A magazine page, an email, my butt in a chair. These elusive diversions are what I refer to as spackle. Or “spackling,” which isn’t even a word. The point is, if I’m trying to do something but keep getting interrupted, the activity becomes the goo that I have to slaz into the cracks and crevices of my day if it’s to happen at all.
That’s ok; I know that having no time to myself is the trade-off for the life I’ve chosen: a monstrous hybrid of the stay-at-home mom and the working mother. (A self-employed architect, I work till 11:30 a.m., take care of my kids all day, then finish up my work after they’re in bed.)
Last Thursday I happened upon a Spackle Sister at the park. It was a warm, sunny, spring day, and everyone had come out of the winter woodwork to enjoy it. While trying to keep track of my two sprinting preschoolers, I ran by a mother sitting at the edge of the playground. On my second lap past her, I noticed she was pulling papers from a big, yellow plastic box. Her focus was complete, even with playground pandemonium happening all around her. On my third lap, I saw that she was filling out forms and stapling receipts. By God, she’s doing her taxes, I thought. Her taxes!!!
I got my kids squared away on the swings near the mother so I could confirm my theory. Sure enough, taxes. “You’re a woman after my own heart,” I called to her. She looked up, and explained that this was the only time she could make some progress on them. She gestured to her sons, also on the swings, who looked like they were in middle school. I didn’t know whether to feel better about my spackly-life, or worse. Better to know that other moms live this life, too, but worse to know that moms of big kids still do their 1040s in the mulch.
A friend of mine was also at the park, and I asked to borrow her phone. I wanted to take a picture of tax mom. But from a distance. I didn’t want to interrupt her again.
A wonderful woman friend of mine – a generation older than me – Mrs. Redmon, had a term for this sisterhood of spackle. She called it “Mending while we’re resting”. Yes, on those occasions when we sisters MUST sit down to rest “a spell”, (even though ever so briefly), we still mustn’t skip a beat – so Viola !! another “must do” task presents itself to our “idle” hands and a LAP that happens when we sit. (!) PERFECT time for mending (or doing taxes, catching up on a job at the laptop, or handling a conference call on the Blackberry). hmmmm – Her mending was sort of like the contemporary version of the OUR condition: now slicked up with a much more professional sounding term: “Multi-tasking”.
A gripping post, Whitney! It will stick with me as this mom heads into another busy, spackled together week. (Puns pretty much intended. 🙂 ) Thanks for the encouragement and the sense of community. Maybe I’ll see ya at the park soon. I’ll be the one checking email on my phone with one hand and pushing the merry go round with the other hand. And smiling because I’m blessed to be able to do both, however clumsily.