Here’s a thing about me that I’ve learned to be essential and true: I require downtime. And honestly, that downtime needs to be about me. Me. Just me. Bubble. If I don’t get said downtime, I start to wind tighter and tighter and tighter. I’m a pressure cooker, personification of Charles’ Law, a popped corn kernel sizzling in oil (delightful, sure, but not very comfortable and a little unpredictable).
Today, I read about Yahoo! CEO Marissa Mayer’s announcement of her current pregnancy (twins!) and her plan to take a 2-week working maternity leave, as she did with her first child. I’ll leave others to debate whether her example is or is not helpful to the cause of working mothers and work/family balance. If she’s happy and fulfilled, I’m happy for her. But I just thought, How? How is it that some people are wired to climb mountains, and some are inclined to build cozy bungalows in the valleys? As a Virgo, I’m supposed to be driven by a perfectionistic, analytical streak, but my idea of achieving order is making it to the school before the morning bell rings. There are days that I can barely make it out of the house with a 7-and-9 year old who can, ostensibly, feed and dress themselves…(it’s supposed to be 85 degrees today; why are you in flannel?… If you want to wear your hiking boots, I suppose, but…) In the weeks after I gave birth to those children, there were days I didn’t dress, shower or leave the house. That everyone was fed seemed like enough. Dressed? Optional. Marissa Mayer may have a housekeeper, a nanny and a stylist, but she’s also a hardwired mountain climber. I am not.
About 50% of the time, my morning includes someone in a modified time out before 8am. I often wish it was me. Can I go to my room for 5 minutes to take some deep breaths? Sometimes, my eyes dry and my neck aching at work, I’ll talk to my husband who will say, “What’s for dinner tonight?” “There’s chicken and ground turkey in the fridge,” I’ll say, “And we should probably use the avocados.” And when I get home, and it smells appreciably delicious outside, it somehow always surprises me that the smell stops at our front door. “You said you were making something with chicken.” Did I say that? I don’t remember saying that, particularly. I’m going to my room for a timeout. Or, fine, to take my contacts out. But you can bet I’m going to be slow about it!
So, I’m a valley-type. I’ve come to terms with that. It’s a different view, not a lesser one. Every now and then, it’s fun to day-trip into the mountains. It’s a spectacular view. Sometimes stark and contrast-y, but striking. But do you remember the childhood song, The Bear Went Over the Mountain? On the other side of the mountain, there was always another mountain, back the way he’d come. Even as a child, I felt a little bad for him. I’m thankful for the Marissa Mayers of the world. There are so many advances in technology, healthcare, education, science and politics because of the mountains they’ve climbed. I have nothing but respect for that, as well as a little envy for that sort of innate drive.
But here’s what I noticed down here in my valley, where I have time for late night reading, and perusing fashion magazines (while wearing Target jeans and Old Navy t-shirts), time for extended happy hours and delightfully chaotic U7 soccer games: I noticed at night, the shamrocks on my windowsill close right up. They will themselves to sleep so that in the morning, they can spread their cheerful faces:
And there are these flowers that I definitely ought to know the name of, except that I don’t, that line the edge of the footpath that is Maximus Trail Park, giving it all the dignity of its larger park brethren. These sunny flowers know that there’s a time to rise, a time to shine, and a time to dream.
And so whatever our view, may all our dreams be as sweet as they are — as we are — different. And may we wake up refreshed and recharged.