Expanding My Horizons

Millie writes:

Yesterday was a banner occasion at our house – it was Jack’s 17^th birthday.  We celebrated with fried chicken and cake, movies and card games, Mochi Balls and lots of laughter.

Privately, Lance and I took a more solemn moment to observe a fact of significance only to us: It was the last “child’s” birthday party we would host for one of our own.

I’ve been noticing that a lot of the recent milestones in my life – at least as they relate to the “parenting” aspect of my life – are “lasts” rather than “firsts.”  The fledglings are trying their wings and will be making longer and longer flights until they’ve left the nest for good.

I’ve spent 26 years amassing wisdom about diapering, colic, schooling, last-minute Halloween costumes and the PTA, and I’m not about to leave that part of me completely behind.  Once a Mama, always a Mama is my motto.

Old tradition speaks of a three-faced goddess who shares the aspects of Maiden, Mother and Crone.  On one hand this division can be explained completely biologically: pre-menarche, fertile and post-menopausal; on the other it’s an emotional progression from girl to woman to – well, there is no other word for it but “crone!”

“Crone” has always been one of my least-favorite words.  Not only does it just sound ugly, it’s derived from the Old Northern French word “caroijne,” meaning “carrion.”  That’s right, gals!  Once we’re no longer in the Breeder category, we’re filed under “the decaying flesh of dead animals!”

Well, I’m taking “Crone” back. 

For one thing, now that someone who’s 50 can reasonably expect to live another 30 years, it’s ludicrous to consider the end of the child-rearing window the end of a woman’s vitality. 

For another, there are a lot of us out here.  I’m near the tag-end of the Baby Boomer generation and there are at least two generations of people before us who are nowhere near finished yet! 

There is no graduation ceremony for a Mom who’s done a good job – no gold watch, no processional, and no speeches.  As with so much else related to motherhood, the only thing people can tell you is that “you’ll know it when it happens.”  I’m not quite ready to join Mollie on the stand as a Mother Emeritus (I’ve got at least another year of hands-on work to do before Jack and Sassy graduate from high school), but I can tell that something’s happening.

I plan to document my journey into Cronehood.  The only thing I know for sure is that (like motherhood) it is not for the faint of heart – nor (me being me) will it be for the timid of ear.

Whether you’re a maiden, a mother or a sister-Crone, won’t you join me?

If we're going anyhow, we may as well have a few laughs along the way!

ANNOUNCING:  CRONES DOT COM 

Milestones

Millie writes:

Today is my last first day of school.

Oh, sure, there will be First Days during the college years, but those aren't the same somehow. For the last 22 years, each September there has been at least one child who has woken up early one morning soon after Labor Day, thinking, "It's the first day of school!" (with varying inflections depending upon the child).

22 years of new clothes from the skin out, carefully chosen weeks ago and laid out smooth the night before.

22 years of healthy breakfasts and First Day treats (a funky pen, silver pencils, puppy pocket calendars).

22 years of First Day photos, smiling faces rising higher each year against the panels of the door.

22 years of "It's time to go!"

22 years of "Travel as a set! See you after school! Have a great day!"

Half of those 22 years we've had one or more kids in high school; today our last two began their Senior Year. This morning was like 22 others, with oatmeal and holographic pencils, stiff new jeans and sharp new haircuts. In the photos, Jack's head was higher than the wreath on the door; Sassy actually smiled instead of sticking out her tongue.

Oh, sure, it's not over yet. There are 9 months still to enjoy - but (like being pregnant with your last child) this year's events carry the bittersweetness of The Last Time.

The last time we watch Grease with new high school seniors. (Hey, can't send a kid off to school without an earworm or two!) The last time I have to fill out pages and pages of take-home Back to School paperwork. The last time I'll be a member of a PTA. The last Prom, the last speech tournament, the last school concert. (Okay, I might not be too choked up about that final one.)

Oh, well. Sassy and Jack left the house this morning full of good cheer and hope, so I will do the same. I will enjoy my annual Switch the Summer Decor to Fall Decor sweep of the rooms, and make the last first after-school snack of the year. I'll air out the house and then close it up tight (it's supposed to reach nearly 100 degrees today). I'll try to remember just what it is I do with myself during the "normal" months.

I will do whatever it takes to get "Beauty School Dropout" out of my head.

Good luck, Class of 2012!

The REAL New Year

Millie writes:

To quote Jan Struther’s Mrs. Miniver, to my mind September “. . . is the real New Year. That laborious affair in January [is] nothing but a name.”

Going back to school is inextricably bound up with this month, even if we haven’t actually gone back to school for decades. September means a new start, another chance to get it right, to “do better.” September ushers in sweater weather, crisp mornings and trees robed in scarlets, oranges and golds to rival any fireworks display.

In September we’re ready to learn new things, and to see old things in new ways.

Take a moment, as this hectic month unfolds, to look at your family with fresh eyes. You are very familiar with the many ways in which you show your love to them – large or small, everything you do for your family is a mute testimonial to your affection.

How long has it been since you noticed the many unspoken ways in which they show their love for you?

“I love you” can be said in a lot of different ways:

The son who puts “your” cup in the front of the dishwasher when he loads it each night, so your groping hand can find it easily at 6 a.m.;

The daughter who sends you a quick text to let you know she’s arrived at her destination, even though you argued before she left;

The son who tucks you into bed when you’re feeling sickly, complete with a story and a song;

The daughter who gives you beautiful jewelry or art supplies on every occasion, because she recognizes a kindred spirit - even though all she’s ever seen you do is housework, errands and Mom-stuff;

The husband who, knowing you’re on a diet, arranges with a local McDonald’s to make an Atkins-friendly Quarter-Pounder with Cheese for you on Date Night.

A family is a group of people who live together in almost unremitting intimacy. Squabbles, hurt feelings and shouted orders are unavoidable in even the closest families. It’s a mistake to hold onto these hurt feelings; it’s a mistake to concentrate on the irritants rather than the delights. This month, try to notice the small, mute “I love yous” that come your way, and let the petty annoyances roll off your back.

If you can do this, September will not only be the start of a great New Year – it will be Thanksgiving!

Half a Dozen Odds and Ends

Maggie writes:

Here are just a few ways to "think outside the box." I hoped to think of more, but the baby is a Brain Vampire these days, and it is hard to be clever.

Pizza cutters are a more versatile than you may know! Don't tuck them away for the sole purpose of pizza duty. Break them out for halving just about any sort of sandwich, wraps or quesadillas! That's not all! Need to coin hot dogs or kielbasa sausages? Lay several down at once and zip on through the lot of 'em. It makes quick work of a potentially tedious task.

Get a small soap dispenser bottle, put white vinegar in it and set it by your kitchen sink. Use a squirt or two to get rid of onion and garlic smells as needed.

If you have a small child who loves small puzzles (no bigger than a pizza box), go to your local pizza place and ask for a few unused boxes. Keep all the puzzle pieces safe and sound with the work in progress.

Just got done finely grating an orange (or cheese, ginger, etc., etc...) and now you need to get everything out of the tiny holes of your grater? Take your handy dandy vegetable brush and go to town! Don't have one? Keep a spare (clean!) tooth brush handy to get into all those little nooks and crannies.

White boards aren't the only things you can use dry erase markers on! Go to your local dollar store and find posters that have been laminated (MUST be laminated!!). The ones I've seen are about the size of your standard freezer-on-top door. Stick it up there however you'd like it, and go to town with reminders, lists and doodles. My children adore the snot out of those markers, and if yours do, too, stock up at the dollar store while you're there.

Have you caught a cold and are hacking up a lung? A friend of mine told me about a whacky cure that really works! Slather Vapor Rub on the bottoms of your feet (or the sicko loved one's), put on a pair of socks and go to bed. It worked for my baby, and I've had relief from this method as well.

Well? What about you, loyal readers and fellow bloggers? Any crazy methods of Gettin' it Done that have worked for you? Do tell!

Millie chips in:

Oh, I might be able to think of a FEW:

If you use dryer sheets, use the spent sheet to clean the lint trap after each load. The fuzz will stick to the fibers and NOT to you.

Speaking of dryer sheets, use only a non-scented variety; use fragrance-free soap, as well. This serves two purposes: if someone with whom you regularly come in contact has asthma or allergies, you will not trigger an attack; and if not, the scent of your clothing will not clash with the scent of your chosen perfume.

Ditto deodorant. While we're on that subject, can we PLEASE agree that "Axe" smells like the smoky flatus of a thousand diseased yaks and somehow get that point across to the male population?

If you don't want to use harsh chemicals around kids and pets, try pouring boiling water directly onto dandelions and other weeds. That'll l'arn 'em.

Making cookies? Make twice as much and freeze half the dough for a day when you're not feeling quite as energetic.

If you can stand the look (some of us can't), let your child use a sleeping bag on top of the mattress rather than conventional linens. The kid will love it and this approach solves the "make your bed, dammit!" argument for good. Get one that's machine-washable; if your kid still wets the bed, just slide one of those big rubberized-flannel pads in under him and hope for the best.

It's too late to do it this year but next year, when you're planting those hanging baskets (we have such hope in our hearts when we're doing that, don't we?), slip a coffee filter into the bottom of the pot. This will not only keep the dirt from running out through the drain-holes, it will help hold the water in the pot just a teense longer - a big consideration considering how quickly pots and planters dry out when it's hot like it is now. I've even heard of people who slip half a sponge in the bottom of the plant, but I've never tried that one myself - have you?

Payback’s a – Well, You Know.

Millie writes:

I found out last week that I’m going to become a grandmother in March. Of course news like this calls for a lot of heavy thinking, and one thing I’m thinking about is – revenge!

C’mon, you know we all do it – entertain ourselves with thoughts of how we’ll “get even” with the rugrats someday, when they are the ones with the mortgages and the migraines and we are the ones with some time on our hands. Nothing wrong with these fantasies – whatever keeps you going through the Parenting Doldrums is fair game as long as it doesn’t hurt the kids or scare the livestock!

Impending grandparenthood reminded me that one of my longest-cherished schemes was to wait until I had grandchildren and then send them musical instruments. That will be especially rewarding in the case of this particular procreating pair, because the Daddy-to-Be was the member of our in-house basement band with a 400-watt guitar amp and an effects pedal. Grandkid #1 is going to be getting one of those poppers with a handle before s/he can even walk.

Other silent-yet-vengeful plots include:

“When you are an adult, I am going to come over to your house and pee all over your toilet lid.”

“When you have a baby, I will find out what time said baby goes to sleep, and I will arrange to phone you every night at five minutes past that time and wake the baby up.”

“Someday, when you have your own house, I am going to visit you and bring dirty clothes with me to throw on your floor.”

“Some day you’ll invite me to dinner and spend hours cooking a meal to impress me with your culinary skills. I will take one bite of it and then demand a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich.”

“I hope you have a kid someday who is JUST. LIKE. YOU.”

. . . Actually, that last one would be pretty sweet.

To Censor or Not to Censor: That is the Question

Millie writes:
One of the best things about Facebook and other social media is that it allows us to chat about interesting and controversial topics with people all over the world. (This is also one of the WORST things about Facebook and other social media, but that’s a different entry altogether.)

Last week my friend Beth posted a YouTube link to a video entitled, “Letter From Ex-Witch Regarding Harry Potter.” (The link is below, if you’re interested; like Beth, I recommend you mute the sound and just read the scrolled text; there’s just someone reading the words and her voice is rushed and distracting.) She wanted to know what other people thought about it, because her 12-year-old son is interested in reading the books and – since Beth is a Christian mother – she’s trying to make up her mind whether a series that features witchcraft will undermine the values that she and her husband are instilling in their children.

As you can imagine, her friends had strong opinions. Here’s what I wrote:

I usually stay out of discussions like this because most people are just looking for ammo to bolster the opinion they've already formed. Since I've read the Harry Potter series to all my kids once (and most of them re-read it on their own) and the Narnia series several times, obviously I don't feel either one of them is harmful to children. Where I think the trouble comes in is when someone decides, "Well, I can certainly understand metaphor, simile, fantasy and the difference between fact and fiction, but then most people aren't as intelligent and socially conscious as I. Why, what if someone plays a game of Dungeons and Dragons, for example, and suddenly they can't distinguish between their friendly mail carrier and an Orc? I think I read about that happening somewhere, sometime! This menace must be stopped! Think of the children!"

I don't think it is ever necessary to let someone else do all of one's thinking for one - not even (or maybe especially) in the case of one's children. Parents naturally want to protect their children from harm, but I don't think ideas or concepts are harmful in themselves. I think that by segregating some themes or concepts into a great "We Do Not Discuss It" pile, we not only confer upon those subjects the irresistible cachet of "forbidden knowledge" - we deprive ourselves of a natural springboard to discussing our own ideals and beliefs. Of course, it is possible to live in a manner that excludes all fiction or entertainment as lies and frivolity, and some extremist religious or political sects do just that. I don't think this approach armors children to live in today's world, but then - they're not my children, it's not my business.

In short, I don't think reading Harry Potter - or The Necronomicon, or Spell Casting for Dummies - will turn someone into a witch or a Satanist, any more than reading Arnold Schwarzenegger's biography will turn someone into a body-builder. Ideas and beliefs are not mental land-mines, quiescent until they're stepped on by the unwary and explode with soul-destroying reverberations. If a child understands poetic license - and they all do, otherwise every sponge in the U.S. would be wearing pants - they will know fiction for what it is. I think the important thing is that the child knows what his parents believe, and how the world fits into that viewpoint. "Of course we know there's no such thing as The Easter Bunny/ black magic/ talking trees, but it's fun to think about" seems a lot less damaging to me than "OMIGOD YOU READ A CHILDREN'S BOOK AND NOW YOU'LL BURN IN HELL." So many people don't give their kids credit for any sense, when most children have a pretty good grasp of what's real and what isn't even if it's not something tangible. If a person grows up to become a mass-murderer, there was a lot more going wrong in his life than his choice of childhood reading material.

This is what we think, the decisions we've made for our children.

What do you think? I’m really askin’.

No More Blues!

"Oh... just... put on a disposable," I said, feeling a twinge guilty (and, quite frankly, defeated) as the words crossed my lips. My son was asking whether any cloth "pullups" were ready for use at the end of a long day. I didn't get a chance to do the load of cloth diapers. Again. I had the Endless Laundry Blues, and was pretty tired of singing that tune.

So I decided to do something about it.

If I'd been thinking about blogging about this adventure, I would have taken more pictures. Alas, I was focused on the task at hand and had not an extra brain cell to spare on such trivial matters.

The Sock Basket

I'm sure everyone has some version of The Sock Basket. This is the container of your choice that has the singularly loathsome task of holding all the socks, an odd hat or mitten (even during the summer this year..) and perhaps a pair of underpants thrown in the mix as well. I dreaded TSB and hated when everyone ran out of socks and needed a new stash paired. And so it sat for a good long while (I can't recall a time when there wasn't a sock basket waiting to be paired in all my married life), mocking me in my feeble attempts at tackling that dreaded project.

Then I was struck by a marvelous realization: throw them away. Just... throw all the socks away, and start over! Now, my frugal brain quickly stepped in and said "How about you sit down, pair up a dozen socks per family member... and THEN throw the rest away?" A dozen seemed like a lot, but it was surprisingly easy to accomplish. The anticipation of an empty basket made the work quick. As I gathered up the large pile of remaining socks, I may have had a bit of a crazed grin on my face. I also may have done a bit of a jig coming away from throwing them out in the trash bin in the kitchen.

That was the first step in my laundry chore transformation. It was just the sort of psychological motivation I needed to keep at it.

The Clean Laundry Pile

Washing and drying the clothes is easy. I could do that all day. Folding, hanging up and distributing the clothes into piles is not so easy. Before the baby was born, we used the playpen to put all the clean clothes in. Have you seen play pens? They hold a huge amount of clean clothes, my friends, and that's just how I liked it. After the baby arrived and took over the clothes hamper.. er, play pen, I needed a new dumping ground. Well, she'd moved from her bassinet to the playpen... so I switched the two out and started dumping the clean clothes into the bassinet. It didn't hold as much, and the pile would start falling over, resulting in a need to clean dusty, walked on clothes that multiplied on the floor around that bassinet.

Every once in awhile, I'd gather up my reserves and tackle the Mountain and get it knocked out to a small mound. What a chore, letting it build up so much! I eventually abandoned the bassinet, took it down and put it away.

So the pile moved to the now empty Sock Basket. Oh that pile moved a few different times before I found a system that worked for me!

I decided what I needed was a staging area and a place to set my piles. So I set up a big folding table in my laundry room. I only technically had enough room for it, though could not open the dryer but a mere six inches or so and had to walk between the table and dryer sideways. I liked the concept, but the execution was sloppy, so I put that table away and purchased a smaller version of it. The little beauty fit exactly right in the little nook in front of my never-used back door. This was my staging area. I would transfer the clean clothe from the dryer, up onto the table. Along the wall opposite the dryer, I set up my rarely-used ironing board, which became my pile place. Most of the piles fit on the ironing board, and the top of the washing machine is a good surface for a few other piles.

Here, let me show you:

As you can see, the room isn't.. done. But disregard that and focus on what IS done! Okay, I've got all my hangers ready to go above the ironing board. The Sock Basket (will always have that name, despite not holding any more socks!) is on the table. I am trying very hard to keep the dryer top clutter-free. It has lasted a day thus far, yay!

Make it Beautiful

Please note the colorful prints I've stuck to the door. I spend a great deal of time in this room, and I want it to be a good time. So I am going to make it beautiful. I've got lots of fabric that I find lovely, and will be using liquid starch to stick to the walls.

That fabric covers up an old mildew stain (long since dead, but yells at me every time I go in there). I have more fabric, but must get more starch, as it likes to really soak it up. Great way to add color to a room without investing in permanent things like paint. In between the two cupboards above the washer and dryer, I would like to install a shelf. This shelf will hold Pretty Things and Good Smelling Things. It may even hold a fan, as it gets miserably hot in that room.

My point is, make your working space work for you. Make it a room you look forward to entering. The kids are constantly in and out of there, trotting off with a dishtowel to (re)fold and put away or taking their pile of clothes off to their room. I fully intend on making them a big part of the laundry system, once it is well established and my routine is better oiled. You may not cloth diaper, so that particular load isn't an issue. But we all wear clothes, and they don't wash themselves, or put themselves away. Now that I've got a system in place, I truly hope that I can stay on top of the laundry and that it won't be something I dread doing.

Do YOU have any laundry secrets or tips for staying on top of things?