The car of my dreams

I've been fantasizing recently about buying a diesel VW Beetle. It's a moderately irrational fantasy, given that A) we don't have a couple grand burning a hole in our pockets, and if we did, we should probably save it for a rainy day because we've had so much sunshine in our lives it seems that clouds should be gathering soon, and B) a two-door vehicle is completely impractical with small children. Still, every week or so I jump on craigslist to see what's out there. What's fueling this fantasy? Ha. no pun intended, but it's fuel (well, that, and the attractiveness of driving a vehicle that's described by some as "perky," a word that seems the antithesis of "minivan.") I watched a movie by that title last year and became convinced that biodiesel is the answer, at least to one of life's persistent questions--how to support a mobile society without being complicit in the global-warming, pollution-producing, war- justifying system of oil? Of course, I'm easily swayed by compelling arguments, and was ready to buy an electric car after seeing the movie Who Killed The Electric Car (except at that time there weren't any electric cars available because they were all dead, and now that they've been resurrected, they're way out of our price range). I hope no one makes a movie about natural gas cars, because then I'd have to rethink my position on the Marcellus Shale mess.

My fantasy has some merit. We prided ourselves on being a one car family for years, and only bought a second vehicle when we started the farm project. Darrel only uses the 1997 GMC Safari on rainy days and in super cold weather; other than that he bikes to work and the red van is dedicated to the farm. Three kids pushed us beyond the capacity of a sedan into a minivan, but I groan at the mileage we get with our kid carrier, a 2002 Honda Odyssey. A little, fuel efficient car for running errands while the kids are at school, going on solitary trips, driving individual kids to appointments, etc. would be perfect. What would be even better is if we could find someone to share it with. Any takers?

Gy;m reflections

I've been going to the gym for about two months now. Some random reflections:

I think that perhaps one of the essential life questions is not, "Who am I and what have I done?" but "Who am I and what have I done with what I've been given?"

I still think there should be some way to harness the energy of all those treadmills, ellipticals, and stair climbers.

I've been happy with the amount of ethnic diversity (though still moderate) I've seen at the gym. One of my concerns when joining was that I was supporting a white middle class establishment.

I've also been surprised by the number of senior citizens working out, though as Darrel points out, "if anyone has a right/reason to be at a gym, it's senior citizens."

Family harmony

New parents, learn from my mistake. Those nice CDs of lullabies, and later, the catchy children's songs? Don't let them into your house. Once your children hear them, they will settle for little else, and you will be stuck listening to the musical equivalent of "Fun with Dick and Jane" for the next 8 years of your life. The problem with catchy children's songs is that they're catchy, and you'll find yourself singing them at inopportune times.

But if my warning's come too late, then at least let me make some recommendations for your family's listening pleasure. In no particular order, the most bearable of the children's music genre that fills our soundwaves:

Let it Shine and Share This World by Jim Rule
God's Love is for Everybody and Can't Keep Quiet by Brian Moyer Suderman
Here Come the 123's by They Might Be Giants
Song of Wisdom from Old Turtle
If You're Not Going Far by Kentucky T Dutchersmith and the Rubber Band
Cada Nino/Every Child by Tish Hinojosa
To Such as These by Kim Thiessen for MCC
Water from Another Time by John McCutcheon

I dare say that if I were on a deserted island, or stuck in solitary confinement, it would be songs from these albums that would surface in my mind, not the hymns of old or the current trendy tunes. And perhaps it's not such a bad thing after all, to hear your kids belting out, "Love is better than the rest, it's better than success, and all that you possess!" (The Music Machine) or, "Alleluia, the great storm is over. Lift up your voice and sing!" (Water from Another Time). Just be warned that they may also remind you to "have patience, have patience, don't be in such a hurry."

Well, I didn't get what I wanted for my birthday*, but it was still a day full of blessings. DJ brought me breakfast in bed (after admonishing me to go back to sleep), Darrel baked up a storm in the kitchen, making French breakfast muffins, whole-wheat bread, AND pineapple upside down cake, Marina invented a new hand sign for "I love you," and Havah, though not her usual cheerful self, still laughed uproariously at the antics of her young friends. My life is full of life.

And yet, every year on my birthday, I think about planning a funeral service. I'm not fixated on my death, though I try to live moderately aware of the inevitability of it. A funeral is much like a wedding, except that you generally have 3-5 days to pull all the details together, instead of the more standard 6+ months of matrimonial planning. It seems to me that, in the event of my sudden demise, the knowledge that I have made some preparations would be comforting to those I have left behind, as well as helpful in a practical sort of way. On the other hand, I don't want to plan things out in too much detail, as there may be something theraputic for my family in the process of collaborating on the order of worship.

If I really wanted to be prepared, I would write something for my children to read. You can disagree, but I think the saddest death is one that leaves dependents. There is something terribly tragic about the death of a child, to be sure--a hole that can never be filled, the forever unanswered question of what fruit this life could have yielded, what shape it could have taken. I hold as my ideal those anabaptist martyrs who went to their deaths singing, and wonder what my children would hold on to if I were gone--what memories, what promises, what confidence, what lessons, what clarity of purpose?

Alas, like so many other things, thinking about something will have to suffice for actually doing it, as I have neither the time nor the strength to engage in that level of planning and reflection. I will, however, leave you with a song, which many days is the closest I come to a statement of faith. Like most songs, reading just the words is like trying to fly with one wing, but it will do for now.

Nothing is lost on the breath of God, nothing is lost forever;
God's breath is love, and that love will remain, holding the world forever.
No feather too light, no hair too fine, no flower too brief in its glory,
No drop in the ocean, no dust in the air, but is counted and told in God's story.

Nothing is lost to the eyes of God, nothing is lost forever.
God sees with love, and that love will remain, holding the world forever.
No journey too far, no distance too great, no valley of darkness too blinding;
No creature too humble, no child too small for God to be seeking and finding.

Nothing is lost to the heart of God, nothing is lost forever.
God's heart is love, and that love will remain, holding the world forever.
No impulse of love, no office of care, no moment of life in its fullness;
No beginning too late, no ending too soon, but is gathered and known in its goodness.

Text and music by Colin Gibson, 1996

*What I really wanted was to sleep! Until noon, preferably, but a good 12 hours (or even 8!) would have been great. Hopefully Pastor Woody didn't notice me dozing off during the sermon--no reflection on him, just severe sleep deprivation. Maybe next year I'll get my wish. :)

If the shoe fits

I currently own 16 pairs of shoes. I know this, because I just counted them. Among the more unique ones--tap shoes from my short-lived tap dancing experiement, snakeskin-trimmed sandals given to me in Nigeria 19 years ago, vegan Earth shoes, slippers given to me by my dear husband, one pair of waterproof wellingtons, and two pairs of shoes with cracked soles. And for the record, nothing even slightly resembling high heels.

I've been spending altogether too much time thinking about getting new shoes. On one hand, it's a perfectly reasonable desire. My main work shoes are wearing out and my feet are fatigued after a long day in the field. My sneakers are well past the 3-6 month lifespan recommended by fitness and podiatric professionals. My black shoes (the step up from sneakers, but appropriate with slacks) can only be worn in the absence of puddles, mud, or rain, since the cracked soles allow water to soak my socks from the bottom up.

From another perspective, 16 shoes is already a travesty. You can only wear one pair at a time, after all! Fashion rules notwithstanding, do I really need to own both black and brown casual shoes? Is comfort while working a nicety or a necessity?

And if I were going to purchase shoes, I'm faced with more quandries. My hard-to-fit feet make finding second hand shoes almost impossible, and even Gabes rarely has footwear in my size. If I buy new, should I go with USA made quality (at $179.99), durable but imported LL Bean ($49.99), local business clogs ($95.00), or cheap Chinese from Payless ($29.99)? Don't even get me started on children's shoes--Salvation Army is great if you can find the right pair, but if not, $16.99 for cheap Chinese is hard to pass up when you know the shoes will only last 6 months.

This desire to be a concientious consumer is a recurring theme in my life. I want to be mindful of how my choices affect the larger world, and I am inspired by those who are able to integrate their values more seamlessly and with less inconsistencies than I. I'm also aware that spending so much time thinking about the implications of living simply may be a form of idolatry, or at the least, a waste of mental energy. So for now, enough. But tomorrow I might go shopping.

things that made me smile

Conversation with DJ:
DJ: Mom, I think I want to take piano lessons.
Me: um...well, that might be a possibility.
DJ: I'm going to ask Ms. Kerry if she can be my piano teacher. She has a piano in her house.
Me: I don't know if she gives piano lessons, but you can ask her.
DJ: But I'll do homework and violin before computer, and piano after, because it's too much to do three things before computer.
Me: Or maybe we could just save computer for the weekends. Maybe you could just play computer on Saturday. We only go to church one day a week; you could just play computer one day a week.
DJ: Yeah, that would save energy, too!

Marina's drawings of the family, complete with labels. I'm "Mam" and I have a ponytail.

Havah's babbling.

Saturday, 10:15 a.m. DJ returns from basketball. "Mom, we have to turn the radio on at 11:00 so we can listen to Wait Wait Don't Tell Me!"

Resistance Training or Resisting Training?

I mentioned in a recent post that I have joined a gym, something I didn't see myself doing. Why should I pay money to sweat? It would be much better to exercise outside, even better to live a life so full of physical activity that I don't need to set aside additional time for exercise. I know you would think that farmers are plenty active, except that a) it's the middle of winter, b) I have a 7 month old, and c) because of said 7 month old, my role in the farm is often limited to what I can do while carrying Havah.

I wasn't planning to join a gym because people who go to gyms either hate their bodies or love them too much, and I don't think either extreme is healthy. I've long prided myself on having a good attitude about my body, which is more countercultural than I think it should be. Have you ever seen a women's magazine that doesn't have at least one article about losing weight or making your stomach flatter? We don't own a scale, and my main measure of health is whether my clothes fit and whether I can play tag with my kids. I acknowledge the fact that I've been blessed with good genes and grew up with moderately healthy eating habits has made it easier for me than for many.

Except that at a recent medical checkup, my doctor asked out of the blue, "How much more weight are you planning to lose?" I replied, jokingly, "Well, it would be nice to lose 15 pounds, but for now my appetite is my master." Later, the truth of this became more apparent. I eat, a lot. And I spend a lot of time thinking about food (but not enough about what to cook for dinner). I'll even go somewhere because they have free food, a practice that should have ended in college. Working from home means that I pass through the kitchen dozens of time each day, and often, some version of this internal conversation happens: kirsten, you don't need anything to eat right now. You just had breakfast. But I need to keep my blood sugar levels steady. How about some peanuts and chocolate chips? You don't need all those calories. Are you saying that I can't love myself if I gain weight? Don't be so legalistic. What about showing grace to myself? munch munch. Whoever said that there is a fine line between boredom and hunger was very wise. Food is a distraction, a comfort, a reward. So I shouldn't be surprised that I've put on 25 lbs since college. I waver in whether this is a problem or not. How much attention should I pay to the scale? What's the balance between "your body is the temple of the Holy Spirit" and "learn from the lilies of the field"?

I can have only one master, and I don't want it to be my appetite. The fruit of the spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self control. Against these things there is no law. (And I wish you could hear the soundtrack that plays in my head with those verses!)

So, I've joined a gym, with a goal of working out 4 days a week (for the next two months, at least--until things get busy at the farm) and trying to practice self control when it comes to food. I'm still uneasy with the whole thing, and the irony of paying $30 a month to lose weight while others in the world are starving is not lost on me. I haven't decided whether losing weight really is my goal. If I don't say that it is, then I can't fail, right? :) I know that health should be my goal, but what is that, for me?

The daily challenge at the gym is what to do while I'm exercising. Maybe it's the staying in one place thing, but I can't get away from the feeling that I'm wasting my time. I try to pray, but I can hardly sustain prayer alone in my room, much less in a public place with lots of distractions. The exercise bike is the only thing I can do while reading. I bought an mp3 player (such a slippery slope, this gym thing!) so I could listen to music or news or something informative, but I haven't figured out how to put anything on the mp3 player, and even if I did, I wouldn't know what to download. I keep thinking that all these treadmills and bikes and stairclimbers could actually generate electricity--don't you think there's a niche out there for a green gym like that?

The downward spiral

Tough morning. I believed DJ when he said he wouldn't be sad when I left if I came on only part of his field trip, so I stopped in at the Whitaker Center, anticipating that I could tag along with the group, sit with them while they ate lunch, etc. (We have a membership, so I get in free). Unfortunately, by the time I got there, they had already finished lunch, were moving on from the exhibits to the IMAX, which I wasn't prepared to stay for, having brought neither my free IMAX pass nor put enough money in the parking meter. (It was also immediately apparent when I arrived that additional, uninvited chaperones were not within the museum coordinator's plans). DJ got sad, I tried to leave, he followed me, I got angry and embarrassed, he begged to come home with me, I wavered briefly, then straightened and left. Completely disgruntled, I held it together until I passed the Commonwealth Connections cyberschool bus parked outside the Whitaker Center. The spiral quickened, going somethign like this. [Be warned, what follows is neither rational nor coherent, but that's the way the spiral works.]

He's clearly not having a good time at school. He feels like a social outcast, and told me just the other day that he only has one friend--all the other kids "hate" him and are mean to him. (He later amended that statement to say that 3 kids hate him and are mean to him, the others just don't want to be his friend.) He's not advancing as quickly/far as I think I could, not enthusiasitc about learning. And he wants to be at home (at least at this minute). What's so wrong with that? He often asks if I could sleep in his bed (or he in mine)--attachment parenting would say he needs more time with his mom, that if I don't provide that now, he'll look for love in the wrong ways/places in the future. He would love to be homeschooled or cyberschooled (I don't think he knows the latter exists--we've tried to keep him in the dark about it, because of course he would be thrilled to find out that he could do school on the computer--what could be better?!). But I can't homeschool--I'm not a teacher, I have two other kids, and I have a farm to run. And what's the point of living in the city if you pull back from all the places where you could interact with people different from you? Of course, I'm not doing very much of that now, anyway. We could do cyberschool him (I'm more comfortable with computer learning in grades 3-8 for some reason), but then Marina would lose her automatic placement to Sylvan Heights, and I certainly can't teach her how to read and she's too young for cyberschool. It could give me more flexibility--we could do violin lessons during the day, and not rush around in the evenings so much. The kids could be at home in the morning and go to afterschool programs while I work on the farm, and do summer camps. But how in the world would I juggle all that and the farm and still put dinner on the table every night?? But if I were a really good mother, I'd put my desires aside and focus on my kids. Someone else can do the farm; I'm the only mother for my kids. And this is the wall I keep running into, the pit I keep falling into, the place I get stuck: that I don't know what's best for my family or how to balance my ideals with the constraints of reality. I can't figure out why this triggers such intense feelings of sadness and hopelessness in me.

But I can't spend any more time thinking about it--Marina's been playing pokemon for more than an hour. On the bright side, Havah started saying "ma ma" yesterday, and though I know it's a sound not a title, I still smile to hear it.

Detritus

Havah spends part of every day (usually while I'm making supper) in this walker. She seems to like the view from there. Every time she uses it, I think of my neighbor, the one whose children helped themselves to toys and tools from our backyard, whose dog had neither collar nor license, who woke us at 2 a.m. with arguing and drama, whose trash littered the sidewalk. This neighbor was the one other neighbors complained about, and when she and her brood moved, the neighborhood seemed calmer and more dignified.

When she moved, however, she left a lot of stuff behind--dressers, beds, clothes, toys, entertainment center, yes, even a baby walker. The pile in the backyard grew as the landlord cleaned out the house, ebbed as folks helped themselves, and ultimately disappeared when the trash truck with the claw hauled it all away to the incinerator. It seems to happen frequently around here, this leaving behind of the accoutrements of home life. People move for various reasons--rent's too high, landlord's a jerk, can't make the payment on the utility bill, boyfriend got pushy. Maybe they have to move in with family, or can't fit stuff into their car, or maybe they have to live out of their car, or maybe the particleboard furniture wouldn't survive a move. Piles by the sidewalk are a common sight.

My middle class sensibilities cry out in protest against the waste. Plan ahead! Rent a storage unit--you'll need to buy all this stuff again anyway! At least donate it to Goodwill. But as I sit here, surrounded by shelves full of books I probably won't read again, momentos of places and people of the past, toys gathering dust, I am humbled by my nameless neighbor. Stuff can stabilize our lives into stagnation, and there is a certain freedom, however wasteful it may seem to those with the goods, in moving on and cutting loose. After all, it's just stuff, and ultimately, you can't take it with you.

The List Thus Far

I mentioned on facebook recently that I need to find a name for the list of things I never thought I'd do, but which I now find myself doing. In no particular order, here it is, thus far:
1. Driving a minivan (the direct result of having a third child--there just aren't many options for vehicles in which three car seats fit in the rear seat)
2. Feeding formula to my 6 month old (though it's just a tablespoon of the powdered stuff mixed in with rice cereal). Since Havah doesn't (or at least, hasn't yet) taken a bottle, I'm not in the habit of pumping, and couldn't really get motivated to start just so I could have 1 oz. of milk to add to her cereal, most of which goes down the drain every day.
3. Going to McDonald's for the express purpose of getting the current Happy Meal toy.
4. Driving 45 minutes round trip 3 nights a week for one child's extracurricular activities. (violin in Grantham, basketball at West Shore E. Free, violin group lesson in Grantham)
5. Going mall walking
6. Joining a gym (and using a treadmill and doing Zumba and buying clothes just so I can sweat in them)
More to come, I'm sure.

Too long

You know it's been too long since you last blogged when. . .
You can't remember the password to your blog
You've had to change the calendar not once but twice
You've added another child to the family, and she's already 6 months old!

Well, to all of my faithful readers out there (Helena and Amanda, that is), be not dismayed. I'm going to try again. Of course, it's easy to get excited about blogging when it's January and there's snow on the ground and Havah's not mobile yet--as soon as any of those factors change, the blog may be abandoned again.

I think I initially envisioned this blog as a place where I could ponder some of life's mysteries and use writing to take a step back and sort things out. That would still be a lofty goal, but pondering takes time, and meanwhile, there are lots of random, unrelated events and thoughts that I want to make a note of, just to document that they existed. Such as--last night, DJ asked for seconds of curried lentils. !! And yesterday Marina got her first significant haircut (at her request). And why am I fantasizing about buying a red VW Beetle? This might turn into more of a family journal, with occasional op-ed pieces, but I'm finally ok with that. It's better to commemorate, however simply, the moment I'm in than to wax eloquent about something peripheral.