I am pretty sure that my dear husband would tell you just about the funniest thing I ever told him was that I thought I was an introvert. He nearly spit in my face laughing at that one. My response was to burst out laughing with him first, and then try to explain what I meant.
If you know me in real life, you probably chuckled at the whole Sarah’s-an-introvert-idea. I get it. I have a ton of friends and I know more people who live around here than I probably should. I do—for better and for worse—jump in to help people, and what I’m truly best at, because it’s just the way I think, is putting people together in myriad ways, like finding babysitters or tutors or even houses. I have that talk-to-so-and-so thing down pat and I’m also a brainstorming type of thinker. As a result, I do interact with folks a great deal, ones I know well and ones I don’t know well, both.
So, here’s what I meant: I really do crave quiet (and yes, I have four kids, which means I kind of blew that one). Thursday morning, for the first time in nine school days (but who’s counting?) all four kids were in school (until 12:30). The tiny sliver of still house with only writer stirring about was one of those most gorgeous things ever, up there with the velvety sheen on a lake at six in the morning or the expanse of white before anyone ventures outside after a big snowfall. I worked, sure. I also just gulped in a little peace (I was beginning to feel like Mrs. Large in Jill Murphy’s fabulously funny and achingly true Five Minutes’ Peace, in which the elephant mama desperately attempts to carve out a moment to herself—to no avail; I’m putting the link to the English version, because I love “you lot” and other proper English phrases so very much).
And also, I’m a homebody. My pal, David, was shocked, stunned, and maybe happily surprised to see me at a party on Friday night (what’s more, once Saskia was sleeping, the three boys were on their own sans adults at night, a big first!). He was even more put out when I didn’t leave early. Now, he and I both acknowledged that it helped that the party was a stone’s throw from home (and I am unbelievably fortunate that my some of my best-of-best friends and beyond that so many folks I genuinely adore live a stone’s throw or a stone’s throw-plus from home; if I were stuck in my ‘hood, I would never be lonely or bored, seriously). I don’t mean to be a homebody, I just am. I was always that way but no question when four creatures I love more than I can say live in the home, it’s that much more appealing (except, you know, when you would do anything for quiet). But I err on the side of be-kind-of-around mama. I don’t go out much at night. I might be busy earlier but I do tend to be present at bedtime.
**
With all that said about homebody tendencies, I’d spent Thursday evening with my ersatz mamas’ group—we’ve been getting together since our shared-age kids were in third grade and they are in high school now, big gulp—and, as pretty much always is the case, our conversation roamed and sometimes roared with laughter. The shared terrain of the sandwich generations has such possibilities for meandering conversations: we’re tethered to teenagers and parents and jobs and pets and heartaches and ch-ch-ch-changes and all those unexpected opportunities that seem to tumble toward you by this point in life. Our group has a name: MOTE, as in Mothers on the Edge. It should have a tagline: Been riding the edge for seven* years.
After two nights out, Saturday afternoon I found myself in a circle of people embarking upon a strategic planning process for Treehouse Foundation. In a nutshell, Treehouse is about changing the conversation—and reality—of foster care in this country. That’s the lofty, big dream piece. The reality is that we met in the common space for a multi-generational community that is organized around children, who’ve been in the system and are moving toward lifelong families. Call it a tiny piece of dream-coming-true.
So, with ideas flying around my mind and the excitement of having connected with many new or almost-new folks with huge, wonderful minds and hearts and the unexpected pleasure that one of my favorite folks to work with pretty much ever has also committed to this process, I took one hour to walk quick into town (where I enjoyed my GoBerry very much) before spending an evening with two of my favorite girls: Saskia and Arella.
It turned out that we really had a girls’ night (two middle boys at a party; elder two at dinner with booksellers). There were apples, cereal, nuts and lemon cookies, stickers, tussles over Angelina Tumble Ballerina, a lot of going in circles (literally), two small girls peeing in the potty, one pooping there and one pooping in a diaper, and four stories. By nine, one girl was asleep in her crib and the other asleep in Remy and Lucien’s bed.
I’m going to two events today (help me, help me, deep breath!) and the truth is there is a take-home message: even an introvert benefits from the energies of others—other ideas, warm, loving people, laughter, not-quite sleepovers. I know this is a vast oversimplification: but really, an open door is key for open minds and open hearts.
*Seven may be slightly inaccurate
