Lamenting Lost Solitude

During my high school years (eleven to eighteen) I went to a boarding school.  I thoroughly enjoyed the experience, but living with a few dozen other girls in one house means that you don't get much alone time.  Early on, I learned where the nooks and crannies were, the places you could go when you just wanted a moment to yourself.   In my first boarding house, the bathrooms had high windows with a wide stone sill, which were set behind the door.  I must have scrambled up to that perch dozens of times, not to cry or hide in particular, but to sit and think in a place where I was unlikely to be bothered.

The great thing about boarding school was that there was so much company available that it was unlikely somebody would be seeking yours out in particular, so solitude was obtainable if you desired it.  As a middle-class mother, I have ample rooms to disperse myself and the children in, but my company is highly coveted, and solitude has become a commodity rarer and more valuable than diamonds.

This is obviously not something unique to me; it's standard parenting procedure.  Going to the toilet with an audience (and sometimes audience participation) is par for the course.  Having a few toys or activities in every room of the house is a common tip.  And, obviously, clinginess is desirable in general, since you want your child to stick near you when you're out and about.  Never mind the fact that my children are usually quite happy to go off on their own when we're out of the house.  Perhaps it's a reverse psychology thing; should I insist on holding their hands while we're in the house too?

However, I'm an introvert.  One of the reasons I blog is because the spoken word isn't something I'm comfortable with.  I do enjoy talking with friends and I definitely need a sympathetic ear on a regular basis, but I will eventually find conversation wearing.  When I've got something preying on my mind, I usually need to get some time to myself to think about it in peace and quiet.  Or I'll need to write about it.  In those moments, I hate being disturbed... I'm not good at switching focus.

I've accepted that this is something I have to sacrifice for the sake of having my children, and to an extent, I've learned to take my introspection while cuddling a child or to have my switch off moment while reading aloud.  I'm guessing that the transition from my presence being necessary to my presence being unwanted will be shockingly brief, and I want to cherish this stage while I have it.

Yet sometimes I quietly fail at dealing with it.  Like the past week, or so when colder weather has brought with it sore throats and congested noses.  None of us have really been sick, but my daughter and I have definitely been scratchier than usual, and she's been incredibly clingy.  I don't know whether that's due to the change in sleeping arrangements, or because she's feeling lousy, but what I do know is that I've spent a good proportion of my time wandering around in frustration with a toddler glued to my hip and preventing me from doing anything I want to do.

Of course, my son hasn't outgrown the wanting my company stage either, so I'm just as likely to be trailed around by him babbling away as only a three or four year old can.  I was always petrified of this verbal diarrhoea stage, but it hasn't been as draining as I expected.  Partly because it's worryingly easy for me to zone out when he's talking.  My son has a habit of yelling "Speak!" at me, since I ignore him without realising I'm doing it.  It's a huge guilt trip.

I should be more capable at this point really.  I can do lots of things one-handed, and as a woman, I am supposed to multi-task as a matter of course.  Nevertheless this past week I've been tired and inclined to headaches, my mind is taken up with a million and one things to keep track of (Christmas!  Birthdays!  Flood damage!  Survivor!).  The weepy toddler is enough to keep me from focusing.  The weepy toddler and vociferous child is a devastating combination.

Suffice to say the housework is suffering.  It's incredibly demotivating when there's a child wailing into my knees.  Either I stop to soothe her, or I keep going and am slow and ineffectual.  Then I get stressed, and because I'm stressed, I want a moment to myself.  Because I want a moment to myself, my daughter gets insecure and becomes more clingy and I become more stressed and hello, vicious circle!

At the end of the day, it's up to me to break that vicious circle because I'm the grown up (darn it).  Besides, one way or another, the house has got to be clean and tidy for my son's birthday party this weekend.  So I'm pushing through, and trying to resist the constant temptation to slip away from the children for a moment of peace.  Unlike love, it's better never to try for solitude than to find it and lose it again.