6 ways to get out of a rut (none of which involve a tow truck)

It's mud season in my home state of Vermont, and the term getting out of rut is taken pretty literally right now. Especially after this winter.

image courtesy of www.subaruoutback.org

 To most people, however, that rut isn't a muddy dirt road, it's the feeling we get when life gets boring. "Same ol', same ol'," "Daily grind," etc. It happens to the best of us. (Well I can't speak for the whole world, but I'd say it happens to all of us.) How do we get out of the rut? What do we do when life is boring? When it's the same thing day in and day out?

1. Start a gratitude journal. Or, if that is too touchy-feely for you, every night before you turn the light out, jot down on a scrap of paper three good things that happened. The idea is to make an effort to recognize the good things that are happening in life, even if life doesn't feel so great.
2. Take one thing that you do every day and do it differently, perhaps even better. The easiest way for me to make my day a little better is through food. I cook a special dinner, bake a loaf of bread, or make a dessert. It makes a regular Tuesday a little more interesting.
3. Get some loving. From a simple hug to something a little more x-rated. Get some love into your life. Human touch has proven health benefits like releasing oxytocin and dopamine.
4. Move! But make it fun. If you love the gym and it makes you happy, go there. But if "working out" is a chore, do something different. Put on some music and dance. Go for a bike ride. Find a kid and play tag. Find a dog and toss the frisbee with it. A little bit of exercise and movement and, most importantly, play will lift spirits.
   

   

   I don't know what this "sport" is called, but these adults were having a blast playing on a Saturday afternoon.

5. Be spontaneous. Instead of driving straight home from work or from picking the kids up at school, go somewhere. Go out for pizza. Stop at the deli and pick up sandwiches and have an impromptu picnic dinner. Call a friend you haven't seen for weeks, or days, and meet for a drink or a walk.

   

   An impromptu trip to a beachside hotel let this boat kid jump on the bed. Something she's only had the chance to do a few times in her life and which she thoroughly loved. The joy that resulted from our spontaneity!

6. Think of a more sustaining way to keep from slipping into "same ol', same ol'." Brainstorm a list of things you like to do, or things you wish you could do more often and make an effort to do them. (Practical things. I love snorkeling over coral reefs, but since I don't live near any crystal clear, tropical water, that's not possible. I'll keep that off the list.) 

I feel like getting stuck in a rut is such an easy thing to do. We go through the daily motions of life - doing what is necessary (eating, working, cleaning, sleeping) and what is easy (Facebook, TV) and we forget to take a break from the necessary and the easy to do what we like. There is a little effort involved, but by acknowledging that the rut exists, and that, yes, life can be boring sometimes, will help you get out of that rut, wipe the mud off, and start making daily and weekly life more interesting, more fun, and more inspiring.

Basking in the sun

A blustery day at the beach.

There was a flurry of activity and then it stopped. I haven't been writing recently and I've stopped obsessively checking my book sale stats on Amazon and Create Space. I guess I'm following my own advice. I'm starting to live more in the here and now, in the actual real present. Instead of writing about what I'm doing and researching things to do on Pinterest, I'm just doing stuff. It helps that the weather is awesome and I'm outside for hours every day. When it's in the upper 70s and low 80s every day and not too humid, it's hard to stay inside and sit in front of the computer.

We took a day trip to Savannah, GA and enjoyed the gorgeous spring flowers.

Instead I'm working on boat projects like renewing the varnish, brainstorming a massive canvas job, and scrubbing the pollen off the decks. We're going to the playground and the pool; and the girls are learning to ride their balance bikes. Best of all, our dock neighbors are doing the same and our end of the marina has become quite a social place.



I've let go of my need (assumed or real) to write every day and I'm enjoying the spring weather and my time with my girls. I have 101 different things to write about but, for now, my writing is seasonal in nature. I'm sure that I'm just out of practice and I'd truly enjoy sitting down every day and typing at my computer, but, honestly, it's pretty nice to read a book on the back deck or do something productive on the boat. It's just too nice outside! I've gotten my book off my computer and out into the real world, I've assessed my options for my life (work full-time in an office or stay at home with the girls) and I've realized that the status quo is rather good.

So for now I'm giving myself a sabbatical from writing and I'm enjoying each day as it comes. This is entirely new for me as I'm always looking toward the horizon and the next harbor, so we'll see how long it lasts.

A new year's resolutions, +31 days

(Let me preface this by saying that I am a Type A person in many aspects. I love lists. I love writing things down and coming up with plans. I love being organized. If you don't, then this kind of intentional life improvement, for lack of a more sexy term, may not be for you.)

Image courtesy of Stephen Halpin

New Year's resolutions - the February 1 update

31 days ago was the big day for dreaming up and writing down resolutions. Today is February 1st, seems like a good day to check in. Did you write resolutions? Are you on track to sticking to them? Every year on January 1 when the new year rolls, we have the tendency to feel refreshed and inspired. Some people set forth minor goals like recycling more, while others tend toward the more grandiose like losing weight or quitting smoking. My goals are...unwritten (at least on pen and paper. I typed a little about this a couple weeks ago). We have a little red book where I like to write down our favorite memories from the previous year and resolutions and goals for the upcoming year. It's February 1st and we just haven't gotten to it. (I also haven't gotten around to sending out thank you cards for Christmas presents, but that's a whole 'nother story. I have a pipe dream of sending out Valentine's cards, but, at the rate I'm going, those may not arrive in people's mailboxes till April.) But let's pretend that my goals are written down. And let's pretend yours are too. It's so easy to let that new year excitement dwindle away till you forget the commitments you made for the new year. So, in the spirit of resolutions, let's resolve to check in on the first of every month. Pull out that red book or the sticky note where you scribbled down your goal. Are you on track?

Smaller time frame, smaller resolutions

So maybe, like me, you haven't specifically written down your resolutions. Or maybe you feel so daunted by the prospect of sticking to one big goal all year that you simply skipped it this year. Here's another idea: monthly resolutions. Even weekly resolutions. Bite off a little at a time. Narrow your focus. It can be simple: I'll read the newspaper once a week. Or, I'll go for a run once a week. On March 1 I'll check in again. Did I work on that goal? How did it go? And then I'll make a new one.

Taking stock of the important stuff

This very tangible way of "taking stock" of what is working in our lives helps push us toward the intentional life. It's easy to swing on the pendulum. To go from day to day and then suddenly the year is over...to....over-thinking, over-analyzing, basically being too introspective. So my idea is to focus on one goal per month, put it in the back of my mind and then reassess after 30 days. I'll be tuned into a specific goal but, at the same time, I'll be living my day-to-day life.

Here's to February Resolutions. I'll be back in touch on March 1.

Oh yeah...my February Resolution: be more patient with my eldest kid at bedtime.

A dream come true

s/v Whisper at anchor in Salt Whistle Bay, Mayreau, The Grenadines

This photo is so much more to me than just a beautiful tropical beach photo. In the years preceding our sailing trip, we worked and worked, both at our paid jobs and on the boat. Saving money and preparing the boat for the voyage. We were in Washington, DC and my first job was as an assistant to an attorney who represented oil companies. Nope, I wasn't saving the world friends. My "office" was a partitioned cubicle in the middle of the firm's office with no windows. Just the charming gray felt board that is the ubiquitous cubicle wall. I filed documents, I reorganized all the cases and the filing system, I typed up hand written notes and briefs. I edited. I made phone calls. I answered the phone. Are you asleep yet? Because I was. What kept me going? My daily workout at the gym, a good friend who worked in the same office, and a photo. Tacked up to that gray felt board was a photo, very similar to the one I took off Whisper's bow, years later. I had ripped it out of a magazine, it was a photo off someone else's boat, someone else's bow, of a tropical island, somewhere. I knew that someday we were going to sail our own boat to that tropical island.

We did, and I have the picture to prove it.

I'm not surrounded by gray felt board anymore (thank God), but I am beginning to feel the same feelings of waiting. We're in-between. We're waiting for the next big thing. We're biding our time while Hans gets his skills and knowledge down pat. We know that something bigger and something better is around the corner, we're just not there yet. So we do what we did when we lived in DC: we make the best of the time we have now, because, yes, now is really, really good.

Christmas afloat

It's a little different than on land

A floating Christmas. It can be challenging. Yes, we sing the same carols and we eat ham and mashed potatoes, but getting the visible, tangible Christmas spirit can be challenging. We don't have a tupperware box in the attic filled with lengths of tangled lights or stacks of red bows to festoon the outside of the boat. Since we have no storage space, all of our possessions are items we use on a regular basis. A singing Santa just has nowhere to live on the boat in February or July. So we have to be creative.

A few ornaments hanging above the galley table.



A green wreath decorating the stern.

Homemade paperchains.

Christmas songs streaming from Pandora.

Advent calendars.

Gingerbread houses.

A pathetic string of Christmas lights with only half alight since I found them in a locker filled with water. (Sigh. Boat living.)

And food. (Of course.) Egg nog, hot buttered rum, peppermint hot chocolate. Gingerbread. Pepparkakor. Lussebullar.

When it comes to decorating our floating home for Christmas, we have to think in the here and now. We don't have many heirloom ornaments or beloved decorations (well, we have a few), but spending time baking and crafting for Christmas helps put me in the Christmas spirit.

Studding Florida tangerines with cloves.  Matilda "helped" by dumping the cloves out and putting them back in the spice jar.

Clear space for the gifts

But what about the gifts? I actively spend time every month or so purging excess from our boat. Clearing shelves and lockers of toys and clothes we no longer use. Christmas could be viewed as an impending nightmare for a "stuff-conscious" person like myself. Not so. I simply prepare beforehand.

A trip to Goodwill a week before Christmas helps to clear some space. Communications with family helps tremendously. Our families know that we live in a small space so they ask before gifting: what do you need? What do the girls need?

A mindful Christmas

All of these small, boat-specific preparations for Christmas more or less force us to be mindful and intentional about how we celebrate Christmas. No excess consumerism, because we have no space. No cheap plastic decorations, because we have no space. Instead we spend the holidays doing Christmas activities together - these Christmas experiences are our gifts. (Although I would love to have lights running from bow to stern and a real Christmas tree. Maybe next year...)

Intentionally ignoring Facebook

Intentionally ignoring Facebook

multi-tasking. Photo credit: Freja Eriksson

Addicted to Facebook

I am a self-professed Facebook addict. I’m also a stay-at-home-mom and I rely on Facebook throughout the day to fill those conversation gaps that a preschooler and a toddler can’t quite manage. (“What’s the deal with common core testing? What’s going to happen with this new immigration policy? And, “is it okay to drink a mimosa on a Tuesday morning while the kids watch Sesame Street?”)

Despite my dependence, I have made a vow to intentionally ignore Facebook. Why? Because I am going to intentionally recognize my present reality. I am going to make a concerted effort to live more mindfully and be more connected to the here and now.

 Long days, short years

The common meme for parents of young kids—especially those that stay at home full time—is “the days are long but the years are short.” True, but that’s little comfort at three in the afternoon after I’ve already changed five diapers, cleaned up spilled milk, and played endless rounds of Candyland—and I’ve been awake since six in the morning. The days are long. Sometimes they seem endless. It’s important to find things to do on a daily basis that are fun, make me happy, and nourish part of my soul. I’m an extrovert so, for me, that means spending time with other people.

We moved to a new city six months ago and I spent the first four months eagerly chatting to other moms in the park and reaching out to new friends. Then I plateaued. I have a handful of friends I can reach out to and we attend a weekly storytime at the library. We’re busy, but I still miss other adults and I get fed-up answering 37 why questions every day. But between nap schedules and daily household maintenance like laundry and grocery shopping, it’s hard to find time to meet up with friends for a little adult interaction that isn’t with the grocery store checkout clerk.

 Oh, hi Facebook. Will you be my friend?

So I turn to Facebook. Someone is always online and there are always new stories and articles in my newsfeed. I’ve tried reddit and Pinterest, but I always go back to the social site: Facebook. It’s like a quick hit of social interaction.

Does that commitment-free, sound-byte type of social interaction fill the gap of adult conversation that I’m missing? Yes and no. Yes, it certainly acts as a good distraction when I’m bored or frustrated or lonely. No, because it isn’t direct, in-depth human interaction; and no because it removes me from the joys and frustrations of daily life with two little ones.

The gameplan:

I have decided to intentionally ignore Facebook.
1. I’ve turned the notifications off on my phone. Those notifications make my Facebook addiction too easy.
2. I am scheduling Facebook time. At naps for 30 minutes and in the evening for 30 minutes. If I still need the easy entertainment that the internet provides, I can read the news or learn new ways to macrame a hanging plant holder on Pinterest.
3. I am going to stop thinking and looking at the world through a Facebook lens: no more quipping pithy status updates in my head while I push my toddler on the swing at the playground; no more taking just the right photo because it will look so great on my newsfeed.
4. I am going to continue to put myself out into the mommy scene and make new friends for me and my kids.

I am going to intentionally recognize my reality. I am going to be present. I still need you Facebook, but I really need to see other people too.

Raising boat kids

The view out our back door.

These are some of the responses I get when I tell people we live on our boat with two little kids:

"How do you do it?"

"You're such a trooper."

"You're a saint."

"You live on a...?"

"Fascinating!"

"So...where does everyone sleep?"

"What do you do about toys?"

It is so hard to explain that my life is not much different from a landlubber's life. I have the words. I have 101 different ways to say that my life is similar to any stay-at-home-mom's, but it's hard to explain it. I say things like:

"It's like living in micro."

"We basically live in a small apartment, that floats."

"We have two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a kitchen, a dining room, a living room, and a back deck."

"It's no harder than living in a third floor walk-up in the city."

"You should see the pool."

"We have less stuff. We go outdoors a lot."

"The girls are little, they don't need big spaces."

Small girls play in small spaces.
This is the "kid space" - a corner of the main cabin that is designated as "kid only."

An impromptu reading nook, about 2 feet x 2 feet. Perfect for 2 small girls.

But even when people come over to the boat and see the space and the layout for themselves, they still shake their heads and say: "I don't know how you do it. I know that I never could."

Since I'm living out of the mainstream, I rarely walk into the mainstream - into someone's house or apartment - and shake my head and say: "I don't know how you do it. I know that I never could." (Which, don't get me wrong, is a totally understandable and fine thing to say. I absolutely don't take offense at all.) But what I want to say when I'm in a house is:

"Oh my word. There is a lot of stuff to clean."

"Wow. We'll have to buy a lot of furniture if we ever move ashore."

"What is in all these cabinets in the galley-I mean, kitchen?!"

"How long does it take to clean the whole house?" (Seriously, the idea of cleaning a whole house is daunting.)

"A full-size washer and dryer, steps away from the bedroom?!"

"How exactly do you start up a lawnmower?"

I drool over the counter space and the dishwasher. I love putting one girl down for a nap and not having to keep everyone else quiet so as not to wake her. I love watching the girls run around like crazy.

Living in a boat at a marina is a lot like living in a third story condo without an elevator. We have to schlep groceries from the car, down the dock, and up into the boat. I have to heave the stroller onto the boat. We have a great back deck, awesome views, and the option of going on vacation without packing a bag. We have all the amenities of living in a community with none of the work: trash, recycling, water, pool, clubhouse, barbecue areas. 

Four people living on a 36' boat. The girls have their own beds that no one else can go in without their permission; Hans and I work to give each other time and space alone. But, it's true. We are on top of each other, a lot. Sleep is difficult; it seems like someone is always waking someone else up. The girls fight over their toys, Hans never has a minute at home alone because we're always here, Matilda always seems to get her hands on things like markers and sunglasses and phones no matter how hard we try to keep that stuff away from her, the shower is tiny and only useful when I can't make it up to the marina, I wish the girls had bigger toys like a train set and an easel, I would love space in the galley to store a deep fryer and a food processor and a juicer. The small space means we have challenges and we have wants. But, overall, small isn't a bad thing. I embrace small.

Small space means: 

• less stuff
• less clutter
• less things to buy (we have no room for throw pillows, decorative vases, end tables, or knick knacks)
• more time outdoors (it's easy to get bored in a small space. The great outdoors is our living room.)
• lots of emphasis on non-toy activities for the girls: art, music, dress-up, and imaginary play like cooking are big hits

We're outdoors, a lot. Hanging out by the inlet, watching boats.
You know, because we don't get enough of that at home.

We have challenges, yes. But I'll venture a guess that living in a big, or even medium-sized house has its own, different set of challenges.

Good living.

Dreaming

Dreaming of distant horizons

When I was nearing college graduation, a number of friends were joining the Peace Corps or heading off to do a year of Fulbright Research. I took a job at a law firm. And, right now, as we have no plans to be going anywhere exotic for the next 3-7 years, the Peace Corps is looking pretty good. Except for the minor details of a husband and kids. Family Peace Corps?

I took a personality quiz* the other day. You know the kind that boil you down to a few letters: IPFJ or JPNE. Me? ENFP. Which means:

Extraversion

Intuition

Feeling

Perception

I told Hans that I’m an ENFP: 

“So I’m an ENFP. That means I’m and extroverted dreamer. I love social events and being with other people, but I also love getting to know someone and their emotions. Also, I don’t hide my emotions and I’m easily excited.” (Yeah. I don’t have a poker face.)

He almost spit out his beer, gathered his composure and said: 

“Well, I’d say that’s not all exactly wrong.”

[A little Swedish cultural lesson here: If a Swede likes a meal, especially a northern Swede, like Hans, they say something like: “I’ll be able to keep it down.” Or, “It’s not that bad.”]

The positive aspects of an ENFP: I’m a dreamer, an idealist, and a free spirit. I’ll take them.

I do spend a lot of time dreaming. I’m currently reading two books at once, not something I like to do but I can’t put either one down. The first is the account of a family’s sailing trip around the Bahamas and Caribbean and their travels in South America. The second is about a scientific expedition in Antarctica where the team purposely froze their boat into the ice and used the boat as their base to conduct research on penguins and ice floes in Antarctica in the winter. 

I can definitively say that I will not be sailing to Antarctica. I will, however, be sailing in the Bahamas again, hopefully soon.

My happy place: sailing in the crystal clear water of the Bahamas.

We’re at the dock for the next three years while Hans does his residency. He gets a few weeks of vacation each year and I’m already planning 10 weeks of vacation for the 3 that he actually is allotted. But I’m not content to dream about the vacation weeks. I’m dreaming about our future lifestyle. According to my test results, “ENFPs are fiercely independent, and much more than stability and security, they crave creativity and freedom.” Yes.

My free spirit is taking over my thoughts. Where will it take us? What adventures will we embark on? Will we circumnavigate? Hop from campground to campground in eastern Europe? Rent an apartment in a South American city for six months? 

Quito, Ecuador. Amazing geography, a beautiful historic city, and friendly people.

Add caption

I realize that I will only ever dream about expeditioning. It is doubtful that I will go on an adventure that will be physically demanding or uncomfortable. It’s not that I need or want the Ritz Carlton, but I’m more interested in people and culture than summiting the highest peaks or sailing to the most remote anchorages. 

So, nearly 15 years after college graduation, I realize that maybe I should have joined the Peace Corps after all. It certainly would fit my personality type. Seriously. Is there a Family Peace Corps?

*You can take the same quiz here. 

Think!

The daily life of a stay at home mom (SAHM) isn't all play dates at Starbucks and a long nap in the afternoon. Sure, those do happen, but more often than not I'm either cleaning, quelling temper tantrums, or rolling out playdough snakes. It's busy, and it's boring. Yes, boring.

We play games like "ring around the rosie" and sorting shells from little animals. We color with crayons and stickers are a hot commodity. 20 and 24 piece puzzles are the new challenge.

We make music,

we paint,

we wear shorts on our heads,

we have conference calls with our Aunt Angie,

and we eat. It's an action-packed life.

Sometimes I don't have time to play because I have work to do. Dishes to wash, toilets to clean, laundry to fold and put away. Sheets need to be changed. What are we having for dinner tonight?

My days are full. They're jam-packed. But I get bored. What is lacking? My job isn't what you'd call "intellectually stimulating." It's challenging, frustrating, demanding, exhausting, labor-intensive, fun, and demands an insane amount of multi-tasking, but it doesn't engage the critical thinking portion of my brain.

For awhile I thought that what I was missing was the end result you get from a professional job. I thought I needed to produce something. Something tangible, something bigger than me, something beyond the preschool crowd. I pumped a lot of energy into writing a nonfiction memoir about our sailing trip in the Caribbean.

I loved writing the book, but I loved the process more than the end result. The process: critical and analytical thinking. The kind you get when you work in a professional atmosphere where you have to write reports, organize a team, or do research. Teamwork, the back and forth exchange of ideas, compromising, expanding. Recognizing a problem or a need and tackling it to its solution. I miss the give and take and the thinking that takes place at work.

This, apparently, is my "thinking" look.
Listening to the commencement speaker at Hans's graduation, May 2014.

I don't, however, miss work. I love staying home with my girls. I don't want to change that, but I do need to expand my daily horizons so I'm feeling more personally challenged. How?

• I listen to the radio, a lot. I love news and politics so I keep abreast of what's going on in the world and in my neighborhood.
• I'm writing every day. Writing is a great way for me to organize my thoughts and expand my thoughts. Like talking with a good friend, the more I write, the more I learn about myself.
• I'm trying to write better. I'm taking my time with blog entries and I'm thinking of each one as an article as opposed to a personal journal. Complete sentences, big words (!), humor (at least I try).
• I'm reading non-fiction books. What are other people doing? How can I be inspired? 
• I'm brainstorming ways to get involved in my community through volunteer work or a part-time job.

It's so easy to get stuck in the rut of cooking, feeding, cleaning, playing, cooking, feeding, huh? What day of the week is it? I don't want to end each day feeling drained. I need to refill my own pot and, as much as I love Facebook and Pinterest, it's going to take a lot more than surfing the web to keep me inspired, engaged and fulfilled.

Redundancy

Freja keeps watch on the bow.

Boaters, especially cruisers, like redundancy. Two fuel filters, two Phillips head screwdrivers, solar panel and wind turbine, electric start engine that also has a hand crank, pressure water and foot pump. On sailboats, sails and an engine. And, as sailors cruising on a powerboat, two engines. 

Thanks goodness for redundancy. 

A couple days ago as we were nearing Charleston, SC, our starboard engine sputtered and died. We motored into our anchorage on one engine, checked the obvious (impeller, fuel filters), and, finding no obvious answers, shut the engine compartment and poured a couple stiff drinks. 

A couple hours later, Hans got the engine to start up by cleaning the battery terminals and banging, yes, literally banging, on the starter with a wrench. But it made a horrible, loud, clanking, clanging sound. We quickly shut off the engine and called a mechanic near Beaufort, SC. 

Motoring south the next day, Sunday, I only could think of the worst. Total, catastrophic engine failure. Perhaps because it was Sunday, or perhaps because I was steering the boat through beautiful, winding rivers and creeks that connected to the ocean, my thoughts became introspective. 

I wanted to pray for good news from the mechanic. I wanted to pray that it would be a simple fix that we didn’t see because we don’t know very much about gasoline engines. But I couldn’t. I’ve always been uneasy with praying for things and I’ve always been uneasy when people use the phrase “I’ve/you’ve been blessed.” I don’t think there is a God that bestows favors or grants prayers to specific people. For if that were the case, then what about all the starving children in Ethiopia? Do they not pray hard enough? Are they not blessed?

I found myself then praying for the strength and the grace to deal with whatever verdict the mechanic offered. Because that, I find, is one of the most valuable things about religion: offering a moment to stop, think, (think critically), examine, and observe, about how I can live better on this planet. I’m not necessarily praying to a single God, and I”m not necessarily praying. What I am doing, however, is taking a minute from every busy day to reflect and be introspective, and, in that regard, work towards living a better life. Is Jesus a fictional character? Is the Bible a bunch of stories? Perhaps. But these stories provide a path to follow; a leader to follow; an inspiration to live life more gently, less selfishly, and more gracefully with myself, my family, and the people around me.

A few days later and many miles of running our boat on just one engine to get to Jacksonville, and I’m feeling much calmer. The boat runs fine on one engine, perhaps we’re even saving some money on gas, and we’ll get there. 

Thank goodness for redundancy. 

An engine rebuild is not in our plans and we’ll have to revise and come up with something new once we get settled in Jacksonville, but that’s no big deal. We’re all happy and healthy. We’re still out cruising on the boat every day, anchoring in beautiful wetlands only accessible by boat; life is pretty good, even with just one functioning engine. 

Crossing our fingers that our one engine keeps on chugging as we enter the notoriously shallow and shoal-ridden waters of the Georgia ICW.

Hi shrimp boat!

Here we go, in between the green and the red with a strong moving current.
Keep on chugging port engine, keep on chugging.

Hans (and Freja) drive the boat through the channel at Jekyll Island.
Yes, that is a mud bank off our starboard side; there was an identical one to port.
It was shallow and skinny with a fast current.
Keep on chugging port engine.

Relaxing

Freja and Hans peeling fresh shrimp near Calabash, NC.
Hans bought them off the boat; they were still wiggling when we dropped them in the boiling water.

How long does it take to really relax? A lot of people say that they’re finally relaxed by the end of their one-week vacation. We left Philadelphia nine days ago and I’m still not relaxed. Not at all. Hans spread his arms out and said that on a stress scale with the fingers on his left side equalling 100% stress and the fingers on his right side equalling 0% stress, he’s made it to about 90% stress. 90% stress after nine days of being more unplugged than normal, nine days of not needing to do the regular stuff like grocery shopping, work, schedules, etc. Stress sure is pervasive. 

I should be relaxed: I keep losing track of the day of the week; I’m not dealing with my regular stressors like trying to get two small kids out the door and somewhere on time (ha ha, barely ever happens), but I’m still not relaxed. Give me ten minutes in the captain’s chair steering the boat or sitting by myself on the back deck while both girls are sleeping and I get antsy after two minutes. “Surely there’s something I must be doing….some cleaning to do...an email to write...something, something.”

But there isn’t. The only* thing we have to do is motor the boat down to Florida, keep the girls fed and floating, and keep our sanity. I have full freedom to sit on the foredeck and stare at the horizon whenever I get a spare minute. I have no phone calls to make or laundry to do. (Well, I do have laundry but no facilities, so no laundry.) Yet I’m finding it really hard to just unplug and watch the scenery.

When we were sailing on Whisper it took us a solid four months or more before we chilled out, and probably a year or so before I could wile the days away in the cockpit or on a hammock on the beach without a care in the world or thought in my head. Now the stakes are a little higher. We have two little girls whose health and well-being are our sole responsibilities. Everything we own, all our worldly possessions and investments are on our boat/are our boat. All our eggs are in one basket, so to say. So, yes, that is rather stressful. But still, I’m really hoping that by the time we get tied up at the marina in Jacksonville I’ll have spent a least a few days or more just relaxing.

*that’s a BIG only

Get a life

2006 - eight years ago. This is what a pre-kid evening looked like.

When you are the parents of two small children, is it even possible to have a life outside of the kids? Everything we do is centered around our two little ones--centered around their naps, around their activity level, around their moods. A typical Thursday night involves a quick glance at the calendar and then the weather; what should we do this weekend? We make plans with friends that have kids. Events happen pre-nap or post-nap and they often include a stop at the playground, a kids' museum, or the zoo. We're back home promptly at six, in time for dinner and bed.

Yawn.

If we want to do something non-kid related, Hans or I go out after the girls have gone to sleep, separately, while one of us stays at home. On a rare occasion we'll get a babysitter and go out together. We look with envy at blogs of people cruising with kids; always remarking that "those kids have the best life."Actually, I think we're really thinking: "those parents have the best life." The parents are doing adult things and the kids are doing kid things. Side-by-side without organizing a playdate or going to a kid friendly event. Parallel play.*

It would be nice to weave in some more organic activities on the weekend. We do, of course, have to worry about naps and bedtime. Otherwise the kids are grumpy and grumpy kids make for grumpy parents. But there's got to be some middle ground. Our lives are so segregated right now and not only is that unhealthy for us, the adults, but it isn't natural for the kids to think that daily life revolves around them. We've fallen into a rut, one that I'm afraid will persist in the future: soccer Saturdays, weekly birthday parties, pizza dinners at 5pm. You get the picture.

There has been some buzz in one of my online communities around this article in The Atlantic, The Overprotected Kid. Parenting v.2014: planned playgroups, supervised activities, classes, sports teams, "safe" playgrounds. Parenting v.1988: My mom did her thing (which, in reality, was likely cleaning, laundry, and cooking) while I played outdoors, by myself or with my siblings or neighbors. I'm aiming to give Freja and Matilda a more 1988 version of childhood (with bike helmets, please) - imagination, free play, autonomous thinking.

One of the girls' favorite winter games: "cushion mountain."
My attempt to integrate a little free, imaginative play into their daily lives.

But we live in the city and the girls are very young. That time will come. In the meantime, we'll do what we can. Go for a hike on the weekend instead of the playground. Pack a picnic for the park. Be a little more flexible on the weekends with nap and bedtime.

Last night, as Hans and I plugged into our respective computers promptly at 8PM, he looked at me and said, "we've gotta get a life." Indeed.

*Written 100% tongue-in-cheek.

Remembering

The serenity of northern Sweden

In July, 2011 I was in northern Sweden at Hans's family's summer cottage on the Baltic Sea. Freja was a new baby, we were new parents. We were happy and tired. Perhaps that explains the numb feeling I had when I heard about the horrendous mass shooting on Utoya island in Norway where 69 people were killed, mostly teenagers, and 8 more at a separate, but related, incident in Oslo. It was a shocking, appalling tragedy. Since we were in Sweden, the news coverage was intense. But I remember thinking "I should be feeling more. Why is this not upsetting me?" I don't know why. I'll blame it on lack of sleep, and maybe feeling a little removed from it since all the news coverage was in Swedish. Or maybe it was just so horrific that I couldn't grasp the depth of the tragedy.

This morning, however, I was moved when I heard a report on the radio about a proposed memorial. The artist, Jonas Dahlberg, calls his vision a "memory wound." He wants visitors to feel the loss; to have a physical feeling of loss. He said: 

"It's still almost impossible to understand [the shooting]. It's also one of the reasons why it's so important with memorials for these kinds of things. It's to maybe help a little bit to understand what was happening. So it's not just about remembering, it's also about trying to just understand — or helping to understand."

This seems so important to me. We hear of new tragedies almost every day--mass shootings and natural disasters and war--but it's really hard to understand the loss, to feel the loss. I worry that mass shootings have become so common in the U.S. that people just add each new one to a running tally. I was in college when the shooting occurred at Columbine High School. It really disturbed me and the headlines went on for days and weeks. Is that the case now? It seems like mass shootings are becoming commonplace and Americans are just resigned to that new part of our culture. Otherwise, surely we would be doing something to prevent this happening in the future. As far as I can tell, nothing has been done in terms of gun control reform or funding for mental health programs.

Jonas Dahlberg's vision for a "memory wound," what I'd also call a living memorial, is spot on.

Mindfulness

Mindfulness, being mindful, living a mindful life. It seems like a buzzword, but it's been buzzing around my head for the past few days as I'm trying to pull myself back to center.

What does it mean? For me it means paying attention to my daily life. It means not being pulled from one task to the next without stopping. It means pausing, reflecting, and thinking about what I am doing. It means completing daily tasks with meaning, instead of just going through the motions. This can also be called living intentionally.

I've been feeling stressed out recently. Not in the classic sense that I have so much to do and just no time. No. I accept that dishes will be dirty. Laundry will always be piled up. My inbox will be full, emails will remain unwrittten, and phone calls will not be returned. As a mom to two small children, I take that kind of stress for granted (which is good since it's always there). This kind of stress is something deeper. I can't put my finger on it, but I know it's there as evidenced by my lack of patience, that antsy feeling, and the state of my fingernails (I'm a nail biter). We have some stuff going on. Hans finds out his residency placement (aka our future home) on Friday and the girls both have birthdays this week, but I feel like there is something else under my skin.

I blame the weather. I blame our cramped living quarters. I blame the new nap schedules which keeps us home for a large part of the day. I blame the fact that we're moving to a new city in two months. (Big. Yes, that's big.) And then I make some resolutions.

I can try to chill out. I take a deep breath. (I say I should meditate but I don't.) I make a goal to take each day one at a time. To focus on the small moments and enjoy the giggles and laughs in between trying to get something done even if those laughs make us another five minutes late. I narrow my focus: I center my focus on my daily life and on the individual tasks and I stop trying to look at the bigger picture. I enjoy my girls and remember to cherish each moment--even if we are stuck at home a lot. I pay attention to what I am doing and appreciate my rich, happy life. I try to live intentionally.

Back in January, when I knew we had no travel plans (nothing happens in the winter anyway), I made a commitment to attend church every week. I'm not a big church-y person in the traditional sense--I don't really pray, I get a little uncomfortable talking outwardly about Jesus and God, and I'm a big believer in evolution--but I value the quiet, reflective time every Sunday morning offers me. I've missed the past four Sundays, so I returned to church this past Sunday thinking maybe my absence, or, rather, church's absence in my life, was the reason I've been feeling a little out of sorts. The sermon? All about those times that you feel scattered and lost. Come back to church, connect with a community, and get centered. Church isn't the only answer for me. It's part of it. But I know that I need to get recentered. I need to live each day a little more mindfully and enjoy the motions, instead of just go through the motions.