Uncategorized

We weren’t exactly poor when I bought these shoes. We lived in a nice house filled with nice things. We were paying our bills and buying food without scrounging. But Howard had just quit his job at Novell to become a cartoonist. Our income was minimal and our savings were dwindling. Gleek really wanted/needed flip flops for the summer. They were on sale, but it was very hard to part with $6 for brand new shoes when all our other clothes were coming from thrift shops and garage sales for less than a dollar. I remember holding the shoes in my hand and examining them for durability. Spending the money on shoes that would last for a year or two was one thing. Spending money on shoes that would break inside two months was something else. They looked strong. They were adorable. And I knew that Gleek would love them. I bought them and brought them home.

I confess I rather hovered over those shoes for the first while. Gleek did love them, but left them laying around with typical 3 year old abandon. I can’t count the number of times I collected them from neighbor’s houses or even from odd corners of our own house. I felt stressed or worried if the shoes went missing because Gleek did not own many pairs. But they made me happy when she wore them. I was glad my little girl had something pretty in her life during a time when I could not buy her much. I loved watching her clomp around in them. They were big on her feet, so she could wear them for a couple of years. Time marched on and our financial situation changed. I stopped paying attention to these shoes except to kick them into the closet along with all the other pairs.

It has been five years now since I stood in the store debating whether to buy the shoes. Today Gleek handed them to me to get rid of because they are too small. The five years of wear really shows. The toes are scuffed and torn because Gleek tends to drag the fronts of her feet. The soles are worn almost smooth. You can see shadows of the feet that wore them. One of the rhinestones is missing. The small crevices have years of accumulated dirt and sand from trips to beaches or just from being left outside. These shoes have been lost for months on end, then found again. They have been left in the car, left at friend’s houses, lost in the snow, and buried in closets. I have no idea all the creative adventures these shoes have participated in, but now their time has past. Gleek’s feet are too large. She no longer loves pink and butterflies. Now she loves blue, black, green, and furry animals such as cats.

To live is to change and to grow. Things come into our lives and play a part, sometimes an essential part. Then the season passes and it is time to let them go. This afternoon I will deliver the shoes to another little girl who is enamored of pink butterflies. She will not mind the scuff marks or wear. In her eyes these shoes will be as new and they will be beautiful again. It makes me sad to part with them, they are one of the few remnants of that season of our lives when all my energy was spent to make the money last. I had no way of knowing that the shoes would outlive the financial crisis, But they did. We all made it through. Now it is time to pass them on, just as I have moved on. But I did photograph them and write this entry because I do not want to forget.

This afternoon I sat down with my kids to watch the 1975 version of Escape to Witch Mountain. This is a film with strong nostalgia for me because I watched it a lot as a kid. The kids were willing to watch, but some of them were a little skeptical.

When the opening credits began to roll Link asked “Is this movie in black and white?”

Kiki leaned over and patted his leg reassuringly. “No. It’s in cheesy.”

It was indeed filmed in cheesy. There was even a side order of 70’s clothing. Kiki actually groaned at some of the special effects. But they all enjoyed it anyway. Even Kiki.

We’ve finally settled in to the Fall schedule. Part of the settling in was me evaluating our finances and figuring exactly what it is going to take to make ends meet between now and our next book release. At the moment those ends don’t meet, but we have plans for rapidly twisting a new rope to tie in the middle. Part of the planning/evaluation process involve me writing down a list of things we want to purchase or replace. Most of the list will wait until money is more plentiful, but it is a useful reference for when we are struck by a shiny thing. Having the list helps us to think twice and figure out what is really most important to us.

The list was begun, but not complete when I went into our storage room and discovered the water damage. Water had leaked from the ceiling onto several stacks of Schlock books. My first thought was that the ice maker in the fridge had leaked again, but this water damage ran in a different pattern than fridge leaks previously had. Some poking around with a flashlight in both the kitchen and the storage room identified the dishwasher as the likely culprit. $90 and one repair visit later, it was determined that the heating element in the dishwasher shorted out and melted a hole in the floor of the washer. This hole runs like a little faucet if we use the dishwasher and can’t be patched because the melting around it weakens the whole structure. The only way for us to have a functioning dishwasher is for us to buy a new one.

Dishwasher was not on that list of purchases. We were quite happy with our dishwasher. Now we must evaluate the purchase of a dishwasher against the other things on the purchasing list while also figuring out how much extra rope we’ll have to twist to cover the additional gap. It could be done, but I find myself pondering the issue of want versus need. Having a dishwasher is certainly convenient, but do we really need it? I’ve read stories of families where the dishwasher broke and the resulting hand washing of dishes provided useful bonding time between parents and children. I like the idea of teaching my kids proper dish washing method while talking to them about their lives. On the other hand, every minute that I spend washing dishes is not spent doing something else. My time can be incredibly valuable. Right now things are slower and so the hand washing of dishes has some appeal, but life is not going to stay slow. I must ask myself if we will hand wash dishes in the midst of a book shipping, or ifthe stacked up dishes will encourage us to eat out rather than generate more dishes. I can picture all the money we saved not buying a dishwasher being frittered away because in stressful moments I decide not to cook.

The next step is tri-fold. First I need to institute a dish washing rotation. Whether or not we buy a new dishwasher, it’ll take about a week to get the thing and the dishes can’t wait that long. Second I need to start doing some of those rope twisting activities. E-bay auctions here we come. Third, I need to get out and look at dishwashers. We need to know prices and installation costs to make an informed decision. And while I am looking I will continue to ponder want vs need. Sometimes the answer is clear, sometimes less so.

9/17/09 Edited to add: Thank you to everyone who responded with suggestions and information. All of it will be useful to me as I shop around to decide our course of action. Thank you also for the offers of help. We’ll be in touch if we decide to take you up on it. As of this date I still haven’t managed to get out and go looking at dishwashers, which is step one in the decision making process. I plan to go tomorrow morning.

Today was
walking across newly buckled hardwood flooring because the dishwasher decided to leak two days ago. Packing orders on a newly dry shipping table that had been made wet by the same dishwasher. Making an appointment for appliance repair.

business conversations with Howard in the kitchen where we hammered out current policy and future plans.

Taking Gleek to her first private art lesson, then picking her up and hearing “It’s over already?” Then watching her carry her new art supplies through the house as she began to create characters for a comic strip.

Watching for Kiki because she was late home from school and hadn’t called. Then seeing her as I was leaving to drive Gleek to lesson and learning that her lateness was the bus’ fault and that she would have called me if she could.

Listening as Link visits with our bishop about his upcoming ordination and responsibilities. Watching Link sit very straight in his chair with confidence and sureness in his eyes.

Holding hands with Howard as we walked home together.

Watching kids run wildly in the back yard, playing ever shifting games with their friends. Letting them stay up a little later that I should have because warm evenings are lovely and I did not want to cut it short.

Talking with my friend as we watch our kids play together.

Requiring Gleek to sit in the grass and blow invisible bubbles into which she can put her angry feelings and let them go. Then watching her do this same process by herself several times as there are frictions between friends.

Having the house clean enough that sweeping and vacuuming were minor tasks rather than major efforts.

Patch accidentally slapping me in the mouth while trying to give me a high five, and both of us laughing about it.

Watching over Kiki’s shoulder as she does some amazing coloring on one of Howard’s original drawings.

Realizing that my life is full of good things that I sometimes fail to notice.

For his twelfth birthday Link wanted “something Linkish” as in “something like the Legend of Zelda games”. He decided that fighting cardboard monsters in the back yard would be a good choice. At first I was a bit daunted by this challenge as I pictured us constructing elaborate monsters which would then be attached to poles, or something. But then I realized a much simpler plan would suffice.

We began with these boxes, of which I have many laying around. We bought prizes and treats to put inside the boxes, but then I pictured the fate of those goodies once they had been battered around inside a box.

Instead, I put a ball inside each box. The ball became the heart of the beast. Each guest could gain a treat bag by bringing me the heart of their monster.

The party guests were each given a box and some markers and they got creative.

Each guest was issued a sword from the armory.

Then they all departed into the back yard and the pummeling began. I can’t think of a happier activity for four 12 year old boys (and one 14 year old girl, and one 8 year old girl, and one 6 year old boy.) than to be given permission to pummel boxes into utter destruction.

They were victorious.

And there were treasures.

A good time was had by all.

Getting rid of things is empowering. Every time I get throw something away or give it away a part of my brain rejoices that I will never have to pick up that item or put it away again. I like shelves, closets, and rooms that have empty spaces in them. I feel overwhelmed and crowded when all the spaces are full. This is why I trashed the boys’ room today. I scraped all of their closet shelves bare and tossed everything into piles in the center of the room. This was the point at which Howard stepped into the doorway. His eyes went wide as he surveyed the mess. The process of sorting is frequently messy. But bit by bit the piles got smaller and more organized. bit by bit order emerged from the chaos. I was very pleased to haul out several garbage bags full of things that I will never have to clean up again. The boys were very pleased to realize that I’d found all the pieces to various games. It was with a sense of accomplishment that I vacuumed the floor. Then I walked out into the rest of the house and realized that every single room needs similar treatment. I’m going to have to buy more garbage bags.

“You really wore that?!” Kiki reached out her hands to take the crumpled dress I had just pulled from the box. It unfolded to reveal a prairie style dress with a rose pattern print, puffed sleeves, and a full skirt.
“Yes, It was my graduation dress.” I look at it and see what she sees. The dress is woefully out of fashion. I look at it myself and wonder why I ever wore it. But I remember selecting it. I remember loving it. And I remember getting compliments on it. I can still see the beauty even while I also see the flaws. It is a bit like being cross-eyed.
“Okaaay.” Kiki says amused as she puts the dress down using only the tips of her fingers. Obviously this is not the outfit she is going to choose to wear for “blast to the past” day at school, which is why I dug out the box in the first place.
Kiki’s hands dive back into the box, pulling out the two formal dresses I saved. They fared better. Kiki oohed and held them up to herself to twirl the skirts. It is possible that she will choose to wear one of them sometime when she has a formal dance to attend. But they are also set aside. They are not obviously from another era and thus not suitable as blast to the past choices.
In the bottom of the box was my wedding dress. Kiki pulled it out almost reverently. She held it up, admiring the long whiteness of it. Then carefully folded it back into the box.
Her blast to the past ensemble ended up being a baggy white turtleneck of Howard’s with a wide belt I’d fished out of the back of my drawer. An old sweater was sacrificed to make a pair of leg warmers. She topped it all with a big floofy red bow on her pony tail. It didn’t really look like an 80’s outfit, but she felt like she was wearing an 80’s outfit. That was good enough.

******

“I know why moms are more understanding than Dads.” Gleek announced as she leaned on the kitchen counter. Her eyes were still a little red from crying. Patch sat next to her, also a little red-eyed. They had just weathered the incident of the domino set which had ended with both squabbling children being set to their rooms by Howard. Calm had returned and they were ready to discuss the experience.
“Why is that?” I asked as I carefully scraped a blob of cookie dough onto the baking stone.
“It’s because moms have the babies.”
“Maybe.” I answered. “Dads can be understanding too. I just think your dad didn’t know the deal we made about counting.”
Gleek’s eyebrows lowered. “He shouldn’t have counted. I was going to do it.” Gleek does not like when grown ups count down after giving an instruction. Recently she and I struck a bargain that I would only use counting when my request is truly important or urgent. In return, she promised to respond immediately if I began to count. The deal was struck without Howard near by.
I choose my next words carefully because I am glad that the yelling, stomping, and door slamming are over. I’d really like to keep the peace that still seems fragile. “Perhaps next time you and Patch could talk things through instead of yelling and knocking over each other’s dominoes. Then Dad wouldn’t have to come out of his office and ask you to stop.”
Both Gleek and Patch hunch up a little. This is the only acknowledgment they will make that they know I am right. After a moment’s silence, Gleek says
“Dad’s can be understanding, but mostly they are awesome.”
Patch nodded sagely in agreement. “Yeah. Dads are awesome.”
I have to agree.

******

Patch climbed into my lap and tucked his head against my neck. I swivled my chair away from the computer so that I could give my full attention to this small person. His head was a little too warm against my neck. Likely a light fever as part of the sniffle-and-cough package that he acquired last night. I suppose it should not surprise me that my first grader was the first child to stay home from school sick. At least the barking, croupy cough had subsided. Now he was just bored and in need of mild comforting with all the playmates off at school. So we sat and I listened to him talk to me about his plans for the day. He was excited to have a whole six hours of playing time. I held him, glad that life has been more child focused lately. I have time to sit and hold my boy until he is ready to go do something else. It is so much better than constantly shooing him off to go find something else to do because I need to work. The snuggle did not last all that long. The minute we heard Howard’s shower turn off, Patch jumped from my lap to go make a request from Dad. I need to remember to treasure these small moments. They are over too soon.

Dawn sneaks up on you. I am awake before dawn most days during the winter months. All the windows are dark when I peer out to see if there is any sign of light yet. Sometimes I can not be quite sure. I stare into the darkness trying to decide if it is lighter than it was before. Frequently the answer is “No.” But I do not have time to stand at the window watching for the first signs of daylight. There are things that I must do. Children must be awakened, breakfast must be served. The next time I look out the window I can see that the world outside is lighter, dawn has arrived and I can see clearly.

This has been my experience over the past few days. Everything felt dark. I could not see my way clear to manage everything that was in front of me. Life felt like an unending stream of dirty dishes, important decisions to get right, dirty laundry, children to soothe, bathrooms to scrub, and closets to organize. All those spaces of time which I’d anticipated had filled up with mundane tasks. But I worked onward despite the bleakness. Then yesterday I looked around me and realized that dawn had arrived while I was busy. Things are better. The kids have begun to settle in. They don’t come crashing through the door all needing my immediate attention. The organization and scrubbing are starting to catch up with the accumulated mess. And best of all, I got out of my house to converse with wonderful people. Twice. Dawn has arrived.

The shiny newness of the new school year has worn off, but things have not yet had time to become habit. This means effort without the added energy of excitement to carry us through. At least that is how Kiki and I feel. Link, Gleek, and Patch are all still pretty cheerful about heading off to school. In related news, all of the things I’ve been spending time on lately (kids & house mostly) are really important, but lacking in short-term rewards. I think things will feel better tomorrow when I complete some of the organization projects. Right now everything is in a state where it is messier than it was before I started working on it. In fact that is true of the school year and helping the kids too. It is all pulled apart and taking up three times the amount of space than it should. I just need to remember that I’ll get it all put back together and everything will fit again.

When I am stressed it helps me to write all the thoughts down. I pin all the things down with words and give them shape. Once I know what the shapes are, I can begin to see how all of it will fit.

Kiki:
Discussions about friends/school/emotions
Company at 6:15 am when she is up before anyone else
Nudging to remind her that homework should be on her schedule
Occasional check-ups on the status of her grades with accompanying consequences/assistance if they are below B level

Link:
Research and consultation to select a different medication for him
Consultation with his teachers at school to make sure everyone is working together for him
A twelfth birthday party
Extra hugs and snuggles
Quiet space where he can talk about the thoughts that are in his head
Praise when he steps up and takes responsibility

Gleek:
Extra effort and patience to steer her actions without scolding
Extra help to find constructive things to do when she is bored
Requiring her to slow down and have some quiet time when she needs it but doesn’t want it (probably daily after school)
Time set aside where the two of us can talk about the thoughts and feelings in her head so she can feel less emotionally tangled
A new lamp for her bed so she can turn it off by herself when reading time is over
Help finding ways to let her be in control of as many things as possible so she’ll be more willing to follow along in other areas

Patch:
10-15 minutes each bedtime where I just listen while he talks about whatever is in his head
Help managing his friendships so no feelings get hurt
Daily reading practice even if he doesn’t want it
Adjust meals so that he is more likely to enjoy eating dinner
Hugs and snuggles
A drink pouch in his backpack every day so that he has something to drink at lunch time when the other kids are having chocolate milk

All of the above:
More emphasis on personal hygiene, particularly teeth
A cleaner house so that we all have pleasant spaces in which to manage everything else

It looks like my major job this Fall is to use the six hours while they’re at school to clear the decks of everything else so that I am completely available when they come home. I think a lot of this will settle out once we hit our stride with the school year, but I need to be prepared for a long haul if necessary.