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Monday, August 17, 2009
thoughts on my grandmother
when I was four years old, i learned to read and write, thanks in no small part to my grandmother. she encouraged what would become a lifelong love of books and reading by spending hours patiently listening to me read, accompanying me to the library, and buying me books. one of my greatest memories was reading the entire little house on the prairie series with her during the summer that I was nine. we read, drew pictures of laura’s homestead, crocheted, and spent hours talking about life on the prairie and her own hard life on a farm in the texas panhandle. she was so proud of my accomplishment that she presented me with the set of books at the end of the summer -- those very same books sit on the shelves in my living room today, waiting to be read by my own children in a few years. like the hundreds of children who had the great fortune of being taught by my grandmother during her long career as an english teacher, i knew what it was to learn from someone who was always patient, never critical, and always excited about learning. but unlike those children who only had her in their lives for one year, i had that loving, enthusiastic support in my life for forty four years.
we spend so, so much on stuff...new work clothes for kevin, a special party dress for eleanor, sunglasses for forgetful me--my third pair since last summer--and even those occasional coffee drinks that i can't seem to do without. but the real bulk comes from all of the groceries and toilettries purchased each week. at times, it feels as if there's a conveyor belt running from the car to the apartment to the dumpster...new stuff in, old stuff out, new stuff in, old stuff out.
so i feel good when i make an effort to slow down the waste...make do with what we have and squeeze the very last drop out of it before it continues on in the waste stream. a slice of pizza from dinner becomes breakfast for one, the pasta salad/cheese grits/pita from lunch is dinner for the little person who doesn't care for what we're having, and a chicken carcass is thrown into my stock pot with some wilting celery, a couple of old carrots, and half an onion all scrounged out of the bottom of the fridge to form the basis of our next dinner (stock that will kick the ass of anything storebought and which won't cost me anything except a little time and freezer space). over the winter and cooler than usual spring, we occasionally enjoyed a classic southern dinner that kevin and i grew up on...a big pot of pinto beans and cornbread. however, instead of the smoked sausage that i usually purchase--turning this "poor man's meal" into something a lot pricier and adding one more ingredient--i threw in a ham bone left from a small ham that i'd bought on sale the day after easter. the more tender ham was used earlier, but i'd had the sense to freeze the bone and what was attached to it for a future use. the beans were delicious and maple-y, and i was pleasantly surprised to discover that the slow-cooking required for the beans tenderized the tough bits of ham still clinging to that bone. we ate everything except two cups of beans which i pureed into a yummy dip for the kids to snack on. we waste very little food these days thanks to a lot of advanced meal planning, careful shopping, and a doggedness to use it all. but i find it hard to stay on the wagon, particularly when i'm tired after work and our supplies our running low, so i'll get a boost of inspiration from jonathan bloom's smart, nonjudgemental, truly helpful blog wasted food, which i stumbled on to about a year ago.
but it's not just food. i am a champion list-maker, so i try to know who is wearing what at what time and who needs what at what time so if there's a sale or (even better) a give-away, i'm ready. "i'll take that!' while it can be hard to fulfill all of the clothing needs of the adults in our home this way, it's surprisingly easy with the kids. my children's clothes are passed on to the children of our friends, while my dear sister and a couple of other friends pass their children's clothing on to our family. underwear, shoes, and the occasional special purchase (note party dress above) are usually purchased new, but little else. even craft supplies--something that i despise buying since they eventually end up in the recycling bin or trash can--have come under the "every last drop" rule. a neighbor's stack of old newspapers and magazines is raided for both content and crafting potential. most recently, my linen closet (which at one time stored a lot of old, excess linens that have since been given to someone else who can put them to use) has been repurposed as a supply closet: old tees and towels cut into cleaning rags and dish towels, extra rolls of marcal toiletpaper, rechargable batteries, hardware, dried seeds for our apartment kitchen garden, baking soda for non-toxic cleaning, concentrated detergent, shampoo, soap, mouthwash, and toothpaste all purchased on sale, as well as freebies from dentist visits and conference hotels. nothing in bulk, nothing from one of those big box places, and only those things that we use regularly.
speaking of shopping, years ago i established sunday morning as market day when i realized that i could shop quietly while my neighbors slept in or attended church. however, because i usually made trips to both the food co-op and the chain grocery store, with the occasional visit to target, i felt that i was doing more driving than i needed. the few times that i'd tried to carry home groceries--even just a fraction of what we'd use in one week--was tough. i'd thought about buying one of those folding shopping carts, but it seemed like more stuff to clutter our home. so, i repurposed the kids' umbrella stroller, which doesn't get a lot of use these days. it fits 2-3 very full trader joe's reusable shopping bags very easily. ta-da.
like the return of our robins, i'm thrown into a panic over finances every spring. it's the end of our family fiscal year, we've either paid our taxes or received our teeny refund, and i've updated our annual budget. however, with the economy being what it is this year and the sense that things are just so unpredictable, i've been even more anxious that by choosing to stay home with my kids, i'm hurting the family financially. so the internal dialogue raging inside of me over the last month has sounded something like this...can we afford for me to stay home another year? is a fulltime-sized paycheck worth seeing less of the kids and kevin, spending no time at their schools, no longer having those 5pm family dinners, purchasing a second car and everything that goes along with that, and paying someone else to pick up and watch my children until i get home? what about all of the money that's not going into savings?
honestly, i love being with my family, and i would be thrilled to never hold another fulltime job. i like cooking and volunteering and walking the kids to school every day and playing with them and their little friends and organizing our lives and in general just enjoying life. and even the cleaning, which i stink at. while i understand the concerns of women who find it isolating, boring, and mind-numbing, i don't. truthfully, it continues to be the most fullfilling, stimulating, pleasant job i've ever held--one i'm grateful to do--so the idea of returning to fulltime work outside of my home, even doing something that i really enjoyed before i had children, depresses the hell out of me.
but something interesting happened to me this spring. i realized that i am, in fact, working full-time outside of the home. for nearly four years, i've been working very part-time (for pay) in hopes of maintaining my skills for that theoretical day that i "go back." however, that one saturday a week has grown to two full days a week and the occasional third day, as well as the addition of some very visible responsibilities, which, i believe, has made me somewhat necessary at the college, rather than just another faceless adjunct. my occasional book reviewing (again, initially just to keep my hand in things until that far off day) has lead to a small home-based business, complete with my own amazon storefront, generating a small, but steady income that pays for small things like summer camp for both kids, museum memberships, and our afterschool coffee and steamer habit. lastly, the small parents' group that we co-founded has grown from those initial 20 families way back in 2007 to 310 families and counting. i oversee membership, the web site, scheduling, and related issues, including, surprisingly, conflict resolution...all marketable skills. although i receive no paycheck for this last "job," i've made useful, potentially important contacts in the city and i've been thinking about how i can use this avenue as another source of income, but that's still in the thinking-about stage.
interestingly, i know several self-described stay-at-home parents who are doing the same thing, and it seems to be working for them as well. and so i will cross my fingers and hold my breath and do whatever else is necessary to hold on to this fragile, lovely, perfect life we have at the moment.
for the last several weeks, i've experienced an odd calm. odd, because i'm rarely calm, even under the best of circumstances. when i'm not fretting about my children and their moods, schools, relationships, and development or my husband and his moods and work, i'm thinking about my sisters and their families, my friends and their families, my job and coworkers, my neighbors, my various community activities, and when i don't have enough to worry about, people i've never met. i don't hear from my youngest sister for more than three days...something's wrong. a friend is tardy responding to an email...what's happened? kevin's not sleeping well...he's not telling me something. i read a news story about an injured child or hear about my sister's friend's neighbor being downsized and i dwell on it for days, worrying for them, imagining myself in their position, wondering how they might better their current situation.
lately, though, i just seem to be going through the motions of worrying. "hmmm, i emailed so-and-so with a specific question and she's blown me off. gee, something must be up." but i don't experience that same anxiety. just not there. maybe, just maybe, i don't really give a shit. (i'm even a tiny bit relieved.) or perhaps i've learned that trick that kevin seems to have mastered of worrying about only those things that really matter.
i'm not sure if it's the changing weather or hormones or some real, much healthier way of coping, but i don't care. i'm just trying very hard to keep the feeling as long as i can. worrying, of course, that it will slip away.
there's a wonderful scene in felicity learns a lesson where felicity makes the momentous decision to not have any tea. it's tricky because the merrimans are openly supporting the patriots, but felicity doesn't want to offend her dear friend elizabeth, who is a tory. and while we can politely decline a drink, apparently it was considered the height of bad manners to do so some 200+ years ago. with the help of miss manderly, felicity learns the perfect phrase for such situations, "i will take no tea today, thank you" accompanied by carefully balancing one's spoon across the top of one's teacup. the message "i just can't do this, but it's not personal" and everyone understood. tea wasn't tea. it was the foundation of polite society, the center of all socializing for young ladies and gentlemen. and so it is today with the playdate.
as i frequently, loudly, tell anyone who will listen, my kids struggle in the afternoon. pete hibernates after lunch--and "hibernate" really is the only way to describe his 2-3 hour daily naps--and eleanor still finds kindergarten physically and emotionally exhausting. this creates a problem for us in two ways. first, most playdates occur in the afternoon on a weekday, which means that they miss out on these wonderful opportunities to interact in a less chaotic setting with peers. second, i work on the weekend, so the only time that i get to chat with my friends is during weekday playdates while our kids are occupied. it is with great hesistation that i ever schedule weekday, afternoon playdates.
however, sometimes i can't stand it any longer and say "what the hell, let's try it" and schedule one. like yesterday, when we visited friends whom my children know and really like. an easy-going child who plays equally well with both of mine. lots of things to do inside and out. snacks. but almost immediately, i could see that pete really did need that nap. and within 30 minutes or so, eleanor slipped into her new personna, surly, sassy-mouthed teen. they were demanding, difficult, mean to eachother, and rude to everyone. when i got them both back in the car, they immediately collapsed into tears and they were both alseep before 7:30. eleanor will be writing an apology to our hosts before emily can leave timeout, but i don't think we'll be trying this again for a while.
