Staycation

It is 4:14 in the afternoon, and I am sitting on my deck drinking a glass of wine (hey, it's 5 o'clock somewhere--and I'm on vacation!) and reading. It is a beautiful, sunny Thursday and 2 of my kids are watching a movie, one is playing at a neighbor's and one is fast asleep (I may pay for that later).

And I am doing... whatever the hell I want. And I have been all week.

Of course, it isn't quite so simple. Of course I still have 4 little ducks who still need meals and mothering, and a daddy duck who is not a big fan of my idleness and keeps coming up with "ideas" for what I can do. But in general, I have been very obstinately attached to my little stay at home retreat this week.

My company "shuts down" for 2 weeks every summer. When I first started, the notion that I save 10 cherished days of vacation to spend when the business told me to was completely irritating to me. Who were THEY to tell ME when to use my time off? I have since converted and, more, have completely fallen in love with this lazy two week stretch of summer.

In my real life, I am truly trying to slow down. I know that my general circumstances (4 kids, full time job) do not lend themselves to a gentle pace, but I truly want to try. I'm really tired of racing from event to event and activity to activity, always slightly behind schedule, always screeching at little people, never slowing down to smell the roses (which is actually okay since I never had time to plant any and never remembered to water the ones I did). But you catch my drift. I don't think it is good for my kids to see me so stressed out and hysterically checking things off of my bajillion lists all the time.

But in fairness to my life choices and my big wonderful family, part of this is just who I am. I once had to make a resume in gradeschool and listed over 30 families that I babysat for. In college I played 2 sports, worked 3 jobs, served as student body vice president, and ran about 5 or 6 other clubs. I mean, I am pretty high capacity. I've worn a wrist watch since I was 9.

But things have started to feel a bit frantic, and that's not good. I'm not trying to articulate some kind of mundane "I need ME time" here, because my career gives me a place to flex my brain and my bossiness, as well as providing a place where I can go to the bathroom alone and be reasonably certain that no one will try to put their fingers in my drink. My family is my heart and my soul. Home is my place to love and be loved--and with so many little ducks I am never lacking for affection or attention. My husband really is my soul mate and still makes me laugh and tingle. I have enough of what I've always wanted to never forget how very blessed I am...and I lack enough of what I've always wanted to get up every morning and continue to dream. I'm in a good place.

But I'm BUSY. And for all that I LIKE busyness, I also am longing to open up some cracks into which some spotanaeity and, I don't know how to put it--some dreaminess, more prayer and spirituality, more thinking. Something. Just some minutes in my day that are open to... whatever.

And I'm also trying to be less of a spastic multi-tasker. I mean, certainly the dishes and laundry are enough to bring the combined offspring of Martha Stewart and Hulk Hogan to her knees. But the kids are growing up and can certainly take some of that load (one of these days), and their rapid growing makes me realize that they won't be here, in my home, in my arms, forever. And for that, I owe them more of my full attention. Claire has taken to saying, "Mommy, listen. Mommy look. Mommy--LOOK IN MY EYES" to ensure that she has my full attention. I don't want them to look back on these growing up years and remember a mama who was always racing from sone thing to the next, and who was always the first to pull away from their hugs.

So, this last week or so, I have very deliberately done nothing. I have not worn my watch. I have not set an agenda. I have slept in. I have not scheduled a thousand fun "activities" which generally required shopping, planning, scheduling, and screeching. I have not watched what I'm eating and have not exercised except when the whim struck me. I have planned supper around 4 o'clock each afternoon (as opposed to my usual week and a half in advance). Instead, I've just let the days come and go with the easy, thoughtless rhythm of the tides. One morning, we sat outside under my pergola and put together a puzzle. Yesterday afternoon, Gracie and I played monopoly with a neighbor while I drank a glass of wine just because I could. Today I went out to lunch with Chad and then I took a nap with Claire on the couch. This morning I took Sammy to Target with the only planned purchase being those weird "crazy bands" that are all the rage in the gradeschool set right now. It has been lovely.

I'll be ready next week to go back to my routine and my job. Part of me wishes this lazy life could go on and on, but I know that this is no one's reality, and, if it somehow happened to be mine, I would quickly grow bored (or at least fat and poor). And I have to admit that it has been a bit of an inner struggle to keep myself from trying to cram stuff in ("I can do all the kid's doctor's appointments for the next year! I can clean the basement! I can write a novel! I can solve world hunger!") and just to chill.

I've never been a huge fan of the "staycation". From my perspective, if you are going to burn your precious vacation, you should be out DOING something, SEEING something, TRAVELING somewhere. But instead I stayed here, with the 5 people I love best in the world, in a home I adore. It's been one of my favorite weeks ever.