Tag Archives: school

Listen to the Frog

tiffany_head_128Arnold Lobel’s “Frog and Toad” series is big at our house right now. Sometimes we all pile in the bed and read the stories together while sometimes just Lunchbox and I cuddle up. This was the case last night when we chose “Alone” from Days with Frog and Toad.

In short, Toad shows up at Frog’s house all ready to hang out. Instead he finds a note from Frog saying “Dear Toad, I am not at home. I went out. I want to be alone.”

Fair enough. Frog is the introvert in this relationship.

His note got me thinking about the difference between solitude and being lonely. My last post touched on this a bit but I am still struggling how to define exactly what it is that makes these ideas so similar yet distinct.

Merriam Webster defines solitude as “a state or situation in which you are alone usually because you want to be” while loneliness is a feeling of sadness from being apart from other people. In other words, solitude implies choice – one chooses to be on one’s own rather than having it imposed upon oneself.

What I experienced during the last few months was definitely loneliness. Technically I was by myself and (most of the time, anyway) enjoying the work I was doing, but there were definitely moments when I would have preferred to be with my family or when I was annoyed at having to decline dates with friends. Thus the loneliness was imposed, not chosen. Can you see the light bulb over my head?

Kathy helped me distill this down even further:  when I chose to enroll in a demanding program I expected my down time would be adversely affected. This was a sacrifice I was willing to make. I did not choose, however, the accompanying sense of isolation that occurred as a result of the added work.

Solitude, as Frog wisely notes, allows time to reflect on the good as well as the bad.

“Our lunch is spoiled,” said Toad. “I made it for you, Frog, so that you would be happy.”

“But Toad,” said Frog. “I am happy. I am very happy. This morning when I woke up I felt good because the sun was shining. I felt good because I was a frog. And I felt good because I have you for friend. I wanted to be alone. I wanted to think about how fine everything is.”

Solitude was non-existent from January to June. There was simply no time to reflect or to process the good or the bad; it was a six month struggle to stay afloat. By mid May I was sufficiently waterlogged to adopt an attitude of “I need 80% to pass.” So while I didn’t say “I won’t do the work,” I did say “This assignment gets an hour and that’s it.” Did I get more solitude? Nope. But reclaiming that time time did help battle back some of the loneliness.

Thus I find myself back where I started: with the concept of choice and of knowing when, as an introvert, to say enough. It is mildly alarming to observe that I am still learning where the “E” line is on my Introvert Energy Tank and how to pay attention to it more.

I’m also thinking about how we, as introverts, learn to recognize the difference between solitude and loneliness. And how do we nurture the practice of solitude in our children? More importantly, how do we as moms foster our own practice of solitude given demands of family and work life?

Maybe I should talk to Frog.

— Tiffany

 

KathyProbably the he loneliest stretch of time in my adult life was after I quit my job as a librarian to focus on writing. I didn’t like most parts of my job – the research and writing portions were fun, and so were (some!) of my co-workers, but overall there was too much interaction with the public, too much time spent being “on.” Or on alert for possibly being “on,” which was maybe even worse. The reference desk can be an uncomfortable place for an introvert.

So I jumped ship, and while I was happy to have time (so much time!) to focus on the novel I had started, suddenly I was alone all day. Doodlebug didn’t exist yet. iDad was at work, and so was everyone else I knew. Even though I saw friends and family on weekends or evenings, it wasn’t quite enough. I guess I don’t even need to say that this was 6 years BFB (Before Facebook).

Luckily, I discovered a place that offered amazing writing workshops (The Writer’s Center) and joined a group for people who write for children (SCBWI). I met two kindred spirits in a workshop and we started a critique group that has been meeting for ten years now. (They are the people who introduced me to Susan Cain’s book, so clearly it was fate.)

It was not a fast process — I took at least three workshops with nice people I didn’t click with and went to an uncomfortable conference or two before I found my zone. But since then I’ve extended my group of writing friends to just the right level – people I see occasionally but keep up with online, and who have helped my writing improve immeasurably.

Now that I’m typing all of this out, I can see it was pretty much the same thing that happened when I became a mom – also an isolating event, one that shook up the status quo and plunged me into another new world I had no idea how to navigate. Most of my friends hadn’t had kids yet, and it took longer for me to assemble another network of kindred spirits. (It was still 2 years BFB!) New lonely spells, more trial and error.

So I would certainly not say I’ve found the perfect formula for never getting lonely. But both of these experiences helped me figure out what I need, mainly by showing me how bad I feel when I don’t have it. I am happy with five or six hours to myself each day, preferably in big chunks, interspersed with family, friends, and “co-workers” (my writing friends). Working alone, in the quiet of my office at home, is key to that balance. It took me a while and it wasn’t pretty at times, but in the end, the loneliness was worth it.

— Kathy

Playground Politics

KathyLast week it rained for days and days. We forgot what blue sky looked like. Doodlebug went through severe bike-time withdrawal. I considered buying an ark.

There was one benefit, though – no playground time after school.

Playground time means other moms, and when other moms are around, you have to chat. I’m not such a fan of chatting – I like talking to my friends, of course, but none of them are at the playground after school. They’re at work, or in the kiss and ride line, or meeting their kids somewhere else on the school grounds, which means I have a choice: stand around looking at my phone or try to make conversation with people I don’t know very well.

It’s probably no surprise that I usually go with the phone option. But when I do, I always end up feeling like a middle-school kid eating alone in the cafeteria, shunned by all. This is one of the areas where my introversion and my shyness don’t play so well together – I do realize that, by talking to the other parents, I could get to know them better. If I knew them better, we would have things to talk about and I could avoid the dreaded chatting.

This is Doodlebug’s third year at this school, and all the parents I consider friends are also my neighbors, or the parents of Doodlebug’s friends, or both. In other words, people I see more than every once in a while on the playground. They’re people I’ve known long enough to have real conversations with.

They’re also my Facebook friends, mostly, which isn’t surprising – as an introvert, I’m much more talkative online. I feel weird friending people I’ve only talked to a few times in real life, though, so until I can boost my courage and take that step, I’ll be over by the monkey bars, checking the weather forecast.

— Kathy

Just Saying No

To paraphrase Mr. T, pity the introvert who signs up to be room parent. It’s that time of year again — read on to find out how the Moms handle those nonstop requests to volunteer at school.

KathyOn Monday afternoon I was chatting with another mom on the playground. “Are you going to be room parent again?” she innocently asked me. “You did such a good job last year.”

I’m pleased to report I did not run away screaming.

Here I must note that TEACHERS ARE AWESOME. I’m a teacher’s kid, and I absolutely understand how much time, work, and love the job requires. I want to support Doodlebug’s teachers and her school, and I have the flexibility in my schedule to do so. I like getting to know her classroom, the other kids, and her teachers.

But. But but but.

I learned last year that being room parent is a terrible fit for me and my personality. Doodlebug’s class actually had three room parents, but I ended up being the lead, which meant I:

  • Attended several PTA meetings.

  • Sent countless emails, only some of which were answered.

  • Collected and managed the funds for class parties and teacher gifts.

  • Planned and executed said parties.

  • Came up with ideas for and purchased said gifts.

  • Spearheaded our class’s Teacher Appreciation Week efforts, which included cards, flowers, and food.

  • Participated in a snowman t-shirt stamping extravaganza.

  • Helped 24 seven-year-olds tie-dye t-shirts.

  • Presented flowers to the music teachers after the play.

  • Made Valentine’s Day cupcakes, decorated melted snowman water bottles, and did something for Halloween that I’ve mercifully blocked out of my mind.

  • Procured bags and bags of candy for a gingerbread-house-making-fest.

Actually, now that I look at the list, I see a very clear breakdown of things I enjoy vs. things that make me want to hide in a dark room. Anything where I got to play with sugar was fun. Anything where I was with a group of kids for more than 15 minutes, not so much. Meetings, no. Organizing other people, dealing with money, paint? No, no, NO!

So I politely told the playground mom that I’d be taking this year off instead of screaming “Never again!” There are other, more introvert-friendly ways to volunteer at school.

  • Help stuff the kids’ take-home folders.

  • Make copies for the teacher.

  • Bring coffee and/or snacks to teachers or office staff.

  • Bake treats for parties.

  • Send in paper products for parties.

  • Volunteer to pick up teacher gifts, flowers (no presenting!).

  • Shop for supplies for crafts.

  • Send in money/t-shirts/other supplies when room parents ask. (Note for parents who aren’t able to help in the classroom – this is so much more important than you think! I was grateful for each and every person who sent in funds. And it was a huge help when people remembered to send in materials for craft projects.)

So this year will be different. At Back-to-School Night, I walked by the table full of volunteer sign-up sheets and didn’t put my name down for a single job. I’m going to wait and see what opportunities come up during the year, and I’m only going to choose ones I’m excited about.

NO TIE-DYE!

— Kathy

tiffany_head_128I have no time to volunteer. So I write checks. And respond in a timely fashion to PTA or teacher requests. And bake when I can. That’s all the mental energy I’ve got, people.

Don’t get me wrong. I love teachers and I admire and respect parents who provide material and physical support by organizing and leading activities. But I don’t think I am one of those parents. Even if I did have time would I volunteer for classroom activities? I like the idea of volunteering at school but let’s be real here: ONE seven-year old wears me out. A room full of seven year olds? Um. Would I get a week by myself in Bali to recover? Could I volunteer to reshelve books in the library after school hours? Because that’s about my speed.

I want to support Princess Slim as much as possible, of course, but for me, right now,  support means creating a home environment conducive to learning, emphasizing the importance of reading, feeding her healthy food, and making sure she gets enough sleep. And by loving her to bits for who she is. If I contribute bake sale brownies made from a box instead of from scratch it doesn’t mean I support her any less, nor does it mean I’m an inferior parent. This is what I can do right now. And you know what? Seven year olds can’t tell the difference between boxed and homemade anyway!

You’d think this would cause an Instaguilt™ flare-up. Fortunately it doesn’t thanks to plenty of therapy and the ability to say no;  in fact, the necessity of saying no. If you have a difficult time with the latter this article offers a quick and easy tutorial. I find the idea of a Resentment Journal delicious. Oh, the pages I could fill…

I make kick-ass from-scratch brownies, however. Just so you know.

— Tiffany