Straddling two selves

Many who attended and relished #BlogHer15 are writing now of reentry. Of recovering from the fatigue of being "on" during the conference (even though we certainly wanted to be just that) and dealing with long trips home. Of feeling somewhat misplaced, no longer in a community in which there is a sort of shorthand and a great deal of acceptance and understanding.

In one of her summations, I think my friend, Alexandra Rosas of Good Day Regular People, said it best: "You don't want who you are when there, to disappear again."

I am lucky to have many good friends and a family with whom I am close. I belong to two writing groups that nourish me, and as an at-home mom, well, suffice it to say that I'm not lacking in the quality-time-with-my-children department. I'm active in my community, and I feel I give back regularly to it. And, my cat. Enough said.

So what's tugging at my heart right now? What feels slightly off-kilter even in the midst of all this richness?

It's that the "me" I am when I'm there doesn't often feel possible when I'm here. In the three days since I returned home, I've felt the there me constrict dramatically. It's visceral at times, the sense of being pushed and pulled from a large room in which I bloom and breathe easily into a tiny one, down the hall and to the left, in which the air must now be shared by many. The sense of disappearing.

In that cramped chamber, as I make lunch and ice bruises and listen to that infernal Gummy Bear song, I hurriedly scribble ideas and desires onto any bit of paper I can find, hoping that when finally –but when?- I unearth them once more, they will still mean something. That I will be able to summon the spark of creativity, of insight, of depth that birthed them and find the time to lay hand on pen, pen on page. That I will tease from my clues, the message I wanted to share.

In many ways what is powerful about doing things like attending conferences is that it legitimates claiming time and space. "I'm registering, paying, traveling and will be learning" feels valid in a way that "Kids, I'm gonna go write for a while now. Cheerio!" sometimes doesn't. I think it should, but it just doesn't. 

Nor is it all that feasible. I don't know many parents whose kids truly entertain themselves for hours on end, even if they're allowed to go full zombie with a screen. Something will run out of batteries, someone will fall, a fight over Legos will surely ensue, never-ending hunger will need to be fed. Likewise, I'm an at-home parent for a reason: to stew in the wonder of loving, tending, guiding and remembering. And, apparently, to be beaten in Battleship by these two kiddos. 

Please note that Oliver is dressed as wonder woman but also has voldemort's wand within easy reach. he is always both sides of the coin. hah!

It takes time to really think through something and then craft a piece about it. It takes time to consciously read a good book or magazine, to ingest the words rather than skimming them so distractedly that they never enter one ear, much less leave the other. It's lovely to cook a dish without worrying if I inadvertently added a cup of salt instead of flour because I was also filming a Magna-Tile explosion. 

Alone time is any parent's rarest commodity. But it is in that time that I not only remember who but also pursue and refine all that I am beyond Mom, and so it is especially precious. 

My mother asked what my favorite part of Big Boy Week was (the annual week that the boys spend in Louisiana with her and my dad). Without hesitation, I said, "the luxury of being on no schedule. Of being able to be spontaneous. Of being able to let responsibility go. Of being able to open myself up to myself, and to see where that takes me."

I love my children with something that must approximate feral instinct. And yet.

Like a brilliant, low-slung moon sinking too quickly into the horizon, I feel there me receding into the folds of memory. Even though I wouldn't trade the sources of this dilemma for the world, the frizzled middle sometimes feels agonizing. How to live in both worlds, as a friend wondered. How indeed.

Reentry in the raw: 3 important ideas worth consideration

In addition to BlogHer conference recaps, one of the most popular memes flooding Facebook and Twitter is the experience of reentry. Or, readjusting to normal life as it is beyond the inspired confines of 2,000 women giving themselves time to connect -with self and others- and focus and learn. The fact that this is such a common thread is, I believe, indicative of three important things worth consideration:

• Many women do not generally feel that they have time to pursue and deeply cultivate the passions in their lives that are their very own. Children, marriages, jobs, other familial responsibilities like elder care ... in addition to the chores of daily life consume, often greedily, the limited time and space there is. We frequently must - literally - register for something and go away to enjoy such time for ourselves (the officialness of registration validates the going). When we do, it's as if we've found ourselves in an oasis of rejuvenating self-care. Leaving that can feel both jarring and difficult.
• Many women do not, in their daily lives, feel they have a network of camaraderie and support like the one they encounter at conferences like BlogHer. To be certain, one of the primary reasons I felt so inspired after leaving San Jose was because it's rare to experience, for two-three days straight, the message that not only should I be bold, live boldly and do both authentically, but also that I am appreciated for doing so.

  Many women spoke of finding their tribe; I don't feel that I left with a new posse of support (though surely that's nice and would be appreciated). But, both last year and this, I met one woman with whom I really connected and will stay in touch, and I encountered and learned from a number of role models whom I will follow and continue to gain inspiration from. That's exceedingly meaningful and important and exciting.

• Many women do not, on a regular or regular-enough basis, feel the degree of stimulation, illumination and verve they do when immersed in a community of generally like-directed folks, e.g. bloggers, despite the diverse topics explored in their individual blogs.

This last point has been the toughest realization I've had since coming home. Was I happy to get back and see my family? Of course! Have I been able to maintain the lightness of being I felt in CA? No, not really.

I found my path to writing via motherhood. I finally unearthed that thing that makes me tick. And while I imagine finding that before becoming a parent and then having to figure out a way to balance it after the fact is a difficult and lengthy process, it's a different kind of bittersweet challenge to discover a love and never feel you really have the time to do much with it. It reminds me of friends who met their partners later in life and felt the need to immediately have children because of the timing; they desperately wanted their babies but also would have loved a bit more time to simply enjoy couplehood.

For me, reentry isn't just the fact that I'm no longer on a single girl schedule. I mean, that is lovely, and boy did I sleep well! It's also, and here the ache sharpens, the realization that some of those big ideas and bullet points and starred notes in my BlogHer notebook will have to remain just those things for now. Ideas and goals versus to-dos that come to fruition in the greenhouse built on thoughtful attention and commitment over time.

Does motherhood light my heart on fire? Regularly, yes. When one of my boys slips his warm little paw in mine, I want to hold on forever.

Does motherhood stimulate my mind and drive me wild with enthusiasm? Not nearly as often. The daily constancy of minutiae that feels both critical and inane is terribly wearing and sometimes dulls and dampens my spirit in discomfiting ways.

And the gap between those two is equally vexing. How can I feel so besotted and suffocated?

What I came away with after BlogHer in 2013 crystallized more permanently this year: that while my experience of motherhood is more challenging than it may be for others, that doesn't make me a failed mother or a failed woman. It means I'm human and that this job is a hard one for me, even though I'm good at it. When I think back over how energized I felt in CA, I'm reminded that limits are smart and there is no sense in draining myself in pursuit of someone else's conception of the A+ Mother. I'm hard enough of myself without those externals, thank you very much. I owe it to my family to suffuse myself with the happiness and support I give them. I owe it to my boys to model a fulfilled and happy mother/woman as best I can. And I owe all of that to myself, too.

And that is a nugget of authenticity of which I am boldly proud!

Camp, general awesomeness, AROMO

Since we returned from the beach, I've tried to see one friend each day; I'm not at 100%, but overall my hit rate is terrific, and it's been such a treat. This is yet another way that I'm working to better balance life, making time for leisure in addition to work, prioritizing myself in addition to my family and responsibilities.

This week has been really good for me and for the boys. Their longer hours away are just enough that I can get things done and take a load off and feel rejuvenated when they return. It's reminding me that balance, for all of us, is good and wise. Speaking from my experience as a stay-at-home mom (others have their own challenges!), it's so easy to get into a groove that shouldn't be and/or put others before self, to struggle with maintaining an identity and passions separate from those within Mom. I hear this refrain from many others, friends and readers, too. That I have another three weeks of this schedule feels very luxurious, and I am realizing anew the value in trusting my maternal instincts.

As I alluded to on Monday, I initially registered them for this day camp without hesitation. It receives rave reviews, and I loved the idea of them being immersed in nature, outside all day. I wanted them to get dirty, meet a whole bunch of new friends, play with farm animals and be far, far away from electronics. Most basically, I wanted to push them just enough in ways I knew they could be pushed, to expand their comfort zones and senses of what they can do. The confidence and independence and new experiences they're amassing right now are invaluable, and I can see, every day, how good it all is for them.

When I spy them rounding the bus aisle and heading down its stairs, they look tired in the great, healthy way one does after spending hours playing and sweating and learning outside. They are filthy too, their bodies, clothes, lunchboxes and water bottles coated in all manner of earthy detritus. They sing silly ditties and prideful anthems-  164! The bus you can't ignore!- and I find myself recalling the summer camp tunes I once sang with equal enthusiasm. They talk about new pals, new games, new knowledge, shared laughs. They are really, really happy.

Several people seemed flabbergasted that I'd signed 5-year-old Ol up for this camp because of its long hours, bus ride and so forth. But I think I felt him ready and this to be the sort of experience he'd cotton to immediately. Though I didn't take them as judgments or anything, these reactions did give me pause -had I misjudged? erred? was he too young?- and I believe that hesitation constituted half of my nervousness Monday morning.

Balancing your own and others' senses of what kids can/can't/should be able to do or handle can be a really challenging part of parenthood. When should they start eating solids? What type? When should they be potty-trained/talking/reading/writing? Questions about diet, bedtime, manners, habits can seem very fraught and you realize just how personal, in some respects, they are.

At the end of the day, most of us just try to make the best decisions we can based on who we know our children to be and how best we believe our family will function. And that's why it's so important for us to trust ourselves. To seek advice when we don't know and to act confidently when we think we do. I am so incredibly thrilled for the boys right now; both say they want to go back all summer next year. And frankly, I'm really thrilled for me too.

During the hours I've spent making jam this week (made my apricot-peach almond yesterday; it is TO DIE FOR; now's the time, folks!), I've thought about the concept of having "a room of one's own." Virginia Woolf was talking specifically about the space a woman needs if she wishes to be a writer, but the brilliance behind her idea was how encompassing it is for most everything women need in order to feel fulfilled, as women and all else they are.

I recalled that a friend once joked about the playhouse in our yard that the boys never use, "You should turn that into your own spot." This "playhouse" is a seriously top-shelf playhouse. I know because I paid for it myself -it's flipping cedar and came from Canada- and built it with Tom. It took a week, a hot sweaty, middle-of-August-in-DC-which-was-built-on-a-swamp-and-boy-can-you-tell week. We were beyond excited to show the kids, and two years in, I think they've gone in there about 8 times.

www.em-i-lis.com

So, without informing the munchkins, I have, over the past several days reclaimed the little house as A Room of My Own. I've moved everything out, swept it clean, put in a portable air conditioner and an old chair. A small, cheap desk is on order, and I might spring for a little rug too. Sure, it feels vaguely doll-house meets Alice in Wonderland, but it will be my spot when I need one, a literal delineation of the figurative one I often crave: to write, to think, to remember that my needs are as important as theirs and T's and the pets and so forth. Cool, huh!?