The introverted mother

We wake up early, our bucket really full for the day.
We try and spend as many hours alone, in the dark, getting things crossed off our lists.
We like the dark, and the rain, we just like the feeling of hiding.

And before we know it, the rest of the world is awake and we start to give and give, until,
like all parents,
like all people,
we are empty.
Introverted parents feel a little harder,
loud is a little louder and
tired feels like exhaustion.
We get our energy in the quiet, in the silence.
We find it late at night, when the world is starting to close its eyes.
We find it here


We find it as we whisper our good-nights.
We find it in their love, their quiet, calm love.
We find it alone, on our drives in.
We find it on the couch, with a glass of wine.
We find it holding hands, in an embrace.
We find it here


We get lost in snuggles, and clouds that threaten rain.
We find snow storms another reason to hide and hibernate.
We love cozy, and warm.
We long for silence.


Our friends are family, we are fiercely loyal.
Change is difficult, milestones mean loss and loss is heartbreaking.
Love is too strong, sometimes it breaks us, most times it fixes us.

We notice the details, we are always focused on time.
We realize how fleeting life is, how change happens everyday.
We are quiet, but not silent.
We process and act later.
We love with all we have.
We create family, get lost in it.


I want to thank Toni Hammer for commenting on how introverted mothers mother.


Cover me in gray

Maybe it was being raised in a loud household with a lot of yelling. Maybe it's because I'm introverted. Maybe it's because my world seems to be crazy and loud most of the time. Maybe it's because my husband is so loud in every. single. thing. he. does. Maybe it's because I'm a mom and get asked a bunch of questions, or constantly talked to, or pulled at, or asked to help, or be held, or open a door, or a snack, or wipe, or blow a nose, or change, or find a toy, or fix a toy, or end a fight. Maybe it's because Anna wakes up talking or that Cole spends most of his waking hours upset and frustrated. Maybe it's because Mia is fighting for attention and her hearing is going so she spends a lot of time barking. Maybe it's because of my job, or my decisions, or my choices.

The reason doesn't matter.

The truth is, gray days with rain or snow falling bring me peace, and calm, and warm my insides. They are what I think of when I think of quiet. They are my definition of quiet. They make me feel human again and like myself. They are best cherished in my little house, falling on my roof.

They can turn a day when I feel the need to cry because I am hardly surviving. The days that I feel like I am really failing, as a bride, as a mom, as a CEO, as a friend. Days when I feel like all of my energy has been wasted on the wrong thing. It's the water that reminds me of my ability to survive and find strength and not only is tomorrow another day but with kids, five minutes from now is a completely different moment.

That's why I love the rain. That's why snow days stuck inside my home fill me with love. That's why when I'm not feeling like myself, I know that watching the rain come down washes away any pain. It reminds me to sit in the quiet and breathe. It washes over me and is delicate. It is soft. It is warmth. It quiets the noise.

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