Looking for Poetry in the Everyday Madness

yin and yang

2009-07-15T17:45:00.000-07:00

Last week we received a medical bill in the mail and I felt just like my grandpa buying a cinnamon roll in Corner Bakery when my jaw fell open and I shouted, "You have to be kidding me!" The previous week I had taken Elliott to a nearby hospital to have his blood drawn for a few metabolic and genetic tests. He is too little, however, to have all the blood taken that was need for the five tests, so the nurse drew 9 cc's into three little vials and sent us on our way. The lab cost for those three little tests was a whopping $2,500.

Here's the thing. We are self-employed. Although we have solid PPO insurance, we each have a sizable deductible because we can't afford a second mortgage for a premium. It's equivalent to a Hummer payment already. After Elliott's $2,500 deductible, we continue to pay 20%. In a business-as-usual situation, this isn't so bad, but this year, having just met all of Elliott's deductible and nearly half of Liam's (due to just one quick middle-of-the-night run to the ER), opening the medical bills verges on the comedic. Particularly for a family already squeezing blood from a turnip.

What bugs me is that if we didn't have insurance for Elliott, the state (from what I understand) would fully cover his medical expenses. And, if either Andrew or I took (which presupposes the finding of) a great corporate job, we would have great corporate insurance, be able to slap down our $20 co-pay and never look back. Instead, we are stuck in the middle: a self-insured, scraping-by family with a precious boy who needs tests and tubes and little plastic $2,000 shoe inserts. Yes, we are stuck.

I am not a socialist and I will be one of the first to extol the virtues of a capitalistic society, but healthcare that favors the rich, the poor and the lucky just doesn't sit well with me. I wish there were a good solution.

In the meantime, I laugh and try to look on the bright side. Lucky for me, I was born with a half-full glass and rarely have trouble finding it.

So, in the true spirit of this blog, I give you the yang: My list of things that are making me happy right now.

:: The library. Some days I am honestly awed by the fact that all this book, video, music and magazine goodness is free. (Yeah, yeah, taxes, whatever.) I can check out knitting books, novels, poetry collections, new release movies, all 50 some Magic Treehouse books (Liam's favorite), annoying kid CDs that I would never want to own, magazines that I cannot bear to buy. The options are endless and the experience is completely anxiety free. It almost makes me cry.

:: My sewing machine. When a day is really rough, I think of my sewing machine and all the things I can make with it - someday. And I feel better. Right now, I am in love with this patchwork and this flower and this shopping bag. I plan to make them all - soon.

:: Truckloads of work, and free WiFi. Every morning this week, and most of last, I have headed out to my office when it opens at 6. The independent coffeehouse in our downtown has free WiFi and they roast their own coffee beans. I call that an office. And lately I have really needed one as the work, right in step with the bills, has poured in. Keeping us grateful and sure that God must be keeping his eye on us.

:: Cherry-berry compote, on everything. Last year about this time, I started making a berry/sugar thing that was basically pie filling. I like pie, but it's a lot of work, and since it's really the filling that makes me sigh, this compote is more than delicious. Right now we are making it with sour cherries and both black and red raspberries. In the morning we warm it and serve it over waffles. At lunch we stir it into plain yogurt. After dinner, it finds its best friend, chocolate chip ice cream. Eaten with a spoon while standing in front of an open fridge is also quite delightful.

:: Watching our garden grow. Other than watching your children grow, nothing compares to the wonder of seeing what a tiny seed can do. I will soon post a photo (after all, that's what proud mamas do) because our garden, full of squash blossoms and tiny bean shoots and gorgeous, leafy lettuce is a little miracle. It's poetry. It's art. It's a symbol for what really matters. And soon it will feed us.

So, my friends, in the spirit of looking at the bright side and not looking at the bills, what is making you happy right now?

butterfly release

2009-07-11T05:57:00.001-07:00

For Liam's birthday his cousin Samantha gave him a butterfly kit - a net home and a postcard that lets you send away for some larvae that will cocoon and transform into painted lady butterflies. We had a great time watching them grow - and go.

Here are a couple things we learned about the painted lady (or Vanessa cardui L for you latin gurus or friends named Vanessa!):

:: Her lifespan is just 2 to 4 weeks and during that time she may travel 1,000 miles.
:: She tastes with her feet.
:: She breathes through her abdomen.
:: She has 10,000 eyes.
:: She can lay up to 500 eggs.

So if you see this butterfly kit and wonder if it would make a good gift for 5 year old - or a 40 year old - know that it does.

totally random theology

2009-07-09T10:43:00.000-07:00

Liam asks a lot of question, particularly about God. Half the time I have absolutely no idea how to answer. Some examples:

:: Why doesn't God have any kids other than Jesus?
:: Did Jesus wear diapers? Toot? Throw up?
:: Was God ever zero, you know, like a baby?
:: Why doesn't God ever talk to me? I ask him to and he never does.

I guess when two questioning people come together, it's a good bet they are going to bear a questioning child. I try my best not to shut him down or blow off his questions or laugh, but sometimes it's a challenge. Here was today's installment:

LIAM: Does Mary know me?

MOM: What?

LIAM: Does Mary know me?

MOM: Mary who?

LIAM: Mary, God's mom. Does she know me? You know, like in real life.

MOM: Umm. (long pause)

LIAM (annoyed): Well?

MOM (deciding what answer will be most satisfying): No. But God knows you.

LIAM: Oh. Does he like me?

littlest Bordoni surprises us all

2009-07-05T19:42:00.000-07:00

It kind of came as a surprise to us, but Independence day is definitely Elliott's holiday. During the parade he waved and waved, and - wonder of all wonders (for him) - everyone waved back. He screamed along with the fire engines and sat wide-eyed, repeating "wow" throughout the fireworks. At every event he was happy, bright and funny, especially when he was dancing at dad's gig on Friday night. We know he connects with music, but we really had no idea he'd be such a party boy. As for his brother, not so much.

eat your veggies

2009-07-02T20:55:00.001-07:00

A couple other bloggers I like have written about kale chips recently. I discovered them when I was part of a CSA years ago and now make them nearly every week of the summer. Since they got a big stamp of approval from my college friend who is here visiting with her husband this week, I figured you should know about them, too. Kale chips are light and crispy and make me imagine what it might be like to eat autumn leaves, but don't let that deter you. They are really good. So good, in fact, that I made a big batch of them today and in less than five minutes we had eaten them all, straight off the pan.

Kale Chips
Wash and de-stem a bunch of kale. (We prefer the curly leaf kind, called Russian Kale, because it crisps up the best.) Cut the leaves into tortilla-size pieces. Spread the kale out on a rimmed cookie sheet. Pour some olive oil in your hands and toss the kale around. Sprinkle with kosher salt. Bake at 375 for 15-20 minutes, tossing once or twice. Eat 'em up.

not what I was expecting

2009-06-27T06:34:00.000-07:00

While making dinner, I heard Liam calling to me from the basement. I was in the middle of sauteing and called to him that he'd have to wait. He continued to call and the pleas become more and more urgent. By the fifth or sixth call he was screaming. I panicked, thinking a bookcase had fallen on him or he was dodging a rabid bat (which we have had in this house before). So I quickly stopped what I was doing and ran downstairs.

At the bottom of the stairs, Liam was sitting in a pile of my old Barbie stuff. With tears in his eyes, he held up a naked Barbie and a little red bathing suit.

"Help me!" he cried. "I can't get this Barbie dressed."

belated and beloved

2009-06-23T19:03:00.000-07:00

It doesn't look like much, but don't be fooled. If you love lemon, this cake rocks. While Andrew was out of the country, I happily dreamt-ate my way through The Homemade Life: Stories and Recipes from My Kitchen Table by Molly Wizenberg. This amazing French-Style Yogurt Cake with Lemon was the cake that started the romance that led to her marriage. She posted the recipe on her blog and some cute, food-loving, compatible, francophile emailed her and the rest is history. I l-o-v-e stories like that. Probably because mine is similar. The most unlikely union and the most fated. Like this lemon cake, irresistible.

Anyway, I made it in celebration of Andrew's birthday (lemon is his favorite), which we missed because he was gone in Lithuania. We are all so glad he's back, cake notwithstanding. Elliott even seemed to change overnight. Today he walked everywhere, talked up a storm - including new words we could understand, like "downstairs" - and smiled ceaselessly. I think he really missed his dad.

He and Liam happily donned their Lithuanian viking hats. Not sure about the historical connection, but there must be one because Andrew felt awfully at home there. He describes Lithuania as all the best things about Italy and none of the bad (of which, after living there for a dozen years, he can cite many). Their group (six in all) stayed in a compound supposedly run by Russian mobsters - nice clean room with full breakfast for $10/night. Lights out and locked in by midnight or they were out of luck. Apparently this was the best show in town.

But something about the place - the people, the values, the countryside, and especially the kids - got under his skin. My husband is hooked and his vision is growing. I will not be surprised if we are all packing our bags for some far-off land someday, to spread love, good news, and, of course, music. Not such an unlikely union afterall. Lemon cake, orphans and adventure: By golly, I think we were made for each other.

those random moments that make me proud, make me laugh and make me scream

2009-06-18T21:01:00.000-07:00

:: this morning :: Liam happily and patiently wrote the titles of the books we read this week on his summer reading club list. It makes me all misty-eyed to watch him learn to read and write.

:: this afternoon :: During a walk around the neighborhood, Liam called to me to catch up. "Mom!" he shouted. "You have to see these two things I found. I think they came from outer space!"

:: this evening :: While I was giving Elliott a bath, Liam was drawing, on paper so I thought. He was, in fact, transforming into a superhero he told me later, after I, yes, screamed, because, yes, all four limbs were equally tattooed. And the genius snapped his own photos. Gotta love it.

in Lithuania

2009-06-16T05:57:00.000-07:00

Andrew posted this video of his first day at the orphanage in Taurage. I cried because it reminded me how much we have to give to others, how much more we need to do it, how truly blessed we are, and how compassionate and beautiful my husband is (even as a stubborn, outspoken Brit). I really hope you watch it, too.

If you have trouble loading this video here, try watching on the YouTube page instead.

not so good at that

2009-06-12T19:27:00.000-07:00

Andrew left yesterday for Lithuania - twelve days hanging with kids at an orphanage our church supports over there. He plans to tousle them up, shower them with love and teach them the finer points of guitar shredding, or at least play for them a little. I am so proud of him for stepping up and volunteering for the trip. And we're fine here - PB&J and banana splits every night. Can't beat that.

Today we hit the farmer's market, the library and the annual Riverfest, had a picnic lunch in the park and played Legos. I'd say that's worthy of mother of the year award.

The real telling moment, though, was when Liam took his 30 minutes video game time. After 5 minutes he called me and said he needed me. (I was washing the kitchen floor. Seriously. For the first time in three months.)

"Mom," he said. "I need to get ten points. Can you do it for me. Please?"

Now, we are not all newfangled with the WII. Our Nintendo system is so old the library doesn't even carry games for it. This was some Star Wars game where you have to fly your ship over these islands and swoop in and shoot down all the enemy convoys - with a 20 button joystick. I am all into equal opportunity, but this is really a boy thing. Still, I took the controls and said I'd give it a try.

After Liam patiently explained to me what all the buttons controlled, I hit the start and immediately nose dived into the ocean, blowing my ship to fiery bits.

"Oh, mom!" Liam cried. "You have to look where you're going."

Hmm. Yeah. Okay. Next start. To avoid the crash and burn, I forced the fighter straight up. After watching clouds soar by for a few seconds, Liam sighed.

"You aren't going to get any bad guys that way."

So, I jiggled the controls around and promptly smashed into a cliff. Firing my guns all the way.

I glanced over at Liam who was shaking his head. Then he looked at me, held out his hand and sighed.

"Mom, you better give that to me," he said. "You're not very good at this."

Although I know Andrew would have adeptly blasted each and every enemy convoy, I am proud to report that Liam did the job himself. After watching his mom play he must have figured he was good at the game after all.

a beautiful gift for a beautiful person

2009-06-11T12:08:00.000-07:00

My dear neighbor Allison is moving to Colorado. Although their move has been in the works for months and the moving van already packed them up, it didn't really sink in until last night that this friend is going to be gone in just a couple of days. Another neighbor proposed the idea of creating a collaborative quilt for Allison and 23 book club friends and neighbors - many who had never sewn a single stitch - created a square to incorporate into the final product. My camera was out of batteries as Allison opened the quilt so I only could snap this one mediocre shot. It's a stunning work of art - and a great tribute to how beautiful and loved this one woman is.

I spent a long time thinking about what I wanted to do for my square. My main goal was to make it as beautiful and happy as possible because that is how Allison makes people feel. It is her special gift. She always has a smile and a hug and an ability to make you feel like she is incredibly happy to see you anytime you walk by or get together. She is also a fabulous gardener. I look forward to seeing her poppies bloom every spring. I thought this Proust quote summed her up well: Let us be grateful to the people who make us happy, they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom.

I will miss her so much.

making our bed

2009-06-08T21:45:00.000-07:00

So, we have these worms living in our basement. They eat our garbage and make us dirt. It sounds a little weird, maybe even kind of gross, if you feel that way about worms. But, truly, it's pretty incredible. For about 8 months (longer than is recommended) we fed our red wigglers carrot tops, banana peels, apple cores and egg shells and, in return, they (in Liam's words) pooped us out about ten gallons of rich, nourishing dirt.

We probably didn't follow the best technique for sifting the worms from the dirt, as it took a very long time. We're definitely going to look into that for the next go around. Speaking of which, these worms are big time reproducers. We have enough red wigglers now for another 20 gallon bin that will need a home. Any takers?

The best part about keeping dirt-making worms is getting to use said dirt to fertilize our own little veggie garden. Memorial Day weekend we built and planted a raised bed.

Every time I plant a seed it seems absolutely impossible that anything would sprout from it. Now that Liam's involved, it feels like a little more is at stake. I am hoping at least one veggie will grow. The worm dirt should insure at least that. If nothing else, we have some awfully cute little markers.

green market

2009-06-04T18:02:00.000-07:00

We've been anticipating this day for weeks - the first day of the Geneva Green Market. Especially the berries.

And the fun things for kids, like roosters.

And drawing roosters.

But the biggest development this season is that we're taking two bikes instead of one.

Elliott very happily rides with me.

And Liam rides all by himself. More than three miles round trip. Along the river trail. His proud mama smiling right behind him.

about a boy

2009-06-02T10:27:00.000-07:00

Yesterday we finally had our appointment with the neurologist to see if there might be a medical reason why Elliott is delayed in his walking. I expected to hear things like delay, physical therapy, catch up in no time. Instead, we were thrown words like developmental disorder, autism, genetic testing. I used to think labels like these would devastate me. But that was long before I knew the boy they were referring to.

The jury is still out on whether or not Elliott has a nameable problem, if there is a medical issue behind his struggle to walk, to identify his body parts, to ask for the things he wants. But 24 hours later I am left with this one important fact: He is still the same boy he was the day before. This boy is far more than the sum of his parts. No matter what any test shows or doctor tells us, he is brimming with potential. He is capable and teachable. Above all, he is lovable. Infinitely lovable.

I have been awed by the things my friend Liita has taught her son Nathan, a smart, kind, beautiful boy who just happens to have Down Syndrome. Every time I read this post about his amazing development, including how he could identify and name every letter of the alphabet at age 2 and a half (a seeming impossibility for a child with Down Syndrome), I get a lump in my throat.

I also have been moved by the perspective of Paul Collins and Jennifer Elder, whose son Morgan was diagnosed with autism. Their interview with Krista Tippett deeply impressed me long before "autism" ever became part of our vocabulary.

Because here's the thing: Medical science, as wonderful as it is, can never measure what a child is capable of, especially if this child has parents who believe in the impossible. And society can never dictate what is good and true and normal.

The story of Elliott is about a boy. A smart, funny, happy, loving, beautiful boy. And no matter what label he ultimately gets slapped with, nothing will change that.

a belated banner and new pants

2009-05-26T20:20:00.000-07:00

The Happy Birthday banner was one of the projects that finally pushed me to get my grandma's sewing machine up and running. I got the idea (and pretty much followed the pattern) in Alicia Paulson's book Stitched in Time. The banner is so bright and happy (and it makes me so proud), we had it hanging today even though it is currently no one's birthday. Liam, however, happily pronounced that his friend Lrtih from Scotland is celebrating his 18th this week. So, twist my arm, I am indulging him and leaving it up.

One of the other things I was excited to stitch this weekend was a pair of comfy elastic-waist pants cut from an old turtleneck. I got the idea and directions in Amanda Soule's book The Creative Family. They were super easy to make and I love that the fabric is from a repurposed cast-off. I originally planned these pants for Elliott but then realized they were too big. This afternoon Liam asked if he could put them on. I figured, why not? It is sheer dumb luck that they fit him perfectly. Tonight they are pjs; tomorrow gymnastics pants. I sense we'll soon be whipping up more.

my grandma's machine

2009-05-25T20:57:00.000-07:00

My laptop died a few days ago and I've hardly given it a second thought because all I can think about is what to sew next. And, here's the thing, I have not sat and sewn at a sewing machine since high school. Until Friday. I guess all my cut-and-pinned projects, all the sewing books I've checked out (and renewed and renewed) from the library, all the ideas and dreams finally caught up with me. As if caught in some weird trance, I left my husband on the couch, walked up to my totally disorganized office, cleared a space and took my grandma's sewing machine out of its case. The first time I had ever done this since I inherited it over ten years ago.

For so long I thought it was my insecurity and busyness holding me back. Would I really remember how to sew? Would I even have time to do it? But as I paged through the manual, I began to recognize that storing this wonderful, top-of-the-line Bernina in the basement had more to do with missing the woman who had once loved it than any of my other silly reasons. Although I own many treasures that once belonged to my grandma - the massive dining room table, the cool crushed green velvet couch, the stone cherub on the kitchen shelf, the wrought iron scroll hanging outside by the backdoor - her machine is an intimate piece of history. The manual proves it.

This Bernina makes over 20 kinds of stitches. My grandma stitched each one on a different piece of fabric and stapled it into the manual on the page that explained how to make the stitch. Then she wrote notes to herself, tips and tricks and ways to bend the rules. My grams was an artist not a rule follower. She made up her own patterns and came up with unique embellishments, transforming existing garments into works of art. She knew the power of rick rack.

Even as I type I feel the loss of her sweep over me. I miss her more now than when she died nearly twenty years ago. Because more than ever I am full of ideas. Full of things I want to create and transform and embellish. I know she'd love it. She'd love to see what comes off that machine. And as sad as I am not to be able to share it with her - after hours already spent sewing up a storm this weekend - I think I'm going to continue the legacy with that machine. I hope she knows it.

the many faces of birthday boy

2009-05-19T19:51:00.001-07:00

the bordoni boys and too much birthday

2009-05-18T05:16:00.000-07:00

Last week on a trip to the library we picked up the picture book The Bearnstein Bears and Too Much Birthday. Considering our plans for the weekend, the title seemed a little ominous. Last night as I lay on the couch, 2 house parties, 48 cupcakes, 1 triple banana layer cake (a birthday MUST), 3 batches of frosting, 7 cans of silly string, 10 bubble wands, 20 diet coke geysers, a giant pile of wonderful birthday presents and many memories of dear friends and family later, I decided I could have written that book.

Saturday, we hosted a mad scientist party for Liam and his friends. I will readily admit that I "stole" the idea from another great blog. And I completely forgot to take photos during the instant snow and atomic slime making, which is a bummer because the scientists all looked so darn cute in their safety goggles, stretching and fake sneezing their florescent green slime. The decorate your own cupcake time, with gummy worms and all other forms of junky candy and sprinkles was a big hit, as well. Most of the resulting creations went uneaten (collective mom sigh).

The biggest excitement of the afternoon was when we set off the diet coke geysers. Eleven screaming kids and one soaked dad was quite a sight! Here is the video that enticed us to do this. Warning: it's kind of addictive. I have never bought diet coke in my life and I am already contemplating my next purchase.

Yesterday we hosted a family party, which centered around food and presents and cake, of course. This morning my dining room floor is still covered in chocolate cupcake crumbs and the the pile of garbage at the curb tomorrow will be embarrassing. But, hey, you only turn 5 and 2 once in the same month.

Now we're off for a bike ride.

For walking practice in squeaky shoes.

And to find some time to finish the happy birthday banner. This year there was just too much birthday.

girl trouble

2009-05-12T18:55:00.000-07:00

Everything was going well. Liam and my cousin Kristin's girls, Nora and Maggie, were racing their bikes up and down the sidewalk while third daughter Lucy and my Elliott took turns sitting on the tricycle. Then, suddenly, the drama. Maggie (the 4 year old) came running down the sidewalk in tears.

"Honey, what's wrong?" I asked

"I wanted him to love me!" she wailed, throwing herself on the grass.

Apparently Liam and Nora (the 6 year old) had declared their love for each other and kissed (on the lips) on the neighbor's driveway. Oh, dear. I guess I should have anticipated this growing interest in the opposite sex after our conversation in the car on the way to my cousin's house. It went something like this. (Because, honestly, it was cracking me up so much, I scribbled most of it down at the stop lights.)

LIAM: Did you know that I'm in love with Maggie from my school?
MOM: No. You haven't talked about Maggie before.
LIAM: Well, Paige is still my girlfriend but Maggie is going to be my wife!
[pause]
LIAM: I haven't kissed Maggie but I touched her today.
MOM: Where?
LIAM: I touched her with my leg at circle time. When she standed up I was totally going to touch her again but she walked away. That was crazy.
MOM: So, what makes Maggie so special?
LIAM: I don't know.
MOM: Well, why are you in love with her?
LIAM: I don't know.
MOM: Does she feel the same way about you?
LIAM: I don't know. [sigh] It's too many questions.

::
On the way home from Kristin's house, I told Liam that it would be better not to kiss any girls on the lips. I said he could cheek kiss but lip kissing spread germs and it would be easy to get sick, plus parents of girls his age wouldn't like the lip kissing.

"But mom, what about Ava?" he asked in a panicked tone (referring to his lifelong "girlfriend" across the street).
"What do you mean?"
"I always kiss Ava on the lips."
"Well, you need to start kissing her on the cheek instead."
"Oh, man," he sighed. "Ava's not going to like that."

Oh, dear.

summing it up

2009-05-11T20:15:00.001-07:00

One boy turned five today (five!). His observations inspire us, his dancing brings us to tears and his agility leaves us speechless. One part stunt man, one part guitar shredder, one part aeronautical engineer, one part theologian, one part naturalist. Where will he land? I cannot even fathom.

The other boy, a week from two, finds plenty to do with two chubby feet outside of walking. If it involves water, all the better. Cuddler, destroyer, singer, greeter, avid Good Night Moon reader, with a penchant for anything bitable in the vicinity of his teeth. Every day a little less a mystery, a little more a boy, loud and silly and mischievous. Where will these feet take him in another year? I cannot even fathom.

My life is filled with mayhem, mystery, marvels and madness, every single day. Some days I like it. Some days I am too tired to even notice. Some days I think someone is going to be hurled out a window if I don't get a minute to myself. But most days I can't believe I got so lucky. NPR's Steve Simon wrote it perfectly in his essay At My House, Every Day is Mother's Day. No one would ever apply for this job. But that's the big secret. If it IS your job, you'd never trade it. Not for five seconds. Not in a million years.

beyond green

2009-05-09T18:07:00.000-07:00

Today was the final day of our semi-annual church rummage sale and I spent a few hours helping out. As I folded heaps of clothes, I pulled along a shopping bag, sticking in an occasional find. Days before I had helped with the sorting and had sneaked in my pre-sale shopping, proud of the incredible bargains and the fact that I was reusing rather than buying something new. I was feeling like an all-around resourceful and resource-saving gal.

While I worked today, I noticed a shopper hauling her finds - baskets and garbage bags full of clothes and shoes - to a corner of a room where she began the long and tedious task of folding and rolling each individual item so she could fit as much as possible into brown grocery bags. Today you could fill a bag with anything that was left for a flat $5. She was smartly trying to stretch her dime as much as possible.

Throughout the morning I kept peeking at the bag lady, checking her progress and trying to guess what she might be doing with all the clothes. I figured she must own a resale store or somehow plan to turn a profit. She clearly had done this before.

When the woman was finished packing her bags - nearly an hour after the sale had ended - a worker graciously brought over a cart and helped her load up the eleven bags. After she left, I asked a woman who had worked the rummage sale longer than I if she knew anything about the lady who was buying all the clothes and shoes.

"Oh, she's been doing that for years," she said. "I don't remember the exact story, but she sends most everything to Europe - to Poland and the countries in the former Soviet Union - where clothes are incredibly hard to come by."

As I stood packing up boxes with unsold items, my eyes welled up with tears. Stretching my dollar, being environmental with my purchases, even giving my time for a good cause (while working in an opportunity to scan the dirt cheap merchandise for the last good buys) was really still all about me. And here was a woman giving her time and energy and money to do all this same kind of good . . . for someone else.

Tonight as Liam and I did our new bedtime ritual, asking each other the questions, "What are you most thankful for today?" and "What are you least thankful for today?," I remembered the bag lady. I thank God for her because she reminded me of how much more good there is to do, and that giving of yourself (not so you can pat yourself on the back and say, "look how good I am," but really giving of yourself) blesses not only the people who receive the gift but also the people who stand back and watch.

letting grow

2009-05-05T19:02:00.000-07:00

There are these moments when a person grows right before your eyes and you can hardly believe what you're seeing. When that person is your son, and he is determined and excited and patient and truly in his element, watching involves a lot of magic sprinkled with just a little sadness. He is blossoming and becoming and, quite possibly, headed for the ER. It is so bittersweet.

down-with-busy manifesto

2009-05-02T18:08:00.000-07:00

I will not fill my calendar until nothing's blank.
I will leave space to dream.
I will not blow past the moments I am quick to label "a waste of time."
I will lay in the grass and watch the clouds, dig in the dirt with a stick, contemplate the virtues of a dandelion.
I will not wake up one day and wish I had been busier.
I will be sad I didn't join in the ridiculous, nonsensical card game and let the laundry wrinkle in the drier and the email go unanswered one more night.
I will not wear a busy life like a badge of honor.
I will proudly tell people that I prefer leisure.
I will not trade what's important for what's admired.
I will let go of appearances.
I will not feel one shred of guilt.
I will be fully in this world and with the people I love.
I will not be sorry.

food for thought

2009-04-29T20:38:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow night The Green Mama is speaking at our women's spring potluck. As an organizer for the event, I have been culling "green tips" to litter the tables. Here are a few I've copied down with a little fear and trembling:

:: For every one garbage can you put out at the curb, 70 cans were filled by all the processes needed in order to make it.

:: 10 chemicals are banned from cosmetics in the U.S.; 1,100 chemicals are banned from cosmetics in Europe.

:: Average daily water use in America is 80 gallons; the rest of the world averages just 2.5 gallons.

:: A single quart of oil that seeps into the ground can pollute 250,000 gallons of drinking water.

:: The U.S. exports 1.1 million tons of potatoes annually and imports 1.4 million tons. (Can we say giant waste of oil???)

:: A mass of plastic garbage at least the size of Texas floats in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. (Thanks, Tracey, for that horrifying fact.)

:: If every citizen ate just one meal a week of all local, organic foods, U.S. oil consumption would decrease by 1.1 billion barrels weekly!

:: In the U.S., children ages 6 to 11 spend an average of 30 hours a week looking at a TV or computer monitor.

So, what's the moral of this ugly eco-story? Buy local. Read labels. Consume less. Say no to plastic. Don't let the water run. Recycle, recycle, recycle. And, by all means, send your kids outside.

capturing the moment

2009-04-24T19:34:00.000-07:00

I have two grandparents, one living, one dead, utterly enamored of the natural world. My grandmother Gaye still clucks with pleasure at each new bloom on her oak leaf hydrangea and catches her breath whenever a yellow finch darts around the feeder outside her kitchen window. She brazenly coaxes languishing blossoms with words of encouragement and chats with the birds. I dare to say they all listen to her. My grandpa George was also a naturalist, planting lavish gardens, tending chickadees and drawing, painting and carving exquisite ducks and birds. Today my son revealed his genes, and although I could have photographed a thousand lovely flowers, fish and green things, I couldn't stop trying to capture him capture the moment.

We had a date to the Garfield Park Conservatory, with the added fun of train and el rides. The fern room was my favorite. The variety of green, the lush, velvety fronds and mosses, the waterfalls, the thick, heady air.

But most of all, it was the dappled sunlight in that miniature jungle, and the sweet concentration of my sweaty little companion that stole my heart.

Our world has been grey and barren for so long that this excursion was like a visit to the chocolate factory for poor little Charlie. In order to drink it all in, we toured the entire conservatory three times. We could hardly get enough of the place.

On the way home we had a short layover in Oak Park and stopped into a novelty shop to see about spending a little of the boy's allowance. I think he made a good purchase, and found another creative way to delight his mom.