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)

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.
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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.