Summer Vacation. With two kids and a car.
Long awaited, our three days of summer vacation arrived last Thursday. We had decided on the same place as last year, a nice resort/hotel in Westerly, RI. People might think this is boring idea, but those with kids will understand that once you find a place that offers so many benefits (pool and playground on hotel grounds, a short walk to the beach, yet very quiet and almost traffic-less setting) you just won't see the point of going somewhere else. Residual memory from my childless days still steers my brain into the anticipation of relaxation when thinking of a few days off. This is unfortunate as vacationing with children somehow doesn't include an "off" option. Also, it's not a coincidence we only went for three nights. As much fun as we had, it was still exhausting.
The three days were a long string of happy, sunny and sandy faces, ice cream-smeared mouths, wet sticky hair, sunscreen everywhere... all the stuff the classic summer vacation is made of. The kids were a sight to behold with their silky skin and the summer breeze in their hair running back and forth. A little bit like paradise. Only then. Our car broke down. No, not close to the hotel, not on a weekday. It broke in Newport, over an hour drive away, on a Saturday afternoon, when mechanics are resting and car rental offices are closed. It took four hours - four hours we meant to spend enjoying Newport, RI - to go from worried to alarmed to frantic back to exhausted, trying to have the car towed, finding someone to take pity and promise to look at it on Sunday and getting a rental car (a miracle!). 8 pm found us tired and starving (the kids ate a whole hamburger!) at a town beach park in Newport... watching the most incredible sunset. It was a strange day. A lot of really nice things in the midst of a totally shaky situation. I do not wish to repeat it, but can't say it was really a disaster. Obviously, that's how I feel NOW. Good for you that you didn't see me on Saturday afternoon.
The point of all this, the photos. I think we did a great job this time around (Lincoln mostly). It helps to have the perfect backdrop and the cutest subjects. (I recommend using the slideshow format.)
Posted at 09:25 AM on July 27, 2007 | Comments (2)July 14th: Thank you, JM!
It was... dreamy. Way better than I expected. The night, the summer breeze, the music, the company, the John Mayer. I haven't had such a great time in a long, long while. I think I was on somewhat of a high the week after.
Posted at 01:26 PM on July 26, 2007 | Comments (0)Stop this train
A couple of times every week, Lincoln and I download the pictures off the camera and select favorites for the kids' daily picture. As I look through the dozens of photos I relive in a few moments the previous week and always find myself thinking how incredible my children are, what a life I have... It rarely feels this romantic up close. Instead the minutes seem to drag, the whining never ends, the to-do-list is always on my mind. Looking back at the immediate past lets me get the right distance to see the things that I missed in real time. Reflection shouldn't be a luxury, it puts things into the right perspective. It always seems to escape me though. Why? Why is life this way? Damn you, productivity.
I had the rarest of opportunities today to have lunch by myself. Granted, it lasted about 15 minutes - of course I was in the middle of an errand-to-do-list while a friend watched the kids - but it was such a relief. Naturally my mind wandered back to Noni and Ivan and all the things we do, but it was a free flow of thoughts... again, reflecting a little, getting that perspective back. When it comes to my children I always remember not to overwhelm them, to let them have that free time where they can explore and play without being urged in any direction. With me - I don't, or at least I tell myself it would be wiser to catch up on some work instead.
The steady flow of pictures serves as a diary of sorts. I was never much of a diary writer. What a drag, rewriting the events of the day. I see the benefits though. I can't process things properly as they are happening, I need to step away from the action and let the distance show me the big picture.
Posted at 11:09 PM on July 11, 2007 | Comments (1)Worth it
Why is it that every time you mention how kids are tiring or how hard it is to raise them, someone will always end up saying "Oh but it's so worth it!". As if it has to be said out loud lest someone should think we don't love our children... because you know, if it's really that HARD we wouldn't have them, right? I used to try to explain myself, sure I must have been misunderstood. Now I get annoyed and change the subject, because really, how irrelevant is that remark? I especially don't appreciate it if someone says it to me, almost like trying to make excuses for my negative comments.
Only my comments were not negative regarding my children, my comments were negative regarding the challenges and subsequent exhaustion taking care of children will create. This distinction somehow is lost on most people, because what is implied in the above comment is that things should not be hard, especially not things we have "control" over (another topic for itself). There is that component of ... "maybe you shouldn't have had children then if you are not enjoying it that much." Funny how you don't hear these comments when it comes to job related problems. How many times have you heard a person complain about their job and the another insist on saying "Oh, but it's all worth it in the end!" Well, duh. That was not the point. Of course it's worth it, you make a living, you have a place to live, food to eat. Everyone understands that, just complain away! You don't enjoy studying for your exams? Did anyone tell you "Oh, maybe you should quit studying, you know, if it's THAT hard." or "Maybe you should quit trying to become a doctor... if you really dislike staying up all night." Maybe I missed something and it's true that only those people who truly enjoy staying awake for 24 hours work in hospitals.
This way of thinking bothers me. Not only does it put incredible pressure on parents: "Look happy! Enjoy parenting all the time!", but their satisfaction is seen as the measure of love for their children, which must be directly related to the children's value. How much are children worth? This much work or this much fun? Depending on that we wil decide if they should be around and how many. What is this? How do we put value on human beings? The conversation stops for me right there - when I feel I need to justify the existence of my children, because apparently they do not make me happy enough to be worth having. I exaggerate? Perhaps. I'm not way off though. It is not uncommon practice to view other people's worth only in relation to what use they are to us and our needs.
When I had Veronika I felt the cold breeze of loneliness, not just in the traditional sense, but also in the sense of having done this to myself. We wanted a child and here it is, my own business, nobody else's. If I find it hard, if I am searching for answers... I should've thought about that before. You know, there's a way to prevent "that" and if we didn't, we have to deal with "it" ourselves. As if. As if new human beings are not everybody's business.
What are the options for a mother - drown herself in the silly details of babylife and love every minute of it because that means it was worth it? But if that doesn't work where can you go to find the spiritual strength to bear the minutes you don't love? How do you become (or continue to be) the person your children need you to be? I joined the moms groups, I heard the playground chatter, the waiting room exchanges. Nobody talks about that. We talk about gear, real estate and a little child development. We can dumb ourselves down and just go with the precut image of the suburban mom, doing what the script suggests. The childen-having-part - apparently unrelated to things like vocation, wanting to make a difference in the world (It's not JUST about recycling!), wanting to be of service or finding meaning.
I don't need it easy. I wish for it sometimes, but I don't really want it. I don't mind it hard, but I do wish for help, for motivation, for support. I'm not talking about better gear though, or just relief from a babysitter (although, you know, to that I will never object.), I'm talking about being taken seriously, needing some mental and emotional nourishment to be able to give it back to these new people, who are either going to make people happy or very unhappy one day, depending on what I did and who I was, whether I had fun or not.
It is popular to say this, but it fits: It's all about fun these days. But really, how much fun can you have? It comes and goes, mostly it goes. You then try to escape... and arrive in the picture-perfect-picket-fence suburban existence, the kind of stuff depressing movies are made of (Little children, American Beauty, The Ice Strom, etc.). It's ironic, I'm supposed to want that, yet someone will make a movie how silly and small it all is.
It's not like I don't see that some people really mean well when they make that comment. My frustration is born out of the disregard for the real value of raising children I feel around me and this particular sentence really drives the point home, because it so neatly pushes everything aside. I want to talk about how important this is to me and how it takes my all and how to get on with it, instead I'm asked to constantly reaffirm that I'm feeling light and cheerful and happy.
I find it all unexplainable. If I have to tell you it's all worth it, you don't get it.