Familia

A man travels the world over in search of what he needs, and returns home to find it.

I think about this quote a lot when I watch Mia and Luca together. They're scrappy, these two. They're independent and vocal. They question. At times they demand. I have no doubt that they will set out to conquer their dreams one day but I hope they know their spots here will always be kept warm.

I have been thinking a lot about parenting. A blog I read commented on a NY Magazine article: http://nymag.com/news/features/67024/ The article works through the research and data that supports the notion that parenting is simply not fun for a great deal of people. It's an interesting read, and one that poses so many unanswerable questions about why this primal need to procreate becomes some people's greatest struggle once that baby is placed into their arms. In a nutshell, the article tries to break down why parenting can be so damn hard at times.

I found parts of the article fascinating and really spot on, especially the discussion of how the mechanics of parenting have shifted in these last several decades to become a sport. While parenting used to be, and should be in my opinion, a lovely adventure full of peaks and valleys, it has become an "anxious discipline in which people are constantly graded on performance" (Milton R. Saperstein).

When you are being judged, you are bound to fail at times. And failure makes people unhappy. Failure makes people feel tired. Failure makes people feel....simply failed.

A lot of people set out to fulfill that deep burning sensation to start a family, that very primal urge, in hopes that by doing so, they will be creating a safe haven, a space that will offer love unconditionally. A unit that can't hurt them, can't judge them. A loving nest that won't fail them.

But, here's the thing, even that warm space of divine bliss, that family, those sweet chubby cheeked creatures that you can't stop staring at, will break your heart.

They will fail you.

But after the sadness of a failure, comes the bright spot of a triumph, that promised rainbow after a storm. And isn't that happiness? Experiencing a range of emotions? Letting yourself be failed and allowing your child to put a tiny hand on your face in a gesture which asks for forgiveness?

So that is what I'm mulling over - whether parenting has become more challenging leaving people "to experience the joy of it, but none of the fun" or whether people's expectations of joy and fun are skewed.

I'm not going to lie to you and tell you that sitting with a group of women whose children are all playing like Stepford children while mine has a momentary breakdown and refuses to cooperate is fun. It isn't fun. More like a slow form of torture.

But those moments are fleeting. They don't happen often and they pass quickly. Most of the moments are lighter, and easier.

I just wonder when we saddled these expectations of 100% perfection on tiny shoulders and expected that to work out. I wonder why parents have pinned their happiness to the shirts of kids and expected everything to come out o.k. in the wash.

Parenting is the journey of marching uphill and coasting down. It's all of it - the good, the bad, and the really really ugly. Despite wanting it to be easy all of the time, it simply can't be.

Children can't be.

We can't be.

A bit more forgiveness in our days...forgiveness of the act of parenting, forgiveness of the children, and forgiveness of ourselves will lead to a moment of pure joy. A realization that this, indeed, is fun.

Walker Guy

Did I tell you that Luca is now officially walking? As Mia says, "He's a walker guy." I took some video of him walking at the amusement park.

Heritage Square

There is something about amusement parks that speaks to kids. The rides, the blinking lights, the slightly nauseating effect of all of it combined....they love it all. Mia was proud that she could go on a lot of rides by herself with her older and taller friends. A handful of rides required me to go on with her. I would sit next to her, watching her smile and squeal in oblivious delight. Because I worry (it's what I do almost professionally), I, of course, was convinced that every creak and crick of the old tracks on the rides were surely the last sounds I would hear. I kept quiet though and didn't mention this to Mia. I squealed and screamed along with her because you're only little once. The magic of an amusement park will surely fade but for now, it's pretty magical.

Mia

Mia wore one of my shirts from childhood today. Amazing to think that 31 years ago I was blowing bubbles and eating Popsicles, totally unaware that one day my own child would be doing the same thing.

Faults

I have this weird tendency; I tell people my faults before they can detect them for themselves. I don't know....maybe I think that by announcing my inadequacies, they will somehow be forgiven more quickly, or, viewed differently because I pointed them out first.

Mia, Luca, and I tromped into Starbucks the other day to grab a milk for Mia. I had worked out earlier and was still wearing my gym shirt, inside out, with the tag hanging out in front. I walked in - loaded down by small arms and legs - and proceeded to tell the whole cafe that I knew my shirt was on inside out. And backwards. The barista was busy steaming and frothing and foaming and didn't hear me, or didn't acknowledge the comment. I casually walked over to her and pretended to look at some mugs. Then awkwardly blurted out that my shirt was on wrong. Just so that everyone in the vicinity was clear that not only were my clothes on backward. But that I was well aware of it.

I've announced rank breath. Don't come too close. Garlic in my lunch. I've announced body odor, and the reasoning behind it. Sorry I reek. Just ran and forgot deodorant this morning. Truth be told, I find deodorant kind of annoying and often don't wear it. I've announced leaky breasts and a hemorrhoid. Hurt feelings and stray eyebrows. A zit. Grief. Scars and crows feet. Sun spots and sadness. I don't have that filter that deems some things unspeakable.

Maybe I'm not announcing these things so that they will be forgiven or looked over. Maybe I'm announcing them so they will be accepted, and embraced.

I can still hear a good friend's voice ringing in my ear every time I do it. She once told me that if I never announced my faults, maybe no one would notice them. This is true; that wonky pinky toe probably would go undetected if I didn't wiggle it in people's faces.

But, I can't stop myself. It's like a compulsion - this strong desire to unload the burden of imperfection so that I can move past a surface interaction and delve deeper. That wonky toe needs to be noticed because maybe I feel more connected somehow after sharing it. And if you accept me, flaws and all, then a real lasting relationship can evolve.

As Mia and Luca and I left the cafe, milk in tow, there was this strange sense of camaraderie. That barista who I sought out to divulge my dressing mishap told me a funny story about not buttoning her top correctly one time. And the guy behind me mentioned forgetting dress shoes for a wedding. I felt proud - like I was somehow responsible for this lighthearted exchange about the moments we've been self conscious. An otherwise silent, and seemingly normal, afternoon in a cafe turned into a somewhat intimate conversation. All of us admitting to missing the mark at one time or another.

I believe that even if people aren't out there shoulder tapping strangers to disclose personal failures and faults (like moi), everyone yearns to come out of hiding and feel accepted.

I'm seeing swimmeets in our future

Mia told me today was the day. She wanted to jump off of the diving board at the pool. She climbed the ladder and stood at the edge and thought long and hard about the decision. She ended up opting for the diving block in the lap lane. Still big stuff for a small three year old. She jumped high and swam confidently to the wall in 10 feet. Luca was more interested in digging through his bag to see what snacks we packed. His stroke isn't of concern to him yet.

Reunion

Mia had a reunion with her friend who lives in Arizona now. I told her that she may not remember Kate but that they were friends when they were both babies. Seems as if time and distance haven't hurt the friendship.

I like the way this kid rolls...

We went to the Farmer's Market this a.m. - shoeless. Not a bad life - feet up, sun shade in place, demanding to see more dogs and eat more bread.

A summer day in Colorado

We took the kids hiking today. We just wanted to be out in the middle of nowhere. Together. Mia hit the trail and never really looked back.

I like the juxtaposition of the lips tattoo and the bug. We are nothing if not contradictory. Mia cooed at this little insect on the trail. She squatted and watched ants, saw two deer, and said, "Hiking is always fun. Good idea for today."

At one point, the trail dips into a shaded area. I turned around to see a mangy fox loping toward us. He was fearless, and headed straight toward Mia who was at my side. We stood on the trail and watched him. It's that strange moment of awe and panic. Foxes are small, and seemingly weightless, but they are wild none the less. As a parent, that bizarre feeling of 'what if' kind of washes over you. He skittered past us and darted through the trees and shrubs, out of our sight. Mia whispered, "A fox." She was bold, without a trace of any worry.

I thought, are we born with anxiety or do we bear it with our children?

Regardless, the sight of that red lithe creature was beautiful.

Luca isn't quite as fun to photograph while hiking, because he sits mounted on V's back. He pointed at everything and loved the rushing water. I carried Mia on some of the return hike and the weight on our backs felt good, V and I commented. Their little legs dangled and knocked at our sides as V and I talked about trips we want to take and places we'd love to see. The tall grass tickled our thighs and I couldn't help but think that this place of ours, Colorado, is a pretty fantastic home.

A few things...

I just need to publicly thank a bestie, ABC. When we discussed the very not interesting topic of me needing to be more interesting, this is what she said, "Screw interesting. You're funny and I'll take funny any day of the week."

To that I raise a glass. To all the funny people out there, may you continue to make light of life. Because it's heavy at times, isn't it?

I also want to take a moment to publicly talk about my new crush on Sarah Vowell. I devoured Assassination Vacation and decided that smart, fiercely smart, women who are also funny (see above) and likable have to be just about the object of every human's desire.

She wrote of Lincoln (Abraham that is), "Lincoln is my favorite president - he was logical but warm, pragmatic but not without frippery, grand and human all at once."

I fell asleep that night wishing I had known Lincoln, to see him in his frippery. That tall skinny man with huge hands tied by two warring sides of a country fraught with horrible inequities. I would want to see him looking dandy. I also fell asleep wanting to walk the streets of NYC with Sarah Vowell to pick her brain about the writing process. And, truthfully, I fell asleep hoping that one day, someone will describe me just the way she described Lincoln.

Fourth of July

I'm a bicentennial baby - born 200 years after we declared our independence from Great Britain. Really the only thing very cool about that is the ease in calculating our nation's age. Mia asked me today, "How old is America?" as we set off for the bike parade - as if America were a pony tailed girlfriend of hers from preschool who was hosting a party.

234. America is exactly 200 years plus my age. (It's handy being a bicentennial baby.)

So, 234 years after a motley group of 13 colonies set out to change the course of history, we celebrated by decorating a tricycle and hanging out with friends, family, and neighbors. Our neighborhood bike parade didn't disappoint. The usual sightings....great decorations, a firetruck, funny signs (Note: Toddlers for Independence), and dogs humiliated in human red, white and blue clothing. Several BBQs later, we're all full and tired.

Mia declared this day the best day of her life before promptly marching upstairs to put on her pajamas.

A lesson in knots

V now rocks a Full Windsor. That's right...you heard me. A full Windsor. They guy actually stayed up late one night to perfect his art with the laptop next to him running a YouTube video. I used to be able to tie a half Windsor, with a nice dimple. That was back when I worked in a men's clothing store. I miss retail sometimes. I find even men's clothing inspiring. The weight of heavy fabrics, it's "hand" in retail speak. The chalk we use to mark pants and jackets. The fun of piecing together colors and textures.

I like that V appreciates all of that dorky stuff too - a proper knot in a tie, a great fitting suit. I see him taking inventory sometimes of his clothing. He isn't maniacal about it at all. More reverent. Respectful.

I remember standing as a 19 year old at the shop I worked in with a neck tie around my neck. I stood by the mirrors often when we didn't have any customers and practiced my art. I always thought the skill of tying a men's tie was a good one to have in your back pocket - like tennis.

I need to go dust off my tie tying hands and wow V with my mad talent. I think I'll learn to tie a full Windsor too. Just to prove that I can do anything a guy can do.

Snore

I had this fear today, more like a shuddering realization, that I'm simply not interesting.

At all.

I certainly don't bore myself, because, frankly, I'm easily amused. So, keeping my own attention doesn't take anything quite extraordinary. But I just might be boring to others. Well, not boring, just not very interesting.

I've been coming across people lately who do INTERESTING things. Like taking a tandem bike and riding across the country with a spouse. (Yeah....no lie) Or moving to an obscure town to pursue a job doing literary research for a famous screenwriting teacher. (Again, I'm not making this stuff up. I actually know these kinds of people.)

I'm not impressed with these people because of a silly job title or a fancy job assignment, rather their own personal pursuits that are so totally fascinating. Their quirks. Their ticks that actually make them tock.

I was divulging this deep fear of mine, of being so pedestrian and bland, to several friends today. One said, "Well, you have a great personality" in an attempt to buoy my sinking self worth. "Maybe. But that doesn't make me interesting. That just leaves me not a total snooze in conversation." The other friend sweetly offered that I'm always so engaging at parties, so very eager to hear other people's stories. "O.k. but that makes me interestED, not interestING."

I actually thought of googling "Interesting....how to achieve".

So, I'm on a quest to mix things up a bit. I do have interests, sure. I like to run. Yoga. Cook when I have time. Read. I like to talk. And think. Write. But do having interests make you interesting? Not necessarily. When I think of the people that I find interesting, I'm simply curious. I want to hear more. The curiosity piece is the important piece there I think. You have to ask questions of yourself in order to unearth that little bit of magic that leaves you wanting to know more. Wanting others to know more. I guess I've been so consumed by life that I've forgotten to be curious with myself. So, this really isn't about seeming interesting or generating curiosity in others (although let's face it, we would all love to be that girl at a party...the one everyone finds so utterly fascinating); this is about actually truly being interested in your own life. Being curious. Going out and pursuing something unexpected.

I'm not going to fling myself from an airplane or move abroad. I'm not going to begin classes in Mandarin or learn to play the flute. But I am going to push myself to be a bit more....me. It's easy to get lost in the shuffle of day to day life. I'm just going to take baby steps to find my groove. I think being authentic radiates truthfulness.

And that's interesting.