Putting Facebook in the Corner

My normal routine is to get up at 5 and suck down coffee while reading email, Facebook, and my Bible study lesson, and then write or workout, depending on the day.  Then all the family wakes up and we all start rolling together.
On Tuesday this week, I was checking Facebook and before I knew it, I was feeling grouchy and realized I had just spent 40 precious minutes reading superficial accounts of my friends' lives.  I counted backward and tried to remember a time when Facebook had brightened my day, and it had been a long while.  It was time for a change.
I do see the value of Facebook.  I can keep all my friends and family near and far updated on our lives.  I can offer some love through electronic means to a friend who is depressed or overwhelmed.  I do use it for that, but when I allow anything to take up nearly half of my alone time and I don't feel better afterward?  It's time for a change.
I decided on a Facebook fast. So the rest of the day Tuesday and carrying on to Friday morning, I stayed off of Facebook. I had to have a few exceptions. Social media is my job at work, so without looking at the news feed, I updated our status.  I received an alert that my sister wrote me and I logged on to reply. A friend of mine invited me to her book club, and I needed to RSVP.  Other than that, I stayed away.
This morning I broke the fast and logged on. I decided that since I hadn't been on in several days, I would allot 15 minutes to reading the news feed.  After 7 minutes, I was done.  Of course there were updates that I missed, but I'm okay with that.
Adam and I choose not to have smart phones, so the allure of checking Facebook at a restaurant when real people surround you is lost to us.  However, we have WiFi in the house, and lately, I've found myself updating my news feed while I was cooking dinner.
I categorize and prioritize my activities into levels of life-giving and life-draining.  Making dinner in my beautiful kitchen with music playing and kids dancing is life-giving.  Stopping this to check Facebook is life-draining.
This week, I put social media back in the corner where it belongs.  It has some value in my life.  It has some life-giving aspects, but after stepping away, I realized that I had inflated the value.  Now it's back to a small corner of my life and I can spend more time on activities that fill me up rather than drain me.  I think I'll go read a book.

Measurements of Time

Throughout my life, I have constantly changed the way I measured time based on my life at the time.
Adam and I each have our own Google calendar which we started to use a few years ago.  Switching our family calendar into electronic form saved many disagreements and miscommunication.  At a glance, we can tell when the other will be busy and when we are committed as a family.
I currently wear a $5 watch and had a history of always wearing one until Paul was born and I quit work.  Becoming a stay-at-home mom meant I wasn't tied to a clock any more.  We ate when we were hungry, and went to bed when we were tired.  My alarm clock made sure I woke up in time to get Adam up, but in general, our schedule depended on what suited our fancy at the time.
Now besides the traditional clock which I have to use for work and school, I measure my time in chunks.  I aspire to wake up at 5:00 every morning and usually get there.  That means I have three 30 minute chunks before Adam has to get out of bed.  Lately I've used one chunk for running, one chunk for Bible study and the other chunk is taken up with housework, sleeping in, or checking Facebook.
Once Adam is off to work, we have a long chunk before lunch, the chunk of lunch, and the chunk between lunch and dinner.  After dinner it's baths, stories, and bed.
While my day is measured in chunks, my week is measured in other ways.
Every Sunday or Monday morning, I bake Adam double chocolate chip muffins.  Each one is stored in a plastic container, which I stack next to the kitchen sink.  We start the week with five muffins, and I always look to see how many are left to remind myself how close we are to the weekend.
Weeks are measured by trips to the grocery store.  Every two weeks when Adam gets paid, I plan a menu for the next two weeks and get all my shopping done.  I usually don't have to return to the store until two weeks later.
At the start of every month I change our air conditioner's filter.  Our month is measured by when I have to buy the filter and when I have to change it.
Currently we are also measuring time with boxes.  Since we're getting all our floors redone, each room has to be packed up in turn.  Our contractor should finish the kitchen floor today, so we can slowly start unpacking and will be 1/3 the way to a normal home.
I also measure time with laundry.  "Whew, that was a two load day!" Or "Man, I had so much time today I folded and put up eight loads!"
I am curious others measure time in unique ways.

Grace in the unexpected

Yesterday I lost my wallet and it was returned to me by two honest high schoolers and a police officer.
This morning we realized that yesterday I left Claire's scooter on the bike rack at school overnight and unlocked.  Adam immediately drove to the school and thankfully it was still there.
Claire needed allergy medicine and I couldn't find it and assumed that I would have to start searching through boxes.  Adam walked in and helped me locate it in the medicine cabinet instantly.
Claire announced she was ready to go to school but then I noticed she was wearing the same uniform as yesterday, complete with yesterday's stains.  After digging through 10 loads of laundry that are on our couch, we found the perfect uniform neatly hanging on her rack.
I overslept, but thankfully had planned for Claire to buy lunch today and I didn't have to make one.  Also, the coffeemaker greeted me with fresh coffee.
Right now, our life is chaos.  We still don't have new floors installed.  We may or may not have asbestos on the floor, or it might be stains from old asbestos.  We may or may not have to return all the flooring that is waiting to be installed and start over with a new contractor.
We have couches butted up against each other and all my cookbooks and many of my kitchen supplies are in boxes.  The coat closet lives on one of the couches. Another couch is against the wall and has become a major laundry collector.  It's all clean laundry, but there are no less than 10 loads waiting to be hung or folded.
Our kitchen table and dining room table are inches apart and we are unable to sit at one table like a family.  We have to sit caddy-cornered in different spaces along the edges.
My kitchen cabinets don't have doors and the ones that do are unpainted.  Painter's tape is a garland around the kitchen.  One of the cabinets is coming out of the wall and will need to be replaced or reinstalled.
It's just chaos, but it's full of grace.
We have some neighbors with a meticulous lawn.  They are both retired and spend hours each day maintaining their grass and flowers.  Recently the wife showed me her compost bin and rainwater barrel and how they are working to be more environmentally-conscious.  They have gorgeous flowers, but they have one that is my favorite.

This flower is growing in the street, right in the middle of the gutter.  Of course they didn't plant it there and it's a small mystery how it sprouted there.  But every day when I pass by this flower, I remember that love and beauty and grace will always come through the cracks in life.  That even when the street is determined to be gray and drab, this flower has other plans.  That no matter how overwhelmed I am at the moment or how absolutely insane the situation is, I am always surrounded by God's love.  Just as soon as I decide that I am failing or that I will decide to be grouchy or depressed that day, one of my kids makes me laugh, or I get a sweet email or a kiss from a dog.  Just as soon as I crack, a flower grows in the space.  

Clearing the clutter of my brain

I haven't written in a few days because my brain was just too cluttered.  This weekend we had a child who rotated between definitely ill to healthy as a horse.  Our air-conditioner went out; the capacitor broke.  Adam ripped out cabinets, new ones were delivered.  It was Mother's Day.  Then it was back to school and work and doing laundry and cooking and cleaning a bit at a time and drinking coffee.

On Monday I left chaos at home to go hang paper on walls again for testing at school.  I tried to use that as a time of spiritual reflection, but it's hard clear your mind and pray when you're fighting a stapler and a tape gun and the butcher paper keeps wrinkling.  Fortunately I completed my task early, so I was able to have an hour before Paul got out of school.  I spent that hour talking and starting to brainstorm for summer programs for church.

Monday night I had Bible study, which I love, and which I have decided is worth the effort to attend.  Everything has to be set in motion as soon as I pick up Claire in order for me to get out of the house.  We were doing well, but Adam got held up at work so I had to take the kids with me.  I decided it was okay for them to have McDonald's.  They don't have it very often, and really, what harm could one meal be?  So although I had a home-cooked meal planned and in the works, I allowed myself to drive through McDonald's for the kids.

Tuesday started just as frantic.  The dog keeps waking me up at 3:30 a.m. to go outside and I struggle to fall back asleep.  I refuse to get up that early.  So when I do get up, it's a little later than normal, but that's okay. Lunches are packed with food I dig out of boxes since half of the kitchen is packed up.  Claire got to school on time, but Paul wanted to spend a long time looking for a toy that starts with Z.  The closest we could find was Adam's He-Man toy named Buzz-Off.  Paul was kind of embarrassed it didn't start with Z, so even though he made a good show of going to take it, it stayed in the car.  Poor Adam was late to work because he stayed to help us search for a Zebra or something representing a Zoo.

Luckily my Tuesday meeting was short so I was able to sit in my office by myself for several hours yesterday, working, and I feel so much better.  I was able to put all the brainstorming ideas that have been floating in my head down on paper and create several informational flyers and announcement sheets.  I was also able to sit in quiet by myself.

Tomorrow morning our Home Depot pals will be here at the house to install our cabinets and life will slowly, slowly start making it way back to normal.

Here's what I've learned about myself when I'm this busy:

1.  I am discombobulated and have a hard time thinking in a straight line.
2.  I start forgetting important things.  Yesterday I thought I put my bag on my shoulder, but it's still sitting on my desk.
3.  I talk too much when I'm busy like this.  It's like my brain is too crowded and I have to get some words out.  I interrupt more and listen less.
4.  I'm crankier.
5.  When I'm this busy and distracted, I have almost zero tolerance for anything that's not on my to-do list.

It's not ideal, but it's where I'm standing right now.  This post isn't going to win any writing awards, but I am doing what I'm supposed to.  "Put your butt in the chair and write because you only have today."  Thank you, Anne Lamott.  I am also giving myself permission to not be perfect at writing or at life.

Life in Triage

In the book, I Don't Know How She Does It, the author compares motherhood to work in the triage unit of an emergency room.  Allison Pearson (the author) defines triage as "the degree of urgency to decide the order of treatment."

Some days I find that my life is like that.  When you need 48 hours in the day and recognize that there are only 24 and you must sleep for some of them, you have to prioritize.  You see what fire is burning brightest so you can put it out.  Other fires might be smoldering right under your feet, but you can't fight all your battles at once, so you pick the most urgent.

Yesterday was a triage day.  I had several urgent tasks to get done at work.  I had several urgent tasks to get done at home.  I had two kids to take care of and I had to meet Adam at Home Depot at 6:30 to pick out tile and grout for the kitchen and bathroom.

Our home looks like a donations warehouse right now.  This past weekend Adam scraped up the linoleum in our living room, so we are completely walking on the concrete slab, except in the bedrooms.  Our den and living room are a collection of boxes and the couch is living on a furniture dolly right now.  Yesterday Claire and I started packing up the kitchen only to find out the cabinets are three weeks away from arriving.  Today we will repack the cabinets.

This morning the dog woke me up at 4:00 and I just decided to stay up.  It's teacher appreciation week and after nearly two hours at Home Depot last night, I couldn't bear to bake anything.  The oven is currently preheating because the next urgent action on my list is baking chocolate chip cookies for all of our teachers.

The problem with living life as a triage unit is that if you're always rushing to the next emergency you don't have time to breathe.  Also, normal tasks start stacking up just because they aren't urgent.  Everything starts looking disproportionate.

I can survive this way for a maximum of three days without having a nervous breakdown.  After that, my world starts tipping off its axis and I am prone to cry at an untied shoe or other minor event.  So this morning, I am working the triage.  Bake cookies.  Clean kitchen.  Wake and feed children.  Get self ready.  Take kids to school.  Feed dogs.  Register Paul for kindergarten.  Take Claire lunch.  Pick Paul up from preschool.  Collapse.  Pick Claire up from school.  Supervise homework.  Supervise baths.  Make dinner.  Clean dinner.  Read stories.  Tuck kids in.  Collapse.

I am fortunate, though, that the older I get, the better I can anticipate triage, so I can plan ahead.  Today is the day I need to register Paul for kindergarten.  Today is the day I will get on my hands and knees and beg the principal/office staff/whomever to put Paul with Claire's old teacher.  (I'm making double recipe of the chocolate chip cookies to make sure I have enough baked goods to accompany my begging.)  Knowing ahead of time that it would be a crazy day and week, I took of work today.  That way I can get the triage taken care of, then have time to take a breath before I dive into the next emergency.

I am so grateful for the ability to miss a day of work.  I am so grateful I have a husband who can talk to Home Depot daily to organize our new floors and cabinets while I hold down the fort at home.  I am so grateful for two healthy, happy children.  I am so grateful for every little event that crowds my calendar today because it means that I am useful and needed.  I am so grateful that I have two unscheduled hours in my day today.  I am so grateful for life, even in the triage unit.

The Importance of Five Minutes

I recently read The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin. In it she talks about being aware of how much time everything takes in your day. It made me start watching how much time it takes my kids to do an activity.

I've noticed that five minutes seems to often be enough. They can sit down and play with something for longer, but five minutes seems to be the minimum for satisfaction in play. I had been in the habit of saying "No" often to a craft or activity idea, thinking that we didn't have time.

So now I ask myself, "Do we have five minutes?" The answer is usually yes. I do have five minutes to swing you before I have to send that e-mail. I do have five minutes to let you paint a picture. We can read that book for five minutes. Sure, you can play karaoke for five minutes.

I'm always conscious of being on time to the next activity, but even if I squeeze in five more minutes, we're usually not late. And allowing ourselves five minutes leads to more quality time together. The kids are happy, and so am I.