Seasons of Extremes

Last week, I went to the grocery store at bedtime.  Not my bedtime; the kids’ bedtime.  I wandered the aisles slowly.  I read labels on the facial creams in the organic section.  I compared prices between bulk and prepackaged items.  I was all by myself with no agenda other than getting away from home.  For that short window, nobody needed anything from me.  It was restorative.

As I savored the quiet, mostly empty store, I remembered times in the past when I had done this very same type of wandering.  Back then, I was single and living alone.  Sometimes I’d stop at Fred Meyer on my way home from work to pick up something for dinner.  I’d find myself putzing, taking way longer than necessary to get what I needed.  I was delaying my impending evening of solitude as long as I could.

Life has these seasons of extremes.  It’s hard to fathom how, in the space of a little over four years, things could change so radically.  In the time before marriage and kids, I was at peace with singleness and even enjoyed living alone.  However, with that, there also came periods of intense loneliness.  Some days, I physically ached from it.  Touch of any kind – hugs, a hand to hold, even a good old fashioned pat on the back – was a rarity.  People in my life cared about my days, but I had no daily, physical representation of it.  I just came home to quiet.  On the weekends, it didn’t matter when I got up or what I did.  I could tackle my whole to do list or I could eat jelly beans in my undies all day.  No one would know. 

On the night when I went to the grocery store at my kids’ bedtime, it was because the first words I said to my husband when he got home were, “I am at my limit with touch and noise.  I need to get away.”  I’ve entered a season where someone is constantly touching me – cuddling, kicking, scratching, nursing, licking, clinging….you name it.  Naptime is my only space of total quiet, and that’s not a guarantee.  I used to read Facebook posts where moms begged to go to the bathroom alone.  I thought that was crazy and now I understand.  I don’t write these things to complain, but to explain.  

I know what it is to ache from solitude and I know what it is to feel crazy from never being left alone.  Extremes demand incredible strength.

It’s here that I must become vigilant about my thought life.  When it’s been too long since I’ve had a break and I’m feeling the pressure, what am I telling myself?  If you could see a ticker tape of my thoughts on paper, you’d definitely see a pity party:

I’m trapped in motherhood…  Nobody knows how hard it is to hear crying and whining all day… I never get to do what I want to do… I never knew having kids could be so hard… 

Those thoughts are choking out my joy.  I’m not going to make it with that kind of gas in my tank.  I’m asking God to help me cut those thoughts off before they sink in, to change what I’m telling myself about this season.  To renew my mind with His thoughts about it:

I’m so grateful that Jeff has a good job that provides for me to stay home with our boys… I love my sons and I love our home… If I need a break, I have friends and family who will help me… I am a strong mom, I can do this… 

The extreme seasons will probably keep being tough, but I think they can also start being good and happy years too.  Plus, there’s always a grocery store open when I need a little respite.

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