A little way down my news feed, I saw a link my friend Laura shared: An Open Letter from Introverts.
I'm not sure why I clicked on the post. I may have been thinking of my husband, a classic introvert who, somehow, easily finds his way into a conversation with anyone. Or maybe I just wanted to squeeze in a few more seconds of peace. Whatever the reason, it quickly became apparent that the post was about me.
“Errr…Book Club is on Mondays? Um. Ok I can’t make it. Ever.
Why? Because it’s on Monday.”
When I read that line, I laughed so hard, E and W yelled into the house to ask what was going on.
Oh nothing, I wanted to say. I just read a stunningly accurate description of my personality!
Because when it comes to our T-Ball practices, our "Mondays," I am having a terrible time.
I actually love watching baseball. And I love seeing my sons have fun. What I don't love - what, in fact, I hate - is that T-Ball practice is two weeknights, every week, for 10 weeks.
I have had meltdowns (yes, plural), during which I have cried and told my husband, my mom, and myself that I can't do it.
Because it's a weeknight.
(TWO weeknights, actually.)
(But still, I know I am ridiculous.)
If practice was held on a Wednesday mid-afternoon or a Saturday morning, as some of the coaches have chosen, I would have no problem spending an hour and a half on the ball field. It would not even register as a "thing."
But evening practices? They throw off our dinner, bath, and bed schedules, and while my kids couldn't care less about those, I DO!
I worry about them becoming overtired, especially my youngest, who has dropped his nap and needs an early bedtime to be his normal, cheerful self.
But if I'm completely honest with myself, I hate these evening practices because they throw off my time for ME! And as selfish as it sounds, I NEED that time.
Since becoming a mom, though, and especially since we started homeschooling, I have tipped more and more towards the introverted side of the spectrum. My socializing is done during the times that I would normally be with my kids - whether they are there or not - so weeknights are almost certainly out of the question. Chatting on the phone happens in the car, and superficial conversation is reserved for strangers. I rarely contact anyone to make plans for girl time, unless it's someone I've known for decades.
My husband falls in the loophole. We do go on the occasional evening date, and he gets to listen to my rambling thoughts, even after it's dark outside. (Lucky him!) But more often than not, we spend the majority of our nights sitting silently, and perfectly contentedly, side by side.
That quiet time is what keeps me sane.
Because during the day, someone is always talking.
Someone always needs help.
Someone is always there.
And most of the time, I love it that way. Despite the occasional day that goes on for decades, I'm thankful for the time I'm able to spend with my children, and I am very aware that life will not always be this way.
But for now, daytime is my extroverted time, and in the evenings, I slide to the other end of the scale. It works. Except for T-Ball nights, when, by the time everyone is clean and the upstairs lights are off, an hour of my much loved quiet time has burned away, and I freak out.
I realize that it is completely nuts to get upset about a couple weeknight practices for a couple months of the year. That, and the fact my sons truly enjoy T-Ball, have only made me feel worse about my attitude. But reading the "Letter" helped me see that I'm not the only one who has trouble giving up my evenings. And, I figure, if I can laugh about it, I'm on the way to recovery. (Which is good, because night practices are only going to become more common as the boys get older.)
There are two full months of T-Ball to go, so I have plenty of time to try rearranging our schedule on practice days. I'll find the extra quiet time to recharge, somewhere. It's important I do. After all, I'm going to need that energy when I cheer for my boys and their team on the T-Ball field.