Faking Hide and Seek

My toddlers play Hide and Seek like they are the adults. They hide only somewhat obscured, behind throw pillows or under the thin knee-length bedroom curtains, where they are clearly visible and sure to be found. At first, I thought this reflected a tenuous relationship with object permanence (are they only half-hiding because they are afraid they might otherwise totally disappear?) but then I watched them Seek. I mean, I watched them fake Seek. After standing with their eyes squeezed shut, covered by their hands, AND facing the wall (we take “no peeking” very seriously), after counting slowly through a series of random out-of-order numbers, they launch an overstated and loudly narrated search of only the most unlikely places.

“Is She In My Pocket?” (pause for searching)
“Noooo. Not In My Pocket! Is She On Top Of The Dresser?” (pause for searching)
“Noooo. Not On Top Of The Dresser!”

Each failed search is a shocking revelation! Then, with the same feigned commitment to the task, they voice fake frustration: “Oh Where Could She Be? I Just Can’t Find Her!” or get all existential and muse on the implications of a failed search: “What if I can’t find her? I guess she’ll just stay missing forever! What will I do with no Mommy? Oh well, I guess I’ll just have to keep looking just in case….” Throughout the game, round after round, they keep looking, carefully avoiding the obvious Hider (who is often reusing the same obvious hiding place), till every impossible place has been thoroughly searched. Sometimes this goes on so long that the Hider can’t help herself. She jumps out of hiding (“Here I am!”) and everyone authentically giggles at the (fake) surprise.

They play Hide and Seek like all adults tend to play, pretending we are capable of loosing entire human beings in our own living room and fretting over this possibility in exaggerated tones. But, unlike adults, they aren’t humoring someone else. They want to play again and again because fake Hide and Seek requires a certain dramatic flair that makes pretending to play even more fun than actually playing.

I can relate. I have been playing a game of faux Hide and Seek with my dissertation advisor for years. I hide out, pretending she can’t see how little progress I’m making toward completion. She pretends to look for progress with cheerful and vague emails that ask how I’m doing or if I’d like to “meet to talk”. Sometimes she narrates blatantly to reinforce the ruse (“You’ll surely have a chapter by the end of January!” or “You write fast. You’ll make fast progress.”). Occasionally the tension of fake hiding becomes too much and I jump out (“I’m behind schedule!”) and she authentically reassures me despite her (fake) surprise. “It gets easier the more you write” she says “Everyone goes through this.”

I picture dozens of graduate students trying to stay perfectly still, taking only shallow breaths, their faces buried in the literature they’ve already read or the rewrites of a section they’ve already rewritten or the TV or their pillows. They pretend noone knows that they are hiding there but the tension of hiding (yes, even fake hiding) builds up until they can’t stand it anymore. And all around them people keep pretending to seek with kind questions about how the work is coming along or when they’ll be done with their “little paper”. So many endless rounds of this!

Yet we keep playing because let’s face it: pretending to write a dissertation requires a certain dramatic flair and sometimes that is just a whole lot more fun than actually writing.

drinking the expired hot chocolate - a low point

I sit so hunched over that my chin rests on my coffee cup. To be fair, it is a tall coffee cup, big and fat, Handpainted In China, and tall enough to hide an incredible amount of hot chocolate. Years ago, my grandmother gave me this cup and a matching cake plate, explaining that "a woman needs these for when she wants a little something sweet just for herself." I'd never had any trouble eating sweets off of everyday dishware but, still, I was grateful for the general idea: Treat yourself special, she was saying.

I'm not sure preparing expired hot chocoloate mix in boiling water as a strategy for avoiding major life responsibilities was what she had in mind. Sigh. I sink deeper into the rim of the cup, letting the chipped porcelin leave strange dimples in my chin. Today I am supposed to be Getting Things Done. Instead I pace my apartment, break open a bag of potatoe chips, search my kitchen cabinets for dinner ideas that don't require ingrediants, and return to my Coffee Cup Perch for rest. This is not what I thought I'd be like at 30. Drinking the expired hot chocolate with potatoe chips? Seriously?

I have two toddlers to raise and a dissertation to write and job applications to submit. I have dishes and laundry and bedrooms to clean. I have Halloween photos to upload and emails to read. I have a husband to love and friends to call back. and I need an oil change. This is no time for an existential crisis! I sit up straight in my chair, set aside the hot chocolate, and decide my grandmother was right. Sometimes a woman does need to treat herself special.

I think she meant we are all supposed to upgrade our procrastination techniques to include melodramatic blogging. At least that way we have something to show for ourselves.