Making parenting more 'adventurous'

Want to keep your kid up pall night? Have the neighborhood school kids look after your toddler? Don't feel like playing with your kid? It's all good. Other people do it! Maybe not your neighbors, but other people int the world. Just read How Eskimos Keep Their Babies Warm—And Other Adventures in Parenting.

This totally refreshing "parenting" book (I'm so over that concept, this verb—something we do, implying prescribed behaviors and benchmarks....instead of something we are—a relationship) gives snippets of how parents in other cultures deal with things like bed-time, eating habits, socialization, play. It approaches it all in a very open and à la carte manner, with the main idea not being what American parents do wrong, and aren't we so hapless, but just that there really is not one best way to do anything. So much depends on culture and environment.

One of the chapters I enjoyed most were the one on Argentina and small children not having a strict, set bed time. Whenever I hear about kids going to be at 6 or 7 pm (heck, I've heard of kids going to be in the 5:45 range) it just seems so early to me. Granted, we do the 8–830 range in our home, and everyone has their own schedule, but the strictness of insisting a kid be in bed at X hour, missing socializing, and doing real-world things with family and friends, missing life, is just sad.

In fact, it's more of the ethos of kids being more a part of life—going out to dinner with the family, even if its at 9 pm, going to parties and weddings that may last all night and catching a few zzzzs on chairs pushed together—that I think I love about the Argentina chapter.  Some would argue something like "If I tried to do that with my kid, they'd be a holy terror!" And I would just think, yes, probably, but its only because so many kids in America aren't brought up being a part of adult activities. (Uh-oh, I am sliding into the "what's wrong with America" line...it feels so inevitable, though...)

Another favorite chapter were on indigenous islanders (among other non-Western groups) who, though highly attentive to infants, just didn't play with their kids and thought this was a silly and strange thing. Author Mei-Ling Hopgood gives an interesting brief background on the history of play and toys in America that ties in well with the idea that adults playing with little kids is somewhat not natural and was something foisted on us (mostly moms, of course, as we were the ones at home when all this started mid-20th-century). And she tells of how smaller kids get swooped up into the activities of the older kids and learn socialization from their play in groups.

In most of these cases, parents just don't have the luxury to sit around playing with their kids, anyway, because they have work to do. And another great chapter talks about how small children in other cultures are enlisted to provide real and valuable help with family work, whether its grinding corn, doing the wash, gathering water or looking after little ones. It was really eye-opening to read about just how much children can do at ages we would never think of giving them work, 3, 4, 5. The children take pride in their work and it instills competence that many kids in America don't have even in college when they're clueless about how to even do their own laundry or cook for themselves.

I really enjoyed the book's approach of simply laying out these cultural differences as items of interest rather than necessarily practices we need to take on wholesale. I mean, obviously, it's not always possible or even safe to let small kids run loose in our cities and suburbs the same way people who live in rural settings without cars can, but there are definitely elements we can take away and incorporate, if we so choose.

The title portion, on how eskimos keep their babies warm, talks a lot about babywearing, which I love. One of the nicest things about this book is that some of the practices it describes are of the attachment parenting suite—especially the babywearing, and she mentions that that same mamas who send their toddlers off to play with the bigger kids and don't talk much to them were appalled by video of Americans who they felt let their babies cry too long and put them to sleep alone in a separate room. I like the way the book takes these "attachment" practices out of the realm of some academic philosophy on child-raising and presents in a simple and natural way of this is just what these people do.

The ideas in this post continue, moving on to a related, but different theme, on what teens need. I feel like being high-touch with infants and freer with kids as they get older is something I can run with, and so it was interesting, too, to stumble on a post from sex writer Susie Bright responding to the Atlantic article on mothers and careers...

Recapturing high times

I just got back from 12 days in Europe, a few of which were spent in Amsterdam.

A former weed enthusiast in my 20s, I was anxious to partake in some of what the city had to offer in the way of legal marijuana—and I did and it was wonderful.




Prior to Amsterdam, while I had fun on the trip, I was experiencing too much stress and annoyance from family members. They were really getting to me. As I'm sure many moms feel, being on vacation with these people was no vacation. Their unending needs were still there, only in an unfamiliar place and more difficult to fulfill. That, coupled with the nagging idea that I shouldn't always have to be catering to other people's needs and asking myself why does it have to be this way...put me in some funky moods along the way. But not in Amsterdam.

Pretty quickly after settling in to the hotel and making a falafel stop, I insisted on breaking away on my own to do what I needed to do. My husband actually put up resistance. "Why do you need to do drugs the minute you get here?" And on and on. I was thinking, you, you are the reason I need to do drugs the minute I get here—ha ha!

The way he called marijuana "drugs" was offputting to me. I view it as more of a good, strong beer, but with a mental and spiritual vibe that goes beyond a drink. We watch Breaking Bad, I've seen plenty of "drugs are so bad/addicts are so sad" movies and such and marijuana is just not the same. It's not a gateway, unless you are thinking it is a gateway to "heaven," or, to letting one see and feel life on another plane for a while and a gateway to self-discovery—if used properly. It's not physically addicting, after all, and not particularly harmful to the body. Alcohol is more harmful and by now most of us have heard potential dangers of caffeine and sugar, too, but, I digress.

Admittedly, the way I used it in my younger years was probably not the best. A near daily habit to escape the drudgery of life it should not be. One should change their life. But, it's not always so easy. Dan Savage brilliantly discusses pot use in Skipping Towards Gomorrah (the chapter on sloth). He observes how Americans work more than any other nation's people, are more productive—and smoke more pot. "...pot not only doesn't have a negative impact on the productivity of the American worker, but [it] also makes it possible for the American worker...to be as productive as we are..." He further explains, "While the workweek shrinks and vacation time grows for European workers, the amount of time Americans spend at work continues to grow...How do we work like crazy without going crazy...I think pot has a lot to do with it. It's just a hunch..." Savage cites studies that have shown marijuana interferes with the ability to judge correctly the passage of time. "In other words, pot slows stuff down—way, way down," he writes.

And indeed, I was taking notes while I was high in Amsterdam, trying to figure out how I'd recapture the good feelings I was experiencing without actually having weed at home, and I noted that I run at too high and idle and I need something to slow me down. I need help relaxing. Marijuana is a damn good shortcut.

It's not a shortcut I have regular access to at home, though, and while I could probably track some down, my husband is very much against it and reminds me it is not legal. I even explain to him I would not smoke every day. I wouldn't want to anymore at my age. There's too much to do! (Ha ha) I would like to get high maybe once a quarter. I feel like what happened in Amsterdam served as a bit of a vision quest for me. I know that's not the exact right term, as a vision quest involves deprivation and solitude in the wilderness and I was basically rambling along through a bustling city high for three days (via one carefully toked joint and 4 space cakes over time). But what I mean is that it took me out of myself for a long enough time where I was able to see things in new ways, make notes and observations about what I need "in real life" and just kind of do a re-set. I can respect my husband not wanting me to do something that is illegal and maybe risking our home and life. I think it is extremely unfortunate and wrong that marijuana is illegal, however. (Savage cites a great article by National Review's Richard Lowry in his book.) I won't say that if I had easy access I wouldn't partake, though. A little civil disobedience.

What's important now, though, is doing the work to achieve the things I learned while I was high. Yes, that's right, it does involve more work. I recently read this fascinating article in the New York Times highlighting a series of fascinating commonalities in medical conditions among humans and animals—and the section on addiction and animals "getting high" was particularly interesting. The article says:

Foraging, stalking prey, hoarding food, searching for and finding a desirable mate, and nest building are all examples of activities that greatly enhance an animal’s chances of survival and reproduction, or what biologists call fitness. Animals are rewarded with pleasurable, positive sensations for these important life-sustaining undertakings. Pleasure rewards behaviors that help us survive.

Conversely, unpleasant feelings like fear and isolation indicate to animals that they are in survival-threatening situations. Anxiety makes them careful. Fear keeps them out of harm’s way.

And one thing creates, controls and shapes these sensations, whether positive or negative: a cacophonous chemical conversation in the brains and nervous systems of animals. Time-melting opioids, reality-revving dopamine, boundary-softening oxytocin, appetite-enhancing cannabinoids and a multitude of other neurohormones reward behavior.

We humans get drug rewards for life-sustaining activities just as animals do. We simply call those activities by different names: Shopping. Accumulating wealth. Dating. House hunting. Interior decorating. Cooking.

When these behaviors have been studied in humans, they are associated with rises in the release of certain natural chemicals, including dopamine and opiates.

The key point is that behaviors are the triggers. Do something that evolution has favored, and you get a hit. Don’t do it, and you don’t get your fix.

And this is precisely why drugs can so brutally derail lives. Ingesting, inhaling or injecting intoxicants — in concentrations far higher than our bodies were designed to reward us with — overwhelms a system carefully calibrated over millions of years. These substances hijack our internal mechanisms. They remove the need for the animal to input a behavior, before receiving a chemical dose. In other words, pharmaceuticals and street drugs offer a false fast track to reward — a shortcut to the sensation that we’re doing something beneficial.

This is a critical nuance for understanding addiction. With access to external drugs, the animal isn’t required to “work” first — to forage, flee, socialize or protect. Instead, he goes straight to reward. The chemicals provide a false signal to the animal’s brain that his fitness has improved, although it has not actually changed at all.

Why go through a half-hour of awkward small talk at an office party when a martini or two can trick your brain into thinking you’ve already done some social bonding? Drugs tell users’ brains that they’ve just done an important, fitness-enhancing task.

Ultimately, however, the powerful urge to use and reuse is provided by brain biology that evolved because it maximized survival. Seen this way, we’re all born addicts. Substance addiction and behavioral addiction are linked. Their common language is in the shared neurocircuitry that rewards fitness-promoting behaviors.

Consider the most common behavioral addictions from an evolutionary perspective. Sex. Binge eating. Exercise. Working. They are exceedingly fitness enhancing.

I know that's a long portion to quote, but I thought it was really good. I like marijuana—a lot. But, I do recognize the "shortcut" aspect of a drug and it's value in careful use over habitual use that might put someone in a loop of forever "shortcutting" and never growing or fulfilling real, true "fitness enhancing."

So, I must now dig into my notes from being high and look into practices for day to day life that can help me feel the calmness, the love and peace, the sense that everything was OK, that I felt in Amsterdam. (They are probably not "Shopping. Accumulating wealth. Dating. House hunting. Interior decorating. Cooking." as that article notes and more likely sex, exercise, mediation and maybe some ritualistic grooming (?)—more on all coming soon, and I'll further explain the last one...

Still, the quarterly smoke would be nice.

What did I learn?

Since I didn't relax much on my vacation, I'd like to think I came away from the week-long trial having learned something. I have a handful of happy memories, yes, but I have many sad ones, too.

I think this time in Barcelona was even more difficult than last year's French drama/disaster. Maybe it is because I thought this time would be different. I thought I'd be able to hold it together better. I thought it would be easier. It was only a week, versus 15 days, for one thing. I envisioned hanging out in parks, strolling the Ramblas and the wide avenues of the Eixample, some beach time. We did all these things, but I must have somehow forgotten that this is a bustling city. These things did not bring me the happiness I thought they would. The stress of traveling got the best of me, again. And the European service industry (at least in my experience in Spain, France and Italy), though just friendly enough, can be awfully lackadaisical to a degree I cannot comprehend. (Maybe I should have re-read last summer's post before this trip, but I forgot!)

I could also blame my troubles on the challenges of traveling with a toddler (demanding, flighty, bossy, insane) or on my husband's personality of being a little spacey and self-focused, but, bottom line, how I react to things is my own problem and must be under my own control. Problem is, I did not keep it under control. I lashed out in frustrated stress and rage at both husband and child on countless occasions. I am ashamed of my reactions to their petty annoying actions (of which there are many) and although I could go into descriptions of what went down on the trip, all the things I had to endure that I could say drove me to my anger—many might understand why I'd get upset—I am not going to because to do so would suggest that I am making excuses or looking for sympathy. I didn't get alot of sympathy from my husband on the trip when I tried to make my troubles known, it was more like, this is the way it is, this is what you've chosen, what we've chosen. And, you know what? He is right. I chose him, with his personality as it is, and here we are. I chose to certain ways of parenting my daughter, and here we are. So I will have to skillfully act in ways that will best gently shift things in the way I need them to go, and I must start with myself.

I guess that's what I learned. And it seems that its a lesson I am forced to learn over and over and over again: that the only thing I can change is me. It is just too tiring and frustrating to try and change other people. And, if my own reactions make me feel worse than the perceived offenses of others against me, I have to find other ways to react, or not react at all.

***

I was thinking alot of getting a tattoo as a ritual experience to help me remember these life lessons (since I keep forgetting them in the moments of stress). In addition to the experience, I would then have the mark as a reminder. I'm having problems with following through on the permanence of a tattoo, though. I'm also afraid of the pain, although I understand this would add to the ritual experience of it. My husband doesn't want me to get it on my wrist, which is where I want to get it. He is worried about potential job interviews! So, I started "trying one on" by drawing the design I wanted (Sanskrit script of the word "namaste") with a Sharpie. It looks good and I am thinking that maybe drawing it on each day (or filling in where it is inevitably fading) could be a ritual/meditative process (it only takes a couple minutes) and might even be better than getting a permanent tattoo, since I would have to do it regularly and that would help remind me of the purpose and the message I am trying to give myself (basically, be nice and try to be understanding of and compassionate to others).

***

It's definitely a process, though. At the present moment I have locked myself in the bathroom to finish my post and my toddler is literally banging on the door wailing...mama!!!!!!!! I've played with her already. I've made her breakfast. She said she wanted to wash her hands and made a big deal about it, totally out of the blue. We go to wash her hands and now she doesn't want to, so now what? I am done. Seriously, what am I supposed to do when I can't get a moment to myself or finish a thought? I simply refuse to CONSTANTLY play with a child. I should not have to. I refuse to constantly give a child my attention. I am confident that I give her enough attention. She is just very demanding. She is a good girl, very smart, extremely cute, but she is very demanding and I've got to curb that. There is a difference between instilling self-esteem in a child and nurturing them versus letting them think they rule the world. I am at the point right now where it is extremely frustrating to me. I mean EXTREMELY. At the moment, I feel a tad bit betrayed by attachment parenting and extended nursing. What have I gotten myself into? We have never used a babysitter except my parents, once, when we were visiting. I am resentful that I don't get much alone time with my husband and that I am almost always "on" with nearly no breaks. (Yes, I go to the gym for an hour and a half or so, but that's not enough). This is not a sustainable way of living. All I can do is try to hold on and know that kids grow up, or at least turn three, right? That's when the madness is supposed to end, I hear. I know I have seriously digressed, but this needs to be said. Maybe others can take some comfort in the fact that other good moms feel anger and frustration? Whatever. I need to get it out. The post didn't start this way, but it is going to end this way. I will collect myself and go face her and try to be kind. I learned during the vacation that it doesn't work to vocalize my anger to my husband or my daughter, it somehow just ignites it and it explodes. Whereas, as I have been doing all weekend since I've drawn on my tattoo, I can just get mad quietly within myself and let it diffuse inside and vanish, and nobody gets hurt.

***

OK. Out of the bathroom. Gave her some attention and she is fine. Fine. I am trying to teach myself that it is alright to let a toddler have their tantrum. I used to respond quickly and actively to all her cries when she was a baby. My nature is that I can't stand the sound of a baby crying (not my baby, anyway) and think that I must be doing something wrong and need to take care of it right away. I guess evolutionarily that is a good thing. I am programmed to protect and care. But, as a baby becomes a toddler and a child, I have to let go and understand that she is going to need to freak out and not get what she wants when she wants it all the time...and I don't need to get mad or be resentful, it's just part of her growing—and mine.

A different perspective

This morning while getting together breakfast for me and A, it came to me why the questions swirling around "Opting In" and all the rest were so frustrating and a little bit annoying to me. It's because it is coming at life, and motherhood, from the wrong angle. The title that speaks of "Having a Child Without Losing Yourself" automatically assumes a loss. It comes from a place of negativity and talks about how to overcome (sort of). I say, why not instead ask how having a child might help you find yourself. Or for those who have found themselves, ask how it can help you find out more about yourself, find a richer self, a deeper self, a different self...or maybe even find a way to look at life that is NOT centered around ones self! (Buddhist philosophy tends to eschew the "self".)

Now, an aside that will take us all the way across the Atlantic...
Truth be told, I first learned of the "Opting In" book through a great article on Paris I was reading in Condé Nast that said:

Women age better in France, and they are better admired as they age. One worries about being objectified by pornography, but the danger of being objectified by maternity is far greater, it seems to me. Hidden behind Hummer-size baby carriages and camouflaged in colorless sweat suits, mothers can become shadow people. Americans go for books like Amy Richards's Opting In: Having a Child Without Losing Yourself. The French have such books internalized.

The characterization of American motherhood in that clip is overgeneralized for the sake of making a point, but the article as a whole has intriguing undercurrents. Here's more:

It occurs to me that this is part of the reason French women enjoy the reputation they do—for sexiness, coolness, confidence. It's not just a matter of personal temperament but of public policy, the fruit not only of individual style but of country and culture.

"A toast for the baby girl!" exclaims a man at the table opposite. "What would you like to drink?"

"A kir?" I offer, thinking it a modest suggestion—made as it is with crème de cassis and a simple sauvignon blanc.

"But it has to be with Champagne," he hollers—and presently the waiter delivers a bubbly glass of pink.

In America, I think, I would have been ignored, sitting as I am with an infant. At any moment, after all, I might suddenly have spit-up on my shoulder. "But even President Sarkozy picked a woman with a child for his new bride!" says the beauty next to me, when I offer this remark to her. "It's true," I say. "If he were a public figure in the States and the sort of man people claim he is—vain, a show-off—he'd have picked a twenty-year-old trophy girl. As it is, he chose a fortysomething with an eight-year-old boy in tow."

And later:

I muse about the magic of all this sexual ambiguity. Waiters routinely make gallant remarks to taken women—thus reminding their partners of their perpetual appeal to rival suitors. What would be counted an insult in more macho countries, like Greece or Italy or the United States, is considered simple civility in France. Sexual relations in this country are fluid and unregulated; you are not out of the dance just because you have children, or indeed because you are married. Moralists can argue that this is a problem—but I wonder if it's not also, in some ways, a solution. The members of long-standing couples in France flirt with each other. They labor to impress one another. They seem to understand that love is complex; it is free; it answers to no law, however reasonably imposed. Relationships, therefore, become balancing acts, feats of imagination, works of art. Nothing is taken for granted, so everything is earned.

Things to think about...

What I learned from my long European vacation with a one-year old

Last month we took a long trip to France by way of Belgium, my husband, my one-year old, and I. Oddly enough, I have so many happy memories from the trip, but during our 17 days of travel, there were many times I wanted to yell or wanted to cry—and did.

Our friends and family thought we were crazy for even trying, although some expressed admiration. The fact is, it is a challenge to travel to a foreign country with a baby or toddler, even if it is a Western European, industrialized country with most of the comforts of home readily available. You still are in unfamiliar territory, the rooms aren't childproof, you don't get the breaks you might get at home when the child can just kind of safely play on their own for a bit. You want to make the most of the trip, go on outings, see some sites, but the baby wants to be a baby and do the stuff she usually does. You worry about the baby, but the baby is fine. In fact, in my case, it was really me who had the most melt downs.

The biggest thing I want to remember for next time, which applies to travel in general, not just travel with children, is to let go. My character flaw of "control freak" is a bad mix with travel. You will get lost in a 800-year-old cities with Rick Steves' sketched out maps. There will be long lines. If you don't know the language, you will face some awkward moments and have to make an effort to communicate sometimes when you don't want to. Even though I have come to this conclusion before after trips, I never seem to remember to live by the rule of "letting go" when I go on the next trip. I just can't emphasize this enough.

It would have been so much better if I had been able to embrace my lack of control over the outside world and better control my own emotions. It would even have given me a window on my child's world, perhaps. When you travel to a foreign country, everything is new and different, you are out of your element, and you can't control any of it. Welcome to the world of your baby! How cool is that? If only I would have realized it at the time—that I could get a better understanding of what my daughter might be going through at this time of her life by embracing the challenges of travel instead of just getting frustrated!

A really positive thing the trip brought to light was how there are alot of things we are doing right as parents. Three major tenets of attachment parenting—breastfeeding, baby-wearing and co-sleeping—proved to be very convenient and helpful practices while traveling.

I can't imagine how one would make a trip like this without breastfeeding a child this age. It provided food for her whenever she was hungry. Sometimes, when you're on the go, its not easy to get food suitable for a one-year-old on demand. But, she is always happy to get the breast. In addition to providing nutrients, it provided comfort for her on the go as well. As our little family made our way through bustling streets of Brussels and Paris, and the promenades of Cannes, Nice, Antibes, Avignon, Arles and Nimes—with new sights and sounds whirling all around us—the baby could nuzzle in close for a little milk when it all became too much.

Carrying my baby in the Ergo carrier was a better choice for me than using a stroller—even with my little one weighing in at 26 lbs. I must admit, I did enjoy the couple times we used the stroller, but I found it to be more of a hassle than a help as we negotiated our way via trains, narrow crowded sidewalks and bumble cobble-stone streets. She was raised more as a carried baby than a stroller baby, also, so she preferred the carrier most of the time. It was nice because when you are on the move, especially in busy cities like Paris, there are lots of people on the street, it can be crowded in some places and hard to maneuver the stroller. Also, being low to the ground while bodies shuffle by all around is probably more disconcerting to a baby than being held close to their mama up at chest level. Here, they are more a part of it all, a part of your world, and can feel so much more secure. She was even able to nap on the go in the carrier. We went about our business throughout the day and she fell asleep when she was tired, comfortable in her Ergo close to mama.

That being said, it was a little tiring walking for four or more hours a day carrying 26 lbs. You really need to be in shape to go on a trip like this with a baby or toddler. In addition to carrying her, I had to be ready to chase her! I think my commitment to working out paid off by providing me with helpful strength and stamina. I don't regret the choice I often made, when faced with a time crunch, to work out instead of do my French lesson. The workouts were more helpful!

Finally, co-sleeping, even in the transitional way we currently do it, makes sleeping arrangements easier to handle when you're traveling. If you're already used to sleeping with your baby, it won't come as that much of an inconvenience when you're forced to do it on vacation. Some hotels offer cribs, many smaller or budget ones don't. And, many babies are not likely to easily fall asleep in an unfamiliar crib in an unfamiliar room. How much cozier is it to curl up with mom and dad in their bed and feel safe and secure by their side?

Did we give up sex, with the co-sleeping? No way! Of course, if we were traveling just as a couple, it would have been easier to get romantic and no doubt we would have been more active in this arena. But, as with home life, a little creativity and timing allowed us to enjoy some breaks for sex. When a child is this young, they can sleep in one corner of the bed while mom and dad do their thing in another corner or on the floor. You get the idea.

OK, on to things we can get real clear about. Here are my overall tips for traveling with a toddler:

1. Take overnight flights, if possible—My child slept most of the plane ride over. We are lucky. She is a good sleeper who can sleep wherever as long as she's tired and mama is close.

2. Have new toys on hand for the plane and train rides—We got about $30 worth of new stuff for her that was compact enough to fit in a back pack with other carry on items. I also brought some stickers and cool stuff that I probably wouldn't let her play with unsupervised on her own (magnadoodle, stickers with beads that could be a choke hazard) but on my lap on the plane they were fine and oh so cool to her.

3. Breastfeed! But pack snacks—It is so awesome and easy to be able to just whip out your boob and make your kid happy. Bananas and crackers and stuff help, too, but nothing beats the boob in a pinch.

4. Carry your baby—A stroller can come in handy, sure, but I found our Ergo carrier to be indispensible. If I had to choose between stroller or carrier, I'd choose the carrier.

5. Co-sleep—You don't need to worry if the hotel has a crib, the baby will sleep more easily in an unfamiliar place with mom and dad close by. This one is more optional, I guess, for the sleep-trainers out there and those who are really cranky about getting lots of uninterrupted sleep, but for me, it was really good and made me glad we are transitional, semi-co-sleepers.

6. Dine at outdoor cafes or have picnics when you can—Mom and Dad can take turns rambling around with the baby so they don't get too cooped up in the highchair (which aren't always available) or on your lap—especially active walkers. European meals tend to take a long time, so it's nice to be able to let the baby take a stroll and blow off some steam so they don't fuss and go crazy at the restaurant.

7. Take your baby to playgrounds and parks—It's a family vacation. They're part of the family. Do stuff they like!

And of course, the unquantifiable—let go! Don't be upset if things don't go as planned. Be flexible. Embrace chance. Try to take it as an opportunity to see the world through a different perspective. And have fun. As hard as it may be traveling with a young toddler, the memories will so precious.

Coming soon: Notes from Seattle--Taking a One-Year-Old to a Music Festival

Going on vacation

Today, we leave on vacation...and what a great day for the Huffington Post post on "disconnecting to connect." (Funny, because my soon-to-be former employer is in the thick of their annual conference right now, and I am spending the last week of my employment with them on maternity leave, and going on vacation.)

This poster's comment touched me:

There simply needs to be a balance between our capitalism and spiritualism. A society without the essential elements of both is simply going to lose in the end. Humans as connected spirits in this universe need the spiritual side to realize that all the money and recognition and power that they are striving towards will be left behind in this material world in 80-100 odd years. The urge to do as much in those many years is great I know specially as one hits mid-age. But then again who will even WANT to know you (the person) after two generations? I agree Lincoln and Washington, Gandhi and Vivekananda have followers even today but maybe that is exactly why there is such a paucity of men and women of great stature today. No one has the time to build their convictions and strengths. Everyone is running around achieving so much and getting nowhere...The more important thing seems to be communicating about it to get instant gratification and fame rather than the world feeling the effects of actions through time. Thus we have a president who rushes into war which the countrymen had no time to think about and I am writing here now because if I don't I would never get to it in my busy day... T

I bolded that sentence because in some ways, that's how I've come to feel about blogging, although obviously I know fame is not really something I'm going to achieve. I have been thinking lately, though, that I might need to do less blogging and more living...so, here we go...vacation!

Sometimes It Helps to Have a Destination

Today I woke up after a rough baby night and just couldn't do my early morning run. Baby was up at 3 a.m. wanting to chit chat and gurgling around for at least an hour. Crazy thing was, I wanted to chit chat back with her, but knew it would set a bad pattern to engage her at that hour if I was trying to teach her the difference between night and day, so I had to just wait it out.

But, I digress. Too tired to run, I had to figure out what to do for a workout, and with low motivation, it needed to be good...Why not go to the library?

After doing an hour's worth of work from home, I got the idea. I recently had a wave of renewed interest in things French as we're going to Quebec City and Montreal this fall and are planning a trip to Provence and Cote D'Azur for next summer. Plus, with the sorry state of worker leave (maternity/paternity/vacation) in this country (contrasted with the luxe French way) and butter from the croissant I had for breakfast still on my fingertips, I had to feed the need and get some books to help transport me. The high temperature for the day was supposed to be 96 degrees (Fahrenheit), so we had to get an early-ish start and be quick about it. I'd finish up my work later.

So, off we trekked to the library. Three miles away, six miles round trip. I brought the stroller as well as the Maya wrap, which baby started out in, so we could alternate for both her and my comfort. I made sure to drink alot of water and breastfed baby throughout the trip to keep her hydrated, too.

It was definitely a decent workout and I got a set of CDs and workbook to learn some French as well as Mireille Guiliano's latest book French Women for All Seasons. (I'd previously read her book French Women Don't Get Fat and really enjoyed it.) I also grabbed an Umberto Eco book I saw and a book of bear poems to read to the baby (the latter, that is). I was set.

Walking home, I felt a sense of accomplishment. I'd found a great way to work in some good exercise and make a little bit of an outing of it. And I thought...it was cool to have a plan, to have destination.

Throughout most of my life I operated without a plan, letting whatever happened to me shape my future. I had a variety of interests and achievements. Playing flute, singing, writing and drawing as a child. Doing well at sports as a teen. It never all came together in a plan, though. I had no clear idea of where I wanted to be. Somehow, through the course of my 20s, over different relationships, jobs like waiting tables and selling leather sofas, I cobbled together a college education. I won't go into any more details in this post, but suffice it to say that I didn't plan much til I met my husband who is a big-time planner. Let me tell you, it helps to plan!

Both our plans for the future trips and my goal for the day of making it to the library on foot with a 6-week old provided me with inspiration. In future posts, I'll give more specific examples of how planning has allowed me to have a better life. For now, I'll just say that having a plan--a destination--in mind allowed me to have a better day.