Happy Habits

Today I bring to you a guest post from the inimitable Dr. Lisa Munger, a friend and ocean-science colleague living a Hawaiian-based existence (of which I am often jealous) involving cuddling large jungle spiders and listening to marine animals and things. Enjoy!

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I’m getting a little tired of all these “habits of happy people” articles circulating around.  It’s as if cultural anthropologists, after careful scrutiny, have determined that there are two kinds of people in the world, those who are happy and those who are not.  You can recognize the Happies by their filmy white dresses that ripple in the breeze as they strike yoga poses on the beach at sunset.  They do things differently.  They have HABITS.

But you?  No, clearly you are just some normal, run-of-the-mill, depressed, stressed-out, grumpy schmoe, a.k.a. a “Non-happy”. You have to sit in traffic and deal with nincompoops and worry about all the things that are wrong with the world like all the rest of us.

This is them.

This is you.

                             

Well, in my expert* opinion, you don’t have to be happy to be happy. In my expert* opinion, happiness coexists with whatever state you’re already in right now.  Stop putting happiness on a goddamn pedestal.

So without further ado, here are 5 things most anyone can do, right now, whatever mood they’re in, to feel happy while you cram junk food in your face or scowl at your computer or whatever else.  They aren’t really even habits, unless you do them a lot (or, as they say, “habitually”).  You can do ‘em as one-offs, except for maybe #3.

 1) look at pictures of cute animals on the internet.  Sometimes they have funny captions.  They say it helps you get work done, too!

2) lighten up. There’s a lot of heavy shit out there, and you can easily occupy all your time being outraged and worried and overwhelmed by all the things that are outrageous and worrisome.  But that’s not happening because the world is truly an awful place; that’s happening because you are hard-wired to be alert to threats and scared by them. If you don’t balance that tendency out, those constant stress hormones will whittle away your being from the inside.  Don’t worry; there’s plenty of funny and beautiful and heartwarming shit out there too (see # 1). Go find it.  Laugh. A LOT.  SRSLY.

3) have awesome friends. Friends who think the same stuff is funny as you (a sure sign of awesomeness).  Friends who don’t judge you, friends who you have an equal exchange with (of energy, of intellect, of whatever).  If you surround yourself with awesome people it will heighten your level of awesomeness by association. This includes virtual friends. There’s really no need to keep reading a constant stream of complaints from that one person you know who always seems to be a victim, or that other person who always wants you to freak out that the world is ending. Go for the people who post funny cat pictures (see #1).

4) eat and drink the good stuff. Not specifying here whether that’s kale or a magnificent bacon cheeseburger (see #1—oh wait, j/k).  Up to you;  I’m just sayin’, go for quality. Personally I’m a big fan of top shelf tequila.

 5) go the fuck outside. There’s weather and plants and animals (see #1) and stuff.  It’s neat.

The end.  Happy habiting!  (In case you missed it, it’s really all about cute animal pictures—see #1).

* I am not an expert.  In anything**.  I just google.

 **(From Jessica: Unless of course you count a PhD as a sign of being an expert in something.)

Excellence, Toddler Style

Life is very chaotic right now (see this previous post for a sampling of the fun we’re having). Meanwhile, little R. has been trucking along, being a great sport. Today’s post is about how this little guy maximizes his awesome toddler potential to make life fun, even when the rest of life is kind of annoying. I think I can learn a lot from him.

Tips from my toddler:

-People with injuries should be reminded of the fact (pointing and repeating “ouchy” for 4 minutes), then made better by blowing kisses towards the wound.

-If you want something, DO NOT take a simple no for an answer…at least not until you have:

(a) attempted to physically get said thing in at least 3 separate ways (eg. asking for a popsicle repeatedly at top volume for several minutes; pushing chair over to climb up and get your own damn popsicle; suggesting we go to the store for a popsicle and supplying bike helmets to spur things along),

(b) thrown a gigantic fit when all of the above doesn’t work, and

(c) forgotten all about desired item when something better comes along (a spoon of peanut butter with goldfish crackers on top? That’s amazing!).

-Make sure you are heard by yelling everything you say at top volume.

Who needs pants? Or shoes?

-Honesty is sometimes better than sparing feelings.

-Life can be tragic. Yell and scream and get those negative feelings out when horrible things happen, like a bumped head – it’s cathartic.

-The world is fascinating. Look at everything around you and point out interesting things to other people, in case they don’t see them. Make sure you keep repeating yourself (“green! green! green! truck! truck!”) until your companion acknowledges and delights in your discovery.

Don't take yourself too seriously.

-Reduce boredom. Calm and quiet can happen when we’re dead – life is for living. Run, shout, and make a ruckus during all waking moments.

-Prevent adults from becoming stodgy. As soon as you hear your parents discussing something bordering seriousness (finances, the dinner menu, logistics of sharing a single car between two commutes and daycare), interrupt by physically hanging upon one of them and yelling about something unrelated until they join in your mud-pie making or crayon-on-wall art project instead.

-If you are lucky enough to obtain an interesting object in your possession, hold onto it with all of your might. Do not let go until you have slept with said object for at least one nap.

-Share everything (except that one favorite vehicle toy). Chocolate, half-eaten apples, chalk, and books are so much better shared than enjoyed alone.

Want some?

-Be helpful. Get involved in all of the household activities, like dishwashing and hammering things and digging holes in the yard. This will cause the adults to more creatively complete their tasks while you undo everything that was just finished, which clearly makes life more fun.

So next time you see a tiny person, pay attention. You just might learn something

How to drive away patients

Today was Ryder’s 2-year well-baby checkup. Anyone who has spent time with us recently might understand why I almost considered canceling: we’ve got a lot going on these days, time and money are precious, and I consider Ryder to be a very healthy and happy little kid. Why waste energy being told what I already know? But I also have a little judgemental cartoon character in my head that scolds me if I consider doing things of which a “good mother” wouldn’t approve.

The visit started out fine: Ryder was a great sport about getting measured and weighed, and waved and smiled to all of the nurses as we walked to our exam room. We had fun identifying colors and objects around the room as we waited for the doctor. Then, the doctor arrived and spoiled everything.

It began when we looked at Ryder’s 3 growth-chart datapoints (most of his measurements were done in Australia, so his US chart is a bit sparse). These showed a seemingly precipitous drop in his size-for-age, sometime in the past year.

“My, my,” said the doctor. “Worrying indeed.” He proceeded to list off some terrifying ailments Ryder could have to explain this trajectory. Then we discussed his eating habits, including the fact that he was an overly-avid breast-feeder until almost 18 months, and would sometimes refuse to eat at daycare, waiting to fill up on milk. “The Australians definitely let you down, if they saw this drop-off in percentile and didn’t warn you to make changes. But then again, Australians are cavalier croc-wrestlers who don’t go to the doctor unless they are missing a limb.”

“Clearly, though, this shows that Ryder has some severe behavioral problems,” said Mister Doctor. “At that age he didn’t need your breastmilk, he just wanted comfort. This indicates he is much too attached to you, and he also manipulates you,” he said, casting a disapproving eye at Ryder, who was at the moment cuddling on my lap.  

Look at this naughty child, whom I've entrusted with a ceramic cup in a tile-floored coffee shop. Clearly a hooligan.

First, he decided to refer Ryder to a pediatric counselor to address his behavior problems (“of course,” he added, “really this will be to teach you how to parent him properly”). Then, he lectured me on needing to place Ryder into a full-time preschool to help him detach from me and become independent (because, you know, 2 year olds really should be completely ready to fend for themselves, obviously).

“Now, the other thing we should discuss is how his potential growth has been curtailed by this malnourishment before he stopped breastfeeding,” the doctor continued. “He’s not going to be as tall as he could have been. Being tall is important for boys. He’s going to have problems socially, and it will probably even impact his ability to secure a good job.”

What. The. Actual. Fuck.

While my response to this in person was to burst into tears (causing the doctor to send in a counselor to discuss the fact that I should also be referred for family counseling because obviously I can’t keep my shit together) here is what I would have liked to say to him, had I been given time to compose myself:

1. Your data is shit. Three data points are not enough to infer anything. Who’s to say that the first high-percentile datapoint wasn’t marked down incorrectly? (If I could find anything in this house, I’d compare all of his Australian measurements…but I have no freaking idea where they are).

2. It’s not Ok to say that there is a correct way to parent. Parenting is extremely personal, comes from the heart, and I believe should ebb and flow to fit the needs of each particular family. Obviously, there are ground rules: feed and bathe the child, give them love, and don’t hurt them. Beyond that, I have a hard time believing there is a proven “best” way to parent, much like the objective “best” chocolate chip cookie is not possible to quantify (I like them soft and chewy, but maybe you are weird and like crunchy ones. Fine.)

Geez, look at this lack of social ability.

3. Telling me that I screwed something up irreversibly in the past, and have thus destroyed my child’s chance at a good future is not particularly useful, unless your goal is to destroy all of the self-confidence I hold as a mother. Give me advice on how I can support my child’s health and well being in the future, given his current and past health history. Don’t berate me for something of which I was unaware and have no power to fix.

4. You don’t know a flying lollipop about Australian people or the Australian health-care system.

5. Making judgments about my kid’s current behavior based on what I told you about how he behaved almost a year ago is ridiculous.

6. Behaviors I find upsetting in children include hitting, biting, stealing toys, throwing tantrums to get candy/toys/whatever, lying, breaking things, harming animals, screaming randomly, and generally being irritating. Ryder generally doesn’t do any of these things, and is generally kind and gentle and sweet, and I am therefore not inclined to try to change his personality.

7. My kid likes to cuddle and has good reason to be wary and want to sit with me in doctor’s offices (if you remember, Doc, the last time we were here you convinced me that we should take a blood sample from the perfectly healthy babe because you are insane and I didn’t realize it at the time). When he goes to daycare, or to other people’s houses to play, he doesn’t cling to me: he happily goes off to enjoy himself, barely giving me a wave as I leave for work. If that is overly attached, so be it.

8. Yes, it would be great if we had more friends with kids Ryder’s age. But I’m busy, and it’s hard to make friends, and I still feel like we just moved back across the ocean. So give me a freaking break.

No, we won’t be back, doctor.

Rethinking feminism (in particular situations)

Please excuse the long period of silence on the blog. We’ve been in a mild period of upheaval over here. The husband had an unexpected stay at the hospital a few weeks back, we bought our first house, and I started a new job teaching part-time at the University of San Diego. I might have a few moments to breathe here and there, had we bought a normal home, with things like a kitchen, or a functional shower. Instead, we’ve been mostly living in a camper trailer kindly donated and hand-delivered by my dad to our new backyard (a swath of dirt and construction debris), while we spend essentially every spare moment tackling the most pressing house-functionality issues.

This photo is a good representation of the house - Ok, there is a mailbox, but it is about to tip over. And yes, there's a bit of a fence, though it is only about 6 feet long and could probably be pushed over by a gust of wind.

Some of these tasks have caused me to seriously question why I ever voiced out loud my feeling that women and men should be able to do essentially the same things. For example, here is a sampling of the not-hugely-pleasant items I have done recently, that may once have belonged solely in the realm of strapping, lumberjack-style men:

1. After emptying and pulling out clogs in the Shopvac six times, I realized it was time to clean the bucketfuls of matted fiberglass insulation + raccoon poop out of the outdoor storage room with a shovel. Apparently the raccoon previously living in there had discovered the insulation made a fine nest.

2. Removed several desiccated carcasses (possum, and probably raccoon) from underneath the house with the help of a crowbar.

3. Sprayed with bleach solution and then wiped up by (gloved) hand an entire bucketful of rodent poop throughout the house.

My recent attire of choice.

4. Dug up a cubic yard of contaminated soil from the backyard where someone had tried (illegally and disgustingly) to dispose of motor oil by pouring it into the ground and kicking dirt over it.

5. Fought with our sewer line for 2 days:

(a) Removed the toilet and tried to clear the stopped sewer drain using a hand-driven auger (snake) for two hours. I learned to stand far back from the open, sloshing sewer line when removing and cleaning the end of the snake after the first time it sproinged out and splattered everything in the vicinity.

(b) Obtained sulfuric acid and tried, unsuccessfully again, to clear the drain by dissolving the clog with noxious chemicals.

(c) Called our neighbor the plumber, whose motorized equipment solved the problem in 20 minutes.

(d) Replaced the toilet, crooked.

(e) Removed the toilet again, bought a new wax ring, and replaced it once more.

(f) Decided that next time I will skip all of those steps except (c).

6. Spent 2 hours unsuccessfully installing a laundry sink in our kitchen and swearing like a sailor before the husband pointed out I had the p-trap on backwards.

So, what have I learned aside from the fact that mice running past my feet will indeed cause me to squeal loudly and leap into the air like a cartoon character?

1. Gloves are under-rated.

2. People who clean things for a living are saints.

3. Renovating is a great workout.

4. Cleaning and construction work will destroy your clothing.

5. Walking around a construction site in bare feet is idiotic.

Maybe I should have insisted that my sex bars me from participating in any of the above activities, and instead should be supervising while eating chocolate bon-bons? I guess that would probably get boring after a while. And, I wouldn't get to take all the credit for this kind of amazing transformation:

"Shower" before

"Shower" after (other wall). Still no faucet, etc. but at least we have tile!

Packing for a long-ass flight with your toddler

In a few days, I get to fly with my 22-month-old wiggle monster on my lap to London. Despite the little guy's obsession with airplanes and extensive flying experience, I still worry about keeping him entertained enough such that he doesn't spend the entire time yelling at the top of his lungs (he seems to think this will make things that he is yelling about appear...maybe because they often do...hmm), or throwing things at and kicking our neighbors on the plane as he tries to escape down the aisle while the seat-belt sign is on.

Here is what we are packing, so far:

This is the most amazing thing, ever. A tiny airplane-shaped roll-on bag. R is often entertained for very long periods of time pushing and pulling this around the airport and plane. And, people think it's cute so they stop to smile at and talk to him, which he loves.

BOOKS. Some days, R wakes up instantly asking to read books. Sometimes we can only get him out of the house by promising to bring books along, or to get more books at the library. I find a lot of children's books totally idiotic and confusing (why the f**k are the animals always wearing clothes and not eating one another?), so am hoping that these new larger ones I just picked up at the thrift shop don't suck. Also, a book of vehicles (another obsession) he can draw on top of.

Age-inappropriate toys with small chokable parts. Way more interesting to him now than "baby" toys. The box thing is something that I think opens up and can be used to drive cars around on a little course...we have yet to figure it out so am saving this for the plane. New things are especially wonderful. Also, a tiny ball to lose instantly in the plane...this one currently lives in my purse for emergency entertainment in boring situations.

A container stuffed full of finger puppets (a favorite distractor now is to watch stuffed animals/puppets doing things, like turning the lights on and off above the seat, or eating). Also fun to take out and identify one by one...and put back and repeat. Same for the little bag of tiny chokable animals. This lives in my purse, too.

A little plastic box with removable dividers. This is fun for R to play with, and can double as a snack-holder.

Stickers (this pack is cool because they peel off and can be reused), and crayons (washable).

Next, I need to work on packing approximately 37 different types of snacks...and I guess some clothes and things. Yeehaw.

How to drive your mother nuts

Like I’ve said before, I was a little (Ok, a lot) ignorant about raising children before I started raising one myself. For example, I thought that picky eaters were not born, but were rather created by parents who were too quick to bend over backwards and make special meals for their children. “Not me!” I thought to myself. I’ll just cut up bits of whatever I’m eating and feed it to my child. This seemed very easy, and proponents of “baby-led weaning” will imply that this is precisely all you need to do (and perhaps that any other way of feeding your kid is stupid and will lead your child into certain obesity and a problematic relationship with food…but let’s not go into that right now).

I had examples to follow – children of friends who would happily eat whatever was placed in front of them, including such things are an entire head of broccoli, or a Philly cheesesteak. This, I thought, would be a piece of cake. And then, I had my kid.

From the start, feeding this little man has been challenging. We struggled with nursing in the beginning, with a bad latch leading to painful feeding that made me cry each of the seemingly thousand times he nursed each day. With some help (OMG lactation consultants are amazing people), we figured that out, but then struggled with milk flow not being perfect for my little connoisseur. I would have to feed him in all sorts of awkward positions to get the flow to the right speed for his taste. Then, we went through a stage where he would get confused whether he wanted to nurse or just suck on his pacifier, and another where he insisted on pushing me away with his arms while rooting around in the air for my boob, resulting in ridiculous wrestling matches before I could get him to nurse. Needless to say, I quickly gave up on being a discrete breast-feeder because no nursing cover would stay put through all of this. Also, I think that because we are mammals, breastfeeding shouldn’t be embarrassing.

This tiny bagel gives me this indescribable emotion, guys!

Anyhow, once we finally seemed to have figured out now to nurse without tears, it was time to start weaning him off the boob and onto solid food. And to go back to work. But while his compatriots from my mother’s group took to this new and exciting stage with gusto, my kid would mostly just squash bits of food into his clothing and hair, taste a little and spit it out. And he flatly refused to be given a bottle, or milk in any vehicle (sippy cup, normal cup, spoon, etc.) except directly from me, which made going back to work rather difficult. Luckily, my supervisors let me mostly telecommute (“Oh, he wants the tit,” they said after I attempted to explain the situation modestly).

So let’s fast-forward a few months. This kid did not want to wean. By 17 months he was still nursing 4-5 times a day, and eating only scant solid food – mostly fruit. He would essentially starve himself at daycare, and then fill up on milk when I picked him up. Getting him down to “just” 4-5 milk feeds was a challenge in itself, involving a lot of tears and distraction (“look, birds!”…offer cheese blocks).

And then one day he was over it. No more milk.

Weaning himself overnight was both a blessing and a curse. At least when he was nursing, we knew he was getting nutritious food. But the plan to just offer him whatever lovely nutritious food we happened to be eating was not—and is still not—up to the kid’s standards.

Let me just taste this before we pay for it, Ok?

Now that he’s talking, he asks for an “ack” (his version of  “snack”) when he’s hungry. This word now makes me cringe, because I know what’s in store. This is generally how it goes down:

1. I offer him something to eat, like an apple.

2. He says “um, no.”

3. I try offering two choices: “would you like and apple or an orange?”

4. He says “um, no….ack?”

5. He goes over to rummage in my purse, thinking I might have something tasty in there, while yelling “ack? ack? ack?” repeatedly.

6. I offer him something else, like toast or peanut butter in a spoon.

7. Instead he opens the fridge and starts looking at and identifying everything.

8. “Milk! apple! olives!” he says with delight, pointing at things.

9. “Would you like _____?” I ask, after he identifies each item.

10. “Um…no. Ack?” he responds. Or worse, he does a little “uh?” sound, feigning interest in something until I open and serve him some in a dish, at which point he says “um, no.”

11. I become exasperated and flop onto the floor. “What do you want to eat, child?”

At this point we sometimes just walk to the grocery store a few blocks away and I let him pick something out, like blueberries. Often, this makes him happy and he eats the entire box. Sometimes, we have to keep walking through the store while he nibbles on all sorts of things, which then become that week’s shopping.

Other times, we go through lots of discussion and frustration on his part while he describes to me in broken words and gestures what he wants; for example that he’d like Cheerios with milk and frozen (not fresh! duh!) blueberries, but they have to be cut in half, and each half has to be placed in the bowl to be eaten one by one, and we have to do this all in the middle of the kitchen floor.

More inconvenient is when we are out and about doing something. I pack 5 different snacks, hoping one of them will make him happy, but knowing that there is no always-going-to-satisfy fallback. So we end up having to leave the beach early to go do our grocery-grazing because I just can’t stand him saying “Ack? ack? ack?” ad infinitum as he digs through the diaper bag looking for something he actually wants.

Hmm, these look suspiciously like something you made just for me. Think I will throw them in the grass, now.

So, darling child. While I love you and want to support your trajectory towards becoming an independent little person who chooses what and how and when he eats, spending my entire day attempting to decipher how to support you in this endeavor is just terribly exhausting. Won’t you just settle for some darn Mac’n’cheese, already?!

Choose the right beverage

A friend from my Scripps Institution of Oceanography days mentioned a saying from one of her professors the other day – “science is all about choosing the right drink for the job.” So, how does one do that? Here’s my take on a few of your standard choices, as applied to marine science.

              
                                                                   Coffee

                           Yes                                                                              No

·      Before diving (all the better to generate                ·      Diving in a drysuit

more pee to keep you warm in the wetsuit)               ·      Picking foraminifera out of sand under the

·      Running instruments all night long in the             microscope, or other tasks where fine motor skills

basement                                                                    are helpful

·      Doing complicated statistics                                  ·      Working for long stretches in the cleanlab in a

·      Writing                                                                   bunny suit that takes ages to get in and out of

·      Reading turgid articles                                           every time you have to pee

                                                                    
                                                                    Beer

                             Yes                                                                             No

·      Talking to friends about science                            ·      Giving talks about science, unless you are 

                                                                                    at nerd nite

                                                                     Wine

                              Yes                                                                             No

·      Formatting manuscripts                                         ·      Working in the lab

·      Making your figures look fancy in Illustrator        ·      Being interviewed   

·      Smoozing potential donors                                    ·      Responding to unpleasant emails

                                Cocktail (preferably with paper umbrella flourish)

                              Yes                                                                              No 

·      After a long day in the field                                    ·      Before a long day in the field

·      When tomorrow’s fieldwork is cancelled due        ·      Before a long night of sample processing

to bad weather/transit on the ship                               ·      While crafting your response to mean reviews

·      After receiving mean reviews on your most           of your most beloved manuscript

beloved manuscript

                                                                     Water

                               Yes                                                                             No

·      When you’ve run out of everything else                ·      When it might debilitate you with parasites

Cocktails also double as paperweights for scientific articles

Seawater samples are not tasty