2025-04-21 Emacs news

| emacs, emacs-news

Links from reddit.com/r/emacs, r/orgmode, r/spacemacs, r/planetemacs, Mastodon #emacs, Bluesky #emacs, Hacker News, lobste.rs, programming.dev, lemmy.world, lemmy.ml, planet.emacslife.com, YouTube, the Emacs NEWS file, Emacs Calendar, and emacs-devel. Thanks to Andrés Ramírez for emacs-devel links. Do you have an Emacs-related link or announcement? Please e-mail me at sacha@sachachua.com. Thank you!

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IndieWeb April 2025: Renewal

| parenting

The IndieWeb writing prompt for April 2025 is renewal.

One of the things that I struggled with in the early days of parenting was the repetitive nature of my day. Every two- or three-hour cycle brought the same kinds of tasks: nursing, diapers, snuggles, sleep. Nothing could be crossed off a to-do list, nothing stayed done. Nothing built up towards tangible accomplishment, or at least, not for me.

There was change. A+ grew by leaps and bounds. One day she could only roll in one direction; the next she could roll every which way. My job was to take care of the foundation so that she could grow, to take care of all the repetitive tasks so that she could have all her firsts.

I remember thinking of the Zen kōan (sometimes attributed to Wu Li and sometimes elsewhere)

Before enlightenment; chop wood, carry water. After enlightenment; chop wood, carry water.

I don't claim to understand this fully yet, but I remember reasoning: these things had to be done. I signed up for them. Every day we still need to take care of ourselves and others. Some people make major lifestyle changes and forgo a high income in order to shift to a contemplative monastic life with the same kind of cycles. I can do it where I am. Maybe I can even treat them as moving meditations.

I recently finished reading The Courage to Be Disliked (Fumitake Koga and Ichiro Kishimi, 2013). Part of the book talks about seeing life as a dance:

Do not treat [life] as a line. Think of life as a series of dots. … Life is a series of moments, which one lives as if one were dancing, right now, around and around each passing instant. And when one happens to survey one's surroundings, one realizes, I guess I've made it this far. … With dance, it is the dancing itself that is the goal, and no one is concerned with arriving somewhere by doing it. Naturally, it may happen that one arrives somewhere as a result of having danced. Since one is dancing, one does not stay in the same place. But there is no destination.

Thanks to that tide of ever-renewing tasks that engulfed my day in the beginning and is only now beginning to calm, I've been slowly learning to let go of the desire for my own forward motion. I circle, and circle, and circle, and that's okay. I'm settling into the rhythm of our days, knowing that the beat will change over time. Sometimes I look up and I'm surprised at how far we've come.

… Aaaaaaand now I've got Dancing Through Life in my head. I definitely fall on the side of overthinking things more than swanning my way through life, but maybe I can learn more about relaxing into it.

Another comforting thought, this time from Meditations for Mortals (Oliver Burkeman, 2024), about how we don't have to do something extraordinary:

The first is that it simply need not follow, from our cosmic insignificance as individuals, that our actions don't matter. The idea that things only count if they count on the vastest scale is one more expression of our discomfort with finitude: accepting that they might count only transiently, or locally, requires us to face our limitations and our mortality. … Instead, you get to pour yourself into tasks that matter for no other reason than that nothing could be more enlivening, or more true to the situation in which you find yourself.

My life is still mostly full of the everyday rhythms, but that's okay. I don't change diapers any more, but there are still dishes to be done and snuggles to snuggle. When W- offers to do the dishes, I can say, "Thanks, I got it, I enjoy this part." In between, I'm slowly reclaiming time to do my own accumulation of progress. I'm even beginning to be able to write about life. Now I feel more at ease with the undirectedness of it, the little steps in my own dance.

• • • • •

Sometimes, of course, we stumble during the dance. Life with A+ isn't always smooth. Sometimes I (figuratively or literally) step on her foot. Sometimes we're out of sync. Sometimes we have a bad day. I'm learning that I don't have to feel too guilty about it, or try to fix it right away, or worry that I've permanently messed things up. Today, I can take the loss, the failure. Tomorrow is another day, another renewal. We can try something else then.

Besides, there's no point in trying to sort things out in the moment, when people are dysregulated. Better to take notes and figure out what to experiment with next time. There's so much to learn, and that's good.

This is probably something I'm going to need to remember when we head into adolescence, for at least as long as there are tomorrows I can share with A+.

• • • • •

That's the last aspect of renewal that I wanted to touch on: how parenting is helping me (re-)learn and examine all sorts of things. The skill of figuring things out together. The lessons that A+ is taking at school. The things I find fun. The hang-ups I've been carrying within me since my own childhood, and how I can untangle them. The parks and playgrounds and libraries in the city. The joy of sunshine. The way seeds sprout and perennials return in the garden. Everything is new all over again.

This is probably something I'll want to learn as much about during my kid-phase so that I can still enjoy it in my post-kid phase. I think the people who age the most gracefully are the ones who keep wondering, learning, and enjoying life, both familiar ground and the new opportunities that arise. I'd like to be one of those people. Renewal isn't just about going back to a previous state, like an axolotl regrowing a lost limb. Even with the rhythm of the same steps in this dance, I can find myself in new places, and I myself am changed.

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Playfulness

| parenting, play

Assumed audience: I'm writing this for:

  • me: I want to remember what this is like, celebrate my progress so far, and look ahead
  • maybe other parents who also find themselves still figuring out playfulness

Achievement unlocked: I made A+ giggle so much that she started hiccuping

She had had a case of the meh​s. After a little bit of empathizing, I flung myself over her and declared that she wasn't going anywhere, I was just going to snuggle her. It was my evil plan. I cackled a little, and then asked her for tips on proper cackling. Was it "MwahaHAha, or MwaHAhaha, or MWAhahaha?"

She said, "Meh."

I rolled with it. "Meh heh heh heh."

Ah, there, a little giggle.

I hammed it up some more. "Meh HEH heh heh heh." More and more cackling, until she was giggling continuously. She giggled so much that she started hiccuping.

"You're so funny," she said between sips of water.

That might be the only time I'll hear that from her, so I'm immortalizing it in my blog. And yes, correlation doesn't mean causation, and n=1 anyway, but I'm still going to take the win.

Play didn't come easily to me

I didn't quite know what play could look like for us, in the early days. Some parents seem to effortlessly break out silly voices or play pretend with toys. In the beginning, that felt awkward, even though I'd grown up with my dad telling captivating stories complete with sound effects and gestures. As a new parent, I often felt tired and my mind kept sliding away. It was easier to let A+ take the lead, and to focus on things like supporting and documenting. That was probably the right call for both of our personalities. From time to time, I come across parenting articles that even recommend this approach of letting the child do most of the directing. Serve and return, that's all, I just needed to keep the rhythm going; when A+ leads, I can focus on responding. I didn't even have to do it all the time; I could be a good-enough parent.

When A+ was interested in stacking blocks, I felt my job was mostly to observe and narrate appreciatively, and also to help tidy up. When she was fascinated with the water table at the Science Centre, my job was to bring dry clothes to change into. When she started building with LEGO, I helped her find pieces, but I didn't really spur her on with build ideas or roleplaying. When she moved on tea parties, I accepted my share of muddy teacups and sand cupcakes. At 9, A+ mostly likes to sing, play Minecraft, and make up stories with me. That's something I'm more comfortable with.

I'm somewhat reassured by the Slate essay Playtime Is Over!:

If you meet the child on his level and mostly watch what they’re doing instead, it’s still an act of love and attention without being such a draining experience.

I never quite felt comfortable staging those playacting dramas that would probably have helped A+ develop better social skills, like pretending one doll has accidentally bumped another one so that we could explore apologies and acceptance. I probably wouldn't have been able to get it past A+, anyway; she's pretty good at sniffing out when I'm pretending to play instead of playing pretend.

Resources

I was pretty worried in the beginning. The first six months of A+'s life were a bit of a blur, with quite a few diagnostic exams and follow-up appointments at Sick Kids Hospital. She went under general anaesthesia a couple of times, so I was extra nervous about the possible impact on her growth.1 It's hard to be playful when you're tired and anxious. Anyway, it was just what's got to be done, so we focused on figuring out how to mitigate the risks by enriching her environment. I applied to the Healthy Babies Healthy Children program, and we got approved. We regularly met with a nurse and a home visitor who helped us keep track of A+'s development, suggested relevant activities, and gave me feedback on my interactions with A+. (My notes)

I still wanted to learn more about play. We went to libraries and EarlyON child and family centres for songs, storytime, and free play. One of our favourites was the EarlyON centre at Indian Road Crescent, where Ms. Lesley was basically how I imagine Mr. Rogers or Calypso: kind, appreciative, and wise. I reach for her voice in my head when I want a model for how to talk to kids.

Thank goodness for Bluey, too, which not only demonstrated a whole trove of little games that we could play, but also helped me imagine more playful parenting with the examples of Bandit and Chilli. Bluey's totally a parenting show disguised as a kids' cartoon. A+ often suggests playing games from Bluey, like:

  • Shadowlands: walk only on shadows
  • Bandit's version of Follow the Leader: kids hide right behind leader, leader complains (from Daddy Putdown)
  • Come Here / Go Away: played on the swing, where the humour also comes from the complaints (from Daddy Putdown)

I also borrowed all the books on play that I could find, like Playful Parenting (Lawrence J. Cohen, 2008) and Play (Stuart Brown, Christopher Vaughan, 2009), because of course I'd try to learn about play from books. Might be time to reread them, come to think of it.

Figuring out our types of play

Thanks to all these different resources, I found lots of ideas to try. Experimenting helped me gradually figure out the things that resonated with both A+ and me. I liked the music classes that A+ and I went to when she was younger. We also read and read and read. I couldn't quite do the cheerful patter I sometimes heard from other parents, but songs and books helped me fill in the times when I didn't have much to say to A+. I found another little form of play to share with her, changing the words in a book or a song so that she'd laughingly correct me. She started talking at 18 months, a little on the late side of normal, but quickly expanded her vocabulary. (Also totally fine now.)

It wasn't all cerebral, of course. A+ liked the vestibular stimulation of swinging, so we spent a lot of time at the playground. She also likes climbing and hugs, so I boost her up to monkey bars and I snuggle her for as long as she likes.

A+ likes to dive deeply into her interests, and I like to go along with her. Over the years, I've learned a lot about sharks, Rubik's cubes, Star Wars, and Minecraft. That's our kind of play, too. We have some running jokes now. For example, on learning that nurse sharks might possibly trick fish into a false shelter and then ambush them,2 we had fun imagining a nurse shark holding a "Definitely not a trap" sign. This sketch doesn't quite have the shark pointing upwards, but it was fun anyhow.

20210225_131429 Nurse shark - I will not eat you - Totally not a trap #me.jpg
20210225_131429 Nurse shark - I will not eat you - Totally not a trap #me.jpg

I'm learning a lot about play from life with A+. I'm learning that it can look different from person to person. I tend to have a quieter type of play, and that's okay. Also, if I don't feel like playing a particular way, it's good to say so. We can usually figure out something else, or I can figure out what I need and then check in again when I'm ready.

I'm upfront about still figuring all of this out. I think it's good for her to see that. Sure, it would make more sense for fun to be natural and effortless, but this is the kind of person I am, so I've got to work with what I've got–and that's enjoyable too, in its own way.

One of the things that's been helping me is seeing A+ also learn about and accept her own play preferences. At the playground, A+ often takes a break when her friends play a shrieky sort of game like tag. She knows she doesn't like those kinds of games, and she can find other things to do until her friends move on. She usually comes and hangs out with me instead. Sometimes we go play one of our own games. Then she heads back to check in with her friends, and they all go off to play something else.

It's fun watching A+ figure things out. When she had a hard time settling down at bedtime the other night, she suggested taking turns reading a book. I agreed, of course. I'll always say yes when she offers to read out loud, and reading out loud lets me play our old game of changing things up. "I knew you'd say yes to that," she crowed. She's learning to offer games we both like.

We're both learning about ourselves through play. Reading about play personalities, I think: ah, my dad was a joker, even towards the end of his life; one time he stashed an ice cube under his tongue to prank the nurse who came in to check his temperature. My sister's a bit of one too with her witty rejoinders. A+ might be a storyteller considering her fascination with story variations. I might be a creator, considering my list of crafty hobbies and the fun I have tweaking Emacs. Play is fun, and fun is great for self-knowledge.

Some things that seem to be working for us for now

Physical play: Pretty good way to get her out of a grump. I can challenge her to tackle-hug me: she'll try her best to push me over and collapse on me with a hug, then I'll try my best to wrap her up and prevent her from escaping. I can carry her on my back and whirl around. I can lift her up to the chin-up bar.

Clapping games: We can play Double Double This This or Slide pretty much anywhere.

Bubbles: We like bubbles. We even make our own giant bubble mix following the guar gum recipe on the Soap Bubble wiki. We've decided not to bring giant bubbles to the park when there are lots of kids around, though, because then we tend to get swarmed by other kids and it's a little stressful for A+. It's something to enjoy at small playdates.

Wordplay: It's fun to come up with puns and variations on songs. She's getting pretty good at it too.

Drawing: Silly faces are fun and easy to make. Pictionary is also good.

Singing: Good way to get in sync. We like to sing songs from Disney movies and from Wicked. There's a fair bit of research about maternal singing3, and entrainment4 might have prosocial effects even for older kids. Besides, music is fun, and we can do it pretty much anywhere.

Robot: Lots of chores get done by the Chore-Bot 9.0. A+ is amused whenever I'm a hug-bot. She also likes it when I'm a scientist or engineer investigating the functions of this mysterious device that seems to be powered by hugs.

Minecraft: Inside, we play in Bedrock if I've got the patience to reboot out of Linux and into Windows, or Java if we want to play in the world we share with W+. A+ likes to start up new worlds to try out different ideas or add-ons, so I'm slowly learning how to be less attached to any particular world.

Our shared Minecraft experiences even help us pass the time at the playground. We often play pretend Minecraft. I don't mind being the odd grown-up who's pretending to mine for iron or run away from skeletons. I think A+ enjoys rescuing me from the predicaments I make up for myself. ("Oh no, there's an Enderman! Aah! Don't look at it!" "Here's a pumpkin I carved!")

Stories: A+ loves making up stories related to Disney or Star Wars characters. Sometimes we use the fortunately/unfortunately structure to improvise a story, and sometimes we just pile things on. When I'm tired, it's hard for me to imagine enough to improvise, but I'm glad that I can explore some of her "what if" questions with ideas translated from fanfic. She also does a bit of LLM-prompting of story ideas, and she includes those in some of our bedtime improvisation as well.

Looking ahead

I've got maybe a year or two of A+ wanting to play with us before she focuses on playing with other people. I'll take that however it looks: screen time when that's what she feels like, park time whenever we can. I'm not terribly worried about screentime. I know that it can take a while to get her outside, but then she wants to stay at the park for as long as possible. It's easier to get her outside when we have playdates, which we schedule fairly regularly. When it's just me, we go with the flow.

Here's what I'm keeping an eye out for to help me get better at playing with A+:

  • Managing my own patience: It's a lot easier to play when I'm well-rested, I'm not fretting, and I don't have an unfinished task hogging my brainspace.5
  • Seeing the invitation properly: "Can we play together?" means "I want to connect with you." So does "I'm bored bored bored bored bored."
  • Building our play vocabulary: Bluey is totally research, yeah, that's why I'm watching it. There's also paying attention to the little things that A+ and I are curious about or enjoy. The more things we try, the more ideas we can combine.

It's child's play, and that's why it's worth it.

Footnotes

1

The Effect of General Anesthesia on the Developing Brain: Appreciating Parent Concerns While Allaying Their Fears - Anesthesia Patient Safety Foundation was a bit reassuring. There's been more recent research too, and it's a bit mixed.

2

Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations:

Young nurse sharks have been observed resting with their snouts pointed upward and their bodies supported off the bottom on their pectoral fins; this has been interpreted as possibly providing a false shelter for crabs and small fishes that the shark then ambushes and eats.

3

Here's one example: Markova, G., Nguyen, T., Schätz, C. and De Eccher, M. (2020). Singing in Tune – Being in Tune: Relationship Between Maternal Playful Singing and Interpersonal Synchrony. Enfance, 1(1), 89-107. https://doi.org/10.3917/enf2.201.0089.

Results showed that 38 dyads spontaneously engaged in social game routines. In these dyads, both playful singing and rhyming were positively associated with dyadic gaze synchrony, while only playful singing was also positively correlated with affect synchrony of the dyad. These findings suggest that rhythms, in general, may have important implications for the establishment of interpersonal synchrony in infant-caregiver dyads. However, musical rhythms seem to be particularly emotionally-salient and thus attune both interactional partners to the affective content of their social exchanges.

4

Interpersonal Entrainment in Music Performance | Music Perception | University of California Press

A variety of studies have revealed that synchronized movement, both musical and otherwise, can affect attitudes and cooperative behaviors toward one’s co-actors.

5

Ovsiankina effect: unfinished tasks cause intrusive thoughts. See also: The psychology of unfinished tasks: the Zeigarnik and Ovsiankina effects

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2025-04-14 Emacs news

| emacs, emacs-news

Links from reddit.com/r/emacs, r/orgmode, r/spacemacs, r/planetemacs, Mastodon #emacs, Bluesky #emacs, Hacker News, lobste.rs, programming.dev, lemmy.world, lemmy.ml, planet.emacslife.com, YouTube, the Emacs NEWS file, Emacs Calendar, and emacs-devel. Thanks to Andrés Ramírez for emacs-devel links. Do you have an Emacs-related link or announcement? Please e-mail me at sacha@sachachua.com. Thank you!

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Week ending April 11, 2025: sidenotes, on this day, life

| review, weekly

I enjoyed walking in the park this week, and we started gardening too. Good counterbalance to the chaos of whatever the US is doing. I also enjoyed writing more about life.

I added sidenotes duplicated as footnotes to my blog, inspired by citationneeded.news. The sidenotes should show up on my blog if you have Javascript enabled and the window is reasonably wide. I like the way sidenotes allow me to me add a little more context than a plain hyperlink. Unlike the tangents that I've been tucking into <details> elements, I don't even have to wait until the end of the paragraph.

I also added an On This Day RSS feed, which I've added to my feed reader. I've been using it more than the web view to bump into my old posts. Thanks to Memexes, mountain lakes, and the serendipity of old ideas (Interconnected) for the inspiration.1 Ooh, let me go add sketches to the RSS feed… Might add them to the web view as well at some point.

W-, A+, and I regularly played Minecraft after dinner. This week, I set up tunnels going to a trial chamber in the overworld and to a blaze spawner in the Nether. A+ wants to get more XP in a safe way, so I think I'll work on setting up some XP farms. There's a skeleton spawner not too far from our base, so that's probably a good start.

Blog posts

Sketches

Toots

  • I hadn't realized that there was an #OrgMeetup [on Wednesday], didn't notice @yantar92's email on my phone, and I totally missed both announcing it in Emacs News getting the BigBlueButton server up. I've now added it as a recurring entry on my calendar and I've added cronjobs for the next six months so that BigBlueButton will probably scale up and down automatically. I'm so glad Ihor had Jitsi as a backup. Whoops! Embarrassing… (toot)
  • I like the Hourly Comics Day in https://anhvn.com/posts/2025/weeknotes-29/ . (toot)
  • The kiddo helped me add composted cow manure to the front garden. We planted radishes (Scarlet Globe, Easter Egg II Blend) and poppies (Flemish Antique Peony, Canada Mix, and Purple Peony). (toot)

  • I saw this snippet in a 2016 interview in Psychology Today with T. Berry Brazelton: (toot)

    “BB: I've just finished writing a book, The Final Touchpoint I'd like to get that out there. There are better and worse ways to handle our aging, our denial of it, our acceptance, and—as Erik Erikson put it—our being generative, to produce as much as we can while we can. I'm 98 but I'm still trying to be generative.”

    He died two years after the interview and I don't think The Final Touchpoint has been published, but it might be interesting to find similar books.

Time
Category The other week % Last week % Diff % h/wk Diff h/wk
Discretionary - Play 1.1 3.8 2.7 6.4 4.5
Discretionary - Productive 21.6 24.2 2.5 40.6 4.3
Sleep 30.6 31.7 1.1 53.3 1.9
Discretionary - Family 0.1 1.0 0.9 1.6 1.5
A+ 26.2 26.4 0.3 44.4 0.4
Business 0.6 0.2 -0.4 0.3 -0.7
Unpaid work 3.6 2.1 -1.5 3.5 -2.5
Personal 16.1 10.6 -5.6 17.8 -9.4

More writing and drawing this week, which was nice. I still haven't gotten around to figuring out how to squeeze those front-end consulting requests in, since they take a fair bit of context and concentration. It's okay.

Footnotes

1

“Naturally there's an On This Day web feed too so these posts appear in my newsreader each morning. Some personal serendipity to start the day.”

Memexes, mountain lakes, and the serendipity of old ideas (Interconnected) (my toot)

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A typical weekday

| life, parenting, time

2025-04-10-01 A typical weekday -- life
2025-04-10-01 A typical weekday -- life

Text and links from sketch

A typical weekday

family time: 11/16 hours, me time: 5/16 hours

  • 7 AM: Morning routines
  • 8 AM: piano practice
  • 9 AM: gardening, recess
  • 10 AM: Walk, braindump
  • 11 AM: Lunch
  • 12 PM: focus time: code, write, draw, read, do stuff
  • 1 PM: tidying, recess
  • 2 PM: writing, hanging out with A+
  • 3 PM: hang out with A+
  • 4 PM: sometimes a play date
  • 5 PM: dinner with W- & A+
  • 6 PM: chores, evening routine
  • 7 PM: hang out with W- and A+: Minecraft; watching; Pictionary, other games
  • 8 PM: hang out with W- and A+
  • 9 PM: A+'s bedtime routine
  • 10 PM: call my mom, read

Context: A+ is 9 and in virtual grade 3. W- is retired.

https://sachachua.com/2025-04-10-01

Feel free to use this under the Creative Commons Attribution License.

I came across Hourly Comic Day1 in anhvn's weeknotes. I've been meaning to make some kind of timeline, even if it doesn't feel as insightful or humorous as other people's comics. That's a skill, I can develop it. Besides, capturing bits and pieces of my life now is likely to be something I'm glad for later on.

Some things I notice:

I'm A+'s default parent, so she comes to me for snuggles during recess and lunch, and she wants to spend time with me when she's bored. She's 9, as I keep reminding myself, so this is a time-limited offer. It's amazing. At the moment, she often chooses to hug me instead of read books or play Minecraft, or chooses to play Minecraft with me instead of by herself. Inevitably, the day will come when she'll switch to just grunting at me from time to time and then disappear into her room for hours on end. This is the time to snuggle and hang out.

I have maybe an hour of reliable focus time right after lunch. I could have more, but I like setting aside some time for playing the piano and for walking.

conscientiousness-piano.jpg

Playing the piano is an exercise in humility. I can't quite get my fingers to do what I want them to do, and my brain picks up phrases more slowly than I'd like.2 But it's also enjoyable to hear myself learn, so I continue.

Walking is good for me. It's important to keep moving. Biking gets me farther, but I have to pay more attention. Walking helps me have extra thinking time. I take a lapel mic along so that I can use the time to talk to myself. I notice I'm not the only one talking to myself in the park. I also like how I see other people out there with books, or with cameras, or with their lunches, or simply sitting on a bench and enjoying the sun. It's reassuring to see other people enjoying a slower pace.

I usually run out of thoughts to think before I run out of trails to walk. It's interesting. Sometimes I wonder how I might tinker with that. I have plenty of source material to think about from books and life experiences, but maybe I can dig into things further. Or maybe lowering the threshold with stream-of-consciousness dictation will help me bring more of my monkey mind out into the light. It's also okay to enjoy the quiet. Running into the limits of my thoughts makes it easier to use my computer time for tasks or coding instead of staring at a blank text file. When I do find myself drawn to a topic, then the braindumping gives me a head start on figuring out the parts of it that I care about.

I'm here because I choose to be. I could theoretically have a two-hour chunk in the evenings if I really wanted to, but then A+ tends to just watch videos. Sometimes if she's in a video-watching mood, I'll squeeze in some writing or some code, but it's not reliable and she might stop at any time, so I don't like to get into anything too deep.

I haven't been doing much consulting lately, since that's hard to do in small bursts. There are a couple of front-end Javascript requests on my list, but it's a little challenging for me to get into front-end tinkering because I have to load a fair bit of context into my brain when I'm trying to work around the vendor's way of doing things. I'll probably let them know I can't get around to those requests for now. Maybe someday.

I miss being in flow,3 but since that can often result in my experience A+'s desires for connection as an interruption (the Ovsiankina effect4 doesn't help), that's not a good fit for right now. Instead, I'll accept that this is the time for (mostly) fragmentary chaos, but I can still occasionally squeeze in 15 minutes here and there.5 The lack of focused time used to make me a little frustrated and antsy, but I think it's becoming a little easier as A+ becomes more independent. I can both see the light at the end of the tunnel and know that our paths will diverge.

I could have oodles of focused time during the day if A+ were to go to in-person school, but fortunately, I know from my experiment with semi-retirement that I probably won't actually end up writing a book or changing the world even if I have more focused time. Virtual school continues to be a reasonable fit for us.

Since I know I've only got about an hour of focused time a day, I can try to choose things carefully. It's surprisingly freeing, knowing that I'm not going to get to everything.6 I tend to:

  • Code little things for myself, because it's fun and it can make things marginally easier. I like tinkering with Emacs, although sometimes I also write Javascript or Python to automate things.
  • Writing and drawing, because then I can understand and remember things a little better
  • Working on important tasks, like doing our taxes

And then the odds and ends of time can be used for:

  • More writing: usually on my laptop, but sometimes on my phone too. It helps to keep my laptop on the main floor instead of leaving it upstairs.
  • Reading books and blog posts, especially when I can highlight and capture snippets. The iPad has come in handy for this.
  • Coding, but only things that I can put down easily
  • Tidying: always good to stay on top of things

E-mail tends to fall to the bottom of my list, especially e-mails that require thought and consideration. Even reviewing my inbox tends to be lower-priority, unless there's something I remember and want to work on.

April 2025_16.jpeg

So this is my life at the moment. This is already a big step up from before. Since A+ handles virtual school a little more independently now, I can mostly count on a bit of focused time, instead of living my days in interruption limbo.

It's pretty easy-going. It feels a little like we're making this breakwater around a bay, so that A+ can learn the ropes in a reasonably calm environment instead of being buffeted around by the stormy waves outside, and then she can sail out when she's ready. As lives go, this is all right.

Seasons come and seasons go. I'm glad my day gets to look like this. Even if it might seem pretty humdrum, I want to remember it, because there'll be a time when I'll miss us.

Footnotes

1

Hourly comics:

2

Brain speed: I vaguely remember being praised for being able to think quickly when I was younger. I think age, parental rewiring, and periods of sleep deprivation (also due to parenting) have thoroughly scrambled that part of my brain. That's okay. This is life. Gotta work with what I've got.

3

Missing being in flow: gosh, there used to be a time when I felt like I needed to rein in long programming sessions…

4

Ovsiankina effect: unfinished tasks cause intrusive thoughts. See also: The psychology of unfinished tasks: the Zeigarnik and Ovsiankina effects

5

Related: Meditations for Mortals (Oliver Burkeman, 2024):

  • Day Thirteen: Three hours: On finding focus in the chaos
    • Yup, definitely can't find three hours.
  • Day Twenty-one: What’s an interruption, anyway?: On the importance of staying distractible
    • My natural state isn't that of focused attention anyhow.

  • Day Twenty-eight: What matters: On finding your way

    Instead, you get to pour yourself into tasks that matter for no other reason than that nothing could be more enlivening, or more true to the situation in which you find yourself.

    I don't have to do anything that makes a big difference for humankind. I can just do the next little thing.

  • Day Two: Kayaks and superyachts: On actually doing things
    • Perhaps I can do one thing today, and that's okay.
6

Also from Meditations for Mortals (Oliver Burkeman, 2024): "Day One: It’s worse than you think: On the liberation of defeat"

But this is where things get interesting, because an important psychological shift occurs whenever you realise that a struggle you’d been approaching as if it were very difficult is actually completely impossible.

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My words will become her inner voice

| parenting

Trawling through blogs to add to my feed reader, I came across a number of posts related to the February 2025 IndieWeb Carnival theme of affirmations. It nudged me to think about the words I rub into A+'s brain with repetition.

Once a year or so, A+'s virtual school teachers typically play a video about affirmations as part of the social-emotional learning aspect of the curriculum.1 The perky narrator exhorts the listeners to repeat the affirmations after her. A+ doesn't. I don't know if many of the other kids do.

The words I use with A+ are more powerful, so I want to be thoughtful about them. There's this idea floating around: the way we talk to our children becomes their inner voice.2

Here's what I find myself repeating:

  • "You worked hard on that." I'm not 100% clear on the results of the meta-analyses of growth mindset research, but it makes sense to me to focus on acknowledging her effort rather than things that might be considered fixed characteristics. It's a good contrast to the "You're so smart!" that she might get from people impressed by her skills at solving Rubik's cubes or her enjoyment of math. She likes it when I see what she's doing, so I also add specific descriptions, and I extend it with a long-term perspective. Today she excitedly told me about how she worked together with a classmate on their literacy groupwork, so I echoed that back to her and connected it to her growth over time. I also often say "You did that!" and flesh it out with details.
  • "You got this." Because it's important for her to feel my belief and trust in her, and to enjoy confidence and self-efficacy. She's been doing well with increased personal responsibility for things like homework. Sometimes I say "We got this" instead, when we're working together.
  • "You know the way." Because it's extra fun (and extra effective) to sing the things I want her to remember, and because often she already knows the next thing she needs to do and this is a fun way of sending her off. This one is from the We Know the Way song from Moana. I like how I can use snippets of Disney musicals and bring in all the emotional storytelling connected to them. I occasionally touch on another line from that song: "We set a course to find a brand new island everywhere we roam." She's going to have to find a brand new way. She can do it. We're wayfinders.
  • "I got you." Because sometimes she stumbles and falls, and that's okay. We're here. Sometimes all she needs is a snuggle. Sometimes she needs a bandage or an energy bar or an emergency frozen treat. Sometimes she needs an extra pair of hands or someone to brainstorm with. We can figure things out together.
  • "You're wonderful." Because it's good for her to know I'm glad she exists, in a way that focuses on her wonderfulness rather than my act of loving her. Along these lines, I also frequently say, "You're awesome!"
  • "It's your experiment!" Because trying things out will help her learn, and this reminds me to back off and let her decide.

Over dinner, I mentioned this list of things I often say to A+. She wanted me to add these ones:

  • "I appreciate you, child."
  • "I love you."
  • "I'm going to pounce on you." Which is usually interrupted by her pouncing on me. This amuses her greatly. I like this playful way to offer a hug.

It is easiest to say these things when we're both well-rested and in good moods, so part of my job is to manage myself so that I can be in that state as often as possible.

A+'s beginning to echo these words back to us. She tells me what she'd like to use her allowance to experiment with. Yesterday at dinner, she told me, "You're awesome!" in the same way that I often tell her. Sometimes, as I send her off on her next task, she sings, "We know the way."

One night, as I was tucking A+ in, she asked for snuggles. I burrowed under the blankets and said, "I got you." She said, "You always do."

Footnotes

1

A1.3 Positive Motivation and Perseverance in Health and Physical Education (2019)

2

Hard to pin down a specific attribution. Goodreads has a page attributing this quote to Peggy O'Mara, but I can't find a citation. There are also plenty of variants on the Web, like this "The way we speak to our children becomes their inner voice" article from Kurtz Psychology. Anyway, handwaving this as a pithy concept I didn't come up with.

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