Attention, Divided

Attention, divided.  It is a survival strategy.  Without it I couldn't of lasted through 13 years of motherhood.  Keeping track of the needs, concerns, schedules of a large family requires a lot of attention dividing.  I need to note who needs more time with mom, who needs more independence from the same, who has been getting too many, "no's" and who is testing limits and needs a little reigning in.  On top of that there are book order deadlines, piano practices to track, dinners to make, et cetera to infinity. 

It is also how one keeps her head from exploding when reading the same picture books 600 millions times or watching the same episode of {whatever show your toddler was obsessed with} over and over until theme songs haunt her dreams.  She turns her attention to other things while watching/reading/listening.  Attention dividing is an important skill.

So when I was left with just one child at home this year, we went through a bit of a shock.  I was used to giving him a certain (not small) amount of attention, and he was used to constant attention, via his siblings.   He demanded attention undivided.  Turns out my attention is no longer able to coalesce  into a whole.  All right, fine!  It has NEVER been able to coalesce into a whole.  And we struggled.

The biggest problem is that Matthew didn't just want me to play with him.  His idea of play involved me doing the actual playing while he sat beside me, occasionally handing me pieces or making comments.  (It makes sense when you remember he is the youngest of 6 children.) That is how "we" played with blocks, cars, sand, or coloring.  And if my gaze shifted at all, he would redirect my attention back to the task at hand.

Since attention undivided was driving me toward insanity at twice the regular speed, I knew something needed to change.  I tried to remember what I'd done with the other kids.  Then I remembered that I've never had a 3 year old without providing a younger sibling for their play partner.  Being home alone with a 3 year old was a completely new experience, and one that needed figured out.  Quickly.

So I worked on forcing him to actually participate in our play.  Slowly we made progress; he learned to live without constant attention and, amazingly, I learned to pay him more focused attention.

Then we discovered puzzles.

I have always loved puzzles and have long been a little sad that none of my children have inherited my desire (think obsession) with taking many little pieces and fitting them into one complete whole.  I have to be careful when I start, because I usually won't stop till it is finished.  And in puzzles I found a companion.  Matthew spends hours each day doing puzzles.  And he doesn't particularly want or need my help.  I sit and help him from time to time, but  he is so focused on the puzzle that I am free to divide my attention and worry about my daughter's grades or my shopping list while we play.

There is no surprise, then, that our puzzles went from 2 cheap ones to about 12 more expensive and sturdy ones.  Funny how putting together pieces of wood left me able to divide my attention again.  And also gave my son and I something that is just ours.  A shared love, undivided.