From the Deep

Today I will yet again attempt to write a blog post. I’ve written a few over the past month, but none of them (interruption 1) have seen the light of (interruption 2) Internet day. I’ve (interruptions 3 and 4–causing me to really pause and attempt to regain my thought) gotten to the point where I’ve decided it’s harder to try than not. I’ll just allow my poor blog to starve over the summer while I’m home tending to kids’ needs and incessant questions.

Now I’m not (interruption 5) complaining (too much–and interruptions 6, 7, 8, and 9). What I thought I’d do is attempt to write a blog post and log the number of interruptions that occur as I do so, just as an experiment. All of the interruptions that I’ve already logged have come from one child (the other is still in bed, so I have a fifty-percent lower chance of being stopped mid-sentence, and you can already see where it has gotten me. (Oh, interruptions 10…and 11…and this last one is going on and on and on).

Why this experiment? Well (interruption 12), first of all, I’m desperate to get a blog post onto my site! But even more than that, interruptions are a big (#13) issue for gifted people (#14 and #15). Our minds literally race. Our thought processes happen so quickly that when they face an obstacle they can become derailed, and it can feel as if a train has crashed. How do we put the pieces back together again? How do we right the train, get the cars back in order, and regain movement and direction? It takes a tremendous amount of effort.

At the same time, if we’re gifted and we have children, our children are probably gifted too with minds that race as ours do. They frequently (#16 and #17–now what was I thinking?) have no thought of waiting to say what’s on their minds, and if they try, they too can lose their train of thought and face the resulting frustration.

Simply being aware of this truth can help us gain some perspective on it. Yes, we need to teach our children to wait (#18) their turn, to give us space and time (#19). At times my husband and I have had to invoke the “No Interrupting Unless There’s Blood, Vomit, or Fire” rule (#20). Children do need to learn manners, such as not interrupting when we’re talking to other adults or when we’re on the phone. And if we really do need to concentrate (#21–and #23, which happened while I was editing this post: an emergency search for a bathing suit, which will ultimately result in fewer interruptions once sweet daughter leaves for the pool), we need to draw a boundary around our thinking time. But understanding that our minds race and our children’s minds race can give us a different perspective, one that cuts us all some slack and helps us move forward (#22) with our daily lives.

What do you need to keep your thoughts on track? To get them back on track after they’ve become derailed? What’s a new perspective you can embrace about interruptions, or a new boundary you need to create to protect your precious thinking time? Answering questions such as these can help you stay sane amid interruptions (#24) as a gifted person and parent!

I had a sick kiddo home with me for the first two days of this week. Today she returned to school, and I returned to business as usual, but no one notified my brain. As I attempted to tackle my e-newsletter, blog, and e-mail, I could not squeeze out a coherent thought. About all I could do was watching tweets flash across my Twitter stream. Apparently, getting back into the swing of things is going to take a little while this time around. I’m Mom Interrupted.

Those of us who stay at home with kids frequently experience interruptions in the form of sick kids, snack requests, and sibling refereeing responsibilities among others. I find interruptions challenging–it takes time and energy for me to find the flow of a project, and when something stops that, I struggle to adjust. I do, however, take comfort from this quote by C.S. Lewis:

The great thing, if one can, is to stop regarding all the unpleasant things as interruptions of one’s “own” or “real” life. The truth is of course that what one calls the interruptions are precisely one’s real life–the life God is sending one day by day.

So here’s to living the real life! And, at the request of my children, who want to perform something for me right this moment, I’m going to go live it now!