letter #50: Cat's out of the bag, playtime is boring

Stacking blocks is blasé. But, there's also something holy about it.

Listen to this essay below. Recommend to pair with tea and/or rain.

I watched my first episode of “Meekah - Educational Show For Kids,” the other day. Lila requested it the literal second she saw the Netflix logo. Meekah is the boisterous main character who plays, educates, and sings. The show introduces children to activities in a simplified/energetic way (i.e., anything from tumbling, composting, making cookies or playing in sensory experience houses). Meekah appears alongside Blippi, a bountiful, dapper gentleman who sports a cumbersome button-up and orange suspenders (and honestly creeps me out a little bit). Adults in doll clothes are alarming. Anyway — they make learning FUN FUN FUN FUN FUN!

The show exhausts me. Maybe exhausted isn’t the word. Am I jealous? It’s too early to be sure. Meekah spends most of her episodes in a giant, fabulous playhouse, spells her name with gusty fervor, and is always having the time of her life. How am I not supposed to feel like the world’s most boring, exhausted mother?

Moreover, Meekah is a beacon of enthusiasm! Her every facial expression is a burst of positive energy and hand expressions. “HEY, it’s me, Meekah, and it’s nice to meet-cha!” Meekah is a human hyperbole. In that, she is everything. She's happy! Sad! Hopeful! Excited! “Do you want to have a TEA PARTY WITH ME? Common! **insert five jumps** Can you JUMP? One, two, three, jump!!! Wow! Look at you, JUMP!!”

She’s always moving, yelling, throwing hands, and asking questions. She’s a mermaid, a dinosaur, a wiggle-outer, a bunny, a chef; a cheerleader — all in 30 seconds. She sees colors and opportunities to learn inside every moment. She gasps with enthusiasm as she learns to skateboard and try pottery. She’s everything all at once! And my god, does she love making fake soup and dancing with you!!

Meanwhile, here’s me.

I, reader, am not Meekah.

I'M JUST REALLY BORED. AND IMAGINATIVE PLAY MAKES ME SO TIRED.

Let me preface by saying that I adore playing with Lila — more than ever. I cherish the moments when she watches me play with her munchkin cat people and make dinner in her Little People house. My heart melts when she carefully sets her dolls in and out of her wooden crib; when she feeds them ghost-food with a giant ladle. They hunch their naked cloth bodies in a high chair, and she carefully places their belongings (bottles, blankets, toys) on innate objects throughout the house. Witnessing her imagination at work is a precious gift. I join her, making her babies replicate the sign language finger-tap for “more” or by replicating a fake cry. If I ask to join Lila “to play,” I see a mini emotional firework go off in her heart, because I know she loves to pretend with me. And I love to see her, down in her contractable world.

However, after 30 minutes of play, my body depletes. A pang of dissociation tugs at my chest. I want to grab my phone or read a book. I want to have a big conversation with an adult. Or, write down my feelings. I'm constantly bored of setting babies on pillows, stacking blocks, and repeatedly starting a plastic car's buzzy engine. And my god, the guilt I feel when that pang hits me … it's another level of sadness.

I feel instant guilt if I'm not crouched on the floor engaging with Lila every second of every minute she's home. I want her to feel wanted. And I want her to know I'm coming down to her level of play. I'm here; I'm always warm sunlight at her back, ready to imagine a world inside this tiny room, even though my adult brain no longer festers in that magic. I'm so literal now.

Shows like Bluey and Meekah don't help my case. Bluey's dad, Bandit, is known for his imaginative approach to parenting, often transforming every day moments into fun and educational adventures. Whether pretending to be a magical creature, setting up elaborate treasure hunts, or playing make-believe, Bandit consistently demonstrates a deep commitment to fostering his dog-child’s creativity and joy.

I know Bluey is a television show. And I know Bandit is a mere cartoon character, but I can't help feeling downtrodden by my lack of ability to immerse myself in imaginative scenarios on a constant basis. I get tired and spent fast, and I can't help but think outside myself whenever I'm in these core moments. Even though, at my true core, I wish I was a fairy. I wish I had the gusto to play with Lila like I was 5-years-old with an entirely different world at my fingertips. I wish I couldn’t tell time.

Before anyone lashes out at me, I am grateful to have a playful, imaginative toddler. But I want to articulate the other side of my feelings: the side that's always bored and tired.

Because, maybe my feelings are evolutional. Maybe, I’m supposed to feel tired when I play pretend. I love this research shared in

Elena Bridgers

Substack, “Where Are the Multi-Age Playgroups?” It expresses the importance behind communities of play versus the ongoing pressure on mothers to be the core “play” caregiver.

“Play groups in the hunter-gatherer context typically consist of a band of six to eight children of both genders, many of whom are related (though not all) and range in age from three to about twelve. The purpose of the group is play. They are not expected to forage or contribute much to adult work. And they usually play close to camp, though not always in camp.

In their observations of the Agta, a group of UK anthropologists reported that “adults had very little, if any, involvement in playgroups: collectively, parents and grandparents consisted of less than 1% of playgroup members” (source). There is usually an adult within shouting distance, but that adult may not actually be providing any direct supervision or care. In fact, the designated caregiver is often an elderly member of the group or a sick person, since all healthy, able-bodied people generally prefer to go out hunting and foraging.

One of my favorite facts about playgroups is that, once children become active participants, mothers all but cease playing with their children. Studies show that mothers in hunter-gatherer societies actually play with their children less than any other category of caregiver. They provide nurturance in the form of feeding, comforting, and other forms of direct care, but they very rarely play. Play is the job of other children.”

The monotonous truth of parenthood

Let’s face it: somewhere inside of its poignant beauty, being a parent is deeply boring.

Weekends, if not stacked with plans and shopping trips, can feel heavily tedious and wearisome. I think the pressure to be constantly engaged, even though my brain craves a cognitive outlet more than 50% of the time, is a mere survival tactic. I’m always thinking about “what’s next.” When will she be hungry? What should I feed her? When should I change her diaper? Put her down for a nap? That bland churning in my head keeps me on my toes in a hopeless, unvarying way. I wish I could read a book while she plays. I wish I could rest. But my consciousness won’t let me.

During an episode of Ezra Klein’s podcast interview with Jia Tolentino, they talk about Cocomelon, parental dissociation, pleasure, and psychedelics. I was particularly interested in their discussion on “real pleasure” and the value of what we can’t measure. Jia gets into parental dissociation—and the discourse around “fun” and parenting. Moreover, how the most sublime moments of parenting are objectively boring.

Tolentino says, “Wiping a butt over and over again—washing tiny little hands. These things are so often tedious and they are holy. And the thing that connects them both is submission. I found that the transcendent moments in parenting and the really objectively boring ones [are] where I’m laying on the floor wishing I could read a book instead of stacking little plastic eggs on top of each other.”

Raising children: Tedious and holy. God, I love that.

Klein goes onto agree with her and says, “There’s so much tension and energy and guilt in this connection between the sacred and the mundane. The sense that you SHOULD be feeling a transcendent experience even though you are bored or tired or want to be somewhere else—it’s such a profound and constant experience in parenting and in life.”

Regardless if we’re parents or not, we are always looking for a narrative to lift us from the present. Perhaps that’s the human experience. Our smartphones have deformed that desire even more. Being present is work. It’s a rawness. It’s painful sometimes. It’s easy to turn away from. When, in reality, boring is an opportunity. Boring moments are an opportunity to notice the real flickers of the holy. Boring, monotonous moments can be reminders to take notice, to file it away as a moment you will want back someday.

“Maybe ‘boring’ is just another word for soft. For real. For full.” -

Alisha Ramos

, founder and writer of

Downtime

Jia and Alisha are right. That seemingly dull, placid afternoon is a canvas for us to see the shiny, simple things. Boredom can be sublime. Perhaps the craving for dissociation is our brain's way of asking for a break, to pause all worry, to sit somewhere alone and appreciate the beauty in the mundane. And we can appreciate those moments of heaviness, of dissociation.

I'm not a complete martyr here. I love watching Lila play, and I love crouching on the ground with her while she's stacking blocks. I can almost see her eyes brighten when I join her for playtime. She flickers like a bit of energy is shown on her, like a warm spotlight. Sometimes, she launches into a flow of toddler words, a bubbly ramble, clearly explaining something to me deeply cherished by her — the colors of the blocks, how she stacked them herself.

These moments, though simple, are fleeting. It's these instances that my love for Lila expands, even when I'm weary. Even when I'm bored, these moments are what make motherhood so painfully profound. I think, I’m here. I’m in it. I am buried in a listlessness I’m going to want back someday. If I could just … grasp it. If I could just use my boredom to memorize it: The curves of play, the plum fruitiness of her hair, how she cups her lips just so when she’s concentrating. Those little things.

Like Tolentino says, it’s the submission of play and caring for a child that’s the holy part. We submit our entire bodies to our children: our breasts, knees, hips, time, sleep, everything. Play, in some way, signifies a voluntary act of surrender. We get down on our knees, and pretend a purple block is a skyscraper. It’s unimaginable and it’s possible.

While we pretend, I watch Lila’s cheeks puff up, that top lip a small dome as she concentrates. I listen to her busy breathing, knowing that she won't always let me be this close. I long to place my hand on her back to support her standing, but she's too agile, and her back is too small. So, I sit there, basking in the warmth of my metaphorical rays on her back.

Sometimes, stacking blocks can be boring. But god, it is holy.

1. Listening to Leighton Meester talk about her beauty routine is SO SOOTHING.

2. This article, “The sluttiest thing a man can do is read” because YAH. (Dazed)

3. I have no idea what this movie about or what it means but I can’t wait for it to come out. Dakota Johnson and Pedro Pascal AND Chris Evans? Okay! And honestly this comment on the post.

   

4. This home design site is so cute! And relatively affordable. And when I say “relatively” I mean that I still see a stripped pillow cover for $80.

5. I want to read this book! Summary: In an era when "self-care" often revolves around consumption and profit, a health and science journalist emphasizes the genuine health advantages of a culture of caring.

6. My sister and I made this … very important playlist.

7. This interview with publishing overlord Graydon Carter is actually very refreshing and relevant. My favorite section is below. His thoughts on Substack? We’re writing TOO MUCH. Aww, whatever. (Interview Magazine)

   

8. Air Supply’s “In the Garden” collection and guide to tending your plot in style. These are wonderful housewarming gift ideas! I won’t be spending $130 on a wooden garden trug, but I love the idea.

9. Cup of Jo covered a low-key wedding on Lake Superior. And I think it’s absolutely perfect.

10. THIS IS JOURNALISM! Eloise King-Clements writes about how servers in New York stay beautiful; details their in-depth beauty routines. It’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve read in a while. And I want her to write a book about it. This line: "The business of food and beauty has forever been in a glissade towards each other, like Austenian lovers, corseted and thirsty.” Beautiful. So beautiful.

11. I found these buttons at shop in Stillwater, Minnesota. My sister and I picked out a few that defined us personally. This was my grouping:

    

    CATS.

12. If you’re thinking about having a second baby, read this by

    Victoria de la Fuente
    .

13. I need an every day scent that doesn’t break the bank. I’ve heard good things about this floral perfume. (Air Mail)

14. This TikTok screenshot shared by

    Kate Baer
    .

    

15. Ending with: A good, lidded box for kid’s toy storage!