If you know me reasonably well you already know that rules and limits are not something that I embrace whole heartedly. When I took basic programming in high school I almost drove Mrs. Bun Lady nuts because if she said to write the program like so in order to achieve a certain result, then I thought, "Huh, I bet if I write the program this other way I can achieve the same result."
Even now as a teacher I find it challenging to follow all the rules and stay on the script. If I see that a rule is just a time waster, busy work, cookie cutter producer, then I really have to weigh out the consequences of not following the rule before I can bring myself to do it.
Recently I decided that my family needed a spending freeze, or at least a spending slow down. I had checked our account on Monday as well as the bills that had to be paid that week and decided we were cutting it close. We needed to put off all purchases until Friday. I had a little cash in my purse that could cover any small emergencies.
This summer I've been trying not to use less electricity, because I wanted to offset the pool, and I've been trying to use less gas, to offset the four dollars a gallon. I also set these rules up for myself because I do care what happens to God's creation.
I'm pretty well employed and so is my husband, so these rules are entirely self imposed. Self imposed, for good reasons, but certainly not brought on by the crush of poverty, and I certainly don't intend to compare myself with those who find themselves making very serious choices between food and medicine.
As I was out walking to the store with JD today I was surprised to find myself thinking that setting limits on yourself can actually make you creative. Right after I had decided that we couldn't spend any money, I discovered that we were out of bread and the next day that the car was out of gas. It was tempting to just throw up my hands and take money out of savings to cover these necessities. It's not like it was really life and death that we stick to this spending freeze.
Instead, after I fussed about in my head for a little while, I realized that I actually know how to make bread and that I have all the ingredients in the house because we make pizza crust every week. Luckily there were hot dog and hamburger buns leftover from last week that Russ could use for the kid's lunches until I had time to make the bread. Equally lucky, I had the next day off which gave me time to make the bread and meant that I didn't need gas to go all the way to Holland.
The car was super empty, but Russ had just filled the van before I declared the freeze, so I told him to sleep in on Wednesday and wait to go to work until I got back from taking the kids to school in the van. When I brought him the van, then he took it to work. It was not at all difficult to convince him to sleep in. Another day I threw my bike in the back of the van and hitched a ride to the Y with Russ in order to go to yoga, then I rode back home again.
Setting limits on myself, giving myself a box so to speak, actually made me think more creatively. I'm sure the fact that I put the limits on myself is part of why it was a good thing and not a bad thing, but still, I do wonder if there has to be a box in order for you to think outside of it.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Back to People of the Book for a Minute
You might recall my earlier post on
People of the Book.
The character, Hanna Heath, says that she doesn't restore books, she preserves them. When she works with an old book she does whatever work needs to be done on it to keep it held together and to slow or even halt its aging. What she doesn't do is fix, replace and touch it up so that it looks like it did when it left the original bookbinder. Her mentor taught her that the scars left on the book have become part of its story and to take them away is to change or hide the book's story.
That is such a good illustration of my own philosophy of old things. I look at an old desk and all it's scuff marks, dents, carvings and scrapes and it tells me the story of all the people who used that desk before me. I imagine them working at that desk, making plans, calculating costs, recording dreams, taking in stories, all the things that I do at that desk, and I feel connected to their story. I want to get an old stove or dry sink to keep our backpacks and shoes in.
I love old things that belonged to other people and old things that were originally mine.
It's so hard for me to get rid of some of my possessions because there are so many stories wrapped up in those items. I know that the story is still part of me, but the thing helps to tell the story. I once teared up as I threw away a VERY worn out pair of red flats. I have a sweater that I never wear because it is coming apart at the cuffs and collar, but I just can't let it go.
My attachment isn't limited to clothes either. I have a massive dresser that I have had since I was kid. Actually there are two dressers, and even though they are large and dark and don't really fit in the rooms where they are, I just can't let them go. I've never tried to change how they look or even put on new pulls so that they all match. I do have to say though, they show very little of the wear that you would expect from such old pieces of furniture (They were used when they came to me as a kid.) because they are so well made. I think they date back to when making furniture was still an art. Come on! Who could let something like that go?
I hope that as I get older- forty is right around the corner- that I get to apply this philosophy to myself. I hope I like all the marks that living leaves on me and that I don't try to hide or remove them. I hope that as I look at myself and others and see those signs of aging, that I see stories and wonderfully rich histories. After all, smooth, new and perfect has no story yet, whether we're talking people or chairs. I sure hope my love of story beats out vanity.
People of the Book.
The character, Hanna Heath, says that she doesn't restore books, she preserves them. When she works with an old book she does whatever work needs to be done on it to keep it held together and to slow or even halt its aging. What she doesn't do is fix, replace and touch it up so that it looks like it did when it left the original bookbinder. Her mentor taught her that the scars left on the book have become part of its story and to take them away is to change or hide the book's story.
That is such a good illustration of my own philosophy of old things. I look at an old desk and all it's scuff marks, dents, carvings and scrapes and it tells me the story of all the people who used that desk before me. I imagine them working at that desk, making plans, calculating costs, recording dreams, taking in stories, all the things that I do at that desk, and I feel connected to their story. I want to get an old stove or dry sink to keep our backpacks and shoes in.
I love old things that belonged to other people and old things that were originally mine.
It's so hard for me to get rid of some of my possessions because there are so many stories wrapped up in those items. I know that the story is still part of me, but the thing helps to tell the story. I once teared up as I threw away a VERY worn out pair of red flats. I have a sweater that I never wear because it is coming apart at the cuffs and collar, but I just can't let it go.
My attachment isn't limited to clothes either. I have a massive dresser that I have had since I was kid. Actually there are two dressers, and even though they are large and dark and don't really fit in the rooms where they are, I just can't let them go. I've never tried to change how they look or even put on new pulls so that they all match. I do have to say though, they show very little of the wear that you would expect from such old pieces of furniture (They were used when they came to me as a kid.) because they are so well made. I think they date back to when making furniture was still an art. Come on! Who could let something like that go?
I hope that as I get older- forty is right around the corner- that I get to apply this philosophy to myself. I hope I like all the marks that living leaves on me and that I don't try to hide or remove them. I hope that as I look at myself and others and see those signs of aging, that I see stories and wonderfully rich histories. After all, smooth, new and perfect has no story yet, whether we're talking people or chairs. I sure hope my love of story beats out vanity.
Sunday, September 21, 2008
I Think We've Got the Wrong Sin City
I suppose Las Vegas' title of "Sin City" is well earned. People have put a lot of time and effort into the partying that has gotten it that name, so I don't want to strip them of their tightly lightly.
However. I'd like to nominate Wall Street for the title of Sin City. I know it's only a part of a city, but I believe it looms large enough in the world's imagination to be considered a city. Whatever it's actual status as a city, Wall Street has enough bad behavior to make Las Vegas strippers blush. I'd like to thank
Satellite Sisters
and
This American Life
for giving me the evidence I needed to make this nomination.
I learned from Julie, or maybe Liz, Dolan, that the CEOs of Fanny Mae and Freddie Mac will receive a combined severance package of 23 million dollars! Did you catch the word severance in that last sentence? They are being paid 23 million dollars to go away! They are being paid to go away because they and those who work for them nearly crashed the entire world's financial markets. That has got to be the craziest business thing I have ever heard, except that it sounds vaguely familiar. I think that the CEOs of the big telecom companies that crashed a few years ago walked away with a lot of money as well. How is that not a crime?
I also learned, from Alex Bloomberg, that Paul Cox, who is the head of the Securities and Exchange Commission, Wall Street's police department, doesn't think that he needs more regulations to help prevent the kind of melt downs we're seeing today, nor does he need more money to enforce the regulations he's got to work with now. I heard him tell the Senate Committee that was offering him both of those, "No thanks." If you want the title of Sin City, having a police department that's not interested in enforcing any laws should go a long way towards earning you that moniker.
It sort of seems like there is an active, intentional campaign to steal Las Vegas' nickname because Wall Street insiders have even given some of their shady practices seemingly dirty names. The two that I learned about this week are "Asset Stripping" and "Naked Short Selling." The best that I can understand it is that Asset Stripping is when you buy a company, fire everyone, and sell off everything else and hope to make a profit. You do this without concern for the actual humans involved in the company. Naked Short Selling seems even more criminal to me. This is when a broker sells a stock that he thinks is going to drop soon, then when it does drop, he buys it back and makes a profit. The sneaky thing here is that the broker sells stocks that he doesn't even own! The practice grew out of regular short selling which involved borrowing the stock that showed promise of dropping, then selling it, then buying it back, then returning it to the person from whom you borrowed it. Somewhere along the line the brokers went naked and dropped the borrowing step. How do these people sleep at night?
So, while Las Vegas sure makes a flashier Sin City, what with all the lights and the sparkly tassels, I think that Wall Street certainly has a fighting chance of stealing the title. Stay tuned....
However. I'd like to nominate Wall Street for the title of Sin City. I know it's only a part of a city, but I believe it looms large enough in the world's imagination to be considered a city. Whatever it's actual status as a city, Wall Street has enough bad behavior to make Las Vegas strippers blush. I'd like to thank
Satellite Sisters
This American Life
I learned from Julie, or maybe Liz, Dolan, that the CEOs of Fanny Mae and Freddie Mac will receive a combined severance package of 23 million dollars! Did you catch the word severance in that last sentence? They are being paid 23 million dollars to go away! They are being paid to go away because they and those who work for them nearly crashed the entire world's financial markets. That has got to be the craziest business thing I have ever heard, except that it sounds vaguely familiar. I think that the CEOs of the big telecom companies that crashed a few years ago walked away with a lot of money as well. How is that not a crime?
I also learned, from Alex Bloomberg, that Paul Cox, who is the head of the Securities and Exchange Commission, Wall Street's police department, doesn't think that he needs more regulations to help prevent the kind of melt downs we're seeing today, nor does he need more money to enforce the regulations he's got to work with now. I heard him tell the Senate Committee that was offering him both of those, "No thanks." If you want the title of Sin City, having a police department that's not interested in enforcing any laws should go a long way towards earning you that moniker.
It sort of seems like there is an active, intentional campaign to steal Las Vegas' nickname because Wall Street insiders have even given some of their shady practices seemingly dirty names. The two that I learned about this week are "Asset Stripping" and "Naked Short Selling." The best that I can understand it is that Asset Stripping is when you buy a company, fire everyone, and sell off everything else and hope to make a profit. You do this without concern for the actual humans involved in the company. Naked Short Selling seems even more criminal to me. This is when a broker sells a stock that he thinks is going to drop soon, then when it does drop, he buys it back and makes a profit. The sneaky thing here is that the broker sells stocks that he doesn't even own! The practice grew out of regular short selling which involved borrowing the stock that showed promise of dropping, then selling it, then buying it back, then returning it to the person from whom you borrowed it. Somewhere along the line the brokers went naked and dropped the borrowing step. How do these people sleep at night?
So, while Las Vegas sure makes a flashier Sin City, what with all the lights and the sparkly tassels, I think that Wall Street certainly has a fighting chance of stealing the title. Stay tuned....
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Whatever
It usually starts the same way. You start out to be a good person; you intend to be a good friend, employee, parent. It's just that somewhere along the way it all goes horribly wrong, or perhaps less dramatically, just not the way you planned.
Abby and I stopped by the library to pick up a book about ballet. There's actually a whole long story that goes with that as well, involving reproductive health, but that is not the point of this story. The point of THIS story is that I was doing the good thing by going to the library with Abby to get a book about ballet. While we're at it, why don't we get some new Olivia Sharpe chapter books to read together? See what a good parent I am being here?
As I headed over to the computer to look up the author of Olivia Shapre, the librarian comes over to speak to me. She gestures to a box on top of the nearby bookshelf, "If you would like, you can enter our drawing for two free tickets to the circus. Just fill out this little slip and put it in the box. Of course, only if you want to."
Now let me inform you that Abby is standing right there between the librarian and the box, so when she says, "Of course, only if you want to," that is just so many words. Of course it doesn't matter if I WANT to or not, I am GOING to get sucked in.
"The circus?! Mom! Can we do it?! Let's do it! It's the circus?"
"What the heck," I think. "It will take me two seconds and what's the harm? It's not like anything will come of this."
A little voice in my head does say, "That's going to be a problem if she wins, because you did hear her say 'two' free tickets didn't you? And you, young lady, have three children."
The Whatever, Let's Just Get Going With The Business We Came Here to Do voice in my head is much louder and it says,"She'll never win, and she won't stop pestering you to do it, so just get on with it."
So I fill out the slip, drop it in the box, and get a phone call two weeks later saying that she's won two tickets to the circus and do I want them? It's in two days and will be in town for four days.
Do I want them? Heck no. I don't really like the circus, I've just made plans to go to Ohio/Indiana for a baby shower during the same time frame. I also have to/get to work an extra day in there. But do I say, "Oh, sorry we can't really use them. Call the next person on your list?" No, I do not.
I say, "I guess I could pick them up tomorrow."
What?! Why?!
I don't know! Guilt, I guess. Who turns down a chance to take their kid to the circus for free? Mean parents, that's who! Parents who are too busy to put their children first! Parents who make decisions based on the bottom line, not on the joyful glee of childhood! ARGH!
So I get the tickets. Then I make my next mistake. I don't look around carefully enough when I quietly mention to my husband that we have this voucher for free tickets (Which, BTW will involve a trip downtown to exchange the voucher for actual tickets and will have to be done on my one day off.) and somehow Abby overhears our discussion about the circus.
The next day, in the car, she says, "Was Dad just teasing when he said that he had circus tickets for me?"
And again, I remind you, I WANT to be a good parent and so I tell her the truth! "Yes, it's true, but honey, I'm not sure we'll be able to go."
Now the whole thing blows up in my face. The other two get involved, "What?! Abby gets to go to the circus? We want to go to the circus. That is SO not fair!" Well, duh, of course it's not fair, and while we're at it, it is SO not fair that I'm caught in this whole dung heap, but I don't mention that.
I call Russ at work. He says, "I don't want to go to the circus. Why don't you just take Abby and Rachel. JD got to go when he was three, so that's fair."
Are you kidding me?
So I wrestle and debate with myself all night. How much money do I want to spend? How much rushing around do I want to do? How mean is it to tell your kid that she won tickets to the circus but you just can't be bothered to take her? Is it possible to tell the other two that it's just their bad luck that they didn't win? It hasn't occurred to them yet that I might not have even entered them and that I was completely unfair right from the get go. Again, Argh!
In the end I tell Abby that we just can't swing it this weekend and that I'm really sorry and of course she cries. I do end up being a little bit of a good parent still because I do NOT tell her to quit her crying and get over it or I'll give her something to cry about. I do hug her and say that I understand that she's sad and again, that I'm sorry.
Let me be clear: I do NOT think that good parents give their kids everything they want. But I do feel awfully bad about this one situation when I could have given her a really fun thing for the low low cost of a little frustration and either a little money or a little pissing off of the other two kids- whichever I decided I was in the mood for.
So what's the lesson here? I have no clue, I'm just sayin' you always start off with good intentions, doncha?
Abby and I stopped by the library to pick up a book about ballet. There's actually a whole long story that goes with that as well, involving reproductive health, but that is not the point of this story. The point of THIS story is that I was doing the good thing by going to the library with Abby to get a book about ballet. While we're at it, why don't we get some new Olivia Sharpe chapter books to read together? See what a good parent I am being here?
As I headed over to the computer to look up the author of Olivia Shapre, the librarian comes over to speak to me. She gestures to a box on top of the nearby bookshelf, "If you would like, you can enter our drawing for two free tickets to the circus. Just fill out this little slip and put it in the box. Of course, only if you want to."
Now let me inform you that Abby is standing right there between the librarian and the box, so when she says, "Of course, only if you want to," that is just so many words. Of course it doesn't matter if I WANT to or not, I am GOING to get sucked in.
"The circus?! Mom! Can we do it?! Let's do it! It's the circus?"
"What the heck," I think. "It will take me two seconds and what's the harm? It's not like anything will come of this."
A little voice in my head does say, "That's going to be a problem if she wins, because you did hear her say 'two' free tickets didn't you? And you, young lady, have three children."
The Whatever, Let's Just Get Going With The Business We Came Here to Do voice in my head is much louder and it says,"She'll never win, and she won't stop pestering you to do it, so just get on with it."
So I fill out the slip, drop it in the box, and get a phone call two weeks later saying that she's won two tickets to the circus and do I want them? It's in two days and will be in town for four days.
Do I want them? Heck no. I don't really like the circus, I've just made plans to go to Ohio/Indiana for a baby shower during the same time frame. I also have to/get to work an extra day in there. But do I say, "Oh, sorry we can't really use them. Call the next person on your list?" No, I do not.
I say, "I guess I could pick them up tomorrow."
What?! Why?!
I don't know! Guilt, I guess. Who turns down a chance to take their kid to the circus for free? Mean parents, that's who! Parents who are too busy to put their children first! Parents who make decisions based on the bottom line, not on the joyful glee of childhood! ARGH!
So I get the tickets. Then I make my next mistake. I don't look around carefully enough when I quietly mention to my husband that we have this voucher for free tickets (Which, BTW will involve a trip downtown to exchange the voucher for actual tickets and will have to be done on my one day off.) and somehow Abby overhears our discussion about the circus.
The next day, in the car, she says, "Was Dad just teasing when he said that he had circus tickets for me?"
And again, I remind you, I WANT to be a good parent and so I tell her the truth! "Yes, it's true, but honey, I'm not sure we'll be able to go."
Now the whole thing blows up in my face. The other two get involved, "What?! Abby gets to go to the circus? We want to go to the circus. That is SO not fair!" Well, duh, of course it's not fair, and while we're at it, it is SO not fair that I'm caught in this whole dung heap, but I don't mention that.
I call Russ at work. He says, "I don't want to go to the circus. Why don't you just take Abby and Rachel. JD got to go when he was three, so that's fair."
Are you kidding me?
So I wrestle and debate with myself all night. How much money do I want to spend? How much rushing around do I want to do? How mean is it to tell your kid that she won tickets to the circus but you just can't be bothered to take her? Is it possible to tell the other two that it's just their bad luck that they didn't win? It hasn't occurred to them yet that I might not have even entered them and that I was completely unfair right from the get go. Again, Argh!
In the end I tell Abby that we just can't swing it this weekend and that I'm really sorry and of course she cries. I do end up being a little bit of a good parent still because I do NOT tell her to quit her crying and get over it or I'll give her something to cry about. I do hug her and say that I understand that she's sad and again, that I'm sorry.
Let me be clear: I do NOT think that good parents give their kids everything they want. But I do feel awfully bad about this one situation when I could have given her a really fun thing for the low low cost of a little frustration and either a little money or a little pissing off of the other two kids- whichever I decided I was in the mood for.
So what's the lesson here? I have no clue, I'm just sayin' you always start off with good intentions, doncha?
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Tots with "Style"
I haven't whined in awhile, so.....
I saw a baby at church last week with a sippy cup that looked more like a stainless steel coffee mug than a sippy cup. It reminded me of all the people that I've heard comment over the years about how much they hate baby stuff, or who have decorated their kid's rooms in the style's and colors that are currently trendy for adults- twig art on your kid's wall? And have you seen the myriad shirts for toddlers with adult phrases on them, "Chicks dig me!?" "Hot for Momma." In some ways it's funny, but in other ways, I think, "Way too much grown up humor and attitude for little kids."
I'm sure an eighteen month old or a two year old doesn't really care if their clothes are cool or not, but that's really my point. They do care if it's what THEY like. I'm pretty sure no kid ever grabbed their grandma and said, "Come look at my new room! It looks just like Paige had the designers from Trading Spaces here!" I'm sure that when Dean got all his Cars decals and bedroom gear though, he showed everyone who stepped into the house. I know my son loved his Batman comforter way more than he would have 300 thread count duvet from Potter Barn.
Kids shows and music get the same bad rap. If a TV show is sweet and clean with no sarcasm and no cynicism it's only good for preschoolers. Apparently by the time you get to early grade school you better be a little edgier. I'm not saying that High School Musical is Art, but I will say this for them, they haven't forgotten that the parents are not their intended audience. It doesn't matter to my girls that the characters are impossibly sweet and the whole situation is impossibly wholesome. Why do I want my eight and five year olds to contemplate the real world of teenagers anyway?! For pete's sake, I'm not crazy about my ten year old contemplating the world of teenagers.
I'm sure someone out there is thinking, "It's just stuff; it might as well have some decent design sense," and/or "I'm just trying to give my kids a good sense of style and taste early on." I guess to a point I can go along with you; I think it matters WHY you need your kid's style to match yours.
I think that you only get about ten to fifteen years of childhood out of seventy-five years or so. It seems to me that something so fleeting deserves to be consecrated as special. Their childhood isn't for you, it's for them. You're just fortunate enough to be allowed to visit. I say it's ok for parents to sacrifice their own amazing coolness and super trendy taste for just a little while. Think of your aversion to kid's music as a sign that you've grown up, and congratulate yourself on how far you've come. After all isn't that why there's date night and why you have your own bedroom? You're the grownup! You get to leave the Dora dishes filled with macaroni and cheese for the baby sitter to deal with and take your super trendy self out for some super trendy fun!
I saw a baby at church last week with a sippy cup that looked more like a stainless steel coffee mug than a sippy cup. It reminded me of all the people that I've heard comment over the years about how much they hate baby stuff, or who have decorated their kid's rooms in the style's and colors that are currently trendy for adults- twig art on your kid's wall? And have you seen the myriad shirts for toddlers with adult phrases on them, "Chicks dig me!?" "Hot for Momma." In some ways it's funny, but in other ways, I think, "Way too much grown up humor and attitude for little kids."
I'm sure an eighteen month old or a two year old doesn't really care if their clothes are cool or not, but that's really my point. They do care if it's what THEY like. I'm pretty sure no kid ever grabbed their grandma and said, "Come look at my new room! It looks just like Paige had the designers from Trading Spaces here!" I'm sure that when Dean got all his Cars decals and bedroom gear though, he showed everyone who stepped into the house. I know my son loved his Batman comforter way more than he would have 300 thread count duvet from Potter Barn.
Kids shows and music get the same bad rap. If a TV show is sweet and clean with no sarcasm and no cynicism it's only good for preschoolers. Apparently by the time you get to early grade school you better be a little edgier. I'm not saying that High School Musical is Art, but I will say this for them, they haven't forgotten that the parents are not their intended audience. It doesn't matter to my girls that the characters are impossibly sweet and the whole situation is impossibly wholesome. Why do I want my eight and five year olds to contemplate the real world of teenagers anyway?! For pete's sake, I'm not crazy about my ten year old contemplating the world of teenagers.
I'm sure someone out there is thinking, "It's just stuff; it might as well have some decent design sense," and/or "I'm just trying to give my kids a good sense of style and taste early on." I guess to a point I can go along with you; I think it matters WHY you need your kid's style to match yours.
I think that you only get about ten to fifteen years of childhood out of seventy-five years or so. It seems to me that something so fleeting deserves to be consecrated as special. Their childhood isn't for you, it's for them. You're just fortunate enough to be allowed to visit. I say it's ok for parents to sacrifice their own amazing coolness and super trendy taste for just a little while. Think of your aversion to kid's music as a sign that you've grown up, and congratulate yourself on how far you've come. After all isn't that why there's date night and why you have your own bedroom? You're the grownup! You get to leave the Dora dishes filled with macaroni and cheese for the baby sitter to deal with and take your super trendy self out for some super trendy fun!
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