Thursday, September 17, 2015

Quiet Time

Quiet time in these parts is from about 12:30 to 2:30 or 3:00, Monday through Friday. When parents shake their head and comment on my patience and say "I don't know how you do this", I  have two words for them. "Quiet time."

I don't care who you are, what you do, how young or old or big or small or how busy you are. I have two words for you. "Quiet time."

Children who are swinging from the ceiling fan, crying at the drop of a pin, disobeying for the sake of disobeying, throwing tantrums at every turn. I have two words for them. "Quiet time."

Overwhelmed, underwhelmed, life has got you down or you cannot figure out which way to turn. I have two words for you. "Quiet time."

Quiet time where you turn off all electronic devices and gadgets. Quiet time where you sit still with your thoughts. Quiet time where the world around you stops spinning and you actually hear your inner wisdom come to the forefront of your mind.

Quiet time where you are awake and alert and alive. Quiet time is not sleeping. Quiet time is being wide awake and aware. But still.

Quiet time may be spent watching or holding your favorite furry pet. Quiet time may be sitting still on your doorstep and staring into the sky above you. Quiet time is watching nature, gazing into a fire and if you are very fortunate, setting your sights out into an ocean in a trance like state until "nature" peeks out at you and makes you feel in awe of this thing called life.

Quiet time = peace of mind to me. It energizes me. It feeds me. It sustains me. Taking away my quiet time is like depriving me of oxygen.

Why do I write this today? Because yesterday my children were not still between 12:30 and 2:30. While three nodded off for no longer than an hour, the fourth sobbed quietly because "she's too big to have a nap" (no one said anything about napping - I only said you had to be quiet). Then as soon as her roommates were asleep, I allowed her to quietly watch a movie while I made the phone calls I had been putting off until the house was quiet. I hung up the phone and my little non-sleeping four year old started talking. I think the others heard her voice because they started stirring at the exact same moment in time.

The afternoon was a write off.

Was it because the kids missed their quiet time or was it just me?

It was me, not them. I need that little piece of quiet. I couldn't find my oxygen mask. My coping skills and patience were next to nil. And the children cried. And cried. And cried some more. Because they could have used a little more quiet time and they definitely needed me to have my quiet time so I could deal with their lack of it.

Carve yourself a piece of quiet time today. The world around you will be so glad you did!

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