering them with questions. You just might get more info out of them that way.

 

Bonus materials:

Cain gave a TED talk in 2012 that touches on the main points in her book. Definitely worth 20 minutes of your time.

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So have you read Quiet? What did you think? I’ve started leaving my copy in our guest room – maybe all our visitors will pick it up and learn something about themselves (or about a favorite introvert). Muahahaha!

–Kathy

You’re On Vacation. Relax, Dammit.

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The first person who uttered the words “I need a vacation after that vacation” must have been an introvert. But it doesn’t have to be that way. Here are some of our favorite travel tips – share yours with us in the comments!

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KathyI love traveling, especially if there are really, really old buildings (preferably castles) involved. But I’m not going to lie, I find it incredibly draining for the following reasons:

Eating out all the time. I don’t miss cooking and iDad doesn’t miss dishes, but after about a day and a half of restaurants I. Just. Can’t. Any. More. Ideally we stay somewhere with a full kitchen, but at a minimum we make sure we have a fridge in our hotel room. We have employed any and all of these strategies:

  • Breakfast in the room (bring cereal, single-serve milks, and fruit and you’re good to go).

  • Picnics for lunch.

  • Dinner in the room. There’s room service (clearly invented by an introvert), takeout, or even (gasp!) cooking something simple if facilities are available.

You can use paper plates and plastic utensils. I will not judge.

Being with extra people. This means the ones you know and love (hello, extended family) and the oodles of strangers you are forced to make the dreaded small talk with – hotel clerks, tour guides, that nice family sitting next to you on the ferry. For an introvert, that gets overwhelming fast. I have learned to:

  • Use car time to recharge. Doodlebug loves audiobooks, so we usually alternate between those and a family-friendly music playlist. That provides a lot of time when I don’t have to talk to anyone, which is ideal when you’re going from one fun-but-intense activity (family reunion picnic!) to another (amusement park!).

  • Sit some things out. I am a big fan of the hotel pool, and by that I mean I send iDad and Doodlebug there while I grab some alone time in the room. If you still have kids who nap, volunteer to hang out with them while your extroverted companions go off on another adventure.

  • Get a suite at hotels, if possible. Like I’ve said before, having time to recharge in the evening after Doodlebug goes to bed is key for me. If we have a bedroom with a door and a separate sitting room, she can fall asleep while iDad and I chill out for a while. Priceless.

The pace. Some vacations are laidback by design (a week at the beach), but some definitely are not (Disney World). And while you want to get your money’s worth, racing around hitting every last thing in the guidebook is a recipe for introvert burnout. And little kid burnout, when it comes to that. So:

  • Make peace with the fact that you will not see everything. Have everyone in your group pick their number one most important activity and put the rest on your “if there’s time” list. Repeat after me: You can always go back.

  • Build in downtime. There is nothing wrong with relaxing on a bench for a while, even if you’re somewhere awesome. I can give you detailed reviews of London’s playgrounds because we visited one almost every day on our trip there last summer. (Psst. The one by the London Eye has a cool rope-climbing structure and miniature sheep. Miniature sheep!)

  • Divide and conquer. If half of your group wants to look for shells while the other half is off to the boardwalk to play mini golf, pick the quieter activity. You’ll have more energy for whatever comes next.

If all else fails, remember my favorite kind of vacation – the one where everyone else goes somewhere and you stay, alone, in your blissfully quiet house.

— Kathy

tiffany_head_128On Saturday we four will pile in the car and begin our sixteen hour road trip to rural Illinois.  I plan to deploy all of Kathy’s excellent strategies as well as maybe some duct tape and age appropriate doses of Benadryl.

Once we arrive we will be joined by another faction of the family.  By the time all is said and done there will be approximately 19 of us running around, including nine kids under the age of seven.

That’s a lot of people.  That’s a lot of interacting.

A moment please.  I’ve got to go take a deep breath.

Ok.  How does this all work, you ask?  This is an incredibly fun trip – exhausting, yes, but something I look forward to all year.  It works because as Kathy notes above I’ve learned how to step back and identify opportunities to recharge.

One of the first things I try to do after we arrive is to go for a walk.  Alone.  No iPod, no phone, nothing except nature sounds.  It looks a lot like this, minus the hills, ocean, crown, and ermine robe.  Because where I am from is so rural there is a distinct lack of noise – introvert paradise!  This walk serves as decompression from those hours of forced togetherness in the car and the overnight hotel stay.  It is also an important signal to my brain to slow. the. hell. down.

The second strategy is snoozing with Señor Lunchbox.  He plays and runs himself into the ground while we are at the farm and fortunately he still takes naps.  We’ll read a book or two while he drinks his milk and then BAM!  He falls asleep and I’m usually right behind him.  If for whatever reason I don’t sleep, lying next to him in the stillness, listening to his soft breathing and again, the silence, is enormously restorative.  This means I miss out on time with my family and some activities but trust me, it is better for everyone when I have had some quiet time.

Finally, driving around by myself is another way to carve out some breathing space.  I usually have a few errands to do while home and they provide the perfect opportunity for getting behind the wheel and taking the long way around, as the Dixie Chicks sang.  Open windows, no traffic, and lots of empty, straight roads await.  Hopping back in the car after such a long drive seems counterintuitive, but when I’m alone, no one is chattering or throwing Rice Chex at me from the back seat.  I can stop and wander around an old cemetery or pick wildflowers from the ditch or simply stare at the neatly planted (and oddly soothing) rows of corn in the fields.

Yet I inevitably return to my real life exhausted.  It is a good, full kind of tired, though, the kind that used to come as a kid after playing outside all day and probably how Lunchbox and Slim feel after a day at the farm.  Recovering from the vacation is possible, however, only if I’ve taken the steps above to ensure that it is a vacation, rather than simply an exported version of our daily routine.

Oh, and taking an extra day off the day after we return helps immeasurably.

As does gin.

— Tiffany

Downtime Abbey

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The Moms love their Downton Abbey, especially the Dowager Countess of Grantham (mostly because of quotes like this).  But when you don’t have a Mrs. Hughes, a Mrs. Patmore, or an Anna Bates, downtime can be difficult to come by.  When the Moms do find a few free moments, how do they decide what to do with them?

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kathy_crayon_256I miss naps. It’s been more than three years since Doodlebug dropped hers, but I still think of them fondly. They were a guaranteed hit of free time for me during the day, and they were guilt-free. Little kids need lots of sleep to grow up happy and healthy. I’m not sure the same can be said of My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, my current go-to.

Still, naps were not a perfect system. I never knew if I was going to get three hours or forty-five minutes, which made it hard to plan my time. And Baby Doodlebug seemed to have some kind of reading radar that signaled her to wake up the second I tried to sit down with a book. There were many days when I’d putter around, being productive, for two hours and when I finally took a minute to relax, boom, she’d wake up.

So I developed a simple rule for my free time: Do the most important thing first. “Most important” can mean whatever you need it to mean – maybe everyone is out of underwear and you have got to throw in a load of laundry. Great, do it. If you are covered in spit-up and various other bodily fluids, grab that shower. If you’re hungry, always eat first. If you don’t, you will end up with a baby in one hand and a sandwich in the other. I dripped a lot of condiments on Doodlebug before I figured that one out.

But it’s always been easy, too easy, to get wrapped up in all the stuff I have to do and run out of time for what I really need to do with my downtime, which is recharge. Last week iDad was out of town, which meant I was on for that long, long stretch from school pick-up to bedtime. But still, on the occasions when Doodlebug was happily playing on her own, I had to remind myself over and over to choose to stop, to slow down, to just sit with a magazine instead of rushing on to the next chore.

As we go into summer and my blocks of downtime again become shorter and unpredictable, I need to remember that sometimes the most important thing to attend to is myself. I can always start a load of laundry after Doodlebug goes to bed. Nothing bad will happen if I ignore those papers on my desk for one more day.

Even if I only have twenty minutes, sometimes the best thing really is just watching our crazy backyard chipmunks race around, or, yes, sitting down and reading an entire chapter of a book. I will be a happier mom if I take that time. Do the most important thing first.

– Kathy

tiffany_head_256

Downtime is in short supply at our house.  While I cannot speak 100% for Dreamy I wager that he does not, in fact, get enough time to himself.  I am certain I don’t due largely to the superhuman (or “stupid human” on grouchy days) demands of commuting, mommying, and working.  Downtime is such a scarcity I’ve had to come up with a few tactics and strategies to help cope.

The first is something I like to call Compressed Introversion (“CI” for future reference). CI is essentially small pockets of time carved out during the day in which I am consciously doing something — walking to the car to pick up Señor Lunchbox or washing my face before bed —  but in reality I am checked out and in my own world.  It’s weird, I know, but it works.

Now, I’m not so oblivious that I would walk in front of a bus or use toothpaste as facial cleanser; rather I am thinking quiet thoughts and being mindful of my surroundings: listening to the birds chatter in the trees or enjoying the warm water as it splashes my face. Other folks have different names for this tactic, I’m sure, but by calling it CI I am able to play a mini-Jedi mind trick on myself and satisfy my need for a few minutes of interior quiet.

The second strategy is based on a question:  “What can’t I do when everyone is around?”  I can’t, for example, sit down and read.  I also cannot organize stuff, watch a show, take a bath, or exercise (ha — cue Alicia Silverstone’s Cher in “Clueless:”  “AS IF!”) with three other people in the house.  So I do these things when Dreamy thankfully takes Slim and Lunchbox to the park or the pool or on errands.

Anaïs Nin said, “When I cannot bear outer pressures anymore, I begin to put order in my belongings…As if unable to organize and control my life, I seek to exert this on the world of objects.”  True to Ms. Nin’s wise words, if given a bit of time to step back and maybe impose some order (or maybe just lie on the couch and catch up with the Dowager Countess) I usually feel refreshed and revived.

This was a difficult lesson to learn.  Ignoring full laundry baskets or a sinkful of dirty dishes is not easy.  But you know what?  I can deal with those tasks while everyone in the house. Sometimes, however, I feel selfish and guilty and that I should be listening to the nagging, needling inner voice that says YOU ARE A MOTHER AND YOU ARE ON, SISTER!

Fortunately I’ve gotten a lot better at telling that voice to STFU.

– Tiffany

 

The Crazy, Hazy (But Definitely Not Lazy) Days of Summer

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DJ Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince got it right in “Summertime”:

School is out and it’s a sort of a buzz

But back then I didn’t really know what it was

But now I see what have of this

The way that people respond to summer madness 

These months present challenges for parents everywhere.  School ends, schedules are disrupted, and madness can ensue.  How do the Introverted Moms cope?

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tiffany_head_128

Summer is no big deal to Señor Lunchbox.  He will wake up and go to school.  This is good because he desperately needs a structured environment.  Dreamy and I will wake up and go to work.  This is good because we need to keep our jobs.  Princess Slim will, on the other had, wake up and go somewhere new every week.  For her this summer will be one of constant adjustment to new routines, new places, and new people.  She bears the brunt of summer insanity, and it breaks my heart.

Princess Slim is signed up for seven — SEVEN — different camps this summer and I have two weeks left to fill.  Really hoping to draft some grandparents into service so the poor girl can sleep in late and have some down time once in awhile.  Guilt isn’t my thing, but  booking her into all these activities has made me feel guiltier than I’ve ever felt in my entire life.  Why?

Some of it is undoubtedly tied up with childhood memories of long stretches of unstructured time and the exhilarating sense of freedom felt upon finishing the school year.  Perhaps I need to let go of my expectations for these months and acknowledge my anxiety stems from the fact that I want summers back, the kind with long days and seemingly limitless choices.  These experiences were critical to my development, I think, and I desperately want Slim and Lunchbox to have these same types of opportunities.

As Kathy mentioned to me, however, these kinds of summers “aren’t possible any more for us.” And let’s be real:  even if I did have summers off I would still be looking for things to do with the kids, who most likely would not want to sit around and read all day.  Hello, adulthood calling.  Responsibility on lines one and two.  There is no going back, only forward, and I can’t let unrealistic expectations mess up my head.

The other guilt-inducing part is murkier.  As a mother, isn’t it my job to spend time with my kids? I find it impossible to reconcile my roles as Mom and Working Mom during the summer months.   My job is deathly quiet in the summer but I still have to show up and appear to be working even though I’d much rather be goofing off with Slim.

These thoughts hurl me into an ugly insecurity spiral:  what the hell are my priorities? Why do we live in an area where two incomes are required?  Kids are only young once, you know, and you are fracking it. all. up.  Why did you even have kids if you can’t spend time with them?  You are a terrible mother.

Ugh.  A solution must exist.  It may be as simple as taking a vacation day once every few weeks and declaring it “Slim and Mom” time.  It might be as complicated as changing careers (anybody need an English teacher?  I have no experience or certification but I sure do love words and books!).  This isn’t coping at all; it’s a mess. And I don’t like it one bit.

— Tiffany

Kathy

I’m not very good at summer. I’m not talking about the heat, the humidity, the bugs, the sand, or the sunscreen, although I’m no good at them, either. I’m talking about the vast expanses of unstructured time.

This is pretty ironic, because, as an introvert, I’m all about the unstructured time. I need it, I crave it. If I had 10 weeks to myself… sorry, my head just exploded.

But managing Doodlebug’s summer is one of my biggest challenges as a parent. It’s gotten easier – iDad was still working in an office when she was small, so I basically resigned myself to the fact that I wouldn’t get any writing done until preschool started again in September. Now that he works at home we have much more flexibility, but it’s still complicated.

How much of Doodlebug’s time should be completely open? If we sign her up for camp, will she hate it? (Still smarting from the Art Camp Debacle of ’12.) When can she see her friends, who are all on different home/camp/vacation schedules? Do we get to take a vacation? When will iDad and I work? And how will I fit in my own downtime?

The last one, of course, is where I always get tripped up. As a kid, summer was a time for slowing down — sleeping in, reading, taking a break from the social pressures of school and being by myself for a change. But now that I’m a mom, summer is exactly when things ramp up. I feel like Doodlebug’s social director, carefully planning enough fun to keep her entertained but not over-committed.

We spend more time together, which is wonderful. During the school year, we only get about six hours of Doodlebug time a day. Most of that is rushing through our schedule, trying to hit our targets: breakfast, dropoff, pickup, dinner, homework, bedtime. I don’t miss that craziness. But that doesn’t change the fact that summer, with more emphasis on my Mom role, is draining for me.

I know, from past summers, that certain things do not work. Wide-open days with nothing planned? Cranky mom, cranky kid. Swapping half-work days with iDad? The blocks of time were too short to accomplish much, and we never spent time as a family. Vacation here, camp there, free week in between? No routine, and I thrive on routine (so do kids, I hear). Playground playdate + picnic lunch + berry picking + pool? After two days of that I would need a week off to recover.

So here’s what we’re trying this year. The first part of our summer is pretty open. We have one mini trip scheduled, and Doodlebug will be spending some long weekends with her grandparents (thank you, grandparents!). But when she’s home I will plan morning activities, either playtime with friends or excursions with me and/or iDad.

I want us to be home in the afternoons, though, and we’re going to try an after-lunch family reading time. Stealth school skills for Doodlebug, downtime for me. iDad is our pool parent, so hopefully they can fit in some water time in the late afternoons. More downtime for me. And if all else fails I will have my precious evening time.

Then comes the camp phase – Doodlebug and Princess Slim are signed up for four weeks of camp together, which I hope will solve the “But I don’t have any friennnnnds there!” issue from summers past. And I’m also hoping that grouping the camps in a block will let me get in several good weeks of writing. Taking that month-long break beforehand will give me a chance to organize my thoughts about my novel. Or so I’m telling myself.

After the camps we’ll have a family vacation and then one totally free week before school starts. I want to keep this as open as possible, both to give Doodlebug a chance to transition back to the school year schedule and to give us time to eat plenty of ice cream. I will let you know how it goes…

— Kathy

Ch-ch-changes

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KathyThe transition from no baby to new baby can be a bumpy one for lots of reasons, but some of them are unique to introverts. In no particular order:

People will come over to your house. This is good, truly it is. Other people! People who don’t wear diapers or spit up on you. People who can communicate with words instead of shrieks. Sometimes they even bring you food, which is excellent.

But if you’re like me, your house is sort of your private sanctuary. It’s not the place where all the neighbors come and hang out. Certainly not while you’re trying to figure out how to feed a tiny person with food you’ve made with your own body. That was weird. But just know that the visiting phase doesn’t last forever. And that it’s perfectly fine not to answer if someone calls or rings the doorbell. Um, not that I ever did this.

Your baby will probably want to be held a lot. Babies just do. Doodlebug definitely did, and it was a big change to go from normal human contact to nearly-nonstop, 24/7 human contact.

So trade off with your spouse whenever you can. This is also where the visitors can come in handy – let your friend hold the baby while you take a shower. Let your mother-in-law try out the baby wrap you haven’t even gotten a chance to open yet. (Side note: if babywearing is not your thing, that is OKAY.) And if your baby refuses to be held by anyone but you, read on. Tiffany feels your pain.

Introverts are not good at switching gears or leaving a project before they’ve finished with it. Guess what – you will have to do that all the time with a baby (and with older kids, too).

Since I was at home with Doodlebug, it was vital for me to have “off-the-clock” time where someone else was in charge and I could set my own pace. At first it was just a twenty-minute trip to the grocery store, alone, while my mom babysat. Later it was going to the library to write while Doodlebug and iDad hung out for the afternoon. Family is great. Babysitters are great. Preschool is great. School is really, really great.

Moms’ groups. They’re everywhere – at the hospital, in your neighborhood, for nursing moms, for working moms, etc etc. I tried to embrace the concept, really I did, but it was just not me. I didn’t want to go and be with people I barely knew when I was already busy with my baby, who I barely knew! So I will go ahead and say that you do not have to join a moms’ group.

Having mom friends is key, though – I spent a ton of time with one friend whose son is a few months younger than Doodlebug, and that was just right for me. Plus, now there’s Facebook and Twitter, which can function as your own virtual moms’ group from the comfort of your own home. And, of course, you know you are always welcome here.

On the blog. Not at my house. If you ring the doorbell, I reserve the right to pretend I’m not home.

— Kathy

tiffany_head_128I definitely believe introverts have a more difficult time adjusting to motherhood. In my case I am fairly certain one of the after effects of giving birth was a bad case of agoraphobia, particularly after Señor Lunchbox arrived.

Señor Lunchbox had acid reflux and slept in roughly 20 minute blocks the first months of his life (no, really.  I timed them).  Everybody was tired but as the parent on maternity leave my primary job was to take care of him.    It took ages for us to figure out the reflux situation, get the proper medication, and for it to start working.  He finally began sleeping better.

When he was awake, however, it was Mommy or nothing. Not Dreamy, not a bouncy seat or special pillow or sling or swing or any of those “soothe your newborn” gadgets. If I put him down to eat, he screamed, and if I dared to pee or just wanted to have my arms back for a few minutes, he screamed. The lack of physical space was smothering and became increasingly difficult to manage. I didn’t love Señor Lunchbox any less but there were days when I wondered how I was going to make it through. Looking back, I honestly don’t know how I did.

There were other reasons I stuck close to home. Both Princess Slim and Señor Lunchbox are summer babies and it was boiling hot in the weeks after they were born. On cool mornings I would take them out but only for a quick stroller-spin around the block or to lounge on the patio.

Also, after Señor Lunchbox was born, Dreamy took the Good Car to work and I had the Beater Car. I love the Beater but it has half an airbag and dodgy air conditioning. I didn’t feel exactly secure about placing a newborn in the back seat, hopping on the highway, and hoping for the best. And where would I have gone, exactly? The mall to look at clothes I couldn’t fit in to? A library or museum with a howling, projectile-vomiting baby? No, thanks.

Now I realize my inability to leave the house wasn’t really about the heat, or the car; had I wanted to go out I could have made something work. The real issue was my non-existent energy level. Monitoring one’s energy level is critical to introvert self-care, and mine was so low that I simply could not deal with the stress of being around other people. One tiny person consumed every bit of emotional, mental, and physical energy I had. “We’re on vapor, Cougar,” from the movie “Top Gun” pretty much sums it up. I was the next smallest state of matter after vapor.

The lesson learned is this:  contrary to all the instincts that activate upon becoming a mom or dad introverts must take care of themselves first to be good parents.  99% of the time you’ll be able to put everyone’s needs before yours; it’s that 1%, however, to which you must pay attention to avoid depleting your energy reserves.  Ignore your need to recharge and you might end up like Cougar, out of fuel and panicking as you try to land your jet on the aircraft carrier.   Without anything in your tank things can get scary fast and you may not have it in you to pull up before crashing onto the deck.

How did I pull out of the tailspin?  That’s a subject for another post.

–Tiffany

 

Being an Introvert: How and When?

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We thought it might be interesting to write about when and how we first knew we were introverts and how this realization shaped our personalities. And how we might parent differently as a result.

tiffany_head_128It was Sunday afternoon. Or rather a series of Sunday afternoons when I was a kid.

After my family went to church (if we went. Sorry God!) we would eat lunch and scatter: my dad napped on the couch or read; my mom disappeared to her sewing cave downstairs; and my younger brother played outside, in his room, or – being the extrovert – at someone’s house. There were no lessons, no sports, no nothing except long afternoons and my own imagination.

I would wander up the street to play with friends only if someone forced me. My preference was to be by myself with my toys, dress up clothes, books and other things not requiring human interaction. Naturally there were times when I was bored but some of my best childhood memories are of those unhurried, solitary afternoons. No additional people required.

By junior high I suspected I was different. By high school, I knew I wasn’t like other kids in my class. My parents knew too and were sensitive enough to give me space on weekends to recharge. During the first weeks of college someone called me an introvert. Mr. Webster provided the definition and the cartoon light bulb switched on over my head.

Anyone reading this blog knows it is currently fashionable to be an introvert. This wasn’t always the case. I tried, so hard, for so many years, to deny and subvert it, because it wasn’t cool to stay home on Saturday night or to not go to happy hour three nights a week. Only recently, really recently, have I become ok with saying “This is who I am.”  I think it has something to do with being over 40 and no longer giving a rat’s ass what people think.

Accepting the introvert means acknowledging when my Solitude Tank is running low. It is easier to say “I need to be by myself for a while” rather than morphing into a snappy shrew who’s pissed off at everyone JUST BECAUSE. Small restorative breaks enable me to be a better person which translates into better managing my various roles. I feel guilty, of course, but I feel infinitely worse when I turn into Her Shrewness and treat everyone like shit.

So. How has this affected my parenting? When Princess Slim goes in her room and closes her door, I don’t knock. I try not to arrange Sunday play dates because this time, this having-nothing-to-do time, is critical in a world where everyone is overscheduled. I want her to learn to be alone and to be ok with it. If and when Señor Lunchbox doesn’t require as much supervision (please God, sorry about church again, but please let there be a when) I will do the same. I won’t force them to do stuff they don’t want to do in spite of the incredible pressure to do and join and play.

Will they suffer? I hope not. We can only afford to have one person in therapy at a time and that’s ME, bitches.

— Tiffany

Kathy

I don’t know when I learned the word introvert, but the first time I understood the concept was in ninth grade.

During freshman year I had a group of lively, crazy, silly friends. We passed notes at school, talked for hours on the phone, went to the movies, had sleepovers, and got kicked out of half the stores at the mall for excessive giggling.

In between, I hid out in my room to read, write stories, and memorize all the songs on They Might Be Giants’ Flood album. And I wrote in my journal nearly every day. My favorite topics were how many times That Guy said hi to me in the hall and what everyone was wearing. (I thought I might want to be able to picture how people looked later on. Memo to 9th Grade Me: No. You won’t care. Sorry.) I really do think those spiral notebooks were the key to my sanity, giving me space to sort through the many dramas of fourteen-year-old life.

By the end of the school year, which included back-to-back overnight trips with choir and color guard, I was seriously drained. So I pulled back, but I didn’t have the vocabulary (or, truthfully, the maturity) to say to my friends, “Look, I’m an introvert. Even when it’s super fun, being with people nonstop wears me out. I need some time to recover, but then I will totally be up for going to Boardwalk Fries.”

Instead I kept turning down invitations, which tends to make people think you don’t want to be friends anymore. We never had a huge falling out. But things just weren’t really the same. And after that year, I did protect my downtime more carefully. I kept writing in my journal, too, which continued to be a calm place when things got crazy busy again.

Fast forward to seven years ago when Doodlebug was born. By then I did know the term introvert, but it honestly never crossed my mind that being one would affect my transition into parenting. I had stocked the freezer with six dozen muffins, but I had exactly zero plans for making sure I would get the alone time I needed.

Add in sleep deprivation, nursing issues, and the idea that good moms love spending every minute with their babies, and it was a rough time at first. Some days are still rough. The apple hasn’t fallen far from the tree, though. Doodlebug can spend hours drawing and writing her own stories. She has decimated my supply of spiral notebooks, but that’s okay. I’ll just keep buying more. For both of us.

— Kathy

Meet the Moms

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Who are we and who do we think we are, having time to blog?

My name is Tiffany. I am married to Dreamy. We have two children, Princess Slim, seven, and Señor Lunchbox, three. I am originally from a tiny town in Illinois but have lived in and around Washington, DC for more years than I care to count.  I work full-time outside the home.

Not surprisingly, my introverted self struggles mightily with working, commuting, and child-raising. Not to mention being a wifefriendauntcousinsisterdaughter. The old saying about being ‘spread thin’ sums up how I feel every. single. day.

Thus my purposes for blogging are twofold. First, to build a community of similarly-situated introverted moms facing these kinds of challenges who can not only commiserate but share coping strategies as well, ‘cuz sometimes I’m not so good with the coping. Second, to try and reclaim some of the creativity I had before the responsibilities of being a full-time everything hit. Plus, true to my introverted self, I prefer writing about things rather than discussing them in person. Unless you are my therapist, to whom I pay a shit ton of money for the privilege of listening to me babble.

Fair warning: I swear a lot. If you are sensitive to that you might want to stick to Kathy’s posts. I also like Jay-Z, all things British, and making labels.

KathyI’m Kathy, and I do too curse, but only if I’m really mad at you. Or tired. Or if I haven’t been getting enough downtime.

I’ve lived in Virginia my whole life, currently with my husband (iDad) and our seven-year-old daughter (Doodlebug). For the past ten years I’ve done some variation of working from home – first as a writer, then as a mom, and now as a mom struggling to find a good balance between writing time and family time.

You know Hermione, from the Harry Potter books? When in doubt, go the library? That’s me, too – but nothing I read in all those parenting books prepared me for the collision between my introverted personality and the intense experience of being responsible for a whole other person. Someone should be writing about this, I told Tiffany. Maybe we should be writing about this. So here we are.

P.S. Do you like Nutella? Okay, good. I think we’re all going to get along just fine.