Month: December 2004

Ambushed

I do not like stories or movies that feature threatened children. They never bothered me until I actually had kids, but now I can’t watch or read them at all. I am completely unable to disconnect the Mommy Bear circuit long enough to enjoy the fiction, so I avoid it.

Today I was reading a mild thriller (book title omitted to avoid spoilers). The book tricked me. I was introduced to a pair of children that were a match to Gleek and Patches in genders and ages. I was introduced to them obliquely in such a way that I never expected them to be seriously threatened. I saw them several times and thought “Oh how cute! JUST like Patches!” And then the children were not only threatened, but the little boy died.

I finished the book because it was hard not to. Then I threw it. I am MAD. I am mad at that author for making me care about those children. I’m mad the little boy died unecessarily from a bioterror weapon. I’m mad that his father comitted suicide and I never heard whether the mother recovered from the gunshot wound and I have no idea what happened to the terrorized little girl. And all of this is part of a subplot as if this tragedy wasn’t really important. This was NOT a happy book. A well written, interesting book, but not happy. I won’t be reading any more of this author’s books because I can’t trust her to not make me mad.

The rest of this evening will be spent snuggling Patches and generally appreciating how wonderful all of my kids are.

A clarification

Some of you reading this journal may be uncomfortable or angry with the stand Howard and I have taken on Santa Claus. That is fine. I am not going to judge anyone for their parenting decisions even where those parenting decisions diverge from my own. Parenting is hard enough without having others tell you what you should and shouldn’t do. The only parents I would pass judgements on are the ones who “parent” without thinking and even then I mostly feel pity and concern for the neglected children. I doubt anyone reading this journal falls into that category.

Do I believe it is possible to be a loving and thoughtful parent while still allowing/teaching belief in Santa Claus? Absolutely. I grew up inside the Santa mythos and if I can be as good a parent as my parents were, I’ll count myself as sucessful. Every parent must find their own balance for what they teach their children. All I ask/hope is that parents think through what they are teaching and direct it, rather than letting their kids drift in the societal flow.

Polar Express Party

Tonight I went to a church christmas party.  I have no idea how many hours of work went into putting it together.  It was obviously a labor of love because you couldn’t pay someone to work that hard.  The walls were lined with mural sized scenery paintings and they’d constructed a train that kids could ride in.  They even did a  reading of The Polar Express complete with costumed actors.

That was the problem.  I took my kids to a church function where they were told a powerful and beautiful story about believing in Santa Claus.  Christ was not mentioned once in the entire evening.

I suddenly understand what it must be like for a non-religious person to be surrounded by christian assumptions.  I don’t believe in Santa Claus.  I don’t teach Santa Claus to my kids.  We all have fun together pretending about Santa Claus sometimes, but we all know it is a pretend game.  I’m never going to have to face a child who feels like the magic is gone from Christmas because they figured out the truth.  I will never teach my children anything as truth that I don’t believe is true.

This puts my family at odds with 99% of American society.  Santa Claus is pushed at my children in school, by friends, in stores, in books, in movies, just about everywhere.  I’d have thought they’d be taught correctly at Church.  To be fair, they are taught many wonderful and truthful things each Sunday.  We come home feeling enriched and peaceful.  Tonight I came home tired and empty.  Howard was furious.  (He wrote his own entry about it.) 

The kids had a great time at the party.  They don’t know how upset their parents were.  There is no gain from us ranting and raving in front of them.  Particularly when it could get back to the people who labored long, hard, and lovingly with the best intentions.  But before bed I snuggled the kids together and we read The Best Christmas Pageant Ever.  That is a book with a wonderful message and no Santa Claus anywhere.

Dance class

I have been pondering taking a dance class of some kind. There are a couple obstacles in the way of that taking place, money being one, babysitting being another. So then I ponder exactly why I’m interested in a dance class because if I can identify the need I’m trying to fill I may be able to fill it in a different way. It didn’t take much thought to figure out what a dance class would provide: Focused physical activity and Time away from the kids. Going to the gym used to provide those for me. I don’t at all regret signing over the membership to Howard. He makes such good use of it. I do miss what it used to provide.

I haven’t found a solution to this yet. I’ll just have to make do.

The Iron Giant

Today in an effort to avoid japanese animated hamsters, I responded to Patches’ demands for “Taro!” (Hamtaro) by shoving in a tape of The Iron Giant.  Such has been the mania for Hamtaro & friends in our household that most of the other videos we own have been neglected.  This meant that Patches had no memory of ever seeing The Iron Giant.  It was a brand new movie for him.  He was completely mesmerized “Robot!” I was informed when the movie was over.

90 minutes of peace is an unusual occurance, so toward the end of it I wandered in to see what the kids were doing.  I happened upon the finale of the movie.  I have seen this movie dozens of times as it has fallen in and out of favor with the kids, and yet those final moments before the explosion still have the power to bring tears to my eyes.

“You are who you choose to be.”
“Superman”

Of Kitchen Annoyances.

I annoyed Howard this evening. He came home grumpy after having done some grocery shopping. I was in “I’m reading and hiding from the children” mode and he rapidly figured out that if he wanted dinner, he’d have to do it. So he began cooking in the cluttered and grubby kitchen that I’d not gotten around to cleaning today. And I read. Few things are more frustrating than working when you don’t want to, but working when you don’t want to and someone else is sitting in plain sight Not Working definitely qualifies. I finally clued in and did some work to help.

I’m so glad that Howard helps so much in the kitchen. Keeping the kitchen clean is definitely a weak point in my housekeeping skills. I’ve gotten lots better than I used to be, but I’m still pretty sure Howard is frustrated by it every single week. He is frustrated, I know he is, but he doesn’t say anything because he values our relationship more than he values being able to vent his frustration. I can’t describe how grateful I am for that.

$100 Christmas

When Howard left Novell at the end of September I knew that I had to get working on Christmas right away. I knew I’d need to plan ahead and make things in order to keep Christmas spending really low. I made some things, I found some things second-hand, and our neighbors donated a bunch of stuff that they cleaned out of storage. I’ve pretty much got it all in hand. Howard and I are going to be able to provide a plentiful christmas and our out-of-pocket expense is going to be right in the range of $100. That includes christmas morning, gifts to each other, christmas dinner, the whole shebang.

I would not have believed that was possible had I not actually done it. One of the reasons it was possible is that we already had some stuff on hand that we’d bought for the kids and never gotten around to giving them. We also had a gift certificate at Amazon which bought Howard and my presents for each other. But I learned that Freecycle and thrift stores are great places to get stuff if you’re patient and not picky about exact brands.

I’d tell in detail what I acquired and where, but some of the kids can read. It isn’t likely that they’d see my journal, but I’d rather be safe than sorry.

This experience has taught me that all the commercialism of Christmas is really really unnecessary. In fact all the commercialism all year round is unnecessary. We are going to have fewer, less expensive presents under the tree this year, but since the kids were actively involved in their acquisition and construction I think they’ll be happier about giving and about what they receive.

So this year I pulled off the theoretically impossible. But to my mind it was only because of resources on hand and a couple of amazing windfalls. I won’t be impressed with the accomplisment until I can do it again next year after a year’s worth of tight budgeting. The only way I can picture myself making it work is if I start squirrelling away christmas for next year as soon as this year is over. Time will tell I guess.

Tis the season . . .

. . . for mice to move into our walls. Sigh. I heard one tonight. It was in the wall of Patches room, the wall right next to his crib. The Mommy Bear tells me that is far too close to my baby and that I should tear the wall open to slay the interloper. My more logical brain tells me to use traps. Unfortunately I have no clue where to set traps to catch that mouse. I have to set traps where the mouse goes and Patches and Gleek don’t go. So far I’ve only managed to identify one location like that, and it is inside a wall where I can’t go. grr.

Having skritching in the walls is NOT going to be helpful in quelling Gleek’s nighttime fears.

Any suggestions/tips on vermin killing are welcome. We get little brown deer mice.

Life is good

Yesterday Howard came up to me, gave me a hug, and said “Life is good.” I must agree. I really love our post-Novell existence. The only stress that looms is stress over money. But that stress isn’t the frightening “will we have enough to feed ourselves?” it is the worrisome “Can we bring in enough so we can keep Howard from having to go get a corporate job?” In other words what we fear most about this new existence is losing it.

We’ve fallen into some very traditional roles in this new life. Howard brings in the money, I manage it. I also do most of the housework and childcare. I’m not grumbling, because for the first time I really see how work = money. The money comes which comes in is directly related to the hours that Howard puts in while in his office. I’ve never been able to see that direct connection before. I’m also not grumbling because in this new life Howard actually does MORE housework and childcare than he had time to do before. He has time to play with the kids, which they love, and gives me a break.

We are so incredibly fortunate to be living this dream life. We’re both scrambling as hard as we can to continue it.

A Weighty Problem

It isn’t polite to ask a woman her age or her weight. This is something I was fairly clueless about until I hit college. I’ve never minded sharing my age or my weight, but then I’ve always been on the young/thin end of the scale which might have something to do with it. Now that I’m Thirty-One years old, my opinion that “age makes better” actually seems to have credence. I intend to continue to age and avoid the ridiculousness of celebrating anniversaries of 29th birthdays. On the matter of weight my opinion does not meet with so much acceptance. My opinion on matters of weight tends to be discounted simply because the genetic fairy hit me with the Wand of Thinness. If I try to join a conversation where women are discussing weight loss I get a scowl and a comment along the lines of “Like you’ve ever had a problem.” Slam. No more conversation for me. That hurts and so I’ve learned to keep my mouth shut.

In some ways the conversation-door-slammers are right. I’ve had four kids and I’m only 10 lbs heavier than I was when I got married. I’d like to trade some of that fat for muscle, but I know that there are women out there who have had no children at all and would be thrilled to weigh 128 lbs. Most of them are also significantly taller than I am. I’m short. Just under 5′ 3″. This means that if I want clothes to fit I have to buy petite sizes. (“petite” means “short”, not “small” by the way. I had that confused for years.)

On the other hand, the conversation-door-slammers are wrong. I’ve had four kids. My weight has been up close to 170 lbs. Only 10 lbs of that was baby and assorted liquid packaging. The remaining 40 lbs did not just melt away by itself. I had to learn how to control my diet and exercise regularly. The reason I haven’t lost those last 10 lbs is because it just hasn’t been important enough to me. If it was, I’d be exercising daily and eating more salad. I actually do have useful and important information about weight management. Like any information it may not apply to all situations, but he conversation-door-slammers will never get from me. They’ve taught me to keep my mouth shut.