So many entries have been in the making, only to be discarded. What to share, especially after a long absence? That life has changed? Well, it has, as it tends to do.
I am no longer a home-dweller. In fact, sometimes it feels like I live at my office. I love certain aspects of it. The "freedom" of walking to work alone, headphones on....no need to lift heavy strollers with restless children. It sounds awful, but I am starting to cut myself some slack in the guilt-department.
We still feel aimless sometimes. Most of the time. Life is a dense jungle of thoughts, hopes, expectations. Just trying to figure out how to really cope with life and all of its depths and simplicities is a headache. If only we weren´t so intense about it all. I married a guy who is so fundamentally different, personality-wise, but we share the wretched idealism I so often rant about. Why wretched? Mainly, because we can´t lighten up (about life). Everything overwhelms us these days. Balancing family-life with work, with personal time, with dreams.
Sometimes our mess* embarasses me. (*the chaos of our daily life) But then I´m reminded of how normal we are. Maybe we just put it all out there more than others. Sometimes I get the impression that we live under a magnifying glass. We are clueless about a lot of things, and we let everyone know. In search of some guidance, perhaps. Looking for tips on how to do this thing right.
The kids are alright. Great, actually. (I just thought of that song-title). They´re changing too fast, of course. Our pixie is learning to speak Spanish now. "Eso no se hace," "¡Qué frio!", and so forth. It is remarkable, but it hasn´t been easy. She bites her nails now, to my despair. Life has been stressful for her. The adjustment to school, to a new house, to a new sister. As much as I try to make things easier for her, I can´t help but feel burdened by the fact that we haven´t given her a simple life. And the gnome. Well, she is just lovely. She follows us around in the house, crawling, and reaching out for us to pick her up.
Anyhow, as I was saying, I wonder how we affect the kids. We, with our wander(&wonder)lust, our endless thinking and re-thinking. Where to? How? We are little Thoreaus, and I wonder if our children will be the same. If they will feel the need to live differently, as well. Part of me hopes that they´ll learn to be content just to live a "normal" life, and not to always be plagued with this yearning for adventure. I´m making it a point to celebrate little things. When I walk to school with Ari, hand in hand...I try to help her notice the nice things on our path. Or maybe she teaches me. She still marvels at things. I want to recover that sense of appreciation for life in its smallest detail. To be thankful.
The more I struggle in my parenting, the more I learn about grace.
I often think of Philip Larkin´s poem, "This be the Verse," but then I remember that this vision of life & parenting is both true and untrue. Life is like that, isn´t it? Clearly, I have a lot left to figure out, but I´m leaning toward the more relativist spectrum.
Stepping into one´s own world of thoughts & beliefs is rather terrifying, but I am starting to see the value of the process. (I am rambling) Reading further complicates it. One starts out with a number of certainties ("well, at least I know that this is true!"), only to end up facing some sort of an existentialist crisis, because this is true, but then so is that..
It´s comforting to have a "kindred spirit," as Anne would put it, to wander alongside me.
"Not all those who wander are lost."
Alas, as we face these questions and doubts, we are learning more about what we do value and pursue. We are so profoundly fortunate to be where we are.
More later. It´s rainy outside. I think I´ll stand by the window for a little while.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Soccer and All
Last night, past midnight, I spent well over an hour on a post re: the World Cup... I tried to explain how it affected me a lot this year, psychologically.... went on and on about multi-culturalism, the complexity of it, of feeling "fractionated" in all of my cultures, my desperate efforts at establishing likeness or otherness (culturally),depending on the circumstances. I shared my surprise at seeing everyone´s obsession with this year´s WC. Then I emphasized the link between soccer and cultural identity. It has nothing to do with the game, blah blah blah.
10 paragraphs later...well, I deleted it. Typical. I am a mess.
Today I have a different topic. I would tell you all about the haircuts I stupidly decided to give the kids yesterday.... how it made me feel like a dumb mother, again. But I´ve gotten over that. And what´s still on my mind, what´s becoming more and more urgent to me, is to find a way to live more deliberately. Several friends have expressed similar wishes.
Daniel and I have been chewing it over for months now. We are not content with life right now. We´re not rich, but that has very little to do with it. We have everything we need to make it through life. But we´re starting to feel so frustrated with society, with the rat-race of life in the Western world. As parents, we´ve had to face the financial pressures, the stress of providing. It has been a good lesson, in many ways. We´re learning so much about ourselves; we are confronted with our lack of organization on a daily basis. We just kind of live from one moment to the next....but are not carefree. We wish. We´ve seen the importance of time-management, yet we can´t seem to get caught up.
Anyhow, we´ve become obsessed with the idea of simplification. I reread Thoreau´s "Walden" the other day and thought, "he had it right. Thoreau knew what he was talking about."
The trouble is that life is all about finding balance, and we are terribly unbalanced. Nothing is in the right place, and we are frustrated. Shouldn´t it be possible to live according to our ideals, our values (to follow our dreams?). A lot of people are trying to convince us that it is not practical...impossible, even. But they´re wrong. I know that they are wrong, because I read about dozens of people who have figured it out. People who run their house just the way they want, others who live in a community of artists somewhere Down Under, mothers who sew their kids´clothes, grow their own carrots, and still find time to dedicate to their own ambitions and development. People find ways to live according to their values....and we want to get to that place.
Daniel is learning the hard way. Years after completing his college degree, he finally realizes that he wants to dedicate his time to music....that he is not content to keep music on the side, as a hobby. Actually, he has discovered that his artistic expression is vital to his well-being. I, too, have found out what I am aiming for, career-wise... but it took several years.
I´ll skip the rant about living in a greener, more environment-friendly, outside-lifestyle, type place. That has been said. Instead, I´ll tell you a bit about my ambitions.
After a very helpful talk with my mother (I did most of the talking, she acted as "life coach," and allowed me to figure out what my goals are by asking the right questions), I have decided that I will, after a lot of hesitation, aim to pursue a PhD-degree in English literature.
I gave up on the idea a good while ago, mainly because I felt incompetent. But I´ve discovered that it´s the only logical road for me. I´ve been trying to find teaching-jobs at international schools for over a year now. Application after application, all turned down. I have no teaching-experience, no qualification. And, more importantly, I don´t really want to teach High School English at all. It would be a nice alternative, something relevant to my goal, but it won´t really direct my steps. I could spend a couple of years teaching English as a second language, or getting a teacher-certification, but that is not what I am aiming for (which is to teach college-level literature and/or do research). I´m not interested in detours....I don´t think they´re necessary.
In other words, I am planning to apply to a PhD-program in the very near future. My mother helped me figure out small, practical steps to prepare for this (so that it´s not so overwhelming). I have resumed my studies of literature, this time at home. It´s ironic, really, that I finally have the inspiration and motivation, but am no longer officially a student!The main task ahead of me is challenging & intimidating: I have to come up with a topic-proposal. It needs to be both relevant to current trends in literary criticism and revolutionary. Wow! Nevertheless, I have a couple of ideas. It´s a matter of reading, studying, re-familiarizing myself with literary criticism, etc. My main interests are Renaissance and Victorian literature. I would like to research the importance of psychology and/or physiognomy in British literature throughout the eras. I have some ideas that might work, but will need to do a lot of research before I can even consider applying to a program and finding a supervisor.
Anyway. It´s nice to finally know for sure what my passion is. To have found a focus. It was much needed.
The children are amazing, by the way. Anika is light, that word came to mind as I was chopping off her precious wild locks. She is nothing but smiles, character, and joy. She is much chubbier than Ari ever was, but looks very much like her. Ari has come very close to killing her, but Anika just smiles and laughs. She is enchanted by her older sister.... Ari is a little elf. She has advanced in her use of Spanish, and we are so impressed by how well she functions in all of her languages. The darling starts school in September: she is over the moon. But I fear it will be a difficult adjustment for all of us. Ari loves dresses, Nemo, and being outside. She is a little bit crazy (like her mother) & keeps us on our toes. She loves to read by herself, enjoys our daily "lees-uurtje" (reading-hour), and is already (not too much to our liking) obsessed with all things pink and princessy. Anika is enjoying solid food, noise, and is slower to sit up and crawl than her sister, though she rolls around and is extremely active. She is the friendliest little gnome you´ll ever meet.
We are overwhelmed with love for our kids, but parenthood has its challenges. Many of them. Most of the time, we fall short. It is on our minds throughout the days, as we struggle to keep up with domestic life. We hope to be well-rounded people for them. Stable. That is our goal, and we have a long way to go. Thankfully, they are resilient. We would like to find a way to give them a childhood full of outdoor experiences, adventure, with an eye and appreciation for the old and little things in life. We want to pursue the simple things, which are the most beautiful.
10 paragraphs later...well, I deleted it. Typical. I am a mess.
Today I have a different topic. I would tell you all about the haircuts I stupidly decided to give the kids yesterday.... how it made me feel like a dumb mother, again. But I´ve gotten over that. And what´s still on my mind, what´s becoming more and more urgent to me, is to find a way to live more deliberately. Several friends have expressed similar wishes.
Daniel and I have been chewing it over for months now. We are not content with life right now. We´re not rich, but that has very little to do with it. We have everything we need to make it through life. But we´re starting to feel so frustrated with society, with the rat-race of life in the Western world. As parents, we´ve had to face the financial pressures, the stress of providing. It has been a good lesson, in many ways. We´re learning so much about ourselves; we are confronted with our lack of organization on a daily basis. We just kind of live from one moment to the next....but are not carefree. We wish. We´ve seen the importance of time-management, yet we can´t seem to get caught up.
Anyhow, we´ve become obsessed with the idea of simplification. I reread Thoreau´s "Walden" the other day and thought, "he had it right. Thoreau knew what he was talking about."
The trouble is that life is all about finding balance, and we are terribly unbalanced. Nothing is in the right place, and we are frustrated. Shouldn´t it be possible to live according to our ideals, our values (to follow our dreams?). A lot of people are trying to convince us that it is not practical...impossible, even. But they´re wrong. I know that they are wrong, because I read about dozens of people who have figured it out. People who run their house just the way they want, others who live in a community of artists somewhere Down Under, mothers who sew their kids´clothes, grow their own carrots, and still find time to dedicate to their own ambitions and development. People find ways to live according to their values....and we want to get to that place.
Daniel is learning the hard way. Years after completing his college degree, he finally realizes that he wants to dedicate his time to music....that he is not content to keep music on the side, as a hobby. Actually, he has discovered that his artistic expression is vital to his well-being. I, too, have found out what I am aiming for, career-wise... but it took several years.
I´ll skip the rant about living in a greener, more environment-friendly, outside-lifestyle, type place. That has been said. Instead, I´ll tell you a bit about my ambitions.
After a very helpful talk with my mother (I did most of the talking, she acted as "life coach," and allowed me to figure out what my goals are by asking the right questions), I have decided that I will, after a lot of hesitation, aim to pursue a PhD-degree in English literature.
I gave up on the idea a good while ago, mainly because I felt incompetent. But I´ve discovered that it´s the only logical road for me. I´ve been trying to find teaching-jobs at international schools for over a year now. Application after application, all turned down. I have no teaching-experience, no qualification. And, more importantly, I don´t really want to teach High School English at all. It would be a nice alternative, something relevant to my goal, but it won´t really direct my steps. I could spend a couple of years teaching English as a second language, or getting a teacher-certification, but that is not what I am aiming for (which is to teach college-level literature and/or do research). I´m not interested in detours....I don´t think they´re necessary.
In other words, I am planning to apply to a PhD-program in the very near future. My mother helped me figure out small, practical steps to prepare for this (so that it´s not so overwhelming). I have resumed my studies of literature, this time at home. It´s ironic, really, that I finally have the inspiration and motivation, but am no longer officially a student!The main task ahead of me is challenging & intimidating: I have to come up with a topic-proposal. It needs to be both relevant to current trends in literary criticism and revolutionary. Wow! Nevertheless, I have a couple of ideas. It´s a matter of reading, studying, re-familiarizing myself with literary criticism, etc. My main interests are Renaissance and Victorian literature. I would like to research the importance of psychology and/or physiognomy in British literature throughout the eras. I have some ideas that might work, but will need to do a lot of research before I can even consider applying to a program and finding a supervisor.
Anyway. It´s nice to finally know for sure what my passion is. To have found a focus. It was much needed.
The children are amazing, by the way. Anika is light, that word came to mind as I was chopping off her precious wild locks. She is nothing but smiles, character, and joy. She is much chubbier than Ari ever was, but looks very much like her. Ari has come very close to killing her, but Anika just smiles and laughs. She is enchanted by her older sister.... Ari is a little elf. She has advanced in her use of Spanish, and we are so impressed by how well she functions in all of her languages. The darling starts school in September: she is over the moon. But I fear it will be a difficult adjustment for all of us. Ari loves dresses, Nemo, and being outside. She is a little bit crazy (like her mother) & keeps us on our toes. She loves to read by herself, enjoys our daily "lees-uurtje" (reading-hour), and is already (not too much to our liking) obsessed with all things pink and princessy. Anika is enjoying solid food, noise, and is slower to sit up and crawl than her sister, though she rolls around and is extremely active. She is the friendliest little gnome you´ll ever meet.
We are overwhelmed with love for our kids, but parenthood has its challenges. Many of them. Most of the time, we fall short. It is on our minds throughout the days, as we struggle to keep up with domestic life. We hope to be well-rounded people for them. Stable. That is our goal, and we have a long way to go. Thankfully, they are resilient. We would like to find a way to give them a childhood full of outdoor experiences, adventure, with an eye and appreciation for the old and little things in life. We want to pursue the simple things, which are the most beautiful.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
A Home in Photos
For the first time in many years, all my belongings are in one place (except for, perhaps, a box or two of old barbies & stories written in my elementary school years). It´s all within my reach, and I love that feeling.
My parents have been saints for housing our junk for so long. And my dad organized so much of our things and got everything ready for shipment. We are so grateful to have it all here with us.
But I am in the ugly middle, in the utter chaos, of placement. Of tossing, sorting, and shelving all of our things. I can hardly believe what we have. Some of it is really crap. Straight to the trash. Other things are in purgatory, I suppose: piles of old photos, frames of unfinished wood that I don´t like at all but have yet to declare unsuitable for future use, papers, papers, papers.
I have spent two whole hours with old papers, receipts, pamphlets, etc. It is absolutely exhausting, but necessary if we are to have any order at all in this house. It is the most time-consuming part of home-organizing, but also the most liberating. I sat on the floor and read through old notes from me to Daniel in our High School days......before we had quite figured out that we were going to "be" together. Old scribbles, paintings, school-performance programs, etc.
I looked at the script of "Arsenic and Old Lace," a reminder of my more awkward (if that is possible!) years....trying to figure out whether I wanted to study theater in Seattle (as Charissa eventually did), or opt for a more practical major, instead. And where did that get me?
I gave up on a life-long interest in acting, and decided to pursue a degree in English literature. Alright, I admit that literature is probably a more pronounced passion of mine, and that I might be a more talented reader than actress, but that choice certainly didn´t give me many career-options.
Here I am, at twenty-six, with a useless degree. Useless, because it´s experience that counts, in the end. And I have none. (hence, I have decided that further studies will be necessary if I choose to pursue certain ambitions, but I´ll save that for a later post :-) )
Alas, I sit surrounded by empty and half-empty boxes, by a couple of piles of Daniel´s sci-fi novels, by binders and notebooks, and all I want is time. Time to sort through it all: to put it all in its perfect place. My babies are finally sleeping and I need to put this time to good use.
In a few moments, then, I shall get back to it. I will brave the chaos again, find a few more trash-bags, and make some difficult toss-decisions. De-cluttering (de-clutterization?) is liberating, yes, but it is such a tedious task. It requires all my focus: I can´t do it haphazardly. Hopefully, I will be wise to toss much and keep only those things essential to put our minds and home at rest: select memorabilia, relevant literary articles, notes, & essays for future reference, and clothes that we will actually wear within the next year. (needless to say, we will not be throwing out much of anything from our book- and record-collections.)
When does a person reach that point of saying, "this is home. I shall fill it with the furniture, decorations, and things that perfectly reflect me and my family. no expense shall be spared." ?
Maybe I am just reading the wrong blogs. You see, I always read about these people (strangers) who have set up their homes to perfection. I mean, every last tea-cup is in the perfect place. You know? It incites my envy. I look at their quaint homes, their cool shabby-chic spaces, and I think, "that´s what I want". But part of me knows, even as I take such pride in organizing my shelf-spaces with precision, etc.., that I am not going to be there for a long while. Even if I had the money! It just seems like every tiny detail of their lives is so organized, so perfectly characteristic of who they are.
Ah, what is up with this obsession with expression? I am fascinated.
I might get there one day....years from now. Eventually, I might invest in just the right couch, the perfect family photo-shoot, the painted walls... It certainly appeals to me. But it means permanence. Still, eventually, my house may look like hers:
http://makingitlovely.com/photos/album/72157604302986919/photo/3266987273/library-my-library.html
I guess Daniel and I are just unsettled. In most ways. We don´t have it all figured out. We don´t plan much. No, we are divers. I perhaps even more so than Daniel.
Ha!, we don´t have anything figured out (except for the fact that we are crazily right together, and that our little girls are better than anything we could have ever hoped for). We start dreaming of the next place the moment we set foot in a new house. We might try to unpack everything and set everything up, but in our minds the boxes, the suitcases, are always packed.
We´re finally starting to narrow our career-goals down a little bit. Finally. We are starting to figure out what small steps need to be taken in order for us to reach the bigger goals. But everything in between is so fuzzy. To live in the present, to enjoy the now, is a lesson we have to learn anew almost every single day.
Some of my favorite re-encounters:
*the mug-collection
*the tea-sets
*the books (duh)
*the mahogany chest! (photo to follow)
Here you have it. My home. For the time being. Visit?
My parents have been saints for housing our junk for so long. And my dad organized so much of our things and got everything ready for shipment. We are so grateful to have it all here with us.
But I am in the ugly middle, in the utter chaos, of placement. Of tossing, sorting, and shelving all of our things. I can hardly believe what we have. Some of it is really crap. Straight to the trash. Other things are in purgatory, I suppose: piles of old photos, frames of unfinished wood that I don´t like at all but have yet to declare unsuitable for future use, papers, papers, papers.
I have spent two whole hours with old papers, receipts, pamphlets, etc. It is absolutely exhausting, but necessary if we are to have any order at all in this house. It is the most time-consuming part of home-organizing, but also the most liberating. I sat on the floor and read through old notes from me to Daniel in our High School days......before we had quite figured out that we were going to "be" together. Old scribbles, paintings, school-performance programs, etc.
I looked at the script of "Arsenic and Old Lace," a reminder of my more awkward (if that is possible!) years....trying to figure out whether I wanted to study theater in Seattle (as Charissa eventually did), or opt for a more practical major, instead. And where did that get me?I gave up on a life-long interest in acting, and decided to pursue a degree in English literature. Alright, I admit that literature is probably a more pronounced passion of mine, and that I might be a more talented reader than actress, but that choice certainly didn´t give me many career-options.
Here I am, at twenty-six, with a useless degree. Useless, because it´s experience that counts, in the end. And I have none. (hence, I have decided that further studies will be necessary if I choose to pursue certain ambitions, but I´ll save that for a later post :-) )
Alas, I sit surrounded by empty and half-empty boxes, by a couple of piles of Daniel´s sci-fi novels, by binders and notebooks, and all I want is time. Time to sort through it all: to put it all in its perfect place. My babies are finally sleeping and I need to put this time to good use.
In a few moments, then, I shall get back to it. I will brave the chaos again, find a few more trash-bags, and make some difficult toss-decisions. De-cluttering (de-clutterization?) is liberating, yes, but it is such a tedious task. It requires all my focus: I can´t do it haphazardly. Hopefully, I will be wise to toss much and keep only those things essential to put our minds and home at rest: select memorabilia, relevant literary articles, notes, & essays for future reference, and clothes that we will actually wear within the next year. (needless to say, we will not be throwing out much of anything from our book- and record-collections.)
When does a person reach that point of saying, "this is home. I shall fill it with the furniture, decorations, and things that perfectly reflect me and my family. no expense shall be spared." ?
Maybe I am just reading the wrong blogs. You see, I always read about these people (strangers) who have set up their homes to perfection. I mean, every last tea-cup is in the perfect place. You know? It incites my envy. I look at their quaint homes, their cool shabby-chic spaces, and I think, "that´s what I want". But part of me knows, even as I take such pride in organizing my shelf-spaces with precision, etc.., that I am not going to be there for a long while. Even if I had the money! It just seems like every tiny detail of their lives is so organized, so perfectly characteristic of who they are.
Ah, what is up with this obsession with expression? I am fascinated.
I might get there one day....years from now. Eventually, I might invest in just the right couch, the perfect family photo-shoot, the painted walls... It certainly appeals to me. But it means permanence. Still, eventually, my house may look like hers:
http://makingitlovely.com/photos/album/72157604302986919/photo/3266987273/library-my-library.html
I guess Daniel and I are just unsettled. In most ways. We don´t have it all figured out. We don´t plan much. No, we are divers. I perhaps even more so than Daniel.
Ha!, we don´t have anything figured out (except for the fact that we are crazily right together, and that our little girls are better than anything we could have ever hoped for). We start dreaming of the next place the moment we set foot in a new house. We might try to unpack everything and set everything up, but in our minds the boxes, the suitcases, are always packed.
We´re finally starting to narrow our career-goals down a little bit. Finally. We are starting to figure out what small steps need to be taken in order for us to reach the bigger goals. But everything in between is so fuzzy. To live in the present, to enjoy the now, is a lesson we have to learn anew almost every single day.
Some of my favorite re-encounters:
*the mug-collection
*the tea-sets
*the books (duh)
*the mahogany chest! (photo to follow)Here you have it. My home. For the time being. Visit?
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Humble Pie
It turns out the system favors us, too, as we are (who was I kidding?) poor enough, after all. Daniel and I knew something was off when we saw that 85 % of the people of the admission-list (and not-admitted-list, actually) had received the 2 possible points for earnings below a certain amount. We were convinced that we could not possibly be earning more than the majority of other families in this neighborhood. So, I did some research, dug into our old tax-papers, made a few calculations, and headed to the school to "reclamar": we deserved those points, and I was going to demand a correction. It worked.
We were given the extra 2 points that were due, and Ari was bumped up on the list. She made it to the top of the not-admitted list, and the principal had already explained that about 8 or 9 of those kids would still make it into the school (from the top of the not-admitted list). So, little Boo is now officially on the to-register list! YAY! Three weeks from now, we will have to do the real registration.
The system may still be unfair. But, we are on the side of the privileged, and I should have been complaining about the system´s inefficiency, rather than whining about how we are too rich to get any benefits in this country. Hahaha. I feel rather like an idiot, and will certainly do a bit more thinking before I write.. Next time. I hope.
When the kids and I went to the school to look at the revised admission-list, and I saw Ari´s name on the good list, I said a loud, "YAY," and Ari picked up on my enthusiasm. She probably thought it would be her school all along, because we had previously been there for a tour, and we were more hopeful back then. Before all the registration-mess.
Yesterday, as we waited in the playground by the business-park where Daniel works, Ari said, "Ari´s go to school.. Ari´s listen to teacher and pay (play). Ari´s get a new backpack. Mama won´t see me." It made me a bit teary-eyed to see how well she seems to understand the adjustment that is ahead. She´s a perceptive little kid. So, I pushed her swing, and told her about all the fun things that she will learn... and that Mama will go to work, but then Mama or Papa will pick her up from school, pick Anika up from the baby-school, and then we´ll play in the park, and then we´ll eat together. She seemed to like the idea.
We were given the extra 2 points that were due, and Ari was bumped up on the list. She made it to the top of the not-admitted list, and the principal had already explained that about 8 or 9 of those kids would still make it into the school (from the top of the not-admitted list). So, little Boo is now officially on the to-register list! YAY! Three weeks from now, we will have to do the real registration.
The system may still be unfair. But, we are on the side of the privileged, and I should have been complaining about the system´s inefficiency, rather than whining about how we are too rich to get any benefits in this country. Hahaha. I feel rather like an idiot, and will certainly do a bit more thinking before I write.. Next time. I hope.
When the kids and I went to the school to look at the revised admission-list, and I saw Ari´s name on the good list, I said a loud, "YAY," and Ari picked up on my enthusiasm. She probably thought it would be her school all along, because we had previously been there for a tour, and we were more hopeful back then. Before all the registration-mess.
Yesterday, as we waited in the playground by the business-park where Daniel works, Ari said, "Ari´s go to school.. Ari´s listen to teacher and pay (play). Ari´s get a new backpack. Mama won´t see me." It made me a bit teary-eyed to see how well she seems to understand the adjustment that is ahead. She´s a perceptive little kid. So, I pushed her swing, and told her about all the fun things that she will learn... and that Mama will go to work, but then Mama or Papa will pick her up from school, pick Anika up from the baby-school, and then we´ll play in the park, and then we´ll eat together. She seemed to like the idea.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Mommy-Wars and Grayness
In my experience, the longer you live (or, specifically, the longer you "mother"), the grayer your opinions become. You follow?
There is a phenomenon called "Mommy Wars," and it is a very popular topic of discussion on the mothering-blogs that I read. Most of the issues mothers rant and rave about on their blogs, in their mothering-communities, and to uninterested (pitied!) bystanders, fall into the category of "mommy wars". In fact, almost every decision a mother makes, every mundane decision regarding childcare, has been chewed over and scrutinized by a legion of mothers across the globe. Say, for instance, that someone tells you that it is perfectly alright to put the parts of your baby´s bottle in the dishwasher. You are relieved to hear that you will no longer have to worry about the tedious task of boiling it all to sterilize the bottle for future use. Then, you make the mistake of looking it up online. As soon as you google "clean baby bottle," your confidence goes out the window. Apparently, about four-thousand other mothers claim that dishwashers ruin the bottle-parts, and you should never opt for that easy way out. Or your child will become terribly ill, your bottle-parts will break, and there are about a million things that could go wrong if you´ve chosen to go the dishwasher-route.
The same is true for: heating water in microwave, pacifier versus thumb, letting baby sleep in baby-swing, crib-protectors.... so on and so on.
And those are just the little decisions. When it comes to "working mother versus stay-at-home mother," the mommy-war is truly vicious.
The insecurities of mothers are big business.
Anyway, it is the work-issue that I was thinking about this morning (because of an article I read on a mothering-website, incidentally).
What got me thinking more about this issue, beside the fact that I am in the middle of that decision, is that I have changed my mind very drastically. Similarly, I am less adamant about every other aspect of motherhood, simply because experience has taught me that there really are two sides to every story.
I am not going to into all the pros and cons of both camps (the working-mothers versus the stay-at-home mothers: whether one is either better for the kids, or easier for the mother). But I wanted to say just how much I´ve been confronted with the fact that things are a heck of a lot "grayer" than I used to think. Things aren´t so simple: it´s not really fair to judge someone for their decision, especially if we haven´t been in their particular place. Sure, I still have some strong opinions regarding what is best for my children, or for my own life, but I am (SLOWLY!) learning to step back and look at an issue from all possible angles before charging ahead on one side of the battlefield.
There is a phenomenon called "Mommy Wars," and it is a very popular topic of discussion on the mothering-blogs that I read. Most of the issues mothers rant and rave about on their blogs, in their mothering-communities, and to uninterested (pitied!) bystanders, fall into the category of "mommy wars". In fact, almost every decision a mother makes, every mundane decision regarding childcare, has been chewed over and scrutinized by a legion of mothers across the globe. Say, for instance, that someone tells you that it is perfectly alright to put the parts of your baby´s bottle in the dishwasher. You are relieved to hear that you will no longer have to worry about the tedious task of boiling it all to sterilize the bottle for future use. Then, you make the mistake of looking it up online. As soon as you google "clean baby bottle," your confidence goes out the window. Apparently, about four-thousand other mothers claim that dishwashers ruin the bottle-parts, and you should never opt for that easy way out. Or your child will become terribly ill, your bottle-parts will break, and there are about a million things that could go wrong if you´ve chosen to go the dishwasher-route.
The same is true for: heating water in microwave, pacifier versus thumb, letting baby sleep in baby-swing, crib-protectors.... so on and so on.
And those are just the little decisions. When it comes to "working mother versus stay-at-home mother," the mommy-war is truly vicious.
The insecurities of mothers are big business.
Anyway, it is the work-issue that I was thinking about this morning (because of an article I read on a mothering-website, incidentally).
What got me thinking more about this issue, beside the fact that I am in the middle of that decision, is that I have changed my mind very drastically. Similarly, I am less adamant about every other aspect of motherhood, simply because experience has taught me that there really are two sides to every story.
I am not going to into all the pros and cons of both camps (the working-mothers versus the stay-at-home mothers: whether one is either better for the kids, or easier for the mother). But I wanted to say just how much I´ve been confronted with the fact that things are a heck of a lot "grayer" than I used to think. Things aren´t so simple: it´s not really fair to judge someone for their decision, especially if we haven´t been in their particular place. Sure, I still have some strong opinions regarding what is best for my children, or for my own life, but I am (SLOWLY!) learning to step back and look at an issue from all possible angles before charging ahead on one side of the battlefield.
Monday, May 24, 2010
The New Abode
Inevitably, moving into a new house is always followed by a string of little discoveries: you become acquainted with all the little idiosyncrasies of your new home. Yes, a house is rather like a person.
First impressions count when it comes to houses (as they do with people), but it takes time to discover the little things that you either like or dislike about your new residence. The creaks of certain doors, your neighbors´bad taste in music, the lack of light in certain rooms, bad water-pressure (a pet-peeve), closet-doors that don´t open easily....
But, there is much to love about this place. It is neither luxurious nor notably spacious, but I had a feeling that it would prove very livable. And it has.This is why:
*Closet-space: this place boasts so much storage-space! we´ve accumulated so much stuff throughout the years, that the space-issue was a not only a plus, but a prerequisite. it has helped us get organized.
*Windows: (possibly related to the fact that I come from a country of houses with big windows) I love windows. The living-room has a wall of windows, and I could not be more delighted. It stormed the other night, and I just sat there....on the couch, looking at the grey and restless sky.
*Book-wall: the living-room has a wall of built-in shelving. Perfect for book-hoarders. My boxes of books will arrive several weeks from now, and I am thrilled to have the shelf-space to display them.
*Balcony: this is directly related to the space-thing. We have an enclosed balcony, not wide (or sunny) enough for plants, and not suitable as a hang-out place, but it is just what I needed to manage the laundry. My laundry-rack sits there, out of our way, dry when necessary, and in the fresh air when the weather permits (all I have to do is open 1 or 2 windows). Moreover, it, too, has a closet for miscellany. It serves as a laundry-room, shed, and pantry.
*The fourth bedroom, now an office/music-room. We thought of using this open room (connected to our living-room) as a dining-room, but decided it had more potential. Daniel convinced me that it could be put to better use, and it now holds his music-collection. Once our wooden chest, black chair, and woolly brown checkered rug arrive from Holland, this room will be well on its way to becoming the coziest nook on this side of the Atlantic.
I´ve lived in many houses. There have been prettier ones, two (one in SC, the other just down the street) with splendid terrace/porch-spaces.... However, I have never before been quite so happy with how I´ve been able to organize my belongings. Shelves, drawers, etc. Everything in its right place. We´ve had to be creative, but it works wonderfully. (i.e. one of our 2 bath-tubs now hides our 3 laundry-hampers. the hampers sit in the tub, and all I have to do is open the tub´s sliding doors, and voila!, there are the 3 color-coordinated hampers. Out of sight. By the way, it took me about 2 hours of scrubbing and complaining to discover that, 1, it would not work as a bath (FILTHY!), and, thus, 2, it needed an alternative function. Who needs 2 bathtubs, anyway???). How is that for looking on the bright side?
And then there´s the neighborhood. I already knew I loved it when I moved here several years ago. But now, having returned here, I see just how excellent it is.
* little shops: there are dozens of little shops within walking-distance. Dozens. Meat-shops, flower-shops, the movie-rental place, travel-agency, peluquerias, bars, coffee-shops, banks, book-stores, "chinos", bakeries, shoe-menders, fish/vegetable-shops, pharmacies, electronics, et cetera.
and, could it get any better?:
* I can walk from my apartment-building to each and every one of these places without getting rained on or scorched by the sun, when necessary. My building connects to the other 20-some buildings in the neighborhood through covered walk-ways. We can sit at a table outside a bar, have a coffee or two, and Ari can run around in sight. It is ideal for people with kids and strollers.
En fin. There is plenty to do before it will feel "just right", and it´s not the house of our dreams, but we are quite at ease here.
First impressions count when it comes to houses (as they do with people), but it takes time to discover the little things that you either like or dislike about your new residence. The creaks of certain doors, your neighbors´bad taste in music, the lack of light in certain rooms, bad water-pressure (a pet-peeve), closet-doors that don´t open easily....
But, there is much to love about this place. It is neither luxurious nor notably spacious, but I had a feeling that it would prove very livable. And it has.This is why:
*Closet-space: this place boasts so much storage-space! we´ve accumulated so much stuff throughout the years, that the space-issue was a not only a plus, but a prerequisite. it has helped us get organized.
*Windows: (possibly related to the fact that I come from a country of houses with big windows) I love windows. The living-room has a wall of windows, and I could not be more delighted. It stormed the other night, and I just sat there....on the couch, looking at the grey and restless sky.
*Book-wall: the living-room has a wall of built-in shelving. Perfect for book-hoarders. My boxes of books will arrive several weeks from now, and I am thrilled to have the shelf-space to display them.
*Balcony: this is directly related to the space-thing. We have an enclosed balcony, not wide (or sunny) enough for plants, and not suitable as a hang-out place, but it is just what I needed to manage the laundry. My laundry-rack sits there, out of our way, dry when necessary, and in the fresh air when the weather permits (all I have to do is open 1 or 2 windows). Moreover, it, too, has a closet for miscellany. It serves as a laundry-room, shed, and pantry.
*The fourth bedroom, now an office/music-room. We thought of using this open room (connected to our living-room) as a dining-room, but decided it had more potential. Daniel convinced me that it could be put to better use, and it now holds his music-collection. Once our wooden chest, black chair, and woolly brown checkered rug arrive from Holland, this room will be well on its way to becoming the coziest nook on this side of the Atlantic.
I´ve lived in many houses. There have been prettier ones, two (one in SC, the other just down the street) with splendid terrace/porch-spaces.... However, I have never before been quite so happy with how I´ve been able to organize my belongings. Shelves, drawers, etc. Everything in its right place. We´ve had to be creative, but it works wonderfully. (i.e. one of our 2 bath-tubs now hides our 3 laundry-hampers. the hampers sit in the tub, and all I have to do is open the tub´s sliding doors, and voila!, there are the 3 color-coordinated hampers. Out of sight. By the way, it took me about 2 hours of scrubbing and complaining to discover that, 1, it would not work as a bath (FILTHY!), and, thus, 2, it needed an alternative function. Who needs 2 bathtubs, anyway???). How is that for looking on the bright side?And then there´s the neighborhood. I already knew I loved it when I moved here several years ago. But now, having returned here, I see just how excellent it is.
* little shops: there are dozens of little shops within walking-distance. Dozens. Meat-shops, flower-shops, the movie-rental place, travel-agency, peluquerias, bars, coffee-shops, banks, book-stores, "chinos", bakeries, shoe-menders, fish/vegetable-shops, pharmacies, electronics, et cetera.
and, could it get any better?:
* I can walk from my apartment-building to each and every one of these places without getting rained on or scorched by the sun, when necessary. My building connects to the other 20-some buildings in the neighborhood through covered walk-ways. We can sit at a table outside a bar, have a coffee or two, and Ari can run around in sight. It is ideal for people with kids and strollers.
En fin. There is plenty to do before it will feel "just right", and it´s not the house of our dreams, but we are quite at ease here.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
These are things that I don´t understand.....
Sometimes it pays to be poor. This would be lovely if we were just a tad poorer than we are.
Unfortunately, we´re always in the "no-[pay] José!" category.
It has been a rotten day, so this is rotten rant #286.
I have told you all about my trips to the pre-school we wanted Ari to go to. Sadly, it didn´t want Ari to go there. The system decided it would do everything in its power to keep average people like us away.
Again, I rushed, I went through the red tape, I tried to jump through the hoops, tried the "enchufe" route by approaching the helpful principal of the school, but all of this to no avail. Ari, Anika, and I walked over to the school one last time this morning and discovered that it has no place for normal people. Let me explain:
STUPIDLY, admission revolves around a point-system. The only category that made any sense to me was the proximity of home to school. We got all the points for that: the school is 3 minutes away from our house. That´s where our chances ended. Ari, along with about 50 other kids, was on the no-admission list. 85% of the prospective students have siblings that already attend the school. The remainder of the "plazas" were given to the poor, the disabled, and those students who come from "familias numerosas" (families with more than 3 children).
No waiting-lists, no first in line, nothing else matters at all. I´ve been thinking and fuming all day. You see, the thing that strikes me is this: Daniel and I are not rich. We wouldn´t even say that we´re middle class. Really. There is a reason I am looking for a job. We don´t own a car, we don´t own a home, and we certainly don´t dress the part of pijos. We do, however, live in a nice neighborhood. Not a fancy neighborhood, but a young family-oriented area of our city. There is a serious shortage of schools due to this. As a result, well over 100 kids (of Ari´s age, especially) are in the same situation: school-less due to a lack of points. Where are they going to go? Am I going to have to get Ari up at dawn, so that she can attend a school on the other side of town? Is she going to be assigned to one of the few schools that actually has a place for her, probably because it is completely run-down, and all the other kids were assigned places in our neighborhood because their parents don´t make any money?? ANY money.
That´s the strange thing. Even the majority of the kids on the not-admitted list happened to have points in the money-section. How did they get points there? Are people THAT poor? How can they live here, in our nice neighborhood, if we have a really hard time getting by from month to month on what we consider a pretty average income? (in order to have gotten those points, they have to be earning just one half or quarter of what we earn).
I am dumbfounded. I really am. We are not wealthy enough to let Ari attend any of the international schools in Madrid... We can´t even afford the car to drive her there!
We are certainly not reaping the benefits of the wealthy, not by any stretch of the imagination. But we are not poor enough to get anything else, either. We are, apparently, in the rotten middle.
Don´t get me wrong: I am grateful for what we have. We have a (nice) roof above our heads, food in our fridge, clothes to wear, etc. But I thought we could, (especially through my manic efforts & punctuality) at least, send Ari to a "decent" school in our neighborhood. So that I can go to work & help us make it from one month to the next. If Daniel made 1/4 of what he makes, we´d have a place on that list. And that really infuriates me. We weren´t trying to get Ari into a posh school.
I tried, by the way, to find out if we could still send her to a pseudo-private school (concertado). There is one just down the street. See, this option would be cheaper than either a private school or daycare, so I figured it may be our only option. As I was standing there, at reception desk, I saw a line of 3-year olds with their teacher, reciting "Hail- Mary" and blowing kisses at her shrine. It is, after all, funded by the opus dei; I doubted much whether that´s the place for Ari.
We are just not rich enough, not poor enough, and not Catholic enough.
We are falling through the cracks.
Unfortunately, we´re always in the "no-[pay] José!" category.
It has been a rotten day, so this is rotten rant #286.
I have told you all about my trips to the pre-school we wanted Ari to go to. Sadly, it didn´t want Ari to go there. The system decided it would do everything in its power to keep average people like us away.
Again, I rushed, I went through the red tape, I tried to jump through the hoops, tried the "enchufe" route by approaching the helpful principal of the school, but all of this to no avail. Ari, Anika, and I walked over to the school one last time this morning and discovered that it has no place for normal people. Let me explain:
STUPIDLY, admission revolves around a point-system. The only category that made any sense to me was the proximity of home to school. We got all the points for that: the school is 3 minutes away from our house. That´s where our chances ended. Ari, along with about 50 other kids, was on the no-admission list. 85% of the prospective students have siblings that already attend the school. The remainder of the "plazas" were given to the poor, the disabled, and those students who come from "familias numerosas" (families with more than 3 children).
No waiting-lists, no first in line, nothing else matters at all. I´ve been thinking and fuming all day. You see, the thing that strikes me is this: Daniel and I are not rich. We wouldn´t even say that we´re middle class. Really. There is a reason I am looking for a job. We don´t own a car, we don´t own a home, and we certainly don´t dress the part of pijos. We do, however, live in a nice neighborhood. Not a fancy neighborhood, but a young family-oriented area of our city. There is a serious shortage of schools due to this. As a result, well over 100 kids (of Ari´s age, especially) are in the same situation: school-less due to a lack of points. Where are they going to go? Am I going to have to get Ari up at dawn, so that she can attend a school on the other side of town? Is she going to be assigned to one of the few schools that actually has a place for her, probably because it is completely run-down, and all the other kids were assigned places in our neighborhood because their parents don´t make any money?? ANY money.
That´s the strange thing. Even the majority of the kids on the not-admitted list happened to have points in the money-section. How did they get points there? Are people THAT poor? How can they live here, in our nice neighborhood, if we have a really hard time getting by from month to month on what we consider a pretty average income? (in order to have gotten those points, they have to be earning just one half or quarter of what we earn).
I am dumbfounded. I really am. We are not wealthy enough to let Ari attend any of the international schools in Madrid... We can´t even afford the car to drive her there!
We are certainly not reaping the benefits of the wealthy, not by any stretch of the imagination. But we are not poor enough to get anything else, either. We are, apparently, in the rotten middle.
Don´t get me wrong: I am grateful for what we have. We have a (nice) roof above our heads, food in our fridge, clothes to wear, etc. But I thought we could, (especially through my manic efforts & punctuality) at least, send Ari to a "decent" school in our neighborhood. So that I can go to work & help us make it from one month to the next. If Daniel made 1/4 of what he makes, we´d have a place on that list. And that really infuriates me. We weren´t trying to get Ari into a posh school.
I tried, by the way, to find out if we could still send her to a pseudo-private school (concertado). There is one just down the street. See, this option would be cheaper than either a private school or daycare, so I figured it may be our only option. As I was standing there, at reception desk, I saw a line of 3-year olds with their teacher, reciting "Hail- Mary" and blowing kisses at her shrine. It is, after all, funded by the opus dei; I doubted much whether that´s the place for Ari.
We are just not rich enough, not poor enough, and not Catholic enough.
We are falling through the cracks.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
The sting of parenting...
(or is this just another empty-glass version of it?)
Lately, I´ve been thinking of parenthood; beauties and difficulties, the whole lovely mess of it. (clearly, I´ve hardly done anything else since Ari´s birth....considering the issue permeates this blog)
Well, I´ve noticed a trend, and I think it all comes down to this:
the sting of parenting, for me, is the continual shifting from hopefulness to disillusionment. Wow, that sounds negative. Let me explain:
1)Hopefulness: just that. Hopes for a bright future, blah bluh blah. It must, inherently, be a hope for universal betterment, or something. Our children are the future. It´s a cliché for a reason: this has been the idea throughout the centuries, hasn´t it?
Thus, our children come into the world, and we place a huge burden (unwittingly & subconsciously, perhaps, at first) on them. They seem perfect, and we convince ourselves that it is up to us to make them the best of their kind. Of our kind. To instill in them all the values that we strive to cultivate in ourselves, or to teach them what we hoped to learn for ourselves...
Then, as the months go by, and the children become just a little less perfect, we all take a tumble. We all fall from Grace- just a little. And then, suddenly, we´re here:
2) Disillusionment: they weren´t supposed to turn out like this. We were going to be better examples, we were going to make this world a better place. indirectly. through those little ones.
Maybe I´m a little insane. Everyone knows, going into it, that it´s going to be virtually impossible to really raise perfect social beings. Right? I knew it, but I expected more from myself. I expected to be a better model to my daughters. Slow to anger, paying attention to the important things, etc.. And then, when I see my failures through my daughter´s (mis-)behavior, I cringe a bit.
I wonder how other generations went about it. We (this generation of parents) seem to take it so seriously. We´ve become so introspective, and we (over-) analyze everything, including our parenting. Narcissism, I guess. We give ourselves all the credit for the good and the bad. Probably a flawed perspective. Again. Agh. I want to live by the Proverbs. Really. I´ve found so much practical knowledge in the Proverbs, and in what the Dutch refer to as "tegeltjeswijsheid" (try pronouncing that! HA! That´s not even close to the longest Dutch word) basically, "tile-wisdom". The quotations you find on printed tiles.... My dad uses them in conversation all the time, and it´s so helpful. Basic little rules of "sensible living". In the tradition of "Early to bed, early to rise...." It´s silly of me, but I always find that just reciting these (common sense) sayings helps return me to the real world, and to the task at hand. Which is, of course, just doing the best I can, and helping my kids learn the basic principles of responsible living & altruism, etc.
Lately, I´ve been thinking of parenthood; beauties and difficulties, the whole lovely mess of it. (clearly, I´ve hardly done anything else since Ari´s birth....considering the issue permeates this blog)
Well, I´ve noticed a trend, and I think it all comes down to this:
the sting of parenting, for me, is the continual shifting from hopefulness to disillusionment. Wow, that sounds negative. Let me explain:
1)Hopefulness: just that. Hopes for a bright future, blah bluh blah. It must, inherently, be a hope for universal betterment, or something. Our children are the future. It´s a cliché for a reason: this has been the idea throughout the centuries, hasn´t it?
Thus, our children come into the world, and we place a huge burden (unwittingly & subconsciously, perhaps, at first) on them. They seem perfect, and we convince ourselves that it is up to us to make them the best of their kind. Of our kind. To instill in them all the values that we strive to cultivate in ourselves, or to teach them what we hoped to learn for ourselves...
Then, as the months go by, and the children become just a little less perfect, we all take a tumble. We all fall from Grace- just a little. And then, suddenly, we´re here:
2) Disillusionment: they weren´t supposed to turn out like this. We were going to be better examples, we were going to make this world a better place. indirectly. through those little ones.
Maybe I´m a little insane. Everyone knows, going into it, that it´s going to be virtually impossible to really raise perfect social beings. Right? I knew it, but I expected more from myself. I expected to be a better model to my daughters. Slow to anger, paying attention to the important things, etc.. And then, when I see my failures through my daughter´s (mis-)behavior, I cringe a bit.
I wonder how other generations went about it. We (this generation of parents) seem to take it so seriously. We´ve become so introspective, and we (over-) analyze everything, including our parenting. Narcissism, I guess. We give ourselves all the credit for the good and the bad. Probably a flawed perspective. Again. Agh. I want to live by the Proverbs. Really. I´ve found so much practical knowledge in the Proverbs, and in what the Dutch refer to as "tegeltjeswijsheid" (try pronouncing that! HA! That´s not even close to the longest Dutch word) basically, "tile-wisdom". The quotations you find on printed tiles.... My dad uses them in conversation all the time, and it´s so helpful. Basic little rules of "sensible living". In the tradition of "Early to bed, early to rise...." It´s silly of me, but I always find that just reciting these (common sense) sayings helps return me to the real world, and to the task at hand. Which is, of course, just doing the best I can, and helping my kids learn the basic principles of responsible living & altruism, etc.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
An ode to Imperfection....
or something like that.
Last weekend, we moved back to the old neighborhood (to the most recent old neighborhood, if you follow...). Getting ready for this particular move has been close to unbearable, despite our eagerness to leave the pueblo & to recover a home of our own.
Both of us have had our share of long- and short-distance moving, but this one was more stressful than all the previous moves combined. Really.
This time around, we were responsible for almost everything. It was up to us (well, ME, especially) to find the house (making lists, establishing the criteria, visiting the potential homes), pack & unpack everything we´ve accumulated throughout the last 4 years... all the while, of course, keeping the children fed and entertained, the bills paid (through a job that my husband has come to loathe), finding an additional source of income (for me, this time), and registering our children at the daycare/pre-school. We have come this close to losing it.
Not to say that we haven´t had any help. Friends & family have been gracious to us, as usual, but it has been a tough winter-spring. We tried to keep things in perspective, we tried to make long-term plans, as a distraction-method (plans of settling elsewhere, into a more laid-back lifestyle; the dream we recycle year after year).. nonetheless, there has been a lot of tension.
The guilt of how our children must be experiencing these changes and tensions plagues me to no end... but then I remember that we (humans, that is) are resilient. (and young humans, especially).
I´ve gotten into the ugly habit of yelling. I never thought I was a yeller. It turns out that I, too, can be one of those moms....the kind of mother at whom more patient mothers roll their eyes. It´s not an easy thing to discover. Such a contrast with my earlier, more cheerful, mothering.
So, I sat there amid the boxes and the chaos, after many stressful days, "comiéndome el coco," and wishing I could just stay calm in front of the kids. Many evenings, I crashed on the couch and watched hours-worth of a funny TV-show....regardless of the sleep-deprivation. I laughed at the awkwardness of their fictional lives, at their ridiculous behavior, and at the horrid monotony of their world. A waste of time, perhaps, but it serves to remind me that, even in the stressful moments, it´s alright just to laugh at life and at our imperfections.
So I waver between wanting to be perfect in front of my children and accepting that I am a "normal" mother, like all the rest. Almost daily, I read through a bunch of parenting-blogs, in search of commonality, I suppose. Sometimes, at the end of an article, I close my computer with a new resolution, equipped with a new & improved mothering-method of some sort. The kids wake up from their naps, I greet them with confidence..... and then life happens. Multi-tasking is no piece of cake; not even for mothers. Adieu resolutions, adieu intent.
Inspiration for laid-back parents:
www.sweet-juniper.com
http://freerangekids.wordpress.com/
Last weekend, we moved back to the old neighborhood (to the most recent old neighborhood, if you follow...). Getting ready for this particular move has been close to unbearable, despite our eagerness to leave the pueblo & to recover a home of our own.
Both of us have had our share of long- and short-distance moving, but this one was more stressful than all the previous moves combined. Really.
This time around, we were responsible for almost everything. It was up to us (well, ME, especially) to find the house (making lists, establishing the criteria, visiting the potential homes), pack & unpack everything we´ve accumulated throughout the last 4 years... all the while, of course, keeping the children fed and entertained, the bills paid (through a job that my husband has come to loathe), finding an additional source of income (for me, this time), and registering our children at the daycare/pre-school. We have come this close to losing it.
Not to say that we haven´t had any help. Friends & family have been gracious to us, as usual, but it has been a tough winter-spring. We tried to keep things in perspective, we tried to make long-term plans, as a distraction-method (plans of settling elsewhere, into a more laid-back lifestyle; the dream we recycle year after year).. nonetheless, there has been a lot of tension.
The guilt of how our children must be experiencing these changes and tensions plagues me to no end... but then I remember that we (humans, that is) are resilient. (and young humans, especially).
I´ve gotten into the ugly habit of yelling. I never thought I was a yeller. It turns out that I, too, can be one of those moms....the kind of mother at whom more patient mothers roll their eyes. It´s not an easy thing to discover. Such a contrast with my earlier, more cheerful, mothering.
So, I sat there amid the boxes and the chaos, after many stressful days, "comiéndome el coco," and wishing I could just stay calm in front of the kids. Many evenings, I crashed on the couch and watched hours-worth of a funny TV-show....regardless of the sleep-deprivation. I laughed at the awkwardness of their fictional lives, at their ridiculous behavior, and at the horrid monotony of their world. A waste of time, perhaps, but it serves to remind me that, even in the stressful moments, it´s alright just to laugh at life and at our imperfections.
So I waver between wanting to be perfect in front of my children and accepting that I am a "normal" mother, like all the rest. Almost daily, I read through a bunch of parenting-blogs, in search of commonality, I suppose. Sometimes, at the end of an article, I close my computer with a new resolution, equipped with a new & improved mothering-method of some sort. The kids wake up from their naps, I greet them with confidence..... and then life happens. Multi-tasking is no piece of cake; not even for mothers. Adieu resolutions, adieu intent.
Inspiration for laid-back parents:
www.sweet-juniper.com
http://freerangekids.wordpress.com/
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
A familiar rant.....
Packing to move into yet another house.... It´s overwhelming- all the stuff that we´ve accumulated. Every now and then, in a burst of energy & motivation, I pack several boxes, efficiently and quickly. Then, for several hours (or days) in a row, I do nothing. I just sit and look at all the junk, not knowing what to do with it, and I wonder how much we will have collected twenty years from now. I am hoping we´ll eventually learn the art of living more simply. Clutter = chaos.
When will I learn to focus my energies on one thing??? And to go for that; to pour my whole heart and soul into the chasing of my dreams.... of one dream. If I am to believe my type-profile (the Myers-Briggs); I could accomplish great things if I could just learn to narrow down my interests. Daniel thinks that I treat the personality-tests as a sort of horoscope. I know what he means. But I´ve learned a lot about myself: the type has put a name on things that I have always known about myself, but never really understood or appreciated. It has helped me accept certain aspects of my personality. It´s alright not to be as organized as "Js". It´s okay to think out loud. All these tendencies can be approached from several angles: I could be ashamed of being fickle... or I could embrace the fact that I see a world of possibilities. It´s all about learning to turn "weaknesses" into strengths. What have you learned about yourselves? Some of you like these tests as much as I do, I know.
I guess I am just hoping that I´ll figure it out one day: that I´ll find something specific to focus on and aim for. Something great.
These days have been so strange for Daniel and me. We just can´t figure it out. Life. We can´t decide what it is that we´re hoping for. What to invest in. Obviously, we have the kids. Their well-being comes first. Those two little people are the most beautiful dream. But we´re trying to remember our older pursuits : we need to find something that we can work towards together. Knowing that the place where we settle will shape the way we raise our children... it´s overwhelming. There are so many vague ideas: we need to find out what exactly it is that we can invest in together. I envy the people whose dreams are more defined. The people who have a clear goal and take the steps necessary to get there.
¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨
blegh. More of the same. My mind is a bit tired. Can you tell?
When will I learn to focus my energies on one thing??? And to go for that; to pour my whole heart and soul into the chasing of my dreams.... of one dream. If I am to believe my type-profile (the Myers-Briggs); I could accomplish great things if I could just learn to narrow down my interests. Daniel thinks that I treat the personality-tests as a sort of horoscope. I know what he means. But I´ve learned a lot about myself: the type has put a name on things that I have always known about myself, but never really understood or appreciated. It has helped me accept certain aspects of my personality. It´s alright not to be as organized as "Js". It´s okay to think out loud. All these tendencies can be approached from several angles: I could be ashamed of being fickle... or I could embrace the fact that I see a world of possibilities. It´s all about learning to turn "weaknesses" into strengths. What have you learned about yourselves? Some of you like these tests as much as I do, I know.
I guess I am just hoping that I´ll figure it out one day: that I´ll find something specific to focus on and aim for. Something great.
These days have been so strange for Daniel and me. We just can´t figure it out. Life. We can´t decide what it is that we´re hoping for. What to invest in. Obviously, we have the kids. Their well-being comes first. Those two little people are the most beautiful dream. But we´re trying to remember our older pursuits : we need to find something that we can work towards together. Knowing that the place where we settle will shape the way we raise our children... it´s overwhelming. There are so many vague ideas: we need to find out what exactly it is that we can invest in together. I envy the people whose dreams are more defined. The people who have a clear goal and take the steps necessary to get there.
¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨
blegh. More of the same. My mind is a bit tired. Can you tell?
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
We are.....
.....how we cook????
In light of the recent discussion on personality-tests, I propose the following:
our cooking-styles reflect our personality quite accurately.
(no, I haven´t lost my mind. and, yes, Daniel, I know that you will probably think this is rubbish).
Leth was discussing the Myers-Briggs test, and I happen to be headed to a M-B seminar this morning: a friend of mine (member of my mothering-group) is a licensed consultant of the test, and she will explain how our "type" affects our mothering, particularly.
Anyhow, I am taking the test AGAIN (for the sixth time in 5 years, I think) right now, and I couldn´t help but think of my cooking-style, while answering the questions.
Consider all the questions that regard adherence to "the accepted way" of doing things. As much as I care about "normalcy," I generally prefer to invent new ways of doing things. But it´s not so straightforward. Thus, I never quite know which option to choose, and wish the test allowed for side-notes and explanations.
My cooking-habits came to mind. Yesterday, I decided to make sesame/honey- roasted pork. I´ve been trying to introduce some new meals into our diet, because we´re all getting a little tired of "pasta with white sauce and zucchini", or "chicken/pineapple-curry". I found a bag of sesame-seeds in my kitchen and took some pork out of the freezer. Here comes the part that relates to the personality-question:
-First, I looked up recipes that called for a combination of pork and sesame.
-Then, I used every ingredient on the list.
-Finally, I added some other ingredients (asparagus....strange, huh?), and mixed it all together without much attention to the instructions.
I cooked the sesame-pork as I cook everything else: inspired by someone else´s recipe, with a twist. Mostly, in a very messy way. Messy, as in unpredictable, not untidily.
My cooking-style is creative and impulsive. This results in some meal-surprises, some good, and others bad.
Consider Daniel´s style, then. One of the reasons I prefer to do the cooking myself is this:
Daniel thinks for a long while about every last grain of salt that he is planning to put into the pan. Then, he thinks even longer about how each ingredient should be cut, washed, and placed into the pan. And that´s just how he decides on a meal. He then proceeds in very much the same manner: putting a lot of care into every last detail of the meal. Cutting the veggies just so, stirring every so many minutes, and adding just enough of the perfect and pre-elected spices. It takes an eternity. Of course, the end result is usually fabulous. (and, it´s safe to say that Daniel is every bit as creative as I am, if not more, but he is more of a craftsman...)
My meals are prepared very differently. In general, I cook three times faster than Daniel. But I have a lot more accidents in the kitchen, and my meals are not always edible, especially when I´ve been a tad too impulsive.
See my point?
* Of course, Daniel would never agree that his kitchen-habits have anything to do with his personality. In fact, he would never agree that he has a "type" at all. :-)
In light of the recent discussion on personality-tests, I propose the following:
our cooking-styles reflect our personality quite accurately.
(no, I haven´t lost my mind. and, yes, Daniel, I know that you will probably think this is rubbish).
Leth was discussing the Myers-Briggs test, and I happen to be headed to a M-B seminar this morning: a friend of mine (member of my mothering-group) is a licensed consultant of the test, and she will explain how our "type" affects our mothering, particularly.
Anyhow, I am taking the test AGAIN (for the sixth time in 5 years, I think) right now, and I couldn´t help but think of my cooking-style, while answering the questions.
Consider all the questions that regard adherence to "the accepted way" of doing things. As much as I care about "normalcy," I generally prefer to invent new ways of doing things. But it´s not so straightforward. Thus, I never quite know which option to choose, and wish the test allowed for side-notes and explanations.
My cooking-habits came to mind. Yesterday, I decided to make sesame/honey- roasted pork. I´ve been trying to introduce some new meals into our diet, because we´re all getting a little tired of "pasta with white sauce and zucchini", or "chicken/pineapple-curry". I found a bag of sesame-seeds in my kitchen and took some pork out of the freezer. Here comes the part that relates to the personality-question:
-First, I looked up recipes that called for a combination of pork and sesame.
-Then, I used every ingredient on the list.
-Finally, I added some other ingredients (asparagus....strange, huh?), and mixed it all together without much attention to the instructions.
I cooked the sesame-pork as I cook everything else: inspired by someone else´s recipe, with a twist. Mostly, in a very messy way. Messy, as in unpredictable, not untidily.
My cooking-style is creative and impulsive. This results in some meal-surprises, some good, and others bad.
Consider Daniel´s style, then. One of the reasons I prefer to do the cooking myself is this:
Daniel thinks for a long while about every last grain of salt that he is planning to put into the pan. Then, he thinks even longer about how each ingredient should be cut, washed, and placed into the pan. And that´s just how he decides on a meal. He then proceeds in very much the same manner: putting a lot of care into every last detail of the meal. Cutting the veggies just so, stirring every so many minutes, and adding just enough of the perfect and pre-elected spices. It takes an eternity. Of course, the end result is usually fabulous. (and, it´s safe to say that Daniel is every bit as creative as I am, if not more, but he is more of a craftsman...)
My meals are prepared very differently. In general, I cook three times faster than Daniel. But I have a lot more accidents in the kitchen, and my meals are not always edible, especially when I´ve been a tad too impulsive.
See my point?
* Of course, Daniel would never agree that his kitchen-habits have anything to do with his personality. In fact, he would never agree that he has a "type" at all. :-)
Thursday, April 15, 2010
If I were you........
Advice is a tricky thing. I´ve been asking for a lot of advice lately (due to the fact that our life has been a bit chaotic lately), and others have asked me for advice more frequently than usual, and I am not sure where I stand on this issue.
(on the issue of advice, that is).
I´ve relied on advice very much. In fact, sometimes I seem incapable of making a decision without having previously asked for advice from family members or friends. Or without, at least, having heard the opinion of someone else. But how much is it really worth?
The reason I question the value of advice is, simply, because people so often end up doing what they were pre-programmed to do, anyway. We hear what we want to hear, don´t we? And once we´ve heard something, we have our own thoughts to reckon with.
That´s a bit simplistic, I guess, and I know that advice serves a purpose. But, how can anyone say, "If I were you, I´d...."? The more I hear or say it, the more ridiculous it seems.
I can say a few things about marriage, having been married for about 4 years. I can say a couple of things about motherhood, too, because I have 2 kids. But I can only say things that apply to my situation. As soon as these issues concern another person (i.e. someone unmarried, someone who has just become a parent), my advice is as irrelevant as the advice of a non-parent, or a single person.
What works for me might not work for someone else. And vice versa. Still, I am so quick to give my opinion. So eager to say, "why don´t you try to do this?, or "you should just do that". I´m so interested in other people´s lives & opinions, that I forget (just for a moment, anyway) that I will eventually base my decisions on my particular personality, impulses, situation, and predisposition, and NOT on what others have done, or "would" do.
Of course, advice doesn´t have to be so specific. To me, advice just ends up adding issues to my lists of "pros and cons". I look at advice differently now. Every now and then, people say something that is actually helpful and practical (usually the people who know me best & have more of a right to say,"if I were you"), but in the end we do things our own way, whether we intend to, or not.
All I am saying is that I´m going to try not to give advice so quickly. We can swap ideas with other people, but it´s mainly just a matter of listening to others, and saying, "that´s interesting....... have you considered this, or that?" and little more.
(on the issue of advice, that is).
I´ve relied on advice very much. In fact, sometimes I seem incapable of making a decision without having previously asked for advice from family members or friends. Or without, at least, having heard the opinion of someone else. But how much is it really worth?
The reason I question the value of advice is, simply, because people so often end up doing what they were pre-programmed to do, anyway. We hear what we want to hear, don´t we? And once we´ve heard something, we have our own thoughts to reckon with.
That´s a bit simplistic, I guess, and I know that advice serves a purpose. But, how can anyone say, "If I were you, I´d...."? The more I hear or say it, the more ridiculous it seems.
I can say a few things about marriage, having been married for about 4 years. I can say a couple of things about motherhood, too, because I have 2 kids. But I can only say things that apply to my situation. As soon as these issues concern another person (i.e. someone unmarried, someone who has just become a parent), my advice is as irrelevant as the advice of a non-parent, or a single person.
What works for me might not work for someone else. And vice versa. Still, I am so quick to give my opinion. So eager to say, "why don´t you try to do this?, or "you should just do that". I´m so interested in other people´s lives & opinions, that I forget (just for a moment, anyway) that I will eventually base my decisions on my particular personality, impulses, situation, and predisposition, and NOT on what others have done, or "would" do.
Of course, advice doesn´t have to be so specific. To me, advice just ends up adding issues to my lists of "pros and cons". I look at advice differently now. Every now and then, people say something that is actually helpful and practical (usually the people who know me best & have more of a right to say,"if I were you"), but in the end we do things our own way, whether we intend to, or not.
All I am saying is that I´m going to try not to give advice so quickly. We can swap ideas with other people, but it´s mainly just a matter of listening to others, and saying, "that´s interesting....... have you considered this, or that?" and little more.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Notes on a Rainy Afternoon
Don´t cross mothers. Or fathers, I guess. It´s a secret rule in the universal parenting-club.
Why? Well, having children makes one slightly more vicious. It´s the protective instinct, I suppose. In general, I´m not super assertive. But motherhood has changed that: when it comes to arranging things for my kids, I want to be the first one in the line.
Take this, for example:
This morning, I left the kids with Daniel while I got on yet another early bus in order to finalize the registration-process. After three useless trips to the prospective pre-school, I was going to be the first one in line again, but this time, I had every last copy, every silly section of the form filled in/out. I travel long distances, I walk through the rain, I make my way from one town to the next, I rush and stress in order to make arrangements for my kids. There is little, if any, reward for such effort in this country.
NOTHING, and I am not exaggerating, NOTHING is straightforward in this country. The system is flawed and inefficient. If anything happens to fall into place at first attempt it is by some odd miracle...and probably only ever through goodwill, or "enchufe". Most of you know it well. Years of paperwork should have taught me that, but I keep trying to be a step ahead of the system. Strangely, I keep convincing myself that I can beat the system by hurrying, by bringing along that extra copy of that extra document. Just in case. But it´s useless.
Well, last week, I headed to the school one week too early, both kids in tow. I rushed and ran, only to be told that I had been misinformed. I was not a happy camper.
This week, I made a second trip (again, getting up before 6:00), decided to try the friendly approach. I talked to the secretaries, showed my documents, and heard that, "so sorry", but the form that they had handed me 5 minutes before absolutely needed to be signed by both of the parents. In a window of 40 minutes. Everything else checked out, but the trip was a complete waste of time yet again because they had not bothered to tell me this in advance (or to give me the forms beforehand so that I could get it all in order).
I would no longer be the first to apply for a place & the suspense was enough to drive me insane. It was this school that I had selected.
So, another day, another manic trip to the school offices, and I knew this was going to be the rewarding one. I knew it, until the secretaries decided they no longer remembered a particular question they had answered the day before. Moreover, they decided I needed a copy of the document that had been deemed unnecessary the day before. I was this close to losing my temper. "No me lo puedo creer!" (I can´t believe it), I said. They must have taken pity on me, because FOR ONCE they decided to help me out a little. Or maybe they were just terrified when they saw my frown and heard my "tssssss". They agreed to copy the document in their office, allowing me to keep my place in the line. Ari figured 7th on the sign-up list of her grade, and hopefully, it will guarantee her place in the school.
The thing is: as I stood there in the rain this morning, I saw all those mothers standing there with their forms in "kung fu grip"... and I thought, "I have joined the fiercest of gangs".* Even the most phlegmatic of people will become intimidatingly assertive and competitive when they start parenthood. In a way, it´s a good development. This is not a country for the reserved. Everything takes years, there is never easy access to information... It comes down to survival of the fittest, the meanest, and the loudest, more frequently than not.
*But then again, maybe I´m just unusually difficult.
(unfortunately, it´s futile to try to change the system. I always try to fight it: I confront the clerks all the time. I get mad. But they make it difficult on purpose. I am convinced. )
On a completely different note:
Do you know those moments that give you a glimpse of your past life? No, not literally a past "life," but an earlier phase of life that has almost passed into oblivion. Every now and then, something reminds me of earlier, more simple, times. Strangely, this usually involves public transportation. I guess it used to be a huge part of my life: getting on and off the bus, to and from school. I would catch the bus early in the mornings, my headphones on, my backpack in the chair beside me, or on my lap. It was a walkman first, and I would push the rewind button...to repeat a part of a song that got drowned out by the noise of some loud passenger. Later, I had a more modern discman, and a couple of cds in my bag. I am convinced that trains and busses (buses? weird word) stimulate brain-activity. Or maybe it is just the scenery.
I am always exceptionally pensive when I am on the train or bus. (at least, when my children are not with me!)
Anyhow: today, as I sat in my preferred seat on the bus (not accompanied by the children, for once), I noticed a group of High Schoolers. I got my iPod ready, put in the earphones, and thought, "how things have changed!". It has become such a luxury: to sit in silence, or to listen to music while looking out the bus-window, or to read a book. (digression: Sartre´s "What is Literature" is not ideal reading material for bus-trips. It´s hard enough to get through a paragraph at home. So far, it has taken me about 2 hours to read 22 pages. Shameful!!). But, the funny thing is, I looked exactly the way I did ten years ago. I must be at least 8 years older than those kids, yet I could easily have joined them on their way to school. I doubt they would ever suspect that I am a mother & housewife. I felt old and young at once.
The passing of time. Odd.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Rain, too, makes one especially pensive.
Why? Well, having children makes one slightly more vicious. It´s the protective instinct, I suppose. In general, I´m not super assertive. But motherhood has changed that: when it comes to arranging things for my kids, I want to be the first one in the line.
Take this, for example:
This morning, I left the kids with Daniel while I got on yet another early bus in order to finalize the registration-process. After three useless trips to the prospective pre-school, I was going to be the first one in line again, but this time, I had every last copy, every silly section of the form filled in/out. I travel long distances, I walk through the rain, I make my way from one town to the next, I rush and stress in order to make arrangements for my kids. There is little, if any, reward for such effort in this country.
NOTHING, and I am not exaggerating, NOTHING is straightforward in this country. The system is flawed and inefficient. If anything happens to fall into place at first attempt it is by some odd miracle...and probably only ever through goodwill, or "enchufe". Most of you know it well. Years of paperwork should have taught me that, but I keep trying to be a step ahead of the system. Strangely, I keep convincing myself that I can beat the system by hurrying, by bringing along that extra copy of that extra document. Just in case. But it´s useless.
Well, last week, I headed to the school one week too early, both kids in tow. I rushed and ran, only to be told that I had been misinformed. I was not a happy camper.
This week, I made a second trip (again, getting up before 6:00), decided to try the friendly approach. I talked to the secretaries, showed my documents, and heard that, "so sorry", but the form that they had handed me 5 minutes before absolutely needed to be signed by both of the parents. In a window of 40 minutes. Everything else checked out, but the trip was a complete waste of time yet again because they had not bothered to tell me this in advance (or to give me the forms beforehand so that I could get it all in order).
I would no longer be the first to apply for a place & the suspense was enough to drive me insane. It was this school that I had selected.
So, another day, another manic trip to the school offices, and I knew this was going to be the rewarding one. I knew it, until the secretaries decided they no longer remembered a particular question they had answered the day before. Moreover, they decided I needed a copy of the document that had been deemed unnecessary the day before. I was this close to losing my temper. "No me lo puedo creer!" (I can´t believe it), I said. They must have taken pity on me, because FOR ONCE they decided to help me out a little. Or maybe they were just terrified when they saw my frown and heard my "tssssss". They agreed to copy the document in their office, allowing me to keep my place in the line. Ari figured 7th on the sign-up list of her grade, and hopefully, it will guarantee her place in the school.
The thing is: as I stood there in the rain this morning, I saw all those mothers standing there with their forms in "kung fu grip"... and I thought, "I have joined the fiercest of gangs".* Even the most phlegmatic of people will become intimidatingly assertive and competitive when they start parenthood. In a way, it´s a good development. This is not a country for the reserved. Everything takes years, there is never easy access to information... It comes down to survival of the fittest, the meanest, and the loudest, more frequently than not.
*But then again, maybe I´m just unusually difficult.
(unfortunately, it´s futile to try to change the system. I always try to fight it: I confront the clerks all the time. I get mad. But they make it difficult on purpose. I am convinced. )
On a completely different note:
Do you know those moments that give you a glimpse of your past life? No, not literally a past "life," but an earlier phase of life that has almost passed into oblivion. Every now and then, something reminds me of earlier, more simple, times. Strangely, this usually involves public transportation. I guess it used to be a huge part of my life: getting on and off the bus, to and from school. I would catch the bus early in the mornings, my headphones on, my backpack in the chair beside me, or on my lap. It was a walkman first, and I would push the rewind button...to repeat a part of a song that got drowned out by the noise of some loud passenger. Later, I had a more modern discman, and a couple of cds in my bag. I am convinced that trains and busses (buses? weird word) stimulate brain-activity. Or maybe it is just the scenery.
I am always exceptionally pensive when I am on the train or bus. (at least, when my children are not with me!)
Anyhow: today, as I sat in my preferred seat on the bus (not accompanied by the children, for once), I noticed a group of High Schoolers. I got my iPod ready, put in the earphones, and thought, "how things have changed!". It has become such a luxury: to sit in silence, or to listen to music while looking out the bus-window, or to read a book. (digression: Sartre´s "What is Literature" is not ideal reading material for bus-trips. It´s hard enough to get through a paragraph at home. So far, it has taken me about 2 hours to read 22 pages. Shameful!!). But, the funny thing is, I looked exactly the way I did ten years ago. I must be at least 8 years older than those kids, yet I could easily have joined them on their way to school. I doubt they would ever suspect that I am a mother & housewife. I felt old and young at once.
The passing of time. Odd.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Rain, too, makes one especially pensive.
Saturday, April 3, 2010
Solutions for Y-ners
As a follow-up on my various posts regarding quarter-life crisis issues, here I pose a solution; something that seems to be helping me.
Mine was a classic case of the Y-generation-incited indecisiveness: I just didn´t know what I wanted, what would be best... mainly, I didn´t know where was best. It was all very messy in my mind, which made every other aspect of my life all the messier, and I got rather tired of it. So, on a random day (after my trip to Holland), Daniel and I said, "ENOUGH of this! We are staying where we are, and we´ll make things work here." Why? We were sick & tired of pros and cons, and of irrelevant pros and cons (ya sabes, the kind that you come up with just to promote the place you are more inclined to go for).... of basing decisions on whims, and then changing those decisions, and on thinking out loud without conviction.
No, I will not say that Spain won. In the end, it became less about a competition between countries, and more about simplification. Our life has been stressful enough, lately. NOT bad, no, but stressful. So, we´ve gotten rid of the proverbial clutter. And, isn´t it always so refreshing to get rid of the clutter?? Not an easy thing to do, because we Y-ners are hoarders, hoarders of ideals & options..... but so like a fresh breeze. A spring-cleaning, literally & figuratively.
We chose the easier way: the option with fewest adjustments. We´ll stay where we are, sort of (only moving to another town..). Fewer changes. Good for now. This is not to say that we are settling. Goodness, no. I have come to hate the word. But it is so calming to just "conformarse", to come to terms with a decision, and to store some of the other ideas for later.
Things started to fall into place very quickly once the decision was made. We have found a new home, in our old neighborhood. We´ve found a little pre-school for Ari.... early, huh? So odd. I have a job- interview lined up. But, more importantly, we´re not so overwhelmed. A bit, yes, because it is still going to be a year of huge adjustments. But most of the uncertainty has been eliminated.
Now to my crying children.... they´re tired of their naps.
Mine was a classic case of the Y-generation-incited indecisiveness: I just didn´t know what I wanted, what would be best... mainly, I didn´t know where was best. It was all very messy in my mind, which made every other aspect of my life all the messier, and I got rather tired of it. So, on a random day (after my trip to Holland), Daniel and I said, "ENOUGH of this! We are staying where we are, and we´ll make things work here." Why? We were sick & tired of pros and cons, and of irrelevant pros and cons (ya sabes, the kind that you come up with just to promote the place you are more inclined to go for).... of basing decisions on whims, and then changing those decisions, and on thinking out loud without conviction.
No, I will not say that Spain won. In the end, it became less about a competition between countries, and more about simplification. Our life has been stressful enough, lately. NOT bad, no, but stressful. So, we´ve gotten rid of the proverbial clutter. And, isn´t it always so refreshing to get rid of the clutter?? Not an easy thing to do, because we Y-ners are hoarders, hoarders of ideals & options..... but so like a fresh breeze. A spring-cleaning, literally & figuratively.
We chose the easier way: the option with fewest adjustments. We´ll stay where we are, sort of (only moving to another town..). Fewer changes. Good for now. This is not to say that we are settling. Goodness, no. I have come to hate the word. But it is so calming to just "conformarse", to come to terms with a decision, and to store some of the other ideas for later.
Things started to fall into place very quickly once the decision was made. We have found a new home, in our old neighborhood. We´ve found a little pre-school for Ari.... early, huh? So odd. I have a job- interview lined up. But, more importantly, we´re not so overwhelmed. A bit, yes, because it is still going to be a year of huge adjustments. But most of the uncertainty has been eliminated.
Now to my crying children.... they´re tired of their naps.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Cows in a China-Shop
(Anika & I couldn´t possibly be Bulls)
Last Thursday, Daniel took me on a fabulous date. He had it all planned out, in honor of my birthday, and I knew nothing of what was to come.
I dropped Ari off with her grandparents, and headed to Madrid with Anika. Daniel met us at a downtown metro-station & took us to the Museo del Romanticismo. This was my kind of place: I love everything related to the 1700s & 1800s, and felt right at home in the color-themed rooms...
(the sage room was my personal favorite: with a spectacular sofa to match). Again, I dreamed of standing in one of the corners of a Victorian ballroom (by the grand piano, perhaps....though not to play it, of course!), dressed in an empire-waist gown with a soft-green sash... Surely, I was born in the wrong decade of the wrong century. (I must find my way onto a period-piece filmset!)
This was Anika´s first museum, and she seemed perfectly content for a good while. Daniel and I pointed out all the furniture-pieces we would claim if we had the chance: a fold-out mahogany desk, of course... two or three sofas, and a perfect little cradle. And then there were the little things: the elegant coin-purses & ink-pots & jewelry.... a dream of a doll-house for the girls.
After the trip to the museum, we had several hours to kill, so we strolled in the park by the palace. Talked about appartments, jobs, plans... ate a piece of licorice-fudge. Tried (in vain) to take a picture or two of ourselves in front of the palace.
A little before nine, Daniel said it was time to head to our restaurant. I found out I was terribly underdressed. We were in the Royal Theater. Daniel had gotten reservations at its splendid restaurant! Silly-ly, I could think of nothing to say, except, "I can´t believe I am wearing these pants.... I look like a vagabond. Look at all those people in their silk skirts!"
After a while, I decided to stop complaining. The place is gorgeous: it was like stepping into the museum once again, only this time we were allowed to tread on the carpet & sit on the sofas.
I wanted to take photos, but we figured it would be tacky. So, instead, we sat at our dinner-table & tended to Anika.
Daniel had called in advance to make sure that strollers and babies were welcome there. They were, but it was not ideal. On the contrary. After sleeping for several hours, Anika awoke upon arriving, and was hungry. Not surprisingly, she started to cry right when I was in the bathroom, so Daniel sat there with her, trying to console her.
When Daniel burped her, I noticed a giant stain on her burberry-style dress. GIANT. It reached her shoulders. Awesome! Murphy´s Law.
We had not ordered our food yet, and I had to go deal with this mess. The bathrooms of the opera-house / theater are NOT equipped for infants. Not in the least. Also, this poo-mishap happened right during the intermission: so, dozens of fancy opera-visitors flooded the bathroom & gave me mean glances... mean, because they wondered how it could possess a mother to take her infant to the opera. (I know this, because I would wonder the same thing!)
I was embarrassed. I waited until the last one left the bathroom & placed Anika on her changing-mat in a small space between two of the sinks ( to the soundtrack of LOUD opera-music). Anika smiled while I tried to wash her yellow back. The burberry-style dress was replaced by some sweatpants and a Helo Kitty shirt.
She was clean & comfortable & stink-free :-)
After some fussing, Anika fell asleep in her stroller, and Daniel and I had an extraordinary dinner, complete with caviar & crab & lamb... I took several sips of D´s white wine & got all sleepy. I am not a drinker by any means & those few mililiters of good wine went straight to my head. The waiters were friendly and attentive, not seeming to mind the presence of our baby one bit. Despite our awkwardness in the etiquette-department, it was lovely. Anika slept & we dined in style, underneath the stars.
Then, we made the long journey home, on metro and bus. Half-asleep.
(thank you, Daniel, for all the fanciness.. I won´t forget it)
Last Thursday, Daniel took me on a fabulous date. He had it all planned out, in honor of my birthday, and I knew nothing of what was to come.
I dropped Ari off with her grandparents, and headed to Madrid with Anika. Daniel met us at a downtown metro-station & took us to the Museo del Romanticismo. This was my kind of place: I love everything related to the 1700s & 1800s, and felt right at home in the color-themed rooms...
(the sage room was my personal favorite: with a spectacular sofa to match). Again, I dreamed of standing in one of the corners of a Victorian ballroom (by the grand piano, perhaps....though not to play it, of course!), dressed in an empire-waist gown with a soft-green sash... Surely, I was born in the wrong decade of the wrong century. (I must find my way onto a period-piece filmset!)
This was Anika´s first museum, and she seemed perfectly content for a good while. Daniel and I pointed out all the furniture-pieces we would claim if we had the chance: a fold-out mahogany desk, of course... two or three sofas, and a perfect little cradle. And then there were the little things: the elegant coin-purses & ink-pots & jewelry.... a dream of a doll-house for the girls.
After the trip to the museum, we had several hours to kill, so we strolled in the park by the palace. Talked about appartments, jobs, plans... ate a piece of licorice-fudge. Tried (in vain) to take a picture or two of ourselves in front of the palace.
A little before nine, Daniel said it was time to head to our restaurant. I found out I was terribly underdressed. We were in the Royal Theater. Daniel had gotten reservations at its splendid restaurant! Silly-ly, I could think of nothing to say, except, "I can´t believe I am wearing these pants.... I look like a vagabond. Look at all those people in their silk skirts!"
After a while, I decided to stop complaining. The place is gorgeous: it was like stepping into the museum once again, only this time we were allowed to tread on the carpet & sit on the sofas.
I wanted to take photos, but we figured it would be tacky. So, instead, we sat at our dinner-table & tended to Anika.
Daniel had called in advance to make sure that strollers and babies were welcome there. They were, but it was not ideal. On the contrary. After sleeping for several hours, Anika awoke upon arriving, and was hungry. Not surprisingly, she started to cry right when I was in the bathroom, so Daniel sat there with her, trying to console her.
When Daniel burped her, I noticed a giant stain on her burberry-style dress. GIANT. It reached her shoulders. Awesome! Murphy´s Law.
We had not ordered our food yet, and I had to go deal with this mess. The bathrooms of the opera-house / theater are NOT equipped for infants. Not in the least. Also, this poo-mishap happened right during the intermission: so, dozens of fancy opera-visitors flooded the bathroom & gave me mean glances... mean, because they wondered how it could possess a mother to take her infant to the opera. (I know this, because I would wonder the same thing!)I was embarrassed. I waited until the last one left the bathroom & placed Anika on her changing-mat in a small space between two of the sinks ( to the soundtrack of LOUD opera-music). Anika smiled while I tried to wash her yellow back. The burberry-style dress was replaced by some sweatpants and a Helo Kitty shirt.
She was clean & comfortable & stink-free :-)
After some fussing, Anika fell asleep in her stroller, and Daniel and I had an extraordinary dinner, complete with caviar & crab & lamb... I took several sips of D´s white wine & got all sleepy. I am not a drinker by any means & those few mililiters of good wine went straight to my head. The waiters were friendly and attentive, not seeming to mind the presence of our baby one bit. Despite our awkwardness in the etiquette-department, it was lovely. Anika slept & we dined in style, underneath the stars.
Then, we made the long journey home, on metro and bus. Half-asleep.
(thank you, Daniel, for all the fanciness.. I won´t forget it)
Monday, March 8, 2010
Generational Issues
While I was in Holland several weeks ago, I read about a phenomenon that is very much on my mind these days. This generation, we twenty(and thirty)-somethings, have a decision-making problem. This is so severe, in fact, that most of us end up going through a so-called quarter-life crisis. (the Dutch book calls it the "30ers dilemma," dilemma of 30-ers)
My brother & sister-in-law were discussing this with me, and they have two books on the subject, so I read through those. Almost every paragraph resonated with me. It was like reading my own thoughts.... No, it was better than that. Everything that has been stressing me out and confusing me was there, on paper, with an explanation. It´s a bit simplistic to think that one book could explain every aspect of my little life-crisis, but that is what it felt like.
Why so flaky? Why so indecisive? Why so unsatisfied? Why so wishy-washy?
Apparently, it comes down to one thing. OPTIONS. I thought it was just my multicultural background... you know, being an MK, and all that. I thought that was the reason for my uncertainties. But it can all be traced to the fact that we young-uns have a really hard time dealing with the plethora of options before us.
Fifty years ago, life was a lot simpler. Not necessarily better, no, but definitely simpler. One would wake up in the morning, pick out one of maybe 5 possible outfits, choose either cornflakes or toast for breakfast, and head to work... WORK was not such a huge question: it was either work in the homestead, a teaching-job at the local high school, a cafeteria. Things were pretty predictable. In the following decades, things started to change drastically.
From the small decisions to the big ones: everything got a whole lot more complicated. And it all started in the grocery-store. Cereal? Which one of three-hundred varieties?? Milk? Skim, fresh, low-fat, extra calcium, whole, soy?? And quantities (gallon, liter, etc..), packaging (plastic, glass, cardboard), price.
Options became the magic word: every aspect of our life would revolve around it. From our clothing, to our food, to our relationships, to our careers, studies, hobbies, transportation, housing......
It´s too much for us. Psychologists / sociologists have conducted experiments and found that, ironically, people do not thrive where there are too many options. Life did improve for a little while: when the amount of options went from 0 to 20. But then, when it surpassed the 100s, it all got a little messy. We stopped knowing what to choose, and decided not to choose anything at all. Instead, we just stand still, surveying a world of opportunities and wondering where we belong in it.
One of the examples in the book was something like this: a hungry donkey sees two piles of hay. The piles are both equally appealling, and the donkey doesn´t know which to choose. So, rather than settling for one of the piles, the donkey starves herself to death. Dramatic? Yeah, but I totally got the point.
Another example: two groups of jelly-shoppers were presented with a certain amount of jelly-jars. The first group had 6 jars to choose from. The other group had 16 jars. Significantly more jars were sold in the first group. Clearly, we do not do so well with options.
We don´t know what we want. It´s exactly like the author of one of the books said: we want both the farm-house and the loft in the big city. We think, at least for a while, that we can have it all: the succesful career and the perfect little family, the big income and time to travel around the world, the nice car and no car at all /or an ecological alternative.
*************************************************************
This is why I have such a hard time figuring out to do with my life. This is why I change my mind almost every time I make a decision. How can I make one decision and stick with it, knowing that there are a hundred other options out there... options that might be better.
But, another thing the Dutch book brought up: perhaps the next generation will learn to deal with this. Maybe my kids will know exactly how to take advantage of all the options they have. Maybe having options won´t make them indecisive & unsatisfied.
My brother & sister-in-law were discussing this with me, and they have two books on the subject, so I read through those. Almost every paragraph resonated with me. It was like reading my own thoughts.... No, it was better than that. Everything that has been stressing me out and confusing me was there, on paper, with an explanation. It´s a bit simplistic to think that one book could explain every aspect of my little life-crisis, but that is what it felt like.
Why so flaky? Why so indecisive? Why so unsatisfied? Why so wishy-washy?
Apparently, it comes down to one thing. OPTIONS. I thought it was just my multicultural background... you know, being an MK, and all that. I thought that was the reason for my uncertainties. But it can all be traced to the fact that we young-uns have a really hard time dealing with the plethora of options before us.
Fifty years ago, life was a lot simpler. Not necessarily better, no, but definitely simpler. One would wake up in the morning, pick out one of maybe 5 possible outfits, choose either cornflakes or toast for breakfast, and head to work... WORK was not such a huge question: it was either work in the homestead, a teaching-job at the local high school, a cafeteria. Things were pretty predictable. In the following decades, things started to change drastically.
From the small decisions to the big ones: everything got a whole lot more complicated. And it all started in the grocery-store. Cereal? Which one of three-hundred varieties?? Milk? Skim, fresh, low-fat, extra calcium, whole, soy?? And quantities (gallon, liter, etc..), packaging (plastic, glass, cardboard), price.
Options became the magic word: every aspect of our life would revolve around it. From our clothing, to our food, to our relationships, to our careers, studies, hobbies, transportation, housing......
It´s too much for us. Psychologists / sociologists have conducted experiments and found that, ironically, people do not thrive where there are too many options. Life did improve for a little while: when the amount of options went from 0 to 20. But then, when it surpassed the 100s, it all got a little messy. We stopped knowing what to choose, and decided not to choose anything at all. Instead, we just stand still, surveying a world of opportunities and wondering where we belong in it.
One of the examples in the book was something like this: a hungry donkey sees two piles of hay. The piles are both equally appealling, and the donkey doesn´t know which to choose. So, rather than settling for one of the piles, the donkey starves herself to death. Dramatic? Yeah, but I totally got the point.
Another example: two groups of jelly-shoppers were presented with a certain amount of jelly-jars. The first group had 6 jars to choose from. The other group had 16 jars. Significantly more jars were sold in the first group. Clearly, we do not do so well with options.
We don´t know what we want. It´s exactly like the author of one of the books said: we want both the farm-house and the loft in the big city. We think, at least for a while, that we can have it all: the succesful career and the perfect little family, the big income and time to travel around the world, the nice car and no car at all /or an ecological alternative.
*************************************************************
This is why I have such a hard time figuring out to do with my life. This is why I change my mind almost every time I make a decision. How can I make one decision and stick with it, knowing that there are a hundred other options out there... options that might be better.
But, another thing the Dutch book brought up: perhaps the next generation will learn to deal with this. Maybe my kids will know exactly how to take advantage of all the options they have. Maybe having options won´t make them indecisive & unsatisfied.
Friday, February 19, 2010
P.a.v.o.r N*octurnus
Ari had her first panic attack (in her sleep) half an hour ago. It disturbed me greatly, but I did some research and have come to understand that it is very common to children of her age.
Around midnight, I was watching the latest LOST-episodes with my friend (a valid reason to be up that late!) when I heard Ari fussing through the babyphone. I went upstairs and picked her up, offered her water, and turned on the dim light to try to see if something was the matter with her. Ari behaved so strangely: she turned her head, kicked her legs, pushed my face away, kept saying, "mamama," but she didn´t respond to me. I did the usual thing: I held her, sang to her softly, told her "mama´s here," "mama is bij jou," but she kept crying.. She didn´t say anything, but uttered "nnnnunnnunnnu," "uuuuhmm". Her eyes were wide open. It alarmed me. I wanted her to snap out of that- didn´t know what her matter was.
After a long while, she settled down. She asked me to read her the Pooh-book and had a drink of water. I asked her if she was tired and she responded in the affirmative (something that NEVER happens!).
I went back downstairs after the usual routine: "mama is turn off de yight," "vinderziek" (vlindermuziek/butterfly-music) and "mama is cose de doors".
Naturally, I headed straight for the computer. Wanted to find out how "normal" this was. Figured it must have just been a nightmare, but still, it was strange.
As it turns out, this fits the description of "pa(v)or nocturnus" perfectly. It is very common for young children to experience night-terrors: these panic attacks usually only last for about 15 minutes (Ari´s case, too, though it seemed an eternity!), and are very alarming to the parent. This happens at some point in the first 4 hours of the child´s sleep (again, Ari´s case), as opposed to nightmares, which typically occur in the second half of the night. Obviously, this has everything to do with sleep-cycles.
Other markers:
-during a night-terror, the child appears to be awake, but is actually asleep (so they do not respond or communicate).
-the child will not remember the drama by the time they wake up in the morning (whereas children do frequently recall nightmares).
-it is NOT effective to try to comfort the child: such an approach will be met with more kicking, pushing.... (again, because the child is asleep) Hence, the child may continue calling out, "mama, mama!", because (s)he is not aware that the parent is actually there, comforting her(him).
-the best thing for the parent to do (albeit difficult/heartbreaking) is to let this go on; to let the child get over it (as long as they´re not hurting themselves with the kicking, etc., of course.) Waking the child is not advisable in this situation.
This immediately made sense to me, because I noticed that Ari got more agitated as I tried to comfort her.
And, when I read the list of things that can induce these attacks, I was convinced that Ari´s drama was a classic case of Pavor Noctornus. Children are most likely to have an episode of this after a busy day; when they are overstimulated; when they haven´t rested enough; when their routine has been interrupted. Indeed, the dear did not nap today, and we didn´t come home until about half an hour before her bedtime. This was not a normal day for us, and Ari suffered the consequences. (thankfully, she´ll probably greet me with the usual chipper, "mogguh"(morgen/morning!), "Ari is wakker" (Ari´s awake) tomorrow).
So, it was reassuring to learn that this is perfectly normal for toddlers.... Also, I am even more convinced of the value of rest & routine. My parents often use that good old Dutch calvinist motto, "rust, reinheid, en regelmaat" ("rest, cleanliness, and routine/structure"). This is something I aim for in my daily life with the kids (yet fail so frequently!).
Hopefully, it won´t take another night-terror to remind me that my dears need these things!
Around midnight, I was watching the latest LOST-episodes with my friend (a valid reason to be up that late!) when I heard Ari fussing through the babyphone. I went upstairs and picked her up, offered her water, and turned on the dim light to try to see if something was the matter with her. Ari behaved so strangely: she turned her head, kicked her legs, pushed my face away, kept saying, "mamama," but she didn´t respond to me. I did the usual thing: I held her, sang to her softly, told her "mama´s here," "mama is bij jou," but she kept crying.. She didn´t say anything, but uttered "nnnnunnnunnnu," "uuuuhmm". Her eyes were wide open. It alarmed me. I wanted her to snap out of that- didn´t know what her matter was.
After a long while, she settled down. She asked me to read her the Pooh-book and had a drink of water. I asked her if she was tired and she responded in the affirmative (something that NEVER happens!).
I went back downstairs after the usual routine: "mama is turn off de yight," "vinderziek" (vlindermuziek/butterfly-music) and "mama is cose de doors".
Naturally, I headed straight for the computer. Wanted to find out how "normal" this was. Figured it must have just been a nightmare, but still, it was strange.
As it turns out, this fits the description of "pa(v)or nocturnus" perfectly. It is very common for young children to experience night-terrors: these panic attacks usually only last for about 15 minutes (Ari´s case, too, though it seemed an eternity!), and are very alarming to the parent. This happens at some point in the first 4 hours of the child´s sleep (again, Ari´s case), as opposed to nightmares, which typically occur in the second half of the night. Obviously, this has everything to do with sleep-cycles.
Other markers:
-during a night-terror, the child appears to be awake, but is actually asleep (so they do not respond or communicate).
-the child will not remember the drama by the time they wake up in the morning (whereas children do frequently recall nightmares).
-it is NOT effective to try to comfort the child: such an approach will be met with more kicking, pushing.... (again, because the child is asleep) Hence, the child may continue calling out, "mama, mama!", because (s)he is not aware that the parent is actually there, comforting her(him).
-the best thing for the parent to do (albeit difficult/heartbreaking) is to let this go on; to let the child get over it (as long as they´re not hurting themselves with the kicking, etc., of course.) Waking the child is not advisable in this situation.
This immediately made sense to me, because I noticed that Ari got more agitated as I tried to comfort her.
And, when I read the list of things that can induce these attacks, I was convinced that Ari´s drama was a classic case of Pavor Noctornus. Children are most likely to have an episode of this after a busy day; when they are overstimulated; when they haven´t rested enough; when their routine has been interrupted. Indeed, the dear did not nap today, and we didn´t come home until about half an hour before her bedtime. This was not a normal day for us, and Ari suffered the consequences. (thankfully, she´ll probably greet me with the usual chipper, "mogguh"(morgen/morning!), "Ari is wakker" (Ari´s awake) tomorrow).
So, it was reassuring to learn that this is perfectly normal for toddlers.... Also, I am even more convinced of the value of rest & routine. My parents often use that good old Dutch calvinist motto, "rust, reinheid, en regelmaat" ("rest, cleanliness, and routine/structure"). This is something I aim for in my daily life with the kids (yet fail so frequently!).
Hopefully, it won´t take another night-terror to remind me that my dears need these things!
Monday, February 8, 2010
Recycling
I was pondering "dreams" and life-goals again (you´ve got to do something with your time, right?), and wondered whether, in the end, our dreams are all essentially the same.
Made up of the same stuff.
I started to think of a little something called "the collective unconscious". My university advisor (and English professor) was a bit of a Jung-freak and managed to incorporate Jungian psychology into all of his lectures on Shakespeare, Spenser, and Milton. These were my favorite classes, due in part to this, I think. My professor explored connections between the texts and analytical psychology (some very obscure). I´ve long since forgotten some of those connections, the clues in the literature that pointed to traces of Jungian psychology. But they were fascinating, because they made sense out of it all, and they made the literature resonate with me.
Jung´s concept of the collective unconscious states, basically, that a large part of our thoughts and experiences are universal. In other words, our thoughts, dreams, feelings, and experiences are inextricably linked to those of other humans....regardless of our situation & geography & age. Most of our ideals, then, are timeless. I could be dreaming of the same thing as a woman in the Middle Ages, or a child in Africa. Our environment & personal experience only affect the details, not the essence.
Anyway, this is precisely why my aspirations have been shaped, in large part, by others (more directly, by the expression of others, or art). The images that come to my mind when I consider my dreams & goals are images reflected in movies, novels, or song-lyrics. And vice versa.
"There is nothing new under the sun". Remember? That is exactly what Jung was talking about.
I thought I´d give you a recap of some of my recurrent life-dreams, to illustrate the point more clearly:
*I envision a cozy bookstore with wooden beams across the ceiling and myself in the middle of it, serving coffee to the fascinating readers....... (the "You´ve Got Mail"-idea)
*I see myself, briefcase in hand, doing literature research in the stuffy basement of an old university.. or sitting in an office (with a huge wood-framed window) in the English department, contributing to journals for literary criticism. With a bunch of other enthusiastic academics (academic enthusiasts?) around, of course... (think "Possession", the film with Gwyneth Paltrow)
*I imagine having no "job" at all (basically what I´m doing now, but in a more romantic setting): just raising my daughters (and 2 or 3 more kids :-) why stop at 2 in an ideal world?), frolicking in the green hills, racing to the lighthouse, baking cookies in our industrial oven in a massive kitchen with an ocean-view. (à la "Anne of Green Gables,"maybe).
That is the best I can think of. And, honestly, don´t you think of similar things? I don´t know how many of my friends have shared a similar coffee/tea/book-store idea. Obviously, we´ve customized these collective ideas, but they originated in the same place.
I guess I´ll talk for myself, but I do think Jung had a point. My thoughts are nothing but a patchwork of the best feel-good movies and novels. With a few slight adaptations. Little House on the Prairie meets Dead Poets Society. Something like that. Usually, this frustrates me. It bothers me to be so unoriginal. To have such Blah-aspirations. But then I remember that what seems unoriginal and abstract (the common denominator in my dreams: I might describe it as a sense of "coziness" or something fluffy like that :-) ) is just a reflection of a greater/universal/collective dream. I am not saying that Napoleon ( to name someone ) shared my dream of serving coffee and conversing with a bunch of fellow idealists. But there is a reason why Hollywood feeds us the same formula (for romance, for action, for adventure) in all its productions. Books do the same. And songs.
Sometimes, I just think in song-lyrics. Whatever I might be experiencing, all that comes to my mind to express it is something written/expressed by someone else. While writing this, for instance, I sing, "But you can´t be in love like the movies..... ´cos in the movies, they´re not in love at all!" (from a song by the Avett Brothers, one of the local bands from our life in NC) It seems so pathetic, but, on the other hand, it´s just human. It´s a manifestation of the collective unconscious. It makes art work. It makes Hollywood a lot of money. It´s a form of recycling.
Good grief! I dwell on the same two or three things... it´s all kids and marriage and dreams in my world. Any suggestions for a change of topic??
I´ve added some Ari-quotations to that earlier post (before I forget them).
Made up of the same stuff.
I started to think of a little something called "the collective unconscious". My university advisor (and English professor) was a bit of a Jung-freak and managed to incorporate Jungian psychology into all of his lectures on Shakespeare, Spenser, and Milton. These were my favorite classes, due in part to this, I think. My professor explored connections between the texts and analytical psychology (some very obscure). I´ve long since forgotten some of those connections, the clues in the literature that pointed to traces of Jungian psychology. But they were fascinating, because they made sense out of it all, and they made the literature resonate with me.
Jung´s concept of the collective unconscious states, basically, that a large part of our thoughts and experiences are universal. In other words, our thoughts, dreams, feelings, and experiences are inextricably linked to those of other humans....regardless of our situation & geography & age. Most of our ideals, then, are timeless. I could be dreaming of the same thing as a woman in the Middle Ages, or a child in Africa. Our environment & personal experience only affect the details, not the essence.
Anyway, this is precisely why my aspirations have been shaped, in large part, by others (more directly, by the expression of others, or art). The images that come to my mind when I consider my dreams & goals are images reflected in movies, novels, or song-lyrics. And vice versa.
"There is nothing new under the sun". Remember? That is exactly what Jung was talking about.
I thought I´d give you a recap of some of my recurrent life-dreams, to illustrate the point more clearly:
*I envision a cozy bookstore with wooden beams across the ceiling and myself in the middle of it, serving coffee to the fascinating readers....... (the "You´ve Got Mail"-idea)
*I see myself, briefcase in hand, doing literature research in the stuffy basement of an old university.. or sitting in an office (with a huge wood-framed window) in the English department, contributing to journals for literary criticism. With a bunch of other enthusiastic academics (academic enthusiasts?) around, of course... (think "Possession", the film with Gwyneth Paltrow)
*I imagine having no "job" at all (basically what I´m doing now, but in a more romantic setting): just raising my daughters (and 2 or 3 more kids :-) why stop at 2 in an ideal world?), frolicking in the green hills, racing to the lighthouse, baking cookies in our industrial oven in a massive kitchen with an ocean-view. (à la "Anne of Green Gables,"maybe).
That is the best I can think of. And, honestly, don´t you think of similar things? I don´t know how many of my friends have shared a similar coffee/tea/book-store idea. Obviously, we´ve customized these collective ideas, but they originated in the same place.
I guess I´ll talk for myself, but I do think Jung had a point. My thoughts are nothing but a patchwork of the best feel-good movies and novels. With a few slight adaptations. Little House on the Prairie meets Dead Poets Society. Something like that. Usually, this frustrates me. It bothers me to be so unoriginal. To have such Blah-aspirations. But then I remember that what seems unoriginal and abstract (the common denominator in my dreams: I might describe it as a sense of "coziness" or something fluffy like that :-) ) is just a reflection of a greater/universal/collective dream. I am not saying that Napoleon ( to name someone ) shared my dream of serving coffee and conversing with a bunch of fellow idealists. But there is a reason why Hollywood feeds us the same formula (for romance, for action, for adventure) in all its productions. Books do the same. And songs.
Sometimes, I just think in song-lyrics. Whatever I might be experiencing, all that comes to my mind to express it is something written/expressed by someone else. While writing this, for instance, I sing, "But you can´t be in love like the movies..... ´cos in the movies, they´re not in love at all!" (from a song by the Avett Brothers, one of the local bands from our life in NC) It seems so pathetic, but, on the other hand, it´s just human. It´s a manifestation of the collective unconscious. It makes art work. It makes Hollywood a lot of money. It´s a form of recycling.
Good grief! I dwell on the same two or three things... it´s all kids and marriage and dreams in my world. Any suggestions for a change of topic??
I´ve added some Ari-quotations to that earlier post (before I forget them).
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Upon Considering Haves and Have-Nots
This morning, I thought I would go ahead and whine some more. More venting, to work it all out in my mind. But I´ve decided to try to look at the brighter side. Sleep-deprivation, as Daniel and I discussed over the phone early this morning (when he was off to work after another stress-induced argument), can really distort things. Recently, in moments of stress or frustration, we´ve both said things like, "that´s it! one more day of this chaos, and I´m going to lose it!".
Then, when morning comes around, everything seems a lot more bearable. It happens again and again..... simply because fatigue & stress are so invasive; they have such power to dampen one´s spirits.
Anyhow, I thought of stress, I thought of everything that is making this month such a hard one. And then God (or a more sensible version of myself, I suppose) reminded me that I am so exceptionally blessed to be in this place.
It´s surprisingly easy to lose perspective (for me, anyway), despite daily confrontation with the suffering of others around the globe (ahem *Haiti).
I am surrounded by Have-Nots. By Have-Nothings and Have-Littles. I don´t have to leave the city to run into people who lack a roof above their heads, who have no resources whatsoever, no food to feed their children. The Have-Nothings are everywhere. And then there are Have-Less.... people who do have the basics to make it from day to day but haven´t lived the life they would have chosen for themselves. I could go on and on. There are a lot of people, within a wide range in the Have-Less category, who have a real right to complain.
I am one of the Haves. NO! I am one of the Have-Much´s.
An expression of gratitude is in order: (again, I repeat things ad nauseam)
- I grew up in a great family
- I have an education (and not a cent of debt, thanks to others)
- I have health
- I have friends (I might complain that "I have no friends, no social life", but I´m not really a loner, in the end)
- I have a best friend for a husband (just as I wanted)
- I have children (just as I wanted), and they were born:
*healthy
*happy (both of my daughters are smilers!)
- I have a roof above my head
- and.....compared to so many people, I suppose my life is quite interesting. (another invalid complaint: "I haven´t been anywhere! I haven´t seen the world").
What more could I really be asking for??? (I do ask for plenty, but realize it is ridiculous).
It has been surprising to discover that the most beautiful phases in life can also be the most difficult. Daniel and I are living a dream, raising the two loveliest daughters, but the dream has been difficult. It´s strange to feel such complex and conflictive emotions all at once. It has made us all behave so strangely in the last few weeks. We´ve yelled at one another, we´ve slammed doors, we´ve hugged, we´ve felt so proud of our little family, we´ve been so fascinated with new life, so overwhelmed with love, so worried, so unsure about the future, so afraid of failure, so grateful, so happy, so blessed..... How does that work? Everything collides.
An observation: The sixth week of a newborn´s life is infamous. It is, supposedly, the hardest week for baby & parents (especially with regard to colic, which is something that little Anika suffers from considerably). The first few years (first, second, or third...depending on which marriage-book you consult) of marriage are the hardest ones. The terrible two´s are...well, the terrible two´s.
Suffice it to say that, due to this combination of factors (and some others), this could pretty well be one of the most difficult years for us. But it is so beautiful, on so many levels, and we are so blessed to get to go through this. It (the trouble) has everything to do with togetherness: being together, the four of us... learning to adjust to every one´s particular needs, and to accept the personality-differences that make life-sharing so complicated sometimes. And the fact that we get to be together at all is really special.
Do me a favor, then, and read between the lines of my entries. When you read, "it´s so, so difficult!", also imagine a footnote:* "it is beautiful, beautiful, beautiful!", because it (being a young mother,etc.) truly is.
Then, when morning comes around, everything seems a lot more bearable. It happens again and again..... simply because fatigue & stress are so invasive; they have such power to dampen one´s spirits.
Anyhow, I thought of stress, I thought of everything that is making this month such a hard one. And then God (or a more sensible version of myself, I suppose) reminded me that I am so exceptionally blessed to be in this place.
It´s surprisingly easy to lose perspective (for me, anyway), despite daily confrontation with the suffering of others around the globe (ahem *Haiti).
I am surrounded by Have-Nots. By Have-Nothings and Have-Littles. I don´t have to leave the city to run into people who lack a roof above their heads, who have no resources whatsoever, no food to feed their children. The Have-Nothings are everywhere. And then there are Have-Less.... people who do have the basics to make it from day to day but haven´t lived the life they would have chosen for themselves. I could go on and on. There are a lot of people, within a wide range in the Have-Less category, who have a real right to complain.
I am one of the Haves. NO! I am one of the Have-Much´s.
An expression of gratitude is in order: (again, I repeat things ad nauseam)
- I grew up in a great family
- I have an education (and not a cent of debt, thanks to others)
- I have health
- I have friends (I might complain that "I have no friends, no social life", but I´m not really a loner, in the end)
- I have a best friend for a husband (just as I wanted)
- I have children (just as I wanted), and they were born:
*healthy
*happy (both of my daughters are smilers!)
- I have a roof above my head
- and.....compared to so many people, I suppose my life is quite interesting. (another invalid complaint: "I haven´t been anywhere! I haven´t seen the world").
What more could I really be asking for??? (I do ask for plenty, but realize it is ridiculous).
It has been surprising to discover that the most beautiful phases in life can also be the most difficult. Daniel and I are living a dream, raising the two loveliest daughters, but the dream has been difficult. It´s strange to feel such complex and conflictive emotions all at once. It has made us all behave so strangely in the last few weeks. We´ve yelled at one another, we´ve slammed doors, we´ve hugged, we´ve felt so proud of our little family, we´ve been so fascinated with new life, so overwhelmed with love, so worried, so unsure about the future, so afraid of failure, so grateful, so happy, so blessed..... How does that work? Everything collides.
An observation: The sixth week of a newborn´s life is infamous. It is, supposedly, the hardest week for baby & parents (especially with regard to colic, which is something that little Anika suffers from considerably). The first few years (first, second, or third...depending on which marriage-book you consult) of marriage are the hardest ones. The terrible two´s are...well, the terrible two´s.
Suffice it to say that, due to this combination of factors (and some others), this could pretty well be one of the most difficult years for us. But it is so beautiful, on so many levels, and we are so blessed to get to go through this. It (the trouble) has everything to do with togetherness: being together, the four of us... learning to adjust to every one´s particular needs, and to accept the personality-differences that make life-sharing so complicated sometimes. And the fact that we get to be together at all is really special.
Do me a favor, then, and read between the lines of my entries. When you read, "it´s so, so difficult!", also imagine a footnote:* "it is beautiful, beautiful, beautiful!", because it (being a young mother,etc.) truly is.
Monday, February 1, 2010
The Things She Says
Memorable quotations from my 2-year old: (pronunciation included..)
"Mama is like bew-full (beautiful) pie!" (don´t ask me why. she got the "pie" part from "sweetie pie," but I don´t know how she came up with this combination).
"De A de Ari has a red bird on it" (a keen observation when we passed the Alcampo....)
"Dis is a stupid park, dis is a stupid clouds, dis is a stupid car, dis is a stupid tree" (My bad! she overheard my use of "stupid" in traffic and decided everything else was stupid, as well. )
"Ari is eat a ham-huh-huh (hamburger)" (my personal favorite).
"casa means house...coche means car"
"Ari is cah-ring (coloring) vary well"
"Papa is fuh-russ-trated (frustrated)"
"Ari is buy moneys at de store"
"Buhn-Gog (Bunnydog) is laughing...HAhaHaHAha!!!!" (whilst holding him by his ears, making him "jump").
"Whus-puh-whus-puh(lippenstift: chapstick)...Ari´s have some" (the child is obsessed with my chapsticks and hand-creams)
"Opa is put de Josh Goban cee-ee (CD) on de pooh-ter (computer)" (he did put that CD on when he was here in December... A few weeks ago, Ari mentioned it, just out of the blue).
"Papa says ´tomato,´Mama says ´tomaat´" (with such care to emphasize the different pronunciations. She said the same for "bus," and some other words). (She´s becoming increasingly aware of the differences between "her" languages. Always noticing the distinctions between Mama´s language & Papa´s language & Spanish).
"Allyson´s got new boots for Ari.....wooooooh!"
"Somebody´s in de kitchen"
"Ari´s counting...yumber free (3).. Lucas said ´cinco´"
"Ari´s got a new changing-table" (not true, by the way)
"De pizza-toast is like a polar-bear" (first, she saw the letter "A" in her pieces of toast. Now, apparently, she´s imagining other things, too).
I write this as the baby-phone allows me to catch up on all the silly things she says while she should be taking a nap.
She makes me laugh so much every day, amid the stress of juggling life with 2 kids.
Yesterday, I was preparing Ari´s bath and filling the small bathtub for Anika... suddenly, I heard "boom" and she started whining: I turned around and there she was...soaked in her green new PJs. She had tried to climb into the bath by herself and fell in. I thought to myself, "Great! Another bath-problem...it´s going to be months before she´ll take a bath again!", but, thankfully, she got over the shock and took a bath without complaint.
She´s so dramatic, it´s quite entertaining. I guess she gets it from me. What did I expect? I always get super-excited (excessively so) about things when she´s with me, and she has picked up the habit of exclaiming, "WOOOO-HOOOOO!", "Wow!", "cool!", and "hee-heeeeeee," when she sees/hears/discovers something interesting. I suppose I´ve tried to teach her to be optimistic and enthusiastic about life, and I´ve gone a little overboard. Sometimes, however, her expressions are so nonchalant... more Daniel-style: a dry "yup" or "jah" (ja). She´s a funny child.
And then Anika... Well, there´s not too much to say about her at this point. She is calm, smiles a lot, and has belly-aches. That´s about it. It´s impossible to stop staring at her while she smiles. It is so sweet and lifts my spirits. We have yet to discover Ani´s little personality-quirks. When we do, I´ll be documenting it!
"Mama is like bew-full (beautiful) pie!" (don´t ask me why. she got the "pie" part from "sweetie pie," but I don´t know how she came up with this combination).
"De A de Ari has a red bird on it" (a keen observation when we passed the Alcampo....)
"Dis is a stupid park, dis is a stupid clouds, dis is a stupid car, dis is a stupid tree" (My bad! she overheard my use of "stupid" in traffic and decided everything else was stupid, as well. )
"Ari is eat a ham-huh-huh (hamburger)" (my personal favorite).
"casa means house...coche means car"
"Ari is cah-ring (coloring) vary well"
"Papa is fuh-russ-trated (frustrated)"
"Ari is buy moneys at de store"
"Buhn-Gog (Bunnydog) is laughing...HAhaHaHAha!!!!" (whilst holding him by his ears, making him "jump").
"Whus-puh-whus-puh(lippenstift: chapstick)...Ari´s have some" (the child is obsessed with my chapsticks and hand-creams)
"Opa is put de Josh Goban cee-ee (CD) on de pooh-ter (computer)" (he did put that CD on when he was here in December... A few weeks ago, Ari mentioned it, just out of the blue).
"Papa says ´tomato,´Mama says ´tomaat´" (with such care to emphasize the different pronunciations. She said the same for "bus," and some other words). (She´s becoming increasingly aware of the differences between "her" languages. Always noticing the distinctions between Mama´s language & Papa´s language & Spanish).
"Allyson´s got new boots for Ari.....wooooooh!"
"Somebody´s in de kitchen"
"Ari´s counting...yumber free (3).. Lucas said ´cinco´"
"Ari´s got a new changing-table" (not true, by the way)
"De pizza-toast is like a polar-bear" (first, she saw the letter "A" in her pieces of toast. Now, apparently, she´s imagining other things, too).
I write this as the baby-phone allows me to catch up on all the silly things she says while she should be taking a nap.
She makes me laugh so much every day, amid the stress of juggling life with 2 kids.
Yesterday, I was preparing Ari´s bath and filling the small bathtub for Anika... suddenly, I heard "boom" and she started whining: I turned around and there she was...soaked in her green new PJs. She had tried to climb into the bath by herself and fell in. I thought to myself, "Great! Another bath-problem...it´s going to be months before she´ll take a bath again!", but, thankfully, she got over the shock and took a bath without complaint.
She´s so dramatic, it´s quite entertaining. I guess she gets it from me. What did I expect? I always get super-excited (excessively so) about things when she´s with me, and she has picked up the habit of exclaiming, "WOOOO-HOOOOO!", "Wow!", "cool!", and "hee-heeeeeee," when she sees/hears/discovers something interesting. I suppose I´ve tried to teach her to be optimistic and enthusiastic about life, and I´ve gone a little overboard. Sometimes, however, her expressions are so nonchalant... more Daniel-style: a dry "yup" or "jah" (ja). She´s a funny child.
And then Anika... Well, there´s not too much to say about her at this point. She is calm, smiles a lot, and has belly-aches. That´s about it. It´s impossible to stop staring at her while she smiles. It is so sweet and lifts my spirits. We have yet to discover Ani´s little personality-quirks. When we do, I´ll be documenting it!
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
"Know Thyself!"
If you´re anything like me, you will think you have a pretty good idea about who you are and what your strengths and weaknesses are............. and then you have children. Children, in a way, hold a mirror up to you and show you your limits. Continuously. It´s so humbling: to see one´s level of patience plummet to the ground. Just having to deal with daily life as a mother can make you feel like a pretty bad person. And that´s so disappointing!
The first year of motherhood might start to show you colors of your character that you´ve never noticed before, but afterwards....that´s when it really hits you!
I´m only two years into this (motherhood), and I´ve already been confronted with "the good, the bad, and the ugly" (sorry for all the borrowed language here!), and it is tough. Occasionally, mothers can feel quite happy with themselves (this was, sort of, my constant state in Ari´s first year of life); to be so devoted to another person and to feel so satisfied just to care for a child. But it gets a little harder. A lot harder, actually. And harder still, when the next child is born, and you find yourself incapable of being completely & perfectly dedicated to the both of them, simultaneously.
It´s a constant attack on my perfectionism. I wanted to do things just right (the first time around, especially); to raise my baby the "right" way, to keep her environment as clean and structured as possible. It seems foolish, but it was almost automatic to me; to strive for such ridiculously impossible, impractical, and unnecessary excellence in parenting. It sets you up for disappointment. That might last for an hour: while you´re holding your newborn, and
In fact, I think I am going to go ahead and say that parenting, in general, just sets you up for disappointment (unless: 1*you really have no expectations at all, or 2* you have all the help in the world and only have to worry about the pleasant parts of parenting). As it turns out, mothers can only do so much.......
....and then they have a meltdown, for example. In front of the kids. That´s how I started to expect my two-year old to act like a 7-year old. To listen perfectly. To eat and drink quickly and neatly. To respond immediately.
It´s so discouraging: to find out that you can´t accomplish everything you planned, as a mother. I know I´ve mentioned it before; but now it is a daily battle! I shake my head daily at my lack of patience and my failure to keep up with both of my children.
.................................................................................................................
And, again: I finally understand the women who defend combining parenthood with a career. I´m not really ambitious, but I am convinced that it would do us all a world of good if I would get out of the house every once in a while. Preferably, by myself. To pour myself into something else, for a change. Some days, I even think I´ll start screaming if I don´t take a break. And I only have two children! And I have a husband to support me.
En fin....it´s the old familiar rant. It´s just becoming more and more clear to me that parenting is really tough. Nothing can really prepare you for it.
(but there are such great days, too... moments, anyway. if you can just be a little easy on yourself, and expect the occasional meltdown & realize that it´s alright to lose it a little bit, from time to time.)
The first year of motherhood might start to show you colors of your character that you´ve never noticed before, but afterwards....that´s when it really hits you!
I´m only two years into this (motherhood), and I´ve already been confronted with "the good, the bad, and the ugly" (sorry for all the borrowed language here!), and it is tough. Occasionally, mothers can feel quite happy with themselves (this was, sort of, my constant state in Ari´s first year of life); to be so devoted to another person and to feel so satisfied just to care for a child. But it gets a little harder. A lot harder, actually. And harder still, when the next child is born, and you find yourself incapable of being completely & perfectly dedicated to the both of them, simultaneously.
It´s a constant attack on my perfectionism. I wanted to do things just right (the first time around, especially); to raise my baby the "right" way, to keep her environment as clean and structured as possible. It seems foolish, but it was almost automatic to me; to strive for such ridiculously impossible, impractical, and unnecessary excellence in parenting. It sets you up for disappointment. That might last for an hour: while you´re holding your newborn, and
In fact, I think I am going to go ahead and say that parenting, in general, just sets you up for disappointment (unless: 1*you really have no expectations at all, or 2* you have all the help in the world and only have to worry about the pleasant parts of parenting). As it turns out, mothers can only do so much.......
....and then they have a meltdown, for example. In front of the kids. That´s how I started to expect my two-year old to act like a 7-year old. To listen perfectly. To eat and drink quickly and neatly. To respond immediately.
It´s so discouraging: to find out that you can´t accomplish everything you planned, as a mother. I know I´ve mentioned it before; but now it is a daily battle! I shake my head daily at my lack of patience and my failure to keep up with both of my children.
.................................................................................................................
And, again: I finally understand the women who defend combining parenthood with a career. I´m not really ambitious, but I am convinced that it would do us all a world of good if I would get out of the house every once in a while. Preferably, by myself. To pour myself into something else, for a change. Some days, I even think I´ll start screaming if I don´t take a break. And I only have two children! And I have a husband to support me.
En fin....it´s the old familiar rant. It´s just becoming more and more clear to me that parenting is really tough. Nothing can really prepare you for it.
(but there are such great days, too... moments, anyway. if you can just be a little easy on yourself, and expect the occasional meltdown & realize that it´s alright to lose it a little bit, from time to time.)
Thursday, January 14, 2010
The Trouble With Convenience...
I´m not a fan of this decade. That sounds pretty silly, I guess, but it´s true. I would have gladly chosen for my children to live in another one (an earlier one, more specifically).
Some other moms and I were discussing this just yesterday, and we all agreed that living in the "Wii-Generation" makes us nervous.
Sure, this is the one (the decade) we´ve got & I guess I´ve got to come to terms with living in a hyper-technological age, but part of me just wants to complain and worry about it. And, honestly, I think we have a good reason to mourn the passing of those simpler decades.
Our children will grow up surrounded by screens. The screens of their (or their friends´) giant flatscreen televisions, the screens of their paper-thin I-Touch phones, I-pods, mini-Play Stations, computers, etc. The worst part is that we have no power to prevent this: to keep the screens out of their lives... Because, even if we don´t buy them these gadgets, they will use them at school, or at their friends´house. Everyone will convince them that they need a great collection of screens. They will communicate through those screens. I don´t think I´m being excessively dramatic when I predict that our children will socialize from a distance, as we have started to do ourselves, in this age of social networking through the internet. To say it Prufrock-style; "I have measured my life through profile-updates".
*What can we do to prevent this? To ensure that our children develop real social skills: that they be capable of maintaining a face-to-face conversation, a good old tête à tête.
I don´t want my children to live life artificially: to communicate only through screens and superficial "status updates", to play sports only "as if", with a remote in hand, from the comfort of a living-room (and I admit that Wii-ing is fun!). Building "tents" outside and going on scavenger-hunts was SO much more exciting. If it goes on like this, we´ll all go through life without ever really having to interact with one another. We´ll be disconnected, no matter how many "friends" we may have collected on our social networking sites. The future suddenly doesn´t look so pleasant at all. Not to me, at least.
What ever happened to tertulias and the like? Now it´s nothing but forums and chatrooms.
I´ve gone along with it, to some extent, but I am really displeased with these developments.
Countless articles have been published about the positive effect of these modern modes of communication on language and social interaction, but I think it has done far more damage than good. I don´t enjoy these developments at all: I don´t want to live in a world of "OMG," "TTYL," and "LOL". Why have we become so lazy?
Suffice it to say that these changes have made me a little pessimistic. Daniel & I would like to raise social children. Social and well-spoken... And I have a feeling that most of the world, and the convenience of its newest gadgets, is going to get in our way.
Some other moms and I were discussing this just yesterday, and we all agreed that living in the "Wii-Generation" makes us nervous.
Sure, this is the one (the decade) we´ve got & I guess I´ve got to come to terms with living in a hyper-technological age, but part of me just wants to complain and worry about it. And, honestly, I think we have a good reason to mourn the passing of those simpler decades.
Our children will grow up surrounded by screens. The screens of their (or their friends´) giant flatscreen televisions, the screens of their paper-thin I-Touch phones, I-pods, mini-Play Stations, computers, etc. The worst part is that we have no power to prevent this: to keep the screens out of their lives... Because, even if we don´t buy them these gadgets, they will use them at school, or at their friends´house. Everyone will convince them that they need a great collection of screens. They will communicate through those screens. I don´t think I´m being excessively dramatic when I predict that our children will socialize from a distance, as we have started to do ourselves, in this age of social networking through the internet. To say it Prufrock-style; "I have measured my life through profile-updates".
*What can we do to prevent this? To ensure that our children develop real social skills: that they be capable of maintaining a face-to-face conversation, a good old tête à tête.
I don´t want my children to live life artificially: to communicate only through screens and superficial "status updates", to play sports only "as if", with a remote in hand, from the comfort of a living-room (and I admit that Wii-ing is fun!). Building "tents" outside and going on scavenger-hunts was SO much more exciting. If it goes on like this, we´ll all go through life without ever really having to interact with one another. We´ll be disconnected, no matter how many "friends" we may have collected on our social networking sites. The future suddenly doesn´t look so pleasant at all. Not to me, at least.
What ever happened to tertulias and the like? Now it´s nothing but forums and chatrooms.
I´ve gone along with it, to some extent, but I am really displeased with these developments.
Countless articles have been published about the positive effect of these modern modes of communication on language and social interaction, but I think it has done far more damage than good. I don´t enjoy these developments at all: I don´t want to live in a world of "OMG," "TTYL," and "LOL". Why have we become so lazy?
Suffice it to say that these changes have made me a little pessimistic. Daniel & I would like to raise social children. Social and well-spoken... And I have a feeling that most of the world, and the convenience of its newest gadgets, is going to get in our way.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Of Insomnia & Inspiration
Let me know if this has ever happened to you:
One week ago, on Tuesday night, I had a 39 degree C fever and could not fall asleep. I tossed and turned, but my mind was racing and I could not sleep, despite the fact that I had not slept more than an hour or two in the days before. I wanted to close my eyes and rest, but instead I came up with a master-plan for my life. I had the most peculiar sense of inspiration and productivity.
Everything became perfectly clear in my mind: I thought of all the details that would need to fall into place for my plan to work... I wrote pages and pages (still, in my head), my sentences were concise & clever. It all made sense, and for the first time in ages I felt like I had a goal to work toward. I even "wrote" a letter to one of my old university professors to ask for advice regarding my plan. I made a list of "To-Do´s" and "To Discuss". It gave me such a rush; to be so goal-oriented, for once in my life. To feel so gloriously inspired. It seemed like I finally had found the purpose I had been looking for: and (more importantly) the confidence to pursue it.
At one point, I considered going downstairs to get started. To write it all out in detail: to take advantage of that rare moment of inspiration. But Daniel would have gotten on my case. In fact, he was telling me to just go to sleep all along. And I should have. But hours passed, and I was still working on the book in my mind. Constructing proper sentences & making connections. I figured it would all still be there in the morning. In my head.
I was wrong.
In fact, I woke up feeling completely disillusioned. I didn´t remember any of my sentences: not even the witty ones! No longer inspired in the least, I nevertheless tried to tell Daniel all about my Master Plan and realized (in the midst of my explanation) that it was not so fabulous at all & that I would probably never work it out. And that is where I am today. Wondering what has happened to all my Master Plans... where have all those perfect ideas gone?
Perhaps I was hallucinating: a high fever and sleep-deprivation will do that to you.
What makes me sad is not so much the fact that I´ve forgotten all those excellent little details of my plan...but that I give up on the Plan completely. Every time.
I waver between these extremes: Inspiration and Disillusionment. Idealism and Pessimism. Dilligence and Lethargy. How is that going to get me anywhere? If I can´t hold on to that particular thought.. if I can´t remember why I thought I could make something work in the first place.
(excuse me for sounding just a tad melancholic).
One week ago, on Tuesday night, I had a 39 degree C fever and could not fall asleep. I tossed and turned, but my mind was racing and I could not sleep, despite the fact that I had not slept more than an hour or two in the days before. I wanted to close my eyes and rest, but instead I came up with a master-plan for my life. I had the most peculiar sense of inspiration and productivity.
Everything became perfectly clear in my mind: I thought of all the details that would need to fall into place for my plan to work... I wrote pages and pages (still, in my head), my sentences were concise & clever. It all made sense, and for the first time in ages I felt like I had a goal to work toward. I even "wrote" a letter to one of my old university professors to ask for advice regarding my plan. I made a list of "To-Do´s" and "To Discuss". It gave me such a rush; to be so goal-oriented, for once in my life. To feel so gloriously inspired. It seemed like I finally had found the purpose I had been looking for: and (more importantly) the confidence to pursue it.
At one point, I considered going downstairs to get started. To write it all out in detail: to take advantage of that rare moment of inspiration. But Daniel would have gotten on my case. In fact, he was telling me to just go to sleep all along. And I should have. But hours passed, and I was still working on the book in my mind. Constructing proper sentences & making connections. I figured it would all still be there in the morning. In my head.
I was wrong.
In fact, I woke up feeling completely disillusioned. I didn´t remember any of my sentences: not even the witty ones! No longer inspired in the least, I nevertheless tried to tell Daniel all about my Master Plan and realized (in the midst of my explanation) that it was not so fabulous at all & that I would probably never work it out. And that is where I am today. Wondering what has happened to all my Master Plans... where have all those perfect ideas gone?
Perhaps I was hallucinating: a high fever and sleep-deprivation will do that to you.
What makes me sad is not so much the fact that I´ve forgotten all those excellent little details of my plan...but that I give up on the Plan completely. Every time.
I waver between these extremes: Inspiration and Disillusionment. Idealism and Pessimism. Dilligence and Lethargy. How is that going to get me anywhere? If I can´t hold on to that particular thought.. if I can´t remember why I thought I could make something work in the first place.
(excuse me for sounding just a tad melancholic).
Monday, January 11, 2010
Just the Four of Us....
Why´d we have to go and make things so complicated???? just kidding. I am so excited to have two daughters. I am also very tired.
Life has gotten a lot more hectic around these parts. Daniel started back at work today, and I am sitting in a room full of laundry. Clean laundry here, dirty laundry upstairs, a washing-machine working on load number 258. If only I had a laundry-room to hide that mess!
How am I going to keep up with it? Not just with the clothes... No, with every aspect of life. I just put the girls down for naps and it feels like I haven´t accomplished anything at all. Few things are more dreadful (at least when it concerns the domestic sphere).
Time Management: I was finally starting to get things organized (before Anika was born). Overall, the house was still a bit of a disaster, but I at least managed to keep the bed- and bath-rooms clean & tidy. It was so rewarding to look around and not to see piles of junk all over the floor. Not to notice a layer of dust on every surface.
Now, on the contrary, I can hardly move an inch without stepping on something. It makes me so nervous. But here is the problem: when the girls are fed and asleep (in other words, my window of opportunity!), I can choose to do one of the following (two, if I´m lucky & particularly efficient):
*Get showered & dressed
*Eat whichever meal is due
*Take a nap
*Clean
*Cook
*Relax
That´s it. And, as you might guess, I often choose the last. Why? Shouldn´t I at least have the decency to brush my hair and put on a clean pair of socks?? Well, I should, but that hour of "nothing", of sitting in front of the computer, helps me to feel ever so slightly connected to the outside world. And that beats personal hygiene- it just does.
But it´s a tough choice. I would LOVE to take a nap. I´d also really love to sort through those piles and clean the bathroom..... (the effects of my nesting-syndrome haven´t worn off) But I prefer to talk to y´all instead.
So.....life as a family of four. It´s still sort of unreal to talk about "the kids"...plural. Makes me feel like I should be in my thirties. Arianna is taking the change very well, thankfully, though I notice that it has affected her. Of course it has. Children internalize these drastic changes, and I can tell that Ari hasn´t been sleeping as well lately. She has woken up several times from what seem to be nightmares. She calls out for me and wants to sit with me, but it happens almost exclusively when she wakes up at night. During the day, she goes merrily about her business, playing cheerfully as usual. She doesn´t complain when I hold Baby Zus, nor does she go out of her way to get my attention in those instances.
She is kind to Anika, and seems quite fascinated with her. (and, let´s face it, life is too full of exciting things such as numbers and letters.. who has time to be minding baby-sisters? Just this morning, she enthusiastically shouted "toast is de A de Ari"..so, I looked at the soggy piece on her plate, and, good heavens!, it did indeed resemble an A.)
Anika is still so easy to care for. She eats and sleeps much and well. She does, however, suffer terribly from colic at night. These colic-attacks tend to happen between 11 and 1 at night, and they last long. Poor little thing: her belly becomes like a rock, she kicks her legs frantically, and she screams out in distress. Tears roll down her warm little cheeks. And there is so little I can do to relieve it. I move her legs, I rub her belly, I try to help her get rid of those gases, but it´s tough. And, as the experts say, colic can´t always be remedied. You just have to go through it. Mothers can try to cut out certain things of their diet, or drink special teas, but, in the end, those tiny intestines just need a few months to develop. And some children suffer more as a result of this process than others.
So, the colic has been no fun. Neither has the mastitis, though I am finally getting past that ordeal.
It takes the four of us about 2 hours to get ready to leave the house for any type of outing, and this stresses Mama out. (and I am not saying 2 hours of slowly gathering our things. I mean 2 hours of rushing). Daniel doesn´t get too stressed by this, but then again, stress is just not his thing, and I envy him for his ability to just "stay cool and take a chill pill". I might envy it, but things get pretty tense when I´m trying to get myself (and everybody else!) organized and Daniel sees no need to hurry. Poor Ari has picked up on this (of course), and has been running around saying, "It´s not fair!" (with every bit of the dramatic intonation that I give it) because she´s heard me say that while I complain about not even having time to finish my breakfast.
What do I have to say for myself?? Huh? I act like a total maniac around my daughters sometimes. It´s very frustrating, and I try to make up for it by being really really calm and sweet, but sometimes mothers can´t be helped. Sometimes, we just need to let it out. And I´m pretty sure the kids will get over it eventually.
If I could just get caught up. I just need to get organized. The baby-announcements are designed and ready to be printed: I need to get that dealt with before another week goes by. And that laundry...that dreaded laundry that is filling one side of our closet (towering high above the hamper that holds it).. And the groceries. The meals that need cooking. The bathtub that needs cleaning. The list goes on, and I am so pathetically failing to finish the To-Do´s.
One day at a time, I reckon. As long as I can keep this baby fed & burped, and the other one out of trouble!!!
Life has gotten a lot more hectic around these parts. Daniel started back at work today, and I am sitting in a room full of laundry. Clean laundry here, dirty laundry upstairs, a washing-machine working on load number 258. If only I had a laundry-room to hide that mess!
How am I going to keep up with it? Not just with the clothes... No, with every aspect of life. I just put the girls down for naps and it feels like I haven´t accomplished anything at all. Few things are more dreadful (at least when it concerns the domestic sphere).
Time Management: I was finally starting to get things organized (before Anika was born). Overall, the house was still a bit of a disaster, but I at least managed to keep the bed- and bath-rooms clean & tidy. It was so rewarding to look around and not to see piles of junk all over the floor. Not to notice a layer of dust on every surface.
Now, on the contrary, I can hardly move an inch without stepping on something. It makes me so nervous. But here is the problem: when the girls are fed and asleep (in other words, my window of opportunity!), I can choose to do one of the following (two, if I´m lucky & particularly efficient):
*Get showered & dressed
*Eat whichever meal is due
*Take a nap
*Clean
*Cook
*Relax
That´s it. And, as you might guess, I often choose the last. Why? Shouldn´t I at least have the decency to brush my hair and put on a clean pair of socks?? Well, I should, but that hour of "nothing", of sitting in front of the computer, helps me to feel ever so slightly connected to the outside world. And that beats personal hygiene- it just does.
But it´s a tough choice. I would LOVE to take a nap. I´d also really love to sort through those piles and clean the bathroom..... (the effects of my nesting-syndrome haven´t worn off) But I prefer to talk to y´all instead.
So.....life as a family of four. It´s still sort of unreal to talk about "the kids"...plural. Makes me feel like I should be in my thirties. Arianna is taking the change very well, thankfully, though I notice that it has affected her. Of course it has. Children internalize these drastic changes, and I can tell that Ari hasn´t been sleeping as well lately. She has woken up several times from what seem to be nightmares. She calls out for me and wants to sit with me, but it happens almost exclusively when she wakes up at night. During the day, she goes merrily about her business, playing cheerfully as usual. She doesn´t complain when I hold Baby Zus, nor does she go out of her way to get my attention in those instances.
She is kind to Anika, and seems quite fascinated with her. (and, let´s face it, life is too full of exciting things such as numbers and letters.. who has time to be minding baby-sisters? Just this morning, she enthusiastically shouted "toast is de A de Ari"..so, I looked at the soggy piece on her plate, and, good heavens!, it did indeed resemble an A.)
Anika is still so easy to care for. She eats and sleeps much and well. She does, however, suffer terribly from colic at night. These colic-attacks tend to happen between 11 and 1 at night, and they last long. Poor little thing: her belly becomes like a rock, she kicks her legs frantically, and she screams out in distress. Tears roll down her warm little cheeks. And there is so little I can do to relieve it. I move her legs, I rub her belly, I try to help her get rid of those gases, but it´s tough. And, as the experts say, colic can´t always be remedied. You just have to go through it. Mothers can try to cut out certain things of their diet, or drink special teas, but, in the end, those tiny intestines just need a few months to develop. And some children suffer more as a result of this process than others.
So, the colic has been no fun. Neither has the mastitis, though I am finally getting past that ordeal.
It takes the four of us about 2 hours to get ready to leave the house for any type of outing, and this stresses Mama out. (and I am not saying 2 hours of slowly gathering our things. I mean 2 hours of rushing). Daniel doesn´t get too stressed by this, but then again, stress is just not his thing, and I envy him for his ability to just "stay cool and take a chill pill". I might envy it, but things get pretty tense when I´m trying to get myself (and everybody else!) organized and Daniel sees no need to hurry. Poor Ari has picked up on this (of course), and has been running around saying, "It´s not fair!" (with every bit of the dramatic intonation that I give it) because she´s heard me say that while I complain about not even having time to finish my breakfast.
What do I have to say for myself?? Huh? I act like a total maniac around my daughters sometimes. It´s very frustrating, and I try to make up for it by being really really calm and sweet, but sometimes mothers can´t be helped. Sometimes, we just need to let it out. And I´m pretty sure the kids will get over it eventually.
If I could just get caught up. I just need to get organized. The baby-announcements are designed and ready to be printed: I need to get that dealt with before another week goes by. And that laundry...that dreaded laundry that is filling one side of our closet (towering high above the hamper that holds it).. And the groceries. The meals that need cooking. The bathtub that needs cleaning. The list goes on, and I am so pathetically failing to finish the To-Do´s.
One day at a time, I reckon. As long as I can keep this baby fed & burped, and the other one out of trouble!!!
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