cheers

tulipmania

I can't look at a tulip without thinking of Michael Pollen's delightful book The Botany of Desire in which he recounts the unbelievable tale of the tulip's history. In a nutshell: tulip speculation was all the rage in 17th century Holland (not unlike the speculative housing bubble of our current generation). At the height of the craze, single tulip bulbs were selling for ungodly, unimaginable sums & people were staking everything in order to purchase just one of these precious commodities. Until one day the bubble burst (a tulip failed to fetch it's asking price on the auction & the whole house of cards came tumbling down thereafter) & left many in possession of nothing more than worthless flowers & the shirts on their backs.

What amused me most about the tale was how in the aftermath of the tulip craze & bust there was a period of violent backlash against tulips. Yes, that's right. It was the tulip's fault. People were slashing tulips to the ground, mutilating stalks & tearing petals & getting even with nature for driving them to such folly. It was said that were it not for the great beauty of the tulip, men would not have been so foolish as to risk all to possess them.

I wonder that humanity has changed so little from these early days. I think about how many times I have heard various pundits proclaim that "we had no idea that housing prices would fall!" Reaaaally? -you had no idea?? -you thought quite seriously that housing prices would continue to rise exponentially annually forever??? -you've never seen a bust before??? Reaaaally? The selective ignorance is astonishing. Why smart people play dumb puzzles me.

gathering together

We've decided to sign up for a CSA share (Community Support Agriculture) for the summer & after visiting the Portland Farmer's Market & checking out the available produce from several of my options, I decided on a farm outside of Corvallis called Gathering Together Farm.

We are excited for the season to start in earnest. I look forward to the sense of surprise each week when I open my allotted bin. I am anxious to try new recipes & use vegetables that I've always considered buying but never quite mustered up the nerve owing to my lack of experience with them. Turnips & pea shoots & bok choi & purple potatoes! And then the summer staples, the tomatoes & peppers & basil & beans!

Needless to say, my own garden has taken something of a backseat ever since X came along. I simply haven't the time to maintain all the beds & many are choking in weeds or left to molder. I have started a few of the basics indoors as usual & plan to sow a few more seeds directly when the rains finally quit us. But I know the plants will as likely as not go unattended for the bulk of the summer & if I manage to get a decent harvest I will have luck to blame & little else. Maybe the influx of amazing & varied produce from some other farm will inspire my green thumb to wake from it's long slumber & I'll find the time & energy to once again plunge my hands deep in summer soil, but until then I will enjoy the fruits of someone else's labor.

maupin

We drove out to Maupin yesterday afternoon on something of a whim and somehow managed to score last minute lodging at the Imperial River Company. Miraculously, we squeaked in on the very last night of off-season rates. It was obviously meant to be.

The big, open sky was a blessing after so many months of heavy, valley cloud cover & X was pleased to walk out among the rocks & fragrant sage & test out his new skills (yes, he's walking as of 5/1, but he still prefers assistance -especially on bumpy, difficult terrain. God bless the child for knowing his limits!). I was hoping for a few quiet moments under a vast array of stars in the black wilderness, but X was a nightmare at bedtime & I was robbed of my chance. Better luck next time. ..

where's your tummy?

quiet corner

you don't say?

attitude

X doesn't want to go our way anymore. The change came without warning & appears irreversible. Our baby is gone & in his place is a willful, petulant crybaby. M tried to pick him up Saturday afternoon & for whatever reason X decided that wasn't for him. He threw himself forward, crumpling his legs & flapping his arms wildly, peevishly, all the while panting: "AH! AH! AH!" Tears would have followed shortly on had we not quickly realized what was happening & given him whatever he desired.

Ever since that moment, he has taken every possible opportunity to get pissed off at us. Sometimes he whacks me for no apparent reason, but just because he can. Like tonight as I nursed him to sleep. Out of the blue he smacks my breast & hollers "AH!," which I am learning is his way of telling me to fuck off. He's bit me a few times too, but usually just mischievously & without malice. He's testing every boundary we lay for him, and so we move them to keep him happy.

I knew it was coming, I just didn't realize it would come so swiftly & with no inkling the day before of what was coming down the pipes. I struggle to come up with an instant action plan. For now, my plan is not to respond to the vast majority of outbursts-just act like he didn't do anything out of the ordinary & hope the spell passes. When he screams & throws his avocados on the floor, I will quietly retrieve them & ask him if he doesn't want some pears instead. When he hits me & hurts me, I will tell him calmly that he hurt me & that it is not nice to hit others. If an outburst persists & threatens to turn into a full-blown tantrum, I intend to honor his feelings insofar as I am able by asking him why he is angry & by trying to help him resolve his issue. I intend to pick my battles carefully. Safety issues are non-negotiable, but almost everything else is up for grabs. I am no rules stickler. I plan to slow down & allow more time for everything. Being in a hurry makes everyone miserable. I will respect his special little person-hood, despite the fact that he lacks reason much of the time. I empathize with his helplessness & frustration at times. It must be a bitch to be so dependent on others for everything, to have no real autonomy, privacy, or right to decision-making power in your life. It is much harder to be 13 months than it is to be 35, and so I need to have a whole lot of mercy.

I expect I will lose my cool often enough, especially seeing how hard it was to maintain when my perfect, docile, smiling, little angel tested me with a few sleepless nights. That guy was easy compared with the new arm-flailing screamer who replaced him.

chance encounter

I ran into one of the midwives who attended X's birth at Por Que No this evening. She bustled past me at the front door with a toddler in tow, took a seat & as I followed in & found a table near her we eyed one another surreptitiously until recognition dawned. She came over right away, shook my hand & asked how we knew one another. I told her she had attended one day of my four day labor. She asked me how I had healed from the whole experience & I could not escape telling her that I was still emotionally tender. She advised me that often women make appointments with the midwives many months on, simply to discuss their experiences & hopefully find healing through dialogue. We discussed briefly the possibility of attempting a VBAC, and it occurred to me in that moment that I have a long way to go before the idea of trying again doesn't terrify me utterly.

A part of me wants to throw caution to the wind & try for a home birth. But the odds of uterine rupture, while incredibly low, give me pause. I don't want to risk my life, or the life of my future child, simply in order to achieve a desirable experience. I wonder whether it will be possible to assess my odds for success as the time draw nearer & thereby make a more informed decision. I would consider arranging concurrent care, say, have a midwife prepared to attend me at home & also a hospital midwifery team on call, like that at OHSU, & I can make my determination on the fly. Clearly, I have a lot of research to do before I can come to any conclusions. I'm not in any hurry (another year at least?), but if I have learned anything this last year it's how quickly time can fly by when you're not paying attention. I might want to start investigating earlier rather than later...

Obviously I need to consult with someone more in the know. I just have no way of assessing my risk or understanding what VBAC entails. I have read somewhere that many hospitals require an epidural just in case an emergency c-section is required, and that notion offends me. I tend to believe that preparing for the worst, while potentially prudent, can often induce the very outcomes one hopes to avoid.

good praising!

We've been video-chatting with M's mother on occasion, or at least as long as X can abide it (which isn't long -I think the talking computer screen sort of freaks him out). Most recently, we were showing her X's newest tricks (where's your shirt? -where's your tongue? -what does a sheep say? -and so on). She gushed: "You guys realize he's reaaaaally smart, don't you?" I stifled a laugh, because in my opinion being able to stick out your tongue on command at 13 months does not necessarily indicate a budding genius. After all, Einstein himself (his name a virtual synonym for genius) did not speak at all until well into his toddler years. I replied that all babies develop at different rates & I did not think there was any reason for me to assume he is possessed of superior intelligence based on anything I've seen from him to date. She did not want to accept my dismissal & continued to insist on his obviously amazing intellect. Not wishing to argue with her, I asked her instead if she wouldn't mind "keeping his smarts on the DL" since as we all know, being told one is smart repeatedly can have negative unintended consequences. She took my point & we thankfully moved on to other less ridiculous topics.

I was referring, of course, to the oft-forwarded article that came out several years ago entitled "How Not to Talk to Your Kids: The Inverse Power of Praise." I may have posted a link in this blog at some point & I find myself returning time & again to the ideas suggested therein. The general thesis is that children who are told they are smart seek to avoid challenges lest they compromise their status as "smart." As the article's researcher states: “When we praise children for their intelligence...we tell them that this is the name of the game: Look smart, don’t risk making mistakes.” Similarly, kids on whom praise is heaped tend to work solely for the praise they anticipate receiving & not for the joy or challenge of the task itself. They become praise junkies, serving their desire to get more praise instead of their desire to explore, create & become. The praise becomes an end in itself, not the skills, hobbies, & challenges that once interested them.

This goes against all the basic assumptions that I held when I first ventured to try my hand at this parenting thing. I always assumed, especially with girls, that it was important to emphasize their smarts as opposed to their looks. I reflexively rejected punishment as a primary disciplinary technique & instead assumed offering praise for good behavior would substitute nicely. This article (and that works of Alfie Kohn in general) blew all of these ideas out of the water.

My mother was a big believer in praise when we were growing up, and she used it liberally on X when she was visiting for his birthday a month ago. She was a ringing chorus of "Good jobs!" until I finally snapped and told her, as nicely as possible: "Mom, life is not a series of 'jobs' at which one can be either 'good' or 'bad' at. It is far more complex than that." And I think she got it. She asked me almost immediately: "Well, what are you supposed to say when they do something cool?" And it's true: at first it can feel sort of awkward & empty when you stop praising, because of course you are proud & pleased when your child masters a new skill. But if you stop evaluating everything they do ("good job!"), you soon realize there are hundreds of other available ways to share your joy.

While I would love to ramble on, I'm out of energy for the evening. Please note, however, that some of the articles linked above provide more information on this subject if you are curious & wish to read further. If you have to pick one, read this one. Cheers!

lost moustache

he is risen!

...okay, I'm just joking. But we did go to church today, if you can believe it. We've passed this particular church a dozen times on our walks to & from Mount Tabor, and we've always thought about attending, just to see what it's all about. We figured Easter Sunday was as good a day as any to sneak in & out, fly under the radar, & generally avoid any big fuss. Unfortunately, there was no holiday hoard. There appeared to be about 40 families in attendance & everyone knew everyone else. Except us. The Pastors introduced themselves right away & informed us generously that children were welcome & no one would be bothered a bit if they cried, or hollered or ran around. In fact, they directed my eyes to a wide, open area near the front where kids were able to run about during services. There was even a box of toys to occupy them. There were lots of other younger couples with kids, as well as your usual assortment of blue-haired old ladies & even several gay couples.

I think we may return. It was theologically more traditional than I would prefer, but there aren't any Unitarian churches in our neighborhood & I think staying local trumps theology for me at this point. The primary reason we're interested in finding a church is to find a community of people that share our values. I am genuinely concerned that X have some sort of foundational background in the teachings of the Christian church, namely because my parents will surely attempt to evangelize him as soon as he is old enough to listen. I don't want him to be blindsided. I don't want him to think his parents aren't "saved" (even though we're not, according to how most idiots understand the term) I want him to understand that there is a way to be a Christian (a little Christ) that does not involve oppressing homosexuals, being careless about the created world & denying responsibility for the plight of the poor. I want him to learn about the real message of Jesus, as opposed to the misunderstanding that has passed for Christianity these many centuries.

childhood revisited

We dyed Easter eggs today & I had more fun than I ever did as a kid. I am not sure why that is -and it could be I am not properly remembering things. I think I generally conceive of my childhood as somewhat stressful, so it is hard to divorce individual events from the dismal fog that hangs over most of my memories.

I remember in particular the Easter when my great-grandmother died at the ripe old age of 99. Legend has it I was upset that she died, but not because she was dead, but because she died on Easter & thereby ruined it. Not my most kind & generous moment, that is certain.

When I was a kid, we would dip the eggs one by one, rotating them slightly to get variations of color in angled bars up the side of each egg. This time, we used Q-tips to paint spirals & crosses & shapes on the eggs before dipping them. I was sad we had only boiled a half dozen -I could have painted those eggs for hours.
X was less patient with the process, however. We gave him a pretty pink egg & after throwing it on the floor several times to hear it's delightful crunch, he plunged his thumb between the cracks & gave it a good squeeze with his giant, four-year-old-sized hands.

run rabbit

I'm searching for a way to give Easter meaning for my family. We don't go in for the crucifixion/resurrection thing, at least not whole hog. I was beaten with the Bible too often as a child for me to be able to read it without a healthy load of cynicism (an instrument of torture cannot also be a force for redemption -at least not today). I have my own way of understanding what it means to be a "Christian" & it is completely untethered from the rigid forms it took in my youth (this is a subject for a hundred posts...maybe one day I will have the energy for it).

So there you have it. I am taking the Christ out of Christmas & Easter (& we may as well take him out of the 4th of July too, while we're at it). In choosing how to celebrate Easter, I am doubly burdened (as with Christmas) with the need to wrest the holiday from not just the realm of the religious, but the realm of the material. I don't want X devouring piles of candy & nasty little marshmallow Peeps every Spring. Oh, I am not opposed to the random chocolate here & there, but a massive binge is out of the question. How shall I make the holiday my own?

We decided Easter would be a celebration of the arrival of Spring, a welcoming back to life of the trees & plants & flowers, a benediction for the thirst-quenching rains of Winter & a goodbye to the cold & the wind. And for a special surprise I decided I would sew him a bunny. Who knows? -maybe it is the start of an annual tradition -I will sew him a different sort of bunny each year...until he's 15 & it is frankly ridiculous & embarrassing. I also tricked out a basket with a patchwork liner to house the bunnies & a batch of beautiful colored eggs.