Sensory Overload

The boys bicker and tumble during an indoor football game.Upstairs, a herd of elephants threatens to plunge through the ceiling.
My daughter coughs and snorts.  She blows her nose a hundred times.
The toddler tugs my shirt, providing commentary on everything from breakfast cereal to today's dance lesson.
Toys and clothes lay in a scattered heap.
My husband wants to know why I'm riveted to this spot.
Someone just asked me to tell them the answer to 7 x 8.
Someone who should know.
The dog whimpers at my feet.  Now, what does he want?
I just want to sit here and write.
Alone.
In the stillness.
In the silence.
Yet unrelenting noise karate chops even the tiniest moments.

The constant noise threatens to envelop my withering body.  As I write, imaginary headphones slip over my frazzled hair, but unfortunately they miss my ears.  My body cringes as my shoulders tighten.  I want to curl up in a little ball and roll myself right out of here. 

Earlier today, I took a shower and dried my hair, then plugged in both a straightening and a curling iron.  The outlet switched off, and I had to push the "reset" button.  Sometimes, I feel like I wish I had one.  No button here.  The buttons people press just set me off.  In a bad way.  I have sensory overload, and I don't know what to do about it.

I feel like I need a solid two hours a day just so I can reset my attitude and reprogram my heart.  When my kids were little, life was hard, but naps came every afternoon at 2:00.  Now, I have a  young son who sets his alarm for 6:00 AM and an older daughter who often doesn't finish homework until nearly 10:00.  In all that in-between time, a little person follows me wherever I go.  And though I welcome my children with open arms, I realize sadly that I often don't give them my very best.  Like a laboratory rat, I'm poked and prodded, and I feel so...prickly.  These sixteen hour days are enough to send an introvert like me straight to the funny farm.

So, what can I do when I don't have time to do the things I want?

For one, I can choose gratitude.  I can choose to be thankful for this season of life.  After all, it is "just a season".  Another trip around the sun, and maybe the boy will choose sleep instead of an early morning cartoon.  Maybe the girl will figure out how to get her work done without so much emotion mixed in.  And of course, even sooner than I think, the little one will be in school everyday.  Everyday.  Am I really ready for that?

Secondly,  I need to make a conscious effort not to waste the time I do have.  If that means getting up at 5:00, then that's exactly what I'll do.  That precious hour gives me time to exercise or pray.  Or both.  Before chaos ensues and in between the moanings of the tweenager,  I can engage in real conversation with another adult or lose myself in the pages of a book. I love this quote by Marilyn vos Savant:  She says, "Be in the habit of getting up bright and early on the weekends. Why waste such precious time in bed?"  Oh, I do love to sleep!  Yet I need to decide which reaps the best benefit:  time spent alone or time spent in slumber.  The challenges of the weekend will determine my choice.


Lastly, I want to plan intentional time away, to give myself a little space to recharge.  If that means missing a football game or scheduling a sitter to take a child to a friend's birthday party, I just may need to do it.  Pulling back momentarily saves me from getting overloaded.  I don't want sparks to fly in our house because of me.  Getting out resets my attitude like nothing else.  These four walls threaten to suffocate me, so sometimes I just have to open the door and breathe deeply of the outside air.  It's vital.

We ordered pizza tonight.  I saved an hour by not having to cook and those precious minutes, though still pretty raucous, gave me the pleasure of being able to pen this post.  My fingers pressed the keys, each one a little reset button for my soul.  The football game is over.  The multiplication dilemma has been solved. The dog is sleeping peacefully in his bed.  And I'm ready for tomorrow--fully charged.