Tuesday, May 20th, 2014
3 years, 6 months.
Yes, that’s me. Those are my feet sticking out from underneath all of the couch cushions and accent pillows in our living room.
When that picture was taken, I was in somewhat of a meditative state; not simply because my oxygen supply was being fairly limited, but also because it was sort of relaxing in there.
In fact, I had no idea Mommy even took that picture until I was going through the picture folder on my flash drive yesterday, looking for a something else.
Sure, I heard what was going on outside my world of pillows:
“Hey Mommy! Daddy’s all covered. Look at Daddy. I finished his cage now.”
Then I heard your footsteps as you approached me. I saw a small opening appear between the pillows, with light coming through.
“Here you go, Tiger. Here’s your food!”
Apparently pet tigers like to eat (plastic) snakes.
This routine has become the norm. I can see why.
It allows you to completely make a mess and get away with it, as you pretend you are building a cage for your Daddy, who happens to be a tiger.
I really don’t mind it at all. Like I said, it sort of gives me 12 minutes or more of time to just zone-out on the living room floor.
With a schedule as busy as mine, I typically don’t make time for zoning out… other than when I’m running or sleeping.
It’s not so much a desperate attempt to make time for myself as it is me trying to multitask:
By being your tiger in a cage, I can spend quality time with you; because to you, I’m playing.
And I can rest my mind for a little while; because to me, being buried in a “cage” of pillows is actually relaxing.
Yes, that’s me multitasking. It’s Daddy in his… quiet place.
Keep your kids busy with these chore guides.
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Tuesday, July 23rd, 2013
2 years, 8 months.
This morning I witnessed you doing something bizarre, something I’ve never seen you do before.
You and I were playing in the backyard when your cousins walked up. Immediately you put your head down and made your way over to a black pipe connected to the wall.
It’s not that you were pretending to be stuck. Instead, you just covered your face and didn’t say a word.
Even with your cousins trying to engage you, you remained a statue.
I couldn’t quite figure it out.
When you finally moved, you simply repeated the action at the screen door.
It’s not that you were angry, upset, or unhappy in any way.
You just didn’t want to socialize.
Trust me, I can relate! In order to function, I have to have a couple hours a day with no one around; which is why going on vacation with family can be challenging for me too.
So truly, I know what you were going through, now that I think about it.
What else could you do, as a toddler who claims to never be tired, and refuses to rest other than when he is forced to?
How else could you communicate with me that you just needed some time to yourself, without having to go somewhere to take a nap? You didn’t need physical rest.
What you needed was social rest.
You and I have that in common. We’re highly social, highly verbal people who need designated time to just zone out and mediate without someone or something interrupting our thoughts.
I get it now.
Next time this happens, I’ll try to accommodate somehow; maybe by taking you on a walk.
That’s why I enjoy writing, reading, and biking in my spare time. It’s a means of recharging from human interaction.
Whereas the total of two hours of driving we usually do when we’re not on vacation gives us that “zone out” time, we aren’t getting that regularly this week.
So while your behavior this morning did seem pretty weird, now that I’ve written to you about it, it totally makes sense.
And that only further exemplifies why taking a social break is a good thing sometimes.
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