At Least I’ll Be Able to Play the Damn Fiddle

I’ve obviously taken a little hiatus from writing and can honestly say that I’ve been suffering from a case of the blahs. Though there are various external circumstances that have been contributing to the blah feelings, I’m wondering if my sadness stems from something deeper. After reading a bit in a book my friend Katharine bought me called, “I Was a Great Mother Before I Had Kids,” I wonder if I’m not suffering as a result of simply not being able to be perfect.

I know that sounds ridiculous, but I really think it’s true that in modern-day parenting, that is this vague, unattainable goal that we subconsciously actually think we can achieve, which of course sets us up for terrible disappointment and failure. Where does this idea come from in the first place? Before we become parents many of us do think about the kind of parents we will be. I know that I consciously thought that I would be able to produce the most well-adjusted, well-rounded, kind kids the world has ever seen based on my marvelous parenting skills. I thought that if my husband and I could introduce things in positive ways and engage happily in various activities, that my children would not see anything in life as a chore and would be thrilled to try everything. Folding laundry is fun! Being nice to my brother is great! I love all sports! I can’t wait to take music lessons! I want to potty train! I want to try new foods! I just can’t wait to read! Of course I’d love ice skating lessons! I like the process of learning things and always give my best effort! I feel very comfortable shaking hands with grown men at age five! And the list goes on. And the list is absurd. And sadly, I must admit, I really, really believed deep down that this would all be true. Despite how unaware I was that this was the case. I never would have admitted that and would have said that it’s just important to accept the child as he is, that kids are all different, and it’s important to celebrate their unique qualities.

So, you might see where this is going. Kind of looks like a train wreck. Fast-forward a few years and I’m looking at two boys going on age 8 and age 5 respectively. I’ve learned a few lessons along the way. For example, when a child seems to walk to the beat of his own drummer and not be concerned with the mainstream, no amount of Star Wars and Speed Racer videos, Pokemon cards and other trendy toys will make any difference whatsoever. And I’m ashamed to admit it, but I brought these things home. What mother in her right mind says, “honey, why don’t we turn off that educational science video and put in Star Wars?” or, “Oh, I’m glad you’re enjoying that book. I see some boys your age playing with Pokemon cards, would you like some?” I have dragged home videos, sports equipment, tacky and poorly made plastic theme toys based on cartoon characters that are directly marketed at kids during commercials and are the bane of many parents’ existences, in the hope that my older son would suddenly see the light and start demanding this crap regularly and maybe fit in better with the kids at school. However, to this day, the only two purchases he has made with his own allowance money are an Audubon field guide to wild mushrooms and a Swiss Army knife. My younger son, however, likes all the gadgets I bring home and plays with them until they break. But then, he too loses interest. Star Wars had a life span of about 4 months in our house. It’s all but forgotten now. And I’ve learned that no amount of totally fun socializing events will turn a moody introvert into an extrovert.

I guess part of me wants to make sure that I’m not DENYING my children the stuff that will help them fit in. It’s very likely that I’m looking at my kids through a veil of my own insecurities. I think they’ll be great at something I’m not because I’m giving them the opportunity to try something early. I want them to fit in and feel “normal” the way I never really did. I worry that my husband and I somehow gave them inferior genes since we have two boys and neither my husband nor I are great athletes. I ache when my 7-year olds says, “I’m not really a fast runner.” Aaack, my husband and I are not fast runners, how could we even THINK of having kids? Then he says,  “and sometimes when I run I get stitches in my side.” I gasp again because I always got stitches in MY side as a kid. How could I do this to my poor little boy?

Despite all this pain and my personal realizations about how crazy I guess I really am, there seems to be a glimmer of light shining. After all these years of giving—of cooking and cleaning and cutting toenails and arranging play dates and filling out forms and picking preschools and arranging lessons and bringing home toys and books and giving pep talks, I asked for fiddle lessons for my 40^th birthday. For me. Why? Because I have always absolutely loved the instrument, but was too afraid to try. But I decided that if I do try, I may have 40 years or so to enjoy playing, and there is no time like the present. I’m enjoying the lessons. I think the instrument fits me (it’s small). It’s a relief to think that I’m doing something for me. I’ve done freelance work over the years and have found some time to paint, but painting takes a long time with set up and clean up. I can practice fiddle for 5 minutes at a time, so it’s perfect for now when I have so little free time.

I’m enjoying my Monday night fiddle lesson enough to not be willing to enroll the kids in an activity on the same night for fear I’d have to give the lessons up. If my husband has to travel for work, I plan to drag the kids to the half hour lesson with me. Dinner may not be so spectacular on those nights. But I’m thinking that ironically this may be one of the greater gifts I can give them. It will give them a chance to see that I respect myself enough to do something just for me. It will also give them both a chance to see someone go through the process of learning something new, being bad at first, working at it, and slowly improving. These won’t be lessons I will lecture them with, they will just learn by watching, if they choose to. And maybe they won’t notice it or think about it now, but it will inspire them to try new things and not be afraid of failure when they’re older. Or, maybe it won’t. But whether or not they love tennis or always remember to say “please and thank you,” at least I’ll be able to play the damn fiddle.

And We’re Competitive About Cupcakes?

I recently received one of my alumni magazines (about which I’ve written before) and read the following article: http://www.colby.edu/colby.mag/issues/current/features.php?issueid=48&articleid=906

To be honest, I wasn’t really sure what the point was. I think, though, that it was about how these incredibly high-powered women who sound like they chew nails for breakfast wish their husbands would help pack lunches and make kids’ doctors appointments, and then they would have perfect balance in their lives. However, their ideas of parenting (I am paraphrasing here) include taking turns relieving the nanny and taking the 4-year old to school once a month (I’m serious). How can they think they will ever find balance? And they are sad that they will never be able to compete with moms who bake gourmet cupcakes and attend their kids’ sporting events. Whatever. And why do I feel like I will be viewed anti-women because I wrote this? I think of myself as a feminist and think men and women are equal in their abilities. I do think the women mentioned in the article are crazy though. 

I included my response below: 

I was confused by the article “Double Duty” in the winter 2009 issue. Was the point to say that these women would be having an easier time if their husbands took on more domestic responsibilities, or was it a celebration of what these women are achieving in business? I found it depressing. Every educated, two-career couple must make hard decisions when they bring a child in to the world. That child arrives with a 24-hour a day need for care. Two parents with two full-time jobs suddenly have three full-time jobs, one of which comes with strong emotional needs. Every family must decide what will work for all of them as individuals and as a unit and usually both parents need to make sacrifices and compromises.

The careers these high-powered women have chosen typically do not allow time for family, a condition that was at one time reserved for men. If both members of a couple choose these types of careers, then there will never be enough family time, whether the husband does his fair share of laundry and appointment-making or not. I’m not saying the women should not pursue these careers, but I believe that families find more balance when one or both members of the couple put the brakes on their careers for a while when they have kids at home. In choosing to push the careers forward full-throttle at a time when kids need you the most is not taking their needs into consideration. It is a selfish decision, and an imbalance is an inevitable result.

The fact that these women feel they are competing with moms who bake gourmet cupcakes, volunteer at school and attend sporting events is sad. What child cares about gourmet cupcakes? Where people spend their limited time is a reflection of their values, whether it’s at work, the gym, volunteering at the homeless shelter or at the tanning salon. And parents, mothers and fathers, who volunteer at school and attend sporting events, are there because they want to be—they value time with their children. No trophies are handed out, but the families that spend time together benefit by having a strong bond, shared memories, and a connection to their community. Relationships reflect the amount of effort that are put in to them and this is true with colleagues, a spouse, friends and kids, and we all have the difficult decision of deciding where we will put that energy.

I know many women (and men) who are proud to strong models for their children by bucking society’s obsession with status, money and egocentrism, and performing one of the most undervalued jobs in our country: raising our kids. 

For the Love of Animals

Now that our children are 4 and 7 years old and old enough to appreciate and help care for a pet, my husband and I thought it would be a good time to get a couple kittens for our family. Our children were thrilled. We looked at the animal control web site, filled out the application, and followed their instructions on bringing the whole family to choose and meet our new pets. We arrived on Saturday, and went from cage to cage, looking at litters of kittens caged together and cats on their own, and so many that it breaks your heart. Although there were many charmers, there were two female siblings that we all fell in love with. We held them, and they snuggled on our boys’ laps. We all decided that these were the ones for us, and took their cards up to the front desk to schedule our interview. After we left the shelter we went to the pet store, and then arrived home loaded with cat litter, food, grooming tools, and toys. Our sons chose names for our new kittens, “Lavender, because it’s a pretty name for the cat,” and “Lava, because the kitten’s fur looks like fiery rocks.” On Wednesday, I arrived for the interview with my youngest son. I was surprised to be greeted and led down the hall by a woman who did not smile. She began asking questions in an accusatory tone that immediately made me defensive as though we were guilty until proven innocent. She grilled me about two cats we had that now live with my husbands’ sisters (they took them when we were going through a time of huge transition). She made me feel as though we had made a horrible choice to find new homes for them, even though we had responsibly found safe and loving homes for them (and would have taken them back but my sisters-in-law wanted to keep them). She asked me our views on having cats declawed, and since we have learned details about this procedure in the past I told her we don’t believe in it (although I could see how someone might not understand what the procedure entails and might say it’s okay to do). She then asked me how I felt about allowing cats outside, and I replied that I think that cats tend to like to go outside and be in nature. She then told me our application has been rejected, and we can’t have the kittens. “What?” I asked, shocked. She told me it is illegal to let cats outside in Frederick County. I told her I’d never heard that, but asked, “what if we are willing to obey the law?”  She replied that she couldn’t believe that we would after my response, and she sent us on our way. I felt that I had been led into a trap.

Needless to say, my children are absolutely devastated and we are utterly stunned. Let’s see, we are very responsible people who hold jobs, volunteer for the PTA and are actively involved in our community. We own a home and have perfect credit scores. We have well-cared for and loved children and a loving home. I am a stay at home mom and my husband often works from home, so any pet in our care would have lots of company, all the time. Almost every aspect of our lives is a reflection of responsible, thoughtful decisions we have made. As my friends said later, “but you guys are the poster people for who should have a pet!” We think so too.

I did some research. It is not illegal for cats to be outside, but they may not leave the property. The people at the veterinary clinic I called did not know this either. Then I read an interesting article in Maryland Newsline Business, dated October 24, 2008*, entitled, “Economic Crisis Hits Home for Pets.” In the article I read, “At Frederick County’s only shelter, pet surrenders are up 10 percent and euthanasia rates are up 18 percent this year over last, said Director Harold Domer. The shelter has a capacity of 241 animals. All of its foster homes are full.” Executive Director Dr. Lizel Salmon stated further, “The shelter is currently over capacity with more than 250 animals needing homes.”

I look at our empty cat food bowls, the unused cat toys and scratching post. I think of Lava and Lavender in a tiny cage in an overcrowded shelter instead of being with a loving family and wonder if a “suitable” family will ever be found for them. I think of how I feel I was tricked with a question few people know the answer to, and how horrible it is that they made my children meet the pets first. I think about the disservice done to my family and those poor little kittens. I think about the statistics I read in the article about how the euthanasia rates are up this year, and hope that that won’t be the fate of the kittens we weren’t allowed to adopt.

Of course I understand the need to protect animals from possible neglect or abuse, but I think a better way to choose adoptive owners is to simply find extremely responsible people who are willing to make the best decisions for the pet and assume responsibility for the pet for the duration of its life. I think it would made sense that good parents would probably be good pet owners, as the responsibilities are similar: to love and care for dependent creatures and make the best decisions possible for them. We are constantly making new decisions about how to parent our children based on new research on what kids should and should not eat, should and should not watch or play with and how they should or should not be disciplined. We would do the same for our kittens and make all the best care decisions for them when presented with laws and current philosophies on what’s best for their wellbeing.

Apparently the Frederick Animal Control center doesn’t agree, and would rather euthanize homeless cats than place them with a family like ours.

* http://www.newsline.umd.edu/business/specialreports/foreclosures/foreclosurepets102408.htm

Too Much Responsibility

I think I could get rid of a lot of my anxiety if I just had the answer to one simple question: Do people end up the way they are more because of nature or more because of nurture? I would so love to hear, with certainty, that the answer is nature. I just love coming across studies and stories of twins separated at birth who meet as adults and find their lives are uncannily similar. For example, both twins love to play the cello and garden, they are both huge football fans, and both have four kids. Because, if I knew for certain that nature plays the biggest role, I could lean back, exhale, and stop worrying so much about what I am doing for my children. 

You see, I am beginning to suspect that I feel that the quality and substance of my children’s futures resides entirely on me. I think I must expose them to everything because they will never find their interests or talents if I don’t. I must model and talk about behaviors or they will never learn to socialize well. I must act impassioned about every imaginable topic or they may never discover that they love that thing. I become paralyzed with fear when they have a negative experience doing something because I’m afraid they will be turned off forever. I feel I must instill an appreciation for art, athletics, culture, learning, nature, books, health, and everything else because they will never develop one on their own. 

I know this is totally neurotic. I can just hear the voices of reason saying that I should have more faith in my kids to find their own way. I can hear the voices telling me that as long as I do expose them to things and love and support and encourage them, then that’s all they need.  But try as I might I cannot shake this….feeling….it’s not exactly a belief, because I believe that it’s a crazy way to think, but I still feel it deep in my bones. I know that if one of my kids really does go off track and say, runs with a bad crowd, fails out of school, has no ambition, etc that I will feel totally and utterly responsible and that had I done something differently I could have prevented it. I try to be the voice of reason for myself. I tell myself, some kids are raised with everything and grow up to do nothing and be miserable. Some kids are given nothing and grow up to do extraordinary things and be extraordinary people. Some kids end up completely different from every other member of their family.  

I also know that if kids were really just born as blank slates and totally programmable, then my kids would enjoy spicy food with vegetables, meat and starch all mixed together. They would love to dance, would be excited to learn to ski and be quite social. I know that when my 6-year old tells me he doesn’t want to take the training wheels off because he finds bicycles “very unstable,” and then refuses to ride one altogether if he has to wear a helmet, it has nothing to do with me. I know it wouldn’t really be different if he had a different color bike or if we had the yard covered in blacktop.  

It helps having a second kid. Our youngest son is so different from the oldest in so many ways that I have been forced to realize that, it isn’t just me!  Both boys have interests that neither their father nor I share at all, which should also be a helpful sign that they are really their own people and will find their own way.  So why can’t I let got of my over-the-top sense of responsibility for every aspect of who they become? I acknowledge that I do have hopes and expectations that I wish I didn’t. I can’t shake my belief that athletic boys are going to have an easier time in life, and I worry that I gave my boys inferior genes in that area since I come from a relatively non-athletic family. I worry that there are an excessive number of geeky male genes in my family, and that I’ve passed those on. I’m not sure what that means exactly, but I know I feel that way.  

I ask myself, what do I really want for my kids? Does it really matter to me if they love mystery novels or love to ski or play oboe? Does it matter to me if they are the most popular kid at school or the most handsome? Does it matter to me if they grow up to be artists or scientists or teachers or lawyers? It doesn’t.  

I make a list. I hope that my kids have good priorities and values. I hope they’re kind. I hope they work hard at things. I hope they can make a living and have hobbies. I hope they have healthy relationships. I hope they are responsible and have the ability to solve problems. I hope they are happy, in the sense that they are able to appreciate the good things in their lives and know how to stride in a healthy way for the things they want. I hope they are healthy. I hope they are contributing members of society.  Whew. I think that’s really it, or at least most of it anyway. I’m sure I’ll think of more later. That list may be a tall order, but I think those are things I really can help my kids with. What a relief. Maybe I’ll try to relax a little and not lose sleep over whether or not they learn to ice skate in the next year or so.

A Diseased Society

I usually try to be an upbeat person, have a good open attitude and a generous spirit. Those are goals I aspire to. But, sometimes I am just tired and worn out and the very cynical and judgemental core of my nature sees an opening in the surface and comes bubbling up from the depths like lava from the earth’s center. It finds the channel through the volcano and comes frothing everywhere.

Although my more negative moods are often a result of fatigue, often an article or event will really set me off. Yesterday I read an article in the Wall Street Journal entitled, “Babysit? Maybe Next Time.” The article was generally about how grandparents these days often don’t want to babysit. Sometimes it’s because they are busy working, but often it’s because their leisure time is too much fun and they don’t want to cut into it to watch the grandkids. One elderly couple that was profiled has gotten involved in the sport of curling. So, even when the competitions would bring them near their offspring and grandchildren, the sport’s schedule made it difficult to visit, much less help out or babysit. The couple’s adult children were concerned about the grandparents priorities. Other elderly couples were mentioned who were happy to visit, but don’t do babysitting. Some were mentioned who would prefer to travel then visit or remain near their kids, and there were quotes in the article like, “we never even considered staying near the children.” The “experts” cited in the article said that the young couples need to revise their expectations of the grandparents, that they should have discussed what role grandma and grandpa wanted to play–occasional visitor or babysitter–and then they wouldn’t be disappointed. Although realistic expecatations are always important, why are the “experts” remaining neutral about something as bizarre as grandparents not feeling any real pull to be with and help their children and grandchildren? Am I the only person that finds this strange? What is wrong with people?

I don’t think grandma and grandpa should be enslaved watching their grandchildren or that they need to sign up for the role of nanny.  I think every couple should think about and plan for children and child care before having children. I think it’s wonderful if older people have active and fulfilling lives. I think that if a couple is hoping that grandma and grandpa will babysit, that they should move near the grandparents and not expect the grandparents to relocate. But, aren’t we missing something? Shouldn’t grandma and grandpa WANT to spend time with their grandchildren? Shouldn’t grandma and grandpa be aware of how difficult it is to raise young children and WANT to give their sons or daughters the occasional much-needed break? Don’t they think this benefits EVERYONE? Mom and dad get a break, grandma and grandpa get to form meaningful relationships with their grandchildren, and the grandchildren get to not only have loving relationships and influences from mom and dad but ALSO grandma and grandpa? As my mother puts it, she loves to spend time with my young sons, because they are building memories together. My kids benefit so much because my mom and dad are more adult role models for them, but they are different than my husband and me. They get different things from them. As grandparents, they dote more. Their values and interests are not exactly like my husband’s and mine, and it’s good for my kids to be exposed to them. And, my parents wouldn’t have the depth of relationship with my kids without babysitting them sometimes, because if my husband and I are present, our influences are stronger and our kids gravitate to us. Without us around, they can more fully develop relationships with grandma and grandpa. Everyone benefits from, and is enriched by this. Isn’t this a no-brainer?

My husband thinks it’s because these grandparents mentioned in the article are from the “me” generation, and they’re all still thinking about me, me, me. It’s sad to me that they are missing out on relationships with their grandkids, and depriving their grandchildren of meaningful, close, loving relationships with an older generation of family. How are any young people ever going to respect older ones if they don’t know any? And, with the breakdown of family, when will the cycle ever stop? Families already spend shockingly little time together. One couple in the article that wished grandma and grandpa would babysit had mom working “more than full time” and dad working “full-time and going to law school at night.” They have two young boys. When do they see each other? Don’t they know that they will never get this time back? That they will never have time together as a family if they don’t now? And, then with grandparents saying, “I won’t babysit, but I’ll pay for daycare,” who exactly are these children supposed to form relationships with? An ever-changing rotation of underpaid daycare providers? Don’t they realize how much better it would be if they occasionally babsit their grandkids? That grandma is often interchangeable with mom, in the eyes of the grandchildren, in her role as trusted nurturer who loves them unconditionally?  Isn’t this a sign of a diseased society if no one can even appreciate the most basic, fundamental thing in life which is creating, nurturing, protecting and enjoying family?

After I read the article I turned on the radio and caught the Tabbis Smiley (sp?) show on our local NRP station. He interviewed a woman who is part of an organization that is hosting a contest to help fight childhood obesity. The interviewer said, “I saw a bumber sticker the other day that read Eat Less Exercise More,”and he said, “doesn’t that say it all? She said that well, they’re trying to find a fresh, new approach to see what will get these kids moving. Fresh new approach to get kids moving? Something like kickboxing or jazzercize or pogo sticks? How can she think a gimmick will combat this problem? There is no magic bullet. The kids need to eat less and exercize more. They need to get off the couch and away from the TV and computer and out into the yard or the park and play. They need to stop snacking constantly and eating junk food and families need to eat meals together. Why don’t they give me the prize money? I can go on….people need to live somewhere they can actually WALK. People need to move out of suburban communities that don’t even have sidewalks and find a place where they can walk to a park, friends’ houses, a few shops and restaurants. And the restaurants need to serve less food. Americans have to get used to smaller portions. I simply cannot get over all the fat kids I see these days. It seems to me that MOST teenaged girls I see are about 20 lbs. overweight. They are also wearing too much makeup and not enough clothing, but now I’m showing my age. When I was a teenager we also wore ugly makeup and clothes, but most girls were normal weight, with just a few overweight kids sprinkled here and there. And overweight back then was maybe a bonus five or ten pounds.

No wonder so many people feel lost these days. It’s a crazy world. I mean, if grandparents can’t see why it’s normal and even desireable to help their kids a little and get to know their grandchildren, and if your average person can’t even figure out how to eat the right amount of food and stay healthy, why should we believe that any other aspects of our modern life are in balance? We are a culture of selfish, work and achievement-obsessed consumers that consume, consume, consume. We consume stuff, we can’t ever get enough. We consume food. What is that void everyone is trying to fill with all the overconsumption? Until we figure that out, we will continue to be a diseased society, one that seems to be getting sicker, not better, with time.

Thoughts On World Peace

It’s occurred to me, at various times, that we will never achieve world peace going about the way we are going about it now. Which is to say, the world leaders get together and discuss things, whatever they might be, and perhaps negotiatate and make deals. I don’t know what they say. Maybe G.W. Bush talks oil prices with the Saudis? Maybe he talks business and sports with everyone in general? Maybe all the crusty, corrupt, power-hungry and usually male world leaders try to barter or posture during their meetings. Who knows? We just see pictures of them shaking hands, and then they tell reporters what they want them to report. Then we, the U.S. and our allies, bomb someone if we want something to change. And then lives are ruined and innocent people die. The innocent people are the non-political and non-military people, and often children.

Then I start to think about micro-loans, the practice that is increasing in popularity of getting poverty-stricken people in devasted areas out of their plight. These loans are small loans made to WOMEN in impoverished areas. The women, from what I understand, start small businesses and do anything they can to help their children and improve their communities. From what I heard, lenders first started with the men in these areas, but then found that the men got drunk or squandered the money and never repaid it. The lenders got smart and lent it to the women instead. The women, hungry for opportunity and desperate to improve their lives and the lives of their children, started businesses and invested in their communities. They are so successful that the practice has caught on and expanded.

Why wouldn’t this work in other arenas? I have nothing against men, know and love many and am the mother to two boys, but there is something completely overlooked in regard to women. We are life givers. Yes, men have their part, but without women there would be no life. We carry the babies and nurture them with our bodies. Then we give birth and nurture the babies with our bodies. We love them and are usually the primary care givers. This is amazing. At a time when so many women seem to want to be men and pass those duties on to others, I think we really need to come back to realizing the importance of mothers. Mothers represent life, now and in the future. And, with all the differences among all the people in the world, motherhood is universal.

After the birth of my first son I felt a deep connection, not only to all other human mothers, but to all other mammalian mothers. Sitting their nursing for something like 8 hours a day, I felt connected to my neighbors, cats, cows and manatees. The love, the protectiveness, the vulnurability, that’s how we all feel. Mamma bear? She feels the same I think. Mother from Afghanistan, France, Uruguay and Zimbabwe? She feels the same. I must protect this baby, and hope for a better world to raise it in.

So, why don’t we have all these women meet? I truly think we should forget about having old men meet–men counting their money and their girlfriends and their deals and stroking their pride. Forget them. Get women, community leaders from all around the world, to figure out how to get along. To figure out how to overcome religious, political and cultural differences and figure out how to get along so that our children, the future of our planet, actually have a place to live in when they grow up. To guarantee that we will have grandchildren to bounce on our knees, grandchildren that have enought good food to eat, clean air to breathe and freedom to pursue fulfilling lives. Let’s try a new approach.

Eat, Pray, Like

I am reading Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert right now, a very popular book of the moment. I’m really enjoying it. I can’t help avoiding a sense of melancholy longing as I have traveled to all of the places the book takes place in, though I spent little time in Italy. I also did not visit an Ashram in India. When she mentions at one point all the things she thought she might like to see in India, those were among the places I visited instead. However, I spent quite a bit of time in Indonesia, and remember staying a while in Ubud, the village where the author stays. The memories have come flooding back, all the rice paddies and art and flowers and friendly people and beauty. I remember the compounds and rituals and beautiful people and the food. I remember answering “belum” (not yet) to the question, “are you married?” And I remember telling people “jalam jalam” (just walking) when asked where I was going. I remember visiting the Monkey Forest, where a monkey climbed on my shoulder and stole my earring. He pulled it right out of my ear without me feeling a thing, and ran off with it, stopping now and then, taunting me. It’s extraordinary for me to think that many of the people she meets there must have lived there when I was visiting, though my trip in no way resembled hers. I was younger, more naive, had much less money, and my only quest was to have experiences and see new things. It’s fun to revisit these places vicariously through the author, as the trip I took seems so very long ago.

The experience the author had is making me a bit envious, really. I am blown away by the people she has come into contact with throughout her journey, and the incredible experiences she had. Of course, she set out on her quest with very specific goals for each country she visits; she had just gone through a traumatic divorce and was on an intense spiritual quest. But every now and then I think about the fact that different people, and I mean different people as in all people, each and every person, experience the world differently. The author draws people to her, even when her state of mind might suggest that she would push people away. People seem to WANT to help her, yet she never seems truly vulnerable. She can be miserable and lost yet retain her strength and sense of humor. In any case, I think about how radically different the experiences of different people are. I had an incredible life-changing trip, but I didn’t meet God or buy a house for a needing Balinese woman when I went on walkabout, and I’ll bet that most other travelers on the world-wide backpacking highway didn’t either. So what’s different? Was is it well-formed quest and openness to answers from the Universe?

For instance, so much of her journey is improbable. She is a high-acheiving and well-educated divorced woman in her thirties from New York. She is hugely ambitious, and already a successful author. She is obviously very bright and extremely talented and must be very shrewd too, to accomplish so much at a young age in such a competitive environment. So it’s amazing that she can let her defenses down enough to truly trust a Guru and other people that she meets on her spiritual journey. It’s also incredible that she would let the Balinese woman into her life, and completely believe her story. I don’t want to sound cruel and heartless, but when you travel in less-developed countries in the world, many, many people will come at you with one goal–to get your money. This happened to me all the time, and I didn’t have nice things or stay in nice places. I can’t imagine what it’s like for a tourist that clearly has some money. I had an Indian girl almost literally drag me to her home under the auspices of cutting my hair, and then proceeded to try to wrangle as much money from me as possible to doing different treatments I didn’t ask for: putting henna on my hands; special cream on my face, etc. I don’t doubt her true and great need, but she frightened me by how she was trying to manipulate (almost suck) it out of me. After that afternoon she had a nice lump of my money and it was all I could do to get away, I felt so violated. After living in Oakland, CA for several years, my husband and I met several times with true con artists. These were people that would come at you sweating and panting, with an incredible (and very well-rehearsed) tale of woe, and leave with the $20 or so that you gave them (with the promise to return it tomorrow)! Of course, we never saw them again and once or twice learned through the grapevine that this was so-and-so’s usual schtick, that he/she came around all the time with the same story. I was born with a heart that truly wants to believe people, so it’s hard not to get jaded when it’s been taken advantage of a few times.

I don’t doubt at all the need of the Balinese woman or the truth of her meeting God at the Ashram. I believe her stories completely. But, I am both thrilled for her and amazed at how fortunate she was to have come in contact with the people she did. She could easily have ended up at a less holy Ashram (I know a couple people who have had some strange and unsavory experiences) and she could easily have been taken in by some talented con artists (figuring out the ones from our own culture is hard enough, try to recognize those from another culture). It really does seem like she had a special guiding hand from someone or something. So maybe my envy is emanating from this point–I know she had to open herself up wide to have the experiences she did and take some huge risks, but she was extremely fortunate to have such positive experiences. Having traveled in some of the same places, I  have been groped on the street by Indian men (who sometimes think Western women are easy from Hollywood films; in Bollywood films you don’t ever see more than a kiss, if that). I was groped in Bali, too, by a taxi driver. Right in front of my boyfriend, I was grabbed between the legs. For the record I am small, I have dark hair,  and when I traveled I wore glasses, no make-up, and dressed like I had just robbed a thrift store. I wasn’t exactly dressed to kill, or even to attract any attention at all. Yet the author, despite being fair, blonde, and obviously wealthy, seems to have not attracted any negative attention whatsoever and only drew the most extraordinarily charismatic, kind, good, wise and loving people toward her.

I must admit, I have not finished the book, though I am excited to. She has just commenced her affair with Felipe, the Brazilian, and I am truly hoping that it goes really, really well. I want to believe that she can come out of this year completely transformed, and I expect she will. I think she deserves to, as she has certainly logged enough grief and has made a tremendous effort to get to a better place in her life. If that is truly how the book turns out though, I will expect her to open her own Ashram in a few years as she seems to have a direct pipeline to getting what you need from the Universe, which is something, to quote the Lorax, “that everyone needs.” This, I hope, takes me back to an earlier point. Different people have very different experiences, even under the same circumstances. Perhaps the author is truly interacting with her environment in a very special way, drawing very particular experiences to her. Or perhaps she was very open and very much searching, and at that moment in time, everything fell in to line to provide her with what she needed. We all experience this on some level, at different times. And I do think that when you are really looking, and when your eyes are really open, you do get what you are looking for. I wish her luck–in the rest of the book and on the rest of her journey. She’s restoring a bit of my faith in the magical, and maybe with more faith, some day, I will make bolder moves than I have so far, though hopefully not driven by such negative circumstances. In the meantime I will eat, I might try praying a bit, and I sure do like a lot of things.

You’re So Special

I know that not so long ago, people didn’t give all that much thought to parenting. They just had babies. Maybe they wanted a lot so they had extra labor on the farm. Maybe they had fewer if they were city people. Maybe some people didn’t give too much thought to how many they had. Once the child could get around, depending on the society, they would either “go out and play” or perhaps help do simple tasks and were looked after by older siblings and cousins. I know childhood wasn’t the same everywhere, but prior to 1900 or so, I think wherever people lived, parenting didn’t change much from generation to generation. Therefore, if a new parent found him or herself confused by certain behaviours or developmental stages, that parent probably found grandma’s advice very helpful and relevant. But now, things are changing so quickly, parenting is not unlike swimming in murky water–you try to head in the right direction, but you don’t really know where you are going.

Our households have changed. Many children have just one parent around to look after them. In many households, both parents work. It’s not safe to go outside any more. People are overscheduled and no one wants a regular kid, everyone wants a genius that will receive a sports scholarship to a top school. Sports no longer last only one season, and entire families run their lives according to their thirteen year old’s traveling soccer schedule. Children spend time in scary chatrooms on the internet with child molesters, and a lots of kids never play outside. In a generation or two kids have gone from being mostly skinny to mostly fat. Children are raised in houses with a TV and internet connection in every room. It’s a crazy, crazy, world, and it doesn’t much resemble the one I was raised in, which was way different from the world my mother was raised in.

I have to say, sometimes I gaze at old illustrations, the Norman Rockwell type that depict a rosy-cheeked boy playing in a bedroom that has a bed, a dresser, a stool, a ball, a toy train, a book, a circular rag rug, and nothing else in it. It just looks so easy, pure and simple. I imagine that that same small child spent his early years running in meadows until he was old enough to go to school. Then, when he was about eight, his parents declared that because he’s such a smart, good boy he will be lucky enough to take piano lessons. He reacts with utter glee–he is so thrilled that he can barely hide his tears and knows that this is indeed an honor and priviledge he is receiving. Then, this same boy saves the money he’s earned from doing chores for an elderly neighbor and buys himself a bicycle when he’s 11, which he cherishes. He plays ball with friends when he can and does well in school. And, I wonder, what kind of a future does he have in this different, simple world? Well, since he did well in school he could go to college. As an adult, he plays piano beautifully, and he remains athletic and active throughout his life, continuing to enjoy ball sports and cycling.

He sounds great, doesn’t he? Smart, well-rounded, a good future ahead of him. He learned to help others by helping his elderly neighbor. He sounds possible too, doesn’t he? A simple childhood like that could really produce a successful person like that, couldn’t it? He managed to turn out so well without being enrolled in eight different kinds of lessons at once, without baby Einstein, without having special tutors, without a TV in his room, without video games and without ruining his knees by playing too many competitive sports year-round with no down time.

But, even if the simple version of childhood did produce a fine, productive member of society, I can’t raise a child that way any more that I can start sewing my own clothes or churning my own butter. Okay, I guess I could do these things, but I would be a freak and not fit in to society and I would be raising a freak.  So what is the right path now? Every few years there are parenting gurus and popular schools of thought that tell us how to raise our children, but then a few years later we realize they were wrong. Or, even if they weren’t wrong, they certainly weren’t absolutely right.

For example, I remember torturing myself as to whether I should be more of an attachment parent–if I should have the baby sleep with me until it wasn’t such a baby any more, if I should shun the crib that I read was “like putting a baby in jail.” I read that letting a child “cry it out” could torture the little soul for life. Now, after raising two boys to the point where they just go to bed, I can’t believe that there is such a debate about all this nonsense. If a parent wants to sleep with a baby and not use a crib and not let the child cry it out, that’s fine. But if another parent wants to get some sleep and teaches the child that night time is not social and play time, believe me, it works just fine and the baby will eventually get it and not be scarred for life. Crying it out is really no different than having children get upset about doing other things they don’t want to do, such as help clean up toys or eat their vegetables before dessert.

Anyway, now I wonder what is true and good about all other modern parenting approaches that will affect my children as they get older. Obviously, following the mainstream is not advisable unless you want an overweight, video game-addicted kid on ritalin that doesn’t know that french fries are made from potatoes. It seems to me that in most ways, modern parents are missing the mark. But, it gets trickier–most kids are overscheduled which I instinctively think is not good, but how do you know when the opportunities you can provide for you child in today’s world are too much? Does it matter if they learn to swim at age four or age eight? How about learning to read, play a musical instrument, learn to ride a bike, learn to ski, etc? I’d hate to think that I’m expending all this energy trying to provide lessons and opportunities, if it doesn’t really matter when they get them? If it doesn’t make a difference if some things happen at age five or age ten?

Another minefield of an area that is so confusing in modern parenting is how much to discipline, how much to praise, how to do it and when? I read one crazy article after another about how employers need to give their new, young employees little rewards and praise all the time, regardless of whether or not they earned it, because they were raised on it. These young people entering the work force always heard, “you’re so special,” from mom and dad, and I guess school teachers and coaches too, so now they need to hear it all the time. I have heard of public school teachers having to change a student’s grade just because a parent complained, and not because the grade given did not accurately reflect the quality of the work completed. What I find interesting is that many of the young people who were constantly told how great they are, who had their grades changed to protect their self-esteem, are now rebelling, and saying they can see through the empty praise and don’t want it.

I like the popular modern parenting style of praising effort and not just end results. I do think my kids are special and I want them to know it, but I think of it as that very wonderful things you get from your parents, unconditional love, the kind of love that makes my children appear to glow when I look at them because I am blinded by motherly love, and I know full well that other people do not look at my children that way. That is why I need to raise them to be polite, hard-working and kind, so that they will be special, in a real sense. But I do wonder, what will become of the young people today who had their grades changed and need praise? Some of them feel entitled to good jobs, great apartments and high salaries at young ages. Mom and dad can help out, however creepy I find it, by negotiating salaries with their employers and paying their rent. But then what? What does a sense of entitlement do to someone? If it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy, then maybe someone could argue that it’s not so bad. “I think I deserve it, therefore I do,” and then they just go on to get the things they want because they act like a person that should have them. Or, maybe these young people are set up for a huge fall. The day mom and dad get sick of babying a perfectly healthy and competent 35-year old. The day they get sick of paying junior’s car payments or mortgage and the illusion bubble bursts. “No, really honey, I was wrong. You know you will always be my little buttercup, but life is actually hard and you have to work and struggle sometimes, and even then, sometimes it’s unfair.”

I’ve heard an opinion that being a good parent in today’s world is like walking against the wind. I think that’s probably true. I admire the people that have a little more courage than me, and seem to have a more relaxed attitude. I can think everything around me is crazy, but still, I find myself feeling a sense of urgency in raising my children to have them reach their next milestone, whatever it is. I have a hard time just letting them be. It freaks me out a little when I realize that my kids have more unstructed time than most, that even the pace that we keep, which seems too fast, is slow and mellow when compared to what I read about in the news or see on TV. When I realize this, I know that in some ways we are bucking a trend by letting our kids have real childhoods, but I know I can do more. I’m not ready for the cow and the butter churn, but maybe I’ll get one of those old-fashioned illustrations of a boy with three toys, and hang it on the wall in prominent view.

Change in the Air

Change is a natural and inevitable part of life, like birth and death. There aren’t so many things you can count on happening, but you know you will experience change–all kinds of change–in your lifetime. Some of it is gradual and almost goes unnoticed, like the design of cars, which you might only notice when you are looking at old photos, or like our house renovation, when every now and then there is a new knob on a door. Some change is huge and planned, like a wedding or move to a new city. Some is huge and unplanned like the loss of a job or winning the lottery. And then there is just constant, cyclical change. I think it is this latter kind that can be the hardest to deal with. It’s the kind of change that keeps interrupting your rhythm. Just when you get the kids used to wearing mittens and snow boots the temperature shoots up to 70 and you have to convince them to wear sandals and shorts. Just when you finally get all your grill gear together and have enough sun block and insect repellent on hand, the weather cools off and you have to find stew recipes and remember to buy cold medication and caulk the windows.

Time really seems to be speeding up for me, so these cyclical changes keep sneaking up on me and sometimes I feel positively blind-sided by them. Sometimes I can’t keep up with the seasons: the snow has melted before I managed to plan a great outing involving sledding or ice-skating; the berries are gone before I remember to go pick them; the Indian corn has been plucked clean by birds before I hang any up for decoration; summer passes before we go kite-flying (and we don’t have a kite yet) and the list goes on. I also can’t seem to keep up with the changes in my children, and let’s face it, children change really quickly. You never experience a season twice with your child at the same stage, especially really little kids, so every time you encounter a new season you have to think about it in terms of what activities your child can and is willing to do now as opposed to last year.

The change of seasons coincides with the change of the rhythm of the school year and summer vacation. When there is school, there is more or less a set routine that hopefully works for the whole family. And then, one day, it just ends. There is no more school. I was not prepared for my five-year old to burst into tears because he is so sad to finish preschool. It hadn’t really occured to me that he would miss the friends he’d made this past year, because making his own friends is brand-new for him. I hadn’t really arranged play dates with his school friends because I knew they wouldn’t be in school together next year. I wasn’t really prepared for the school year finishing and then leaving for a one-week vacation and then returning to a whole new reality where we had no routine and some of our friends were on vacation or have incompatible camp schedules. I am not fully prepared for the needs of my growing boys, particularly the need of my older boy to have some more male playmates. He loves his female best friends, but I increasingly notice how little interest he has in interacting with a large group of girls. It’s perfectly normal, they just do things that don’t interest him such as dress up as princesses and put on dance performances.

For a week or so I was trying to figure out why I feel blue. Then I realized that it’s probably the change that’s overwelming me a bit, even though I consider myself someone who handles change well. But, as I think more about it, I handle BIG change well. A change of home or job? No problem. I have embarked on several adventures in my life that involve leaving much of my known life behind for an unknown future, and that I find exciting. But little, fussy, unwelcome, cyclical change? That drives me nuts. I find it exhausting–you have to constantly retune, rethink, readjust to each new little change. It’s the kind of change where you can’t get too comfortable in your nice little routine and existence because it’s going to be different soon and you have to be on your toes, ready to adapt to the new reality. In many ways, I have to admit, this change and the agitation I feel from it is good. Feeling uncomfortable is a good catalyst to make whatever adjustment is necessary to whatever it is that’s changing. It’s the impetus to buy the winter clothes or wash out the kiddie pool or make a social plans. It’s probably that constant tickle of unrest that leads to things actually getting done, but still, I don’t like the feeling. I feel like I’m a step behind what needs to happen in my life, not a step ahead, which is where I prefer to be (or like to think I am).

So where does that leave me? On the brink, I hope, of making all the little adjustments I need to finish making the transition to summer a smooth one. And, with any luck, I will stop long enough to enjoy the summer activities that we do do: trips to the pool and the beach, eating watermelon and popsickles, warm summer evenings and concerts in the park, and not worry about ones we don’t do. And, with a little more luck, I will face the transition to fall, a new school year, and all the new adventures that lie ahead with a little less agitation and more understanding.

Boys

Every now and then I look, really look at my children and think to myself, “oh my god, I am the mother of two boys.” You’d think it would be obvious, but knowing the gender “it’s a boy/it’s a girl” is one thing and realizing that the two sexes are really really different is another. I think that before I had kids I really found merit in the nature vs. nurture debate and thought that boys and girls were equally attracted to all types of play and it was just us parents shoving dolls or trucks in their hands during infancy that determined how they turned out. I no longer think that. Males are just born very male. And, since I am married to a man, I am surrounded by the essence of maleness all the time. Oh sure, I can say that my husband loves flowers and doesn’t watch football, which is true. And I can talk about how Jasper is pretty calm and also likes flowers and has a gentle nature, which is also true. But, Hugo, Jasper’s little brother, is a rough and tumble guy, and he’s bringing that side out of Jasper. Or maybe Jasper is just developing that side as he’s getting older. Whatever the reason, I am learning that there are certain things that male people innately enjoy and do. Here is a list:

1. All male people enjoy head-butting. Just so you know, I didn’t know what head-butting was until I was about 28. My 2 1/2 year old discovered head-butting on his own by the time he was one. Just tonight, after I brushed his teeth, he head-butted the fish on the shower curtain. “Oh, dat’s a big one, I’m gonna head-butt it.”

2. All male people like things that shoot. Forget about toy guns making them violent, they all invent guns on their own without ever having seen one. Young male children toddle over to sticks, pick them up, and with a look of delight on their faces utter the word, “shooter” for the first time.

3. All male people like to wrestle.

4. All male people think farts are funny. This is really, really true. Are there any parents of girls out there that can tell me their daughters find farts funny? I just don’t get it. Sometimes I just have to leave the room.

5. All male people find construction sites interesting. This is just astounding to me. I made it my whole life barely acknowledging construction sites. Until recently I think the only machines I could name were: dump truck, steam roller, and steam shovel. Now I know them all, and in incredible detail. I know the difference between a mere backhoe and an excavator. I know the difference between an aerial bucket truck and a cherry picker. I know exactly what those crawler tracks do, and what kind of cranes are the tallest in the world–and if you’re the mother of boys, you will too.

6. All male people like to have the “right” answer. Ok, maybe this isn’t universal, but many years back my friend, Ros, told me about “male answer syndrome” which is a condition when men will give an authoritative explanation for something they know nothing about. It seems certain men suffer from this more than others, but I do suspect that Jasper has a pretty bad case.

It’s so strange for me. I have a brother, but he was a really cerebral, bookish kid and I don’t remember him running around tackling anyone. I always thought I’d have a little girl who would like to play with dolls and wear dresses and sing songs from Annie and the Wizard of Oz like I did. I have to say, I am hoping I’m up to the task of raising sons. I recently brought my five-year old son to a birthday party and all they did was shoot each other with mini water canons for two hours, except for a cake-eating break. They all loved it. Jasper raved about it afterwards, “that was SUCH a fun party, mommy!” Soon afterward he went to a friend’s house, a boy his age with an older brother. They played with his racetrack, shot at each other and I think played video games. We don’t have any of those kinds of toys in our house and I’m wondering if any of his male friends will want to play here. He starts kindergarten in the fall and I know we will have more boys here for play dates.

I have given up on gender neutrality. I don’t want violent toys in our house, but I am certainly not going to go against their basic interests and what they find fun. I am learning certain things about what it means to be male. Boys like things with wheels and anything that moves: rocket ships, airplanes, blimps, balls and scooters. Boys like mechanical things and they like to know how things work. Boys tend to have messier handwriting than girls. Boys don’t really care about clothes, as long as they are comfortable.

All of that said, I love my little boys (and my husband) and wouldn’t trade them for anything. I simply can’t relate to them all the time because I interact with the world so differently than they do. I was a very girly little girl and although I outgrew the pink princess dresses I still find that I am very much like my female friens and very different from men. And now, while I am on this wild ride of parenthood, I will be raising two children whose experiences and feelings will not be like mine are now or ever were. I won’t always be able to give them pearls of wisdom based on learning from my experiences. In the future, like now, I will be learning from them, and doing the best I can to help them navigate in their parallel, but different, world of the male.