1-31-11 Coconut!

I love Altan Brown. Clarification: I appreciate the knowledge he shares on his show "Good Eats". Until today, my favorite factoid included his caution that regardless of cooking time or temperature, wine contains trace amounts of alcohol. This impacted our family steak au jous recipe for the better, in regards to Anne. Alcohol, I feel, needs to remain absent from her diet until her brain develops more fully. Interestingly, pomegranate juice works surprisingly well instead of the wine. For that happy discovery I claim the credit.

Today I feel grateful for a new discovery, thanks to Mr. Brown. A little background first: Sometime in my early teenage years my parents brought home a whole, hairy, brown coconut from the grocery store. They devised some method of slicing off bits of the white flesh to eat using a knife. Knife and coconut in hand, while watching t.v., I managed to slice my coconut, along with a small portion of the tip of my left index finger. A tiny crescent scar remains.

So my interest piqued when Mr. Brown, in his customary methodical manner, demonstrated safe removal of the meat of a coconut:

1. Pierce the eyes of the nut with hammer and nail
2. Bake in the oven at some high temperature for a while
3. Remove
4. Allow to cool
5. Whack at it with a hammer
6. Peel the meat away from the shell.

OK, I employed the use of a butter knife on that last step. And it worked, beautifully. Now, sitting on a cookie sheet atop our stove, filling our kitchen with its sweet, warm aroma, tempts my lovely, peeled-and-sliced coconut. Anne and I love it!

Something about possessing the knowledge of how to do things for myself feels exciting. Like a child now able to tie my own shoes, I feel happy to go forth in the world, sharing coconut. This gift of knowledge shares easily with others. That seems like resource accumulation for myself and those around me. Ti's better to give...

1-29-11 4:00 pm Readers, and time to write!

Whomever you are, thank you! Four people follow this blog now, and three follow several others. What a celebration! So...that's the resource accumulated today.

OK, that and time. At this very moment, as I move along laundry cycles and my Lentil Barley stew sputters away in our crock pot, Harold cleans the kitchen floor, and Anne vacuums her bedroom rug. It's the coolest thing, composed of approximately 1,000, one-inch-in-diameter, 100% spun wool balls in bold earthen colors of goldenrod, pumpkin, plum, cranberry, robin's-egg blue, and black. Those little fuzzy mounds grab dust and dirt quite efficiently. Anyway, we're all contributing to the household chores, and the resulting time means I can do this - write!

16 years of perfecting balanced domestic chores, 11 years of parenting, and almost 40 years of getting to know myself back the entire system. 67 cumulative years to a peaceful, clean home...this week. I feel slightly guilty pecking away at the keyboard while everyone else puts elbow grease into our home. And yet...

As if I don't do enough, let's see: christmas cards to both sides of the family, all the laundry, the cooking, daily homework and instrument practices and lessons coordination, meal-planning, decorating for each season (my family - they're sad without the bunny wreathe, Christmas tree, Valentine's basket, birthday streamers, etc., whereas I could do without almost all of it), family gift-purchasing for both sides, family social calendar coordinating, vacation planning, cleaning the kitchen and laundry appliances, windows, and gardening.

Yes, it's a lot, but for the most part, those are the chores I most enjoy, and the rest of the family suffers without them. I know, I've tried letting those go somewhere along the path, with rather disastrous results. For instance, I can tell you that dissassembling the tree on December 26th brings with it a dark cloud over my husband fully until New Year's Eve. It's simply not worth it, and ultimately, unneccessary.

With all of us contributing to routine household chores, we have more time for other things: spelling bees, orchestra practice, lunch with friends, brewing, connecting with family, reading, relaxing, and planning for more fun. Sounds simple, certainly, and it is. We enjoy living together this way. A clean kitchen floor looks more appealing after our own efforts made it happen. We've had cleaning help in the past. I found myself scrutinizing her work. After I found out her nine-year-old daughter did most of the scrubbing, we ended our arrangement immediately. Anyway, these last ten years cleaning on our own have given us opportunities to work and grow as a tighter team, and that results in, as I was saying, more time.

Today, for instance, a good friend of mine and I enjoyed a two-hour lunch together. We caught up on the last six months, made snow-shoing plans for the next few weeks, and supported one another in the kind of conversation you can only have with someone else in a very similar life situation as your own. Our time together filled my social-networking cup, reenergizing me for the other parts of my life. And, (here's the icing), when I came home Anne had completed two of her three "necessaries" today, sans nagging. Beautiful.

So we played Scrabble. She out-scored me. She out-scored me by coming up from behind which required gumption, smarts, and strategy. I love it when she wins. So, of course, does she. And then she patted me. "It's OK mom, you were so close!" What a love!

A tight team. That's what our family operates as at this point in time. I feel more than fortunate. I'm gratified for the efforts we've expended to make it all happen. Today, it feels absolutely worth it. I love the time afforded for me to write. And when I need to spend extra hours at work, my family understands. Harold often comes home after seven in the evening, so he really gets it. And Anne, she simply blesses us with her patience and creativity. And we dote on her every chance we get. We talk, walk, problem-solve, tell jokes, play games, and watch movies. We interact, and she's now independent enough to take care of herself in small amounts of time.

Parenting, marriage, and family all consume ever-so-much-more effort, time, and thought than doe-eyed lovers think at the outset. Today, 16-plus years later it feels worth everything. Every tear, every hurtful word, every contraction, every cross-country move, every fissure we ever felt required healing makes us stronger. And now here we are, three relatively happy, healthy people living cooperatively together. That's a blessing.

1-27-11 5:29 pm Height

A growth-spurt changed our plans this evening. Spending quality time with Anne for a bit early tonight felt like a top priority. And now there she lies, reading, snacking, and just resting on the couch. I think she grew a full inch just today.

In her first year I could tell when Anne was growing. She'd eat and sleep for days at a time. That was it. I'd wait for her to want to play, interact, and those energies would be usurped by the growing. She could barely manage to talk after school today. I began feeling guilty: I'd stayed too long at school, she just needed to get home, etc. And then with our things packed, ready to head out the door, food detoured us. Actually, it turned out to be the perfect destination. That child, after scrambled eggs and two pieces of toast for breakfast, a sandwich, apple and cheese stick for lunch, a water bottle, and crackers for snack, felt famished. Who knew?

So, we stopped and she ate, thanks to a good friend at school. Then we got in the car, me seriously considering stopping at Good Times on the way home, as she continued to ask for food. Then in the back seat, one mile into the trip, guess who slept in restful splendor? My much-taller-now baby. Upon entering the house, after a pit-stop, she crashed on the couch. I just kept bringing her things: a blanket and pillow, crackers and a water bottle, two books. She kept rewarding me with puppy-dog eyes and "I love you, Mom!" - quiet, gratitude-filled, powerful declarations.

She's still obligated to instrument practices, homework, and a nominal chore, maybe setting the dinner-table. These token moments today simply pay homage to routines and build confidence. I want "growth-spurts" to seem manageable for her; she has more to go, I feel sure. Her getting used to this seems prudent.

Today we gained a taller daughter. We reaffirmed the kind of trust caring for someone earns. Maybe we made a deposit in our "love" account. I hope so. At any rate, I guess I also gained a little unexpected time. She continues to rest on the couch.

1-26-11 - 5:37 pm EnDurability

Did you happen to read the cartoon strip "Baby Blues" today? Our local paper publishes it daily - thank you Loveland Reporter Herald. It's a strip about the humorous ironies of raising a young family in a two-parent household. I'm a devoted fan.

Today Wanda, the mother, directs her eldest, Zoe, to put a $3.00 candy necklace back on the store shelf. (The necklace debate occured in yesterday's strip). Wanda advises Zoe today that: "It doesn't make any sense to buy things just because you want them." To which Zoe responds: "It makes a lot more sense than buying things because you DON'T want them!"

And how right she is. It got me thinking: How much in the way of stuff do we unnecessarily purchase? A palpable feeling of overwhelmed-shopper-syndrome (O.S.S.) creeps up on me in stores now and then. Maybe more often than that. It's most likely to strike when I'm running into the grocery store to pick something up "quickly". The number of bags at check-out shows when it's happened. I maybe went in for a box of tissue and some toilet paper. Six sacks later, at the check-out, I realize I've once again succumbed to O.S.S.

It's all that power-marketing. I need to perfect my "retail-honing" sensors. Somehow we just "need" all the additional stuff that somehow finds its way into my cart. (Yes, I've tried a smaller basket, or no basket at all. Amazing how easy it is to get to the carts when my hands get full.) Sometimes it's even hard to remember putting the items in my cart in the first place. It's another good argument for walking rather than driving (although even then I've gone over-board).

I once heard this frightening statistic: 90% of U.S. consumer products are discarded within six months of initial purchase. Makes me seriously consider dumpster-diving. I think there's a show on t.v. about that.

We regularly clean house and drop off excess at Goodwill. Granted our eleven-year-old's growth patterns sometimes have us re-stocking her wardrobe three times in a season. Unbelievable, but true. So that's a good portion of what we donate. Or, as is often the case, re-donate. At her growth-rate, we can only stay ahead by shopping at second-hand stores for her as much as possible.

So, back in the grocery store, or maybe a retailer like TJ Max, Marshall's, or even Target Boutique. When I'm feeling especially concious, and notice I'm feeling pressured to make more purchases than needed, I ask myself the question: How likely is this item to become trash within the next six months? It's helped, I think. The mortifying thing is when the Goodwill bag contains newish items that I bought. Better than the landfill, yes, and still. I can do better

It seems as though the less I spend in a state of O.S.S., the more financial resources accumulate and remain available for sexier expenditures: a vacation, a special gift, a guilt-free nice dinner-out, etc. And those are the stuff of memories, the most enduring of all. Until we make some of those exciting purchases, Zoe's comment echos in my memory: "...[You're] buying things you DON'T want!"

1-25-11 6:10 pm Re-Posting: Hot Coffee and Other Miracles

This morning a cup of perfectly made, hot, decaffeinated coffee appeared at my desk, entirely free of effort, money or time spent on my part. It was as if the universe knew exactly what I wanted, and delivered. Harold actually did the delivering. Ahhh. Thank you, Harold. Have I told you recently how much I appreciate you?

And then there's a wonderful friend who, in spite of my business, continues engaging me in fascinating, relevant conversation. We make social plans just for us. With so many of my friends having been "Mommy" connections, this feels refreshing.

When Harold and I were first married, we were our social life. Period. We continue to think that a few "couple" friends would be healthy. Back when Anne came along she and I made "Mommy-Baby" friends. These matriarchs were folks empowered by sharing birth stories. They were my support network, and the babies smiling at each other only encouraged our empowered conversations. My current friendships feel more...enduring.

Empirically speaking, my current blessings could hale form a variety of sources. I am gainfully employed in a fulfilling and challenging career. Anne is older now and we all have more time for building social networks. (Must remember to make couple friends). Harold and I continue to nurture our relationship. And it must also be true that smiling, making only positive statements, and watching the "b" word contributes to this current "goodness".

1-23-11 8:23 Preparedness

Today we've accumulated preparedness for the week. Anne's science fair project is ready to turn in, a full two days early, we have carrot, tomato, and roasted vegetable soups, along with sauteed kale, lasagne, and garlic bread ready for meals, my lunches are frozen and ready to bring to school, and the house is actually fairly clean. Tile grout is scrubbed, clean sheets are on our bead, and laundary is clean, dry, and put away. Preparedness for the coming days when we're busy with schedules that take us outside the home provides peace and hopefully a restful night tonight.

1-19-11 5:50 pm Joy and Smarts

What is a resource? I suppose anything from which you derive something qualifies. So, in addition to tangibles like food and clothing, sleep, relaxation, shelter, transportation, we can also include things like love and knowledge.

Hopefully that's the case. By some magic, my daughter and I spend more time together these days. The cuddles, hugs, and meaningful conversations fill my heart for sure. Additionally, we're spending more time together on her academic and extra curricular endeavors. We spent part of one of her piano practices (she works on Broadway show tunes, in part) singing along to the songs she was playing. She grinned the entire time, and listening to her beautiful voice, following the notes she pressed, gave my spirit a gigantic lift.

And we've been preparing her for the district spelling bee. Who know that "zigzaggedness" was a word. It just looks like "zigzag" with two suffixes tacked on the end. At any rate, all this time together builds shared memories between us, which in itself is at least as gratifying as any one of our shared moments in it self.

I'm counting my blessings as we count the years and months left that we can count on having our daughter at home with us.