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Showing posts with label travel. Show all posts
Showing posts with label travel. Show all posts

Tuesday, May 5, 2009

They Are Not Allowed To Go On Spring Break. Ever.

Here I am, giving Baby (decked in her uber-flattering horizontally-striped onesie) her morning bottle.  Husband and Toddler are in the other room engaged in a frantic search for the missing Sponge Bob umbrella.  So, Baby is gulping away peacefully and I am soaking up the Today Show (which is usually preempted by Diego).  And then BAM.  They run a lovely story about that New York teen who has "gone missing" in Myrtle Beach where she is/was Spring Breaking.  

Now I look down at Baby, six months shy of her first birthday, and I literally say to her -- out loud -- "You're not going."  And she looks up at me, blue eyes bright, and keeps gulping.  And suddenly I realize that I might not end up being that cool, easy breezy mom I always told myself I'd be.  And suddenly I have hazy flashbacks of my own spring breaks.  And this confirms it.  They are not going.  Ever. 

So here I am worrying about something that might become an issue, say, fourteen years from now.  It would be a pinch more rational for me to worry about Toddler "going missing" in the halls of her future preschool.  But so what?  And maybe things will be different 1.4 decades from now, right?  Maybe staycations will be all the rage and teens and college kids will have big, civilized sleepovers right in the comforts of their parents' homes?  And they will don horizontally-striped bikinis and lounge in backyards (or living rooms).  And dutiful and doting parents will be able to keep that proverbial eye on their youth?  Could happen, huh?  A girl can dream.  A mom can pray.

Bottle is done.  Umbrella is found.  Diego has replaced Matt Lauer.  Moment is over.  

But one thing hasn't changed over the course of the last few minutes: they are not going.

Monday, April 20, 2009

The Grass Is Greener

Knowing trees, I understand the meaning of patience. Knowing grass, I can appreciate persistence.”  Hal Borland

You know what?  The grass is greener.  In bucolic Wayne, Pennsylvania, that is.  Frankly, the grass is greener almost anywhere.  Because most grass is greener than no grass.  Because I live in a place, a wonderful place, that boasts very little of the green stuff.  

Sure, we have Central Park and I love the Park.  The fam and I have had many magical moments at Turtle Pond.  But the truth is there is a paucity of nature here in this lovely concrete jungle.  Does this matter?  According to Yale professor of psychology Paul Bloom, the answer is a resounding YES.  To kick off Earth Week, the New York Times included Bloom's fascinating article Natural Happiness in yesterday's Magazine.  In this article, Bloom proffers an admittedly self-centered argument for why we should care about nature; it makes us happier and healthier creatures.  He endorses Harvard biologist E. O. Wilson's well-known “biophilia” hypothesis, namely that "our evolutionary history has blessed us with an innate affinity for living things. We thrive in the presence of nature and suffer in its absence."

For me, this raises two immediate questions: (1) Is Bloom right?; and (2) Is this argument patent evidence of our human-centered thought?  

I do think Bloom is onto something.  Something big.  Something fundamental.  I spent the weekend amidst grass and flowers and trees and you know what? It was a good weekend. A happy one.  The girls were all smiles.  And, yes, I'm sure this had a lot to do with my In-Laws, the incomparable Grammy and Dad-Dad, and the tasty home-cooked meals, etc., but I do think the fact that we were outside for much of the time, tasting nature (not wilderness, but nature nonetheless) had a lot to do with it.  On Saturday, we visited Chanticleer Garden, the former estate of the Rosengartens, a big pharmaceutical-family which has been open to the public since 1993.  We spent the morning meandering through this utopia of flowers and foliage and fountains, and then enjoyed a yummy picnic of sandwiches from the local farmer's market.  It is not a coincidence that this oasis is called "a pleasure garden."

As much as Bloom and Wilson and the biophilia hypothesis might be true, is this argument another indicator of misguided, human-centered thinking?  Perhaps.  After all, this is Earth week and not Human Happiness week and we should care about the earth and work to protect it because it is intrinsically valuable not because it enhances our happiness quotient.  Now, all of this might be true, but if our bottom line is to preserve nature then we should collect all of the reasons, even if they are rooted in self-centered soil.  As Bloom says, "Look at it from the coldblooded standpoint of the enhancement of the happiness of our everyday lives. Real natural habitats provide significant sources of pleasure for modern humans. We intuitively grasp this, and this knowledge underlies the anxiety that we feel about nature’s loss. It might be that one day we will be able to replace the experience of nature with “Star Trek” holodecks and robotic animals. But until then, this basic fact about human pleasure is an excellent argument for keeping the real thing."

Practically speaking, what does this mean for us city-slickers?  For us Manhattan moms?  Bloom refers to author Richard Louv's disconcerting argument that modern children suffer from "nature-deficit disorder" because they have been disconnected from the myriad physical and psychic benefits that result from organic contact with nature.  Great. Just another disorder to worry about.  But, seriously, what can we do about all this?  

I'm not so sure.  But suddenly, I am very thankful for the blossoming Magnolia outside our brownstone window, for the Park in our backyard, for the pesky pigeons Toddler chases on the sidewalks, for Grammy and Dad-Dad's open arms and green grass mere hours away.

Saturday, April 18, 2009

Not Another One

Last night, the four of us piled in the rental car and headed for Husband's parents' place in Wayne, Pennsylvania.  Our plan seemed sound: feed the kids and then hop in the car.  Then kids would sleep for the two hour ride and Husband and I would have a nice chunk of time to catch up about the week.

An hour later, we arrived at a lovely traffic jam at the Lincoln Tunnel and both kids were wide awake. Not crying.  But awake.  Toddler sang songs.  And Baby wiggled around in her seat.  The second we entered the tunnel: Bam.  Baby projectile vomited.  Four times.  Miraculously, she did not cry.  Husband and I had a wonderful conversation about whether to mop up the vomit with a diaper or my jacket.

No, I was not prepared for this.  And I should have been. Toddler has been a champion car-vomiter since she was Baby's age.  And as a frantically-nervous first-time mom, I harrassed Pediatrican about this and Pediatrician chuckled and said: "Ah, city kids. They're never in cars."  (Come on.  Don't taxis count?)

After a couple of dicey jaunts in the car today, I decided to Google motion sickness and found out that when it comes to the projectile propensity, my kids are in good company. None other than celebrity doctor Sanjay Gupta suffers from an acute version of this affliction.  He has a few highly encouraging things to say about all this: (1) Often individuals with inner ear problems or impaired vision or Diabetes have motion sickness; (2) There really is no viable therapy for this condition; and (3) There are some studies (albeit scientifically tenuous according to him) that suggest that motion sickness is genetic.

And suddenly, I had vivid memories of losing my cookies (Literally. My grandmother made them and they were peanut butter) in the backseat of a station wagon.  And I asked Husband whether he got carsick as a kid and, sure enough, he did.  

So, in the grand nature v. nurture debate, is motion sickness a matter of nature or nurture?  Are my poor kids getting sick because they have our genes or because we are rearing them in the big city?  I'm not so sure.  I just really hope: (1) that my kids do not have problems with their eyes or inner ears; and (2) that we make it back to the City tomorrow without an eruption of the adorable backseat vomit volcano.

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