A follow-up to the post about the banana-hammock man …  the absolute worst thing, worse than the low ratio of skin to fabric, worse than the worn part in the back, the worst, the very worst… is a small yet visible wet spot in the front of the banana hammock.
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At swim lessons the other day Sarah offhandedly asked me if I could “not do my writing today.” Her comment took me by surprise.
I bring my notebook and pen wherever I go. They’ve found a permanent spot in my bag. And I bring it to the 30-minute swim lessons as well. The notebook keeps me company when I’m sitting alone. But it’s not like I put my head down and write semi-conscious streams without ever raising my eyes. I write, I watch, I write some more, but I don’t think she has ever even noticed the small notebook lying open in front of me. Obviously, she has.
Her comment induced a pang of guilt. I write because I love to write. It helps me organize my thoughts and develop ideas. Does it make her sad that my eyeballs aren’t on her 100 per cent of the time?
Some backstory:
Emma has been playing in a soccer league since she turned five. We’ve had a couple of summers of weekly practices, and so now we know what to expect. We learned early on, for example, to bring folding chairs (doh), extra water, sunglasses, and diversion for younger siblings. Last summer Sarah still wasn’t able to sit still long enough to watch her sister play during the hour-long practices. Sarah has always had her own little chair, and we’ve tried to stress the importance (and excitement) of watching soccer, but she never really cared that much. Inevitably one of us would have to take Sarah for an “explore” or to play ball in the back fields. But we always tried to show we’re supporting and encouraging Emma.
It’s the same for most of the other parents. I do however; remember one fellow [edited to add: YES… one of the FATHERS!) who sat in his folding chair with a pair of headphones and a laptop, upon which was playing a DVD of a TV show. He seemed oblivious to everything around him. I’m not the only one who did a double-take. I know many parents found this weird, or at least that’s how I’m interpreting the silent sidelong glances and rolling of eyeballs.
My thoughts at the time:
– why can’t the guy watch it later at home?
– why can’t he just enjoy the moment?
– what kind of message is it sending to his children? Sorry I missed the goal you scored honey but I was watching a really exciting part of the show? !
This of course brings me back to my ol’ notebook. Perhaps I’m being hypocritical. Am I excusing myself because it’s “low tech?” Isn’t it healthy for Sarah to see me doing what I love most, and possibly develop a love for it herself some day? Is she truly bothered by it? Am I being a bad parent? What would be the best thing to do? Write it in sometimes, when they’re not looking? Keep my writing for when they’re in bed? I guess I’m wondering if there a happy medium here. Gah. I hate second-guessing myself.
