What I Am Doing About Nature Deficit Disorder

June 14, 2015September 10, 2015 ~ theantelopediaries ~ 2 Comments

There has been a lot of attention over the past decade to a phenomena labeled “nature deficit disorder.” It is the idea that children are spending less and less time outdoors, more and more time indoors interacting with electronic devices (hmmm….) and that this has implications for their emotional and physical health.

I tend to agree. I have been one that is attracted to the outdoors. For example, I love to camp. I don’t like not having access to a hot shower for five minutes in the morning, but some of the feelings I get after three days of camping (it takes me that long to “detox”) are purification, peace, connection with my surroundings, and understanding. Maybe one can get that in expensive hotel rooms with a spa, but I can’t afford that. Being in dirt is a great alternative in terms of results.

I used to work with an African-American woman who came to work each day as if dressed for a fashion show. She wore high heals, ornate earrings, and had long nails which she had manicured professionally weekly. She was also overweight, but didn’t seem to mind it. She flaunted her body. Every summer we had a barbecue for clients at the health clinic where we worked. It was held in a city park behind our building. We took turns barbecuing while taking care of needs back at the office. On one occasion where our times overlapped, I remember her looking around at the big trees and commenting, “This is nice.” She didn’t say this in an off-hand way, but like she meant it. Ms. Fashionista was moved and I realized that nature can touch all kinds of people.

More interestingly to me is the phenomena that people are not comfortable being around nature. I remember taking a walk in a park with another friend of mine through some Madrone trees. Madrone trees shed bark and I was pulling off some of them. The bark was very thin, like paper. Pulling on the bark was mildly therapeutic because it made me feel like I was releasing the tree from its harness to reveal more of the soft, beautiful bark underneath.

“Stop it,” she said.

“Why?” I asked.

I don’t remember the precise reason she gave, but it made her very uncomfortable that I was interacting with nature in such a way. From my point of view, the tree was shedding bark anyway, so why not help it along? I offered her the bark in my hand, but she didn’t even want to touch it. And she is from Montana! Coming from a city that has more residents than the entire state of Montana, I thought people from big nature states were naturally close to nature. Befriending her made me realize that just because you live in a state that sounds synonymous with nature doesn’t mean you actually interact with it.

It is important to me that Polina grow up not only feeling comfortable around nature, but having her own relationship with it. I consider being in nature to be the absence of cars, people, buildings and electrical poles. It is vital to my soul. The experience of it resides in my imagination and it’s where I seek solace even when I am away from it. However, I am terrible when it comes to naming things in nature. I know a few plants, but I can’t distinguish a Douglas from a Fir tree, and I live in the Pacific Northwest. Naming it hasn’t been as important as feeling it. I live up in the clouds that way.

I know nothing about the soil, except that it needs water, maybe some lime and compost. I’ve never actually grown anything myself, but I have maintained established plants in my home for several years. That is one of the things I am working on as we work on our home. My mother grew tomatoes and lettuce on our balcony in the apartment we lived in. I didn’t take an interest then, preferring to eat the produce instead. But now, in middle age, I do have an interest.

The week before Memorial Day, Polina and I went camping in the same spot we went 20 months earlier. We had our time together and our time side by side, each enjoying nature in our own way. Except for a flip phone and an occasional internet check in at the local library, we were without electronic disturbances. Here are some pictures from the trip, along with some flashbacks.

Polina next to our tent in September 2013, wearing the same pants.

Hunting for Easter Eggs

April 6, 2015September 10, 2015 ~ theantelopediaries

We celebrated Easter today. Not in a religious way. We didn’t go to church (although my husband said he thought about it.) But we did get dressed up and go Easter egg hunting in our yard.

This was Polina’s first Easter egg hunt. I deliberately avoided public Easter egg hunts because Polina is new to this “sport” and I didn’t want her to be in competition with other kids. Sure enough, when we embarked on the Easter egg hunt (with both cameras rolling, mine and Pete’s) Polina took her sweet old time. She picked up an egg and opened it. Then she picked up another egg and opened it. I could see this would take a while.

“Polina, why don’t I hold the basket while you pick up the eggs?” I offered.

She let me hold the basket while she put in one or two eggs, but then she understood the concept. She took the basket away from me and ran looking for the colored plastic eggs.

“More. More,” she said after she picked up each one.

It’s interesting what we teach our children. Here she was innocently picking up each egg and actually curious about what was inside of it. In a few short minutes, we taught her how to find satisfaction in the facade. She became busy finding the eggs first while her initial curiosity about its contents became secondary.

I may be reading too much into it, and that’s okay, because that’s the type of person I am. Sometimes I overanalyze. But then I see kids push each other down in a competitive spirit and I think we as a society need to do more analyzing about what we’re doing, and it starts with parenting.

Next year, I’m going to let her take her sweet old time, no matter how long it takes.

Here are a few pictures from the expedition

The innocence of opening each egg to know what's inside, and not knowing that she is standing next to a blackberry bush. Hey! Who put them there? — The innocence of opening each egg to learn what’s inside, and not knowing that she is standing next to a blackberry bush. Hey! Who put the eggs there?

What My Daughter Has Taught Me About the Other Side

January 18, 2015September 10, 2015 ~ theantelopediaries

I’ve heard it said that babies are closest to the “other side,” because they are newly born. I’ve also heard it said that the reason that newborns sleep so much is because they are still connected to that “other side.” Too bad they can’t talk yet. Oh the stories they might tell. I don’t have a strong opinion about the “other side.” However, by observing my daughter, I’ve came to some conclusions as to what the other side may have looked like to her, before it was affected by the physical laws of this earth.

What I’ve learned from Polina is that the other side is infinite.

I realized this when, not long after we started potty training, she began spinning the roll of toilet paper so that it all fell on the floor. One time I stood at the sink doing my business when I looked over to see half the roll gone from her spinning. “Polina!” I cried. After a couple instances of this (before we put up a gate), it occurred to me that in her world, there is an infinite amount of toilet paper. In my mind, I have x number of rolls. Polina doesn’t care about that. She doesn’t know that there is an “end” to toilet paper, and if there is, so what? She doesn’t know that toilet paper costs money. (Have you looked at the price of toilet paper recently?) All she knows is how fun it is to spin the roll.

Then I was faced with a dilemma: to let her spin, or not to spin. Here’s why it was a dilemma for me: This is probably the last period in her life where she will actually enjoy spinning toilet paper. It brought such a huge smile to her face. Can I sacrifice one roll, one roll to let her have, what looks like, ecstasy? I know teenagers like to throw toilet paper onto trees. I’ve never done it, so I don’t know if it’s as much fun as what Polina appears to be experiencing.

Every part of my body was telling me not to allow her to spin because it is so contrary to sensible behavior. But I wasn’t thinking of it how it appears here, on our side. On her side, the roll is infinite, money is no issue.

Another example of the infinite- she scribbles on one page of drawing paper, then turns to the next for another small scribble, and so on. I try to direct her to draw more on the same page as opposed to “wasting” paper. Then again, she doesn’t know that paper is finite or costs money. In her world, paper is infinite.

Stickers also appear to be infinite. It used to be that when she went on the potty, she was happy with one sticker. Then one day I gave her two, and then she asked for more. From then on, it was wage inflation. One day, she persuaded me to give her the whole roll of stickers. It was difficult to watch, but fortunately I paid only a dollar for 300 of them.

I come from a culture of scarcity. Most Russians are shaped by the history of World War II, famine, and communism. It’s in our DNA, so to speak. The result? We don’t throw good things away, and certainly don’t waste things. Have a spot on an apple? We cut it out. I remember sitting with a Russian woman in her 60s as she cut the bad spots off an apple. By the time she was done with it, there was hardly anything left to the apple, but she still put it on a serving plate. Looking at what was left of the apple, it was one of those situations that could have been interpreted as comic, tragic, or both. This was in 2014. “There’s no famine,” my husband reminds me. He doesn’t understand. It’s the possibility of it happening, and the fact that it did happen. Cutting away at the apple honors those who came before us, whether they lived or died.

In Polina’s world, there is no famine. Food is always in abundance. (Kind of my husband’s way of thinking.) She doesn’t eat for the future (eat beyond full so you’re not hungry later). She expects that there is food all the time.

On the other hand, when she really likes something, she stuffs it in her mouth and asks for more, as she does with chocolate. Does she really think she can stuff herself with chocolate and get more? How much can a little girl eat? At age two, she is tall and thin, but I think she could have eaten all of our reserves of chocolate.

In Polina’s world, time is infinite. “I have to get ready Polina.” “I have to do chores, Polina.” “Polina, we have to get ready.” Nope, not in Polina’s world. There are no clocks, only present desires. Who cares if your mother wants to go to the gym and wakes up two and a half hours earlier and still doesn’t make it on time. There’s something wrong with that scenario in my world, but not in Polina’s. Time is infinite and therefore nobody ever runs late.

To support her side means she is less prepared for our side. To support our side means she loses connection with her side and then spends lots of time and money seeking spiritual fulfillment in adulthood. Ugh, the dilemma of it all.

I’ve also learned that there is no separation on the other side.

I know this because my daughter clings to me. She clung to me as a baby, and I let her have me. The few times I went out for a “break,” my husband called asking me to come back, because Polina was screaming from the separation. Most moms I know let their children scream because a) they need a break and b) they believe it teaches their child independence. Me, I was and am a wuss. I was her primary provider for almost a year and a half. Polina can handle separation from me now, but sometimes she still clings to me. I do my best to accommodate, but it’s painful to hear her cry when I have to wash the dishes, or work on our new 47-year old house. Independence means separation, which, when my daughter doesn’t want it, means pain, as reflected in her eyes and her crying. I’m not religious, but I think “God” must have always been there. That’s why separation is so difficult on this side. It’s not fun for me either.

There is way more love on the other side than there is here.

At some point, the honeymoon of having a baby ends and the character building, for both sides begins. It’s akin to two knives sharpening each other. My two-year-old’s will is sometimes stronger than mine. I don’t know how she does it. It bothers me that she convinces me to do things I don’t want to do, like read nine books before bed when I only planned to read half that amount.

Another example of this? Polina doesn’t understand the effect her crying has on me. My loving nature runs out and I have to take a break. For anyone who has seen or experienced it, the patience to perfectly parent a two year old is amazing.

Other references from the other side include:

If Polina could talk, I think she would sometimes ask me,“Why can’t you understand me?” Because I’m not an omniscient God. You have to use your words Polina. Your mind is becoming more advanced and I can’t always guess correctly what you want anymore.

“Why can’t you bear my crying?” Because I’m not omnipotent or as loving as God; because He has more patience, as demonstrated by your expectations. I wish I was more loving. Then I would never be frustrated when you cry. You are teaching me love, but it is I whose responsibility it is to provide it.

Another reason why I think people are embellished with love on the other side is because children are not born to appease you. They expect you to appease them. In other words, babies love you conditionally. Watch their reaction when you don’t give them something they want. Polina turns her back and cries. If I give in, there is a conciliatory look, and sometimes a smile, behind the glossy eyes where the tears had been. She is used to having everything she wants in all of its manifestations.

This list is by no means complete. These are just my observations as of this date.

Originally written on August 24, 2014

My Little Epiphany About God

September 22, 2014July 4, 2016 ~ theantelopediaries

I had a small epiphany today that I wouldn’t have had if I were not a parent. I thought about God and how often people pray or ask Him for things, and it occurred to me that maybe He is just tired, like any parent would be about their child’s desires that don’t fit their game plan. Perhaps He is even tired of our crying and misbehavior. Maybe that is why there is so much misfortune in the world. God is just worn out from being a parent to all these children.

The Germ of Human Dignity

June 20, 2014September 11, 2015 ~ theantelopediaries

I was just looking at video of Polina’s first days on this planet. I am beaming as I hold her in my arms shortly after birth. She is wrapped in a blanket and is wearing a beanie hat on her head. Watching that video reminded me how elated I was when she was born, how small her hands and feet were, and how I marveled at her tiny nails. It lasted such a short time. Even when she was a newborn, she was strong, lean but sturdy. She was not a helpless baby. That surprised me. And now, as she is growing, she is a willful child. She is strong, tall, and confident. It reminds me of the human “dignity” I heard about at a Catholic university I attended. She exudes dignity. Open. Honest. Unafraid. No one has taken it away from her, and I pray no one ever does.

Originally written April 6, 2014.

The Antelope Diaries

Existential Stories About Parenting

Spirituality

What I Am Doing About Nature Deficit Disorder

Hunting for Easter Eggs

What My Daughter Has Taught Me About the Other Side

My Little Epiphany About God

The Germ of Human Dignity