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At one point, in my youth, I loved being alone.

I lived in the country in Southwick, MA and I would hike in the woods behind my house. I would pack a snack and a book and roam out in the woods for hours. I had a favorite spot near a seasonal brook and eventually I took leftover building supplies from my dad’s projects and built a little clubhouse in the woods complete with curtains. My parents didn’t worry as long as I was home for dinner and there were no cell phones, so while I was out in the woods I was truly in a state of solitude and I found it so peaceful.

Along the way I got used to a more hectic and frenetic lifestyle filled with classes, work, appointments, friends, boyfriends and eventually children. Every moment was scheduled to the hilt (usually over scheduled) and there wasn’t a moment to myself, much less to hike or read anything that wasn’t work or parenting related. It was a bit crazy, but I am good at rolling with the flow and I adjusted to the chaos and soon enough that level of running around like a madwoman became normal.

I remember the first time I was faced with truly “free time” as a parent. It was after my separation and my then young daughters were off for a night with their father. I was well and truly lost. I had no idea what to do with myself and I felt so forlorn. At that moment solitude was such a lonely word and an even lonelier feeling. The solace and peace that used to come from a quiet moment alone had changed to anxiety and sadness. I had no idea how to be alone with myself.

Time marched on and I got better at the time without my daughters, but I mostly dealt with it in my usual way….over scheduling myself with something or another. I took to booking my “free time” with real estate appointments or dates or visits with friends. I was still running and still not alone.

It wasn’t until this weekend that I realized how marginalized I had made my solitude time. Sure, I get some time in the evenings after I put the girls to bed, but I am usually so spent that I either watch some Netflix or just go to bed early. When I remember to, sometimes I use that time to meditate, which usually leads to sleep.

This Sunday I was home alone with no appointments, no kids and the only plan I had (a contractor to measure my floors for new flooring…separate post to follow) had cancelled on me. With hours of unscheduled time ahead of me I made a choice….I was going to take my book (non work and non parenting related) to the pool and I was going to have some time to myself. I was going to soak up a little sun, paddle around the pool, drink a beverage and RELAX.

I live in a condo in Westfield, MA and it is a community pool on a gorgeous weekend day, so imagine my surprise when I arrived and no one was there. I had the place to myself! As I floated around the pool and looked up at the sun-drenched trees, I was brought back to those early years spent in the Southwick woods. I realized how long it had been since I had just been with myself in total solitude and I decided that it was delicious. It was decadent and special and so rare as a prized jewel and I was going to soak up the solitude and convert it into serenity.

Real estate is hectic (and I am NOT complaining, trust me!) and being a mom to a 10 and 13 year old and a step mom to a high schooler is a crazy schedule, also (not complaining about them either…they are outstanding) so I know I won’t get a lot of that solitude business, BUT I know this….when I get those moments of solitude in the future, it won’t stress me out and I won’t forget to thank the universe and all that runs it for that precious gift.

Thank you universe for the moment to recharge and re-evaluate. I needed that.

Today while emptying the dishwasher I came upon a broken Charlie Brown plate.

Now, it is a cheap little kid’s plastic plate and I probably paid a dollar for it, but it made me so sad that it was broken and I had to throw it out.

That plate represents something that is quickly disappearing: items of my daughters’ youngest years. You see, they are 9 and 12 and really too old for Charlie Brown plastic plates, but I keep them and keep using them, anyway.

We used to be a house filled with Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, Playhouse Disney, Dora and The Wiggles (whatever happened to The Wiggles? Are they still even a thing?). We had toy boxes overflowing with building blocks, dollhouses with every accessory, picture books with big words, pretend cell phones and Barbie dolls.

Now? We have iPods. We have chapter books, craft projects, real cell phones and One Direction (that’s a boy band btw). We have teeny-bop type Disney and Nick shows on Netflix and Hunger Games movie time.

Instead of tantrums we have attitude and hormones, which really isn’t that different than a tantrum, really, and we have mouths that run overtime saying things that really aren’t thought through instead of mouths trying to form new sounds.

Recently the girls were “fundraising” to buy a trampoline. I suggested they sell their dollhouses and some other toys they haven’t used in a long time. While I am glad to have the basement cleared out, it made me take pause to realize that we were crossing over from young childhood to tween and teen years. I took a moment to remember 12 sitting in the sunny front room playing dolls for an hour or more when she was 18months old.

While looking for a book to read with 9 recently, I realized that both of her bookcases were filled with books that she is too old for now. I had to go to 12’s room and take a series from her. Her bookshelf is also filled with books that are too young. Somehow getting rid of the books is way harder than the dollhouses. I need to find a little girl to share these with, or maybe my sister will have a baby girl someday?

Last night, while sitting with a client and their 3 year old, she mentioned “Handy Manny” and I was so glad that I knew who he was and it seemed like just last year that I was watching that program with the girls.

I am glad that there are certain memories of the girls when they were little that I have engrained into my memory so clearly that I can pull them up anytime. I am also glad that I have a lifestyle that allows me to be with them so often. I am glad we share so many interests and that they are growing into such smart, well-mannered and talented young ladies.

All that said, I miss the little girls eating snacks off of Charlie Brown plastic plates.

So, the Charlie Brown plate went in the trash, but I still have a few fun ones left. As a matter of fact, 12 is right this moment eating a snack off of a “Thumper” plate. I know it won’t be long before they are all broken and it will not be long before my girls have moved onto yet another new phase, but I do love the items that remind me of their young years.

Meanwhile, I realize that one day I will look upon 9 and 12 as being the “young years” and they will grow up and move on and do all the amazing things I know they hold within their power. So, today, I reflect upon the Charlie Brown plastic plate days and try to also admire and honor the current incarnation of these amazing young ladies.

On solitude and serenity in a hectic Western MA real estate lifestyle

Charlie Brown Plastic Plates and Memories of Younger Years

Today while emptying the dishwasher I came upon a broken Charlie Brown plate.

That plate represents something that is quickly disappearing: items of my daughters’ youngest years. You see, they are 9 and 12 and really too old for Charlie Brown plastic plates, but I keep them and keep using them, anyway.

Today while emptying the dishwasher I came upon a broken Charlie Brown plate.

That plate represents something that is quickly disappearing: items of my daughters’ youngest years. You see, they are 9 and 12 and really too old for Charlie Brown plastic plates, but I keep them and keep using them, anyway.

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