Brit Bits Part Three: The Big Sheep

That's right, I said "Sheep", not "Sleep'.

The thing I can almost GUARANTEE you don't know about England (unless of course, you live there) is that there is SO MUCH TO DO if you have children. And, being it's a fairly small country (750 miles approximately from top to bottom and, on average, about 125 miles wide), wherever you're at there is always something close by.

One of the most ingrained memories from my childhood was summertime Sunday day trips with my parents. We would jump in the car and start driving, usually with no particular destination in mind. We would ALWAYS find something to do - a pretty village to explore, a summer fair, a castle, a stately home, a steam railway, a Roman ruin, an amusement park, a model village (haha, you've never heard of these have you?) a zoo, a safari or wildlife park, a petting farm... I could go on-and-on...

Most of these activities are relatively low cost and cater to a broad variety of age groups, so there is something for Granny, something for you 13 year old, and something for your toddler.

The Great British Day Out is really something I have missed. I was literally ACHING to share it with Daisy and Hubby.

When we arrived at Trimstone Manor, I immediately grabbed a ton of tourist brochures and set about determining where our first port-of-call would be. It was a difficult task, weeding through everything close by that I thought Daisy would enjoy - and of course, if we were willing to drive more than 90 minutes, there was even more I could have come up with. But given we'd already subjected the poor thing to a 24 hour travel day, I was looking closer-to-home.

Hence THE BIG SHEEP.

You can click the link to learn more about everything this theme park offers but basically it is a young child's fun zone, themed loosely around sheep and farms. I expected it to be an hour visit, maybe two, but we spent ALL DAY there. Daisy had a blast.

There were sheep to pet and feed, up close and personal.





There were fun little rides for Missy to mess around with









And most importantly, there were the bouncing cushions.





... which were even more attractive for being surrounded by a sand pit (sorry yanks, we don't have sand "boxes" in the UK.) Daisy LOVES sand. Or, at least, she does now. We could have done with that enthusiasm a year ago when we were in Jamaica.



It wasn't entirely clear if she loved the pillows or the sand best but it was her favorite spot in the park.

The frustrating thing, however, was watching all the other kids of the same or similar age bouncing around merrily on their own, while Daisy WHINED for me (or, when I forcefully abdicated responsibility, my Mum or husband) to go with her, hold her hand, or pick her up. Hence, it turned into my mission to get Daisy to bounce solo by the time we went home to the U.S. because it really sucks to be the only adult not enjoying a nice sit down while your kid runs off and happily joins in with the other kids.



(Clingyness and whinyness, as we well know, are on the top of my list of mummy no-nos. I just don't do them. Period.)

Just when you're ready to write your kid off as scared of her own shadow and completely unadventurous (yes, I jest... slightly) we head into the awesome indoor play area for lunch and some more fun.

Inside there was this really tall slide. You know, the kind with all the bumps and where you need to sit in a little mat to get from top to bottom? I looked at it and thought: NEVER. But I asked Daisy anyway. She said she would go with me. And so we did, me fully anticipating that we would get to the top and she would balk at the ride down, monkeying on me and screaming blue murder.

But she didn't.



And she went with Daddy too!





And, just like that, my faith in her was restored all over again.

She even went in the ball pit. (Albeit, with Daddy in tow - the only adult in the ball pit.)



If your kid is the sort of kid that naturally runs off to run, jump, climb, slide, swing, or explore, this may not seem like a big thing to you. But Daisy is not like that. Her first word is usually "no" (please, no commentary from my friends - I get the irony) and she is a tad cautious, generally speaking. As an only child, I worry she doesn't have a sibling egging her on and so she'll sit back and not try stuff. This is my BIGGEST parental fear, in fact; that she will let opportunities and experiences pass her by. I know, I gotta let it go a little bit because she is who she is but it doesn't mean to say I can't be happy when I see her try new things and jump in feet-first!

And so BIG SHEEP was a success. I always knew one of the main reasons I wanted to have a kid was to share things with him/her, to look at the world afresh through his/her eyes but I never realized just how amazingly fun and heart-fulfilling it would be to actually do it!

We were only on Day 2 and already the trip was turning out to be everything I hoped it would be, and more.

Tomorrow: Watermouth Castle where there was this....



and where we communed with gnomes.

(Hey, I said there was a lot to do, I didn't say some of it wasn't bizarre!)

Thought Provoking

This morning, while on my 5am walk, I listened to this segment on NPR about segregation in America. Apparently, the rate of integration in America has been slowing down since the sixties, to the point where 20-30 years from now, if we follow the same progression, we won't be much further along than we are today.

Ouch.

One of the metrics used in this study was the rate and volume by which whites integrate into majority black neighborhoods. And this brought me up short because, although I consider myself to be very multi-culturally minded and definitely not racist, I had to concede that I would likely not move into a predominantly African American neighborhood in America.

The thing that's hard to separate from race is socio-economic status. Typically (and I admit that this is a sweeping overgeneralization) African American neighborhoods are lower-income areas with higher crime rates. Regardless of the racial make-up. it just wouldn't make logical sense for me to move my family to that neighborhood when I make decent money and can move to a safer, albeit whiter, neighborhood.

It's a dilemma I'm sure many Americans face and it has no easy answer. Obviously, expecting middle-class white families to move into poorer but more racially diverse neighborhoods is not the answer. It's just not reasonable. Welcoming more races into my own neighborhood would be great but that is a whole other conversation about social mobility in America. It aint an easy conversation either since 'pulling yourself up by your own bootstraps' and 'gaining government assistance' seem to be the polarizing viewpoints that dominate the conversation.

But it bothers me that everyone I know on my street is white. I don't want Daisy to grow up thinking of blacks or hispanics or anyone as "other". I believe in equality pure and simple - no matter your color, beliefs, gender, sexual preference, nationality, or pretty much anything else you can think of - and my reaction to the reality of white integration was troubling to me.

Random thoughts with no conclusions. Interested to hear your perspective...

I do not have a problem with rich people but I do have a problem with rich people buying votes

There. I said it.

Meg Whitman and Carly Fiorina being on the other side of the political spectrum doesn't bother me. I don't agree with their stance on many things but that's ok - I don't agree with many people stance on many things. However, what irkles me no end, is the fact that they were able to buy votes in yesterday's primary election.

Arguably, you could say it was a middle-finger to traditional politicians and an embracing of corporate CEOs as the "solution" to the terrible mess we find California in. However, it is hard to argue with these numbers: MEG WHITMAN spent more than $71 million from her personal fortune to win votes and CARLY FIORINA spent $5 million, both women outspending their opponents by a margin that was beyond ridiculous.

Of course, you can't air radio and tv spots or organize a grass-roots effort without money but the whole concept of the political process is that spending is closely related to support via donations and is, therefore, somewhat an extension of the voting process itself.

What Whitman and Fiorina did was completely skip the grass-roots support completely and buy themselves exposure that had nothing to do with their ability to win hearts and minds. Meg in particular clogged up our TVs with a mud slinging campaign that made me sick to my stomach (egged on by her fellow-billionnaire opponent) and to the point where you could barely turn on a tv without being subjected to their torrent of insults. It was disgusting. I don't care what their politics are. And yet, by virtue of the fact that you just couldn't get away from her, she won votes. (I'm not saying some people didn't vote from an informed perspective but, hey, most of us can agree that's not the majority of the electorate.)

As for Carly, we all know that her votes came from being the "other" choice. She spent her millions just telling us that, if we didn't like the other guy, she was our only other option. When you can spend enough money to drown out all other voices, it's definitely easy to make it seem that way.

I used to like politics when I lived in England. Since I moved to the U.S.... notsomuch. It's a battle driven by personality, money and the deeds involved in getting it. Not that this isn't present in the UK at all but the political atmosphere is more driven by issues and money is not the deciding factor in any way, shape or form. (I could explain why but I won't bother you with a lesson on the British parliamentary system.)

At first when I moved out here, I couldn't understand the sense of apathy most people had to voting and the political process, or the disdain they had for politicians in general. Now I totally get it. After 15 years, I'm pretty sick of it myself. And if anyone thinks that corporate CEOs will be any less drawn into the political pitfalls that career politicians have been criticized for, they appear to be sorely mistaken. The recent cat fight played out on our TV sets makes that pretty clear.

Random thoughts on My Geography of Happiness

Right now I am reading a book by Eric Weiner called The Geography of Happiness. I wasn't too enthusiastic about it when I bought it; it sounded mildly interesting, was 50% off at Borders, and I badly needed something to read in the evenings to help me wind-down. However, I'm about 2/3 of the way through and am so glad I bought it and am reading it right now. It's perfect timing.


In the book, Weiner, who is a correspondent for NPR and a lifelong grouch, trots around the globe trying to find out what makes people happy (or unhappy, in some cases) in different countries and cultures, in an effort to determine whether there are universal conditions for happiness and, if so, where he might be able to find them and, therefore, "be happy."


The book initially appealed to me less from the perspective of really caring about the nature of happiness than because of the travel and culture components. I enjoy reading and learning about other cultures (which, in turn, is one of the reasons I love to travel) and I'm fascinated by how people, culture, and environment feed on and off of one another - also probably a lingering intellectual interest sparked by my degree in Media & Cultural Studies.

It has indeed been stimulating on this front but what has been most thought provoking for me is the way it has me thinking about my own road map for happiness, or, in the spirit of the book, my personal geography of happiness. Not in the sense of whether or not I'm happy but more in the sense of trying to understand what makes me happy and how I differ or identify with the different cultures in the book, especially since many of the countries Weiner visits are in Europe.

I'm not done with the book yet and so I'm saving any conclusions for the last page but here is what has occurred to me so far:

Happiness to me is fleeting and morphous. It's not a destination or a permanent state but a mood, just like sadness, anger, frustration etc... I suppose I could say I would think someone is "happy" based upon whether their general disposition is more happy than sad but I think that's oversimplifying things a tad.

Although we all definitely have our list of things that bring us joy, or make us "happy", I think whether or not those things make us happy greatly depends on many things on any given day - hormones, the weather, the mood of those around us, the news, the time of year, external events or circumstances... For instance, I love to read, it engrosses and stimulates me in a way that no other medium can BUT if I've had a particularly stressful day, reading can actually make me irritated. Similarly, I don't like to drink water as a rule, it makes me feel sick. But, on a really hot day, when I'm physically active, nothing tastes better. These things bring me joy under certain cirumstances and so what happiness is to me is constantly changing.

Yet, happiness should not be confused with joy. Too many people spend their life searching for a constant state of elation and wind up feeling disappointed when it eludes them. Whether it be drug addicts looking for the greater high or consumers trying to buy their way into happiness with the most expensive designer item or coolest gadget, our society encourages us to find "things" to make us happy but leaves us a state of perpetual wanting when the "high" fades. One of the common threads between the happiest countries on earth, Weiner seems to be finding, is contentment through moderation of emotion - highs and lows. The Swiss, for instance, are (based upon data and Weiner's own research) a happy nation but it's not as if they run around in a perpetually happy mood, singing at the tops of their voices and smiling all day. They're just in that nice middle place, perhaps you could say well-balanced.

Balance seems to be the key overall, in fact, although Weiner has not specifically addressed it that way. Balance between home and work life, public and private life, capitalism and socialism, individualism and collectivism, seems to show up in many different ways in the book. As an example, the folks of Iceland consistently score high on the happiness scale, even despite living in a freezing cold country that is pitch black for several months out of the year. One of the reasons they cite for their happiness is the fact that their social safety net gives them the freedom to fail and therefore the freedom to take chances. As an example, many Icelandic people have several different careers throughout the course of their life. Without the concerns we have here in the States like losing health insurance if we quit our job, they lack the fear or dire consequences of trying something new. As a result, there is a thriving spirit of entrepreneurism and artistic talent in Iceland right now - the culture of the starving writer just doesn't exist in their country. All an example of where a more socialist system (than the U.S.) actually promotes greater individualism and risk-taking.

In addition to thinking about the nature of happines, the book has also cued my reticular activator and has started me thinking about when I am happy.

It's been a rough few weeks over here in Randomrantville with things you know and more you don't, and it's tempting to pile one negative event on top of the other, wringing one's hands in despair at the state of life, as well as worrying about all the potential outcomes of the future. But allowing unrelated bad events to build on one another is just like allowing physical pain to build and take over your psyche. Having had two recent surgeries, I know about this and I know you need to get ahead of the pain, take each day as it comes, and not allow yourself to pile-up the bad stuff. The same is true of life in general, I think.

It's funny but when I make a list of the last twelve months and all the events in it, I'd like to bet that my list of happy events at least equals, if not exceeds, my list of unhappy ones. Yet, it's only the bad events that we group together, no matter how unrelated, saying things like we've had "a run of bad luck"; it becomes the story of a period of time in our lives, like, for instance, my last few weeks: Mum breaks hip and has surgery, we cancel our trip, we all get stomach flu for New Year = a bad holiday. But it's very rarely that we line up those positive events and amass them into a narrative. What about if instead I wrote: Bought new car, Daisy's first Christmas, my first time cooking Christmas dinner, saved $3k on vacation and now have something to look forward to in March. These things all happened at the same time as the bad stuff but yet the negative events are the ones that somehow end up defining. I wonder why that is? Misery loves company, I guess.

I don't have a closing thought here, these are just random ramblings right now, spurred by the book.

One idea I am going to put into action, provoked by the book, is journaling things that make me happy every day. In research, people who kept a journal of things that made them happy every day are more likely to report increased levels of overall happiness, than those who do not keep a journal. Since I have two blogs, two twitter accounts, and two Facebook accounts, I don't think a journal, per se, is needed, so what I'm going to do instead is create a list here on this site of things that have made me happy each day. You can see it over there on the right. We'll see if it reveals anything about me, my life, or my levels of happiness.

Anyway, it's late (for me late is 9pm) and I need to go wind-down before bed. Feel free to comment and share your thoughts on happiness!
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1/8/09 - Edited to add: although the book spends all it's time talking specifically about happiness, the book itself is actually called "The Geography of Bliss", if you're looking for it.

The story of who I am

The story of who I am consists of a chapter about how I just don't tune into other people's feelings and emotions. Although I have played along with this with many of my friends for a long time, I have recently decided that this is a load of codswallap (to coin an English phrase.)

Reason number one for the cod is that this is a relatively new chapter, one that has emerged since I moved to the U.S. There were many stories of who I was back in the U.K. but this was not one of them. So, it got me to thinking that either something drastic changed in my personality immediately after I moved to rhe U.S. (possible but unlikely), that the story was untrue, or that there was some underlying cultural factor that was leading me to be misunderstood.

After my soul-searching and self-analysis I realize that this is one of those areas in life where I have been (and continue to be) classically misunderstood.

For those of you who don't know many Brits, you don't understand how people are back where I was brought up. The expression "chin-up" is the best way to begin: when a friend or family member is going through a rough time, it's generally accepted that you bitch along with them to a certain extent and then tell them that it will all turn out alright in the end. Support is considered to be bolstering one's friends' outlook on the problem, not wallowing in the mud with them. We're a nation of eternal optimism underneath our grouching. Nobody expects much sympathy or empathy; people get on with it because they know there really is little else choice. A good friend "snaps you out of it".

This doesn't translate to the U.S.

When trying to deliver the same friendly support in the U.S., it's interpreted as insensitive. People out here want empathy, they want sympathy, they want you to emotionally connect with their feelings, their problem, they want you to cry along with them. In short: they want you to be their own personal Oprah.

Don't get me wrong, I am not downplaying the importance of empathy or sympathy or judging the American psyche negatively here, just pointing out a major difference and trying to explain that this is not what I was brought up to do. It's not what my culture does. It's not in my DNA.

But, does it mean I'm insensitive or that I can't tune into other people's emotions? NO. IT. DOES. NOT.

An experience with a good friend in the last few years taught me this lesson that I have only recently been able to see with clarity, in hindsight. I thought I was being supportive at a difficult time in every way I knew how. She thought I was being insensitive and expecting too much of her (as if my "chin up" attitude were a critique on her emotionality.) The reality was that I was being supportive but in the way I knew how, just not the way she wanted me to be.

Of course, there are lessons for me to learn here about how to look at people as individuals and try to understand what they need from me as opposed to using a cookie-cutter approach for each friend or loved-one in my life. BUT there are also lessons to be learned on the other side of the equation and, some experiences of my own in the last two weeks have made me realize this acutely: Just because someone does not give you exactly the kind of support you want in your time of need, it does not mean that they do not care. The "understanding the other person" equation is not a one-way street. Sometimes, when you feel someone doesn't understand or "get" you, it could be just as true that you are not understanding or "gettting" them.

Anyone who has known me intimately for any length of time knows that I am generally thoughtful, loving, and loyal as a friend or family member. Yes, I am also frank-speaking, sometimes tactless, and often put my foot in my mouth but we're talking about the difference between intention and action here. The people closest to me, I am confident, would say that I am insightful into other's motives and personalities and that I understand (and empathize with) far more than people expect of me on the surface. (If you don't think this then I'm open to hearing about it but suggest that perhaps you haven't taken the time to know me the way you expect to be known yourself.) How this comes out, how I embody this, may, however, be different to what's expected in the U.S.

I take that onboard and I look to find ways to be a better friend, wife, and family-member every day. BUT, I still say phooey to the story that I am not sensitive or tuned into other people's emotions. I am re-writing this story. If you have been a contributer to my narrative, wipe this slate clean.

Overcommitted and overscheduled?

Those of you who know me pretty well know that I make an effort to see my friends, in person, as regularly as possible. Lately, however, it has really struck me just how hard it is to get together with people.

I shared a string of several emails today with a friend who really did want to see me (ie: wasn't just blowing me off) but where her schedule and mine just failed to coordinate for multiple reasons. By the time we were done, we were booking ourselves 3-4 weeks out! The same thing happened just last week with some friends that usually get together as a group - we threw some dates out there for the month of November (remembering this is still only October) and could only come up with one day that worked for everyone. One day... out of 30!?

When I was at home in England, I just don't remember people's lives being this way. But then, maybe I was just a teenager with no responsibilities, who was friends with a bunch of other teenagers with no responsibilities. I don't know, but my recollection was that friends dropped-by on one another unannounced or called each other at 6 o'clock to decide to get together for a drink in an hour. What I remember is that people decided to go to the pub after work and just invited people on the spur of the moment - and people were available, and came!

Yet, since I've lived in the U.S., that kind of social life just doesn't seem to exist, or at least, rarely. People are scheduled to the hilt three, four weeks in advance (sometimes more) and if you don't make the effort and plan ahead it's easy to just lose touch as the weeks and months slip by.

Now, I'm not saying that my schedule is always open either - in fact it's a tad packed for the next week or so - but it just brings up the question: why is this? Why is it that people in the UK have much more spontaneous social lives and people in the U.S. (at least the way I've experienced it) end up running their calendars like a military operation?