It’s one of those weeks: Drew is gone so Sam and I are by ourselves for a couple of days. We all get along when it’s the three of us, but when it’s just me and Sam, somehow we fall into a different rhythm: slower, quieter, more… something. We stayed in our PJs all morning yesterday, ate breakfast in front of the TV, played on the floor, didn’t nap… It was a perfect day, right until the evening meltdowns started, fueled by the time change, the lack of napping, and possibly the large amount of leftover Halloween candy we both ate.
I am by myself a lot these days. I work from home full time, so even when Drew is home I spend many, many hours during the day alone. Some days it’s hard to stay motivated, but most days I have to admit I can barely wait until I can drop Sam off at preschool and I can head home by myself. I love puttering around by myself in the kitchen: unloading the dishwasher, planning dinner, and then settling down at my desk to work. I love the bursts of energy I get from my family, from spending time with my friends and colleagues, but the slow, constant burn I get from being alone is crucial for my sanity.
I remember when Sam was born I felt horrible about wanting to be alone all the time. I wanted to be by myself, but also, more than anything, I wanted to be with him. These two conflicting feelings tugged at me and made me feel pretty horrible. Then my mom actually said something that made me sigh with relief. She told me that I was an introvert raising and extrovert. Being an introvert, someone who gets her energy from being alone, of course it was exhausting to constantly be with another human being—another human being who was clearly not an introvert—yet. I still remind myself of this every time I feel bad that I get giddy on my drive home from preschool alone, especially after a long weekend.
But what I love the most is that lately I’ve been able to be alone WITH Sam. It happened this weekend—Saturday was an ugly, rainy day. Drew hurt his neck, so he was in bed for most of the afternoon. Sam and I had to run to Target and to get him to come along I bribed him with a vanilla bean Frappuccino. (I know! He is a hipster child!) So there we were, sitting at Starbucks, sipping our drinks, looking at the rain and the people coming and going around us. We sat there for a good hour, not talking much. He was so content, and so was I. “I love this, mama,” he said. “I love sitting here with you.”
I know buddy, so do I.
Zsofi Writes 
As a fellow introvert, I can relate to much of this. Especially the giddiness at the prospect of a long stretch of hours alone. Interestingly, my first child is also an introvert so I never felt that particular push and pull so acutely. My second child is a true extrovert, but by the time he was born I was rarely alone anyway!
I thought of you just now as I sped home, fast as my monstrous minivan could carry me, from preschool drop-off. Now more than ever, I’m craving alone time. I think my third child may have pushed me over the edge into introvert-land. I wonder if there’s something to that–if we can move along the spectrum during different stages in our lives. It’s just with three kids, I’m never alone–there’s always someone yapping at me, wanting something. So now, the perfect hour is one spent by myself, in peace and quiet. Of course, I’m sure *eventually* the extrovert in me would get antsy…
I also found this post interesting because I’m the flip–an extrovert raising an introvert. My middle son is classic introvert (oldest & youngest are not), and at times, I’m at a loss. I’ll never forget a pizza dinner–special because it was just the two of us–spent mostly in silence. I came home, totally befuddled, thinking my son had a terrible time. But when asked about it, he beamed and smiled and spoke happily of our dinner together. My husband (introvert) had to help me understand that this is just how my middle is–he’s perfectly content to eat an entire meal quietly across from me. I love learning from him.
Reblogged this on xdayschocolate.
Your kid is just flat out adorable! Hahah!