Week 31: an unusual mother figure
When I was pregnant with my first child I went through a brief attempt to watch all movies that had won the Best Picture Oscar. I made it through a few, and Antonia’s Line was among them. In this Dutch movie there is an amazing mothering scene, where a young girl realizes soon after giving birth that she would rather spend her time solving mathematical puzzles than raising her baby. So her mother and grandmother take over. Everyone is happy, including the child. And the mother spends lots of time with her child, just not parenting time.
She’s an unusual mother figure and I have spent a lot of time thinking about this story since becoming a parent. Truth is, I’m not shocked by the young lady’s choice. Parenting is just one piece of me, and the other pieces are just as primal. There’s the cerebral piece of me – the one that likes to solve hard conceptual problems. There’s the explorer piece of me – the one that likes to wander in new places and find something new or unnoticed previously. There’s the quiet piece of me – the one that loves being alone. And there’s the partner piece of me – the one that thrives on companionship with my college sweetheart. These facets coexist, and parenting has enhanced many of them. But I’ve also needed to protect them from my parenting duties and emotions. Here are a few things I do to give wings to all pieces of me:
1)Sacred Monday mornings: funny how the emotional quality of time changes depending on your life circumstances. I used to resent Monday mornings – the shock from having to adopt weekly rituals after the week-end’s amorphous flow. Now I love them. Both kids are out of the house by 9:00 and I work from home – to relish my quiet adult space. Before I sit at my computer, I do a few stretches, tidy my room and office, and brew a slow cup of tea. I then jump into the most challenging quantitative or conceptual work I have for the week, leveraging my appetite for serious stuff after two days of laughter and funny business with kids.
2) Piles of novels: to wind down, my husband likes to watch T.V. at night. This does not work for me. I read books, novels preferably. My bedside table is a mountain of books , as my son curls up in bed with me for his bedtime story, and I slip back under the covers a few hours later when it’s time for my dance with words. My love of novels and short stories dates back to my earliest memories, and I’m amazed at this consistency. I have favorite bookstores in every city I’ve lived in.: I always find the store where the owner writes little hand written notes about recent novels she has enjoyed. Doesn’t have to be a big bookstore, or even particularly intellectual. Just has to be small and personal. Here they are:
- Paris – Dom Tom, 81 rue St Dominique, 75007, Paris
- London – (this is my all time favorite) Daunt Books on Marelybone High Street
- San Francisco – Phoenix Books on Valencia and on 24th street
3) Walk to work: when I moved to the United States to honor my husband’s desire to live in the Silicon Valley, I lay down two rules. We visit France twice a year and I will never drive to work. I’m a terrible driver and I hate being in a car. Conversely, I love public transit and walking. San Francisco is a lovely city for this – it’s usually crisp and sunny, and the streets are animated and quite green. It’s not as beautiful as Paris, nor as perfectly landscaped as London (my favorite walking cities) but it’s great for regular day dreaming – which is what I do when I walk (don’t listen to music, don’t talk on phone, don’t rush).
4) Saturday night date night: I have written about this already here.
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