Hi all, hope your October has been going swimmingly! I haven’t done a “Changing My Life” post in a while—some idea or item that’s been changing my life lately. But today I’m here with an idea that might help you enjoy this fine October Saturday just a tiny bit more.
Whether you’re out pumpkin-patching, apple-picking, soccer tournament-momming, or just generally living your best #Fall life, here’s an important truth to remember: family excursions can really suck.
Unrealistically high expectations slam up against differing definitions for what constitutes a “fun” or “relaxing” day. Tack on some garden-variety exhaustion and maybe some weather that’s hotter or wetter or windier than you’d hoped… and it can end up quite the shit show.
I’ve lived this crash and burn reality a few times traveling with my family in Paris and Normandy for the past 9 days.
(And if you read “Paris” and now have visions of a happily grinning family soaking up Parisian sights and excitedly gazing at Masterworks together, then buckle up, because your high expectations are just about to violently clash with reality.)
Our family’s particular four-car pile-up came at the Opera Garnier—a 19th-century wedding cake of a building created specifically to mesmerize and astound in its lavish detail and ornate artistry. As we donned the multimedia screens and headsets we were given at the entrance, I was already itching to run my hands over the smooth marble balustrades and bask in the massive Chagall ceiling mural. The minute I heard the jaunty music and genteel narrator’s voice piping through the headphones, I was ready for the time of my life.
My kid, however, was not. She’d been moaning since we’d left the apartment that day. And the neither the entrance’s frolicking music-themed statues nor the chipper narrator’s stories of high-society’s hey days seemed to be doing much to shake her out of her moodiness.
At one point, she thought I’d left her behind in the crush of gawkers, and she caught up with me on the verge of tears. Please, she pleaded, please couldn’t we just leave? “This is boring!” She wailed, “I don’t want to stay here!”
I stood at the foot of the opera house’s Grand Staircase rubbing her back with one hand while intermittently peeking at the multimedia guide in my other, trying to read what it said about the gold leaf and ceiling frescoes swirling above me.
I longed to already be up on that staircase, gazing down from the upper balconies, or poking around in the theater box that inspired the Phantom of the Opera. But my kid was ready to hurl her audio guide into the Seine and catch the next flight home.
I weighed my options. Most days, my default mode is “fixer.” When the people I love are mad or sad, it’s instinctive for me to stop whatever I’m doing and figure out the “fix,” even if it means compromising my own desires. My kid was tired and bored and most definitely not enjoying herself. I decided to try a pep talk.
Sweetie, we came all this way! Don’t you want to enjoy it?
As the words left my mouth, I suddenly realized they weren’t for her. They were for me. I had come all this way. I absolutely did want to enjoy this.
I hugged my daughter again. “I’m sorry you’re having a hard time. Do you want to just hang out here and I’ll come get you after a few minutes?” She nodded miserably, but still clung to my arm, not wanting me to go. I determinedly extricated myself from her grasp and made my way up the first landing, keeping one eye on her cloudy face in the swirl of bodies below, and one eye on the soaring magnificence up ahead.
When I got to the top, I took a deep breath and turned in a slow circle, taking in the scene around me. Then, as I let my eyes drift higher and higher, I let my “mom mode” switch momentarily to off.
The thing is, we can’t force the people we love to relax or have fun or enjoy something. Maybe my daughter would recover in a few minutes and begin enjoying the day, and maybe she wouldn’t.1 Sometimes the best we can do we can do is figure out how we want to feel, and to honor that.
So, in the middle of the grand staircase of the Opera Garnier, while my daughter sniffled one floor below, I did something that felt a bit radical—I let myself feel all the joy, awe and inspiration I wanted to feel. I raised my phone and snapped the damn selfie—of me, in this moment, having the feeling I came all the way here to have.
So, if your pumpkin patch moment falls to pieces this weekend, or your kid melts down so hard on Halloween they need to be carried home before it even gets dark out, you could try what I’ve tried to do all over Paris this week.
Let your “mom mode” (or your “caretaking mode” or people-pleasing mode) switch off for a minute. Untether yourself briefly from the part of your brain that’s constantly scanning for what others are thinking, wanting, needing, or preferring. And tune into the feeling you want to have for a moment.
Of course you care about those people you came with. But it’s okay to also care about yourself. We can give ourselves permission to look up and around at this great big, gorgeous world and enjoy it, even if the people we’re with aren’t quite there at the moment.
And if we want, we can even decide to just take the damn selfie.
She did. For awhile, at least. ;)
Awesome truth! I’ve had to learn in a whole new way with adult kids. Including not dreaming up big adventures they would never enjoy in the first place! ❤️❤️❤️
Yes! I’ve learned over the years it’s hard to get 4 people onboard to enjoy the same thing, whether it’s a restaurant or a vacation location. I’ve don’t many vacations “for the kids.” A few years ago I️ made the boldest move of my life and took a solo trip to Rome to visit all the art I️ learned about in my college art history class. It was amazing! I️ even got to meet a friend from an online workshop IRL! Highly recommend!