Hope for a Greener Planet

Duncan:  "Mama, can you pack one of our napkins in my lunch?"

Me:  "Why?"

Duncan:  "Because at school we only have paper napkins, and they are wrecking the planet."

Bless him.  I love these tiny pieces of proof that the way we are living our life is having a meaningful effect on my child.  

Secret Agent Man

Recently, I read somewhere that children with active imaginations tend to be very bright. This is good news as I was informed this morning that my son is a secret agent, and he parks his ghost car under our basement.

You Get What You Get: A Parable in Three Acts

Act I:

When Duncan was three, I picked him up from daycare on his last day before summer vacation. It was unseasonably warm, and the teachers were herding the children outside with a cache of popsicles. Since Duncan was obviously excited, I sat down so he could stay and enjoy his popsicle. As the children lined up to receive their icy treats, one of the teachers reminded them "You get what you get so don't get upset." I've since figured out that this might be a common mantra among those who deal with the under 5 set, but I had never heard it before. Over the next several weeks, it came up a few times in our house. Sometimes, Duncan whined about something, and I replied "You get what you get so don't get upset." Sometimes, an adult harmlessly complained, and Duncan chimed in with his reminder. For a few nights, it was a fun bath game. We took turns:  one of us stated our disappointment while the other reminded us to be thankful for what we had. "Aw. I wanted chocolate ice cream, but I got this broccoli."  "You get what you get so don't get upset."

Act II:

Last Christmas, I worked extra hard to be Martha Stewart. Well, I would never really want to BE Martha, but you know. Everywhere you look, television, magazines, and movies tell you that that's what you should be, what you should want. I was racing around trying to finish shopping, wrapping, baking, and decorating while simultaneously trying to provide memorable holiday experiences for my child. We cut down a tree, went to a tree festival, baked cookies together, and wrote a letter to Santa. Sometimes, it was fun, and sometimes it was disappointing. I had ideas of what constituted a memorable Christmas, but they didn't necessarily match Duncan's definition of a good time. On Christmas Eve, we let him open a few gifts from us so that he wouldn't be too overwhelmed on Christmas morning. My little bookworm opened his first package, a book by one of his favorite authors, and exclaimed with obvious disappointment, "A BOOK?!!!," while he tossed the gift across the floor. It was an uncomfortable moment, but we all pulled it together and enjoyed the rest of Christmas eve and Christmas morning.

(It is a good time to mention that Duncan is usually charming and well mannered but had a bad case of the terrible 3's. In addition, he was on his way to being expelled from preschool. As it turns out, he is well on his way to an AD/HD diagnosis, having missed the pediatrician's criteria by one question on the parent surveys. He is easily overwhelmed by sensory stimuli and has an attention span of approximately one nanosecond.)

The next day we went to my parents' house for Christmas. With two children and six adults and a crowded living room full of gifts, Duncan wasn't interested opening anything. He shut down. He opened a few gifts and then glazed over. We tried to engage him in his gifts, but he would have none of it. Finally, Jamie took Duncan into the next room, where it was quieter, and they played with various construction toys while everyone else opened presents. Slowly, over the course of the day (and maybe into the next day if I remember correctly), Duncan opened the rest of his gifts, with no audience and little fanfare. I was heartbroken. I didn't know what was wrong with my child, but all I wanted was for him to have a happy Christmas. I felt like a terrible mother because my child was so distraught about Christmas and a terrible daughter because I couldn't give my parents the enjoyment of watching their grandchild open Christmas presents. It was a difficult couple of days. 

As we were driving home, it hit me, like the proverbial ton of bricks. You get what you get so don't get upset. I didn't have the picture perfect Christmas, but we had some good times. I couldn't make it work for the grandparents, but Duncan was not unhappy. Once he was removed from the noise, and the people, and the "stuff" that left him feeling so overwhelmed, he actually played happily. He had a good time, and isn't that what Christmas is all about, Charlie Brown? It was Christmas, and he was happy. That was more than enough.

Act III:

The tendency to Martha-ize Christmas is strong in me. I LIKE the baking and the projects and the shopping and making crafts with Duncan and watching his eyes light up when he watches a video from Santa. I continue to build expectations of what the holiday SHOULD be, but I am working hard to fight them. I realize that I can't craft the perfect holiday moment any more than I can make a 4 year old sit still when there is ice cream in the room. As we pitch ourselves forward, full throttle, into the holiday season, I need to live in the moment. When the good ones happen, like today when we watched Duncan's personalized video from Santa, I have to burn them into my memory. When he's not excited about something I expected him to enjoy, I have to let it go and move on. The holiday is not about my expectations. It's about enjoying family time. Duncan is who he is, and we love him. You get what you get so don't get upset; all that matters is for me to hold him, and love him, and thank the world for bringing this perfect comet of energy into my life.

Similes for Four

Jamie (at dinner):  "Why are you giving Mama the mad eye?"

Duncan:  "Because she just keeps talking and talking."

Theresa:  "Is that why you're cranky?  Was there too much talking at school today?"

Duncan:  "It was like the Bronx Zoo!"

Bag Lady

Many CSA (i.e., Community Supported Agriculture) farms package their shareholders' weekly harvests nicely in bags and boxes. Our CSA is not among them. I love our farm, but it has a very limited staff, and members are expected to bag their own weekly shares according to posted signs that specify the quantity of each item. I don't really mind that they ask me to bring my own bags. Reusing bags is the environmentally friendly thing to do. Last year, I bought those plastic grocery bags available at the store that are supposed to increase the life of your produce, but this year, I couldn't bring myself to pay for plastic bags. I have yet to find a fabric grocery bag that I like. Furthermore, if you're already an environmentally friendly person who takes her own reusable bags to the grocery store, you don't even have a good stash of plastic grocery store bags to use. What's a green feelin', bag reusin', CSA belongin' member to do?

I had to have something. Some items, like a head of cabbage or a bunch of beets, can go without bags, but two pounds of carrots, one and a half pounds of salad greens, and two pounds of carrots need to be contained.  One week, out of sheer desperation, I saved our bread bag. The next thing I knew, I was saving the bread bags, used Ziploc bags, the zip top miniature carrot bags from the grocery store, the produce bags from the store, the miniature bagel bags, and those little net bags the cherry tomatoes come in. I felt a little batty, just a little bit like I should be a single mother to 57 cats. On the other hand, I also felt a little giddy.  FREE BAGS!  FREE BAGS THAT WERE GETTING A NEW LIFE BEFORE GOING TO THE LANDFILL!  FREE BAGS THAT WERE BEING FILLED WITH ORGANIC, LOCALLY GROWN PRODUCE AND REUSED A COUPLE OF TIMES BEFORE BEING RETIRED! Guess what? I don't care if I'm a little quirky; you all thought I was nuts when I gave up paper towels. You can admit it. But I cut out paper towels, napkins, and paper plates and improved my paper recycling habits, and I'm pretty sure I've saved a tree by now.  I rinse out those plastic bags, dry them on the paper towel rack, and the stuff them into a grocery bag to take to the farm next summer.

If you think I'm a little loony, walk into your kitchen and count all the things that are packaged in potentially reusable plastic bags. Then picture a big pile of those trash bags in your front lawn. It's ugly, isn't it. Don't you either want to get rid of them altogether or at least breathe a little extra life into them? If I use each of those bags twice, I reduce the pile of plastic in my virtual front yard. Think about it.

From the Mouths of Babes

From Duncan about our upcoming visit from Paul: "After he's gone can we start messing up the house again?"

Rituals

I have read a lot about the importance of building rituals into the lives of children, and of course I give it a lot of thought in my down time and think about how we might do it in our house, but I never act on any of my thoughts.

A few weeks ago, Duncan asked me what was for dinner, and I answered "Grilled cheese and soup."  "YES!" he exclaimed.  I asked him why grilled cheese and soup were so exciting. We all have our favorite meals, but no one had ever discussed this one. "That means tomorrow is pizza day, and then it's the weekend."

Several years ago, probably before Duncan was born, we used to have grilled cheese and soup on Thursdays because I had a meeting and got home late from work. It was a meal we could throw on the table quickly and not have to think much about. I resurrected it recently as a staple; even though I don't currently have any late meetings, we're all pretty wiped out by Thursday, and this meal fits the bill. I didn't really think much about it. I felt like it was a cop out to put it on the menu each week, actually, but it was working. Now, when I put grilled cheese on the menu, I realize it has become an important ritual for all of us that helps bridge the time between Wednesday and the weekend, and helps Duncan process the path of days through the week. Without any of us thinking it, grilled cheese became a ritual.

And so I head off home to heat up the carrot soup (that he still doesn't know has carrots in it - "I don't LIKE cooked carrots!", toast some cheese, and ponder the wisdom of my 4 year old.