Mountain Mama

Wordless Wednesday--What we did for Earth Day 2008

 

Click here for more Wordless Wednesday participants.

Must Share

We're back, but before I post on our trip, I must share this video from a recent TED talk. Aren't these talks simply amazing? Insights from the greatest minds of our time.

This talk is by Harvard Neuroanatomist, Jill Bolte Taylor, about the insights gained from experiencing her own stroke at the height of her career. You may know about me already that I am fascinated with the human brain and how it enables the mind and how both connect to, educate, and learn from the body. If I were able to have seven lives and do anything, be anything, study anything I wanted, I would choose for at least one life to be a neuroscientist and to study the brain. In another life I would study the brain and language and the healing qualities of expression--the how and why. I love talking and hearing about the brain, especially when the talk turns to the mysterious nature of the brain and consciousness, that spark that makes us wholly human, sacred, and holy.

I think this talk is especially appropriate this weekend, as it relates to death and resurrection, in a sense.

Thanks to Lynn Jericho for helping me to discover it.

Child care--round two

A little while ago I wrote about our child care situation. Well...there's been a development. It seems that Owen's current preschool is closing. Yep: closing. The community college needs to reallocate the space for a project mandated by the state and for which the state has received a large grant, namely for something called Early College, in which high school students (freshman) are immersed in a college environment. Don't even get me started on that...

What it means, however, is that the daycare/preschool space is needed and so they're out. Twenty children. Nearly twenty families having to find new child care situations in a county that lacks many spaces in the first place.

The good news (if there is any) is that it won't be happening until August. And we planned to take Owen out in May for the summer anyway, starting both children somewhere in August. We had also hoped to find somewhere cheaper.

The bad news (for us personally) is that now we will be competing for space with those 19 other children whose families are going to be scrambling for options at the same time we are. In a county that has few options in the first place.

We'll be making calls soon, but I'm not sure it'll get us anywhere as we don't want/need to slots until August. I'm not sure anyone will be able to tell us now if they will have an opening in August. We could get on waiting lists but honestly, around here, things don't seem to be done that way. Everything is so much more informal. I'm not sure that if I called and got on a list somewhere, they would actually call me back when there is an opening or if they would give it to the person right in front of them.

Beyond our personal issues with it--there are teachers at that center who have worked there 14+ years. What will happen with their jobs? And what are other parents to do? That center is utilized by many students, as well as faculty. Quite a few of those students' child care costs are supplemented by state funds. What will happen to their supplements? Where will they turn for child care?

The whole situation just plain sucks. At least Owen only has one more year before she'll be in kindergarten. Of course, Barrett has four years before kindergarten...Augh!

Our child care dilemma

Last week MSN had this article on their Money page: The Child-Care Crisis. I found it interesting because we've been facing some decisions regarding child care lately and it was something I've been meaning to explore on this blog.

Here is our child care story:

When Owen was born, we were a two-income family living in Raleigh, NC, a good-sized city in the larger metropolitan area known locally as the Triangle (made up of Raleigh, Durham, and Chapel Hill, as well as a number of smaller towns absorbed by the rampant growth). This area is a large technology area, with a specific concentration of large companies in an area between Durham and Raleigh known as Research Triangle Park. Here Paul worked as a design engineer for a telecommunications company, making good money with good benefits (generous vacation time, good health insurance, 401k, and the like). I was working for a nonprofit organization that was growing and busy and paid fairly well for the field. We had our house mortgage but no other debt. Our cars were paid off, our educations paid off. Every month we spent what we wanted on our credit cards and paid them off at the end of the month--using them as true charge cards.

Then Owen came along. I had twelve weeks of maternity leave (unpaid) and then had to go back to work. So I began searching for daycare. In Raleigh, this was easy--there are daycare centers on every corner and multiple branches of every major child care organization to choose from. I chose a Bright Horizons center near our home. It cost slightly more than our mortgage. Oh well, we thought, that's the price of good child care. Plus, we could afford it.

Even when Paul became ill and we had to live on his disability for a while, we kept Owen at Bright Horizons. Mom came to stay with us to help us in the evenings and weekends since, at the time, my job required me to have 24-hour on-call days four-five days a week. I kept Owen at Bright Horizons because 1) I thought the social interaction of the day care setting was good for her; 2) I thought that the folks at Bright Horizons would do things with her to stimulate her development that I would not know to do or know how to do; and 3) I did not want to impose on my mom and ask her to keep Owen (who was six months old at the beginning of the ordeal) full-time.

Then we made our choice to cut our income significantly and move to Western North Carolina, to a much smaller town. (Those of you who have been reading this blog for a while know the whole story.) I had also been thinking for a while about trying to stay home with Owen. I was a bit disillusioned with Bright Horizons--the size, the number of kids, the lack of interest on the part of some teachers.

So, in July of 2005, I quit my job, took Owen out of daycare, and my mom came home. In August of that same year, Paul moved to WNC and began his new job teaching. He lived with my Dad and Owen and I stayed in Raleigh trying to sell our house. By Fall, Paul was working hard to make his way in a new field, I was going stir crazy alone 24-7 with a toddler, the house wasn't selling, pressure was building, and we were arguing every time we saw each other.

So Paul found a rental for us and we moved, so that we could be together. Dad got me an interview with the community college; they were willing to give me a try part-time starting in January, 2006; and by-the-way there happened to be a day care center at the college. And they had an opening for Owen. And the cost was half what we were paying in Raleigh.

Of course, our income was also half what it was in Raleigh.

Still, all was well, and things were working out. So we decided to try for another baby.

We finally sold our house, found a new one, and discovered we were pregnant the same day we moved in. Being part-time, my job was flexible and I found I could pick up more classes earlier in the pregnancy so that I could teach fewer classes later in the pregnancy. Mom was an hour away in case Owen needed to stay home from school for any reason. My dad, too, was available to help with child care and transportation on snow days or sick days or just because.

Again, all was well. And then...

I started looking into options for child care for the baby. The day care center at the community college only takes children over 1 year old. Same with the child care lab at the University where Paul teaches. Same with every child care center run by the local child care commission, which runs all of the five-star facilities. I started calling home-based child care referred by the state licensing agency. Most sort of sniffed as if I should be crazy to even ask about an opening. As my pregnancy progressed, I was coming up with nothing.

Then came my mom in shining armor upon her white horse. She offered take care of the baby for a few months. After all, Barrett was due in the mid-term of the Spring semester and it would only be eight weeks. So, we accepted. And mom came to stay with us during the week, arriving Monday afternoon and leaving Thursday afternoon, taking care of Barrett while I worked.

Summer came and I was able to stay home with her. Paul worked some that summer but was home early every afternoon. We kept Owen at the preschool because to take her out would mean we would lose our slot, unless we continued to pay for it. We also thought the consistency of maintaining her regular schedule was best for her.

Come Fall, I agreed to take on a full load of classes again. And I still could not find an opening for an infant. So, again, my Mom (bless her) stepped in. We aimed for Feb, 2008 for Barrett's entry into daycare. Then she would be one year old and Owen's daycare center (the one at my college) would accept her into the toddler classroom.

I got on the waiting list. I made a point of taking Barrett in with me once in a while. The teachers made a point of getting to know her (so the transition would be smoother and she would be more comfortable). All seemed to be lining up just right.

In September, we received a letter from Owen's center (one of the ones run by the local commission). It seems by their analysis, child care centers in the state are getting much more than we were paying. In fact some areas of the state they are getting more than twice what we were paying for Owen. So, they were raising the their prices. For toddlers between 1-3 the price went up by half. Half! That's the amount we were paying already plus another half of that! For children in the preschool classroom (where Owen is now) the amount rose by a third. Effective November 1--Merry Christmas to the family.

[Now, yes, I do realize that child care expenses increase and so rates must increase. That the teachers must be paid fair wages for all the work they do. What I resented was the wording of the letter which implied that one of the major reasons for the increase was that other centers in the state were getting away with significantly higher prices. Never mind that those centers are located in cities where the average family income is significantly higher.]

So we debated and discussed. I wanted to keep Owen there because the center is not only convenient to my work, it's in the same building. Plus changing day care is stressful on a young child and she is comfortable there. She has her friends, she likes her teachers, Dad and I are nearby, it's a community.

But what to do about Barrett. Of course, this center is the most convenient, and all of the other five-star rated centers are run by the same commission so will have the same costs. And her sister is there. And they know her and like her and can't wait to get her. But the cost of having both children at that center would be almost double the cost of my home mortgage payment. Almost double. We simply cannot afford it and pay Paul's tuition and live within our paychecks. We would have to go into debt--for child care. And that makes no sense whatsoever.

It also means that my working is useless in terms of contributing to our family finances. In fact, with both children in daycare, we are paying for me to work. Now, I choose to work for several reasons: one, to maintain my employability for the future; two, to maintain my sanity, because I do not do well at home; and three, because I like teaching and it makes me a better...me. This is my choice, my personality, my family and what works for us. However, if we are having to pay for me to work, those reasons start seeming hollow.

We've been round and round the issue as Barrett's birthday looms this week. And, after much agonizing and discussion with Mom, we have decided to keep her (Mom) on until the end of the semester. Again, she has truly become our lifesaver (can you see why I am so grateful to her?).

In addition, we've decided to take Owen out of preschool for the summer, saving at least two months of her child care costs. Hopefully, when August comes, we will have saved enough to pay for Paul's tuition and for care for both children (or we will have found somewhere cheaper). Hopefully, there will still be slots available.

So, that's our child care story, for now. As the article mentioned, this is one part of parenting they don't tell you about when you're pregnant, and many of us never realize just how difficult these decisions are until we're right in the thick of it.

Seriously...

Articles like this recent Charlotte Observer series: "The Cruelest Cuts: The Human Cost of Bringing Poultry to Your Table"

And news like this: USDA recalls 143 million pounds of beef.

I am seriously considering becoming vegetarian. Unfortunately I just agreed to go on an Atkins Diet with my Dad for the month of March. Does anybody know if there is a Vegetarian Atkins program? OR a vegetarian diet that helps you lose weight and have better energy?

Friday random thoughts

A few things on my mind today:

1. Owen has been struggling lately with independence skills. She wants to be a big girl and do things for herself while at the same time holding on to old baby behaviors. It's been a challenge, to say the least.

[Owen chose and put on this outfit herself this morning, then wanted me to take her picture. She has an inappropriately summery dress over leggings, too small shoes, and, of course, the hat.]

As someone trained in counseling and reasonably well-read in the area of communication, I know that often we don't understand one another because we don't really get the metamessage (the underlying, emotional, true message) when we are listening. The truth is, we also don't really listen much of the time, so we miss the overt message as well, especially when it comes to children. We think we know what it is they are saying, and so we don't really listen.

This is something I've been seeing play out with Owen lately. She will, in a typical three-year-old fashion, want something to be a certain way. I, in my typical Mom fashion, will want to solve the problem quickly with minimal pain and anguish on both our parts. However, what she wants more than what she says she wants is to be acknowledged, and if I go ahead and solve the problem, or if I give her a logical explanation for why the problem can't be solved, she doesn't feel as I have a truly heard her.

Here's an example: Last night after bath, she wanted to show me just how big and independent she is, so she said she would do the getting-ready-for-bed routine all by herself. Get the toothpaste and brush teeth, pick out PJs and put them on. Usually I will lay out PJs for her, but this night she was having none of that. She not only wanted to pick out her own PJs, she wanted to wear her favorite purple unicorn footy pajamas. The same pajamas that were languishing in the dirty clothes basket because she had already worn them a couple of nights this week. I asked if her solid pink footy pajamas would do, since her favorite ones were in need of washing. She flew into a tearful rage (naked, mind you). Over and over I told her those were dirty, choose something else. Over and over she yelled that those were her favorites, she doesn't like any of her other pajamas.

She was so angry I wasn't sure what was going on. "Stop saying that!" she told me.

"What do you think I'm saying, Owen?" I asked (amazingly calmly).

"You're saying I like those others just as much and I don't! You're wrong, I don't!"

"Sweetie, I know you like those. You think those are the best pajamas ever. Still, they are dirty. Can you wear your second-favorite PJs instead?"

It amazed me that she had completely turned around what I had been saying, because she felt as if I missed the essential point of her anguish. Another time in the middle of a similar episode, she yelled: "I don't want you to say yes I want you to understand what I'm saying."

My heart went out to her. Don't we all?

[By the way, my acknowledging her did not really solve the PJ problem...it just calmed things down a bit. In the end, I took them out of the dirty clothes, decided they didn't smell too dirty, and let her wear them. I figured it mattered more to her to be able to wear what she wanted than for me to hold out on a small matter of already-worn PJs. They're in the washer right now to be ready for the weekend.]

2. Walking yesterday through the campus of the community college where I teach, I was struck by the pretty fall leaves on the steps and sidewalk and pavement. I found myself gathering a few...before the grounds crew came through with their blowers. I would give them to Owen, I told myself. She would like them.

However, when I got in the car (my mom picked us both up because my car is in the shop), Owen told me the leaves are supposed to stay outside. I told her they had already fallen on the ground. I didn't take them from the tree and they would just get blown away anyway. No...she didn't want them, they should stay outside.

So I decided to keep them for myself.

3. Today was a banner post office day! In my mailbox were three movies, a card from my friend Meg (with pictures enclosed), and the holiday editions of three of my favorite magazines.

I have a weakness for magazines, especially beautiful ones. And, yes, I know they are merely vehicles for big corporate advertising and are designed to make you want things. But I still love them. And I do recycle them in the best ways. The National Green Pages I will keep all year. The others I read, then let Mom read, then cut out articles I want to keep, then maybe cut out photos and cartoons for Owen to use in collages, and finally I will take them to the magazine table at the Henderson County Library (my mom's local library) where they will be snatched up immediately and enjoyed by someone else.

4. Tomorrow we get to have a Family Fun Day! Paul finished his last major project for his class last night, so he doesn't need to study this weekend. Next week is a short week for both of us, and we don't have a whole lot of class prep to work on.

We're going to wake up when we wake up (well, when Barrett wakes us, around 6am). Make pancakes when Owen gets up. Then head out. In his commute to grad school, Paul has been noticing the vivid colors south of here, so we're going to go to Mom's house the long way, see a waterfall we haven't seen in a long time, and take some pictures. Then, if there is time in the day, Paul and Owen are going to spend some Daddy-daughter time at this neat kids gallery and play space we discovered (one day when Paul wasn't with us, so Owen is excited to show him).

Then, the girls are going to stay with Mom while Paul and I go out for dinner and to see this movie. A real date! Just us! I am ridiculously excited about this.

5. I've been reading a lot of blog posts about handmade wooden toys, given A) the continued problems with toy recalls; B) the reported dangers of plastic toys; and C) the dearth of creativity in toys that are widely marketed these days (as Paul said to me yesterday: there are really only so many ways you can play with a Dora Bus). So, I've been looking at websites of some companies that sell natural toys. Then I look at the mass of toys we already have and I wonder: My kids (especially Owen) are so accustomed to toys that are realistic and/or electronic and/or flashy and commercial...are they going to "get" toys that require more imagination from them? For example, Owen has a number of metal matchbox cars and a plastic, Fisher-price Little People garage (kind of like this one, only handed down, so older). We're talked about getting her a wooden car track set for Christmas, along with some simple wooden cars and construction vehicles. Is that going to be good enough for her? Does she mean it when she said this morning that she wants one with a "button to make the cars go"? What to do?

6. The holidays are hard upon us, and I've been thinking a lot about what kinds of rituals and traditions I want to recognize and create for us this year, without making it into a season of insanity. Some things I know will happen: Pierogi Day with my in-laws; Christmas Eve PJ's for the girls from my Mom. I'd like to go to the Christmas tree farm again this year, and make a party of decorating the tree. I'd like to get each of the girls a special ornament for the year. I'd like to bake some cookies or do some cooking with Owen. My Grandma always made ornaments with us when we were kids...I wonder if we could do that together.

I really don't want to stress myself out trying to make. it. all. so. very. very. special. (Paul calls this my best-holiday-ever syndrome). But...I do want to make it special.

What are some of the things you're planning for the season?

Okay, so that's my brain dump for the day. I guess I had more to say than I realized.

Today I am thankful for...

Family to help me get around. My mom for driving us, Dad for letting us use his car.

Division of labor

Alissa at Life's Little Adventures, recently did a post about the division of labor in her household. I found it interesting. First because I'm a bit of a voyeur in that I love to get glimpses of other people's lives and how they go about the every day (let's face it: that's why most of us read blogs). And second, because Paul and I will have the occasional argument or tense moment, let's say, because I'll get a bee in my bonnet that he's not "pulling his weight" and I'm having to "do everything around here." An argument, I'll admit, which is usually unfounded and based upon my having had a bad day.

So here goes:

Tasks that are exclusively my domain:

1. Laundry.  Okay, so right off the bat, I must admit that with my mother as the baby's caregiver most of the week, she actually ends up doing a lot of the laundry. Thanks, Mom. I wouldn't survive without you.

2. Meal-planning and cooking. Of course, Paul does occasionally cook. For instance, he and Owen make pancakes most Saturday mornings. And if push came to shove, he could put together an omelet or burrito or quesadilla or something to feed the family. But planning weekly meals and preparing them is still almost exclusively my job.

3. Keeping the family social calendar. Not that we have much of a social calendar, but what I'm talking about here is keeping up with any dinner plans or lunch plans or appointments or even holiday and vacation plans. I take care of all of that. Same with doctor's appointments for the children, haircuts, holiday gift buying, knowing clothing sizes (as Alissa said) and related needs.

4. Childcare arrangements and child care. I arrange for daycare for Owen, for Grandma care for Barrett, for transportation to and from child care, for occasional babysitting (again Grandma). When they are not being cared for by others, I am the primary caregiver. I make sure they are fed and have clean and appropriate clothing and activities. That said, Paul does a great deal to help with the children (which I will itemize in a moment).

5. Packing for trips. Long or short trips. I will pack the children, myself, and usually, Paul.

6. Watering plants and feeding the wild birds. I do this because I'm the one who thinks about it.

7. Cleaning the kitchen sink. I hate to have a dirty sink. (Mom does this often, too. I think she hates a dirty sink as much as I do).

8. Concierge duties. Dropping things off at the cleaners, being home to let the repair professional in, making bank deposits, and other miscellany that rely on the fact that I have more "free time".

Tasks that are exclusively Paul's domain:

1. Earning the money for the household. Don't get me wrong, I do work. Officially, I work part-time and I am paid as a part-time employee. Which means, I get paid not much. In the summer, I don't work at all and I don't get paid at all. So our household budget relies exclusively on Paul's paycheck and the hours he puts in. That's no small contribution. In addition, any retirement monies we have, college savings for the kids, and health insurance all are provided by Paul.

2. Yard work. I am not necessarily proud to say that I have never in my life mowed a lawn. Growing up, I had brothers, and their job (David--there I put your name in) was to mow. When I lived on my own I didn't have grass to mow (townhouses, apartments and such). Then I got married, and Paul took over the task of mowing any lawns we've had. And, frankly, although I can and have raked leaves, mulched flower beds and done other yard tasks, I mostly leave that to Paul (and my Dad).

3. Taking the trash to the dump station. We live in the country, so we don't have trash pickup. Once a week, then, Paul will carry all of our trash and recycling to the dump station.

4. Maintaining the cars. Although I will take my car in to the shop, Paul is the one who pays attention to the level of fluids in the engine, the level of air in the tires, the maintenance that needs doing regularly.

5. Household repair. Paul keeps things maintained in the house--water heater, furnace filters, appliances, water filters, plumbing, etc. If he can't repair something himself, he's the one who arranges for the professional.

6. Cleaning the floors. Paul has taken this on as his task because he has a low tolerance for a filthy floor. So he vacuums, sweeps, and mops regularly.

7. Cleaning the kitchen counters. Again, a low tolerance issue. He hates for there to be food particles and grime on the kitchen counters.

8. Bath time for Owen. We have settled into a routine where Paul gives Owen her bath and I (or my Mom) will bathe Barrett. He washes her hair, makes sure her teeth are brushed before bed, and gets her dressed for bed. Sometimes he will read to her, sometimes I will, depending on her whim.

9. Taxes. Although I share in budgeting and bill-paying, Paul does our taxes. Every time.

Tasks we share:

1. Baby care. We're about equal on diaper changes. Same with getting up with Barrett (although she generally sleeps through the night, she gets up at the ungodly hour of 5am daily). Making formula and preparing bottles. Giving her a bottle. I (or again, Mom) mostly feed her and buy or prepare her food, and Mom or I will bathe her, but Paul shares equally the other responsibilities for Little Bear.

2. Dishes. This leans a bit toward me, simply because I spend more hours at home and because I'm picky about how the dishwasher is loaded. Still, Paul will quite readily clear the table and load the dishwasher when necessary.

3. Taking care of the dog. This, too, leans a little toward me because Paul doesn't really like feeding the dog and I don't mind so much. Again, my mother does it much of the time. We all let him out and/or walk him as needed. I arrange for vet care usually just as I arrange for doctor's visits for the children. We all give him his regular belly rubs and Paul and I share our bed space with him--sometimes Paul's side, sometimes mine.

4. Budgeting and bill-paying. We share this responsibility equally and sit down together once a month to pay bills and go over our spending.

5. Groceries. This used to be my job exclusively, until I complained one too many times about how much I dislike it. Now it's more common for me to write up a list based on the sale papers and my meal plan, give it to Paul, and let him to the shopping. Sometimes I still do it and sometimes we do it together, but lately Paul has taken this on more often than not.

6. Transportation. Sometimes I drive places, sometimes Paul does. It depends on who gets to the car first, whose position the seat is in, and who is most tired. Two days of the week, due to our schedules, Paul drives Owen to school. I take her the rest of the time, and I pick her up most days (although Mom picks her up Mondays and Wednesdays).

7. Cleaning the bathrooms. This is usually a function of which one of us becomes more disgusted by it faster. Sometimes that's me, sometimes that's Paul.

8. Making the bed. Usually I do it, because I feel better when my bed is made for some reason. But Paul will do it if I haven't gotten to it and he has time.

9. Straightening the house. I do most of this because my tolerance level for clutter is lower than Paul's, but he will certainly pick up clothes off the floor or toys strewn about the living room or books lying about.

10. Bedtimes and reading with Owen. This is usually a function of Owen's preference, which changes daily.

11. Discipline. I mean Owen here. Barrett is too young for more than a firm "No!" and a redirection from the outlet or electrical cord or knives or bleach she might be getting into. Owen, however, sometimes needs a time-out or a talking to. We share this equally, I think. I may have to fuss at her more because I have more time at home with her, but only a little. We always support each other's discipline and rules--at least in her earshot. If we disagree, we try to do it offline.

12. Initiating sex. There, I said it. Let's face it, once you've been married a while, this becomes a task that needs to be, well, almost scheduled. Or is that just us? Seriously, we have two small children. My mother stays with us three nights a week. We both work a lot of hours. Paul is in school. Please tell me you, too, would have trouble finding the time to connect in all of that. So, we will drop hints to each other. For example, on Wednesday, I might suggest to Paul that, say, Saturday night might be a good time. Once the kids are in bed. And the house is picked up. And homework is done. Then Saturday will roll around and one or the other of us will be too exhausted to consider it. But at least it's not one-sided. At least we are equal on that.

Tasks for which we receive a substantial amount of outside help:

As you know we live reasonably close to our families. My Dad lives only minutes away. My Mom lives about and hour and a half away. Paul's parents live an hour away. So we receive a great deal of help in managing our schedules and two kids.

1. For example, my Mom comes to our house on Monday afternoons and stays with us until Thursday afternoons. Monday and Wednesday nights she takes care of both children while I go teach my evening class, usually from about 3:30, until Paul gets home after 6:00. Tuesdays and Thursdays she cares for Barrett while I am at school from 7:00am until 4:00pm. But she does more than that: she is our exclusive babysitter for the occasional dinner out. She helps me care for the children even when I'm home during the week (Mondays and Wednesdays). She is always at the ready, always pleasantly willing to help me in any way I need.

2. During the time she is at our house for childcare, Mom is usually doing other household tasks. Mostly laundry and ironing, but other things, as well. Keeping the clutter down, doing dishes as needed, cleaning the sink, cleaning off the deck, sorting and putting away the children's clothes, etc.

3. Sometimes (honestly, most weekdays this summer) my Dad will cook for us. He is a wonderful cook and is teaching me to be braver, more improvisational in my cooking.

4. Dad also does the gardening, flower and vegetable. He has a helper in Owen, but our gardens are really Dad's creation, Dad's work.

5. Transportation and child care. Dad helps here, too. Dad will pick Owen up from school on occasion. Last year, he picked her up twice a week and took care of her until I got home. He even took care of her when she was sick. I mean throwing up sick. Something I'm told he never did with his own children, but that's another tale. Mom, too will transport and care for either or both children as needed (see above).

So, what does all of this tell me? I guess that I'd better quit bitching. I've got it pretty darn good. A helping husband and many extra helping hands. I am, truly, blessed.

How does it all shake out in your house?

Being the change

You must be the change you wish to see in the world--Mahatma Ghandi

I am not usually a person who takes a stand. Oh, I'll complain like the rest of us to anyone within earshot. But I'm not the person who actually sits down and writes the letter, who makes the phone call, who sets the meeting to discuss my objections or issues. I will think about doing all those things, even plan what I would have said. But when it comes down to it, I let my natural passivity take over.

But that was before having children. For my child's sake, I am braver, stronger, ready to protect and defend. And by doing so, I recently discovered, I may even be able to create true change.

Owen goes to daycare/preschool at the community college where I teach. In fact, the center is in the same building as my office, my Dad's office, and our classrooms. I like having her so close; I like the low teacher-child ration they have; and I like that they train child development students there.

Recently, our community college announced to faculty and staff that they will be having a couple of "Critical Incident" drills on campus (in response to the Va Tech tragedy and other school shootings). During one of these drills, they will have local law enforcement and emergency personnel responding. They will lock down every building. It's a big deal. They even plan to cancel classes and have all students and visitors leave campus.

But they did not plan to close the daycare center.

Their idea was to make sure the children were inside and occupied during the drill so that they would not know what was happening, with law enforcement, emergency personnel, air horns, and God knows what else going on. In the same building. I felt very strongly that this was not the right approach. For several reasons, which I will not list here.

I felt so strongly about that I wrote a letter to my Dean and asked her to forward it to the relevant party. She did, and the chairperson of the committee responded in sort of a dismissing way. He suggested I talk to the area director for the agency that manages the child care center. So I wrote her a letter, listing my objections, my reasons, and proposing some solutions. It was a pretty good letter, I think.

However, I heard no response from anyone on the letter. No "I got it", no "Thank you for your concerns, but...", nothing. I wasn't even sure if the letter was received.

Then yesterday, a letter was given to all the parents of the child care center, informing them of the drills and that the center will be closed for the full drill. They cited two of the reasons I had listed in my letter.

Of course, I have no way of knowing if other parents made similar complaints. But I like to think that by using my voice to speak up, I helped to create the change. I'm proud of myself.

Start spreading the news

Given some of the comments and questions regarding our trip, I guess I should tell you all about it.

I have been to New York several times. Here's a rundown:

1. First trip: I was 19? 20? years old and I went with my Dad and his wife. I immediately fell in love with the city. We saw two plays (including Cats, of course), had dinner at Sardis, took a Circle Line tour, went to FAO Schwartz, walked through the lobby of the Plaza Hotel, had a glass of wine in the Oak Room of the Algonquin Hotel, rode  the subway, went to Greenwich Village, visited the Guggenhiem Museum, did the tourist thing. Unfortunately, for some reason, we did not go to the Statue of Liberty. We did, however, go to The Metropolitan Museum of Art. I am not exaggerating to say that going to this amazing place changed who I am. I had never seen art like this before. Real art. Original works that I had only heretofore seen in books. Oh the detail, the colors, the power and beauty of it all left me speechless and walking around with tears in my eyes. We spent hours upon hours there, and when we finally emerged into the daylight I felt as if I were coming out of the clouds to set my feet upon the Earth once more. It was an experience.

2. The second trip was for business and pleasure (and a little pain) combined. I flew into the city to go to a conference about an hour away. Since I would be there anyway, I booked a hotel for a couple of extra  weekend days in the city. Paul, who was not yet my husband at the time, flew in to join me. By that time, my dear friend Meg was living there, and she talked us into doing this absolutely crazy bike ride through the five boroughs with about 50,000 other people. Yes, I said bike ride, as in bicycles. Yes, I said through the five boroughs. Yes, all of them. 45 miles, numerous bridges, streets closed down and everything. Oh, and at the time, it had been about seven years since I had even been on a bicycle. But we did it (very slowly), and it really was great. I remember at the end I had to run for the Staten Island Ferry so as to get back to my hotel to pick up my luggage and head to the airport for my flight. Sitting on the plane I was so exhausted I was hallucinating that I was back on my bike and the noises around me were all the other bikers. My butt was sore for days.

The other thing I remember about that trip was a little Italian restaurant where Paul & I ate dinner one night. We were starving after walking around all day but didn't want to eat at some touristy place, so we walked down some side street off Times Square and stumbled into this place that seemed right out of a movie. Waiters speaking broken English, wine bottles with candle drippings on the table, the owner (an avuncular gentleman) seating us himself. But the best part was the food--Oh.my.God. I still remember that food.

3. My next trip to the city was with my friend Cathie and her friend Louise. We went just to go. A girls' weekend. We visited museums (of course, the Met, but also some others), we saw a show, we ate at sidewalk cafes, we went through Central Park.

By that time, Meg was working at the South Street Seaport Museum. So, of course we went there. She let us tag along on an educational sailing trip with some middle school kids. She showed us around the neighborhood. She walked us across the Brooklyn Bridge and took us to a strange performance art installation inside a cavernous space in the base of the bridge. And she took us for some most excellent pizza at some hole in the wall joint.

One image that is burned in my brain from that trip is this: We had walked across the Brooklyn Bridge under threat of a storm. Once we were across, we looked back toward Manhattan and I saw the twin towers against the dark clouds but illuminated red and gold by the setting sun behind me. I took a photo with my cheap toss-away camera. I always loved that photo. After 9/11/2001 I dug it up again and mailed it to Meg, who had been working at the Seaport six blocks from the towers that day, and who saw them fall.

It is for Meg's wedding that we are going to New York this weekend, and I am so happy to do so. Paul and I hope to visit Ground Zero while we're there.

And then we will cross back over the bridge to Brooklyn, to the neighborhood of Red Hook, and dance and celebrate our friends. Our freedom. Our lives.

More on finding peace

Part of the problem I wrote about in my last post has to do not just with my reaction to things, but also the legitimate problem of managing two young children. Kind of Crunchy Mama touched on this in her comments to that post.

I do feel like my family doesn't recognize what actually needs to get done for special events to happen smoothly. They don't understand that I can't just pick up at the spur of the moment and go have some fun. That I have an infant in diapers who not only needs bottles, but baby food and related paraphernalia. That I have a preschooler who is just recently potty trained and needs extra attention to the possibility of accidents. That these things require me to carry quite a bit of stuff along when I go somewhere.

I don't think Paul, for instance, understands what kind of planning and preparation actually go into my ability to change Owen's poopy pants in the middle of a busy downtown street a half mile from the car and no restrooms in sight while waiting for Independence Day fireworks to begin.

Before I had children, I was blissfully ignorant of all of this, too. I remember at my cousin Stacy's baby shower (before kids for me), her older sister Karyn gave us both the advice that we should fit kids into our lifestyles rather than fit our lifestyles to our kids. I nodded sagely, sure of the wisdom of her advice. After all, at the time I thought it ridiculous if my friends with children wouldn't do something because it interfered with nap time or was too inconvenient for the kids. I swore I wouldn't be like that. When I had kids, I would be flexible, relaxed, I would have them adjust to my life.

You're smiling. I know. I was delusional, wasn't I?

Two kids later I do try to be flexible. I won't bar the door and turn off the telephone and block all outside light during nap time, for example. My kids have learned to nap in a house that is impossible to keep dark and silent (I have a dog, I have neighbors, I don't even have curtains on many of my windows).

But as a mother I also have to be aware at all times of the needs of my children. I am painfully aware of what happens when they don't get enough sleep, when they get overstimulated, when their routine gets thrown for more than a day. Children need for parents to be flexible, but they also need structure. It just works better that way for all of us.

And providing that structure is actually work. It doesn't just happen. It requires planning and organization and even physical work. Special events or special trips require even more work.

So what happens is this: I am running around doing the work of getting stuff together to get the entire family out of the house with everything we need to meet any contingency, and Owen starts wanting me to get something for her or starts crying because the dinosaur won't move its feet right or whatever and Barrett gets herself stuck between the TV stand and the chair and Paul is following me around asking me what he should do or what I need for him to do or what can he do. And I just want to yell "Open your eyes, Man, and look at what needs doing!" I find myself angry that he can't see what I see or hear what I hear or know what I know about the tasks that need doing.

To be fair: I really can't expect him to know what I'm thinking and he does ask me how he can help. He does sincerely want to help. And I have taught him that I will take care of things. I have always packed all of us for trips, for instance, so that he really doesn't even know what kinds of things I pack and where I keep those things. I usually just take care of it.

I don't want to paint Paul as an ogre here. He is a very supportive husband. He does not just leave me to take care of the kids. He is involved, he is caring, he makes bottles and changes diapers and gets up in the night, he does plenty of household chores. And he works a full-time job where I only work a part-time job (outside of home). And now he's going to school. With homework.

The problem is me. The problem is one of balance. I have trouble finding balance.

Right now, for example, I am trying to get these words down before they fly out of my head and I can no longer say what I want to express coherently. But Owen has just carried a large pile of books into the living room for me to read with her. Paul is at work (rare on a Saturday). Barrett is fussy. And we're going to try to make it to the fair late this afternoon. We might even stay the night in Asheville with Paul's parents and go to church in the morning. So I have a bit of preparation to do. It'll probably take me most of the morning.

And blogging about it isn't getting it done, so I must go.

Tell me, though, how do you find balance?