Playtime

In 2001, Dave, myself and a few friends loaded into a big, blue van and headed south to Anaheim. CA. Disneyland to be precise. And while we'd made this trek several times over the years, this particular trip holds a special place in my heart.

Our vehicle, a big, blue, beast of a van ran on propane... a popular thing to have at some point in time, but it wasn't a fad that really caught on... especially not in the United States south of Washington. But we didn't know that, we just knew we had a vehicle to get us there. So we jumped in that borrowed vehicle at 7 pm on a rainy Sunday, hell-bent for Disney, with not a care in the world... until the first time we had to propane-up. And thus the fueling adventure began.

Propane is not readily available for vehicles. And if you do find a service station that does have a big tank, there must also be an employee certified to pump it. So, once our tank was half full, we began to search for gas stations that served propane. All through the night, one person drove, one person looked for propane and the others prayed that we wouldn't be stranded on the side of the road. By 7 am, we were pretty exhausted and running on fumes. We pulled into the one gas station we could see that had a propane tower and we're planning to sit in the parking lot until a propane-certified attendant was on duty... we couldn't drive a mile more.

But fuel wasn't our only issue. In Oregon, driving down a dark highway between semi-trucks, we realized that we couldn't see a thing. The wipers were useless. Off the highway, we headed, to purchase new blades at a gas station. Back on, to fight the down-pour.

And somewhere, early on, we'd lost our muffler, hus rendering all our mixed tapes completely useless as we couldn't hear a thing, so loud was the noise of the beast. Oh, and that meant very little conversation also.

So making it through the night and finally, on the road again after our 7 am fuel stop, we were feeling good as the skies began to brighten. Maybe this wasn't the worst idea in the world... and then our tire blew out. Pull over, change tire, pull off highway, find LeSchwab, wait for them to open, buy new tire and get going.

Start the search for the next propane stop.

A trip that would normally take about 22 hours including stops, took 29 hours. At 2 am on Tuesday, we pulled into our campground. No muffler, trying very hard not to rev the engine of the big, blue beast. We set up camp as quietly as possible and passed out.

The beast didn't move for 5 days. Then we had to reverse the trip and head home... and do you think we recorded where we stopped for propane on the way south? Absolutely not!

But we made it. And had the best time. That trip is one of my life's highlights. It was fun. Even in the chaos, we had a blast. The laughter that brought tears, the stress that brought tears, it was all part of the adventure package. And what an adventure it was.

So fast forward a zillion years, and I'm sitting here in my house with my husband and 5 boys and I'm wondering where that sense of fun and adventure went. I used to be fun. I used to have an imagination and be up for whatever tomfoolery we could think of. Now, I'm just kind of cranky.

What changed? Are you really just more fun when you're younger? When does that stop? Why does is stop? It's not like we had money back then or cleary, a reliable vehicle. It's not like we had extra time, we were students with jobs. We had rent and needed to eat. We even had a certain sense of responsibility.

So what did change? Why am I not fun anymore? Where has my sense of play gone?

Edwin Friedman says, "A major criterion for judging the anxiety level of any society is the loss of it's capacity to be playful."

Yup. Anxiety has definitely increased. So what's up with that? My problems aren't bigger than they were 20 years ago.

Is it that I'm responsible for tiny humans now? Maybe... I do want to grow them up right.

It is that I want my house to be pretty or my car to be fast? Meh... not really... I can drive pretty quick in my mini-van and the tiny humans destroy nice things.

But I've lived off of $12 in the bank account before, why would that be a problem now? Before it was just part of being human, almost a rite of passage among the student crowd, but now I have heart palpitations if the bank account dips below whatever the current budget mandates.

So maybe the anxiety comes from having a mortgage and all the house repairs? Or maybe it comes from having highly-emotionally-sensitive children? Or maybe from having a van that needs repairs? Again, yup! But so what? Am I allowing those stressors to replace my pretty freaking awesome fun side? UGH! Not a good choice, Bex.

Now I'm faced with a choice... continue as usual in my cranky way, or re-introduce play into my life.

It's not a hard choice. It's not like a 180 degree swing is easy but I know that my pretty freaking awesome fun side is not that far gone. It's just buried under years of anxious debris. A little sort through that debris and soon I'll be dug out. Dirty maybe, dusty and stiff from un-use, but the more I practice playing, the better I'll get. And it's not like I haven't done anything fun in the last while... I do have 5 kids (wink, wink)... but really, I do have fun with my kids and my husband (another wink), and my dog and my friends... (don't insert winks after all of those... it's getting out of hand)...

But I guess what I'm realizing is that play is not my normal, natural way of being. I don't look to creativity and curiosity before looking at the stress of a situation. And I don't love that. I don't want the fear of not finding gas to stop me from going on the adventure. I want to go forth boldly, knowing that there will be tough times on the adventure but I can weather them. Or better yet, I can find the fun in them.

Except boardgames... I won't do boardgames. Mountain biking, roller coasters, painting, bungee jumping, sand castle building... just please, no boardgames.