Basic Instincts

I’ve been reading a book set during the first and second world wars and it has highlighted to me just how little information people had in those days. They survived in horrible conditions using the most basic of survival tools, human instinct. Today we have access to so much information I can’t help but wonder whether or not human instinct is becoming dulled by mountains of, often conflicting, advice.

Take the ‘experts’ for example. I have already admitted to having shelves full of self help books all designed to make my life easier, make me a better mother, teach me to be more organised or how to win at online poker. Millions of people around the world put their faith in these experts, me included, but most if not all, of these things should be a matter of instinct surely? And of those that aren’t, how many are teachable?

Why would these people know any better than us what’s right for us or indeed our children? Now that we have access to so much information maybe we don’t need experts, everything need is right at our fingertips.

These days we can learn anything from the internet (not necessarily from trustworthy sources admittedly) so technically we could all be our own doctor, lawyer, parenting guru. I know I Google at least ten times a day to find answers to random questions; what is this rash on my child’s arm, how old is Lady Gaga, and recipes for random meals. Even when my mum asks me to help with her crossword, my netbook is never far away (is that cheating? Maybe).

How often have you Googled your symptoms before rolling up to the doctor armed with the latest research into one disease or another? Does it mean we listen to the doctor less and can we trust them if they have never heard of a drug we are requesting?

I recently had to renew our household insurance. A task that pre-internet would have taken a matter of minutes, took literally hours while I scoured the comparison sites, weighing up the pro’s and con’s of each company, before eventually settling, amid an all consuming paranoia that I could have got a far better deal elsewhere. The same with mobile phone contracts, buying cars… we now have so much information and are so well informed that it has not only taken the mystery out of life but also, in some cases, an element of common sense.

Have our instincts become so skewed by knowing so much, having access to so much information, that we wouldn’t be able to survive without it?

Sometimes I worry what would happen to me if I was stuck on a dessert island without access to all these answers, would my survival instinct kick in or would I perish without it? I wouldn’t miss my iPod, or telly, but I would miss my beloved Google.

I know I couldn’t live without Google. I rely on it far too heavily. But it’s my thirst for knowledge that drives it, not necessarily a lack of instinct.

We often have no choice but to put a lot of trust into people we believe know more than us, doctors, politicians, lawyers. All these people tell us what is right for us, what is best for us, how to keep ourselves healthy, safe, protect our assets. But we now have the potential power to check and even question the knowledge of these people we put so much faith in. Are they doing the right thing by us? I wonder whether all this information is giving us a better or worse quality of life. In the book I’m reading the people face a huge amount of hardship, but they seem, more often than not, happy; far happier than we seem to be today as a more knowledgeable, less trusting society.

I have a feeling that that happiness came from an inner trust in their own instincts, something that we have come to question in later years. We have so many people telling us we don’t know how to do things right, that maybe we are starting to believe them. Knowledge is power but sometimes ignorance is bliss.

I realise I am an extreme case. I am a complete info-aholic. I absolutely love knowing things, not because I don’t trust my own instincts just because learning is my passion. I’m not a know all by any stretch, and would never ever profess to know any more than any other person about a particular subject. In fact, rather inconveniently, I don’t tend to remember what I’ve learned, but for one or two delicious seconds I actually do have a level of knowledge, before it unfortunately slips away within hours.

Sometimes I long for the innocence and simplicity of the days before Google, when the only choice of recipes were either kept in memory or a single dog-eared copy of Delia Smith, insurance renewal meant a quick call to your local friendly broker, and if you didn’t know the answer to a question on a crossword you either gave up or waited for the answers next week (none of this hazy “is it cheating” nonsense).

Now, what to do today while the man is off work? The simple answer would be the park. But I have my trusty Google to ensure we squeeze as much fun out of this day of freedom as possible. I just have to choose between 10 different days out, which will take me a few hours, and by the time we actually get anywhere I will be exhausted. Maybe the park would be a better option.

Bank Holiday Blues

I’m feeling a bit out of sorts today. It’s May Bank Holiday here in the UK and like many mums, I am feeling a responsibility to come up with a fun activity the family can do together, which doesn’t involve huge crowds, lots of money or potential altercations with other children (or their parents).

But the trouble with Bank Holidays is that every other person in the country is also on holiday, so all but the dullest activities are ruined by serious over crowding, and the palpable atmosphere of wild eyed people desperate to have ‘fun’.

It is yet another sign of our times that we feel this pressure to do something and make the most of all the opportunities available to us. We know that next weeks school conversation will be centred on Bank Holiday activities, and we want to give our children something exciting to report. Tales of theme parks and camping weekends will prevail, only for one annoying kid (with equally annoying parents) to gleefully relate his story of crocodile catching in America or something just as random/expensive/educational and trump everyone.

And it’s not so different in the adult world. The more competitive mothers will enjoy telling the rest of us not so organised, outgoing, rich or frankly, good, parents about how they took their kids to a paint your own crockery event, followed by a trip to the theatre and dinner at a Michelin star restaurant. All very civilised, I’m sure. I will be with the group of mums skulking off so I don’t have to admit that I guiltily sat my kids in front of “Cars” for the millionth time with some ready made popcorn, so me and the man could snuggle up on the end of the sofa for a rare but much needed daytime nap.

I like to think of myself as a fairly social person, I like to be around other people and feel like I’m part of something bigger than myself but often dealing with other people (and their kids) is what makes outings with children stressful.

I remember regularly leaving toddler groups in tears because son number one had pushed some poor child over (a favourite game of both my children unfortunately), but the other child, and more scarily the other child’s mother, did not see it as playful.

With son number 2, a frighteningly strong 21 month old, I tend to avoid toddler groups, and pretty much any situation where he will encounter children of a vulnerable or nervous disposition. For, like a lion preying on wildebeests, he is likely to hone in on the weakest member of the pack and attack without warning. Not that he sees it as attack you understand, to him he is the life and soul of the toddler party, pushing a kid over then climbing on him is fun for all concerned in his little mind. Unfortunately, it doesn’t look like that to other kids, or their cross parents. And me being the guilt ridden, easily embarrassed person that I am, end up feeling devastated that I have borne such a social monster. Thankfully I don’t need to take him out so much because being the second child he has an older brother (and therefore all of his older and more robust friends) to play with, a welcome relief for me.

I would like a nice day out. I want to have some fun with my family. But the thought of being stuck in a queue, walking round a museum or theme park downwind of the same slow/smelly/annoyingly rich/enthusiastic (or all of the above) family for hours, then being ripped off in the gift shop, restaurant and ice cream stand fills me with dread. And it’s not just me, it’s the man too. How do some people seem to be able to over look all that and enjoy days out with millions of other people, while the rest of us look tight or miserable because we would rather saw off our own arm?

A friend and her family went to Disneyland Paris recently, a very worthy Bank Holiday weekend activity, and said how brilliant it was. Eight foot high Mickey Mouse notwithstanding, it’s the thought of being herded around a park rammed full of over excited children and stressed, bewildered parents that puts me off. Give me Disney Junior, a few packets of crisps and snacks and a comfy sofa any day. I realise I will have to brave Disneyland in the future. It’s on my check list of things I must do at some stage, along with jumping out of a plane and running the London Marathon (neither of which are anywhere near fruition I have to point out). I never went as a child. Of course in those days you had to fly across the Atlantic to get there, which gave my parents a bit more of an excuse. Now we have a Disneyland on our own continent, a new generation of parents don’t have the same get out clause.

Bank Holidays are like weekends with increased pressure to have ‘fun’ or ‘do something worthwhile’, plus the added stress of everywhere being overcrowded with millions of other people feeling the same pressure to have ’fun’ or ‘do something worthwhile’. I love the idea of Bank Holidays, but they are always more exciting in theory than reality. When all is said and done I can’t actually wait for things to get back to normal and the pressure to make the most of this rare and wonderful day is removed. Roll on Tuesday.