“Oh yeah! If I were single I wouldn’t be here. When my daughter’s in college I’m on a sailboat all over.” Do you remember the song by Christopher Cross, Sailing? When I was in middle school it was my theme song. At the time I’m not sure I even really paid much attention to the words. But the idea of escape must have registered in my pubescent brain like an anchor in a storm. Since then the thought of sailing anywhere has been sadly replaced by the reality that I get easily seasick. It didn’t used to be that way. Pre having a child I could go through the murkiest water and keep my sailors feet. During one momentous trip across the Channel in England it seemed like the entire boat, other than my husband and me, were throwing up all over the place. Somehow, though, we made the two+ hour (usually it would only be about 1 1/2 hours) crossing without losing our lunch as well. Fast forward six years and it would be me in misery as I suffered through a multi-hour whale watching tour/party in Mexico. I was near hysteria at the point where the crowd with us began dancing the Macarena and encouraging the boat to stay out a little longer. I was told by the captain that if I swam for a moment I would feel better. Probably he was simply sick of my whining. Unfortunately, he didn’t warn me of the jellyfish. I was back in the boat within minutes, jellyfish stings across my back. Since that memorable trip I have been understandably hesitant to get back on a boat. I am wary of even short social trips by speedboat on our local lake. Still… the idea of a sailboat, skimming across the water, sails stiff in the wind, holds a unique place in my imagination. Through the power of dreams I do not feel the nausea, but only that glorious sense of escape.
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“Wrapping each other up in towels and cramming themselves into the laundry baskets may be fun, but it’s not really sustainable fun.”
My sister and I were talking about our Thanksgiving dinner but I found I had to keep raising my voice to be heard over the mayhem occurring in the background of her house. As usual, with a family of six, there was a stack of laundry that needed sorting and folding. However from what I could hear on my end of the phone it sounded like every time she made a pile, one of the kids or family pets would ruin it. Definitely not sustainable fun! I was intrigued by this phrase though, wondering if it might capture a whole new parenting vocabulary. Not just sustainable fun but also sustainable work or schedule or communication or friendship. At my daughter’s age of eight few ideas stay sustainable. For example, she recently decided to help feed our dog. In concept, fantastic. In reality, one forgotten meal and the plan was dumped. Definitely not sustainable. Or we decided at one point that rather than argue about things that made her unhappy we would pay attention when she raised her hand and discuss it logically, reaching a decision after hearing from her. I think it was the conversation that went something like; “It’s time to,” hand raised and discussion. “I was not going to say homework, I was going to say brush hair,” hand raised and discussion. “If you are willing to go out like that,”hand raised and discussion. “Yes, we still have to go to church.” Hand raised and discussion. … You get the idea. After half an hour of this I had completely forgotten my original request, we were late to church, and she still didn’t have her hair brushed or know what the consequence would be. Definitely not a sustainable plan. Sustainability, whether in our energy plans or in our families, takes a future view that is not always easy to see through the murk of our everyday lives. We want what we want when we want it. Still, it is a goal worth pursuing. A sustainable goal, if you will. My sister eventually did make it out of her house, ready for an activity that wouldn’t leave her house in shambles or one of her children in tears. The laundry, however, is still sitting there. |
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June 2020
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