Finding an Itty-Bit of Zen

You know how most people look forward to the weekend. Time off. No work.  I sometimes have mixed feelings.  For me weekends mean running around juggling my children’s sporting events, laundry, cleaning up my house, only to have my kids make more messes, grocery shopping, planning and cooking three meals a day...  And all five of us at home, together, in one house, under one roof, grating on one another, bickering, fighting, yelling, screaming.

It’s not that I don't like my family and want them around, but all that time together begins to wear on us all and my children deal with by nit-picking and arguing.  So if they aren't completely engaged every minute, as I try to clean or do something for myself, they come unglued on each other and I feel like I am constantly refereeing.

My husband helps break it up, but he doesn't seem to be bothered by it to the extent that I am. So often he will just ignore it.  Mental-me on the other hand, well I just get fed up and lose it.  I start parenting with volume which make the entire situation sooooo much better. Right.

With cash shortages of late, we can't afford to go and do as much, so we are at home more.  Trips to the park and bike rides are good, but they often end in melee too.... you know, "I want to lead first!" "No, you led first last time!" Yada, yada, yada.  My beloved progenies never seem to tire of the same dialogue.  If he says it black, she says it white, just to be oppositional.

Once my voice is horse and raw and I concede to the fact that hollering just isn’t working, well I go and hide.  In the past my M.O. has been to lock myself into my bedroom with ten baskets of clothes, watch TV, fold and pretend I couldn’t hear them.

But I COULD still hear them and when my dearest hubby (I do really love him) was doing great at the ‘I don’t notice it’ game, I would come out and shriek from the top of the stairs to break up the latest brawl between my lovely offspring.

It’s not like a secret or meant to offend anyone, I just get OVERSTIMULATED after 12 hours of this gig.  Wouldn’t anyone?  Doesn’t everyone?

Here’s exactly what I mean.  All five of us are on our way to my oldest Da’s volleyball game this past Saturday and Max and Sara just can’t keep it together for the 15 minutes it took us to get there.

“Stop making that noise.  Stop it.  I said stop it!”

“It’s my bored noise.  I’m bored and it helps me not be bored. I can’t help it.”

“Please Sara just stop. OK.  You brought your DS so play with that and we’ll be there in a minute,” I interject.  Under my breath I clench my teeth and say, “for F-sake.” But it doesn’t stop there. Oh no. We still have at least four minutes  left of our drive, so my chicklets are just too industrious to let that go to waste.  Though it takes a turn, the intensity builds.

“Stop touching me.  Stop it!  Stop it! Stop it!!!! Move your feet!!!!”

“I’m not doing anything.  I can have my feet here.  I like my feet here. I’m not touching you.  It was an accident.”

“No it wasn’t!  Move over!!!”

And then the sound of flesh being smacked, followed by fake crying.... OMG! I can’t take any more.... It isn’t like they didn’t do enough of this this morning before we got in the car and didn’t I specifically asked them to ‘GET ALONG’ when they got to the car.  But noooooooooo... we can never just have a peaceful drive.  It is so draining and it is only 10:40.

I make a dying wish out loud that school be seven days a week instead of five.  But no one was listening to me go into melt down mode.  And believe it or not, it was the same spiel all the way home, but this time all three got involved.  Somebody was looking at somebody or someone was singing badly or breathing... I don’t F-ing know. I was so done and so glad that we didn’t have to make any stops on the way back.  I needed to distance myself from the stereo broadcast behind me.

And that is just what I did.  But instead of my bedroom and the joy of wrinkled garments, I retreated to my new little Zen corner.  During the New Year’s weekend, I organized and compacted my master closet so that I could create a sewing room for myself.

In the past I’ve had to set up my machine on the kitchen table.  I didn’t bring it out unless I had a huge stack of mending or an in-depth project.  Which meant that it would be there for days sometimes weeks.  We would eat around it and shift my pile this way and that until I was done. I have always wanted my own creative space and with the lack of an extra room in my home, I carved one out of my closet.

I don’t really have that many clothes, i.e., no budget and I live in work out attire.  So I smooshed all that together.  And Jerry has less than nothing when it come to things that get actually hung up so I took some of his allotted space.  I created a built-in table top from scrap wood, painted the walls a bright white, and added an outlet through the existing light fixture.  I bought a clip-on lamp for target lighting and put up some Paul Klee art work that I printed from the internet.

 

The final touches included a chair which I purchased from a second-hand store and recover with fabric I already had and I ordered an ironing board that will hang from the back of the closet door.

I actually think it turned out pretty good for three day’s work and very little investment.  See what absolute focus and neurosis can motivate you to do.  Although it is itty-bitty,  it is clean, sparse and calming.

Best of all... I can’t hear anything from the rest of the house when I close my bedroom door and the closet door! And they can’t hear me, so it does no good to yell.

And because it is so new, they don’t think to look for me there.  Oh, it is all good.  All good.