We heartily applaud Mr. Kreider's efforts to fight hyper-busy culture, but we do note it will be some years before most modern mothers can attempt his solution, which appears to be something along the lines of “move to an undisclosed location, read, write, go for long bicycle rides.” Even without encouraging (enforcing?) all manner of extra-curricular activities for her children, a modern mother must do laundry, wipe faces, cook dinner, bathe small children, and generally tame the chaos. Of course, all the extra busy-ness of being a parent is temporary, and in the mean time, we can all dream about 5 solid hours devoted to nothing but writing, followed by leisurely bicycle rides through the French countryside, baguette in basket.
The Busy Parent Trap
In earlier posts, we’ve written about the busy contest and hyper-scheduling one-upmanship, but its now front and center in people’s minds (or at least their facebook feeds) thanks toThe ‘Busy’ Trap by Tim Kreider which appeared in Sunday's New York Times. Mr. Kreider makes a strong argument for the merits of idleness, and successfully skewers the busy culture (e.g., busy people “schedule in time with friends the way students with 4.0 G.P.A.s make sure to sign up for community service because it looks good on their college applications.”) and he holds no punches when he argues that people over-schedule themselves as a “hedge against emptiness.”
We heartily applaud Mr. Kreider's efforts to fight hyper-busy culture, but we do note it will be some years before most modern mothers can attempt his solution, which appears to be something along the lines of “move to an undisclosed location, read, write, go for long bicycle rides.” Even without encouraging (enforcing?) all manner of extra-curricular activities for her children, a modern mother must do laundry, wipe faces, cook dinner, bathe small children, and generally tame the chaos. Of course, all the extra busy-ness of being a parent is temporary, and in the mean time, we can all dream about 5 solid hours devoted to nothing but writing, followed by leisurely bicycle rides through the French countryside, baguette in basket.
We heartily applaud Mr. Kreider's efforts to fight hyper-busy culture, but we do note it will be some years before most modern mothers can attempt his solution, which appears to be something along the lines of “move to an undisclosed location, read, write, go for long bicycle rides.” Even without encouraging (enforcing?) all manner of extra-curricular activities for her children, a modern mother must do laundry, wipe faces, cook dinner, bathe small children, and generally tame the chaos. Of course, all the extra busy-ness of being a parent is temporary, and in the mean time, we can all dream about 5 solid hours devoted to nothing but writing, followed by leisurely bicycle rides through the French countryside, baguette in basket.
Sprinting towards summer
Camp forms have been submitted; the teacher gifts purchased; year-end parties have been planned, and the end of the school year is on the horizon. As every sports team, community organization, or book club tries to pack in a “last” dinner, annual meeting or luncheon, things get breathtakingly hectic and the modern mother’s calendar erupts in multiple overlapping colored bubbles. As she rushes through all these events, trying to compose thoughtful thank you notes along the way, life can start to feel like a sprint, a sprint into summer. Of course, its not a race, not even an endurance test, just another example of how modern mothers must, balance, plan, organize and execute, all while keeping their equanimity and not getting caught up in the busy contest.
So, hang in there modern mothers! The sprint towards summer will end soon enough, and in the meantime, we can all look forward to the joys of the season (fireflies, pool parties, and 4th of july sparklers) even if our anticipation might be tinged with a bit of dread. Stock up on sunscreen, sandals and swimsuits, as you race through your year end activities, before you know it we’ll all be on vacation, if that’s what you’d like to call it.
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