The Sea

I am struggling where to start with this entry, or where it is going, so I'll just begin . . .

I'm having vividly detailed visions of the sea recently. Not a calm, sunny day, breezy sea. More like a late evening, cloudy night, slightly drizzling sea that churns and froths. The moon is full but is almost completely covered by shapeless clouds, with only a faint glow of cloaked light cast on the beach.

I find myself a part of this scene in many places, sometimes standing on the beach, watching those close to me swim in the sea, struggling, doing their best to stay afloat. Other times I am that person in the sea, splashed by waves, bobbing with little control over my direction. Later, I sit upon a floating vessel, not so much a boat, but perhaps an inflatable raft or unstable surfboard. I ebb and flow with the waves, not really going anywhere, but in a constant state of motion.

All around me, at work, at home, on the phone, in conversations with others, I find I am surrounded by and a part of unease. As I support others who are floundering, I also fumble and falter. It's not one event, one person, one area of life. It's an indefinable sea that has no clear borders and edges. This lack of definition leaves me at a loss for words, unsure of what I need. My usual compulsion to talk and consult and vent is absent. Silence feels more comfortable right now.

But I feel buoyant and hopeful. In time the strokes I need will come naturally and fluently. The clouds will part, and I will once again regain my footing, will see clearly what to do, how to proceed. There is no storm brewing on the horizon. I only need to wait and be patient, take deep breaths and keep on moving.

Playing Nice: Addendum

A quick addendum to yesterday’s post:

Last night we went swimming again, and Carter found a little girl named Erika to play with. We went through the routine of Carter asking her name, and my telling him to ask her and tell her his name as well. Names were exchanged, and the rest of the night, she referred to him as Tater and he called her Kylie, and they both responded to each other as if those had been their names all along. Erika’s dad and I attempted to clarify with our children the other’s name, but it was unsuccessful, and really, it didn’t matter. Tater and Kylie got along just fine without us.

Playing Nice

We have discovered discounted Tuesday nights at the rec center, so I have been taking Carter swimming. It gives him a chance to get out and be active, and he and I get some quality time because Mark stays home with Cameron.

It's also a place where there are community toys, children, and lots of opportunities for turn-taking, sharing, and interacting. Carter just loves any kids that will play with him. He immediately begins referring to a playmate as "my friend", and then proceeds to initiate play in any way he can. He asks me questions like, "What's her name?" and I have to tell him to go ask, and to tell her his name too. Once he finds out what he's looking for, he always turns back and smiles at me, satisfied that he now has a name to call out.

Having a young child who is learning the rules of play and social interaction reminds me on a daily basis that although we are naturally social beings, we often need to be taught the conventions that our society has established to play nice. It's one of the countless lessons that falls on the list of parent responsibilities.

It's interesting to me that Carter is aware that there are social rules, but that he acknowledges he doesn't always know them. For example, he'll say to me, "I want her boat," but indicates he doesn't know what to do. I tell him that he could offer to trade toys, and he'll do so, once again proud that he was able to get what he wanted in such a successful way.

A side note on all of this is that the adults of these children learning social rules also have to come to a common understanding of what we are going to guide our children to do. For example, if Carter wants another child's toy, but the other child doesn't want to share, then we parents both have a call to make--do we tell Carter that's the other child's toy so he can't play with it, or do we tell the other child to share?

We parents have to quickly read each other's body language and discern who needs to intervene. There is no one right answer, but we parents, not even knowing each other, understand that we have to support the other in the decision made so our kids hear a consistent message.

It's not an easy thing to do, present this unspoken united front as unacquainted parents. It reminds me that Carter's not the only one learning and practicing the unwritten social rules we all live by. As a parent, I have to remember how to initiate contact with another person, come to common understandings, and play nice.

Stopping to Enjoy the Music

This article about the reaction of the public to this violinist playing in the subway struck a cord with me. The article describes a social experiment in which Joshua Bell, a world-renown musician who can fill an auditorium with seats sold for upwards of $100, plays in the subway at rush hour and is barely noticed. It begs the question of what beauty, talent, and precious moments we pass by each moment without realizing the missed opportunity.

I know I get so busy and task-oriented that it’s hard to stop and look around, slow down the pace of the world, take a moment to breathe. I’ve written about this before, but it’s something that takes constant reminding and self-correction for me, especially now with two children to tend to on top of a full-time job. The grocery lists, doctor’s appointments, bills, laundry, dishes, and meals are so visibly before me and begging to be dealt with. My children’s requests and cries keep me on auto-pilot mother-mode where I can pour a glass of milk, change a diaper, and make a plate of chicken nuggets without even being fully conscious.

How do I turn off that auto-pilot function to look around at the scenery, the daily events whose fibers weave together to form my tapestry of memories? On my desk at work sits the above picture of Mark blowing bubbles for Carter, and a perfect bubble hovers above their head, frozen in time. How do I open my eyes and slow down my mind enough to spot that perfectly floating bubble, gone a moment later? I want to not just see, but notice and note in my memory the light in Carter’s eyes every time he learns something new. I want to permanently record in my mind Cameron’s light-hearted, carefree giggle.

You know that little black box that planes have that record everything that happens? How do I get one of those installed so that when my auto-pilot accidentally kicks on, I can refer to the little black box to see and hear what I missed. Simple joy and beauty surrounds me every day. I want to savor every last minute of it.

2009

We are at the brink of a new year, and I can feel the weight of all that brings with it. Hopes and expectations and ponderings clutter my head. Rather than create a list of resolutions that I know I will never keep, and will therefore result in disappointment, I instead choose to lay on the table a list of possibilities, probabilities, roughly sketched goals, and other ponderings. This is what tumbles out at this hour:

1. Neater closets
2. Less cluttered desk
3. Two children who will sleep through the night
4. Carter in pre-school
5. More reading for pleasure
6. More free time outside
7. A vegetable garden in the backyard
8. A girls' trip with my sister and mom
9. Less time picking up toys
10. Learning to play a new song on the piano
11. Less worry about others judging me
12. Focus on the joy, not obligation, of giving gifts
13. Forgiving myself for the parenting mistakes I will inevitably make
14. Trad leading at least a 5.8 (climbing jargon)
15. Cameron walking and learning his first words
16. Finally feeling like my body is really mine for the first time in four (!) years
17. Giving away more junk to Goodwill (this complements number 1 nicely)
18. Carefully choosing my battles, and being confident in my decisions
19. Living the philosophy of the serenity prayer
20. Learn to cook a new favorite dish
21. Eat more vegetables
22. Eat more fresh, unprocessed food
23. Model the act of giving on a regular basis for my children
24. Find time for more yoga
25. Accept that I will not meet all my expectations for 2009, and that's okay

There are the 25 that seem to come to mind at the moment. What thoughts float around in your head on such a day? Cheers to a new year.

Dissonance

Winter break officially started yesterday afternoon, and I can feel myself in a state of dissonance, too scattered to focus on any one thing for very long. I am anxious for my family to come to town in a day or two and want my house to look festive, clean, and tidy. Not because it's expected but because I am more at ease when I'm not thinking about the unswept kitchen floor.

But my mind keeps wandering back to my last day of work, remembering the few loose ends I wasn't able to take care of and will be waiting when I return in two weeks.

Then there's the planning for these precious days we have off, even more precious because we have possible babysitters, meaning that we could potentially do some of those things that we can't afford to do with a sitter because they're too time consuming. But these activities have to be balanced by the time spent with those visiting. My time with them is precious, too.

But my children always pull me back to the present. Carter needs a cup of milk, a story to be read, a snack to be made. Cameron's ready for a nap, a new toy, to nurse. I am reminded that I can think and plan and worry all I want, but now is now. I need to pace myself and be present, pull my mind away from the past and future, into what's happening around me.

I need to ground myself and find my rhythm, synthesize everything that's in my head into a steady beat that moves me forward, not a cacophony that scatters and spins me.

So I sit here and write in an attempt to quiet my mind, perhaps even empty some of what is in it. Writing calms me and centers me, helps me sort through my thoughts and refocus on priorities. I feel less grinding of my gears already. I am able to think and see more clearly. Deep breath. Let the holidays begin.

Winter's Here

We spent Monday evening in Cherry Creek North admiring the newly unveiled, high-ranking Christmas window displays, and then drinking hot chocolate. It was one of those magical nights where the lights are brighter, the air is crisper, and cheeks are rosier than usual. Such a spur-of-the-moment outing that will hopefully be a yearly tradition.

On Wednesday, Mark and I had the day off from work and for the sake of getting some good "couple" time in, we took the kids to daycare and headed to Lincoln Falls for some ice climbing. The weather was perfect, the ice was in, and the kids were taken care of. We got three good routes in. Tromping around in the snow and ice really made me realize that the winter spirit is here, even if not the official winter season.

I'm getting excited about digging out the Christmas decorations and transforming the house for Carter and all of our visiters that will be coming in to celebrate. I say, bring on the blizzards, bring on the snow. My arsenal of hot chocolate and comfort foods is ready and waiting.