It’s theme time again. Once again Beth over at Total Mom Haircut is hosting a theme blogging event. The latest theme is Simplicity. If you’d like to participate (and I strongly encourage you to do so) then head on over here for the rules. You have until January 5th, to get your post up and to Beth.
And now for my take on Simplicity …
I have never done anything the simple way. Simplicity is just not in my nature. I always take the hard, complicated route to everything in life. I tend to over-complicate everything. Big will verify this. He’s always telling me that I make things more involved than they need to be or that I go way overboard.
Let me explain. I don’t just do laundry. Nope. Laundry is a drawn out art form for me. I not only separate clothing by colors but also by temperature. So, at minimum I have at least four loads of laundry on any given day that I think needs to be done – light cold, light warm, dark cold, dark warm. That’s not counting towels; all of which get washed by color making a grand total of at least three to five different loads of towels depending on how many we’ve used. I would say that at least 70% of what I wash gets hung to dry. I can’t just throw things in the dryer like most normal people because I worry about shrinkage and prolonging the life of the clothing.
When I host an event that involves food I go nuts. I usually cook enough for about five times the number of people that will be attending. I take great pains to make sure that I cover the preferences of all the guests. It’s exhausting just thinking about what I put myself through. If it’s a holiday or special event then I up the ante by either pulling out the Lenox china or in less formal times finding pretty paper plates and accessories that match the color theme or mood of the event.
I’m one of those people who waited until the night before a major paper was due before I even started it. There is nothing simple about staying up all night writing (or in my high school and college years typing on an old typewriter) whatever thought came to mind. There were lots of middle of the night tears and drama and more stress than there should have been. Somehow I always managed to finish in the nick of time. By this I mean I finished exactly at the moment I needed to shower and get to class. Yes, I usually got an “A” but it would have been so much simpler to have started when the paper was assigned and taken several weeks to organize my thoughts and actually have time for rough drafts and revisions.
Then there is the chicken pox incident. I couldn’t even do that simply. My freshman year of high school I was one of many to get chicken pox. But unlike my other classmates who missed maybe a week or two weeks of school and had no scabs or scars left upon their return, I apparently got the super-strain of the virus. I broke out for seven whole days. From my knees on up there was not a spot on my body that was not covered in pox. Even my father who wouldn’t get alarmed if your arm was cut off was a bit worried about the way I looked and shocked that every time he came home from work there were more lumps on his daughter. My mother felt so bad for me that she kept me out of school for three whole weeks because I was too scary looking and uncomfortable once I scabbed over. Even after three weeks I still went to school with dime sized scabs in various visible places that grossed out my classmates. I have several scars to prove I did indeed have chicken pox. A dermatologist looked at the scars about six months after I had supposedly healed and told my mother that there was no way I had picked the scabs to make these scars. The virus was just so deep in me that they were meant to leave scars. Sunbathing would bring out red dots in every place that I had had a pox scab. It took a whole year for that phenomenon to stop happening.
So what I am I driving at with all these stories you’re probably wondering? Well, I’ll tell you. I am a woman who never seems to have simplicity in her life but who longs for some of the simple pleasures that motherhood has mostly obliterated. In a world that often gets far more complicated than I’d like it to be I am rediscovering the simple pleasure of enjoying small moments. Here are some of the simple things I wish happened more often:
The chance to sit quietly with a cup, or two, of coffee and be alone with my thoughts.
A whole day and night to do nothing but read.
The opportunity to run errands with no time limit.
A few hours alone with my husband.
A day to hang out with a friend without feeling guilty or like I should be some place else.
The joy of watching a movie that I want to watch.
My own bed all to myself … maybe this will happen someday when Shorty finally decides that his room is not scary and Big goes out of town. Oh, I can just imagine the simple luxury of sheets that are not twisted and wrinkled and don’t have to fight to keep on me.
A few hours alone at home to crank up the music of my choice as loud as I want and to dance with no one watching or snickering.
A meal that involves no threats of time out or negotiations.
And last but not least, the chance to smell a freshly bathed infant as I nurse him. (I’m hoping this comes true again someday for me, even if it means that I’ll have to wait longer to experience the already mentioned items.)
I can’t think of anything more simplistic than those wishes. I love motherhood and my son to death but there are moments when the simplicity of being unmarried and childless sound like heaven to me. Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t trade my life for my single, lonely days but oh how I miss some of those simple pleasures listed above.
Thanks again to Beth for allowing me to think about a life of Simplicity.