Today was not a great day, parenting-wise. I did the “I REALLY don’t want to take you to something you want to go to, so I will take you to it, but I will be so grumpy and sullen and martyrish about it, and so unable to break out of that mood even as I OBSERVE the mood and know I MUST break out of it, that I threaten to suck the joy out of everything; and also I will say regrettable things indicating my lack of enthusiasm, as if you couldn’t already FULLY COMPREHEND my lack of enthusiasm from THE LOOMING DARK CLOUD OF MY WHOLE BEING.” Then I did the “Pointing out that I TOLD YOU it would not be fun, but you WOULD NOT BELIEVE ME, and now I have set it up so that it is IMPOSSIBLE FOR YOU TO ADMIT IT, and in this way I CONTINUE TO SUCK OUT ANY POTENTIAL HAPPINESS, now or in the future when you might want to do something else you think might be fun.”
It wasn’t good. Why did I even BECOME a parent? What a terrible idea. My poor children. Etc.
Oh! Do you need an infusion of “humankind is generally-speaking okay after all,” as I do after repeatedly accidentally looking at comments on political posts, and also after repeatedly accidentally deliberately looking at the Facebook profiles of family members I’ve had to hide for their nauseating-to-me political views? I suggest a trip to a museum. Paul and I went to an art museum today, and I kept getting teary-eyed at all the WORK and EFFORT it takes for some people to make art, and for other people to carefully preserve and protect and display it, and to create special exhibitions around a theme, and to take time to choose what to write on the little plaques, and to CARE that people come visit. There were items from, like, 1263. That’s a YEAR: 1263 doesn’t even LOOK LIKE a year, but it WAS. And those items were in a museum because not just one somebody but a whole LINE of somebodies care so much about keeping it. People spend THEIR WHOLE LIVES preserving ART for people to see long after they themselves have died. Something is beautiful and/or meaningful and/or important and so they carefully protect it and…*SOB* PEOPLE CAN BE SO LOVELY
The out-of-body experience of seeing yourself behaving regrettably and yet not being able to STOP the regrettable behavior seems like a design flaw. What’s the point of doing something AND feeling bad about and yet not being able to STOP. So frustrating.
Also yay for art!!! I feel like your reaction must be making so many artists and curators etc feel like it is All Worth It!
I cried when I saw the Mona Lisa in person not because it was so beautiful, but because so many people for so long have worked so hard to protect it and right now it is protected in this big sheet of glass that descends into the floor in the event of an emergency!!
What Suzanne said. Copy/paste. :)
Ugh about a year ago I made a thoughtless and mean comment to my son about a series of books he was reading and loving. I apologized but the damage was already done. He stopped reading that series never to go back. I hate that I said anything. God knows I read all kinds of crap. He should read whatever gives him joy. And yet, I said it. It’s over a year layer and I’m still pained by that parenting fail.
I had a similar “humanity can be SO AMAZING” moment the other day, when I visited the library for the first time in awhile. All of these books are here for anyone to read! For free! I can take any of these books home with me! All I have to do is bring them back so someone ELSE can read them! How amazing is that?! *sob*
I feel this way about libraries, too!
Everything you said about art and museums is why I majored in Art History. Visiting the National Gallery of Art, especially the West Wing, fills me with awe. I enjoy the East Wing too, however, that is always a more fun, light experience. Plus they have excellent gelato in their cafe! I had a professor who said that we are all basically adding our pinch of sand to a mountain. We just have to choose which mountain to add to.
I read about the Uffington White Horse (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Uffington_White_Horse) and was blown away by this: the horse is approx. 3,000 YEARS old, and is basically just cleared grass on a white chalk hillside, but “When regular cleaning is halted the figure quickly becomes obscured; it has always needed frequent work for the figure to remain visible.”. Now I’m making myself teary-eyed.
I remember I was in Ireland years ago and I was standing in this building that was made in 1102 or something and I thought the same thing, is that a year? I watched that Amanda Knox documentary on Netflix recently and the Italian lawyer is asked about criticism he’s gotten from people in the US and he says, this courthouse we are in was built in 1308. In 1308 in America, they were still drawing buffaloes in caves, ha!
Oh, Parenting. I was at a wedding this weekend, talking with a couple who has three kids – like 5, 3 and brand new. The dad was asking me, when does it get better? I said I think it all gets better for me, at 11, 8,7 and 5, as they get better communication and can do more on their own. But then I read this birthday salutations from parents to THEIR eight year olds and it’s like “happy birthday to one of the most beautiful, wonderful, giving and brilliant, sweet and kind and good natured people I know, my daughter!” and i think really? All I can think of to say is “happy birthday!”.
That was one thing I LOVED about Rome when I visited as a teen. People are just walking by stuff that is hundreds or even thousands of years old. All day, every day. And sure, in the US, we have mountains and whatnot that are that old, but definitely not structures that are still in use. It’s amazing!
Aw, I hate bad parenting days. They are the worst. xoxo
I read this to my husband (we are both artists) and we both loved it so much. So often people think of art as a pretentious pastime for wealthy people but when done right, it can showcase the best of what we’re capable of, cooperation, caring and protection.
The other day I was listening to movie reviews on our local public radio station and they were discussing a documentary called The Eagle Huntress. And I was sort of half paying attention as they described this group of nomads in Kazakhstan that does its hunting with trained eagles. And they were talking about how this is a skill traditionally reserved for men, and then the reviewer goes, “And so the documentary follows this 12-year-old girl …” and I immediately started crying, because I knew how the sentence would end – that this girl is the first in generations to learn the art of eagle hunting, and that she’s doing it despite strong opposition from traditionalists in her tribe, and it just made me feel so inspired (and also, WHY do my children still need help just getting a FORK out of a DRAWER to eat their waffles, which I have to butter and CUT for them because they “caaan’t dooooo it”?). And I realized that this has been happening to me a lot lately – where I suddenly hear a story or read a blurb or see a commercial that makes me realize people are awesome. And I think it must be a heightened contradictions thing where I go around feeling so often that people are not awesome that all the evidence to the contrary, when it pops up, makes me get All the Feelings.