hermitage

There were a couple things I wanted to do this fall. Take another class. Sign up for the Mondo Beyondo Dream Lab. Train for another 5K.

But alas, with the kids' school schedule this year, I'm not able to commit to much of anything. And then there's the money factor. The kindergarten option we chose for Shout is AMAZING and FABULOUS and THE BEST THING I COULD HAVE DONE (more on that soon), but it is not cheap. Money CAN buy happiness. At least in kindergarten. There's also a slew of medical bills rolling in and a dead tree in our front yard that must be taken down, so for the first time pretty much ever, we are living on a tight budget.

It's actually a good exercise for me and I'm not complaining (at least not right now). But I can't spend any tuition money on myself right now. I'll catch up later, but I'm a bit adrift this semester.

I loved challenging my brain last spring. Learning something new and forcing myself to think and evaluate, memorize and conclude. I really miss using my brain.

So I decided to pick up the book, Writing Motherhood by Lisa Garrigues. I bought it awhile back and never got beyond the first few pages. (To much thinking.) I'm reading it now, a chapter a day, (if possible) and actually doing the exercises and suggestions. I'm not sure where it will take me, but I like doing it.

Last night, I was reading my chapter, and read this:

When our children are young, mothers naturally come together. We sit on a park bench or at the kitchen table, sipping coffee and swapping stories while we watch our toddlers play. As our children grow older and more independent, however, mothers become increasingly isolated.

...

As we disengage from the minute-to-minute watch of our children, many of us disconnect from other mothers as well, our relationships reduced to quick phone calls to arrange car pools and sleepovers. Sometimes we go for weeks without seeing another mother face-to-face.

I was struck by how much this defines my life right now. So many of my friends have either gone back to work or moved away. I'm not a playgroup mom anymore. I'm not part of the stroller walkers anymore. I can't hang out on the preschool plaground. There's always somewhere I need to be.

I do have friends. But they are doing the same thing I am. Supervising homework, driving carpools, washing sweaty sports uniforms, dashing from school to school. I saw two friends at the grocery store yesterday, but none of us had time to chat, we were in a mad dash to get the groceries before school let out.

In some ways, I feel like a hermit. Even more so than when my kids were little. Back then, if I needed some conversation, I just hauled everybody outside to the front yard. Eventually someone would walk by and talk to me.

But there's no time now. My kids can play outside alone. I am inside checking algebra homework, spraying Febreze on smelly hockey equipment, dictating spelling words, sending emails and trying to figure out what to make for dinner.

I feel like the universe has spun off without me in it.

So I was glad to read these words. It's not just me.

So the assignment for that chapter was to plan a Playdate. For me and my friends. Get out and talk to other adults and do something that nourishes my soul a little bit, even if for just an hour or two.

Funny that I had already done just that. Tomorrow, I break fajitas with friends. I'm jumping back in, universe! Even if just for a couple hours.

It's my homework.