A good friend told me yesterday how difficult she finds it to spend a whole day entertaining her twenty-month-old alone. That, she realized, is what those weekly Target outings are about.
"Target?" I thought to myself. "Target? Honey, you haven't sunk to the depths of toddler entertainment desperation until you become a regular at the play area in the food court of the Asheville Mall."
Since I had visited the Asheville Mall food court that very morning, I found her confession most reassuring. Not because I blame myself for my inability to single-handedly entertain a toddler without the aid of TiVo or Entertainment Weekly. But because there's comfort in knowing that I'm not alone.
How I Found Myself Returning to the Mall to Play
Yesterday's food court visit wasn't even a move borne of panic and frustration. Mike had watched Jake all morning while I took a shower in preparation for a day of meetings. What a lovely way to start your day -- with an actual shower while your toddler is awake in the house. As I said when Mike commented on my transformation from my usual frumpy morning appearance, "I don't get out much."
Nor was I facing all that many hours alone with Jake. He would be attending my 11:00 meeting -- the unfortunate coincidence of scheduling the meeting before realizing that Jake's school was closed yesterday in observance of Passover. This meant that I really had to worry about entertaining him for only an hour at home before taking him downtown with me.
Still, he had played out most of the first-floor options in our house by the time I came downstairs with my make-up applied and my hair blow-dried straight. He had: verbally identified and thrown every one of the wide variety of balls strewn about the house (one to two throws per ball maxes out his attention span); tired of dropping blocks down the chute of his plastic parking garage; paged through Goodnight Gorilla so many times even he was sick of it; and even come close to wearing out his fascination with the dogs next door, regularly studied through the yogurt-smeared panes of our dining room windows.
Having endured another night interrupted by his persistent cough, I simply did not feel up to the task of figuring out new and creative pursuits for the two of us.
Indeed, my options were limited if I wished to retain some semblance of neatness in my black skirt and tights. It was too chilly out to let him play in the yard while I read the first section of the New York Times, which I had sacrificed to my shower. The adventures to be found in my office getting into boxes of paper clips and an old ink pad from China (I shudder to think of the toxic possibilities) usually don't last him ten minutes, much less an hour. There was no choice.
I felt, I must report, not an ounce of guilt as I loaded him into the car for a trip to the mall.
We arrived a little after 10:00 to a parking lot empty except for a few clusters of cars huddled together by the escalators as if gossiping about their owners. I wondered what my CRV would say about me. Luckily, I had vacuumed several boxes worth of cracker crumbs off its floor on Saturday.
Jake and I descended directly into the food court, quiet and clean and ordered before the lunchtime onslaught. And, I noted as I discovered the full length windows at one end, surprisingly sunny.
The play area was deserted, save for the cubbyholes containing the weekend's left-behind sweaters, and ringed by a few tables of subdued folks meeting for breakfast. Even the television screens serving up E! News-like tidbits and infomercials had the volume turned down low.
To be honest, it was downright pleasant playing here with my child, surrounded by the breakfast grease smells of Chik-Fil-A and Panda Express. I applauded him as he slid face-first down the little slide, helped him scale the slippery bridge over the beaver dam, and thrilled at his uncharacteristic dare-devilishness when he climbed through the windows of the play fort.
And then I did something that still sort of amazes me, even though it was really fun. I took my son on a walk through the mall. I have tended, in the past five years or so, to find strolling through any mall more or less excruciating. So you can see why I am still sort of stunned at my decision. And at how much I enjoyed myself.
Like the other mall walkers, Jake climbed up the steps and ran down the ramps. He socialized with the senior citizens cooling down from their circuits. He even did a little window shopping. He was particularly entranced by the chalk-white, headless mannequins lounging near the front of the Banana Republic store.
"Wow," I thought, now one of those moms who takes her toddler to play -- not in the park, not in a sunny yard, not even at a kids museum -- at the mall. "I wish I had thought of this a long time ago."
We drove downtown to the 11:00 appointment listening to a podcast of Meg Wolitzer talking about her new novel about a group of women who give up their careers to be full-time mothers. I felt neither desperate to identify nor alienated from such women who can do what I plainly can not. Somewhere over the past sixteen months, I realized, I have given up feeling like I shouldn't need to bring my child to the mall, if that's what it takes to keep us both entertained.
Still, it was awfully nice hearing that evening from my friend who was thinking pretty much the same thing. Because we can all use a little reassurance.
Being True to Your Nature
My yoga teacher said something really lovely at the end of class today. She reminded us that it is the nature of our minds to think. Hence, in yoga, when we talk about "quieting" the mind, we don't expect ourselves to stop the thoughts flying about; we can't, because it's what our minds do. What we seek is simply the distance to observe the chatter so that we can separate from it and feel calm and centered.
This lesson explained why I have finally been able to surrender to taking Jake to the mall. I have accepted that it is just not in my nature to spend full days playing alone with my child. I'm even past wishing I could. Because, the part of me that can separate myself from my expectations of myself sees, it doesn't make me love him any less. It doesn't even make me any less of a mother.
We all know someone who is really great at playing with her kids. It's not necessarily that she's more creative than we are, or smarter, or even more playful. The thing that makes her so good at it is she loves it.
Bad movies about girls who want to be ballerinas aside, when we really love something, we tend to be good at it. If you're anything like me -- and I suspect most people are -- there's always room to doubt your abilities. But if you let yourself be absorbed in the enjoyment, it just doesn't matter. Time passes without your noticing, your mood improves, you feel happy to be alive.
This is not how I would describe myself when I was staying home full-time with Jake.
Who says the women who stay home are better mothers? Mostly, those of us who don't. When the truth is, they're just different mothers. We're all at our best -- as mothers and as people -- when we do what is true to our nature.
So next time you feel a rush of excitement as you head off to your office on Monday morning, don't get dragged down by guilt. Consider yourself an even better mother for doing what you love and bringing your balance and good cheer home to your child at the end of the day.
Play a Little: Parshvakakasana (sideways crow)
I'd better come clean here: I find arm balances fun. I love the floating and the falling, the craziness of rearranging my legs in the air while my hands hold me up and my face hovers inches from the floor. I guess it's just in my nature.
Of course, it was a very different story when I hadn't figured out how to do them. Bakasana, crow pose -- the foundation of all arm balances -- was mostly just a cause for frustration and fear. But then my practice changed -- my openness, my strength, my sense of balance -- and I got it. And I played.
So I offer parshvakakasana here for the sense of play it brings, as well as for the reminder that we all change, and that doors we didn't even notice open to us because of it. Many people find sideways crow more manageable than traditional crow, and even if you don't find yourself flying, you do get a nice twist and some arm strengthening. Both of which might come in handy next time you're home alone -- or at the mall -- playing with your child.
Parshvakakasana (sideways crow) instructions
1) Squat on your mat with your knees together and your hands on the floor in front of you for support. If you have never tried this pose before, you might want to place a folded blanket in front of you to calm any fears you might find of falling forward. Your heels should be off the floor as you rest on the balls of your feet.
2) Spend some time with your hand position, for this is the foundation of the pose and the key to all arm balances. Consciously place your hands in front of you on the mat. Make sure your hands are shoulder distance apart. Spread your fingers strongly. Your first fingers should point toward the front of the mat. Press into the space between your first fingers and thumbs. Then, keeping the strength in your hands, perform a shoulder loop: forward, up toward your ears, and really strongly down your back. As you do so, draw your elbows in toward your sides.
3) Keeping your hands and elbows strongly in place, turn your knees to the left, so the right side of your body is perpendicular to your arms.
4) When you are ready, lift your hips up so they are slightly higher than your arms. Your feet are still on the floor, with your knees slightly bent. If you are drawing your neck in like a turtle, consciously lengthen it. Think of your head as the top of a triangle, with your hands the base points. It may help to perform another strong shoulder loop here.
5) Draw your navel so strongly in toward your spine and up toward your heart that you feel your hips begin to lift of their own accord. Think of sending the energy into your kidney area -- the middle of your lower back -- as you shuffle your right knee onto your left tricep and rest your right hip on your right tricep.
(Advanced students will work toward performing the pose without resting the right hip on the right tricep.)
6) Feeling the sense of play, slowly let one or both feet lift off the floor. Although it seems counterintuitive, the best way to find your balance is to let your head and heart reach strongly in front of you as you keep your elbows in and your shoulders down your back.
Laugh whether you fall or fly, and repeat on the other side. If your kids are old enough, invite them to try parshvakakasana with you. Or maybe just to say it.
And when you're done, bow -- either physically or mentally -- to your true nature, whether it is to fly in ridiculous yoga poses or to stay a little closer to the ground.
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