Monday, August 29, 2011
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Monday, August 8, 2011
Scattered
Dear Scarlett,
You are determined to destroy your bedroom, my bedroom, the kitchen, and your general surroundings. I don't think you consider it destruction, though. It appears to be your own brand of organization; I just wish it didn't mean everything we own ended up scattered on the floor. When left to yourself, you can be found pulling all of your books off their shelves, unloading your clothing drawers, and decorating the floor with stuffed animals, balls, and crayons, which you later trip over. In a rare exception, the other day when I walked into your room, I saw that you had pulled yourself into the rocking chair and were casually reclined against the boppie, pretending to talk on my cell phone.
But when you're not making calls, you are a hurricane. Dad, Aunt Lizzie and I all try to maintain some order, but even when we each straighten up your books three times a day, we can't keep up with you. I find spices and cat food cans in my nightstand, stuffed animals in the spice rack. Books and books and more books spilled across the floor, stuffed into couch crevices, and hidden behind your book shelf. It's mayhem.
I got a massage yesterday, which was delightful. As soon as I stepped into the lounge area, with its comfy seats, fireplace and hot mint tea, I felt myself breathing a little more smoothly. And then, as I sat there, an odd thing happened. My mind (which has been jumbled with thoughts of work, upcoming trips, preschool applications, dinners, swim lessons, and unanswered phone calls) began to organize itself. And it looked to me just like the floor of your bedroom, all of the items magically flying up and locking into the right drawers and compartments. Suddenly everything I was trying to balance seemed a little more manageable.
Last week in my sales meetings in New York, one of the publishers was talking about this phenomenon. Taking quiet time to yourself--not listening to music, or reading a book, but really just sitting and being in your own mind--can reorganize your brain. It's literally necessary to help yourself think more clearly and efficiently. I must remember this.
It was satisfying to feel like the toybox of my mind was packed up with the lid closed for a while. It would perhaps be equally satisfying if your room stayed clean for one 20-minute stretch.
Just something to think about,
Mom
You are determined to destroy your bedroom, my bedroom, the kitchen, and your general surroundings. I don't think you consider it destruction, though. It appears to be your own brand of organization; I just wish it didn't mean everything we own ended up scattered on the floor. When left to yourself, you can be found pulling all of your books off their shelves, unloading your clothing drawers, and decorating the floor with stuffed animals, balls, and crayons, which you later trip over. In a rare exception, the other day when I walked into your room, I saw that you had pulled yourself into the rocking chair and were casually reclined against the boppie, pretending to talk on my cell phone.
But when you're not making calls, you are a hurricane. Dad, Aunt Lizzie and I all try to maintain some order, but even when we each straighten up your books three times a day, we can't keep up with you. I find spices and cat food cans in my nightstand, stuffed animals in the spice rack. Books and books and more books spilled across the floor, stuffed into couch crevices, and hidden behind your book shelf. It's mayhem.
I got a massage yesterday, which was delightful. As soon as I stepped into the lounge area, with its comfy seats, fireplace and hot mint tea, I felt myself breathing a little more smoothly. And then, as I sat there, an odd thing happened. My mind (which has been jumbled with thoughts of work, upcoming trips, preschool applications, dinners, swim lessons, and unanswered phone calls) began to organize itself. And it looked to me just like the floor of your bedroom, all of the items magically flying up and locking into the right drawers and compartments. Suddenly everything I was trying to balance seemed a little more manageable.
Last week in my sales meetings in New York, one of the publishers was talking about this phenomenon. Taking quiet time to yourself--not listening to music, or reading a book, but really just sitting and being in your own mind--can reorganize your brain. It's literally necessary to help yourself think more clearly and efficiently. I must remember this.
It was satisfying to feel like the toybox of my mind was packed up with the lid closed for a while. It would perhaps be equally satisfying if your room stayed clean for one 20-minute stretch.
Just something to think about,
Mom
Friday, August 5, 2011
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)