I was in a funk this weekend. Why can’t we just be happy all the time? I know I sound immature asking that question. I know life is full of peaks and valleys. And I even have the wisdom (somewhere under the bad mood) to believe that sometimes it’s in the valleys where you are forced to see things in new way, or to become more resourceful. Necessity is the mother of invention.
On Saturday I wallowed in my funk. “How’d that work out for you?” It was stupid. I was annoyed at my husband, annoyed at my kids, but mostly annoyed at myself for probably being so annoying to be around. Nothing seemed to make it lift. Often exercise in the key, but the tricky thing about that is that sometimes the funk-dom is so pervasive that I can’t pull out of it enough to make myself do the thing that would make me feel better. In fact, on Saturday, at 4 pm, my husband finally forced me to “get some fresh air.” So, I walked, very slowly, a quarter mile to the shopping center to buy potatoes. Whoopy. It didn’t work. By that evening, I decided something had to give. I announced to Derek that we would need to plan an activity for the following day. He was amenable, but neither of us quite knew what that meant. I found myself saying, “What is it that people with children do?” I had an image of some of the moms I admire, off on culturally enriching day trips with the whole family. Everyone smiling, feeling very enriched and happy. But I couldn’t think of one thing that we might do. I finally asked a friend, who suggested the railroad museum. Luckily, she informed me that it is mostly outdoors, (which is good since I get museum headache), and that it’s only 25 minutes away and was an easy outing for her family. I’m certainly not a train buff, but Derek and I agreed to lattes on the way there and taking the kids out for lunch when we were done. Sold. I was so excited that we had a PLAN! And we were going to do one of those things that all those other people with kids probably do all the time on weekends. The funk was lifting already.
The next morning, the drive alone did it for me. Just heading out of town, getting a different angle on the mountains. The kids were excited, Derek and I felt smug about our plan, things were looking up. The mocha latte helped too. The museum was super fun for the kids, and Derek. I don’t really get off on transportation museums, but I was happy to be outdoors, watching the rest of my family have a good time. It was fun to take pictures of them on all those super-old black, shiny steam engines and bright red cabooses. I did like seeing the old passenger car, with the red velvet seats and so many windows that the light just streamed in. Why don’t they make trains like that anymore? I didn’t bother reading any of the historical placards about the dates they were built or the routes they traveled. I don’t really care even a little bit. But towards the end of our time there, I was waiting for Elias to finish “doing work” on one of the train cars, so I was wandering around near the car he was on and the historical placard with the title “Galloping Goose” caught my attention. The deal is, during the Great Depression, since money was tight and big steam trains were really expensive to operate, folks invented these Galloping Geese. There were only seven ever made. For some reason, that right there intrigued me. These railroad vehicles were part old-fashioned automobile, part train car. If you can picture this, then you might be envisioning a fairly silly-looking contraption. They are. They’re not much bigger than a modern-day SUV. They would carry 3-6 passengers and a small amount of freight or mail. When times were tough, this allowed the post to still run, and some goods and people to get where they needed to go, for less money. Their name came from the fact that they kind of waddled down the track. So, they were slow, and not too pretty, but they were an inventive idea for the Great Depression. But, honestly, when I was reading the sign, I wasn’t thinking about all that. I was just intrigued, and slightly curious as to why this particular display grabbed me like it did. I was delighted that, although I didn’t expect to get anything out of our activity, I had found this quirky, interesting piece of history that tickled me.
That was Sunday. Monday, I woke in a familiar-feelingfunk. Damn. Sunday had successfully distracted me from it, but apparently it was still there. I wallowed for the morning (in pajamas and greasy hair that was crying out for a shower.) By lunchtime, I knew, just like yesterday, the boys and I needed a PLAN. Sometimes, when I’m at a loss, I just ask the kids what they want to do. They both definitively announced that we should most certainly go to a park today. Ok, but I knew I needed a different park than the neighborhood ones we can walk too. I needed something reminiscent of the drive yesterday… that feeling of getting out of the normal rut and doing something different. Derek had the car, so I couldn’t travel far and wide, but luckily I am in the place (and in possession of the gear) where I can throw Elias (3) in the bike chariot and Will (6) can hop on his own bike (and get a bunch of what he needs), and bonus—I get to haul 100 pounds around town. That means I get that hard-core exercise I spoke of earlier, which often releases those nice, happy endorphins into my little moody brain, and creates less funk and more joy. Perfect. We rode two or three miles to a fun park that has lots of climby and spinny equipment. I was hitting the jackpot with getting Will the activities he needs. The warm sun was up, so I sat down on a bench, and I had some moments to breathe and then to think. And it was then that I started remembering the Galloping Geese and how funny I found them. I started to analyze why they struck me as they did. I realized that it was during a “valley” (the Great Depression) that someone had to get creative and figure out how to move stuff along those rail lines without the cost of big, honkin’ trains. There was no glamour to what they came up with, but it worked. This reminds me so much of motherhood. It ain’t pretty, but it works. And necessity is the mother of invention, even if the necessity is just a royally crappy mood and the invention is just finding a new park on a bike ride with the kids. And… mothers are the inventors of necessity.
