The Martin family has officially completed their move, short of a few random objects in the garage of the old house. Most everything is unpacked and I'm thinking that the onset of CALM should still be about 4 years away when Isaac starts school.
I was out in the (new) garage earlier this evening, just zoning out, looking at the hodge-podge of our life when my eyes rested on a metal twin bed. I thought about where it would go when Isaac was ready for it. It won't fit in Cassidy's room and they really shouldn't be sharing a bedroom at the age he'll be when he's ready to leave our bedroom (at this rate, I'm thinking 10-years-old). The boys' room is pretty full with the older three boys in there. I do have a craft room that I can share with him. I'm sure he'll enjoy that. So as I worked through all these thoughts, I continued to stare at the bed.
In a sudden, yet subtle way I started to feel sad, even a bit envious as I remembered my old twin bed. See, a twin bed represents solitude. It also only accomodates one person, at the very most two people. The longing, I believe, is because I do so miss that delicious down time that we all had as kids and teenagers. I'm talking about those hours spent on your bed daydreaming, reading, writing or listening to music. That delicious nothingness.
You didn't have to worry about a mortgage or rent payment, that was your parent's job. No worries about utilities, car payments, cell phone charges, or insurance fees. None of that stuff. If you did have a job, you knew that money was all your's.
And as I wouldn't trade my life for anyone else's, I still miss the time to daydream and zone out. During those times is when I become inspired to create (writing, mixed media, painting, etc.). I can't really remember the last time I really daydreamed or relaxed on the couch worry-free. I may have the opportunity to do so when the kids go off to play elsewhere, but then my mind is occupied with concerns over what they are getting into (usually mischief).
It would be easy, very easy, for me to chalk it all up to parenthood. So easy that when someone recently said, "Yeah, I don't know if I will have kids or not," I replied with, "Don't. I mean, don't have a lot of them. Or at least make sure you get some good time in for yourself in this life before you start living for others."
I went from being someone's teenage daughter to someone's mom in 9 months time and I haven't had the same quality sleep since the day before I found out I was pregnant with my oldest son. After his birth I lost all ability to compensate for my ADD. Once my mind became divided, the lion's share went to mothering. From my perspective, parenthood is a plausible suspect.
But I think that if I stepped away from the zoom lens of my life, I would find that all adults feel this pressure. All adults don't sleep as blissfully carefree as they once did as children.
Back to the twin bed---Yes, solitude is what I related it to but Phil and I have reached the point in our relationshiop where we can have shared silence, both of us in the same room immersed in seperate activities, neither one bothering the other. And I certainly would miss his presence if we slept in seperate beds (I think that sleeping in seperate beds may have played a small part in Lucy and Desi's difficult relationship).
In truth, Phil tries valiantly to give me the space and time I need to come back up to par: mentally, emotionally and creatively. But it's like the lyrics to Hotel California....you can check out any time you like, but you can't ever leave.
Yet....
I was curled up on the couch tonight and I realized that the older boys were off in their room, Cassie and Isaac were playing seperately, yet quietly next to each other in the living room with me. I closed my eyes, felt my body relax, a cool breeze sweep over me from the open window. In that moment it all seemed so divine and precious. It only lasted a few minutes at best, but if seemed to reset my attitude and state of mind.
I can be given the opportunity to think straight. But what I really need to do is notice and appreciate those sacred moments when everyone and everything just slides into a calm, beautiful center.
