Disjointed

photo by wallyg
 
This is a picture of me.  
 
Not really, it’s a picture of Picasso’s girlfriend, Jolie.  See her?  She’s holding a mandoline?  Promise, she’s in there.  This is how I feel like I look on any given day of the week.  Trey would say I bring this on myself, and he’s partly right.  You see, I like to do things.  I like to stay active.  I look forward to the days that I have something specific to do, like drive to a lake to look at a boat, or go to the zoo, or even meeting some friends for lunch or volunteering at Monkey’s school.  Simple things, big things, doesn’t matter as long as it’s not housework.
 
The problem lies in that I end up feeling like I’m overwhelmed and pulled in several different directions.  The housework, for example.  If I miss even one day, it piles up and I start to feel overwhelmed.  I think I’ve mentioned that I don’t like to clean.  But I do like the peace I have when it is clean.  Catch 22.  
 
I read a post last night about slowing down.  It spoke to me on many different levels, but how does one who likes to be active go about slowing down?  I’ve lost my quiet mornings due to having the puppy to take care of, so what about my quiet evenings?  Bedtime used to be easy.  7:30.  That’s it.  Now I’m fighting the “get back in bed” battle every night and by the time they’re asleep, I’m whipped and there’s nothing left in me for relaxing.  Little Man doesn’t nap anymore, not really, so I’ve lost that mid-day quiet time.  Oh, I know!  I’ll put him in front of the TV!  That’ll give me quiet!  But then I have guilt for being that mom who uses the TV as a babysitter.
 
I have to say, this post originally started out as one big pity-party about how busy I am and how badly I manage my time.  I deleted most of that even though it was all true.  Why?  Well, you don’t need to read a pity-party – that’s no fun.  But also because after this morning’s trip to the zoo, I realized that it’s all just “stuff” and I shouldn’t sweat the small stuff and that it’s all small stuff.  Sure, I still have a to-do list a mile long.  I’ll probably spend more time worrying and trying to figure out everything that I have to do than actually getting it done (because I have poor time management skills), but that’s me. 
 
Today, I found quiet time sitting in the shade watching Little Man play while we were eating lunch or watching him dig in the sand.  I found quiet time strolling along talking to my friends while the horde of children we brought with us stormed on ahead.  I found time to stop and read a little while sitting in the parking lot of Monkey’s school, waiting to pick her up.
 
Disjointed?  Sure, I still feel disjointed.  The above is still a pretty good self-portrait, but you know?  It’s me.  That’s how I roll.  I like to stay busy, but I have to find those quiet moments, somehow.  That’s when you start to see the girl in the painting playing the mandolin.
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2 thoughts on “Disjointed

  1. Hi Kool Aid: I think pockets of slowness like those you describe in your post can be a good way to reconnect with ourselves and with our surroundings. That was very clever of you to compare your state of mind to the Picasso painting. I’m pretty sure I saw a nose and a mandolin.

  2. Sometimes I get so bogged down, it’s hard to find those pockets of slowness, but once it a while they hit me over the head like a brick :).

    Thanks for the comment on Picasso, too. It doesn’t get much more disjointed than that!

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