It never fails – they all come home from college and I want to hide. I love them all dearly, and I enjoy the time I get to spend with them. The house is so empty when they’re not around.
But it’s so full when they are. Oy, so full. My 10-hour workday seems to be interrupted down to about 4 good hours and 6 really crappy ones where I have to chase them off the phone (they have cell phones, fer cryin’ out loud!), field questions like, “If I’m going to the city at 5, how long do you think it would take me to get there?” (Note to all: this is too much like those math equations where two trains are rushing at each other and I have to calculate how long before they hit head on – my answer is always “Who knows? I took the bus that day.”), and the inevitable “I’m taking the car” coupled with at least 4 calls from the cell phone telling me A) about the idiot who just cut her off, B) about how he needs money for gas, C) about how she’s going to see her friend and won’t be home for another two hours, and D) “Hey, can I have the car in three weeks?” People! I’m working here! Let’s not mention the television blaring in the next room or the music she puts on in the bathroom while she’s showering that I can hear from the garden outside. Having them home means I’m interrupted. And it means they expect to be waited on (I’ve avoided committing homicide only slightly at the mention of “When’s dinner?” after a full day of trying to get through a sentence on an overdue story). Then they want to sit and chat through the movies in the evening, or get into debates about lord-knows-what while I’m reading a book. “Whatcha reading? What’s it about? Is it good? Why are you reading about that, anyway? Quantum physics sounds so boring….” Then let me alone lest I bore you with the Planck’s constant or Bohr’s atom.
The spouse is more willing to give me my space, amen. He knows when I avoid the livingroom or I get that look on my face to shoo them away and let me breathe. But now he drops the bomb: His friends are in town from California and he wants me to take time off from Wednesday through Friday. Uh, wait. I have two deadlines and a new project coming in. I need more notice. I need more time! I need space!
So, how do you deal with life’s interruptions?
At least your husband gets it . . . mine came home around 10:30 the other morning (between meetings, I guess) and asked me to make him brunch. I think he thinks I just sit around eating bonbons and watching talk shows all day.
The one who drives the car is responsible for returning it with a full tank. No money for gas, you don’t get to drive the car. Period.
If I know my concentration’s shot to hell, I fill the day with interruptions, with the understanding that if anyone so much as looks at me the next day, that one gets splattered across the wall.
“No” is a beautiful word.
The image you paint, Devon… ;))
Did I mention we also have a short-term houseguest? Did I mention he’s less trouble than even one of the inhabitants here? Haven’t heard one peep out of him all day, and I certainly haven’t even seen him. He understands, unlike the residents, that this is my job. He knows his way around the kitchen and he makes himself at home. Amen.
What I typically find happening is the day I’m interrupted by the household members is usually followed by a day of phone interruptions. Thank God for Caller ID and voice mail. When all else fails, the library is a mile away…
Oh I hear you! I really do! Frustration and tears have been my best friend this last week. I love that yours are older and they should get that this is your job but in a really awful, selfish way, I am glad that they don’t because the 12, 8, 7, and 2 year olds I deal with all day don’t. And could you send your spouse my way? Mine needs a lesson in “certain looks” and avoiding rooms too.
I just look towards August when school starts again!