Wednesday, January 26, 2011

Confessions of an absentee blogger

There have been a few times lately that I've sat down and started a blog post about silly things happening in the barnyard or my late-night knitting bouts or my new obsession with alpaca wool, but after a few lines, I'd always hit ‘delete.’ The words came out sounding false, forced and lifeless. I’ve been reading too many blogs lately, and other people's posts are invariably more interesting, moving, eloquent or hilarious than anything I’ve been able to come up with.

So here’s my dirty little secret: I'm suffering from a serious case of writer's block. Well, it’s not exactly writer’s block – it’s more a sense of having absolutely nothing to say. I have no trouble writing about other people’s lives for work, but when it comes to my own, the well is looking pretty dry. It helps that I've got a part-time editing gig that keeps part of my creative brain cranking away. That's what's been keeping me so busy this past six months of radio silence. Well, that and I've become somewhat derailed.

It began last September when Ella started grade one. It was a day that I'd been dreading for most of the summer. Each time we talked about going back to school, her big blue eyes framed with long dark lashes, would fill up with tears and she'd say to me, "But mama, I'm going to miss you." And every time, she broke my heart a little bit more.

You see, when Lucas and I decided to have kids, the deal was that I'd stay home with them. I'd finished post-grad journalism school in April, was pregnant by May and interned at a magazine until two days before Jack was born. I'd work when I could, but my main job was one of "mum." That was nine years ago.


My freelance writing work load was fairly steady, though there were crazy times that I'd clock lots of late nights after the kids went to bed and too many weekends. Money was tight, I was always juggling and it was exhausting and often frustrating. There were dark times when my fuse was especially short, when I couldn't wait to have "my" life back, whatever that looked like. But then I’d chide myself with the reminder that this time home with the kids was so short.

Jack was the first to leave the nest five days a week, starting grade one the September after we moved to the farm.


After an intense summer of spending all our time together as we explored our new home, and our new lives, he was suddenly gone from Monday to Friday. I'd walk him to the bus in the morning and pick him up at the end of the drive at 4:00pm, but for seven hours each day, his world was foreign to me. I knew this was a part of growing up and letting go, but still, it felt like a piece of me was missing.

My consolation was that I still had Ella at home. She, too, would ride the school bus, but only attended kindergarten on Mondays, Wednesdays and every other Friday. I would have the day to myself -- to work, to get chores done -- and then we would have her off days together. But life gets messy and there were days that I'd have to work when she was home. I still never seemed to have enough time in the day and the burden of "mummy guilt" weighed heavily.

But two years of kindergarten passed quickly and this past September saw them both away at school. Surprisingly, to me at least, when D-day came it was something of a non-event for the kids. As Jack was entering grade three, he was an old pro at this full-time school thing; Ella just wanted to be like her big brother.


After a bazillion photos, hugs and kisses, they trooped off down the driveway with their dad, climbed the big steps to the school bus and were on their way, waving madly out the window before turning their backs to chatter with their friends.



Like a scene out of a B grade movie, I watched the bus pull away and only when I turned did the tears start spilling down my cheeks.


I braced myself for some kind of aftershock once the novelty of "back to school" wore off. I still ache with the memory of sitting on the edge of Jack's bed while I rubbed his six-year-old back, trying to console his desolate sobs while I gently explained that yes, he did have to go to school every day of the week now.

He had it harder than Ella: he was the shy new kid at a rural school where everyone has known each others' families for generations. He got through it and today, he's got his own tribe of school chums.

But Ella never went through that: she embraced school as she does most things -- with enthusiasm, exuberance and joy. Perched at the kitchen table during after-school snack time, she'd tell me stories of what she'd done that day. To any onlooker, I was the quintessential proud and smiling mother, but deep inside there was this pit of loneliness and disorientation. I had "my" life back. Five days a week. And I was lost.

I knew all too well the dangers of the empty nest syndrome. I vowed not to be one of those parents who lived their lives vicariously through their children. I'd model parental devotion as well as interest in my own life through writing, farming, cooking, yoga, crafting -- whatever. That was the plan, at least.

When I'm busy being busy -- those days when I've got so much work to do and the chores are overwhelming and I need 28 hours in the day to get everything accomplished -- then I'm ok. Well, not really – I’m often grumpy, strung out and frazzled. But lately, during the quiet of winter when much of the farm sleeps under a thick blanket of snow, when I'm forced to slow down and come face-to-face with that insidious question -- what happens now?—that’s when I get derailed.

I'm sure most folks would shake their heads and tell me I'm wasting my time with such preoccupations. I'm blessed to send my kids off to school and be there at the end of the day. I'm with them on field trips, snow days and we'll drive each other crazy during the long eight weeks of summer.

I know what I have to do. It's time to get off my duff and stop thinking so bloody much. Seize the day, be here now, be the person I want to be in the world, and all that. But it’s scary. It feels a bit like starting over, reaching for that next monkey bar without someone there to catch me if I fall. I’ve spent the last nine years preoccupied with the needs and wants of these two wonderful, and often demanding, little people; now I’ve got to start thinking of my own needs and wants.

It’s no longer a case of asking them, ‘what do you want to do today?’ I’ve got to start asking myself that question. It's just harder than I thought it'd be; that's all.

Phew! For all of you who made it to the bottom of that monster post, kudos! I feel remarkably better getting that off my chest. I'm even getting some inspiration for a new blog post on... wait for it... knitting my first sock! I'm living on the edge out here...

5 comments:

Amy Lagerquist said...

You go, girl! It's so good to have you back, Fiona. I can relate to feeling like I have nothing to say...that was me most of the summer, until I spilled what was really on my mind. I still haven't found my rhythm or the time to blog as often as I used to (although I do set a weekly goal of 1-2 posts per week...haven't really fulfilled that yet!), but at least I have ideas of things to write. I just have to do it.

Enjoy your time!!

Erin said...

No, the dreaded mommy guilt! I completely understand all of it! I enjoyed my boys being home because it gave me such purpose and an incredible realization that everything they learned, they learned it from me, or with me... until school! Know this, you ARE having a huge impact on them still... my mom went back to work when I was 10, but I don't remember that very well - even now every time I think of my mom I think of her being home with us my whole childhood, I think those formative years meant so much that it made up for any absence later. I'm so glad to see you blogging again, your soul needs to let these thoughts out for your own good, instead of always writing for others' objectives, like work. It took me awhile, but now instead of feeling left out during the day, I relish their new independence and realize that we are a step closer now to being able to have some really nice family times hiking, camping, etc without having to worry about all the little things and equipment that little kids need LOL! I'll stop ranting now, and thanks for another photo of lovebug Henry, how is he doing?

Mama Pea said...

Your post, Fiona dear, was (as usual) extremely well-written in all ways and deserves to be published in a parenting publication.

When I read something, I think it's natural that I relate it to myself, my own life, my own experiences. In doing so, I have a niggling suspicion I was not a good mother.

When our daughter first went off to school, I breathed a huge sigh of relief believing I just might be able to find a little time for myself. That didn't happen for many years probably because we were, at the time, living without grid power or running water and had a multitude of animals and land we were trying to reclaim as productive both as field crops and gardens.

I truly envy your current feelings of "empty nest syndrome." I don't know what else that would come from other than having thoroughly enjoyed and participated in your childrens' early formative years.

I suspect you're simply in a transition period. Be patient and gentle with yourself. Your children are off to a wonderful start to the next phase of your lives . . . and I hope that soon you will be, too.

WONDERFUL to see you posting again. You've been missed. Hugs!

David said...

I'm just a guy so my perspective is a little different that from Mom's point of view.

From the moment we first see the little squirming bundle under the blanket we are letting go. The first time they sit up by themselves, the first time they crawel or walk their dependance on us becomes less. The first time they get dressed by themselves and begin to take care of their personal hygiene our involvement becomes less. The first time they sleep over at Grandma's house or a friend's house they learn that being away from home is OK. Even though our jobs as parents is to one day let them fly and be independent our hearts ache to keep them home as the little bundles under the blanket that we have so grown attached. It's harder for Moms I think because they are more involved with daily needs. When it's all over it just may take a few months to really know what you personally even like to do because of being so in tuned to the needs of the children. I know it took me almost a year to figure out what my likes and dislikes were when the kids grew up and left and the wife passed away. I made it through the rough spots and so will you. I think it's just a natural process because we love them so much.

Have a great blogging day and thanks for comeing back.

laura said...

Oh, Fiona, you are so much braver than you know. I had my kids home 24/7 since we homeschooled, but all that did was delay the inevitable. When my daughter married and moved away it was devastating to me. I did not know how not to have her with me. So, be glad that you are learning now how to be a new you. Glad that you shared your heart with us, and as always, know that it strikes a chord and makes all of us see things a little more clearly.

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