Friday Photo: Nutria Battle

Our hero!  He did battle with a nasty, huge nutria and won!  The beast is dead.  However, he ended up with an infection, some surgery, and this lovely accessory. 

Technology Void

I could claim some higher-ground here in my parenting.  I could call it intentional.  But if I'm really honest, money is more of the motivator than a deep belief against gaming systems.  However, I will admit that I'm glad that money is a factor and has prevented us from purchasing any of these devices for our boys.

Yesterday when B got off the bus he was mad, at me.  "Wow, what's with the face?  What did I do?"

"I want a DS."  Part of me wants one for them too, really...when I see how it makes them feel a bit inferior to their friends.  They've taken full assessment of their situation, done the research while they are at friends' houses.  They know we have a technology void.  This weekend I even caught B in a little-white-lie with his cousin, "Yeah, I have an ipod."  His cousin responded, "Well we have three, but we have to share them as a family."  Actually, B does not have an ipod.  His father has one that he lets the boys have full access to.  B keeps the speaker and ipod right by his bed, so I guess it feels like it is his, but it is not.

Often when I go pick the boys up from playing at friends' houses the mom will say, "Wow, they like to play video games, don't they."  I don't know how many times I've gone to pick C up from a playdate, and I have to search the home to find him hidden in the corner with a handheld system in his hands.  I feel like that health mom who doesn't allow their kids to have refined sugars and turns their children in to ravenous beasts around candy.  (One of these children was in my 6th grade class and stole the Ding Dong out of my lunch for months.  Oh and my husband did not have a TV growing up, which only meant he figured out what time shows were on and made sure he was at a friends house when the shows aired...much to the annoyance of his friend who was bored of those shows.)

Now before you think I'm a horrible mother, the boys do play video games.  They can access many of the same games that their friends play on our computer.  They love it.  It is a passion for them.  I've had other moms tell me that maybe I should just get my boys a Wii, "Then maybe they'll get it out of their systems."  Um, I doubt that.  I remember when my oldest was two and I was basically clueless in my mom role and actually told a friend, "Yeah, we really have been pro-active in our screen time and B just isn't in to it."  Um, B was two, that was it.  Developmentally he was just not at that zone stage...now he is.

Sometimes I take our computer and hide it, so the boys will not ask to use it.

The other night I did this and it forced them to play and create.  And I didn't have to deal with the begging.   I  went upstairs and watched B play with his Legos.  He was having fun creating worlds and vehicles for those worlds.  There were sound effects and general ingenuity.  I thought to myself, "Well, maybe when they get out into life they will be the innovators and creative-thinkers of their generation.  Maybe when they are the next Steve Jobs they will say in a speech, 'I thank my mom for my brain.  She denied us access to technology growing up.  Even though I didn't like it at the time, I appreciate it now.  Unlike our peers, our brains were left to grow and develop, forced to create and solve our own bouts of boredom'."

Oh, who am I kidding, I know it is only a matter of time before we finally save up, give in, and buy a gaming system.

Update: Anticipate

Over the New Year I decided to embrace a word for the year instead of making goals or resolutions.  I felt like God handed me, lovingly, the word anticipate.  I felt like I was moving away from old commitments and into new ones, just wasn't sure what the new ones were yet.  I love being aware of the movements of God in my life and living in trust as my life takes new turns.  I learned long ago not to force change, but to anticipate, hope, plan, and trust change.

So, guess what!?  I am embracing a new teaching challenge: preschool.  Never would I have predicted this career choice.  I started out in secondary education, loved my stint at the college level, but now I'm actually very excited and eager to begin this new venue for my passion of teaching.

I'm finding myself taking on some new volunteer work also.  I'm trying to get some planning and movement in the way of long-range plans for my sons' school playground.

But don't worry, I'm passing off many of my old commitments: church women's retreat, mom's Circus Teabreak's group, standing back a bit more from Sunday school leadership (although still taking my turn at teaching), found a new mom to take on the school newsletter, dropping Site Council for next year...probably not coaching my son's soccer team (Daddy says he wants too.).  So, don't worry, I actually think I'm striking a more healthy balance and focusing on fewer things and doing those few things well:  teacher, mother, wife, daughter, and friend. 

But, this transition period has been busy, and that is why there has been less writing lately on my blog.  Just thought my faithful readers would like to know.

Perfect Jeans

I have never been that lucky girl; never had that perfect pair of jeans…until now.  I love this denim like no other.  My passion is unequaled.  And this chance encounter was all quite by accident.  It was a harried decision, a choice I almost didn’t make, a choice thrown on at the end of a time-sensitive –shopping-endeavor.  My childhood friend and I had indulged our stay-at-home-mom fantasies and hired a babysitter while we allowed ourselves to shop, in a mall!  Still our time was limited and was encroached upon by the knowledge that there was a 5 to 1 ratio at her house.  So even though we appeared to be free women, we still shopped like two rushed, frenzied mothers: there was a time constraint.  Luckily I did have my best friend with me who obviously knows a good pair of jeans and recognized they were a hit on my legs, thighs and buns.  “Well, should I get them?  What do you think?”

“Definitely.”  I was unsure because the hems dragged a bit.  She promised that she could alter them if I needed it.  This scene is almost three years old, but is clear in my mind…one of those fateful, frozen events.  By this one simple purchase I was changing the course of history, at least as far as my wardrobe goes.

For three years I would wake and gaze into my closet.  I had choices.  There were other jeans.  But whenever, out of obligation, I chose another pair I always regretted it.  My heart was another’s.  My true love lay in my drawers waiting for me to realize my mistake and return to him and his threads only.

Days with Mr. Perfect were just better.  My confidence oozed:  the right color, with the right fade; the right softness that didn’t sag by the end of the day; so dependable.  I could dress these jeans up or down.  They were good enough for casual grocery shopping, picking up the kids, or going on dates with my husband.  They were morphing into my body, becoming a second skin.  We had lit the wedding unity candle and had become one.

That is why my heart broke recently when I discovered a thin stream of light protruding through the back, left pocket.  Maybe it was my imagination.  Maybe if I stood straight, did not squat, no one else would notice.  I tested this out on my husband.  “Well, maybe if I wear blue underwear?”

“Maybe it is time to get a new pair of jeans.”

Sorrow.  I knew that fates would only give goodness to me once.  You only have one first love.  I tried to find the exact same brand, but it had been three years and the fashions had morphed slightly.  (I guess I’m like that woman who still insists on a beehive at the beauty salon.)  I compromised.  I found something I could live with, not necessarily live without.

I brought this new pair of jeans home and placed them in the drawer next to my worn-out-lover.  I was sad.  I knew that when I woke up and put them on, it would not be the same…and it was not.  I still have my perfect-pair-of-jeans.  I will not throw him out yet.  And I still wear Mr. Right on days when I know I am safe from public scrutiny.  I now understand the powerful connection between a woman and her jeans.  Some things in life you can only learn through experience.  Jeans are one of those things.

Writing Realization

Lately, I've been feeling down in regards to my writing...feeling like I have nothing to say, nothing to write about, no inspiration etc. My word for this year has been anticipation. I've been doing a lot of evaluating of my life and how I'm spending my time: what is life giving and what is not. I fee like I'm cleaning out my inbox, and it feels good. I've been slowly deleting items that I have to do in my life, getting rid of commitments that are cluttering my time. I'm doing a pretty good job of it too.

But, I've been wondering about my writing. Should I not do my blog? Should I phase out of my Graphic writing? How does writing fit my life now that my kids are bigger and my life is busier. Nap time used to be my sacred time, now when do I create and think? I still want to write. I still want to publish. This is my creative outlet, but how does it work under these new life changes of motherhood.

I know it is little, but I've been doing the school newsletter for the last two years and I finally realized that this is sucking away from my personal writing time. On Mondays I spend the whole day writing the newsletter, gathering articles, and working on the layout. I do enjoy it. I think I've done good in the school through it. But am I willing to keep doing it and sacrifice my own personal writing? Last night I realized: no, nope. I think this will be another thing I delete from my inbox. I have done it well and it is now time to hand it off.

I'm practicing the art of saying no and cleaning my life of business...it feels very anticipatory!

Easter Conversation, Not Typical: God -Sighting 7,890

Our Easter conversation was not your typical family discussion. We discussed sperm. I was the instigator, I'm sure. I shared some random fact from some random article I read about sperm donors and how sperm is a major export for the US. There were statistics on how one guy had donated so much sperm he'd paid his way through college and graduate school and how donors get paid more for higher degrees etc. Then I mentioned how one family sued a sperm bank because their child ended up having cystic fibrosis. The horror on my sisters face grew. Why? She couldn't fathom. Because they wanted perfect children. Of course, not everyone who chooses this route does, but that was the population this article was highlighting. Then we launched into adoption and how wrong it is that white children are more expensive to adopt than children who are obviously not white. With each story my sister's passion grew.

What is the point of children? Yes, we all want "perfect" children. But, I think the point of parenting is learning to release control and realizing that there are things you do as a parent that help your children grow and bloom, but then there is free will, the roll of science, and numerous other factors that are out of our control that we have to learn to surrender and accept.

My sister's horror is one rooted in a deep love for a little boy who, frankly, most of us would initially say we would never want. But there is such beauty in my sister and in her family because this is exactly the child that they do want and that they do embrace and who they wouldn't change. My sister Laura has modeled grief, anger, acceptance, and joy.

Is society really better if we "weed" out all the imperfect? (I can think of another society who tried this...not a good thing. Besides, then we are allowing others to define perfection or "right.")

When I was pregnant with my three little boys, the fear that one of them might have autism was great. My sister's son had been born this way. We both tend to see this as a genetic issue, so I was scared. When each of them met a major milestone, like making eye contact, relating to others, etc. I was so relieved. Sure, I didn't really want a child with autism. I really didn't want a child with any genetic disorder. This is a hard subject and one that we should wrestle with continually.

My sister has not been damaged from have an autistic child. And just so you know, he is very severe, on the spectrum. The biggest benefit of Tyler? He has given to his family...there are now two sisters who embrace and live fully into the fact that bad things do happen and still God is good. That one doesn't have to be perfect to love and to feel love back. That joy comes from the unexpected. That the imperfect childhood is actually the best gift a parent can be forced to hand their children. The richness that Tyler's sisters have received from having a brother with a disability is obvious to me. The maturity and empathy that they both possess outpaces their peers. They embody contentment well. To me contentment, not complacency, is a spiritual discipline, a fruit of God's spirit and one of my biggest God-sightings to date.

Gas Wars

The gas wars have come to our home. It is subtle, passive, but still present. At first I thought maybe we were alone in this. When I would read articles or columns from the “experts” they would claim that rising gas prices were not effecting Americans and their spending. This was exacerbating to read, seriously? We are the only family whose budget is affected by the steep rise in filling up our tank?
Each month we preplan how we are going to spend our income. We allot various amounts into categories: food, utilities, gas, entertainment, house, car, spending money etc. And over the past few months the amounts that we have to spend in most flexible categories are getting less and less with one growing, ballooning classification: gas!

Just a minor three months ago, my husband happily drove his vehicle everywhere he could. He takes the boys to a soccer clinic on Tuesdays and Daddy’s Exterra is much cooler than mommy’s mini-van, go figure. (This is where you are supposed to chastise us for our vehicle choices and convince me that a family of five should squeeze into a Nissan Leaf. But if you faithfully read Joel Stein you’ll know that most people only make green choices when it benefits them financially, more fuel efficient cars cost much more initially than a used car, or is something they can easily afford.) The boys can feel the testosterone emitted from this machine even at their tender ages. It is the preferred vehicle of choice. And I didn’t mind. I told myself, “Hey, that means I won’t have to fill my van up quite as soon.” My husband is a little slower at noticing rising fuel prices. But a strange thing happened this last month: the Exterra stayed put on Tuesday nights. My husband claimed the car seats were too arduous to move from my van to his SUV. (Both vehicles get the same gas mileage.)

I knew the truth: pain at the pump.

I’ve tried to compensate. I actually schedule days to go nowhere, just stay local. We live an average of 30 minutes away from most market centers. There are a few items that we can get locally. Over the last few years I’ve slowly transferred by loyalties closer to home: dentist, hair dresser, home improvement purchases, mechanic, and basic grocery. But, not all things can be purchased close to home. Nor are all things cheaper close to home. And so I am forced to venture out a few times a week. I try and combine trips. We do a lot of errands after church. I’ve started to invite friends over to our house, instead of going their way. I count it a victory when no one opens the van door or starts the engine. (Did you know that the Greatest Generation has been the most environmentally conservative, even more than today’s Millennials that supposedly know better? Cause: forced cheap frugality.)

A few times when I’ve had to run to the store to get milk or bread, I grab Hans’ keys instead of my own because I know what’s going on here: a gas war. A cold war. Tension. Anxiety. It’s definitely slowly down our personal economy and making us chose between gas and other things we’d much rather spend our money on. I know that this is a 1st world problem. I have perspective. I am blessed and grateful, but I’m also a little irritated when I hear that the rising gas prices aren’t affecting Americans as much this time around because it feels pretty much the same as it did in 2007. How about you?