Sunday nights are when Darrel and I sit down to compare calendars. This was an essential act back when we shared a vehicle; it's still an important time to clarify expectations, coordinate schedules, and act preemptively to help our calendars be reflections of our values. Unfortunately, the combination of looking back over the weekend (and all the things I wanted to do but didn't) and looking forward to a week too full to manage makes me feel overwhelmed and depressed, and I usually go to bed grouchy on Sunday nights.
Thankfully, tonight is different, partly because tomorrow is a "holiday." DJ is off school; Darrel has to go to work as usual, so I've already abandonend any hopes of getting things done tomorrow, and will be instead satisfied if I make it through the day without yelling at the kids. (sidenote: at times recently I have seriously contemplated adjusting my parenting style so that every time my child says "NO!" they get slapped upside the head. I've been preparing my children for a world of reason, negotiation, logic, discussion--the world as I hope it is. But what if the world is not like that? Perhaps blind obedience would equip them better, and make my life a little less challenging.)
There are also a number of fun things coming up this week. Call me irresponsible if you want, but I am skipping out not once but twice during the first week of harvest. Tuesday night Darrel and I are going to a B&B near York to celebrate our 13th anniversary. Saturday is DJ's birthday, and we're heading down to the Outer Banks for a quick rondevouz with my dad and his family at his beach house. It's good to have things to look forward to!
It's also been a fun weekend--a wonderful time Friday night at the PASA dinner (thanks Patrick and Helena!), a fun picnic with my dad, grandfather, and two of my dad's siblings on Saturday, and a delightful bike ride to Artsfest today. I even got a nap--this morning I was in the nursery, and dozed off. Obviously, I wasn't watching anybody else's children.
Our family gets looks when we go out together on our bikes (at least in this neighborhood)--me pulling Marina in the bike trailer, Darrel pulling DJ with the tagalong. We're planning to do the Capital Area Greenbelt Association Tour De Belt on June 7, so we officially started training on Wednesday. The Tour de Belt is 20 miles; so far I've ridden 4. Tender tailbones, here I come!
I've been thinking some about family dynamics in urban settings, or more specifically, in Allison Hill. I'm looking for resources to give me insight into the culture(s) of poverty and the parenting patterns that are associated. Why do parents make the choices they do? Why are students doing so poorly in schools? What are the values that families hold, and how are they transmitted? If you have any books to suggest, let me know. Clearly the best way to gain this sort of insight is through personal relationship, but that seems unlikely for a variety of reasons.
On a somewhat random, somewhat related note, I've started following a blog of someone I never met. I forgot to mention that in my list of rules--I generally only read blogs of people I know. Anyway, it's a short term commitment for me. http://onfoodstamps.blogspot.com/ is the account of a woman's experiment feeding herself local, organic, vegan food on $35/week (the average amount of food stamp allotment in her state of California). It's intriguing and insightful, though it sometimes seems like she doesn't quite get it. One post described how stressed she was because food preparation was taking so much time--she was spending 20 minutes peeling carrots. In the next blog, she talked about working out at the gym for 2 1/2 hours one evening. It renews my commitment to make Joshua Farm affordable, though I am having a hard time making space in my schedule to do the market analysis, surveying, and outreach to the low income populations in this neighborhood. I'll put that on the list of things to do next week.
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Weekend's end
When Darrel told me he would have to work Sunday evening from 9-11 p.m., I thought, great—time to blog! When I sat down at the computer for my blogging appointment, I checked the weather—low tonight of 37. Out to the field to cover up baby pepper plants. I guess one of the advantages of farming in the city is the illumination from streetlights for late night work--this is the fourth night this week I’ve been out until 9 or later. Don’t ask me if farming is fun right now. I’m tired, I woke up grouchy and irritable, and even though I had a nap today and 2 hours of solitude this evening, I’m still longing for time away, alone. How many months until Marina’s in preschool? I don’t like living in a state of constant stress, I don’t like looking forward to the future as a way to escape the present, I don’t like myself when I’m crabby and short tempered. I remember telling myself that one of my main reasons for choosing to be a parent was so my heart could grow, so my capacity for love could be expanded. Similarly, a secondary justification for farming was that I would learn to live with less need for control, to accept my limitations and be at peace with the way things are. It hasn’t happened yet. But now it’s time to sleep.
Leaving Low Income
It’s official. Darrel got a promotion (to Director of Social Services) and a raise. We can no longer be classified as low income, and I’m grieving the loss of that designation. Yes, you heard me right: I liked being able fit into the low income category.
It’s hard to explain why. Maybe it was because it was an attribute I could share with my neighbors, something in common with a frightening high percentage of Harrisburgers. Even though I was so different in so many ways (I’m married, have a college degree, have traveled abroad, have sufficient health insurance, I’m white, I didn’t have children until I was 27), I could fool myself into believing that having the label “low income” would give me an “in.” I could understand, or at least appreciate, how difficult life is for many. This is pure falsehood, of course. We did qualify for LIHEAP, and free CHIP, and free tax preparation, but we’ve always had enough money to pay our credit card bill off every month, enough money to budget at least one meal out each month, enough money to live without fear of the roof leaking, the car dying, the cupboards getting bare. And we’ve always had a safety net of friends and family who would lend or give us money if push came to shove. But even if we weren’t living on the edge, I could see it in the distance, and see how closely people lived on it.
Being low income brought out both the sympathetic and judgmental parts of me. I spent a lot of time pondering, How do some people live with less money, and what do some people do with more? We certainly weren’t living in poverty, which is an altogether different situation (the 2008 federal poverty guideline was $21,200 for a family of four, which translates into take home pay of $10.19/hour). How could it be that we were living a comfortable low income existence? What would an uncomfortable low income existence look like? How could people even survive on a job making $10/hour, or $8/hour? We have pretty frugal lives—what could possibly be cut out?
Then there was the judgmental side, the logic of which went like this: If we’re low income, and living comfortably, lacking nothing, then what in the world are people who make more money than us doing with all that cash? What frivolous products are they indulging in, what wasteful pastimes, what pitiful purchases are they making?
In college, I was introduced to the inequities of the tithe. If ten percent is what’s asked of a person making $30,000, then that person gives $3,000 and keeps $27,000 to live on. If a person making $300,000 tithes ten percent, they’ve given a lot more ($30,000), but they also get to keep a lot more. The person making $300,000 has followed the letter of the law, but not the spirit, since the purpose of the tithe is not to pay a bill but to facilitate sharing of resources so that everyone has enough and the work of the church is supported. The graduated tithe concept proposes that as income grows, the percentage tithed should grow, too. So for example, someone making $60,000 could tithe 30% and still have $42,000 to live on; someone making $100,000 could tithe 50% and still have $50,000 to live on. I liked the graduated tithe idea as a college student with little income. Approaching middle class and middle age, it looks different.
I’d like to think that our living expenses could stay the same while our giving increases. I’d like to think that the “go ahead—indulge--you’ve earned it!” voice will be silenced, that I’ll exercise the same frugality, that even though my anxieties about money may be lightened, I’ll not distance myself from those who have less. Mostly, though, I hope that I can be grateful and generous. Would that be enough?
It’s hard to explain why. Maybe it was because it was an attribute I could share with my neighbors, something in common with a frightening high percentage of Harrisburgers. Even though I was so different in so many ways (I’m married, have a college degree, have traveled abroad, have sufficient health insurance, I’m white, I didn’t have children until I was 27), I could fool myself into believing that having the label “low income” would give me an “in.” I could understand, or at least appreciate, how difficult life is for many. This is pure falsehood, of course. We did qualify for LIHEAP, and free CHIP, and free tax preparation, but we’ve always had enough money to pay our credit card bill off every month, enough money to budget at least one meal out each month, enough money to live without fear of the roof leaking, the car dying, the cupboards getting bare. And we’ve always had a safety net of friends and family who would lend or give us money if push came to shove. But even if we weren’t living on the edge, I could see it in the distance, and see how closely people lived on it.
Being low income brought out both the sympathetic and judgmental parts of me. I spent a lot of time pondering, How do some people live with less money, and what do some people do with more? We certainly weren’t living in poverty, which is an altogether different situation (the 2008 federal poverty guideline was $21,200 for a family of four, which translates into take home pay of $10.19/hour). How could it be that we were living a comfortable low income existence? What would an uncomfortable low income existence look like? How could people even survive on a job making $10/hour, or $8/hour? We have pretty frugal lives—what could possibly be cut out?
Then there was the judgmental side, the logic of which went like this: If we’re low income, and living comfortably, lacking nothing, then what in the world are people who make more money than us doing with all that cash? What frivolous products are they indulging in, what wasteful pastimes, what pitiful purchases are they making?
In college, I was introduced to the inequities of the tithe. If ten percent is what’s asked of a person making $30,000, then that person gives $3,000 and keeps $27,000 to live on. If a person making $300,000 tithes ten percent, they’ve given a lot more ($30,000), but they also get to keep a lot more. The person making $300,000 has followed the letter of the law, but not the spirit, since the purpose of the tithe is not to pay a bill but to facilitate sharing of resources so that everyone has enough and the work of the church is supported. The graduated tithe concept proposes that as income grows, the percentage tithed should grow, too. So for example, someone making $60,000 could tithe 30% and still have $42,000 to live on; someone making $100,000 could tithe 50% and still have $50,000 to live on. I liked the graduated tithe idea as a college student with little income. Approaching middle class and middle age, it looks different.
I’d like to think that our living expenses could stay the same while our giving increases. I’d like to think that the “go ahead—indulge--you’ve earned it!” voice will be silenced, that I’ll exercise the same frugality, that even though my anxieties about money may be lightened, I’ll not distance myself from those who have less. Mostly, though, I hope that I can be grateful and generous. Would that be enough?
Random thoughts from May 6
It’s raining, again. I’m so glad I made mowing a priority during the brief bit of sunshine today.
Why do I feel like I need to reward myself when the children are quiet in bed after a long day? It’s good we don’t keep strong drink in the house. I could use some strong chocolate, though.
How do I respond to a woman who replied with interest to my ad for seed potatoes on Craigslist, but who was basically forbidden by her police officer husband to drive in our neighborhood?
I really like my system to ensure that I never run out of clean underwear. Used to be, all of my underwear was white, and if I got behind on white laundry, I’d be stuck. Then I bought some dark colored underwear, so now I’m only stuck if I’m behind on both dark and light laundry.
Why am I tackling the project of repainting my parents’ old bedroom set?
I have a dentist’s appointment next week. Better start flossing. Does anyone else see anything wrong with that statement?
Why do I feel like I need to reward myself when the children are quiet in bed after a long day? It’s good we don’t keep strong drink in the house. I could use some strong chocolate, though.
How do I respond to a woman who replied with interest to my ad for seed potatoes on Craigslist, but who was basically forbidden by her police officer husband to drive in our neighborhood?
I really like my system to ensure that I never run out of clean underwear. Used to be, all of my underwear was white, and if I got behind on white laundry, I’d be stuck. Then I bought some dark colored underwear, so now I’m only stuck if I’m behind on both dark and light laundry.
Why am I tackling the project of repainting my parents’ old bedroom set?
I have a dentist’s appointment next week. Better start flossing. Does anyone else see anything wrong with that statement?
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