Post-Thanksgiving funk

Along with most American women, I spent the good part of Wednesday in the kitchen prepping for Thanksgiving.  I taped the list for the two days on the cabinets and enlisted some help from the kids, just a productive day of cooking and dishes.  Same with Thursday.  Although nothing to write home about, it all turned out fine.  But it did all kind of make me a little tired.

Friday Todd was up at 4:30 to go hunting.  Which means I ended up just getting up as soon as he left, too close to my normal time.  So I exercised at 5:30 and was ready for the day when the kids got up and were getting ready to go snowboarding/skiing.  They had a frightful drive, sliding and slipping down the mountain; they just couldn’t get up and had to come back, so sad.

But by this time I’d dragged all the Christmas boxes from the garage, maybe twelve 18-gallon totes.  Not a lot by some standards, but it took longer than you’d think to get get around the piles in the garage.  I had a huge mess on my hands by the time they got home a couple hours later.  Piles of greenery and lights to sort through, everyday decorations to pack up for the season, and candles and nativities to remember where I’d put last year.  But the kids came home giddy, energized, ready for a day out.  They wanted to go shopping and to lunch, but the kids had one of their favorite cousin-friends along, as well as their brother from college.  I knew as a mom I would just get in the way of their fun, plus I hate shopping for no good reason especially when it’s crowded, and the last thing I felt like doing was eating out. I was feeling a little overwhelmed with the shrapnel everywhere, the dryer wasn’t working and needed some attention, and I had a couple Christmas projects I wanted to work on. Besides, the 12 of us would be gathering again that night for dinner and I hated the disarray the house was in. I had planned in my mind a day at home to do Christmas stuff, uncover the kitchen from all that cooking, get caught up on all the laundry, and maybe even get to my quilt or puzzle.  I just didn’t have it in me to fight crowds, to deal with the materialism out there, or to eat fast food.  I was admittedly torn though.  Of course I want to be that kind of mom and friend.  But I paid attention to how I was feeling and knew it would be ok this once to take a step back and let the kids just go have fun on their own.

And today we did it all over again; the kids are all back up the mountain, Todd left for fishing long ago.  And I’m home to putter all over again.  Which is fine, I actually love a sink full of dishes and tidying up.  I love the whole house to myself.  It’s calm and quiet and I can do whatever I want.

But I found myself a little grumpy last night and it’s carried over to this morning.  I know my emotions are really just my thoughts and so I’ve been trying to figure out what’s going on.  Maybe a couple of things.  I feel a tad bit resentful that everyone else is off doing something really fun and different from everyday life  and I’m left behind to pick up the pieces, the shards of breakfast, lunch makings, and dinner from the night before, just like regular life.  Todd asked last night if we were going to get out all the Christmas stuff.  To which I told him I’d just spent the whole day decorating.  Sigh.  But I tried to be positive and point out that we didn’t have the tree yet and so it’s hard to tell, it would make a difference once we did that.  Good grief.  I was also thinking of my 17 year old daughter who is very aware of women’s roles, especially in the family. And I wonder what kind of example I’m setting for her, that I’m just staying home helping everyone on their way to a good time.  Is that all she thinks I’m for?  I also think deep down I’m embarrassed by how un-fun I am in traditional ways, that I don’t have anything interesting to contribute to conversations about what we did over the weekend, and that I’m so easily amused and content with cleaning out a closet while listening to a podcast.

But then I thought, Caren, let’s be honest.  You hate snow sports.  And the cold. There’s no way you’d go hunting or fishing all day.  You hate shopping (unless you have a purposeful list).  And besides, you actually love puttering at home.  You like decorating for Christmas on your own listening to your music, you like getting the dishes and laundry done, writing, and having time to think.  You’re really into your quiet home life, so why are you disgruntled?

I didn’t know.  So I asked myself what I’d like to do all day if I could just play.  And I immediately thought of writing.  I love, love, love to write.  And I can never think straight with a house full of commotion, so it’s perfect to do on a cold wintry day all by myself.

Except it makes me a little sad.  And unmotivated.  Because I wonder what the point is.  No one but my mom and like two girlfriends even reads what I write. Why do I invest my time and heart just to throw it to the wind and have it disappear into the cyber-world abyss?  And yet I know it’s ok that I just get some practice in and that it’s none of my business if people don’t read it. It can just be for me, I get that; I just need to be ok with that.

It’s just that I wonder what my identity is.  Not always, but occasionally on weekends like this.  Do I have hobbies, talents, loves, or possibly even abilities that define or describe me?  Or am I just a mom and a friend who makes things pleasant for other people while they go about pursuing real life?

It’s still early in the day and in my questioning, and so I’m not sure.  But I’m having a couple of thoughts for myself.  Continue to embrace what you love.  You truly do enjoy making things nice for your family and your friends.  You like keeping things running smoothly and it makes you happy to provide a home where people gather and feel comfortable, you love seeing your friends and family enjoying a home cooked meal, chattering and laughing.  Admit that, be ok with it.  And then take things a little further.  What else would you like to do or be?  You have a choice to make more of yourself, you’re not stuck with who you already are.  And so work on your writing and sewing, but try something new (we talked about cross country skiing as a family—something I’ve enjoyed), volunteer in different, uncomfortable ways (something I actually looked into yesterday while I was eating my sandwich—yikes!), and find some activities that speak to you.  Become the person you want to be, don’t assume this is all there is to you.

So that’s my pep talk to myself this morning. I’m loving the hum of the dishwasher, the swishy sound of the clothes washer, the freshly-vacuumed rugs, the tidiness of a put-together house.  Of course I derive joy from such things, that’s genuinely who I am.  So instead of feeling resentful or sorry for myself because I’m here and they’re all out there, I choose to remind myself of that. But as I putter, I’m going to be considering other possible enriching ways to spend the rest of my time.

I know this is mostly just for me, but I wonder if there’s a lesson in this for all of us.  How often do we look around and tell ourselves we’re missing out, we’re not that kind, we could never do that, we’re not good at that?  I heard a little rumbling like that from my two daughters as they were prepping for their ski day.  They have very little experience, and one confided she hopes she does ok and doesn’t embarrass herself.  To which the other consoled, no one can see her under all that stuff anyway so it wouldn’t matter.  I’m just proud of them for trying something new-ish, for being brave, for getting out of their comfort zone.

And I guess that’s something we can all reflect on.  Are we truly stuck in a job we’re not crazy about, hobbies we’ve just had because our parents liked them, an identity that everyone knows us by but feels a little stifling?  Or can we change, can we do something different, can we at least entertain the possibility?  I guess that’s where I’ve come to this morning.  Yes, keep the parts that work, the hobbies and elements of your life that are serving you, but maybe consider that there might be more.