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?
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
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.
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