A Little Less Contemplation, a Little More Action, Please

Trying to cross off one from my to-do list today (sort of):

What is my personal, moral responsibility to the planet?  At what point does all the head-wagging and tongue-clucking become hypocritical?  Am I morally obligated to drastically change my lifestyle, drop in the ecological bucket though it may be?  How much comfort am I allowed?  And how much comfort today steals comfort from my children and my children's children tomorrow?

We've built up this world and this society in such a way as to make life about pleasure and not survival.  And I embrace that.  I am a comfort-seeker.  I like to be warm, well fed, and entertained.  And when I think about what is right for my children and what I owe them, I generally think in terms of the right instructional activities, the most healthful and acceptable meals, the best books to read to them, and the right amount of cultural exposure.  It is too difficult to imagine that this could all be in vain, that the best way to ensure their future happiness (or a future at all) would be to jettison the piano lessons and take up farming and wood work.  So I don't imagine it.  I selfishly pursue the modern "normal" life, full of Disney movies and beach vacations.  Not that those things are bad in themselves.  It's just a devotion to capitalism and a fossil-fuel dependency that drives these things in a very unavoidable way.

Some of my friends are, in fact, jumping into an environmentally-sound lifestyle.  I applaud them, but I know I could never be them.  Which amounts to the best excuse I've been able to come up with: as a single family there's only so much we can do.  Any drastic lifestyle change is more hand-washing than anything else.  But then again, perhaps there's a certain amount of evangelism that comes with such a move.  My friends' move has certainly had that effect on me.  Which brings me back to the original question: what is my personal responsibility?  Sorry to be Debbie Downer, but I need answers, people.

Ode to the Library

As many of you know, my family and I will be spending six weeks this summer back in our home-state in the US.  I am really looking forward to this time with friends and family, of course, but I find myself daydreaming about something else entirely.  I've recently been spending a lot of time in the American library in my mind.

There are plenty of things that I miss about the US; easy to flush toilets, good burritos, Target.  But I think what I miss the most, besides friends and family, are the libraries.  Go to just about any town in my home-state with a population over 1,000 and you will find a public library.  Now I can't attest to the quality of each and every library either in my home-state or in Dublin, but my impression is that most US libraries have Dublin libraries pretty well beat in terms of number of books, size of facility, programs, and use.  I don't mean to hate on Dublin libraries, but my local library consistently disappoints me.

When I think about the Davis library I salivate.  Want an book by Roald Dahl?  Sure, which one?  We have his entire opus.  Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban checked out?  No problem.  Request it from another library for free.  Does the library have A Midsummer Night's Dream*?  Are you kidding?  Of course.  3 copies.  Let's browse the audio books today, set aside at least an hour to do so.  On a Sunday.  Have Earth Day projects planned?  Go ahead and check out the 7 books on Earth Day, both fiction and non-fiction.  They're easy to find.  The biggest problem you'll encounter at the Davis library is carrying home all the books you can  check out.  You're allowed 50 at a time.  My local library in Dublin allows 12.

12.

Library lovers, you get me.  I am a library lover.  Libraries rock.  When I was in 5th grade I was allowed to walk from school to the library (5 whole blocks!) by myself and spend several glorious hours there.  In 8th grade I wrote a poem that was a loving portrait of my local childhood library for a school project (Although, I admit, this project was a collection of poems of questionable merit, one of which was titled "Ode to a Stapler" and which included the lines "You can staple your teachers/and muddle their features," which probably would earn a suspension if handed in today.)

I don't think Americans know how lucky they are when it comes to free access to books and media.  My mother says that anyone who has access to a good library is not poor.  So USA here we come.  I'll see you at the library.



*Cute Aside Alert:  Catie came home from school yesterday and asked me earnestly "Mom, have you heard of William Shakespeare?"

Why I am a blogger

“It made me sad when I caught myself pretending that everybody out there in cyberspace cared about what I thought, when really nobody gives a shit. And when I multiplied that sad feeling by all the millions of people in their lonely little rooms, furiously writing and posting to their lonely little pages that nobody has time to read because they’re all so busy writing and posting, it kind of broke my heart.” 
― Ruth Ozeki, A Tale for the Time Being*

I have more blog drafts than I have published blogs.  I struggle with content because I am painfully aware of how ignorant I am.  There are a bazillion things that I would like to write about.  I have a lot of questions and half-formed opinions on a variety of topics from education to ethics and everything trivial and profound in between.   I'm not interested in blogging about my terrific vacation.  No one cares.  I don't want to sell anything (this blog brought to you by think-for-yourself-o-matic!).  I don't think I'm particularly smart or funny, and I certainly don't have anything novel to say.

So why blog at all?  I won't lie; I love watching the page-views ticker go round and round. I love comments.  But it isn't about notoriety. I think it's about two things; authenticity and community.  I want to have a place where I can reveal my authentic self in relative safety.  It's a place where I can carefully construct a (hopefully) moderately entertaining and truthful account of myself, my thoughts, and what I believe.  This is something I can't do with a friend over coffee, because, I admit, coffee does for my mouth what it does for others' bowels.  I need the filter written word provides. And there's something to be said for being able to disseminate these thoughts en masse.  If I tell my friends in person that I'm not going to apologize for my messy house it sounds reproachful.  But on my blog it sounds witty (she said, polishing her knuckles).

The community bit may sound a tad hokey, but I truly value others' input.  If I'm blogging about a topic it means I'm probably struggling with it and want to know what others think.  Which brings me to a question (and please forgive the meta-blogging): what do you, fair readers, think of the quote above?

*I loved this book, by the way, and highly recommend it.

To Do

• Blog more
• Do research for blogs about mindfulness, feminism, parenting in a dying world, and other uplifting subjects
• Reduce reliance on petroleum and electricity.
• Grow own food.
• Knit next year's Christmas gifts
• Convince the misguided of the truth about guns, abortion, gay rights, health care, evolution, climate change, and what constitutes good music.
• Be less judgmental.
• Make a 5 year plan.
• Live in the moment.
• Become a vegetarian.
• Learn to cook meals that please the in-laws.
• Write and record an album of childrens' songs.
• Learn guitar and/or piano.
• Exercise.
• Learn web design.
• Do more math and phonics activities with the girls.
• Practice meditation.
• Read books that should have been read in high school and college.
• Write a critically acclaimed novel and be interviewed by Terry Gross on Fresh Air about said novel.
• Get milk. 

A Guide to Irishisms, By an American for Americans

Several people told me when I left for this whole Irish "adventure" they would love to read about my experiences on my blog.  Well, the move was adventurous, but in a crazy, scary way that doesn't make for great reading.  So here I am, several months later, ready to do a little bit of blogging about my experiences here.  Being the language nerd I am, I have decided to give you an overview of Irish-isms, strictly from my own point of view based on my own experiences.  This guide in no way reflects an accurate or comprehensive definition of such terms. Use at your own risk.

Tanks a million: (phrase) "Thank you very much."
Ex. "The lift is down the hall to your right."
      "Tanks a million."

Banjaxed (Adj.): Really screwed up.
Ex.  "My piece of shite car is completely banjaxed."

Chicken (Adj.): Term of endearment for a small child.
 Ex. "Would you like a sweetie, Chicken?"

Your Man (Noun): A man one doesn't know personally or whose name one can't recall, but it is understood whom one is referring to.
Ex. "So what what did your man say about the car?"

Jeannie Mac! (interjection): An expression of surprise or disbelief.
Ex. "Jeannie Mac, it's going to cost that much to fix?!"

Grand (Adj). 1. Good 2. OK 3. Not great, but endurable
Ex. "How are you today?"
      "My husband left me this morning, but sure, I'm grand"

So (conjunctive adverb, or some such):  Expression that connotes a question about finality, often used where an American would say "then."
Ex. "Are you ready to go, so?"

Half-five (Time): 5:30.  But really, 5:45-6:00.
Ex. "I'll call round at half-five, so."

Lovely Day (Greeting): Hello.
Ex. "Lovely day today, isn't it?" (See also: Terrible day)

Toilet (Noun): Bathroom.
Ex. "I'm going to go to the toilet and be right back."

Bold (Adjective): Naughty.
Ex."Those bold boys got what was coming to them!"

Kind regards (??): Polite closing to a letter or email similar to "sincerely."
Ex. "Kind regards, Johanna B."

Regards (??): Closing to a letter or email implying "Fuck off."
Ex. "The principal will answer your enquiry in due course. Regards, School Secretary"

5 minute walk (Noun): 15 to 20 minute walk.
Ex."Sure it's just down the road, a 5 minute walk"

Bye-bye bye bye bye (interjection).
"Goodbye" in a polite telephone conversation.  Ex. "That's grand, so.  Talk to you soon. Bye-bye bye bye bye."

I'm Back and I'm Not Sorry

Hello.

I'm back.

It's funny that even with all these communication devices at our finger tips it is immensely hard to find the time to actually communicate.  I can look at pictures of cats as much as my crazy cat-lady heart desires, but when it comes to composing a real email or, <gasp> a blog post,  I just don't really have the time.  I have the time now because I have moved the actual computer with the actual keyboard into the living room, and the two-year-old is set up with watercolors and is making the coffee table her canvas.  Meh, whatever gets her to stop shouting "REEEEEAD TOOOO MEEEE" for 30 seconds.

That brings me to today's topic.  I know a lot of you want to hear about my life in Ireland.  I said I'd blog about all the amazing experiences I'm having here, but I haven't.  I just don't have the motivation.  Life here is a lot like life in the US, only lonelier.  I have managed to connect with a group or two, and I'm trying to host a little get together <gulp> tomorrow.  I'm a little nervous because I'm not like the other women in this group.  They (mostly) all have money and big, beautiful, CLEAN homes.  I don't have any of those things.  I'm writing this blog post now to try to convince myself that, here goes:

I am done apologizing for my home.

I have always been embarrassed by my lack of ability to keep things neat and organized.  Or, rather, not always.  I'd say that in Davis I had friends who didn't care that my house was a mess, but that's not exactly it.  I think it's actually a question of priorities.  My friends in Davis generally lived similar lives to mine.  We were mostly academic wives with small children.  We had no money but plenty of books.  Spending time chained to the couch nursing our kids was more important (and way more fun) than vacuuming.  Blocks, paints, homemade playdough, and baby socks were common living room decor.  This was my posse, the people who understood and didn't need to hear "sorry my house is a disaster" when they came over for playdates or dinner.

I feel like I'm giving my friends in Ireland a raw deal.  I don't mean to imply that women I know here are snobs.  They're not.  They're some of the warmest people around.  They just happen to have clean homes.  At least when I see them.  And good for them, seriously.  This is all about me, feeling like I ought to have a clean home because others do.  If they can find the time and the inclination to clean and organize their homes that's great.  If cleanliness is important to you then you should spend time cleaning and you shouldn't have to apologize to anyone for that.  Cleanliness just isn't that important to me and never has been (much to my parents' dismay).  My home is a reflection of what is important to me.  Books are important to me.  My apartment is littered with them.  My kids' sense of accomplishment is important to me.  My walls are covered with their art work.  Delicious, comforting, and wholesome food is important to me.  My kitchen is full of homemade baked goods and dirty dishes.  And as a consequence of all the reading and doing art and baking  (and nursing. Did I mention so. much. nursing? Yes, I nurse my 2.5 year-old.  A lot. That's something else I'm not apologizing for) there isn't much time leftover for laundry and vacuuming and putting away toys.  My standard for cleanliness is basically not-Hiroshima.

So please, come on over.  There are crumbs on my chairs but banana bread in the oven.  To enter my home is to know me, the real me, and if that's not hospitality, then I don't know what is.

Confessions of a Control-Freak

I was struck recently by a friend's status update on Facebook.  "I love being a parent," she wrote, "but I hate  parenting." My first reaction was shock. "Me too," I thought "but it takes serious chutzpah to say it."  Yes I love being a mom.  My kids are my whole life.  But that's exactly why I hate parenting, too.  It is seriously, completely, mind-numbingly exhausting.  I wrote in this very blog not too long ago that I don't have the energy at the end of the day to learn anything.  A product of my public school education, perhaps (ahem), but I think it's more likely that two small demons darlings are sucking every micron of patience and energy out of me from the moment I get up in the morning until that blessed moment they go to sleep at night.    Not that I'm bitter.  Really, I'm not.  I'm just searching every day for a balance between my own needs and desires and those of my children.  And I think it's safe to say that my kids' needs and desires usually come first.  But, like so many things I'm realizing on this parenting journey, I feel my world occasionally flipping upside-down.  I found myself having the following conversation with my four-year-old the other day and had a small epiphany:
Me: Put on your jacket, it's cold outside.
C: No, I don't want to.
Me: But you'll be cold.
C: No I won't.
Me: Yes you will.
C: No I WON'T! I'm HOT!
Me: If you don't put this jacket on right now, we are not going to the park!

Can you hear the record screeching to a halt?  What on earth was I saying?  Why do I care so much whether she puts on her jacket or not?  We live in California, what's going to happen, hypothermia?  For a while I reasoned that she doesn't yet have the predictive skills to know that she's going to be cold when we go outside, so maybe I'm saving myself the "I'm cold" whine.  But that's a stretch.  It took me a while to realize this, but I think the issue here is control.  No kidding, you may say, but this was actually an epiphany for me.  I may be a bit of a control freak.  At least when it comes to my kids.  Why?  Just like my kids, I want some control over my own life.  As I said, my kids are my life. I want to be able to say at the end of the day that I called the shots (You WILL wear that jacket because I'M cold) and had some semblance of control. I am the master of my own day, the decider!  I need, just like my kid, to have some autonomy.  I might as well have thrown myself of the floor and wailed " MEEEEE DO IT!"

So that one is pretty straight forward.  I learned my lesson.  My kid isn't robbing me of my precious parental initiative by refusing to wear a jacket.  Battle averted.  But what about those situations when I need to use some of that preciously rationed cognitive energy in my parenting?  What if I just want ultimate control of the situation without having to negotiate?  I played dictator today at Starbucks.  C wanted more hot chocolate after having a kid's size cup of it. Of course that gets my goat because it makes me feel unappreciated.  Why can't she just be grateful for the generously bestowed treat and leave it at that?  Of course I told her no way "you've had enough, dear." Predictably, the whining ensued, and the steam pouring out of my ears obscured my vision.
"If you don't stop whining right now, we will take that tutu dress up set right back to the toy library!"

SAY WHAT???? What just came out of my mouth?  What does her tutu dress up set have to do with hot chocolate?  This is exactly the kind of parent I don't want to be; the one who flaunts and exerts her power just for the sake of control.  You're doing something I don't like?  Fine, I'm more powerful than you and I can force you to do my will by hurting you.  Am I an evil, terrible mom?  Well, maybe.  But really, I'm just tired.  I was trying to relax with my cup of coffee and just didn't want to have the conversation about why having a second cup of hot chocolate isn't healthy, especially when I'm likely to me met with the response "YES IT IS HEALTHY!" and tears.  So what's a mom to do?  Maybe if I take care to choose my battles wisely throughout the day, I will have the energy to have that conversation.  Or maybe I need to be a little more creative and try to use humor and distraction.  I hope for now it will be enough to realize that authoritarian threats are basically the same as the whining.  I'm just trying to get a little control, because the world is big, with big problems, and I am so very small.

What do you do?