Crimes Against Chard

A crime was committed at our house this week. 

Theft and vandalism were committed in our very own garden.

It certainly wasn't me that ate the chard. The stems are my favorite part. I wouldn't leave them behind like this.

There was some evidence left behind, though.

Bambi and his gang are apparently active in our neighborhood. 

Retaliation is illegal in MA. Well, the kind of retaliation that leaves you with venison sausage, at least. 

The dogs came home from a walk to find him at work again and showed him who really owns the garden. What a cheeky bloke, browsing mid-day... There was evidence he was starting to target the tomatoes, as well. 

This means war, Bambi. 

War.

Achievement, Ambition, Empowerment, and Contentment

Whew, that title is full of some big ideas.

I've had a few conversations lately that have stirred my mental pot, especially around those big ideas.

At work the other day, I overheard a lunch conversation that started with this: "if you could snap your fingers and have a new career that didn't require you to start all over with school, what would you do?" Most of the women are older than me. And most couldn't imagine having a different career. Me? If I could snap my fingers to a different career? I'd run an international aid organization of some sort. I know, kinda random. I'd love to have the organization and management skills to change lives through charitable giving. Don't get me wrong. I love my career. It allows me the other things I value in life: a marriage and family. But I occasionally wonder about a life full of international travel and saving people from starvation and disease.

I was lucky to have a visit recently from a friend who moved away a while back. I'll call her Janey, to protect her identity.

We stayed up late drinking wine, and she told me about the possibility of a career turn that would involve 3 intensive years in a fast-track nurse practitioner program. It would be an amazing career move. And a physical move. It would also create insane demands on her and her family. Did I mention she has 2 young children? It sounded terrifyingly overwhelming to me.

She discussed how tedious her current job was, and the general boredom she felt in her career. The concept of her current job sounds amazing. But yes, the details of her job were a bit mundane and repetitive. Yet it's a good job, and allows her to work from home. This is handy when you have 2 young kids.

We were both the recipients of world-class educations and the encouragement to be whatever we wanted to be. We were taught that we shouldn't settle for boring jobs. We should never accept the status quo. We should feel empowered enough to reach for whatever we wanted, no matter how difficult.

But now we have kids. And mortgages. And a tenuous sanity to preserve.

So I had to ask myself:  What's the difference between settling down and just settling for something less?

And then:  What model of achievement should I be presenting for my daughters? And what should I be teaching them about ambition, and empowerment?

I'm starting to think that our focus on women's empowerment is becoming a double-edged sword.

(WARNING: If you get squeamish about medical details, are looking to avoid description of birthing, or just generally want to avoid incidents of TMI, skip down to the next part with bold font!)

I was reading a post on my local mommy group website where a mom was inquiring about hypnobirthing as a way to avoid tearing during birth. I took the hypnobirthing class. I used the philosophy to have 2 unmedicated births. I tend to think of it as a good strategy to get through birth without unnecessary medical interventions. It never occurred to me that one could PREVENT themselves from tearing during childbirth. Doesn't that kind of depend on the size of your baby and your general skin elasticity? But there are those out there that encourage women to empower themselves to have exactly the childbirth experience they want. So if you don't want to tear, you can work hard enough to find a way not to tear. Wow. That's a lot of pressure... What if you DO find a childbirth technique that promises to help you avoid tearing. But you tear a little anyway. Does that mean you're a failure? I'm content to see tearing as a possible (and likely, given my prior experiences) side-effect of the birthing process. You get a few stitches, you use witch hazel pads and a peri-care bottle for a week, and you move on. Does this mean I'm too content with the status quo? Should I feel more empowered to demand the birth I want when Little Miss makes her grand entrance in a few months? But I don't want to feel like a failure when the midwife pulls out the needle and thread...

(OK, you squeamish readers can start reading again here.)

Do the current messages in our society really help us? "You can have it all! Get your career established first. Travel the world. Then when you're financially secure in your early 40's, have kids then." And "Don't settle. You CAN have a career! And a marriage! And kids! And fun leisure time!" And so women wait so they can have it all! And then they have to struggle with infertility, because a 30 year old body bears children more easily than a 40 year old body. The realities of biology don't change because we've suddenly become more empowered. Skin stretches, and then sometimes tears. We start our lives with lots of eggs. Most of the good ones are gone by our 40's. The limitations of a 24 hour day aren't swayed by successful women encouraging us all to do more, be more, achieve more. There are only 24 hours. We really can't clone ourselves to simultaneously attend a work meeting and a preschool dance performance. 
Or maybe I'm just not empowering myself adequately...

I brought up the topic to a wonderful group of moms from my church. They're smart, they're successful, they're kind, and they're wise. They're my grounding force in the face of the questionable advice provided by society and my local online mommy group. Once a month, we share food, wine, support, conversation, and prayer. Because we know our limitations. We need each other. And we know that there are just aspects of life we need to turn over to a higher power.  But we discussed my questions. 

Not one of them thought we could "have it all". According to them, we have natural seasons in life that demand and allow our energy to be directed to different areas. We have marriage partners with whom we give-and-take to make our family work well together. Our careers are just part of the picture. We have priorities that truly are more important. Like our marriages. And our children. When you sit with a group of women that include some who have buried children, it somehow becomes perfectly reasonable to shape your life and aspirations around those of your own children. It all falls into perspective. 

Of course, perhaps our expectations would be different if we could all afford to hire out parts of our lives - childcare, shopping, cooking, cleaning... Have you ever noticed that women to talk about "having it all" seem to have their own staff? Or at least have mothers living nearby who are willing to do those things for free?

We discussed the concept of "vocation". Martin Luther (the Reformation guy, not the civil rights guy) discussed vocation as a gift from God. Both bankers and blacksmiths have the ability to serve God in their jobs. They have the task of being the best banker/blacksmith they can be, in order to help others and fully utilize the gifts that God has given them. There is no such thing as a lowly or exalted job. There is just OUR job, and we need to do it well to give glory to God. You can be a wonderful 7-11 cashier. You can be a wonderful nurse. You can be a wonderful CEO. You can be a wonderful street sweeper. They all give glory to God! 

You can be a wonderful wife and mother. These are also vocations. Think it's not important? Imagine losing your spouse or child for a moment. Yeah, they're pretty important. Imagine not being around to teach your children what love is about and to prepare them to go out into the world. Imagine your children not having a mom. Yeah, the job is pretty important. 

So I'm thankful for the perspective my friends bring. I'm thankful for not needing to live up to the expectations of society. I already have some pretty big jobs on my plate. I'll stick with those and let others battle the angst of their "empowerment." I think I'll just pray for the power to do my own jobs well.

Hope you have a great week!

Spinach and Self-Righteousness

Spinach and self-righteousness. They don't really have much in common. 

Except that my day was full of them.

The day started with the self-righteousness. The Sundays in June are when our church does its yearly Vacation Bible School (VBS). We don't have enough stay at home moms and retired ladies to host a week of daily activities like we did in my church growing up. So we do it on Sunday mornings, in lieu of Sunday School. I'm helping in the craft room this year, following the instruction of a master crafter and helping young children produce her genius craft ideas. (This year, we're making a suit of armor. We did the belt last week and the breastplate today. It's pretty amazing to see what even the 3 year olds can do...)

We were in the middle of our largest class, when one of the little boys suddenly threw up all over the place. He hosed the floor, the table, and his brother. The room was full of mom helpers, so we were all over the situation. Except that we couldn't locate his parents. They dropped off the boys and left. (Sunday brunch perhaps?) And none of us actually knew his parents or how to call them. And the boys didn't know their phone numbers. 

"Busted." 

I know these parents to regularly drop off their kids and leave. They don't attend adult Bible study. They don't attend the church service. They take advantage of some free Bible-themed childcare and bolt. And now, they were caught in the act. With a miserably ill son who just wanted his parents to come and take him home. 

"Maybe this will teach them." 

I was feeling pretty smug about all of this. Meanwhile, their poor son was lying on the cool brick of the church courtyard, because it felt nicer than the benches. When the parents finally returned, we handed over one sick son, one healthy son, and a bag with a vomit-covered shirt. And shot daggers with our eyes. Ok, I did. I can't really accuse anyone else of doing so. But I shot enough daggers for all of us.

I was feeling pretty smug and outraged about the situation until late afternoon, when my attention was taken by spinach.

BestestHusband planted quite a bit of spinach for me, and it was ready to come in from the garden. Some of the plants were on the verge of bolting, and we have a warm sunny week coming up. So I brought in this lovely arrangement of spinach.

I was washing the dirt and bugs out in the sink when I realized how grimy I was, too. The smug self-righteousness ("Hmmph. I would never leave my sick kids at Sunday School and sneak off.") that I was actively entertaining throughout the day was like the bugs hiding in the spinach leaves. The bugs were small and few in-between, but until I expelled them from the bunch, the spinach was not fit for eating. And the self-righteous thoughts that filled my mind were polluting me, as well. 

One of my current favorite Facebook pages is Sanctimommy. It's a satire page devoted to laughing at the self-righteous parents out there who look down upon other parents who don't share their parenting philosophies. I derive a great deal of amusement from reading some of the ridiculous and judgemental statements made by other parents, most of them indirectly directed at people like me. (You know, a parent who doesn't slavishly follow the trendy new parenting habits like constant co-sleeping, nursing past toddlerhood, attachment parenting, serving only organic food on a paleo diet, etc.) I figure they deserve my laughing, because judgemental people suck, and if you think you can judge me, then I can laugh at you. 

Except I was the sanctimonious one today. I was the one doing the judging. I suck.

The kids today at VBS were learning about the concepts of Law and Gospel, as they pertain to our relationship with God and the world. "Law" is our mirror, our curb, our guide. It shows us a better God-designed way to live. It keeps us on a path designated by God. It shows us where we go wrong. And it tells us that we will never be perfect. "Gospel" is about grace. It is the reassurance that God loves us anyway, and that Christ washes away our bugs and dirt to make us clean. We will always be full of bugs and dirt, judgement and smugness. But Christ's death and resurrection provides us with the cleansing we need.

And so I'm thankful for smugness and bugs. It's a reminder that I'm not clean, and never will be on my own. And I'm thankful for the Gospel, and the knowledge that faith will be what I need. Because I'm sure tomorrow will bring its own version of bugs and smugs. And my grimy nature will get the best of me again.

Domesticated Daddy

I knew BestestHusband was a catch when I first met him. He's spent the last nearly 10 years proving me right.

I worked a short day today, trying to maximize my childcare-free income opportunities while I still have the energy and time to do so. I got a few interesting iMessages today from home, including "Can you pick up some brown sugar?" and "Never mind, I found some."

I was curious as to why we suddenly needed more brown sugar.

I came home to find my answer. 

BestestHusband made rhubarb cake with the fresh rhubarb from our garden. 

Yum.

Oh yeah, he's a catch.

Rhubarb cake, a la mode.

Nap Time Rebel

I have a certain 3 yr old who is tired. She went to bed late. She did not sleep in. She was whiny and obnoxious all morning. The child is undeniably tired.

And she's fighting her nap with all of her might.

So I'm sitting here in her room, next to her bed. So she can not get up. She can not talk to her sister, who's actually trying to sleep. She can not play with toys. She can not hang upside down off the side of her bed. She can only lie in her bed with her head on the pillow and let her body rest. That's the point of nap time anyway, right?

So I'll keep my vigil for a little while. But I need a nap too...

I'm a Closet Hippie

Ok, I have another confession to make. Not the one about stashing Swiss Cake Rolls in the basement or eating all of the Drumsticks. No, this one is different. Maybe even worse.

Secretly, I'm a hippie.

I don't think you'd know this from passing me on the street. I don't wear hemp. My hair is not in dreadlocks. I wear makeup. And khakis. But on the inside, I hide strong hippie tendencies.

I came to this conclusion today as I was hanging out laundry to dry on my new dry rack. The one BestestHusband got me after I talked endlessly about wanting to hang laundry outside. Our condo rules disallow "clotheslines". But they don't disallow umbrella-style clothes racks that fit securely into our patio table umbrella base and can dry multiple loads of laundry simultaneously. And then be hidden away in the basement again. I was deriving great joy from hanging out this laundry. Sure it was a tedious task. You can fit the girls' laundry for a whole week in one load of the washer. But it takes forever to hang it all up on the rack. Yet I was so happy...

I think the hippie tendencies come from a combination of factors:

1. I'm a cheapskate (at times)
2. I like to help the environment (if it's not too inconvenient or expensive)
3. I like finding less-toxic ways to manage my household (again, if not too expensive or inconvenient)
4. I have a lifetime of love and admiration for our pioneer foremothers (thanks to owning the entire collection of Little House on the Prairie books)

So as a result, I love the idea of making my own yogurt, and occasionally bread. (I think I've made bread once since I've been pregnant, but have been doing ok with the yogurt). 
I love air-drying clothes. 
I love hand-me-downs and buying things used from local families. 
I love making cleaning products out of vinegar and scented oils. 
I love using a small amount of hemp soap to create a full dispenser of foamy hand soap. 
I love smearing myself with my own home-blended mix of coconut oil and scents instead of using store-bought lotion.
I love making my own granola. 
I love that we're eating spinach we grew in our own garden. 
We have a lot of glass canning jars that I store stuff in. 
I just bought two new types of baby-wearing devices for our upcoming arrival.

I must be a closet hippie.

I'm coming to terms with this. 

Last night I used up our over-ripe cherries to make yogurt smoothies that were put in re-useable squeezie pouches and made into popsicles. I have plans to walk to the season opening of the local farmer's market in the morning with the girls. These things make me happy. And they're healthy, good things to do. And I have a LONG way to go before achieving true hippiedom. I mean, I have no plans to stop shaving my armpits any time soon. And we're buying a minivan (I know, GASP!), not a family-style tricycle that allows me to bike my kids around town. And commune life definitely doesn't jive well with our particular natures. (Sharing our property with one other condo is hard enough for us.) So never fear, I won't be changing my name to Moonbeam any time soon.

But making my own squeezie pouch snacks for the girls? Oh yeah, I'm all over that!

Monster Pops are the best. Freeze them in their bases, then turn them over to eat the popsicle out of its handled base. You can even set them down in their bases to take breaks without spilling. And they make substantial popsicles. Every closet hippie needs these.

I just ordered these YummiPouches. You can get decorative stickers to go on them. The girls are excited about that part. These contain yogurt smoothies and went into the freezer right after this picture. Homemade yogurt + real fruit + re-useable container = hippie's dream.

The ziplock closure is at the top, and the spout on the side. I saw some versions from other companies that had the spout on the top, but a ziplocked bottom. That made me a bit nervous. The girls LOVED these today at the playground. A semi-frozen smoothie was a perfect summer snack.

The Sorority of Moms Comes Through Again

So, I'm pregnant. This isn't news. And I'm hungry. I guess this isn't surprising, either. But I'm hungry for fatty processed junk food that I don't typically feed my family or myself when I'm not pregnant. This is less than ideal. 

I used to have a box of Little Debbie Swiss Cake Rolls hidden in the basement. Until I ate them all. I used to have a box of chocolate Pop Tarts hidden in the center console of the CR-V. Until I ate them all. I used to have a box of Drumstick ice cream cones in the freezer that the girls were really looking forward to eating. Until I ate them all. Seriously, out of a variety pack of 8 cones, the girls each got one, BestestHusband had one, and I ate the other 5. Not all at once, of course, but over about 5 days. They just satisfied a craving that nothing else could.

So it was with shame that I was standing in the ice cream aisle of the grocery store today, trying to find the same box of Drumsticks. I had just stocked up on Turkey Hill ice cream, which is on sale right now (hoorayyyy!!!). Blue Bell will always be my favorite, of course, but you can't get it in Boston. I'll just have to eat my fill the next time I'm in Texas. So a sale on Turkey Hill makes me stock up. Oh, and also in my cart was a giant bag of peanut M&Ms. Yeah, that cart was a winner. It was a glaring testament to my junk food excesses. 

But the Sorority of Moms came to my rescue. As I was searching for the right box of Drumsticks, a woman interrupted my pitiful search. "I just have to tell you, you're absolutely adorable." 

I know she's a mom. I didn't even have to ask. Because she gets it. And she absolutely made my day. I can buy all the ice cream I want. Because I'm pregnant and some stranger in the grocery store thinks I'm rockin' the belly. 

This is the Sorority of Moms at its best. When I'm more in control of my own body, I make my own yogurt, and my own granola, and try to serve food that doesn't come from a factory. But I don't feel in control of my body right now. I don't feel in control of much of anything these days. (Oh bladder, where art thou?) And sometimes I do feel a bit ashamed of my eating habits. And I feel tired and grumpy. And I feel stretched to my limit. And other moms know this. And sympathize. And offer unprompted words of encouragement. 

So sisters, keep the movement going forward. Offer compliments to strangers. Smile at the woman with the tantrumming toddler. Let's go out of our way to support each other. Because I can tell you that today, it made a huge difference.