Tradition

In a life where it feels as though things are always changing, some things never change. So, tonight, even despite all the talk of Thanksgivukah, Chanukah was upon me, and I felt relatively unprepared. No doughnuts or latkes, no gifts already wrapped, a mad scramble through a drawer full of candles. And yet, though it was late when we sat down together to light candles, it suddenly didn't matter what had or hadn't led up to that moment. We were back at something we do every year. That, too, I guess, doesn't change.
 
We can call things that don't change a rut, or we can call them tradition-- it's really up to us. For the short time when I was laughing at myself for being caught unawares by a holiday that has been hyped all around me, I thought perhaps it was a rut. And yet, when I sat down with my family and the candles (the first lit from the stove because, among other things, we didn't have matches), I laughed again. It was tradition--all the crazy little pieces that make our Chanukah ours each year.
 
And in a life where it feels as though things are always changing, it's pretty nice to have some things that really don't--things that are just tradition.

Jury Duty, Day Two

Yesterday, I was twitchy. Confined to a room full of strangers, worried about all the things I wasn't doing and about how long I'd be kept here, unable to do all those things. None of those things have really changed. I still have a full list of things I could be doing, and there is still the possibility that I will end up being kept here, unable to do all those things.
 
Today, however, a peace of sorts has set in. You see, while I am required to be here, to show up by 9:30 and spend as long here as I am told, that is basically all that is expected of me. I will not be judged on how I sit, or what I do with my time. I need not be in a hurry--there's nowhere to go and nothing to finish. And anything I need to be doing outside of here will just have to wait, because I am required to be at jury duty.
 
In a world where we are judged on just about every move we make, whether it is what we accomplish at work or how the kids we are raising are doing in school and life, how we dress, or whether we look young or old, having any time during which we are NOT judged is rare. Very rare. And, as I am finding out on this jury duty adventure, kind of lovely. I can read, or write, or just stare off into space if I want. Sure, there is the possibility that I will be called into a room to answer questions about a case, but aside from sounding like the perfect juror and having to stay a bit longer, I will experience no real consequence from my answers. And whether being kept as a juror or being turned away is the better result, neither one will be a reflection of my intelligence or my performance. Again, kind of lovely.
 
So, for now, I am writing and reading, and enjoying Jury Duty, Day Two. Before I know it, I will be released into that world where I am judged on my actions and performance, not to return here for another six or so years. I might as well enjoy this while it lasts.

Duties

Jury--A few days every few years--no big deal, right? Captive audience, time to read, the knowledge that you are doing a good thing even when for hours it may feel as though you are doing nothing at all. Aah, duty.

Parent-Teacher Conference--A few minutes every six months--that's enough, right? To discuss your child's progress in barely more time than in takes to say, "hi, I'm (insert child's name here)'s mom, and decidedly less time than it takes to get to the school and back. Aah, duty.

Homework Monitor--No matter how little work there is to do, it is always done as late as possible. Is the duty making sure it's done, or making sure the homework doers get a good night's sleep? That's a tough one, since the sleep will help in the short run, but the quality of homework will help in the long. Aah, duty.

The Theater--Okay, that doesn't sound like a duty. And yet, when you live in New York, sometimes you just have to make time--surrounding conferences and homework monitoring and jury duty--to leave room for theater. Aha! Duty.

Our lives are full of duties, large and small. We can let duty weigh us down or  let it lift us up--it's really just a matter of perspective. And I'll bet you can guess what my perspective will be.

Intention and Reality

I intended to get up at 7--later than normal but early enough to do things--but 7 came and went, and I was still in bed.
 
I intended to come straight home after I walked my brother to his train, but I was across town, and child-free, so I didn't exactly come straight home.
 
I intended to use that not going straight home time to accomplish some really worthwhile things. I accomplished virtually nothing worthwhile.
 
I intended to do some cleaning up when I did make it home. Instead, I took a nap.
 
I intended to use my stored up energy from taking the nap to do lots of things in the evening. I really just want to go to bed.
 
I intended to go to bed earlier than normal. It's already later than normal.
 
Sometimes intentions are just that--intentions, bearing little resemblance to reality. And while it might be good to have intentions--sometimes, accepting reality is just fine.

Claw Games

You know those machines you see in arcades (and in random places like the front of family restaurants and discount stores), where you maneuver a claw to try to grab prizes ranging from scary-looking stuffed animals to watches and electronics? Recently, my son has been obsessed with these "claw games." He watches YouTube videos of claw game aficionados (yes, people really do post those!), he shows off the assorted trinkets he has acquired in his various claw game exploits, and he bemoans the fact that the very best claw game machines are nowhere near where we live.
 
The thing about claw games is that the claw is designed to drop stuff. So, while it may pick up just what you want (or something you really don't), quite often it dangles said item just close enough for you to see and get excited about, but drops it before the item ever makes it to the delivery chute and your hands. You can practice and get better about making the claw deliver your prize, but you do so at a cost--ranging from 25 cents to a dollar and up per try, depending on the location and contents of the particular machine.
 
Like any parent who doles out money for kid activities, I caution my son over and over about believing he will ever be a big winner at the claw game. I call it a scam, a waste of his time and money. Yet, his optimism remains. He believes that he will be one of those people who wins an iPad with just a few dollar investment in claw game playing.
 
When I think about it, though, it seems to me that the claw game is really about how persistent you are when the deck is stacked against you. While I might consider the game a waste of money, I can't deny that the hope it inspires in my son may not be so terrible. After all, is it so terrible in life to believe that you can defeat the dragons? That you can succeed when the odds favor the other guy? Isn't it those battles with dragons that make us stronger?
 
My son won eleven items from the claw machine today, not necessarily because he is a claw machine prodigy, but because he went after something he wanted (passing up on other things he might have done). While it is not a talent to take him through life, perhaps it is a sign that sometimes belief and practice can get you closer to the prize.
 
This doesn't mean I'll be bankrolling the habit. I just might learn a little bit from it.

Routine Visitors

I have a friend who used to live in a very small apartment, but had visitors on a regular basis. She didn't mind the extra people, and as a person who knew all sorts of interesting city places, she was able to entertain visitors from anywhere. And she always seemed to have the time and energy to adjust her routine to add the visitors to her daily life.
 
My friend no longer lives in that small apartment, and when in New York, she is now the guest (though she could still teach me a lot about where to go here). Sometimes I get to see her when she visits. Sometimes life just gets in the way.
 
I often wish I could be the kind of person she was when she was in that small apartment here--able to pause my daily life to devote myself to entertaining visitors. Able to know all the best places to go and the best combination of things to do to make the most of a visit, long or short. Yet, I find that my daily life is hard to pause. Perhaps it is that I am surrounded by children with commitments. Perhaps routine creates a security that is hard to give up.
 
It's interesting that a person like me, who has always flown by the seat of my pants, would find security in routine. After all, wasn't I the person who had no sleeping and eating schedule for my kids when they were babies? Wasn't I the person who ended up with kids in three schools because it worked out that way (and I refused to force it to be simpler)? Aren't I the person who is constantly adding activities for us to juggle?
 
Routines are one of our ways to cope in a world that changes daily. While I might not be able to pause life completely, visitors are a reminder that it's okay to give up routine-and the security of routine--once in a while. Visitors (and my friend must have known this) provide us with a new perspective that trumps daily security. They allow us to see our daily world through different eyes, even just for a moment, and they are worth pausing the routine for.
 
And while I may not want an apartment of wall to wall people, as my friend used to have in her small apartment, I will try to remember that the next time visitors come.

Balancing Acts

Tonight I left a networking event, at which people were talking about (among other things), the challenges of balancing work and family, to meet my kids to see a play. I did not give out any of the résumés or business cards I brought along, so I will not be remembered, except perhaps as the woman who left in the middle of one of the panelists answering a question, and perhaps by a few of the non-panelists with whom I talked before the official program.
 
Tonight I also saw a terrific play which, for an hour and a half, transported me far away from networking and figuring out what to be when I grow up. For an hour and a half, I balanced work and family by choosing family--not just my kids, but myself as well. I may have skipped out on the networking event so that they could see the show, but in the end, I was at least as happy as they were to be there. And I guess that's what people mean when they talk about balancing work and family--being able to make decisions both for the long haul and on the spot that keep your own well-being, your family's well-being, and your potential work success in mind. It's no easier, really, than balancing on one leg, but sometimes, when you follow your instincts, it just kind of works out. Tonight was one of those times. Tomorrow, I can follow up with the people I couldn't talk to tonight. Tonight, I just get to feel as though the balancing act worked.