Musings of an Introvert

I think part of my problem is that I am never alone. Not really, truly alone. And being alone, for me, is energizing. It gives me the strength to get through the days. Quite honestly, just a little bit of alone time (for the record, driving home does NOT count, I hate driving, even if I’m alone while I’m doing it) gives me energy for weeks even months. But lately I don’t get enough to get me through these days.

My husband is an extrovert, he loves people. He gets his energy from going to auctions and being surrounded by people and haggling over prices and that sort of thing would make me crazy.

I realize that it might seem weird that a self-proclaimed introvert would be an over-sharer such as I am here on this blog but let’s remember, I don’t actually have to see any of you. I don’t have to talk to you face to face (or even on the phone.) I can write my thoughts here and then come back later to see if anyone responded. And imagine my joy when someone does. Wheee!! We’re communicating and yet I didn’t actually have to see you. I love that.

And that makes me sort of sad that I get such a thrill out of something that allows me to limit my face time with actual people.

Yet my family and my job (ironically, I’m in HR of all things) give me plenty of face time. So much, in fact, that I long for an hour or seven to myself. Just to wander around the house without someone wandering so closely behind me that if I stop, she slams into my butt. (I won’t name names but hers starts with an O and ends with livia.)

I adore my children. I love them with all that I am. And I want to be the best mother I can be to them, which means I need my time and space to myself, even just fifteen minutes each evening after they’re asleep, when I can play Castleville on Facebook or read a trashy novel. Or yes, even take a hot bath without someone sitting beside the tub using my water at a play ground for her horses. Again, I won’t name names but this one’s name starts with an A and ends with lyssa.

I’m not always a grouchy bitch, mind you. This morning, in fact, I was quite pleasant during our morning routine. Of course, it helps that I managed to slip out of bed without waking Olivia and was actually in the shower when she woke up, which means I got my fifteen minutes of alone time first thing this morning. Oh my goodness, you can’t imagine how much better this morning went because of that. Or maybe you can. But my mood was so, so much better just because I didn’t have someone asking me, “Carry me?” the instant I rolled out of bed with my aching back and my groggy eyes. Instead, I’d already washed the grog out of my eyes and the ache out of my back before she wandered into the bathroom. It was lovely to be able to be pleasant and loving to her instead of bleary-eyed and grouchy.

Obviously, I need to schedule some alone time into my days. I can’t count on every morning being like the one we had this morning. So I need to figure out when I can be alone, recharge so that I can be the mother I want to be, the mother and wife I can be when I have given enough back to myself that I have something to give to all of them.

On a much lighter note, one thing that made me laugh yesterday even with the grouchiness and the lack of alone time first thing yesterday morning was that O missed the bus yesterday and what was supposed to be Daddy driving her to school, even if late ended up being an absence from school. The reason for said absence? Poop.

Let me explain. It wasn’t due to a poopy mess. No. It was because about five minutes before the bus was due to arrive she announced she needed to poop. What’s a mom to do? I put her on the toilet, handed her a magazine and told Tom that he probably be taking her to school because, hello, she doesn’t always go right away even with all the right equipment (see: magazine above) at hand.

I walked Alyssa to the bus seven minutes later and O was still sitting on the toilet.

On my way to work, Tom called me and suggested I call the school and let her teacher know O would be late.

I had been at work for forty-five minutes when Tom called again and asked me how long he should let her sit there.

I asked, “She’s still trying to poop!?!”

Yes, she was still sitting on the toilet! Poor kid. I told him to put a Pull Up on her and let her run around. That usually does the trick. He then suggested I call the school and let them know she wouldn’t be there. I asked what I was supposed to give as the reason for her absence. He suggested, “Poop.”

Poor baby never did poop but she sure did enjoy that morning off school. She followed her dad around with her little piano, serenading him with the attached microphone while he packed items that he was shipping out.

So there you have it. Alone time and absences due to poop sort of make my day. Huh… the little things really can make my mood better. I need to remember that the next time (five minutes from now?) I’m in a funk.