Showing posts with label give up the rat race. Show all posts
Showing posts with label give up the rat race. Show all posts

Monday, May 15, 2023

She sang

 "Prepare, oh prepare"

she sang as she planted her garden

 "Prepare, oh prepare"

she sang as she hung her solar panels

"Prepare, oh prepare"

She hummed as the wildfire smoke made her eyes tear

That wasn't fun

plague and earthquakes elsewhere were enough

but for it to come home

that was not fun

But she ate her saurkraut

as the world burned around here

tried to stay grounded 

doing daily chores,

 of which there were never any lack


New she sang songs of redemption

as she hung on

waiting through the dark


waiting for the light

Friday, May 08, 2020

In many ways, this is the Best of Times

Now, I'll admit. I am fortunate. I have a full house of interesting people to love me and interact with me while we are locked away.  Just down the street is my parents. We have considered our houses as one and do not stay away from each other. But almost all other contacts, except the occasional doctor or grocery shop is gone.

And yet, it has not been all that bad.

I got my son back. My 19-year-old came home from college, moved his computer back to the living room. He has been cooking and being the driver for events. He has been there to help things run smooth, even as I spend hours a day helping him finish his college classes. He won't listen to the on-line lectures- so I get to step in and work with him on those items he misses. He is dedicated to maintaining his 3.8 GPA.

So we have all 8 kids home all day, every day. They spend a lot of time playing games together (many video/computer games). The little ones play hide and go seek and other games. We spend time every day playing fetch with dogs and pushing the littles on the swing.

We spend time every day watching something humorous together- laughing together. Our house wasn't built for a large family, so all 10 of us spend most of our waking hours sitting in the same room.- and we talk, we laugh, we confer together. What do we make for dinner? What groceries do we need? What do we name the baby?

Yes, we are expecting #9. And things shut down the week I called in sleepy to work on Monday and by Thursday I went to work and came home less than 1 hour later as news spread that we were social distancing at work. However, I haven't really worked from home. I have played. I have slept, helped with homework, scrubbed my own bathroom (our housekeeper is social distancing too). We made cookies together, popcorn balls, dinners (I think Nailed-It should have families goofing up together).

As church shut down, we started holding it at home; discussing the lessons, the readings. My boys who are too shy to participate in the sacrament at church, do so at home. My 9-year-old has learned to read- his tutoring went on-line. I am so glad we only have 3 kids with any on-line classes to try to balance. The first 10 minutes of every Zoom meeting is getting the technology to work.

Now my new reader sits on the couch reading some of the day. I can see his mouth sounding out some words.

When we do go out, it is more challenging, besides the normal struggle of finding shoes, we have to find masks. Everyone has their own. So far the only place the littles have gone have been to the chiropractor. We have kept our monthly visits, even as the dentist had to cancel all of theirs.

My parents have been an Angel for us. On Saturdays, they will often take the kids and we get a few hours of quiet to regain our sanity.

Yes, there are lots of big world problems to worry about, and I live a charmed little life. But I am so enjoying the time at home. Family time is the most precious thing we have in the world.




Sunday, November 24, 2019

What my letter to Santa taught me

A wrote a letter to Santa for my class the other day.

Dear Santa,
I want a nap. A nice, long, nap in a sunbeam. Curled up, warm and toasty.

I want time to play with my kids, build things with them, read to them, dance with them.

I didn't finish the letter since I had to give the lecture... but I realized that if I wanted time to be with my kids, then I've got to design my life to do it. These early cuddly years are slipping away and if I choose now to enter into a PhD program, then I will probably be spending way too much of that precious time shushing them up so I can write. That's not what I want to do with these years. In 10 years very few of these kids will want to hang with me any more (yikes, 5 of them will probably be grown up and moved away), but now I am the most precious thing to them. The PhD will wait. It is patient. But children grow up either way.

I also don't want to commute anymore. So I've got to design my life where I don't need to do that. That will give me back 6-12 hours per week of precious day time to be with the kiddos.

So I think I see possibilities opening up for me that would allow me to get an MBA in sustainable management - all on-line while working/being trained in as grant writer, and still have enough time to spend more with my kids then I do now. My schedule would be ultra-flexible and adjustable to whatever challenges come my direction for a while. Plus it would let us stay put in our house, stay near my family, and it would allow me to serve a wider variety of people than a specific PhD discourse community. (oh and it pays better now and probably 15 years down the line). Those reasons are all really appealing.

Saturday, May 11, 2019

Happy Knees

A simple keys to happier knees
it to wear long johns
when its below 40 degrees

 . . .

weak women often have weak mothers
but I have yet to me a weak woman

Womanhood is bestowed by strength-
that comes only from
smashed drams
empty bottles of hope
labors and tears
pains and joys

of taking a deep breath
and continuing to put one
foot in front of the other

 . . .
Where did Grandma get the guts
in an age when women were supposed to be quiet
to protect the domestically abused from their husband's riots?

Where did Grandma get the guts
when she was supposed to be sweeping the floor
to go to school evenings and night
so they'd no longer be poor?

Where did Grandma get the guts
 to raise her kids with compassion
when the role models abounded of the toxic masculine?

Where did Grandma get the guts
to kiss a total stranger
then she later married him
Where did Grandma get the guts to defy the female conventions?



Thursday, May 09, 2019

Spring Break Weariness

Poetry is something that needs time
and energy to feel
     rushing through you
     out your pen- unto paper
only to be changed again and again

hurried body and brain constrain the flow

but for me,
right now
it's just
deep bone weariness

Bilbo said - like butter spread over too much toast
like old winter snow that turns grey, but doesn't melt away

Like piles of books
each one with assignments due
 in your backpack
trudging wearily home
Friday after five

like time has sped up and you're standing still

like when you escape to a tropical island for your first break in years
and you spend all three days napping

like you haven't had time to clean up one thing your toddler did to
your house this month
the ominous of it feels oppressive
     floors unswept
     recycling overflowing
     crayons on every wall
     toilet paper unrolled
    books that have been scissored
     half eaten apples
     unwashed dishes
       hide in the couch
   handprints in jelly decorate your windows
But at least I did the laundry
   broken crayons litter the floor

like a coat worn all winter
without being washed
mittens smelling of gasoline
hair permanently mated
shaped as your hat

Saturday, May 04, 2019

Shrew Poetry

I have a little shrew
he visited my house
smaller than a mouse
he crawls into my shoe
underneath the piano
behind the laundry bin

I see him
long in tail and nose
scampering everywhere he goes

 . . .
I have a shrew
in my shoe
his name is Roo

Thursday, May 02, 2019

Magic 8 Ball

All day I am asked
           Questions
yes, no, maybe, never
seems to be my responses

there must be more
than yes or no
ask me why or how
or even what to do next
          Shake me up!

Wednesday, August 08, 2018

Motherhood is the Nessicity of Invention

Bloody Cucumber
Bloody Cutting board
and Bloody baby finger.

Egon tried to help me cut up cucumbers for pickles today. He must have nicked an artery at the tip of that finger. But I caught him and a rag and slowed it enough to bandage and went back to pickle making (after a brief stink washing blood off of it all).

Soon enough he tore the bandage off when we weren't looking and managed to get blood everywhere.

Bloody floor
Bloody couch
Bloody baby

It looked like a murder scene in here. After I caught him and a rag again I stanched it enough that it wasn't bleeding so I didn't bother with a bandage.

Yeah- pickles, and dinner and  My husband and big boys disappear to scouts. So I play outside with the toddler. How many times does a baby have to be pushed on a swing? How many times can you pull a wagon around the yard? How many times do you walk in circles balancing the bike the toddler rides (and by ride I mean sit on the seat with his legs not touching the peddles)? I think he might be learning to steer. I open the garage so he can pull the wagon in more directions. And sit down to brush my old black dog. That always leaves a pile of fur that makes it easy to imagine his bones had melted away and that's all that's left of the poor pooch.

So now its bedtime and the someone roughly handles the toddler and his finger starts bleeding again. Nowhere near as bad. But he had to be caught and bandaged so that my bed is only made bloody by me. But he puts the bandage in his mouth and chews it off. So we add it back on with a layer or two of duck tape.

He still manages to get it off. So We get a big boy's sock and safety pin it to his shirt. So far 5 minutes and the bandage is still on.

But between the dog fur and the bloody little kid, one would think I had brutally murdered the dog and forgot the clean up after myself. Only the dog is happily staring at us through the glass door, wondering when we will give up and go to bed.

Sunday, May 27, 2018

Children have become a luxury.

Children have become a luxury.

Instead of new cars, I have kids.
Instead of a fancy house, I have kids.
Instead of touring Europe, I have kids.
Instead of ATVs, camper, boats and other toys, I have kids.
Instead of jewels, designer clothes, or the newest iPhone, I have kids.

With birth control easily available and cheap, compared to a pregnancy, I have chosen to have each of the children I had. The last several I very specifically remember asking for. They are the jewels, the work, and glory of my life.

They are my focus, my entertainment, my joy and my hope for the future.

The birthrates in the US have fallen to an average of 1.77 children per women. That is sad. "Why don't people want babies?" is easy to ask, but most of it has to do with economic reality and not desire. Many people would also buy that fancier house/car or iPhone if they could afford it. However, most women still carve out space, time and money, for at least one of the cute little mini-mes in their lives, often at older ages than ever before.

Are children now status symbols? if so it is an ironic one. 

The one that almost precludes all others. For if you choose to have kids, you choose to have your walls colored on, you choose to stay up all night with inconsolable infants, you choose to wear sweatpants and forget to brush your hair some weeks. You choose to stretch your belly out of any recognizable form. You choose to spend your evenings at little league games and PTA meetings, weekends camping with Boy Scouts.  You choose to have your names scratched into your car's paint by a kid who just learned to spell. You choose to have the iPhone thrown in the toilet. And you choose to love them, again and again, no matter what they did to your stuff. You learn that the things that make you the happiest are not things at all, but are the relationships and growth of those around you.

Perhaps, kids are a status of your state of mind, one where it not only points to your economic status, but to your priorities.

Sunday, February 07, 2016

Wild Things

This weekend felt like some pages out of "Where the Wild Things are." Where after wild rumpuses he wanted to be where someone loved him best of all, so he gave up being king of where the Wild Things Are and jumped into his boat and set off to sail for over a year and a day and into the night of his very own home where his found his supper waiting for him and it was still hot.

I came home to a loving family from what felt like far away across the world, to kids who cleaned my house and baked me a cake and gave me presents of dragons and bangles, and just had to hug me to death. Some would think I would be coming home to the wild things, but it felt as magical as the ending of the book always feels. "And it was still hot,"

Sunday, July 05, 2015

Our Week at Family Camp

Our Week Day at Family Camp

Last summer when my autistic son refused to stay at scout camp because he had to sleep in a tent and eat food made in their dining hall, I did some research and found they had a family camp with cabins we could sign up for. I was excited because then we could just bring Galen (our autistic son) to his troop everyday so he could join them in earning merit badges and doing all other fun camp things while still being able to sleep indoors and eat mom’s cooking.


So six months after we made family camp registration, our family packed up the van and spent 3 weeks in a national park-hoping camping trip (mostly in Utah and Arizona). We even got Galen into a tent (that took 3 nights) and hiking on trails. And two weeks after that we again threw our camping supplies in the back of the van and headed off to Family Camp.


We drove the 2 hours to the middle of nowhere, dropped our 12 and 14 year old scouts off to join their troops and continued down the road for the Family Camp. It took 25 minutes to get to the Family Camp from where the troops were staying, down a long and winding road. Then we met the director, handed our health forms over, all of which are supposed to be signed by a doctor. Did I mention that meant 6 Camp Physicals just for Family Camp?, Yeah, we are a family of 9.


Then we were directed to our cabin and told our cabin councilor would come along and share all the rules with us, and they handed us the paper wristbands that we were supposed to wear all week so that the Family Camp would know we belong there. Of course these wristbands are the kind used in water parks and fairgrounds to show you paid for entrance that day. We went to the fair on Saturday, and had wristbands just like this. My toddler chewed hers off in ½ hour.


We emptied our van into the cabin and I let my husband park the van and hike the ½ mile back into the cabins. By then I had already had to pull the knife that is part of the cabin’s supplies out of my toddler’s grip and turn off the stove. The stove’s controls were on the front, right at toddler level. Our cabin counselor came and ran down a list of things that makes camp more fun (an interesting euphemism for nicely requested rules. Of course our 9-year-old with a mood disorder saw right through that.)


Interesting things about the family camp cabins, they have a kitchen sink with hot and cold water, a couch that pulls out into a double bed and 4 bunk beds, but no toilet or showers or baths. The nearest facilities was an out-house down a little trail. When we were on our national park trip, our 4 year old, who we are currently trying to potty train, did a really good job keeping dry. We also managed to be close to restrooms with flush toilets and running water for each of our campsites, which he was constantly running off to, but whenever our bathroom stop included an outhouse or pit toilets, then he refused to use them and would rather go in his pants. Of course some of those out-houses looked like they would be happy to eat anybody under 8 , sucking them in in one swallow, to go swimming forever in the lake of urine and poo. So I could see why he would refuse.
It wasn’t a large surprize that the toddler’s diaper was nasty and leaked all over. I bathed her in the kitchen sink and started a dirty diaper bag (that we set outside the cabin for odiferous reasons).


After we settled into our cabin we hiked off to the lakefront and spent 25 minutes in an orientation of the rules, buddy system, buddy boards and boat cabin before we even set foot in the water. By that time, our 9 year old (with a Mood Disorder, and a learning disorder) was already throwing a fit because there were too many rules for him to remember. We had to keep on top of Clay (our 9- year-old) because he began throwing sand and rocks. But he eventually calmed down and went in the water, where he became unhappy because it was too shallow in the area he was allowed without passing any sort of swim test. His main complaint at this point was that he couldn’t even remember what he was supposed to do for his swim test. So he and the 4 year old, 2 year old and 7 year old all played in the shallow water.


I decided that because we could only take out any boats with someone who classifed as a swimmer, that the week would be more fun if I took a swim test, so I went and got my suit on. Upon my return I requested a swim test for both me and Clay. After jumping in the water and being shocked with the cold, I started the 6 laps that were required, but because I need to wear my glasses to see anything, I usually have to swim with my head out of the water. After 4 laps of the side stroke, surprised at how out of breath I was, I stopped to catch my breath. When I didn’t feel caught up in my breath after a short break, I gave up wondering if I played too hard this weekend  (if dragging kids to a parade and a fair and then packing for a camping trip is playing).  or was just out of shape. Clay didn’t pass his swim test either. He touched bottom too many times in his required 2 laps, he wasn’t very happy about that, but did try again, which he also failed. We cheered him for trying, and trying again, because that is a big accomplishment for Clay.


When the toddler begin to get shivery, we pulled the kids out of the water to head back to the cabin. One of the staff felt he had to tell us that Clay had been throwing sand and rocks, so we apologized, recognizing that they had no comprehension that not engaging the anger issues is often the best approach to defuse the bomb that Clay was becoming.  At no time did Clay pose a threat to himself or others, but he did pick on his siblings a little (we were on top of that too).


I checked the activity board, that afternoon they would be making postcards and offering swimming lessons for those who would want it. Tomorrow they would offer sailing lessons, (for those with swimming qualifications), an unspecified fitness class and another craft project. On Wednesday they would be doing more swimming and crafts and so on the rest of the week. So the scouts were doing archery, wood carving, riffle shooting, high ropes courses, video game design and the Family Camp does crafts and swimming, all with many rules to follow. Yikes. I started to miss the hikes and activities at the national park, that were parent led, and available whenever we wanted them, I also felt jealous of my scout boys.


We hung around the cabin through dinner time, made a nice spaghetti. But I bumped the stove when I reached grab and glass and it turned on and melted the  plastic bag that was on it. After dinner we decided to go for a walk and find the shower house, with laundry and flush toilets! About a block down from us and behind the row of cabins sat 2 shower houses and a brick storm shelter that doubled as a game room. My kids had fun playing fussball while I perused the bookshelf looking for interesting games and books. Finding nothing too interesting, I wandered over to the shower house and used the flush toilet in a little closet and looked that the layout of laundry facilities; 1 washer and 1 dryer in each bath house, and a laundry sink. The showers were tucked into the toilet closets, I am not sure if there was enough room to actually get in and out of the shower, I never had to try and find out for myself. We all used the flush toilets, but Reuben (potty training 4 year-old) refused to.


Before we made it to the lodge  Reuben was smelling stinky and and obviously wet himself, but I had neglected to bring the diaper bag on the walk, so we let him live with it until we got back. Down at the lodge the councillors were singing (yes, literally they sing activity announcements) about the religious meeting that was going to happen down at the group fire pit. We had just found a box labeled “yard toys” with badminton rackets and birdies with a net already set up.


Badminton was the most fun, teaching the kids how to serve, attempting to volley the birdie, even though the net was set up under trees and powerlines (and the birdie kept getting stuck in the tree, and knocked off its course by the power lines.) After badminton and time watching fish on the dock we wandered back to our cabin, and I had finally figured out how to get Reuben clean, because I felt they would frown upon us dumping a poopy bottomed boy into the lake (and they allow no access to the lake when the beach is closed). I realize we could wash him in the laundry tub, like we have often done at home, when he was smaller. So I got all the stuff to bath Reuben and we went back to the bath house (14th block of the day with toddlers in tow for those of you counting), and that is when I found out it only had cold water in the laundry tubs. So I double checked all the shower stalls to see if there was any chance of an actual bathtub, and ended up scrubbing the poo off the butt and legs of a 4 year old boy in a laundry tub, who was screaming, because the water was nearly freezing.


Some of the kids begged to go home, nothing new, we survived the last trip, and I didn’t let my optimism for it die no matter how hard they begged (and they learned to enjoy most of it too), but I had to admit to Mike, that maybe this wouldn’t work out, but we would sleep on it and see if we couldn’t get Galen to join his scout troop for some activities tomorrow (and maybe even for us to find something interesting to do). As the day finally waned we did our scripture study and family prayer and tucked the kids into their beds. Then we went to the kitchen/ living room, pushed the table to the counter and had just enough room to lay down our king sized air mattress that was so awesome on our last trip. The mattress set up with not even an inch to spare between the table, that was pushed up to the counter, and the couch.  We didn’t use the pull out of the couch because a double is just too small for the 3 of us.


I held off until the last rays of sun were shining before setting off on the hopefully last trip to the outhouse before morning. Then brushed my teeth and snuggled in for a well deserved good-night’s sleep.


Clay did come out of his bed several times to stand at the foot of our mattress, finally I woke up enough to ask what he needed, he said he couldn’t sleep. My bladder had awoken me, and I had already started dressing to go to the out-house again, and asked him if he needed to go too. He said yes, so we went. At this point the out-house that is snuggled off a short trail in the woods, might as well have been up a 50 foot climbing wall as far as accessibility was concerned,and there are no lights inside of it, so you better hope you have a flashlight. or you will be groping around in the spider infested outhouse in the dark. And there was quite some nice specimens of wolf and daddy long legs hanging around (literally) in there. That must have worked for Clay because slept the rest of the night.


Naturally, our toddler, who is still nursing refused to take to her crib and insisted she stay physically attached to me all night. And then the air mattress must have sprung a leak (at a seam most likely) because it kept deflating in the night, and it turns out that I wake up when my hips or shoulders press against a hard floor at night, of course moving off the air mattress to deflate it requires waking the toddler/baby, but the husband was already awake.  We re-inflated it 3 times. Then the toddler/baby and I moved up to the couch to sleep. The couch is only 4 feet long. At first the cushioning felt good, but then the crick in the neck and the cramping of the legs get you. I was up and dressed before 6 am. I had given up on sleep and also on this trip. We were not going to managed this trip if I couldn’t sleep.


So I made muffins, and packed up, and as the children got up they were mostly happy to hear that we were going home. By 8:30 we were finishing cleaning up and headed up to the lodge to let the staff know we would be going. They were just getting done with a morning meeting and made check out painless, handed us back the health forms, the ones that were supposed to have doctor’s signatures, and did a quick cabin check.


We then called our boys and troop leader to let them know we were not staying. Luckily, both the 12 and 14 year old scouts were having a great time.

After the 2 hour ride home, I put away the food and slept for 4 hours. All the kids crashed before 10:30 tonight, I look forward to more sleep. I don’t like to give up, I don’t do it easily, but while lying in my own bed, all that ran through my mind before I fell asleep was “There is no place like home, there is no place like home, there is no place like home.” And I clicked my heels together 3 times.

Saturday, August 16, 2014

Toddling Through Demolition Zones

"I've been to Jr High, and you can never pay enough to go back."

I have heard that quote or ones like it several times in my life. Today was a day like it.
"I have been to hell, parenting young, over active and extra destructive children, and never wish to go back."

But today, just like when one has a minor heart attack, walking back through the halls of the Jr High they went to, I tasted it again.

My first child has autism, and was extra tall for his age. The second child was very happy to follow his lead for the first 4 years of his life. I lived in a demolition zone for the first 12 years of their lives. Every day they would find new and more creative ways to wreak havoc and permanent harm upon our domicile and all things in and around where ever they were.

As parents of the destructive whirlwinds, we were always trying to out maneuver their abilities, putting locks on doors (the one blocking the kitchen off was a key to sanity), building shelves 10 feet off the floor and giving up the concepts of ever having an intact door, dry wall with no holes, an un-ripped book, or un -shattered glass wear. This got so bad, that when we finally had a house built for us, we had drains put in every floor and wood boards put behind all the dry walls.

It wasn't until about 2 years ago, when the addition was built, that we actually decided the extra expense of the boards behind the drywall would not be necessary. It is really nice when your F5 tornadoes of children become teenage ready leaders, and are starting collage classes before they are out of high-school.

So, I still have youngsters, preschoolers, toddlers, babies. They have all been calm and happy compared to the first 2/3. ... However, my sister and mother somehow maneuvered so we would have her 3 young children today.

Hello Hell, I have to say, I haven't missed you.

We got a kiddie pool and sprinkler to help keep them busy. So they were running in and out of the house with buckets of hot water to help warm the pool. Not bad idea if you enjoy having a trail of wet sand through your house, from the side door, through the entry, the living room and the laundry room.

Then they got tired of it and wanted to play upstairs, so I some how found clothes for them all to wear (it turns out all their clothes, except their swimsuits were in grandpa's car).  And they went upstairs to play. A little while later one of the kids comes down and says he needs to go outside to see the results of the water experiment they were doing upstairs.

Which meant I had to go see what they were doing upstairs. They had ripped a hole in the bedroom screen and tossed things through it to the roof below them, and then commenced pouring water through the window, which in our house, allows the water to possibly be caught in the insulation under the window.

So I sent them all outside again and locked the doors. Of course they couldn't stay out of the kiddie pool. so soon they are playing mostly naked outside, having taking off the sets of, now wet, clothes I put on them. Then they decided to come inside and empty everything in search of the swimsuits they had on only and hour ago.

After they left the former contents of our sandbox in my bath tub, and the floor full of sopping towels, Grandma called. She was done with her meeting.

Even though I did laundry all day. I think the pile ended up bigger than it started.

Amy, I love you, and I love your children, But I have decided I prefer kid over kids, and I am really starting to like teenagers. Whenever there is enough of them to gang up on you..... you should at least be allowed to use a tazor, or tear gas (only I couldn't handle any more crying!). When I left the bathroom to grab them a towel I literally overheard Kira and Shannon plotting against me.

WOW, now I remember why whenever I tried to clean the house that the house would end up dirtier then when I started. I think I will keep my teens.




Monday, January 13, 2014

Soul Sucking

It is always fun, in a soul sucking way, to  meet with our financial advisers. Part of the fun is the fact that we have spent (and continue to spend) the vast majority of our time and energies raising our children. Among our 7 beautiful additions to this world are 3 that have special needs. Yes, we deal with autism, ODD, spinal bifida, mood disorders, the terrible twos and the dreaded teenagers on a daily basis.

 They suggest we hire outside help for the children so we can go and get a career. (Even if we don't break even on costs of career income minus a tutor for our children). Le Sigh... Of course that often seems to be kin to a major sin to refuse to perpetuate a broken system that values your contributions out of your home more then the contributions within your home.  Of course, when you make your money out of the stock and bonds system, anything that grow the economy is good for you. So if I get a job, and have to hire my job out and then drive through on the way hone because I am too tired to cook. It all adds to the economy (as it is counted), but subtracts from what matters most to me, my family. It just doesn't seem logical to do so. When I consider this scenario, I hear a life sucking sound, where all my efforts go to building someone else's coffers and not the one things that truly matter.

Everything we do is for our children. I just wish it could make a difference in the longevity of the world. Sometimes, other times I kinda look towards heaven and wish the end of the world to hurry up. But maybe that should be part of my equation. What good is a career and investments in financial markets when the world ends?

With what time we may or may not have left on the planet, should I not also consider that the economy as we know it perpetuates the destruction of the world? Without the desires for increased wealth would we not have made better decisions as a country or world? Would we not have possibly considered that we can't breathe soot or drink liquid coal and put tons of CO2 into the atmosphere with no consequences?

Seriously folks... you are worried about my retirement plan, instead of if there will be a world to retire on?

PS- I don't plan on retiring, I plan on working and building and learning and teaching and creating as much positive in the world as I can all the days of my life. I plan to prepare for the changes ahead and to ride through them with my family.

Wednesday, September 05, 2012

Busy Day

Wow, I have had a day.

Wednesdays are have usually been busy- but today has been very busy.

At 8am I had two parent teacher conferences, followed by picking CSA shares- then doing Clay's schoolwork with him. Laundry, lunch and running to Brainerd for my Bio Lab. Following 2 hours of learning how to use microscopes. Stop by cell phone shop to switch up to new phone (old one broke). Then the bank, grocery shopping, shopping at fleet farm (for bunny supplies and Galen's XLT shirts) then I stopped at Grandma Ruth's and Nathan's and helped them clean a window and see them off to the hospital again. Picked up some fresh picked corn and then Home again for dinner, tortilla making, more laundry, diapers, and 6 zuchinni cakes- I put several in the freezer for school lunches. Then study some chem, scripture study and a little time zoning to a show on netflicks.

I have done enough today, that I wasn't even disappointed that we didn't do yoga. I have been up since 7 am and am looking forward to a good night's rest.

Saturday, August 18, 2012

Serve Pancakes at my Funeral

When I die, serve pancakes at my funeral
only don't call it a funeral-
it should be a Celebration of Life
have balloon and music- a live band.

When I die, serve pancakes at my funeral
And have that band play polkas and waltzes, jazz and tango,
let the children dance,
and get dizzy showing off to you.

When I die, serve pancakes at my funeral
with enough real maple syrup
that you too join in the dancing until you are exhausted and delirious
and the world is spinning and you forget about why you are there and just enjoy being.

When I die, serve pancakes at my funeral
and talk about me, if you want
I will no longer get the hick-ups
but talk about you.
Did I make a difference in your life?

When I die, serve pancakes at my funeral
make sure they are freshly ground whole wheat
have peanut butter and applesauce to smear on them.
For desert serve them with blueberries and chocolate chips.

When I die, serve pancakes at my funeral
Cry, if you must, I'll miss you too
for the few remainig seconds we are apart
at least it will only seem a short time to me.

When I die, serve pancakes at my funeral
Serve the pancakes with a smile
a smile that says to everyone "I love you" and
"You are important to me."

For that is what I want to be remembered for.

Tuesday, June 12, 2012

the archetype of mothering as transformation

"When a mother thinks about her experience in a truthful way, when she is honest with herself, she will see that the act of mothering is not one-sided. It is reciprocal. Once we appreciate that the mother/child dyad is mutually beneficial, we can change the stereotype of motherhood as burden into the archetype of mothering as transformation."

-Peggy O'mara (Mothering Magazine)

link to article http://mothering.com/peggyomara/inpirational/the-powerful-woman-as-mother

Thursday, May 31, 2012

Top 5 Things not to tell your Financal Advisors


5. That you want to add more children to your household, 6 is just not enough.

4. That you are investing in the future- that's why you gave up on birth control.

3. That the $40,000 college education is only an investment if it pays dividends and that the last person you knew who had that degree works as your sister's nanny.

2. That you don't even know what's inside the box they live in, but luckily your husband does.

1. That none of your real dreams can be realized under the current monetary paradigms, but you still have hope because you believe that the paradigms are changing.

Needless to say, I think they believe my reality check bounced.

Sunday, May 08, 2011

Neuro-typical syndrom

Happy Mothers Day!
And today I thank my kids for curing me of neuro-typical syndrome quite thoroughly.
Neuro- typical (think normal brained) people have strong imitation synapses. That means when they see somebody do something they typically want to imitate them. This is advantageous in learning how to hunt or what nuts and berries to eat, but so often this imitation often morphs into us wanting to have what others have and be just like everyone else. Of course none of us are just like everybody else, so we start pretending we are something we are not and make a facade of perfection. This "Facade of perfection" is neuro-typical syndrome.

As you may or may not know, in the autistic brain theses imitation synapses are very weak, these children don't just naturally pick all those unwritten rules of social engagement and usually are fairly clueless of what other people think of them. Of course these challenges reflect in the family functioning and pretty soon as a parent you have to give up and trying to be like everybody else- it just ain't going to happen.

Then we see that modern society is built upon an unsustainable systems and realize there are more then mental health reasons to exit the rat race.

Autistics are more likely to start a trend then to follow one.

Friday, February 06, 2009

Thank you for your presence.

Yesterday was my birthday! I am a whole year older and wiser too, then I must have been last year at this time.

People have (especially my mother) asked me what I want for my birthday. And you know, I don't really "want" for anything. The one thing I have wanted most over the last few years is now squirming on my lap and trying to eat my mouse. (and I'm not talking about the cat).

And I thank her for her presence. I was in great want/ need of her presence. And I thank you for your presence in my life. For all that you have done for me. For all that you have listened to me prattle about my newest acquired knowledge and daily challenges. And for being there and caring about me, and letting me hang out with you.

Your presence means more to me then stuff. Thank you for being present.

Sunday, January 25, 2009

conerning women and economy

In Dr Suess’s “The Lorax” the oncler uses the following phrase “business is business and business must grow, regardless of crummies in tummies, you know.”

I have often contemplated that phrase and it’s implications on the environment and economy. But now I have begun contemplating it’s implications on families.

I have determined that businesses do not have to grow. That if they can make a consistent profit, it should be good enough, and that to grow a business should be a conscience choice. However, businesses that use debt financing are forced to continue growing to pay of the ever increasing interest and investment. And that is often why business have to keep “biggering and biggering.”

(ok, off track, back to families) To have a higher standard of life.. (to enjoy life more, have more health, time, and experiences) are not tied to the economic impact we make. The problem with economics is that is measures money changing hands. It does not measure success, happiness or family unity. Therefore holding the Gross National Product (national economic numbers) as the indication of how well a country is doing is very misleading. It seems to suggest that anyone not earning or spending is not valuable, therefore the traditional roles of women and families get pushed away in favor of increasing the GNP.

Traditionally all the work women do (the cooking, cleaning, sewing, child rearing) were not counted in the economic figures. When women decided to get jobs and add to the GNP, not only did their wage add to it, but the money they paid out to daycare, to fast food, to housecleaning services all added to the GNP too. But just because they increased their impact in economic terms does not mean that they increased their standard of living, or their happiness.

Housecleaners, daycares, nannies, quick and easy foods, only in semblance replace the value of the women’s work in their homes, but the true value and power of having all of that unified into a nurturing and loving whole is missing. Homes loose their drawing power and families forget why they are.

As the nourishing food and family time get pushed aside, the crummies in tummies (and hearts)happen to our children and to ourselves. As a women and mother I have made the decision that my economic impact pales in value next to the hopeful, joyous eyes that look to my guidance everyday at home. No successes outside of the home will ever replace failure (for lack of being there) in it.