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December 21, 2010

Christmas Memories

Posted by butterandtoast under Childhood, education, how we live, Reading and Writing, Uncategorized
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The headmaster at my high school would read “A Christmas Carol” every year. He was an older man with a beard like Santa Claus, who was quick to smile and compliment. When we were seniors, we were given the option of attending his reading (for the fourth time) or having the period free. We all attended. It was a tradition.

My parents would read ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas to us every year. I still remember the droll little Santa, drawn by my favorite children’s illustrator, Gyo Fujikawa.

But this post is a holiday shout out to my very favorite Christmas story, Truman Capote’s “A Christmas Memory”. My colleague and friend, Joe Scotese, reads it in his English class every year, and dozens of his former students, squashed together with his current students, cram into his classroom to hear him read. This year was Joe’s last reading, which makes me sad: Joe is a gifted teacher who infuses his love of literature into everything he does. But if you’re in the mood for a little nostalgia and sentimentalism, you can read the story yourself. The full text is available here.

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!

 

December 21, 2010

Intentional Parenting Tenant #2: Sincerity

Posted by butterandtoast under growing up, kids, parenting, Uncategorized | Tags: , , |
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This is part of a series. To read the first post, which discusses the origins, click here.

◊

Air Canada sponsored a holiday flash mob this week. It was a way to get travelers into the holiday spirit and, I am not embarrassed to admit, it made me cry a little. Flash mobs are emblems of sincere joy and unabashed enthusiasm; they stand in stark juxtaposition to the cynicism, aloofness, and indifference which pervades our media and pop cultural influences these days. Members of flash mobs say, If you’re happy and you’re not too cool to show it, clap your hands. And it warms my heart.

There is certainly a place for cynicism. Astronaut David T. Wolf once said that “idealism is what precedes experience, cynicism is what follows.” And I suppose that the world needs realists. How else can we act with intention if we do not fully understand the needs of an imperfect world? But, while years ago cynicism was closer to a sense of caution and realism, today cynicism is a philosophy and almost a sport.

I watched A Charlie Brown Christmas with my two-year-old the other night. He loved the music and Snoopy, and I loved the message. I don’t think I’d paid attention to it much in the past, but Charlie Brown’s earnestness in directing a serious Christmas pageant, picking an authentic Christmas tree, and considering the meaning of the holiday season, is so rare. Earnestness is thought of as a silly character trait in a world of Wikileaks, cable news, and non-stop advertising. An earnest person seems naive, or just unable to play it cool.

It’s hard to wear an ironic t-shirt if you’re earnest.

Judith Acosta wrote a really articulate article this week called Narcissism: The New Normal? in which she links the decision of the psychiatric diagnostic standards manual (the DSM-V) to remove the narcissistic personality disorder from its roster to the pervasive narcissism we experience on a daily basis in the form of public cell phone conversations, meals interrupted by Blackberries, and Twitter being Twitter.

Acosta argues that “a trend of unrestrained entitlement and narcissism…has undermined not only our expectations (of each other, of government, of business, of life itself) but the natural order of family structure.” Her larger point involves the repercussions this cultural shift has on children and parenting, but I also think that the contrast between how we relate to one another today versus, say, fifty years ago, is shocking: When the focus of energy was on other people’s needs before our own–in the form of, say, prescribed manners and civics classes–people tended to behave more sincerely and less cynically. Think of Leave it to Beaver. We would call that show cheesy now. And yet people were entertained by it because it struck a chord close to what they knew and valued: Straightforwardness, sincerity, earnestness.

Believe me, I know the ’50s wasn’t all poodle skirts and milkshakes. But it was a time where people were often forced to consider other people’s needs before their own: TVs couldn’t record shows, so everyone had to agree or compromise on what to watch, most families had one car so schedules had to be coordinated, and people talked to each other far more than we do today. There were fewer distractions and diversions, so people talked.

On Conan O’Brien’s last night hosting The Tonight Show, he implored his audience in the following way:

“All I ask of you, especially young people…is one thing. Please don’t be cynical. I hate cynicism — it’s my least favorite quality and it doesn’t lead anywhere. Nobody in life gets exactly what they thought they were going to get. But if you work really hard and you’re kind, amazing things will happen. I’m telling you, amazing things will happen.” 

As much as I never thought I would take parenting philosophies from a man who wears a pompadour, Conan articulated something that is important to our core happiness. And, above all else, we want our children to be happy; and it is hard to be happy when you are unhappy all the time. I mean, that kind of goes without saying, but that is was cynicism is. It is an attitude of “scornful or jaded negativity, especially a general distrust of the integrity or professed motives of others”(thefreedictionary.com).

Distrust the media. Fine. Scorn the laws you don’t agree with. Okay. But don’t distrust the kindness of a stranger helping you with bags at the airport. Don’t scorn the Christmas gift that isn’t exactly what you wanted. To be happy is to be kind in your actions and your thoughts. Usually one is harder than the other. But sincerity is to try–and to not be too cool to try.


 

June 18, 2010

Intentional Parenting Tenant: Teaching Gratitude

Posted by butterandtoast under Childhood, how we live, kids, parenting, Uncategorized | Tags: , , , |
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I have been wanting to delineate a list of values that can direct my husband and me as we raise our child. It seems easy, but it’s really not if you want to be intentional and specific about it. When I was studying acting, there was a basic exercise in which an actor would have to sit in front of the class and mime an activity that she performed every day. For instance, I chose brushing my teeth. And the goal was to be as specific as possible in one’s actions so that the audience could understand, not just what you were doing, but how you did it.

Afterward, my professor would ask questions such as, What kind of toothpaste does she use? What kind of faucet handle does she have? and, depending on whether the actor was specific in her actions, the students could answer that she had a tube of toothpaste (because she had to roll up the bottom to get some out) or that she had round knobs on her sink (because she used all of her wrist and fingers in a twisting motion). What I took away from that exercise is that specificity leads to better communication, which leads to understanding, which (hopefully) leads to implementation.

So I want to be specific about what I want my child to learn and be. The first tenant I am tackling is gratitude.

Gratitude

Each of the tenants I will write about have two goals for my son: That he be content in his life and that he make others feel content in theirs. And gratitude is the first step in this direction. This week, in The Huffington Post, Dr. Jim Taylor discussed the emotional impact that gratitude has on oneself:

Gratitude is such a simple, yet powerful emotion. In fact, one of the most surprising and robust findings of the growing body of research on happiness is that expressing gratitude has on one’s basic level of happiness. In a nutshell, when people express gratitude, they feel happier for several days. And, not unexpectedly, the recipients of that gratitude feel pretty darned good too.

And the impact it has on others:

There are load of upsides to gratitude. Aside from the happiness boost you get, gratitude has also been related to higher energy, a more optimistic attitude, and greater empathy toward others. And you make the people to whom you express gratitude happy. Gratitude also has survival value. When you express gratitude toward others, they’re more likely to help you in the future, thereby increasing your chances of survival.

Yet a growing number of people seem to view gratitude as a weak character trait. In sports, pop culture, and business, we increasingly value aggressiveness over politeness: I got mine, how are you doing?

When we get bad customer service, we are indignant (how dare he?) but when we get good customer service we are indifferent (that is his job, isn’t it?). I fall victim to this cycle of ingratitude all of the time. But it leads me to unhappiness, if only temporarily. And the higher road, the road of empathizing and respecting others, generally makes me feel happy when I choose to take it.

Dr. Taylor also discusses the role materialism and greed plays into the lack of gratitude we see so often:

The problem is that, by never being satisfied with what we have, we can never be grateful for what we have. And, by extension, in always wanting more, more, more, we feel unsatisfied and inadequate about who and where we are now. We need to step back and gain perspective on what we have. Compared to about 99% of the world, we have so much. We should feel fortunate, not wanting, for all that we have.

Source: ModernVintageHome

When I was growing up, my friends had to call my home phone in order to get in touch with me. There was something comforting about that for a parent–it allowed them to get to know their children’s friends and children had to learn to respect their friend’s parents. But it also made ownership of the phone crystal clear: To find me at my parent’s home you must call me on their phone. In other words, there was no misunderstanding about who was paying for the phone, and making my three-hour chat-marathons possible.  I am not saying that I realized this at thirteen years old, but there was a certain social construct in place that created clear roles between adults and children. And as a teenager, though I desperately wanted independence and autonomy from my parents, (the closest thing I ever got to having my own phone was a ten foot long chord that I could drag from the family room into my bedroom), in my heart I knew my limitations as a child and my parent’s responsibilities as adults. And with that understanding came an inherent gratitude.

source: Little Spring Design

Yet, today’s children have their own personal phones on which they can be reached whenever by whomever. They can personalize their home screen, download personalized ring tones, and fill the contact list with only their friends. And I’ve met and taught many of these kids who believe that a phone is their birthright. They believe that they need and deserve a phone, without much thought about the folks who make their texting and calling possible. The line between point A and point B isn’t as straight as it once was and therefore I don’t really blame the kids themselves. Besides, a teenager’s narrow worldview lends itself to a certain self-centeredness. It’s up to parents to teach them gratitude. It’s up to parents to limit the amount of “more, more, more” they seek. And it’s up to parents to remind ourselves that we are doing it for their long-term happiness.

I want my son to be as happy with a little as he is with a lot. There will be times in his life when he will have to make do with less money or possessions and my goal is that he can remain independent, good-natured, and confident during those times. On the flip side, I don’t want him to feel guilty when he is enjoying a fancy vacation or buying a brand-new suit–there is happiness in big rewards as well. Gratitude is contentedness, whatever the situation.

My friend, Leslie, made a CD of kids songs for her son’s first birthday. My little pal and I listen to it weekly, if not more (okay, much, much more). The last song is sung a cappella, and in a round, by a wonderful Chicago-based children’s singer named Susan Salidor. I don’t know if it is the simplicity of the presentation or the specificity of the message, but it sticks with me for days after I’ve listened to it. It’s now my version of a bedtime prayer with my son:

Every Moment, Every Day

It is possible to be thankful every moment, every day
It takes practice and humility
It takes vision and civility
It takes beauty and the wisdom
To see it every day.

I will likely post more on gratitude. It turns out to be the foundation of the values that I want my little pal to live with; yet it is also the most elusive. Gratitude doesn’t mean to just be thankful that you got a new shirt. It means to be accepting, empathetic, polite, satisfied, generous, and nearly everything else a person must be in order to be truly happy every moment, every day.

In an effort to help me sort out my own Intentional Parenting List, I’d love to hear from readers–what do you think are the most important values to teach children?

 

June 14, 2010

Good Day Sunshine

Posted by butterandtoast under food, home, how we live, kids, parenting | Tags: , , |
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Last week, Ain’t no Mom Jeans summed up the Environmental Working Group’s sunscreen research and recommendations. It was a lot to get through and a lot to understand. And, being a man of science, my husband was skeptical. He demanded to know the sources, methods, algorithms, and beaker size involved in EWG’s research. And to some extent, once I got to the punch line–that the only good sunscreens are upwards of $12 an ounce–I was skeptical too.

But the research is good research as far as either of us can tell. When I started reading nanotechnology statistics to my husband (Herzog method, anyone?) we both sort of called a truce. Because the real story seems to be that a lot of the risks are simply unknown. And, though I am a bargain-hunter at heart, reading evidence such as the following was disturbing enough to make me proud to plunk down a cool $20 for a tube so small it can fit in my back pocket:

In FDA’s one-year study, tumors and lesions developed up to 21 percent sooner in lab animals coated in a vitamin A-laced cream (at a concentration of 0.5%) than animals treated with a vitamin-free cream. Both groups were exposed to the equivalent of just nine minutes of maximum intensity sunlight each day (Environmental Working Group).

In this case, Vitamin A is in 41% of sunscreens, so a buyer has to be pretty diligent to avoid it. And how about this Fun Fact:

The Environmental Working Group tested more than 780 sunscreen products currently on the market, and found many contain potentially harmful chemicals which could be bad for your children. Among them: something called oxybenzone that the group fears could act as a hormone disruptor for your kids. At least 95 percent of the girls they tested who used sunscreen had the substance in their urine (City News Canada).

Great.

I can’t claim to understand the real and long-term impact of these chemicals. But I do know that cancer continues to be pervasive and proliferate, and rates of early puberty are also on the rise. It might not be the oxybenzone in my sunscreen, nor the pesticides on our fruit, nor the hormones in our milk. But it has to be something. That’s about as far as I’ve gotten. And that’s good enough for me.

Right now we are trying out California Baby simply because it is available at Target, making it one of the only convenient choices recommended by EWG. Expensive, but convenient. But, after buying California Baby in a panic, I looked up Neutrogena Pure & Free on EWG’s website and it seems to be a good choice too. It’s half the price of California Baby, so we’ll likely go with that in the future.

Below is a list from EWG’s Shopper’s Guide to Safer Sunscreens. Just be aware that many still have chemicals you may not want in your sunscreen. (Blue Lizard, for instance, has many parabens listed as ingredients, which seem no better than oxybenzone). I guess they like to keep us on our toes…our sun-burnt, chemical-covered toes.

BEST EASY-TO-FIND SUNSCREENS

California Baby – any sunscreen
Mustela – “Sun Cream” or “Sun Lotion, Bebe”
Mission Skincare – “Face Stick”
Neutrogena – “Pure & Free” or “Sensitive Skin”
Blue Lizard – “Face”, “Baby”, or “Sensitive”
Jason Natural or Earth’s Best – “Mineral Based”
Solar Sense – “Clear Zinc Sport Stick”
CVS – “Sport Sunstick”
Coppertone Water BABIES – “Pure & Simple”

 

June 1, 2010

The Power of Baking Soda

Posted by butterandtoast under home, kids | Tags: , , |
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Certain cleaning products always amaze me. Martha Stewart says to use vinegar on nearly everything–from stainless steel to bath toys–and because I pretty much do whatever Martha tells me, I have started to use vinegar as one of my only cleaning agents. As with most things, Martha is right. Vinegar is awesome.

But, while vinegar has won my respect, baking soda has won my heart. Here’s why:

Two weeks ago I came to discover that my little pal’s teeth were discolored. The two front ones–the ones that start off his happy little smile that brightens moods in every Kohl’s and Walgreens we step foot in. His teeth were streaked and grayish, with a hint of green. Of course my first thought was eww! We better brush better! But anyone who has every tried brushing a toddler’s teeth knows that, while the molars are pretty easy to get at, the front ones are like playing wack-a-mole: just when you land, they get covered up again.

Nonetheless, we brushed better and harder. But there wasn’t any improvement. On to my next thought: Oh, no. I am to blame.

This is familiar to any mother, I am sure. I started off thinking that maybe I wasn’t providing him enough calcium or Vitamin D in his diet. After a quick check of the labels in the fridge (Vitamin D Fortified! Calcium Enriched!) I started thinking that maybe I gave him too much multi-vitamin, or the wrong brand. And then I dug really deep into my Box o’ Guilt and thought that maybe it had something to do with my diet while I was nursing him. Or when I was pregnant!I am not a big meat eater. Maybe I deprived him of iron. And once I drank full-strength coffee in my third trimester. Could they be coffee stains? (Incidentally, this is the driving reason that  I abstain from nearly every deli meat, sushi roll, and soft cheese while I am pregnant. Obviously the baby’s health is important, but mostly I don’t need more excuses to blame myself later).

During this self-flagellation I was Googling like a mad person to find the error of my ways. As with any desperate medical internet search, I mostly found accounts of lifelong damage and rare diseases. Just as my eyes started to well up with tears, I stumbled onto a thread that suggested brushing the child’s teeth with baking soda to mildly scrape away the build-up.

I did.

It worked.

He cried.

I smiled.

 

May 18, 2010

The Babysitter Chronicles, part 2

Posted by butterandtoast under how we live, kids, post-30, relationships | Tags: , , |
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The thing about having a baby is you can’t avoid using babysitters. And the thing with babysitters is that they are almost always younger. Which means they have fewer responsibilities. Which means they are still wide-eyed and indiscriminately excited and happy. Which means they have great, shiny skin.

But the other night I was talking to my (other) babysitter, a twenty-something woman who is pursuing her dream of professional acting, and I remembered the not-so-shiny side of being right out of college with only opportunity in front of you.

It was as if I was talking to myself ten years ago. See, I, fresh with a theatre degree and Chekhov and Shakespeare roles under my belt, set off to become an actor, too. First in New York City and then in Chicago. My career included an extra role on Law & Order (impressive to my family; available to most NYC actors), an off-off-Broadway play (performed on 42nd Street; but really, really far west), and a national tour of a bilingual, musical version of The Little Prince (need I say more? Oh, wait, yes: it was performed for cranky highschoolers).

You could say it was a varied career. I spent most of the first three years I was in New York interning at my manager’s office in the hopes that she would sent me out on auditions. Instead, realizing I was over-qualified for stuffing envelopes and weighing for postage, my manager strung me along as an actor and used my office talents (I am a wiz at coffee orders) for as long as she could, until I grew up and grew wise(er).

When I moved to Chicago I thought a new city and a clean slate would help my career, but every show I booked (barring my last show at The Royal George) didn’t pay a dime. I found myself acting little and temping lots. It got old. I got older. And I switched careers (from acting to teaching) when I was twenty-five.

So, as I changed my son’s diaper and talked to my babysitter about her reservations about acting as a long-term career, I felt like I was talking to my twenty-five-year-old self. And I sort of started to. Which might have been awkward for her, but was pretty cathartic for me.

I wanted to tell her everything that I had done so she would know she was not alone in her struggle. I wanted to tell her everything I wished I’d done so maybe she would have more of an edge than I did. But, most of all, I wanted to tell her that, in many ways, life isn’t short. Life is long. And the decisions you make in your twenties do, in fact, shape a how long your life actually feels.

Maybe young babysitters have been sent to help me reflect on my twenties. Maybe babysitters are there to hold the mirror up to nature so I see myself more clearly and can then go on to be a better parent, partner, and person.

Or maybe I just need a night out without my kid.

 

May 11, 2010

The Babysitter Chronicles, part 1

Posted by butterandtoast under how we live, kids, post-30 | Tags: , , , |
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Recently I woke up earlier than usual to actually style my hair before my son woke up. I even put on foundation, which I really only do a few times a year. I can’t say why I did it; I just felt that I wanted to look put together. I had a dental appointment: I would be interacting with people other than moms and one-and-a-half year-olds, and I thought I should join the adult table with a little extra matte on my face and shine in my hair.

So, when I was judged based on how I looked, I took it a little personally.

I know I am not 20 anymore. I mean, I get it. Bars where I once used to have a few drinks now make me feel like I am a teacher, and the girls in the bathroom (reapplying cat eyes and texting from stall to stall) are  my students. This feeling is compounded by the fact that I actually am a teacher. And, as a rule, I don’t like to mix business with pleasure.

So, after my dental appointment, I met up with my twenty-one year old babysitter, who was watching my son at a nearby Starbucks. When I arrived, half of my face was numb from the Novocaine, and I was weighed down like a Sherpa with groceries. It wasn’t my finest moment but I can’t say it was anomalous as far as my stay-at-home days go.

When I arrived, two women, in their mid-thirties, came over and smilingly said to me, “You’re the mother? Oh, thank God! We were over there having our coffee and hating your babysitter because we thought she was the mother! She’s so perfectly put together and your son is so cute…we just hated her!”

Now, I almost let them off the hook when they brought up how cute my son is, but then the other woman had to go and say, “No offense.”

And that is when you know you should be insulted. It’s like a canary in the coalmine–no mistaking it now. No offense means I am saying something to your face that I shouldn’t be saying but now I regret it a little bit. It’s a backpedal.

I took offense.

When I was eighteen I played Heidi in The Heidi Chronicles (a better irony I do not now know) and I remember at the end of Heidi’s monologue, as she tries to make sense of the pressures women face in a lecture titled “Women: Where Are We Going”, she says, “We’re all concerned, intelligent, good women. It’s just that I feel stranded. And I thought the whole point was that we wouldn’t feel stranded. I thought the point was that we were all in this together.” Even at eighteen, I understood that feeling. And on this day I understood it in a different way, though likely closer to the way in which Wasserstein intended it. And it made me feel better, actually.

Because here’s the worst part–I understood what these Starbucks women were saying. For three reasons:

One, my babysitter is adorable. She wears skinny jeans with trendy boat shoes and doesn’t look like a homeless hipster. She has golden blonde hair and tosses it back in a ponytail straight out of bed and it doesn’t look like she should be committed. And she’s twenty-one. Period. Twenty-One is a good look on nearly everyone.

Secondly, I used to be my babysitter. Jeans and a t-shirt was a cute look, not a painting uniform. Shorts were short and didn’t make me look like a phys. ed. teacher. And now? It’s more work. Especially post-baby, post-thirty. I have to shop with my age in mind.  A horrible phrase, but it’s true. I need shirts with a bit of length to them (a strange phenomenon post-pregnancy: every shirt is shorter on me). I’ve put away anything with the word Lycra on the label. Makeup is not really optional, gray hairs need hiding… No need to list everything; what I do still have is my pride.

www.wordsaboutthings.wordpress.com

credit: www.wordsaboutthings.wordpress.com

And, finally,  I have had the exact same experience from their side of Starbucks. Sipping a non-fat latte, while watching a woman who is way too put together, and wondering, What the hell does she know that I don’t?

But the bright side is that if the woman I watched from behind my latte was in her twenties, she doesn’t know anything that I don’t. In fact, I am pretty sure I know a lot more. And I am happier now that I ever was when I was twenty-anything.

Cause here’s the thing–my babysitter doesn’t even have a real job yet. She’s graduated from a good college and is still trying to figure out what she’ll do and who she’ll be. And I don’t envy her. I’m not searching anymore, wondering about what my life will be like. That was stressful and scary and I am glad that chapter has ended. In an interview, the actress Julianne Moore once said that she would describe her twenties as “a puddle”, and I agree. It’s when you stare at a blank sheet of paper and can’t decide what to write. Sometimes you don’t write anything. Sometimes you write embarrassing, humiliating things. And sometimes you write things that don’t make sense later. And that is what your twenties are for.

So, I cut the Starbucks women some slack. We’re all in this together I guess.

 

May 8, 2010

Learning to Fly

Posted by butterandtoast under Childhood, growing up, how we live, post-30, To Do | Tags: , , , |
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When I was in high school, my best friend and I sneaked out of her house at night and walked around the golf course, looking at the stars (we were bad-ass like that). We were deep into Seal at the time and we sang the lyrics to “Crazy” at the top of our lungs as we waded through the damp, tall summer grass: In a world full of people, only some want to fly, isn’t that crazy? In a sky full of people only some want to fly, isn’t that crazy? Crazy…


Seal really knows how to drive home a point.

As we sang the words, my friend and I had a teenage epiphany–it is crazy, we thought, that we can all fly but don’t. We should get our pilot licenses this summer.  And fly to Hollywood. And see if The Peach Pit really exists.

Though our goals were a little ambitious, the nugget of truth, encased in solid ’90s pop lyrics, is an important idea that I still think about: There are plans we make when we are young with every possibility in front of us, but then we start making other plans along the way and all of the sudden flying seems dangerous,  The Peach Pit seems silly, and Hollywood seems cliche. We become more risk averse and more cynical.

For my 29th birthday I asked my husband for a flying lesson. Thirty was looming before me and we were talking about having a baby in the near future, and I thought, It’s now or never.

And then Chicago’s fall was too blustery to go up in the plane. And then it was winter storm season. And then I got pregnant.

So I guess it’s never. On the flying thing anyway. I knew the moment I saw the positive pregnancy test that my days of risk-taking-that-could-end-in-physical-harm days were over. I had a clear responsibility to my child that, first and foremost, involved being alive.

www.agdesktop.com

(I’ll admit that I entertained the idea again recently. But, being heavily influenced by fictional characters, I put my wings away forever when I saw Lost‘s John Locke had put his father and himself in a wheelchair on his first solo flight. I mean, John Locke is man of faith, so if he couldn’t make it past lift-off, my chances seemed slim).

However, there is a difference between physical challenges and mental challenges. I can’t say I’ve dabbled much in the former–a belly button ring at age eighteen…pregnancy…one time in NYC I moved an air conditioner across town by myself–but I’ve never been the marathon-running, mountain-climbing, master-cleanse-drinking kinda gal. I dislike feeling chilly, let alone physical pain.

But mental challenges I can do. Auditioning as an actor in New York City was as cruel and unusual as it gets in that department. Or, day after day, week after week,  standing in front of 34 eighteen-year-olds who’d rather be anywhere but my class, trying to connect Beowolf to their difficult, stressful urban lives. (I get sweaty just thinking about some of my first classes in the large urban school system where I taught).

Besides, physical challenges are so 2004, when Gwyneth was still macrobiotic and people still cared if David Blaine survived in his stupid Plexiglass box above the River Thames. If it weren’t for my husband’s obsession with reading the Patagonia Catalog like it were a lost book from the Bible, I would toss it into the recycling bin faster than I do my mutual fund’s annual report (am I seriously supposed to read that? it’s a phone book).

Physical risks out, mental risks in.

So I am starting a To Do list. The goals are mine, for myself or my family. It would be way too easy at this point in my life, with a lot of big details settled, to forget to set any new goals unless I write them down, get them out there, and think about them every now and then. Just like everything else, it’s a work in progress.

 

April 13, 2010

Butter and Toast

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s an English teacher, I have favorite words. Sometimes they are just favorites for how they sound: scurrilous, obliterated, velour. And sometimes for what they mean: hug, simple, moonlit. And then there are rare words that fall into both categories.

When my son was six months old, I was nursing him in the rocking chair and glanced down at his sleeve. He was wearing a cotton one-piece from Children’s Place; it was striped and too long on his little body– I can’t think of anything cuter in the world. Children’s Place had rebranded their infant clothes under the label Baby Place, so the label on his sleeve read just that. But in all lower case: baby place.

I stared and stared at the label, and thought about how wonderful life was since the birth of my little pal. I hadn’t ever been so happy. Every day was full of hope and joy and fun. And then it occurred to me that the simplest, softest, loveliest word in the English language has to be: baby. A perfect little word to represent a perfect little world. A world where needs are met, smiles are freely given, and enthusiasm pops up unexpectedly and more often than one ever thought possible.

baby

Isn’t it cute just to look at?

Whatever sentiment the marketing geniuses at Children’s Place stirred in me that day is the same sentiment that I want my son to feel as he continues to work his way (hopefully not too quickly) through childhood. I want his days filled with dandelion bouquets, balancing spoons on the tip of his nose, crabbing with string and a clothespin, and eating butter and toast with a sprinkle of cinnamon.

There is no greater happiness than that.

Life will get harder and less exciting. More mundane and worrisome. But if my little pal has a simple childhood filled with good things, I hope his essential blueprint will be full of big joy for little things.

 

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