Browsing

Huh?  Whoa. Where am I?

Last I remember, I was checking my email.  An hour and a half later, I came to consciousness and found myself mindlessly clicking through photo galleries of homes for sale. 

How did I get here? 

Fuzzily, I remember checking Facebook, then following a link to a YouTube video of a teenage girl from Canada speaking about environmental degradation at a UN Earth Summit.  The video made me cry, which reminded me that I wanted to read more about Highly Sensitive People.  Then, after reading that one of the "Top Ten Survival Tips for the Highly Sensitive" is to surround yourself with beauty and nature, I thought maybe it would be good for my mental health if I were to buy a house near a park.  (I’m like the next in the series of “If You Give a Pig a Pancake” books:  “If You Give Jodi a Facebook Account…”)

And it’s not the first time something like this has happened.  I do this sort of thing in the real world as well as the online world.

Sometimes I’ll go to run a quick errand, like buying toothpaste, so I stop at Bartell’s and then I think, “Well, since I’m here, I guess I should look around and see what else I might need.”  An hour and a half later, I’m standing dazed and confused in the Random Seasonal Items aisle holding a super-soaker squirt gun in one hand and a bocce ball set in the other.  My phone is ringing -- it’s my husband with two crying kids in the background, wondering where in the heck I am with the toothpaste.  And I should NEVER be allowed to go to stores like Target or Fred Meyer where a person can bump into hammocks and tiki torches on her way to the diaper aisle.  (The vision of spending my days lounging in a hammock is my personal nirvana.  Tiki torches are optional.)

I’ve noticed that there is usually a precursor to my distracted wanderings.  Sometimes I feel an undefined restlessness.  A vague itch that needs to be scratched, but I’m not clear about exactly how to scratch it.  So I wander and browse.  The restless urge to do something, without an idea of what, finds me poring over racks of clothes I don’t want, flipping through magazines full of people I can’t relate to, and clicking my way through web page after web page of information I don’t need to know. Wandering aimlessly with no direction.  Squandering my time. 

But I’m slowly learning that wherever I’m browsing, I’m unlikely to find what I’m looking for.   If I slow down and focus on the itch -- spend some real quality time with the itch, instead of immediately grabbing my back scratcher (or mouse, or debit card) and mindlessly scratch-scratch-scratching, I often notice that the itch is actually a need.  And it's not a need for some new skinny jeans, or ninjabread men cookie cutters or a sweet hammock (ok, well maaaybe it is a need for a sweet hammock). 

I might need to get some exercise.   Maybe I need to connect with friends.  I might need to take a walk in a park (so much easier and cheaper than buying a new house).  I might need to spend some quality time with my husband or my kids.  Maybe I need to write in my journal or call an out-of-town loved one.  I might need to have some quiet time alone.  

Of all the possible things that I might need, these items are glaringly missing from the list:

•  To research online all the possible illnesses I may have
• To read 148 reviews of 16 different makes and models of toaster ovens
• To find out what has happened on Facebook since I checked 15 minutes ago
• To watch a YouTube video of a skateboarding bulldog
• To fondle clothes that I don’t plan to buy
• To purchase clothes that I’m certain to return 

Don’t get me wrong.  Browsing has its place. Shopping isn’t necessarily a vice.  We need to buy things, and it can be fun to make a new purchase.   And online browsing can be useful and entertaining.  I love seeing what friends are up to on Facebook, and there is a ton of information to be gleaned from articles and blogs.  (For example, I just learned that a small dog named Honey Bun recently ate $10,000 worth of diamonds.  Isn't that interesting?)

But I’m getting better at recognizing when the itch to browse is really an urge for something else.   And when it is, instead of browsing, I plan a date with my husband, take a walk, organize some friend-time, or read a book. 

Then again, sometimes all I really need to feel better is a video of a toddler in a Tigger costume dancing to the Bee Gees’ “Stayin’ Alive.”  (Whether you're a brother or whether you're a mother, you're stayin' alive, stayin' alive.  Feel the city breakin' and everybody shakin', we're stayin' alive, stayin' alive.  Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive. Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin' ali-i-i-i-ve!)

Running Ragged

While serious athletes are running, biking or lifting weights to get in shape for their upcoming races, my training schedule includes stumbling barefoot onto small, pointy, hard-plastic animals (rhinoceroses and triceratops come to mind), startling awake four or more times a night to the blood-curdling screech of a toddler, and eternally attempting to finish a sentence.

How on earth does this get me in better shape, you ask?  It's simple.  The daily rigamarole of parenting, with all of its trials and its challenges, actually makes me stronger, hardier, more tenacious.

OK, I'm nowhere near a serious athlete.  I'm not a racer. I'm a finisher.  I've (slowly) completed a few half-marathons and a handful of sprint triathlons.  "Sprint" refers to the length of the race (short) and not the speed I race them.  I am definitely not sprinting.  Lollygagging might be a more accurate term.  If they offered lollygag triathlons, I'd sign up for those.

Even before I had children, I undertrained. I'd search online for training schedules, find the easiest one, and then remove anything that looked difficult or complicated (hill repeats, track workouts, any of those "10 x 300" thingies), until I came up with a manageable schedule.  Then I would go forth with my modified schedule, and proceed to cheat on that.  This type of training allowed me to be just prepared enough to make it across the finish line without quiiite puking.

But since having kids, the training schedules I find online look completely out of whack with my reality. When could I possibly find time to do all of that?  So this time, I chucked the suggested schedule and created from scratch a schedule that fits into my busy life.  I named this schedule "Jodi's Barely-Crawl-Over-the-Finish-Line Training Schedule."  It's perfectly doable and nowhere near the level of training I would need to finish an event comfortably.

Aha, but here is where my Secret Training Weapon comes in...  My kids.

It's true!  Before having kids, my long runs were exhausting.  I felt like I had to wring out every last drop of energy just to finish the final mile.  Now, those same runs seem so tranquil -- such a reprieve! -- I barely notice I'm running.  It's amazing!  I can think in complete sentences.  There are no tiny people tugging on my shirt, beseeching, "Mommy... Mommmmy... MOMMMMMMYYYYY!"

My first race after giving birth to my son was a 10K.  I placed 2nd in my age division. Ok, there were only like five people in my age division, but still.  My time for the race was a personal record.  Why?  I had gotten tougher.  I was able to push myself a little harder through the entire race.  For that I thank my pint-sized personal trainer, who woke us up crying (I'm sure it was a motivational yell) every hour or two all night long for two months, refused to ever ride in a stroller, and screamed non-stop each and every time he was strapped into his carseat.

So, while serious athletes work to increase their aerobic capacity, I'm increasing my discomfort capacity.  This week my training has included spending four hours -- starting at midnight -- trying to cajole my daughter into going back to sleep, 20 sets of my son yelling, "she hit me!" and 40 reps of my daughter flinging food across the dining room.

Luckily, like successfully finishing an event can make all those training runs seem like they were worth it, at the end of the day when I give my kids a snuggle, kiss them goodnight, and tuck them in (the first time), I feel lucky to have these puny yet uncompromising trainers.  They motivate me to be a stronger, more patient, and kinder person.  For that I am truly grateful.

That said, I really hope they've remembered to build some rest days into my schedule.  

Selfish

My husband has a selfish streak.  He laces up his shoes and runs out the door. Literally.  Or he clicks the chin-strap on his bike helmet and off he pedals for a two-hour ride.  He spends every Tuesday evening playing soccer in a co-rec soccer league.  And did I mention he has season tickets to the Sounders FC, which seems to me to have a home game every week for like 40 weeks a year?

How, you may ask, do I put up with this beast of a man?

As it turns out, it's easy.

He is as generous as he is selfish.  And he encourages me to be selfish too.  He is often the one to kick my distracted butt out the door and toward the gym.  He reminds me to call my girlfriends to plan a night out.  He thinks it's important that I take time for myself.

Of course, that's selfish too.  The happier I am, the easier it is on everybody - especially him, so it's a smart move on his part to give me a little nudge toward a more balanced life.  And I usually need the nudge.

It can feel like we're being selfless by putting work and family first.  But what if we're actually worse at our jobs because we don't give ourselves a break?  What if we're actually more stressed-out parents because we don't take time for ourselves?

Others have compared it to the flight attendant speech.  You know the one where they tell you about those floppy baggies that drop down if the cabin loses pressure?

"If you are traveling with a child, please make sure to secure your own face mask before assisting others."

It's true.  We need to be ok if they're going to be ok.  We need to take care of ourselves in order to properly take care of our families.  And the same can be said of our jobs.

More and more research is coming out to support the idea that making time for ourselves makes us healthier, happier, more highly-functioning people.

• Harvard Business Review researchers tell us that exercise, sleep and vacations help us be more focused and productive.
• Several different studies have shown that spending time with friends has as much effect on our health and longevity as not smoking.  
• And in case you happen to be a rat, the researchers at Princeton University learned that exercise can help rats deal better with stress.  I'm sure those robust rodents would make very patient parents to their tiny rat brats.  ("Yes, Ratbert, sweetie.  Just let Mommy change out of these sweats and then I can help you build a fort.")

The research is in: We're actually being generous to our families - and our bosses - by taking time for ourselves.

Wouldn't your employer appreciate a more focused, productive employee?  Don't you want to give your family a more relaxed, happier parent?

So go to the gym instead of folding the laundry.  Go to bed early instead of checking your email.  Go out with a friend instead of loading the dishwasher.  Do something you want to do instead of something you should do.

Consider this your free pass to get out the door and take care of yourself.  What's good for us is good for them.  Tens of thousands of flight attendants can't be wrong.