nuggets, 09/21/12: less is more

This post will obey two seemingly contradictory dicta--that less is more and that something is better than nothing.

Coal Mine Ridge, Portola Valley

We continue to practice internet-free weekends, and I have been taking notes. As I plough through the notes, synonyms accrue: clear, declutter, purge, weed, cleanse.

It's possible that this new obsession to think about and observe the effects of connectedness on our brains is just the peculiar form my middle-age crisis will take (emphasis on will).

It's also possible that I will get over it sooner rather than later.

Here is what I have found so far.

After being off the grid for about four hours at the start of a weekend, once the fidgeting stops, I am able to:
:: weed out the stuff that's important from the stuff that, in the large picture, matters not at all; there are many emails not worth reading.

:: clear a whole lot of debris that otherwise washes, unbidden, on the fragile ecosystem of my mind; a thoughtful conversation with a colleague assumes new significance when it does not compete for mental space with the most recent election gossip.

:: follow uncomfortable thoughts, which otherwise might get shoved aside by a convenient distraction, to places where genuine inner work occurs; many a thought need that kind of attention lately--either it's growing pains, or yet another sign of middle age.

:: focus on beauty that's right here to touch and see; my children, my students, nature.

:: talk to Sava and Raya in ways that make them, over the course of a weekend, mellow, thoughtful, and relaxed--a sure sign that something in our conversation tilts when the possibility of checking email or googling a factoid disappears.

I'm not ready to throw in the towel and move to a homestead in Montana yet (as if a homestead would be disconnected), but I sure as hell am not ready to embrace whole-heartedly the glossolalia of the digital world either.

touching the bark of madrone--we finally learned the name of these beautiful, bizarre trees

:::
Raya's "best friend" turned three last week, in a startling reminder that our own girl is about to turn three herself.

We feel so fortunate to have Phoebe growing up right alongside Raya.

Three is a magical age, with tectonic events happening on average every forty-eight hours, and it is sometimes hard to remember to not let it all go unnoticed.

They are earnest, loud, irrational, independent, funny, and infuriating, all in one.

:::
Stuff They Say 

On a recent homework assignment, Sava was asked to write a sentence about his home.
His sentence:
"I like evrebodee at my home."

We give warnings for unacceptable behavior around here, followed sometimes--though not frequently--by brief time-outs. You get one warning, you get two warnings, and on the third warning (or sometimes on the second) . . . you go up to your room. Recently, at the table:
Raya (to no one in particular): You stink!
Mom: And if you say that again, you may have to go upstairs.
Raya: My first warning! 

We have also vetoed the use of many a word and expression that we know will become a part of their vocabularies inevitably anyway: stupid, dumb, fat, hate, "none of your business," to name a few. Crappy would be on the list if we'd ever heard them use it, but we had not...until two nights ago.
Raya: I need another toothbrush because this one is crappy! 

During the usual mayhem that is bedtime, a couple of nights ago, Raya was helping get Sava's bed ready for sleep:
I'm going to put the friends up on the bed, Sava! You do your thing! (the friends are his SEVEN stuffed animals, which sleep with him)

Related to the above, Sava can be overheard saying on average half a dozen times each day:
Raya, you're not the boss of me!
Raya, stop talking like you are the boss! 

hiking with Nicole at Picchetti 

As so many of the photos demonstrate, Raya's obsession with dolls continues unabated. There is at least one doll, often two, in tow wherever we go. Almost always the doll is accompanied by a blanket, a carrier, a stroller, or any of the above.

There is also much recent talk about wanting to have "a real baby" that grows in her tummy. When these conversations started a couple of weeks ago, and she first began mentioning wanting a "real baby," I asked her how many babies she wanted when she grew up and she replied:
Just one baby, 'cause if I have too many, they'll all get mixed up. So, I'll just have one baby! 

When Sava became a part of the conversation, this quickly morphed into the idea that she will have two babies and will give one to Sava, so they "each can have one." Today for the first time she said that she'll have a baby girl and Sava will have a baby boy, this time in response to my saying that she could not choose the gender of her baby. Somehow, a girl for her and a boy for Sava seemed to solve that problem.

Two days ago in the car, while listening to NPR:
Raya: Why do they keep talking about Obama?
Me: Well, because he is the president, and he wants to continue being the president, but there is another guy who also wants to be president. So, we have to decide who is going to be the president.
Raya: I will be the president! . . . 
Me: I think you could be, when you grow up.
(five seconds later) 
Raya: Actually, I'm gonna have babies when I grow up! That will be even more fun! 

picnicking on the front porch

There has also been endless talk over the past few months about what she will get for her birthday. The list changes and expands every single day. During another car ride recently:
Raya: Hey, mom, are you making a list of the things you're gonna buy me for my birthday?

reading a book about steam locomotives

When we pick up Sava, we have a well-established ritual of having about a ten-minute conversation about his day at school. Raya has been listening to those since he started Kindergarten last year. In a rare moment of silence in the car on the way to pick up Sava today:
Raya: Mommy, can you talk to me?
Me: What would you like to talk about, sweetheart?
Raya: About how my day was?