No Rest for the Weary

Some days, don't you feel like everything inside you is pleading to PARK, or at least stop for a minute and unload? 

  

Catbird Seat

A hovering hummingbird caught my eye on my morning run.  I often see them, but they flit and fly off in an instant.  This one was staying put (well, as much as a hummingbird can do), and there wasn't even any honeysuckle in sight.  Curious.  I stopped, trying not to make a sound. 

Bird still hovering. 

Slowly, I removed my iPhone from my pocket and readied the camera. 

Bird still in place. 

Click, click, click. 

Bird still here. 

Then I took a closer look.  Unbelievable.  My jaw dropped.  There was a sneaky cat, desert-colored head peaking up over the wall, eyes round and piercing.  Brings new meaning to the phrase "sitting in the catbird seat"!  I stood there for about 5 minutes, barely breathing.  That hummingbird flitted all around the cat (high on its wall-perch), coming several times within paw's reach.  But the cat just watched. 

As I look at the photos I captured (this one, for example), I have to wonder whether the cat was more interested in the hummingbird, or ME?  A bit creepy, but I love this shot -- cat with eyes locked on me.  Hummingbird flitting teasingly in cat's peripheral vision.  Where do I even start with the metaphors here!!

Forming Them in Our Own Images (and then realizing it's futile)

Athena "born" from Zeus's forehead

I've been thinking lately (for about the past 8 1/2 years) about the seeming futility of trying to shape my children into the beings I'd like them to be.  Back when I was a psychology minor in undergrad (years and years before children), I really thought nurture must have more muscle than nature.  But parenting has convinced me otherwise.  When it comes to parenting philosophies, it's a buffet (of course).  You've got Tiger Mom over on one end, and Serenity Parenting over on the other extreme.  Like me, you probably dine somewhere in the middle.

But what does astound me over and over again is how pre-formed my children seem to have come.  Like little Athenas leaping fully formed from the head of Zeus ("fully grown and armed, with a shout— "and pealed to the broad sky her clarion cry of war.")  Although you can provide a good example and provide positive reinforcement for behaviors you want to encourage (and you should), each child is who she is from the start.  I see this in my own children as I go to battle with one child to fight against her natural tendency to accept mediocrity, and then stand back and watch as another one of my children does what she calls "fake homework" (non-required work she prints off the internet to complete in her spare time) because it's "fun."  That had to have come  programmed in the genes, I tell you.

None of this is to say you can't make a difference as a parent.  I had a long (and I think productive) talk with my "middle-of-the-pack-is-good" leaning daughter several days ago when we (amazingly) found ourselves alone in the kitchen.  (I do believe the only way this occurred is that the other two must have been in time out at the same time.)  I explained to her that the most successful people in life very often are not the ones who are so smart that everything is a piece of cake.  In every class (and other life circumstance), there will be that person who finishes her work lickety-split and sits legs crossed, arms-smugly-folded, surveying the rest of the class with a self-satisfied smile.  In my humble opinion, it's the ones who have to work hard who have the best shot in life.  I explained to her that I have always known in my heart that I'm rarely the smartest or best in any situation, but I also know that I have a secret weapon:  I outwork and out-try and out-persevere.  I have to say that I think a light bulb flickered on for her during this conversation.  She understood me.  And that made me happy.

On the topic of nature vs. nurture, here's an extreme situation that sure makes for a great book.  I'm currently reading a memoir called The Glass Castle by Jeannette Walls.  What can I say about the abysmal parenting described in this book other than WOW, just WOW.  It's a terrific book and provides an astounding example of a child who lived through an unbelievably trying childhood to rise from the ashes into something amazing.  Definitely worth a read.

I'm also currently reading See Jane Win by Sylvia Rimm on how 1,000 girls became successful women.  I would highly recommend this read as well -- particularly if you have daughters.  So what are the best practices for raising confident, happy and successful daughters?  what do successful women share in terms of childhood influences?  The women studied in the book are actually a pretty diverse group, but here are some of the (interesting to me) recommended guidelines:

1.  Set high educational expectations for your daughters and don't be quick to back off if your daughters have to cope with pressure.
2.  Help your daughters to understand that they don't need to be the smartest to feel smart.  Help them to understand that studying pays off.
3.  View your daughters as intelligent, good thinkers, and problem solvers.  Value work, and be positive about your own work.  Have family work projects.
4.  Encourage your daughters to develop math and science skills (even if it has never been your personal strong suit).  Also make reading a very high priority.  Girls who are truly interested in learning have a better chance of success.
5.  Encourage your daughters to enter competitions.  Girls sometimes avoid competitive activities unless they are certain they'll be winners, but while winning builds confidence, losing is valuable too; it builds character.
6.  Travel as a family.
7.  Let your daughters know that popularity is not important, even if it feels important to them.  Be careful to avoid pressuring them to have lots of friends.
8.  You are your daughters' best supporters.  Remind them you're their ally and definitely not their enemy.  Be a coach, not a judge.  Set firm limits.
9.  Be sure that your daughters get leadership opportunities and responsibilities regardless of birth order.
10.  As mothers, don't hesitate about fulfilling your own life dreams by returning to school or entering a career.  Your daughters are watching you.  If you achieve, they see you as competent and are more likely to believe that they, too, can be competent.

All of these strike me as sound pieces of advice.  Maybe "serenity parenting" economist-dad Bryan Caplan is right and we should all relax and just enjoy our children more.  Or perhaps Tiger Mom Amy Chua is right and we need to challenge our children in more intense ways to meet their potential.  As for me (spread-too-thin-and-stressed-out mom), I'm going for a hybrid approach.  And perhaps everything will turn out alright.

Wednesday's Word -- Diet

Lose It!

Why is that when I stop exercising, I come to a COMPLETE halt?  Why is it that when I make bad food choices, I go WHOLE HOG (well, not actually, because I'm a vegetarian after all)?

Well today I have the word "diet" on my mind because as much as I completely revolt against budgeting of any kind (whether dietary or financial), I'm not enjoying the extra few pounds that have crept up on me in the past few weeks.  Note that I just finished a pack of peanut M&Ms while typing this.  Admitting you have a problem is the first step, right?

I don't mean to suggest that I have a weight problem, but I do have a go-to-extreme problem.  And right now I am on the extreme end of the spectrum inhabited by people who blog while eating M&Ms and skip their morning runs for going on three weeks straight.

So here's the word.

Diet means "the usual food and drink of a person or animal."  (In my case, peanut M&Ms, vegetarian sushi rolls, and cheetos.)  It also means "to eat or drink according to a regulated system."  (In my case, to stop eating all of the above, except the sushi rolls, drink a whole lot more water, and stop acting as the garbage disposal for my children's leftovers.)  "Diet" actually comes from a root meaning "to live one's life."  (In my case, I better get back to living my life according to the usual rules.)

When I was younger (before we had computers, or at least before we used them for anything other than playing Lemonade Stand and The Oregon Trail), I used to keep a journal of foods I ate (my own particular neuroses are outside the scope of this post . . . .).  Now, technology lends all sorts of help.  One little application that really works for me is Lose It!  Have you tried that one?  It helps you track your goals, food intake and exercise.  I've never used it for anything more than losing a few pounds here or there post-baby (or post complete derailment of all that is healthy and good for my body), but I imagine it would be effective even for long-term weight loss.  If you need a little kickstart and accountability, you might give it a try.

{P.S., While randomly and wistfully checking the FedEx package tracking for my iPad 2, I saw that it was actually (somehow!) to be delivered today.  That gadget made good time from Anchorage!  Well, I high-tailed home to be there to sign for it.  Wow did it help motivate my 2nd grader to study for her math test on the way home from school (with an application called MathBoard).  After I reclaim the thing from my three kids who are on 15 minute rotations ala the kitchen timer, I'll load up the Lose It app so I can stop the insanity.}

Mission Impossible

I'm working on a potentially brain-stupor-inducing training presentation for client employees and looking for ways to spice it up.  As you know, I love a good metaphor more than just about anyone.  How's this to introduce the potential perils of tricky settlement negotiations? 

This clip originally comes from an old BBC documentary called Daylight Robbery (from the 1990s), but here it is being used by a beer company.  Not sure what lager has to do with the squirrel's amazing abilities, but that's a beer commercial for you . . . .

Tiger Mom vs. Lamb Mom

Found this and this pretty fascinating, given the struggles I already have with my three headstrong children (8, 6, and 2 1/2).  The 8-year-old, in particular, tends to push me to my limit.  I'm not proud to admit that last night (completely drained by the battle over homework) I actually resorted to telling her "you're never going to be successful in life if you spell tractor 'tracter'."

Who knows what actually works.  To some extent, it gets back to the whole nuture vs. nature thing, don't you think?  Some children will achieve because it's just IN them.  I threaten to let my oldest sink or swim and deal with the consequences, but I don't have the guts to actually follow through on the threat.  How about you?

To Strive, to Seek, to Find, and Not to Yield

 The night is not young, and I have much to accomplish before I sleep.  So let me be brief.  Aren't these road-crossing caterpillar mobs something?  They appeared yesterday morning and spent the day crossing an extremely busy road near my house in droves -- inexplicably pushing towards some unknown goal.  This morning on my way to work, they were still crossing, although in diminishing numbers.

I can't stop puzzling over them.  I have lived here for well over a decade now and have never observed such behavior.  They are crossing from the Indian Reservation side to the Phoenix suburb side.  I keep asking people who live near me, "have you seen the caterpillars?"  "Do you have any idea why they're crossing?"

No one seems to find this curiosity as curious as I do.  And no one seems to care about whether they make it.  And me, I'm the crazy lady who's driving about 5 MPH in a 50 MPH zone, trying not to run over the little guys and hoping they do make it -- wherever and whyever they're going.  

So in honor of the little guys, I've had these lines from Alfred Lord Tennyson's "Ulysses" in my head all day:

'Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths of all western stars, until I die.
. . .
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

Them Bones, Them Bones, Them Vegetable-Made Bones

Oh the things you can learn about me by reading my bulletin board.  This old favorite made me smile today as I jerk my lumbering plow along in spite of every obstacle.

Keep plodding!

Nifty Items I'm Eyeing and Would Like to Be Buying

Still in Seattle, but here are some things that caught my eye this week.

1.  This Kirie mini bamboo clock from Decoy Lab.

2.  When Did I Get Like This?  The Screamer, the Worrier, the Dinosaur-Chicken-Nugget-Buyer, and Other Mothers I Swore I'd Never Be, by Amy Wilson.

3.  Cute Korean-inspired dresses with leggings from Tea.

Have a great weekend!

Wednesday's Word -- Slog

Isn't the word "slog" fun to say?  I look for (and find) opportunities to use it just because.  Slog is kind of a grumpy word, so apply it sparingly.  But on certain days, it just works.  

Slog

The verb "slog" means to walk slowly, encountering resistance.  To walk heavily and firmly, as when weary, or through mud.  It can also be used to mean to work slowly and deliberately (overcoming significant boredom), or to strike something with a heavy blow.  All of these meanings please me.  If you like (and I do like), you can even say slogs, slogging or slogged.


Although I have never used "slog" as a noun, I think I might try.  To the British, "slog" apparently can mean a long tedious walk or session of work.  As in: "So how was your day, honey?"  "It was a slog."  I also just learned that in the game of cricket, a "slog" is an aggressive shot played with little skill.  Many of my days could accurately be described as such.

The origin of the word "slog" is unknown, but some dictionaries suggest that it may be related to "slug(2)," which means to strike hard or to push onward, especially through mud, snow or other obstacles; trudge.  Although there's no real etymological link, I also like the definition of "slug(1)," which is any various snaillike terrestrial gastropod mollusks having no shell or only a rudimentary one, feeding on plants, and often a pest of leafy garden crops.  That's an apt description of how I sometimes feel on my sloggiest days.  Is sloggiest a word?  Oh, why not. 

Amazing Yourself

On a very regular basis, I have to think of a way to respond to the well-intended comment "I just don't know how you do it all!"  This comment, or some variant of it, is usually intended as a compliment, but the cold hard truth is that I don't.  Granted, I have a crazy, busy life.  But time is a finite resource.  You can't manufacture more.  You can sleep less and multitask more.  You can skip meals, eliminate television.  You can even delegate some of your tasks to someone else.

But I am here to tell you that no one does "it all."  My response to the comment is typically some self-deprecating assurance that I'm actually not so amazing.  Actually quite ordinary.  Sometimes quite deficient.  As T.S. Eliot put it:

I am no prophet — and here's no great matter;
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
. . . 
No!  I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To swell a progress, start a scene or two,
Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,
Deferential, glad to be of use,
Politic, cautious, and meticulous;
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous—
Almost, at times, the Fool.

One day this week, I had a business lunch with two successful women.  As is par for the course of my life, both expressed awe at my ability to "do it all."  Neither woman currently has children and both exclaimed that they struggle to keep their own lives in check and couldn't imagine managing a three-ring-circus of a life like mine.  My response this time was simply:  You might be surprised at your own capacity.  You can do so much more than you think you can.

I have been enjoying the Winter Olympics.  Have you too?  The other night, I watched Shaun White blast off the top of the halfpipe like a rocket headed into orbit, only to race back towards the earth and straight into a mind-blowing contortion of twists and rolls.  

I stared in slack-jawed awe at the wonder that such a feat is even possible.  That a human being should have such capacity!  Watching that display, I couldn't help but think about my own capacity--and the capacity of each and every person--for the amazing.   

I like the way C.S. Lewis expressed it:

"It is a serious thing to live in a society of possible gods and goddesses, to remember that the dullest and most uninteresting person you talk to may one day be a creature which, if you saw it now, you would be strongly tempted to worship . . . .  It is in the light of these overwhelming possibilities, it is with the awe and the circumspection proper to them, that we should conduct all our dealings with one another, all friendships, all loves, all play, all politics. There are no 'ordinary' people. You have never talked to a mere mortal. . . .   [I]t is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub and exploit." 

It is true that I am no prophet, nor even a Hamlet.  I will likely never compete in the Olympics or disturb the universe in any cosmic way, but I can amaze myself by stretching beyond my own perceived possibilities.  (You can too.)


Post Script:  The beginning of this post makes me think of a book that I quite enjoyed.  I Don't Know How She Does It by Allison Pearson.  

Wednesday's Word -- Procrastinate

Procrastination is a plague.  But it is also a powerful catalyst that I try to make the most of, because I can't seem to rid myself of the habit.  So here are some thoughts about the word.

procrastinate

I found one dictionary that defines procrastination to mean:  "The act of postponing, delaying or putting off, especially out of habitual carelessness or laziness."  I suppose that's a fair description of me at times.  According to Wikipedia, there are three criteria for behavior to be classified as procrastination:  it must be counterproductive, needless, and delaying.  In my case, procrastination is usually needless and delaying, but not entirely counterproductive.  Although procrastination results in suffering, it also creates a powerful period of intensely focused productivity when I reach the point at which I must get the thing done.

The word "procrastinate" comes from the Latin, meaning "tomorrow," although it has three parts that are somewhat redundant. The prefix "pro" means forward.  The second syllable "cras" means tomorrow and the third syllable "tinate" means belonging.  So, it means put it off until tomorrow.  Assigning a task to "tomorrow."  Laundry, you "belong" to tomorrow, and so forth.

I seem to have Frog and Toad on the brain this week, but I can't resist sharing another favorite story.  This time from Arnold Lobel's Days With Frog and Toad.  It makes the point.

Tomorrow

Toad woke up.  "Drat!" he said.  "This house is a mess.  I have so much work to do."  Frog looked through the window.  "Toad, you are right," said Frog.  "It is a mess."  Toad pulled the covers over his head.

"I will do it tomorrow," said Toad.  "Today I will take life easy."  Frog came into the house. "Toad," said Frog, "your pants and jacket are lying on the floor."  "Tomorrow," said Toad from under the covers.  "Your kitchen sink is filled with dirty dishes," said Frog.  "Tomorrow," said Toad.  "There is dust on your chairs."  "Tomorrow," said Toad.  "Your windows need scrubbing," said Frog.  "Your plants need watering."  "Tomorrow!" cried Toad.  "I will do it all tomorrow!"  

Toad sat on the edge of his bed.  "Blah," said Toad.  "I feel down in the dumps."  "Why?" asked Frog.  "I am thinking about tomorrow," said Toad.  "I am thinking about all of the many things that I will have to do."  "Yes," said Frog, "tomorrow will be a very hard day for you."

 "But Frog," said Toad, "if I pick up my pants and jacket right now, then I will not have to pick them up tomorrow, will I?"  "No," said Frog.  "You will not have to."  Toad picked up his clothes.  He put them in the closet.  "Frog," said Toad, "if I wash my dishes right now, then I will not have to wash them tomorrow, will I?"  "No," said Frog.  "You will not have to." Toad washed and dried his dishes.  He put them in the cupboard.

"Frog," said Toad, "if I dust my chairs and scrub my windows and water my plants right now, then I will not have to do it tomorrow, will I?"  "No," said Frog.  "You will not have to do any of it."  Toad dusted his chairs.  He scrubbed his windows.  He watered his plants.  

"There," said Toad.  "Now I feel better.  I am not in the dumps anymore."  "Why?" asked Frog. Because I have done all that work," said Toad.  "Now I can save tomorrow for something that I really want to do."  "What is that?" asked Frog.  "Tomorrow," said Toad, "I can just take life easy."  Toad went back to bed.  He pulled the covers over his head and fell asleep.  

I just love this story.  But unlike Toad, my problem is that even if I do today what could be put off for tomorrow, additional tasks will be looming over me tomorrow anyway.  I'd love to "save tomorrow for something that I really want to do," but the forces in my life (work, children, etc., etc.) have other plans for me.

What would you do tomorrow if you could spend it doing something that you "really want to do"?  I'd stay in bed like Toad!