Because everyone loves a good story
The Beautiful Mess of Homeschool
Friends, I’ve got to tell you something about myself: I don’t function well in the midst of messes. Ok, truth be told, I can hardly function at all when things are messy. Instead of focusing on one task and seeing it through to completion, I zip from one out-of-place item to another, trying to set it all right before remembering what I started out to do.
For example, I’ll start to make lunch for my hungry children, but then I’ll see several containers of expired leftovers in the fridge, cram the scraps into the garbage, take out the overflowing trash, then try to load the empty containers into the dishwasher only to realize it’s still full of clean dishes. So, naturally, I unload the dishes and load the dirty ones, except the sink area also has a bunch of clutter around it, so I have to organize all that. On my way put away the clutter, I find about 37 more piles of toys, clothes, dishes, pillows, and books, and I can’t walk past them. I get caught in a frantic loop of grabbing and sorting, darting from pile to pile until my kids melt down from hunger, at which point I remember telling them I’d make lunch an hour ago.
I’m sure there are a few names for this condition, but the most common one is “motherhood.”
Homeschool: How My Journey Began
All right, as long as I’m in confession mode, I may as well mention that I was never the motherly type to begin with. I was happy being single, but then I got married. I was happy without kids, but then I had two. I was looking forward to sending them to school, but then I decided to homeschool. What’s the moral of the story? I may think I know what will bring me true joy, but God knows better.
I got my degree in teaching secondary English and enjoyed teaching high school for 11 years, but I’ve never once been tempted to teach elementary. Conveying the basics is far more intimidating to me than expounding on Shakespeare or tackling physics formulas. But when my husband and I started weighing the benefits of sending them to a good Christian school versus teaching them at home, the choice became clear. Homeschooling was the only affordable option that didn’t include my working a full-time job to pay for their school. So long, dreams of quiet weekdays full of tidy productivity.
What to Choose, What to Choose
If you’ve looked into homeschool curricula at all, you know there are roughly a gazillion options to choose from. Which method? Which resources? Which co-op? Which books? Which lifestyle? Which sad beige children’s clothing for my Instagram feed? To say the choices are overwhelming is an understatement. So, naturally, I began to research shortly after my son was born. Remember, having things organized is my happy place—even when those things are choices that loom five years down the road.
I settled on a classical approach because it’s time-tested and thorough. Then I narrowed it down to Classical Conversations because they’ve got the curriculum all laid out with songs, cycles, and community co-ops. Lastly, I suckered a good friend into joining a local co-op with me, and I haven’t looked back since. I mean, it’s only been eight weeks, but still. No regrets.
My Ideal Approach
I spent the summer planning, researching, printing, organizing, and generally stressing about the start of the school year. The Classical Conversations program begins when kids are four—the age when they enjoy memorizing and learning but can’t sit still for more than 12 minutes. That’s not a joke; it’s a fact, Jack. A fact which I disregarded when designing my son’s three-hour homeschool schedule, broken down into 15- or 30-minute increments. A fact which he proved when my beautiful, laminated plan went to pot on day one.
I had envisioned a joyfully-structured day, my son shifting from subject to subject with focus and flexibility. I thought our dining room table would be a hub of education and delight, the sunshine pouring onto our books, worksheets, and manipulatives like the smile of God. I pictured my two year old happily playing with the all the educational toys and crafts I would set out for her while my son diligently memorized Latin vocabulary and all 161 history timeline events. In short, I expected order.
Instead, I’ve experienced chaos.
The Messy Reality
The thing is, our typical day looks nothing—and I mean nothing—like my ideal. We do start with Bible stories and breakfast, but I’m actually not eating because my toddler has shunned her three-course meal in favor of sitting on my lap and shoving both her fists into my oatmeal-and-yogurt bowl. She’s very tactile. I move on to discussing the character trait of the week. Invariably, my toddler knocks over her unspillable cup of honey tea. It spills.
I mop that up while she grabs everything else with her hands gloved in oatmeal. I wipe all that up too. (Hang on, my eye is twitching again.) I try to keep us on track by singing the hymn of the week over my shoulder while I wash her hands in the kitchen sink. By now, my son’s attention is waning because the cleaning took so long, and we haven’t even started the actual lessons yet.
Guys, this is not fiction. It’s, like, every. Single. Day. You fellow homeschoolers know exactly what I’m talking about. (And if you don’t, please shoot me a message and tell me what on earth I’m doing wrong.)
Worth the Stress and the Mess
And yet I wouldn’t trade these hours for weekdays alone—not for five glorious, silent, tidy weekdays with the house all to myself…
Sorry I got distracted for a minute there. I was about to say how thankful I am for the chance to be stressed at home with my beautiful children. And I really do mean that. Quite honestly, I love them way, way more than I’d ever thought possible. Even when she sticks her fists in my oatmeal. Even when he scribbles all over the worksheet instead of drawing a straight line from A to the apple. Even when I’m short circuiting about the sheer caliber of disaster in nearly every room on the house.
Yes, even then, because homeschooling—like life—isn’t about attaining perfection. Demanding perfection of yourself will give you ulcers, and expecting it of your kids will give you twice the ulcers, three times as fast. It will also make them really frustrated. Instead, life is about knowing God and making Him known (which happens to be the Classical Conversation motto). For now, I get to make Him known to my two feral offspring. And God daily uses their mess and my stress to show me just how desperately I need Him. So even when homeschooling is a mess, I pray that God will help me focus on what matters most. There are moments of grace in the midst of the mess, and I don’t want to miss them.
Coming of Age: First Love
In coming-of-age stories, as in real life, it’s usually not a single, standalone event that leads a child from innocence to maturity. Sure, there can be a line-in-the-sand moment once in a while, but most often it’s a culmination of factors that draws people from childhood into the first stages of young adulthood.
In this series about coming-of-age in The Yearling and Peter Pan, I want to look at three factors that combine to bring maturity: love, death, and family. These stories, while drastically different, are both fantastic examples of the magic of childhood and the bittersweet realities of growing up.
INITIAL INNOCENCE
Children can be downright naughty (sinful, really), but there’s also an essence of purity about them when they’re young. I can see it in my children’s eyes when they’re experiencing something that delights them like snow, a song, or even a dandelion. Part of the coming-of-age journey is the starting point of innocence.
Peter Pan
J.M. Barry describes all children as “gay and innocent and heartless.” Speaking as a mom of two kids under five, I can attest to that. Wendy Darling and Peter both have a desire for adventure in Neverland, and neither cares one bit about how the Darling parents will feel if their three children suddenly disappear for months on end.
Wendy is oblivious to the dangers of Neverland when she first arrives. Peter, while very aware of the dangers, has no fear of them. Instead, he has complete and utter confidence in his own abilities—a caliber of cockiness that you really only find in children. In short, they both begin the story as “gay and innocent and heartless” as can be.
The Yearling
Jody Baxter is 12 years old when his story begins. We see him escaping the hard chores of Florida farm life to go play down at his favorite watering hole. He builds a “flutter-mill” (water wheel) out of leaves and watches it gently churn in the stream’s current. He’s both entranced and delighted, and he twirls around and around for pure joy.
He has the same feeling of cozy peace when he gets home and feels safe, loved, and well-fed. Ma is gruff, but she feeds him plenty and loves him practically. That’s good enough for Jody. But Pa is his true hero. In his eyes, Pa can do no wrong. Jody trusts everything Pa says and does. Jody’s delight in his childhood is innocence itself.
FIRST LOVE
First love is a big step on the road to maturity. You remember your first crush, don’t you? I know I do. I set my sights on a cool kid at school and used to stare dreamily at his letterman jacket in the elementary lunchroom. (Seriously, why does a fourth-grader need a letterman jacket?) But I don’t think he even knew I existed. Welcome to reality, little nerd. Unrequited love is a nudge toward coming of age.
Peter Pan
Wendy is in awe of Peter, and her awe quickly turns into a crush. She offers to give him a kiss before they leave the Darling’s house for Neverland, and she’s mortified to find that he doesn’t know what a kiss is. She recovers her dignity after making such a pert offer, but she continues to love him throughout the story.
For Peter’s part, he’s far too naïve to fall in love. He’s not in the “cooties” stage, per se, but he may as well be for all the attention he pays to his admirers. Tinkerbell has the first and truest crush on him, but he is completely obtuse to her insinuations. Tink despises Wendy, seeing her as competition for Peter’s affection. Even Princess Tiger Lily falls in love with Peter, but he is none the wiser. He confides in Wendy that he knows girls want something from him but that he can’t figure out what it is. If he had asked Tinkerbell, she would have gladly told him, the little flirt.
Other People’s Love in The Yearling
At the beginning of the story, Jody’s mind is far from love. From all he’s seen, love brings trouble. He sees two male bears clawing each other bloody over a female bear, and he soon learns that humans aren’t much better. Jody and Pa are fond of their close family friends, Grandma Hutto and her son Oliver. Oliver returns from a stint as a sailor and goes to court Twink Weatherby, who is prettier than she is loyal. Jody is angry and resentful that Oliver would ruin their cozy family dynamic by getting involved with some girl.
Things get worse when Oliver fights Lem Forrester, his rival for Twink. Pa and Jody have to join the fight to keep Oliver from getting killed, and this puts them at odds with their neighbors, the Forresters. Eventually the Forresters burn down Grandma Hutto’s house out of spite, and both Huttos move away. All because of some stupid girl.
Jody’s Love in The Yearling
But the love trouble gets even more personal for Jody. Pa teases him for having a soft spot toward Eulalie Boyles, the shopkeeper’s daughter. Jody gets irritated and defensive, claiming that Grandma Hutto is his only sweetheart. This harmless exchange continues to nettle Jody, and when he later sees Eulalie at the general store, he hurls a potato at her. He gets in trouble for it, but he doesn’t care. He hates her as only a boy with a crush can hate.
Toward the end of the story, Jody sees Eulalie at the town Christmas party, and she’s dancing with another boy. He feels angry and jealous, although he can’t articulate why. He feels that she somehow belongs to him, even if it’s just to throw potatoes at.
A LONG ROAD
The path from crush to true love is a long one, and Wendy and Jody have only taken their first steps. But once the opposite sex becomes an item of interest, there’s no going back to the days when they were simply playmates and equals. The coming-of-age journey has begun.
Our next step down the winding road toward maturity will be the reality of death. It’s a terrible truth but one that’s unavoidable as well. See you next time when we see how Neverland and Baxter Island are both affected by death.
Peter Pan and the Hero’s Journey
If you’ve been keeping up with this blog, you know that we’re in the middle of a coming-of-age series. Hopefully that sparked a few of you to wonder about today’s topic, Peter Pan. If you’re thinking, “Peter Pan never grows up. Why did she choose that as a coming-of-age story?” then kudos to you. You’ve had your coffee, and it’s in full effect. Peter Pan’s whole M.O. is that he doesn’t grow up, so he can’t really come of age, right?
But Peter’s not the only main character of the story, and I’ll try to make the case that his co-protagonist, Wendy, grows into maturity throughout the story while Peter – her leader, friend, and crush – flat out refuses to follow.
Origins of Peter Pan
Originally, J.M. Barry wrote the story as a play called Peter Pan, or The Boy Who Would Not Grow Up. Peter’s rejection of maturity was clear from the playbill itself. Later, Barry transformed the story into a book, calling it Peter and Wendy. There you see that the two title characters have an equally-important role to play in the story.
If you’ve never taken time to read (or listen to) the book, let me beg you to do it. It’s short, but it’s infinitely sweet, quirky, funny, witty, and oh-so-poignant. It’s one of my all-time favorite books, and that’s saying a lot. Please, at least listen to the audio version narrated by Jim Dale. You won’t regret it.
The Hero’s Journey
Now, down to business. I described the cycle of Joseph Campbell’s Hero’s Journey in my last post about the Yearling. If you’re not familiar with this archetypal storyline that shows up in so many tales, give my last post a quick read.
Today I want to show Peter and Wendy’s progression through the 12 stages of the Hero’s Journey. For our purposes, their journey is toward not just adventure in general but toward the specific adventure of maturity. Let’s see if they make it, shall we?
Peter and Wendy’s Journey
Ordinary World: When the story begins, Wendy’s ordinary world is quite different from Peter’s. Hers is one of manners, nannies, rules, and conventions. Peter’s world is wild, dangerous, unpredictable, and frightening. It doesn’t seem ordinary to us, but it’s become normal for Peter.
Call to the Adventure of Maturity: Wendy dreams of Peter Pan, as do her brothers, but they hadn’t seen him in real life yet. Wendy’s call to adventure comes when she catches Peter trying to capture his shadow in the children’s bedroom. His appearance there is no accident; he’d been visiting to hear Mrs. Darling’s stories, and he soon invites Wendy to Neverland to tell bedtime stories to Peter and the other Lost Boys.
Refusal: Wendy, being a responsible firstborn, doubts whether her mother would approve of a midnight visit to a distant island. Initially she declines Peter’s tempting offer to join him in Neverland. However, Peter eventually swindles her into joining him, luring her with promises of mermaids and mothering, both of which are more than she can resist.
Meeting with the Mentor (in this case, Death): Her brothers join the journey, and off they fly to Neverland. The three Darling children nearly die on the journey because they keep falling asleep while they fly, but Peter rescues them at the last moment—a way to showcase his cockiness. But Wendy has a much closer brush with death when a Lost Boy, deceived by Tinkerbell, shoots an arrow at Wendy’s chest as she flies. The arrow is deflected by an acorn necklace Peter gave her, but it was a fitting welcome to a lawless island.
Crossing the Threshold: Now the Darling children have entered Neverland in earnest, and there’s no going back—at least not yet. The island is more real and treacherous than they could have imagined. Wendy is suddenly a mother to nine boys, two of whom are actually her brothers. Peter is back in his element and is a questionable host at best since he’s always looking for ways to show off and be the boss.
Tests, Allies, and Enemies: In Neverland, the allies and enemies are pretty straightforward. Wendy is despised by Tinkerbell, the mermaids, and the pirates, but she’s adored by the Lost Boys. Peter has earned the admiration of everyone except the pirates, and even some of those seem to regard him with awe. There are plenty of tests and adventures as the story progresses, and Peter always manages to come out victorious. This enrages the infamous Captain Hook.
Approach to the Inmost Cave of Maturity: Eventually, the Darlings have been in Neverland so long that the boys forget basic facts about their real home and family. Wendy assures the boys that their mother will always be waiting for them to come home, but Peter bitterly announces that he’d tried to go home once and found that his mother had closed his bedroom window and put another baby in his crib. This shocks the Darlings (and the Lost Boys) back to reality. Wendy makes the mature decision to fly home immediately, and the Lost Boys decide to come too. Peter refuses to join them and stays behind, pretending to be nonchalant.
Ordeal: Little do they know that Hook is outside, plotting and waiting. He kidnaps everyone else and sends them to his ship. He tries to secretly poison Peter, whose youth and cockiness are a constant thorn in his flesh. On board, Wendy and the boys show great courage and maturity in the face of death. However, Hook is unpleasantly surprised to find that Peter has survived and has come to rescue the Darlings and the Lost Boys.
Reward of Maturity: Peter sends Hook to the hungry crocodile, who happily swallows him up. Now they’re free to rejoin the Darling family. Wendy has grown into a responsible young lady, and maturity is within Peter’s grasp, too.
The Road Back: They dress as pirates and sail the ship through the sky all the way back to London. The Darling children slip back into their beds as though nothing has happened, and the Lost Boys wait to be called in.
Resurrection: The Darlings are overjoyed to have their children back. They never gave up hope of the children’s return, but their appearance is as good as a resurrection. Even stodgy old Mr. Darling agrees to keep the scruffy-looking Lost Boys.
Return with the Elixir of Maturity: Wendy and all the rest of the boys grow up to be regular adults with normal jobs. They forget about Peter and Neverland, but Wendy doesn’t. At first Peter comes for her each spring, but soon he forgets to come, and she grows too big to fly anyway. After many years, Peter returns and finds Wendy a married woman with a child of her own. Peter, who has forgotten all about the adventures with Wendy and the Lost Boys, is just as happy to take Wendy’s daughter to Neverland. And so the cycle continues.
In the End
Ultimately, Wendy chooses to mature the conventional way, but Peter refuses, choosing instead to remain the only boy who never grows up.
The Yearling and the Hero’s Journey
Jody Baxter is like many young boys: innocent, trusting, playful, and lonely. Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings, author of The Yearling, takes Jody on a hero’s journey that gradually but permanently shifts his perspective from boy to man. In fiction, as in life, the process isn’t always pretty.
A Familiar Story Structure
Today I’d like to walk through the plot of the Yearling in a different way. Instead of giving you a simple recap, I want to look at Jody Baxter’s coming of age through the lens of Joseph Campbell’s “The Hero’s Journey” cycle.
As I thought about Jody’s gradual growth into maturity, I realized the progression looked familiar. It’s not just a linear process; it’s a cycle with distinct phases. Way back in the day, I wrote a whole series of posts about The Hero’s Journey, and now the plot structure is deeply ingrained in my mind. Once you’re familiar with it, you’ll begin to see it everywhere too.
The Hero’s Journey
Coming of age often begins and ends at home, but by the end of the cycle the boy has become a man. This is the basic gist of the Hero’s Journey. The hero begins in his ordinary world at home, experiences a call to adventure, and refuses it. He meets with a mentor figure who shows him he must accept the challenge, and so he’s convinced to cross the threshold into adventure. He then goes through various tests while discovering allies and enemies.
Things get serious when he approaches the inmost cave, which is the climactic event or faceoff. He embraces it and tackles the ordeal head on, emerging victorious with the reward he came to seek. He then begins the road back home, where people may have begun to wonder if he’d been lost forever. His return is almost like a resurrection, but he has proof of his journey: the elixir he left to procure. He is home again, but he’s a new man and has the treasure to prove it.
And that, in a nutshell, is the Hero’s Journey. For this series, the “adventure” we’ll focus on is the coming-of-age process. See what you think as we look at Jody Baxter’s journey through these stages.
Jody’s Journey
If you’re not familiar with the story and don’t want me to spoil it for you, now would be a good time to quickly polish off all 500+ pages or listen to the 14-hour audiobook. Otherwise, enjoy this Hero’s-Journey-style summary.
Beginning in the Ordinary World
Ordinary World: Jody Baxter is a 12-year-old boy who grows up on a wild and lonely farm in the backwoods of Florida. He helps a bit around the farm, but he spends most of his time scampering off to daydream and play. His tenderhearted Pa tries to protect Jody from life’s harsh realities and obligations, while his no-nonsense Ma keeps them well fed but scolds them for pretty much everything.
Call to Maturity: Ma Baxter is always hounding Jody to do more work around the farm so Pa doesn’t have to do it all himself. Jody tags along on the jobs he finds exciting, like bear hunting and trading, and he helps with some chores. But he’s still a kid, and he acts like it.
Refusal: Although he’s pushed to man up, Jody is still content to play with his only friend, Fodderwing, and Fodderwing’s collection of misfit pets. Jody longs for a pet of his own to take the edge off his loneliness, but he won’t be interested in real responsibility unless he has no other choice.
Meeting with the Mentor (in This Case, Death): The choice comes soon enough. Pa gets bitten by a rattlesnake, and Jody has to run for help like Pa’s life depends on it. Pa has the sense to shoot a doe and use her liver to pull the venom from the bite while he waits. Pa lives through the ordeal but is greatly weakened.
Entering the Special World
Crossing the Threshold: Two events coincide to push Jody across the threshold toward maturity. First, the doe that Pa shot has left behind a fawn. Jody adopts it as the pet for which he’s been longing, and he feels his life is finally complete. But this unexpected gain is tempered by an unthinkable loss—Fodderwing gets sick and dies. Now Jody has a great responsibility in the form of Flag, the fawn, but also a great heartache as he contemplates why Fodderwing had to die. These realities draw him away from carefree naivety.
Tests, Allies, and Enemies: Now Jody is on the path toward maturity in earnest. Pa is weaker and gets sick more often since the snake bite, so he needs Jody’s help. Jody wrestles with questions about love, jealously, and death as his family tries to keep their allies and avoid making new enemies. But as Flag grows, Jody undergoes greater tests of his loyalty and maturity as he cares for the growing fawn while also trying to look out for the farm.
Approach to the Inmost Cave of Maturity: As Flag grows from a fawn into a yearling, Jody has a harder time keeping him in check. His cute capers have turned into destructive habits. He can’t be penned and insists on destroying the family’s crops—their only livelihood. Jody begins a man’s work in earnest, working to the bone to repair the damage that Flag wreaks. When Flag easily jumps the tall fence that Jody has spent weeks building around the garden, Pa knows the time has come. He gives the order for Jody to shoot Flag.
Ordeal: Of course, Jody refuses outright to shoot the best friend he has—the fawn who has eaten from his hand, slept in his room, played with him, and given him purpose for the past year. He looks for any and every alternative, but nothing will work. In fact, Jody’s delay costs the Baxters a critical amount of crops. Pa is too weak to leave his bed, so he gives Ma permission to shoot the deer. In a nightmarish sequence of events, Ma wounds Flag, but in order to end Flag’s suffering, Jody has to finish the job himself.
Reward of Maturity: While Jody did what had to be done, he did it with a child’s heart. He is sickened, hateful, and livid. He runs away from home without a plan. At last, near-starvation provides the catalyst for maturity. He realizes that starvation is terrifying, and that’s what his parents had been protecting the family from. He understands that Pa had not betrayed him but had done what he must to provide for the family. Jody doesn’t like it, but he finally understands.
Re-entering the Ordinary World
The Road Back: Jody passes out from hunger and exhaustion. A passing boat picks him up, gives him some soup, and drops him off several miles from home. Now that Jody is thinking more clearly, he understands that his childhood is over and it’s time to go home. He had left with hateful words toward his parents, and he wants to put it right.
Resurrection: A feeble Pa is waiting for Jody’s return. He had thought Jody was dead and gone forever, but his return is life itself to Pa. Jody listens as his father gives him advice, man-to-man. He is finally able to hear and accept it not as a boy but as an equal.
Return with the Elixir of Maturity: Now that he’s home, Jody will take Pa’s place around the farm. He has grown from a boy to a man, and Pa has faded from a man to an invalid. In a symbolic gesture, Pa leans on Jody as the son leads his father to bed. The torch has been passed, and Jody is now the man of the house.
Terrible Truths
If you felt shocked at the climax of the story, then join the club. It’s a horrible scene—even more so as you think back on the relationship between the boy and the fawn throughout the book.
Did it need to happen that way? Could Jody have matured in a less heart-wrenching way? You and I will both be pondering these questions. Next time, we’ll be digging in to three themes that are critical to coming of age: love, death, and family. I’m really looking forward to it, so if you’re not too depressed to go on with the series, I’ll see you then!
Coming of Age in The Yearling and Peter Pan
When does a child come of age? Science says it’s when they hit puberty, but I disagree. I think it’s less about physical development and more about internal growth. A youth can show all the signs of physical growth and still maintain a sense of mental and emotional innocence that keeps him childlike. True coming of age has more to do with experience.
Two Great Books
While there are plenty of coming-of-age stories, two of the most poignant are Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings’ The Yearling and J.M. Barry’s Peter Pan. These books show the protagonists’ physical growth as a bench mark, but it isn’t until they wrestle with tough questions that they reach a new level of maturity. The three biggest realities they encounter are love, death, and family. Until they come to terms with these realities, they’re still children. Once they’ve accepted these realities, there’s no going back to childlike innocence.
I hope to spend the next several posts looking at these themes and how they shape The Yearling and Peter Pan. To be honest, I’m still a few chapters away from finishing The Yearling (although I’ve read it twice before so I know what’s coming), and while I have parts of Peter Pan memorized from so many previous readings, it’s been a couple of years since I read it last. I’ll be prepping for the upcoming posts by reading, thinking, and writing. And probably crying a bit too.
Read It and Weep
This post is just a declaration of intention and a heads up. If you want to read (or re-read) either of those books in preparation for the series, then by all means do it! You’ll always get way more out of a post if the book in question is fresh on your mind. The Yearling isn’t one of my favorites because it’s too sad, but it’s written so well that I can’t help but admire it. The word pictures, nostalgia, and encapsulation of childhood are just perfect. Peter Pan is one of the most perfectly-written thematic books I’ve read, and you’ll be so glad you took the time to experience J.M. Barry’s humor, sorrow, and brilliance.
If you’re tempted to save time and watch the movies instead, be my guest. I just discovered that The Yearlingwas made into a movie in 1946, but I can tell by looking at the pictures that the casting was completely without reference to how the book describes the characters. As a consequence, I can’t vouch for the veracity of the movie. As for Peter Pan, you can’t do better than the old Disney cartoon from 1953. It’s no substitution for the beautiful, masterful wording of the book, but at least it’s not just a reinterpretation of the story.
Goodbye for Now
And with that, my friends, I leave you. I’m really looking forward digging into these themes and stories, and I hope you are too. Until then, so long!
Too Much Carpe Diem
Do you ever find that summer is supposed to be a relaxing time of year, but it turns out to be the most hectic, frenetic season of all?
All the “relaxing” we intend to do throughout the year gets piled into a few short months. Instead of staying home and soaking up some sun in peace and quiet, we drag our families all over the country in pursuit of fun. Vacation becomes a string of events rather than a destination. For these reasons and more, a busy summer is supremely fun but also undeniably tiring.
All Good Things
If this sounds familiar to you, then you’re not alone. I’m in the same boat this year. Sometimes I don’t write enough because I’m too wrapped up in my own brain. Other times I’m just too jam-packed busy. July has been one of those times, with activities packed back-to-back, in state and out, alone and with family, visitors and visitees. I’ve been making some lovely memories, but I also feel like I haven’t really taken a deep breath since June. And it’s not over yet.
But the things I’ve been doing, the places I’ve been going, and the people I’ve been seeing are priceless. I wouldn’t want to cut anything out of the plans. However, methinks it would have been better to spread the plans over a three-month period rather than cramming it all into a short burst of insanity.
Slowing It Down
All that to say I’ve learned a lesson from this busy summer’s turbo-charged pace, and I hope to make some better choices when I consult my calendar in the future. Until then, I’ll try to enjoy each moment as it comes—my toddler’s crazy hair and popsicle face, my boy’s boundless energy and dirty feet, my hubby’s grilling and the smell of mown grass, and the sweet, sweet sunshine. I hope you’ll be able to slow down and enjoy the small things too, whether you’re at home or on the road.
And in the spirit of travel and writing, I’ll keep this short and instead refer you to a post I published a couple of years ago. I read it again recently and was inspired to view my current adventures as raw materials for future stories. Until next time, friends, carpe diem!
…Especially if it’s in your own back yard.
Lifelong Passion vs Side Hustle
These days, my lifelong passion and my side hustle have been duking it out in the tiny ring of my spare time, and it feels like a total KO for passion.
Tale as Old as Time
My tale of woe is a common one:
- Girl comes to love writing at a young age
- Girl pursues writing as part of a college degree, hoping to make a career of it
- Girl gets a job in education instead, writing in her spare time
- Girl gets married and has kids
- Girl no longer teaches and has far less time to write
- Girl gets a side gig as an editor to offset the insane cost of diapers and organic apples
- Girl wonders if she’ll ever have time to write in more than 10-minute increments again
Sound familiar? I’m sure that, swapping out a few details here and there, it might just be the story of your life as well. It’s basically the story of responsible adulthood: duty trumps desire.
So Much to Do; So Little Time
The first summer I was married, I would get up with my husband at 4:15 a.m. He would leave for work, and I would spend the day doing about 7 million things and being the most productive I’ve ever been in my life. It’s amazing how much you can get done when you wake up 4 hours earlier than usual. Sadly, that habit fell by the wayside when I started teaching again in the fall, and I once again joined the ranks of mere mortals who do things at normal times. I still got plenty done, but it was nothing to brag about.
Now that I have little kids, it feels like I’m barely scraping by with the things I need to do. Keeping a family running is a full-time job, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. When the economy took a nosedive and my eyes started bulging at the total on my grocery receipts, I felt like I should find a way to help out. Did I have to? No, we would have been just fine on my hubby’s salary. But if there was a way I could add a little padding to the budget, I wanted to do it.
Enter, my illustrious career in freelance editing.
There Goes Free Time
Before I began editing, I had about an hour between putting the kids to bed and starting to watch an episode of a show with my husband, during which I would inevitably fall asleep. Sometime I used the hour to catch up on things I didn’t manage to do when the kids were awake, but I also tried to work on writing picture books as much as possible.
But now any semi-quiet moment finds me plugging away at my side hustle, editing. I’m thankful for the source of in-home income, and I actually enjoy the work (#nerdstatus), but I also feel guilty. I feel like I should be able to do it all. If only I got up earlier, worked faster, and disciplined myself more, then maybe I’d be able to write some groundbreaking children’s books while spinning the rest of my plates.
Enough Is Enough
As I’m sure you’ve experienced in your own life, it just isn’t possible to do everything well. Sure, it’s possible to do everything in a mediocre way for a little while, but the cost is always greater than the profit. My husband knows this about me and is the first one to caution me against taking on one more thing (even if it’s a good thing) when I’m already at maximum capacity. Emily-on-overload isn’t fun for anyone.
Ultimately, I need to realize that enough is enough. When I’ve done my best during the day, it is enough. The rest of my tasks can wait. That’s a hard pill to swallow for my type A++ personality, but it’s the only way to survive this season of life. If there are tasks left over after I’ve put in a good day’s work, they can be saved for another day. This includes housework, editing, and even writing. Resting is an equally-important task. (Or so they tell me.)
Throwing in the Towel
All right, so there are only so many working hours in a day, I can’t do everything, and I’m supposed to prioritize rest. So will I let my love of writing tap out, or will I fight until my sanity slumps, bloody, against the ropes? Neither, I hope. What I need to do is re-prioritize. That may mean writing in small scraps of time instead of scrolling on my phone. Sometimes it may mean writing instead of doing the dishes. It may even mean asking for a bit less editing work to make more time for writing. But one thing is certain: it means lowering my expectations for this season.
Raising little ones is hard work. They’re currently at an all-day, hands-on stage. I’m enjoying (nearly) every moment of it, but mental and emotional exhaustion is just the reality right now. Thankfully, I know it won’t always be this way. In a few years when my kids are happily playing together in the back yard without ending up in 101 perilous situations, I may wipe a tear from my eye, remembering days like yesterday when I played with them all morning long and had a lovely time. But then I’ll get comfy on the back patio swing, pull out my laptop, and start writing.
What About You?
Let’s get personal. Do you have too many plates spinning? Are you frazzled and spastic? Are you frustrated that you can’t do it all? It may be time to say, “Enough is enough,” cut yourself some slack, and re-prioritize. And don’t forget to rest.
Or maybe you’ve given up completely on something you really feel passionate about, figuring that you’ll never have enough time. Maybe you don’t push yourself toward it because you figure, what’s the point? It may be time for you to set a manageable goal and start plugging away at it.
Whichever end of the Type A/Type B spectrum you find yourself on, it’s not too late to creep a little closer to center. That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to take this quiet moment to work on some lovely picture book manuscripts I’ve been neglecting.
…Right after I edit this one last document.
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