Perfectionism, Pragmatism, and... Pentathlon

I've been watching the Olympics. A lot. At first I mostly watched gymnastics. But after a while, it got annoying how much the judges were essentially looking for sameness -- for perfection. It's a sport of deductions, and no one measures up to that perfect 10 anymore. Does this strike anyone else as an exercise in frustration?

So then I started watching more track and field events. There, no one cares much what your form is like, only how fast, how high, how far you go. And man, some of those folks can go fast! Usain Bolt is amazing. I liked how he didn't seem to care about the few more hundredths of a second he could have shaved off his time in the 100 meters -- he just wanted to celebrate! I love watching high jumpers, pole vaulters, you name it.

But a few days ago, my Olympics viewing took a whole new turn when I watched the equestrian portion of the men's modern pentathlon. There had been a torrential rain, and the arena was in terrible shape. This being modern pentathlon, the riders and horses only had about 20 minutes to get acquainted with each other before their attempts at the 12-jump course. (Modern pentathlon, I'm told, is based on 19th-century military experience, where an officer trapped behind enemy lines would not have had the luxury of riding a horse he'd trained with for years.) One rider after another racked up penalties for the horses refusing to jump the gates at all. Several were thrown from their horses. And what did they do? Cry? Jump up and down? Kick the judges? Nope. Mostly they sauntered over to wherever their alarmed horses had ended up, remounted, and went about their muddy business. Sure, a few seemed frustrated, but by and large they they took it pretty well. One rider, after giving up and taking the maximum penalty because his round was already so bad -- and, I suspect, because he wanted to conserve energy and unbroken bones for the run afterward -- grinned and patted the horse's neck repeatedly as he returned to the paddock.

I just have to love these guys. Can you imagine, being good enough to get to the Olympics in your sport and still having an event where getting thrown off your horse in front of millions of viewers is a realistic likelihood? Gymnasts and track athletes do risky things and sometimes have embarrassing falls or get hurt, but those horses seem like a far more potent wild card.

So I got to thinking about the parallels between Olympic sports and life skills like getting the house ready to have friends over for dinner. Can you picture these elite athletes as hosts?

There's Gillian Gymnast, cleaning her house with perfect form and grace, nary a hair out of place nor a splatter on her clothes, using exactly the right tool for each task and getting the house white-glove clean. She cleans precisely as her mother taught her, right down the type of cloth she uses for polishing the door knocker, and her roast chicken is exactly the same (and very good) every time.

In the next house is Tillie Track Star. Unconcerned with her own looks while cleaning or the exact design of her tools, she concentrates on efficiency, getting the house company-ready in minimum time so she can knit, get dressed, and try a new recipe for dinner. Sure, there are a few dust bunnies left hidden under the couch, only the high-traffic areas got vacuumed this time, and the spice rack isn't in alphabetical order, but who cares! Bottom line: The house looks great with minimum stress.

And around the corner, we find Petunia Pentathlete. She cleans by the seat of her pants, using whatever tool or cleaning product is available to do the job. As she wipes the bathroom sink, she is suddenly interrupted by sewage erupting from the bathtub drain. Petunia chuckles, takes a photo to show her friends later, checks an online reference to help decide whether to call the plumber, tackle the problem herself, or hang an "out of order" sign on the door, and then moves on with her afternoon. Maybe the whole house didn't get clean this week, but she did her best and didn't stress out, and still enjoyed the friends who came for dinner -- take-out this time, for goodness' sake!

May your days be as relaxed as Tillie's, but when the wheels come off, may you have the grace under fire of Petunia. Happy housekeeping!

A Celebration of Omnivory

This week DS turned four months old, which is when most kids get over the food sensitivities that contribute to colic. My DS was sensitive to dairy and soy in my diet, so I cut them out when he was a few weeks old. I also never reintroduced chocolate or citrus after starting my elimination diet.

But this week, I brought them all back, and he's doing great! Yippeee! I got back chocolate, orange juice, ruby grapefruit, Mexican food, Indian food, goat cheese, soy milk (I make my own at home -- soymilk maker, anyone? -- and use the bean pulp to make awesome, fluffy homemade bread)... so many things! I'm loving it. I get to be an omnivore again. (Okay, still not eating beef, hydrogenated oils, or most fish, but those were already off the menu for their own reasons.)

The funny thing is, I wasn't missing this stuff that much for its own sake. It's actually possible for me to live happily without cheese! Who knew?! The hard part was that anytime I went out to eat or ate food provided by someone else (potlucks, parties, etc.), I had to grill them about the ingredients. Do you know how hard it is to get restaurant food without dairy or soy? Oy vay! So, socially speaking, my life just got a lot easier. And less expensive, since I can stop buying packaged rice milk and bread.

Also, I can go back to having more vegetarian meals, now that dairy and soy protein sources are both available to me. Legumes would normally have been a fallback for me, but unfortunately, the food components that make most people gassy also get into breast milk, so DS suffered when my bean intake became significant.

Now that I've made my first post-colic batch of soy milk, maybe I'll continue the celebration by learning to make my own cheese.

Knitting? Spinning? Mostly casualties of the Olympics, which I'm watching in bits and pieces online. Though now that my giant-size DS has outgrown his infant car seat (You know, the one that's supposed to be good until they're 6 months old? And he's 4 months?), which we could bring into the house if he fell asleep in the car, I'm carrying my sock knitting in the car for those times when he falls asleep and I have time to just park in the shade and knit. Unfortunately, when I finished my first sock, I tried to graft off K2, P2 rib from memory instead of looking it up. Now I'll have to take it out and do it over, 'cause that sock is not stretchy enough to make it over my heel. Feh. But you know, making my own cheese would totally make up for it. :)