Maybe it is because I'm slap bang in the middle of another head cold, and my brain can barely handle something as silly as a "Real Housewives of..." episode, but I'm dance performanced out. We've got tickets to one last show, this Saturday, and they are currently up for grabs on Facebook. Free. Go see some modern dance in Baden, Switzerland. Because we aren't going to.
We've seen three performances so far, and it has been great to get so immersed in modern dance. The last one, yesterday night, La La La Human Steps' piece "New Work" was the hardest to sit through. Modern ballet, but disappointingly one-noted. Lots of fast, frenetic movements, indistinguishable dancers doing what looked like, at most, 5 different moves. Really really fast. For 80 minutes straight, no intermission. Not with a head cold, thanks. Although there was a live quartet playing music, so I think both M and I spent some of those 80 minutes with our eyes closed, resting, and just pretending it was a baroque music concert.
We also spent all of our tram and bus ride home talking about what was wrong with the performance. Ok, we spent 45 seconds listing what we liked, in an attempt to justify the ensuing butchering of the show. I think what bothered me most about it was that it seemed to most pretentious - in its lack of vulnerability, lack of variety, lack of anything that could be taken as indicative of the Greek myths it was supposed to be based on. This in contrast with the first performance by Kidd Pivot company that was full of vulnerability and explanation.
Yes, Kidd Pivot included a piece of work by Voltaire, that was narrated at least 3 times. And I got it, and enjoyed it so much more as a result. What is the point of a dance performance that the choreographer tries his best to not help you understand?
Oh, we two were full of criticism for the night. I mean, we could have watched 2+ episodes of Battlestar Galactica in that time and been home already when we were done.
Which brings me to a similar question I've been asking about academic talks. Why do people give talks at conferences? So many of them are poorly done, the speaker is nervous, the slides are incomprehensible, etc., etc. So why go? Why sit through so many hours of an activity that does not further your understanding of your field?
The fact that last night's performance by a celebrated choreographer left me feeling like I'd sat through a 3 hour set of talks on nucleosynthesis at a conference that left me bored and confused and hating the topic more than before. It also reminded me that I've heard some physicists and astronomers talk about preferring a confusing talk to one which they understood completely. That one which they could understand completely must have been at a baby level. That they would rather sit in a talk which they could just about follow the intro slide and then not understand the next 30-45 minutes.
Why? People go to talks like this, they write talks like this, and they go to dance performances like this.
I remember one conference where journalists gave reviews of panel talks
after each 4 talks, and 10 or 15 times, each reviewer asked, begged, the
audience members who had yet to give a talk to simplify their talks, to
add more definitions and explanations of the basics of their work. And
the upcoming speakers kept not complying with the journalists' requests.
Maybe I'm the last one to this party, but I'm starting to think that it is because people feel like they have had a more valuable experience when they participate at what feels like the periphery of something lofty. Maybe it makes them feel loftier. If they didn't understand most of it, imagine how much less someone else would understand! Maybe that makes people feel more important or intelligent or cultured. There must be some value in these experiences to people that keep them coming back and keep them from making even their own talks more accessible. This also means that there are cultural pressures against making lectures and talks more accessible to most people in an audience.
Because, honestly, what fraction of departmental colloquia to you think are actually at the beginning grad student level, like they are supposed to be? Or leave you feeling like you really learned something new? And if there are so few, consistently, why do people keep attending these events?
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
Imagination
You know what's awesome?
Finding a pair of fluffy hiking socks, the staple of my winter footwear, near the clean laundry mountain in my bedroom, and not being able to tell if they are clean or not. Which means of course, clean enough! Score.
I've been mooching off of car-driving friends lately to go stock up on new stuff I don't really need at IKEA. It makes my day a bit brighter, the new stuff. The trips to IKEA are just magical, let's face it, but the stuff at home, picked with the help of people whose taste I trust to aesthetically moderate mine, has refreshed the apartment a bit. The two biggest results are the bathroom and A's room.
This bedroom kitchen was a hit yesterday afternoon. So much so that in the middle of getting her coat and boots on to go out on the balcony to play after dinner, when we had to go into her room to get a hat, she remembered the kitchen and suddenly the coat and boots were off. There was some food cooking and serving left to be done.
While the restaurant is very cozy, and there is only one table available, I have to say the staff can get a bit pushy. "Nein! Warte! Heiss." ("Don't you touch that fork and spoon and try to eat/drink/whatever that dish I just put down in front of you. You better wait. It is hot. I mean it. Nope, not now either. Still hot."
Ok, so that was my imagination run wild at IKEA. But what caught me off guard last night was that as A was trying unsuccessfully to get into a small mesh bag that all her stuffed animals were able to fit in, she started complaining, crying. Frustrated. For some reason, at that moment I remembered a book my mom had bought for me as a child, about putting your parents on the ceiling. A book about imagination. Now, my daycare helped me plenty with imagination, so I never read much of the book, but it reminded me to try with A. I think I've been waiting until she's older. But I figured I'd see what happened anyway. So I went back into her room and pretended and told her that I was making her "tiny A" and once she was small in my hands, I placed her inside the bag.
I half expected she would freak out at the thought of me making her small or separating her from her physical being. Nope. She loved it. She had no problems with "tiny A", and ten minutes later as we went off for yogurt for dessert, tiny Mama, tiny Papa, and tiny Pupper joined tiny A in A's jumper pocket. What a kid.
This is going to be fun.
Finding a pair of fluffy hiking socks, the staple of my winter footwear, near the clean laundry mountain in my bedroom, and not being able to tell if they are clean or not. Which means of course, clean enough! Score.
I've been mooching off of car-driving friends lately to go stock up on new stuff I don't really need at IKEA. It makes my day a bit brighter, the new stuff. The trips to IKEA are just magical, let's face it, but the stuff at home, picked with the help of people whose taste I trust to aesthetically moderate mine, has refreshed the apartment a bit. The two biggest results are the bathroom and A's room.
 |
| Finally found somewhere to put the big rock stickers |
 |
| All the remaining live plants in the house went to the bathroom. Once summer actually comes and the sun is shining again, this will be a very calming, cool bathroom. Putting it together during the longest weeks of sunlessness...was probably a bad idea. |
 |
| And the photographic grass shower curtain got some more neutral rug friends. |
 | |
| New rug. Vrooooom. Vroom, vroom! |
 |
| The kitchen reno. Empty STUVA cabinet was waiting for drawers for over half a year. |
 |
| Who knew that once they came, it would become the hideable kitchen. Flat cardboard, drawn-on stove top is still one of the most versatile pieces of her kitchen. Once you add a real, old espresso pot, and the old spice rack, no one has time to notice the crayon hot plate. Old dishtowel got a ribbon and re-assignment as an apron. |
 |
| Taped on, bent paperclips hold the cooking utensils on one side and the oven mitt on the other. Alas, although this kitchen is easily cleaned up and put away, I have no idea where she's going to see that behavior modeled. |
While the restaurant is very cozy, and there is only one table available, I have to say the staff can get a bit pushy. "Nein! Warte! Heiss." ("Don't you touch that fork and spoon and try to eat/drink/whatever that dish I just put down in front of you. You better wait. It is hot. I mean it. Nope, not now either. Still hot."
Ok, so that was my imagination run wild at IKEA. But what caught me off guard last night was that as A was trying unsuccessfully to get into a small mesh bag that all her stuffed animals were able to fit in, she started complaining, crying. Frustrated. For some reason, at that moment I remembered a book my mom had bought for me as a child, about putting your parents on the ceiling. A book about imagination. Now, my daycare helped me plenty with imagination, so I never read much of the book, but it reminded me to try with A. I think I've been waiting until she's older. But I figured I'd see what happened anyway. So I went back into her room and pretended and told her that I was making her "tiny A" and once she was small in my hands, I placed her inside the bag.
I half expected she would freak out at the thought of me making her small or separating her from her physical being. Nope. She loved it. She had no problems with "tiny A", and ten minutes later as we went off for yogurt for dessert, tiny Mama, tiny Papa, and tiny Pupper joined tiny A in A's jumper pocket. What a kid.
This is going to be fun.
Sunday, April 15, 2012
Movement and music
I was one of the kids at Lithuanian folk dancing group that sat on the sidelines most of the time. About half of us in the group did. We weren't picked for more than one or two dances. We weren't the graceful ones. Our basic polka steps might be rough, or we forgot the choreography. I was definitely one of the ones who had a hard time remembering what part came after what other part. I'd draw a blank in the middle of a dance about which way I was turning next.
At 12 and 15 years old, even at 17 years old, I considered myself to be a pretty bad dancer.
Partner dance changed that for me. One long, boring summer I remained at college, a friend and I signed up for a ballroom dance class. The teacher was this small, fierce filipino woman, probably about 60 years old, who was pretty big on us holding our heads and arms just so during a waltz. And about the manners and politeness of dancing. She was friendly, you could see she loved dancing, but she was tough. And I loved it. I even sewed myself a dress to wear to our class outing to this beautiful old ballroom in Indianapolis, the Indiana Roof Ballroom.
I came out of that experience thinking that maybe I liked dancing, and not just watching dance. And maybe I wasn't that bad at it.
A year later, I was in Cambridge, England and joined the largest student dance club in the world. I think they had some 2000 members, and classes on anything from swing to lambada (oh yes, I danced the forbidden dance, along with some 12 other nerdy Cambridge students). I didn't get asked to dance very much at the social events, usually watching as some lead came up to look at the eyes of the woman to my right, at my neck, then the eyes of the woman on my left. But, I kept liking dancing, and I felt like I really "got" east coast swing.
I love the music, all the big band and jazz music of the early part of the last century. And the format of dancing, where a follow had to just react, instead of remember a routine, turned out to be my salvation. I have a pretty spotty memory, it turns out, which serves me just as poorly on the dance floor as in a physics exam where I have to regurgitate answers to questions I've solved on home works all semester long. But I can sure kick some ass when it comes to hearing and playing with a beat, improvising, and following.
Turns out, I'm actually a good dancer.
And over the years I've gotten more and more interested in watching dance performances. I know now that choreography is not my skill, but I love watching someone talented doing it. Mostly through modern dance and street dance. Ballet is not my thing. Neither is standard ballroom dance anymore. But tell me that the auditions for "So you think you can dance" or "America's Next Dance Crew" are on, and I'll cancel my plans to watch.
Lucky coincidence number one, my husband likes this kind of dance, too. We left a party in Cambridge, Massachusetts once to go watch the Harvard Society of Black Engineers Step Competition. Awesome. We watch movies like Drumline - also awesome. And lucky coincidence number two, some decent dance performances come through Zurich. Totally awesome.
Last night we saw Kidd Pivot doing a piece called "Dark Matters," which blew us both away. It was a powerful piece, about mortality and free will, about the universe. Sad, comforting (to me, at least, to see evidence of the thoughts that I identify with on a public stage, meaning that other people go there in their minds, too), beautiful, strong....spiritual. It was like going to a revival meeting. It left me quiet and in awe, left both of us that way, on the train trip home. And it made me think that you just can't have science without art, and vice versa. Talk about human free will, for example, and once you split off research from experience and physical musical performance, you have an incomplete treatment of the topic. You need both, to cover all of human experience. I think I just became a much more ardent supporter of the arts in education. If you keep the science and drop the art, you are missing something.
And even better, this is part of a dance festival this spring, here around Zurich. Next we go see Akram Khan's Vertical Road. Then later a new piece by this group, La La La Human Steps. Finally on the list, Conny Janssen Danst.
I am anticipating more awesome.
At 12 and 15 years old, even at 17 years old, I considered myself to be a pretty bad dancer.
Partner dance changed that for me. One long, boring summer I remained at college, a friend and I signed up for a ballroom dance class. The teacher was this small, fierce filipino woman, probably about 60 years old, who was pretty big on us holding our heads and arms just so during a waltz. And about the manners and politeness of dancing. She was friendly, you could see she loved dancing, but she was tough. And I loved it. I even sewed myself a dress to wear to our class outing to this beautiful old ballroom in Indianapolis, the Indiana Roof Ballroom.
I came out of that experience thinking that maybe I liked dancing, and not just watching dance. And maybe I wasn't that bad at it.
A year later, I was in Cambridge, England and joined the largest student dance club in the world. I think they had some 2000 members, and classes on anything from swing to lambada (oh yes, I danced the forbidden dance, along with some 12 other nerdy Cambridge students). I didn't get asked to dance very much at the social events, usually watching as some lead came up to look at the eyes of the woman to my right, at my neck, then the eyes of the woman on my left. But, I kept liking dancing, and I felt like I really "got" east coast swing.
I love the music, all the big band and jazz music of the early part of the last century. And the format of dancing, where a follow had to just react, instead of remember a routine, turned out to be my salvation. I have a pretty spotty memory, it turns out, which serves me just as poorly on the dance floor as in a physics exam where I have to regurgitate answers to questions I've solved on home works all semester long. But I can sure kick some ass when it comes to hearing and playing with a beat, improvising, and following.
Turns out, I'm actually a good dancer.
And over the years I've gotten more and more interested in watching dance performances. I know now that choreography is not my skill, but I love watching someone talented doing it. Mostly through modern dance and street dance. Ballet is not my thing. Neither is standard ballroom dance anymore. But tell me that the auditions for "So you think you can dance" or "America's Next Dance Crew" are on, and I'll cancel my plans to watch.
Lucky coincidence number one, my husband likes this kind of dance, too. We left a party in Cambridge, Massachusetts once to go watch the Harvard Society of Black Engineers Step Competition. Awesome. We watch movies like Drumline - also awesome. And lucky coincidence number two, some decent dance performances come through Zurich. Totally awesome.
Last night we saw Kidd Pivot doing a piece called "Dark Matters," which blew us both away. It was a powerful piece, about mortality and free will, about the universe. Sad, comforting (to me, at least, to see evidence of the thoughts that I identify with on a public stage, meaning that other people go there in their minds, too), beautiful, strong....spiritual. It was like going to a revival meeting. It left me quiet and in awe, left both of us that way, on the train trip home. And it made me think that you just can't have science without art, and vice versa. Talk about human free will, for example, and once you split off research from experience and physical musical performance, you have an incomplete treatment of the topic. You need both, to cover all of human experience. I think I just became a much more ardent supporter of the arts in education. If you keep the science and drop the art, you are missing something.
And even better, this is part of a dance festival this spring, here around Zurich. Next we go see Akram Khan's Vertical Road. Then later a new piece by this group, La La La Human Steps. Finally on the list, Conny Janssen Danst.
I am anticipating more awesome.
Friday, April 13, 2012
Drums
People playing drums seem to be a theme these last few days.
Last year's Eurovision (a sappy, Europe-wide singing contest that ABBA won decades ago) featured Cold Steel as filler during the counting of the votes:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W-j4yFsSbVQ
After watching this one I scrolled down to the comments.For every performance that blows the minds of one audience, others find it passe or not good enough - ah, expertise....perceived license to talk smack.
Mentioned on dooce.com, Peter Fox's new video features Cold Steel at the beginning and end:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DD0A2plMSVA
Catchy little tune.
And, surprisingly, even the Swiss seem to represent, with Top Secret, from Basel:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6neYnHAQ4Y0&feature=related
Last year's Eurovision (a sappy, Europe-wide singing contest that ABBA won decades ago) featured Cold Steel as filler during the counting of the votes:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W-j4yFsSbVQ
After watching this one I scrolled down to the comments.For every performance that blows the minds of one audience, others find it passe or not good enough - ah, expertise....perceived license to talk smack.
Mentioned on dooce.com, Peter Fox's new video features Cold Steel at the beginning and end:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DD0A2plMSVA
Catchy little tune.
And, surprisingly, even the Swiss seem to represent, with Top Secret, from Basel:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6neYnHAQ4Y0&feature=related
One of those days
Apparently I cannot italicize something in the title of a blog post. I meant to write those. See? It worked perfectly the first time here. Huh. Oh well, kind of goes along with the post.
It is one of those days. It was, even before I woke up. At the end of a dream of being disappointed by someone who told me they would proofread my writing and then didn't until later than the deadline. I woke up pissed off at that person. Or, if I'm more honest with myself (and we all know how far I can take that kind of thinking), I was hurt. By a dream about a person who has hurt me in real life, too.
This means I was in a mood this morning. Which probably quickly passed over to A. M got a healthy helping of it, too, when I brought up something he did a few days ago, which, if I had done, I think I'd have gotten a talking to from him. Confused yet? I didn't give him a talking to about that thing that day, but what I mostly wanted to say was "see, this is how you don't hold people responsible for things that aren't their fault." In the end it came out more of a "how come you didn't grovel like I would have had to if our roles were reversed?" This proceeded to confuse him further. So he continued putting on his coat and went to take the dog for her morning pee.
I then managed to get into a toddler argument, and one of the more poorly executed time-outs in recent history. There was a lot of leg holding. And saying "no" without it really helping get me closer to what I wanted. As soon as A gets wound up, by something I did or something the rest of the universe did, she acts up. And if you can't get back to happy space, it goes downhill quickly. With kicking, wriggling, "no!" and such. Let me be clear, that last sentence was what she did this morning, although I wouldn't be surprised if you thought I was talking about myself.
Turns out, it is one of those days. When my mood is down, depressed, and it is physically overwhelming. I don't get pain from depression like some people do. But it is a pretty strong force to be reckoned with. I also don't usually cry while watching the final drum "battle" scene from a movie on YouTube. I usually move and air drum along. It inspires me. Nope, this morning, it was all I could do to not keep crying while talking with M about how we will drive A to every practice and competition if she ever signs up for drum corps.
So I am still in my pajamas, and I'm undoing the seams in one of the duvet covers I bought at a second hand store (and already washed in super hot water and lots of detergent). I could try to measure out the slipcover for the body pillow (also out of a used sheet I bought), but that would involve using a tape measure, and since I can't find mine right now, this could easily lead to more crying. And I draw the line at crying over a misplaced tape measure. I can eye-ball it if I really want to make that pillow case.
It is one of those days. It was, even before I woke up. At the end of a dream of being disappointed by someone who told me they would proofread my writing and then didn't until later than the deadline. I woke up pissed off at that person. Or, if I'm more honest with myself (and we all know how far I can take that kind of thinking), I was hurt. By a dream about a person who has hurt me in real life, too.
This means I was in a mood this morning. Which probably quickly passed over to A. M got a healthy helping of it, too, when I brought up something he did a few days ago, which, if I had done, I think I'd have gotten a talking to from him. Confused yet? I didn't give him a talking to about that thing that day, but what I mostly wanted to say was "see, this is how you don't hold people responsible for things that aren't their fault." In the end it came out more of a "how come you didn't grovel like I would have had to if our roles were reversed?" This proceeded to confuse him further. So he continued putting on his coat and went to take the dog for her morning pee.
I then managed to get into a toddler argument, and one of the more poorly executed time-outs in recent history. There was a lot of leg holding. And saying "no" without it really helping get me closer to what I wanted. As soon as A gets wound up, by something I did or something the rest of the universe did, she acts up. And if you can't get back to happy space, it goes downhill quickly. With kicking, wriggling, "no!" and such. Let me be clear, that last sentence was what she did this morning, although I wouldn't be surprised if you thought I was talking about myself.
Turns out, it is one of those days. When my mood is down, depressed, and it is physically overwhelming. I don't get pain from depression like some people do. But it is a pretty strong force to be reckoned with. I also don't usually cry while watching the final drum "battle" scene from a movie on YouTube. I usually move and air drum along. It inspires me. Nope, this morning, it was all I could do to not keep crying while talking with M about how we will drive A to every practice and competition if she ever signs up for drum corps.
So I am still in my pajamas, and I'm undoing the seams in one of the duvet covers I bought at a second hand store (and already washed in super hot water and lots of detergent). I could try to measure out the slipcover for the body pillow (also out of a used sheet I bought), but that would involve using a tape measure, and since I can't find mine right now, this could easily lead to more crying. And I draw the line at crying over a misplaced tape measure. I can eye-ball it if I really want to make that pillow case.
Thursday, April 12, 2012
Making stuff
I've been on a week-long errands and fun spree since we got back from France and Italy. I still have A half days, but when I'm not momming, I'm giving myself time to do some spring cleaning. Which, for me, mostly involves trips to IKEA and craft ideas. And a few trips to the basement to put away old stuff to make room for the new.
And on a Thursday morning I find myself at home, with a handful of craft projects in the works.
But, let's start with a partial roll-call of the people who have helped me develop my creative side during grad school and I miss on days like this, who would make the projects even more fun and creative:
1. A and G from grad school, who helped make the Wizard of Oz Halloween crew come to life. I got to be a 6 ft tall Glinda with a 2 ft tall crown, G was the lion, curly hair and all, A was a flying monkey and the yellow brick road. And we got another 4 costumes put together for others. And trash talking.
2. K for encouraging me to think of myself as creative, and the Quantum Cat video. We may have talked some trash.
3. A for all the evenings spent doing hair and make-up and outfits for swing dancing nights. And trash talking, at an almost professional level.
4. M from museum stuff, for all the funny videos we were going to make. And the stained glass I actually got to. Also, a bit of trash talking.
5. C for teaching me to knit. And saving my sorry-knitting-ass on a number of occasions. A lot of trash talking happened at the same time.
6. S for that trip to Tucson's Santa Theresa Tile Works to create something to take away from the desert when we moved. You pick your pieces to include, they get weighed, you buy grout and a frame and go home to put it all together.
7. E for the fun of creating a bunch of super-geek astrobiology mosaic plaques for an auction at her niece's school. Trash. talk.
And about 30 minutes ago, a video about one awesome 9-year-old and his homemade arcade.
So here are the things on my table. Literally, on a number of tables around the house. I will be looking to make things with them.
And to finish, here is a Travel Bingo card I made last December, for my solo flight to the US with A. I laminated it, duh, and brought along a small dry-erase marker. She was still too young to really get it, but next time on a flight, it will probably be handy. Darn. How do I make a JPG out of a DOC file?
And on a Thursday morning I find myself at home, with a handful of craft projects in the works.
But, let's start with a partial roll-call of the people who have helped me develop my creative side during grad school and I miss on days like this, who would make the projects even more fun and creative:
1. A and G from grad school, who helped make the Wizard of Oz Halloween crew come to life. I got to be a 6 ft tall Glinda with a 2 ft tall crown, G was the lion, curly hair and all, A was a flying monkey and the yellow brick road. And we got another 4 costumes put together for others. And trash talking.
2. K for encouraging me to think of myself as creative, and the Quantum Cat video. We may have talked some trash.
3. A for all the evenings spent doing hair and make-up and outfits for swing dancing nights. And trash talking, at an almost professional level.
4. M from museum stuff, for all the funny videos we were going to make. And the stained glass I actually got to. Also, a bit of trash talking.
5. C for teaching me to knit. And saving my sorry-knitting-ass on a number of occasions. A lot of trash talking happened at the same time.
6. S for that trip to Tucson's Santa Theresa Tile Works to create something to take away from the desert when we moved. You pick your pieces to include, they get weighed, you buy grout and a frame and go home to put it all together.
 |
| Mine came out similarly. We spent over an hour just picking out exquisite little pieces. |
7. E for the fun of creating a bunch of super-geek astrobiology mosaic plaques for an auction at her niece's school. Trash. talk.
And about 30 minutes ago, a video about one awesome 9-year-old and his homemade arcade.
So here are the things on my table. Literally, on a number of tables around the house. I will be looking to make things with them.
 | ||
| Hot diggety, IKEA has a $90 sewing machine. I'm 'onna make stuff. |
 |
| In fact, I plan to go all "How do you solve a problem like"-Maria on this ex-curtain fabric and cover the balcony couch cushions in Swissy, mountainy, goat-y happiness. |
 | |
| These are sticky hooks. They will be placed on furniture in A's room. Perhaps a wall or two. They will be joined by old bedsheets with loops sewn onto the corners. This will usher in era of the blanket fort in our apartment. Ok, it could potentially start in a few months. And if the idea of a blanket (or pillow) fort strikes you as way cool, instead of childish, I suggest you watch the last 2 episodes of Community online. |
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
Springtime, in Europe
I finally feel like I live in Europe. That Montreux is only a 2 hour car ride away, and that I can handle driving that car if I wind up renting one. That Torino is not too far, and that it is a quirky, more granola and much more child friendly version of Milan. That I can hop on a plane to Paris for a one night getaway with M. That it isn't a horrible idea to sign up for a conference in Istanbul and plan to take along M and A.
How cool is that? I moved to Europe in my mid 30s and am now preparing to rock the giggly off this wonderful fact.
We spent Easter weekend in Torino. By way of a few nights in Grenoble, France. It was the official opening of my "Summer Of Travel" whereby I take back the fun in life. My astronomy exhibit project at work is done, I'm not pregnant and sick, and my kid is older. So, of course, I have planned some 6 trips for the next 3 months.
Then we got to Torino. And by the end of day 1 there, we were like, "Who took our child and replaced her with this hyperactive, screaming maniac?"
Uh oh. "Summer of Travel" may wind up being a drama/horror flick instead of a light, family comedy and feel-good film.
Looking back, I think the answer to the question above is, "we did." Just because my child is always looking for new things to do within the boring old confines of our apartment, doesn't mean it is a good idea to take her to a new city, and then make sure she is outside of the apartment (lovely apartment, by the way, again thanks to AirBnB) some 10 hours of each day. Now that we are home, whole hours have gone by without me sitting on a toilet in a tiny Italian bathroom in a gorgeous old restaurant, with a bare butted toddler slung over my lap, as I try to get her clean diaper ON, and she tries her hardest to get her bare bottom ON THE FLOOR. Ew. There, on Easter Sunday afternoon, she was shrieking with laughter as I told her "NO!" and I was the closest I've gotten to spanking her.
But, by some grace of god, chocolate, northern Italy, or spring, I realized this fact before I acted on it. I just wanted to make her stop laughing and listen to me. And to be sad for what she was doing. What a horrible space to be in. I was in a mood the rest of the afternoon and evening, and had to read on the couch another few hours after she and M went to sleep, one of the Ladies' No. 1 Detective Agency books (which are my secret weapon for getting through horrible life moments), while the dinner in the upstairs apartment got really rowdy. And all of this after such a great picnic in the kid-friendly, playground and grass and fountain-laden park earlier that afternoon. I mean, we event invented Mango Nectar Mimosas. It was glorious. And then came the fall.
Before I got to sleep, I looked through my photos of the day, from my phone. And you know what? In between all those moments of "We mean it! Either get in the stroller or walk, now! Stop playing with the dirty rocks on the street! Stop running towards traffic! Stop running 100 meters away in the piazza!", there were many smiles. Ok, so there was really no extra hand to take photos of our dysfunctional little family in the moments when one of us was throwing a tantrum, but there were lots of smiles. And a little kid who we realized was trying her hardest to adapt to a lot of new stimuli that we kept subjecting her to, in between bites of Easter chocolate eggs and gelato. How much more could we have subjected her to, anyway?
So, overall, I think that SOT is still on schedule, but I'll be a bit more careful (ok, a lot, like, a lot a lot) about how we organize each trip. Staying in a hotel room and playing for hours is good. Getting used to things it good. Making sure we are driving during naptime is good (yesterday's drive home was actually much easier, because we were more cautious to ask A what she wanted and to try to keep it a bit slower). Slowing down is good. And, catching myself before I spank my kid, something I am so completely not ok with and yet will probably be scared of doing for the next 10 years, is good.
So for the end of this post, I'd like to give a little shout out to all the great things about the trip, and the things that helped make it easier:
- staying with friends with kids in on a mountain top in France a few days before Torino
- finding a Playmobil camper van (on aforementioned friends' advice) in Torino as our first day's outing goal - this thing is soooo cool.
- pasta and pizza for meals
-Torino playgrounds
- child-friendly restaurants, with baby chairs
- splitting the drive up by stops in France for 2 days, and then stops in Aosta and Montreux on the way back and making sure napping and nighttime sleep took up as many hours of the drive as possible
- singing Old MacDonald in the car as many times as possible
- getting warm milk for A in pretty glasses when we got coffees, and letting her enjoy her milk mustaches (and amazing cupcakes while we were at it)
-AirBnB...again, an artsy apartment, with lots of space, and a decaying, charming courtyard I could look into on a morning when I woke before everyone else
- the best Easter egg prize ever in Torino (inside of the best dark chocolate egg I've ever tasted) - a coral colored, rubber covered calculator that became A's phone and camera
- going back for 5 more minutes on top of the first 10 minutes that A
spent sitting in a toy car in Montreux, as it got cold outside, after
dinner, just letting her play (and stopping in Montreux for a walk and dinner)
- asking people we met for suggestions about parks, toy stores and restaurants
How cool is that? I moved to Europe in my mid 30s and am now preparing to rock the giggly off this wonderful fact.
We spent Easter weekend in Torino. By way of a few nights in Grenoble, France. It was the official opening of my "Summer Of Travel" whereby I take back the fun in life. My astronomy exhibit project at work is done, I'm not pregnant and sick, and my kid is older. So, of course, I have planned some 6 trips for the next 3 months.
Then we got to Torino. And by the end of day 1 there, we were like, "Who took our child and replaced her with this hyperactive, screaming maniac?"
Uh oh. "Summer of Travel" may wind up being a drama/horror flick instead of a light, family comedy and feel-good film.
Looking back, I think the answer to the question above is, "we did." Just because my child is always looking for new things to do within the boring old confines of our apartment, doesn't mean it is a good idea to take her to a new city, and then make sure she is outside of the apartment (lovely apartment, by the way, again thanks to AirBnB) some 10 hours of each day. Now that we are home, whole hours have gone by without me sitting on a toilet in a tiny Italian bathroom in a gorgeous old restaurant, with a bare butted toddler slung over my lap, as I try to get her clean diaper ON, and she tries her hardest to get her bare bottom ON THE FLOOR. Ew. There, on Easter Sunday afternoon, she was shrieking with laughter as I told her "NO!" and I was the closest I've gotten to spanking her.
But, by some grace of god, chocolate, northern Italy, or spring, I realized this fact before I acted on it. I just wanted to make her stop laughing and listen to me. And to be sad for what she was doing. What a horrible space to be in. I was in a mood the rest of the afternoon and evening, and had to read on the couch another few hours after she and M went to sleep, one of the Ladies' No. 1 Detective Agency books (which are my secret weapon for getting through horrible life moments), while the dinner in the upstairs apartment got really rowdy. And all of this after such a great picnic in the kid-friendly, playground and grass and fountain-laden park earlier that afternoon. I mean, we event invented Mango Nectar Mimosas. It was glorious. And then came the fall.
Before I got to sleep, I looked through my photos of the day, from my phone. And you know what? In between all those moments of "We mean it! Either get in the stroller or walk, now! Stop playing with the dirty rocks on the street! Stop running towards traffic! Stop running 100 meters away in the piazza!", there were many smiles. Ok, so there was really no extra hand to take photos of our dysfunctional little family in the moments when one of us was throwing a tantrum, but there were lots of smiles. And a little kid who we realized was trying her hardest to adapt to a lot of new stimuli that we kept subjecting her to, in between bites of Easter chocolate eggs and gelato. How much more could we have subjected her to, anyway?
So, overall, I think that SOT is still on schedule, but I'll be a bit more careful (ok, a lot, like, a lot a lot) about how we organize each trip. Staying in a hotel room and playing for hours is good. Getting used to things it good. Making sure we are driving during naptime is good (yesterday's drive home was actually much easier, because we were more cautious to ask A what she wanted and to try to keep it a bit slower). Slowing down is good. And, catching myself before I spank my kid, something I am so completely not ok with and yet will probably be scared of doing for the next 10 years, is good.
So for the end of this post, I'd like to give a little shout out to all the great things about the trip, and the things that helped make it easier:
- staying with friends with kids in on a mountain top in France a few days before Torino
- finding a Playmobil camper van (on aforementioned friends' advice) in Torino as our first day's outing goal - this thing is soooo cool.
 |
| Dishes and mugs have special storage shelf. |
 |
| Mirror, toilet and shower, and toilet paper - so far even the soccer ball that came with the set has taken a shower. |
 |
| Tiny, cute stuff. Alas, thermos may have stayed in Torino. |
- pasta and pizza for meals
-Torino playgrounds
- child-friendly restaurants, with baby chairs
- splitting the drive up by stops in France for 2 days, and then stops in Aosta and Montreux on the way back and making sure napping and nighttime sleep took up as many hours of the drive as possible
- singing Old MacDonald in the car as many times as possible
- getting warm milk for A in pretty glasses when we got coffees, and letting her enjoy her milk mustaches (and amazing cupcakes while we were at it)
-AirBnB...again, an artsy apartment, with lots of space, and a decaying, charming courtyard I could look into on a morning when I woke before everyone else
- the best Easter egg prize ever in Torino (inside of the best dark chocolate egg I've ever tasted) - a coral colored, rubber covered calculator that became A's phone and camera
 |
| Taking photos with her "phone"...."cleek!" |
 | |
| Montreux lakeshore |
- asking people we met for suggestions about parks, toy stores and restaurants
Sunday, April 1, 2012
Muppets
The most spiritual experiences I have these days are related to A. And they tend to catch me unawares. I'll be sitting at her crib, having said "ok" to holding her little hand for another 5 minutes so she can fall asleep, wondering, as I do, what it too long or not enough for helping her learn to fall asleep on her own. And suddenly I realize that there is a human being, with a small, warm hand, with blood pumping through it, with thoughts swirling in her almost asleep head, twitching a message in her hand, right there. One that I carried in my body, and one that is partially of me. And I think that sitting there, feeling my skin against hers is a pretty good way to just be in the present moment with the universe. And that my greatest hope is that more of the best of me makes it to her, than the worst of me. That I can help delete some of the junk I'm dealing with so she won't have to, and pass on some of the good.
Then, as it does, my mind wanders off. To how long I've been sitting there, and if I could make likenesses of all our family with Muppet What-Not characters, two of whom made it to my mailbox for my birthday this year.
Which brings me to the Muppet links I found after watching the new Muppet Movie last night with M. It was cute, and funny. Don't even get me started on how much better than "Tara Road" it was. I watched that while M was away for a few days. Given that one of the Flight of the Conchords guys wrote the music, even, how could the Muppet Movie not have been awesome?
This afternoon, during A's bath (it was M's turn to bathe her), I poke around on the internet to see what "how to" links are out there for making Muppet-like puppets. And these are the best three I found:
Electric Mayhem Band fake concert posters by Michael de Pippo,
Eric Slager's minimalist Muppets print which reminds me of the Lego cartoon characters graphic swimming around Facebook these days,
and a wedding proposal I wish I had come up with, with What-Nots.
About the only thing that can top any of this is a YouTube helping of some Pepe the King Prawn.
(10 min later)
Nope. I was wrong. And I will have to just be jealous of all you people living in the US now....this is what Henson puppeteers do on their down time, Stuffed and Unstrung. Make sure you watch some of the YouTube clips.
Then, as it does, my mind wanders off. To how long I've been sitting there, and if I could make likenesses of all our family with Muppet What-Not characters, two of whom made it to my mailbox for my birthday this year.
Which brings me to the Muppet links I found after watching the new Muppet Movie last night with M. It was cute, and funny. Don't even get me started on how much better than "Tara Road" it was. I watched that while M was away for a few days. Given that one of the Flight of the Conchords guys wrote the music, even, how could the Muppet Movie not have been awesome?
This afternoon, during A's bath (it was M's turn to bathe her), I poke around on the internet to see what "how to" links are out there for making Muppet-like puppets. And these are the best three I found:
Electric Mayhem Band fake concert posters by Michael de Pippo,
Eric Slager's minimalist Muppets print which reminds me of the Lego cartoon characters graphic swimming around Facebook these days,
and a wedding proposal I wish I had come up with, with What-Nots.
About the only thing that can top any of this is a YouTube helping of some Pepe the King Prawn.
(10 min later)
Nope. I was wrong. And I will have to just be jealous of all you people living in the US now....this is what Henson puppeteers do on their down time, Stuffed and Unstrung. Make sure you watch some of the YouTube clips.
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