The college where I work has an Open Door Policy. I know this because every Friday at 1:45 PM (plus a few other scattered times throughout the week), a tour group of prospective students tramps past my office. I have heard the patter that has been scripted by the Admissions Department for my section of the hallway uncountable times over my 11 years working here.
"When the architect designed this building, the classrooms were put in the center with faculty offices around the outside. This was intentional to increase accessibility. We have an Open Door Policy here. [Most of the time] when professors are in their offices, they will leave the door open to let students know they are available all the time for students to just drop by."
Lovely sentinment, I suppose, in an abstract sense. But you might notice the phrase in brackets. That has been added (intermittently) over the years, perhaps in response to the fact that some faculty on my hallway (me, most notably) never got the memo from the Provost as to this Open Door Policy. Thus, just as the student tour guide reaches this critical moment in the memorized speech, they come to me, at work behind my very closed door.
Now, I am actually quite available. I always answer to a knock on the door, whatever I am in the middle of doing. I never reject a student's request to meet/talk unless I am on my way to a scheduled class or a meeting. But the fact is, my work entails some jobs other than chatting with students, and I can't function to accomplish these real tasks with the door open to the constant traffic noise of the hallway. So, I continue to happily ignore this dubious college policy.
Recently, however, I have been pondering the policy more often in the context of parenting. (In 11 years of being a college professor and 9 years of parenting small children, I am actually awestruck by the similarities in the two job descriptions.) My children, it seems, have easily assumed the existence of an Open Door Policy in our home. In general, I think this is good. I certainly want them to feel free to approach me about whatever is on their mind. I want them to always feel comfortable confiding in me, so that all of their wisdom won't come from themselves, or perhaps worse, from their current culture or their peers. However, there are times when I struggle with limits; when I long to slam my door shut, so to speak.
My mom with my brother Jeff, ca. 1980
Now, I am comfortable with a fair bit of physical closeness. I grew up in a family with five people, one bathroom, and low inhibitions. My brothers and I were welcome in our parents' room when we felt lonely at night or had nightmares. My kids enjoy the same freedoms, and I am really fine with that, most of the time. In fact, I don't even necessarily notice, as you can see from this picture of John and I slightly past midnight a few months ago.
Me with my son John, January 2010
So, I cringe when I find myself feeling less than generous toward my kids. But it turns out that my precious commodity at home is not a closed door, but a chance to sleep. Lately, it seems that our Open Door Policy at home is more of an Open Season on waking up Mom.
Now, I am sure I exaggerate. Perhaps this has been more of an issue lately only because I have been sick for a number of weeks (nasty respiratory virus) and that has caused me to sleep much more than usual. Or perhaps my kids are feeling my absence more now that I work the afternoon shift, and are making up for that by seeking time with me when they can. But it feels to me that all 3 kids have been going out of their way to wake up Mom. And I haven't been able to react in a particularly kind way.
Let's see... John came in one evening after he had been put to bed and I was just drifting off to sleep in my own bed. "Mom? Mom!" I vaguely heard him but didn't feel the need to pull myself up through the haze of sleep to answer him. After all, he was supposed to be in bed. So John took matters into his own hand and promptly smacked me across the face to get my attention. He did. All this for... he wanted me to read him another story.
I had had a bad night, when I was up late working, then just after getting to sleep, John was up vomiting and I was up changing sheets and showering John. Jeremy slipped off to work in the morning and left John and I blissfully asleep in our bed. It was a school holiday, so I didn't have to get up to get James and Maggie ready for school. I was prepared to have a real "lie-in." Suddenly, James was in my face with a cheerful (and loud) "Good Morning, Mom!" Oh, did I hiss at him! I was irritated at being awakened, but even more afraid that he would wake up John. Still, my venom was undoubtedly magnified by being startled out of deep sleep, and out of proportion to the offense. I felt like a pretty lousy mom as I opened my eyes and watched James's face fall. He was just trying to be cheerful, after all, and when I looked at the clock, I was sheepish enough. The hour was well past a "lie in" and he did have a reasonable right to expect me up by 8:40!
Then there was the recent case of Maggie waking me up. It was during my worst week of illness, when I was sleeping 13-14 hours every day (which of course required some nap time). Thus, I had set up John and Maggie with a video and collapsed on the couch for a 30-minute nap. I was instantly pulled up out of sleep by a loud voice and a face right in mine - Maggie's. "Mom, the video isn't working right! Can you fix it right now?"
No, I thought to myself miserably.
I
can't even walk. If it isn't a fire in the house, I don't care. But Maggie wasn't going for this argument. Up I got, three different times in 45 minutes, to fix technology issues and sibling disputes over viewing material. So much for a nap.
So, I am seriously reconsidering the Open Door Policy at home. I think we may need a Sleep Codicil for Mom. If Mom is asleep, you must make do without waking her unless there is fire or severed artery. Will that win me any parenting awards? I think I am too tired to care.
