Whoops...My Mistake!

When Rebecca was 3, she was very curious about bugs and assorted small animal life that visited my small yard. Together we examined intricate spider webs, snails, and other tiny creatures of beauty. One day we went swimming in my landlady's pool in the adjacent yard. and we found an inch long lizard dead in the pool. Rebecca and I sat on the steps while I held the baby lizard in the palm of my hand so we could really get a good look at it. It was perfect in every way, except, of course, it was lifeless.

"Can I take it home, Bama?," Rebecca asked. "Sure, honey." I set the lizard aside on top of a brown leaf on the cement by the stairs of the pool so I wouldn't forget it. We finished our swim, dryed off, and I carefully carried the lizard in my open hand to my apartment.

Rebecca and I searched for a small box. I found a little gold Macy's jewelry box with cotton padding. I layed the lizard down on the padding and then I Scotch taped the box shut. I put the box in her diaper bag then I promptly forgot all about it.

An hour after Rebecca went home I got a worried phone call from my daughter. With alarm in her voice she said, "Mom, what the heck...?" I tried to explain. I told her we know the lizard hadn't died under unknown circumstances. "For cripes sake, the lizard drowned. He didn't die of a disease or anything." Rebecca loved it, that's all. She found it beautiful and so did I. But I guess I scared my daughter. So now I have a rule: No dead animals or insects should be sent home without warning my children first.

Family Reunion-37 Years After Campland

The kids in this picture belonged to my three older sisters and I. At 24, I was pregnant with my youngest during this camping trip.  My son, the boy in the red robe is 39 years old and the father of two now.          

Thirty seven years ago, in 1973, my  sisters Sandy, Lois, Joan and I decided to take all of our kids camping on Mission Bay in San Diego for one week. We had 8 kids between us, all age10 and under. No men with muscles, just our wits and cunning to help us survive.

We didn't really know what we were doing. Our father and mother drove down to help us get set up. My dad and I put the huge green Army surplus store tent up with pegs in the ground. None of those new cool tents with the bendable poles for us. My mom brought delicious homemade pies and cookies. We were exhilarated and happy to be together.

We didn't have enough money or food. We especially had no idea how much 8 children could eat when faced with the fear of hunger. Our trip to the store for supplies cost a fortune, yet we seemed to have mostly Mac and Cheese mix, Cheerios, coffee, milk, hot dogs, and I recall, a hefty supply of Safeway Truly Fine toddler sized disposable diapers. It only took a few days for the kids to realize that whoever was fast enough got the most. My son, at 2 1/2, began stealing cut up hot dogs from my sisters' plates. He'd lean over, pause with his fork in the air, then dive down to grab the meat and swoop it into his little mouth.

It was hard to control the group. The older kids began acting as a mob. We bought them a bunch of little plastic parachute men. The older children disappeared for a short time, and as we found out later, they had climbed a tower by the camp store, leaned over letting the teeny parachute men drift down to earth. The upshot was that they got yelled at and kicked out  of the tower. To hear them tell it, they were banned for life.

My sister, Joanie, is a compulsive cleaner. She began sweeping the dirt under the picnic table and that covered our whole camp site. Over and over she swept, but still our area became filthy after every meal. Joanie washed the table repeatedly, with no lasting result. We scrubbed the kids and their hands with soap and water. This was not so easy, because the spigot to get water was on the same utility pole as our electric source. Not such a swift idea. My sisters and I had to be vigilant that none of the babies were electrocuted. One did catch impetigo on her cheeks and neck, however.

The little kids and babies were safely tucked into sleeping bags in the tent by 8 p.m. My sisters and I sat by the campfire drinking red wine and laughing, telling stories, and listening to music. We let the oldest, Heather, stay up with us for awhile because she was 10 years old and no longer a baby. By 10 p.m. teams of Fascist inspired campground men drove by in beat up golf carts telling us it was time to go to bed-Quiet down, shut up. We couldn't believe it. Who the hell did they think they were? But we were mildly tipsy and massively tired, so we went to bed. My sister, Sandy, on crutches couldn't get into the sleeping bags on the ground easily, so she slept in the back seat of her big wood-paneled station wagon.

I think we swam in the bay and lounged on the beach, but I can't remember that at all. I remember all the work, dirt and exhaustion. When the babies in diapers woke in the morning, the stuffing in Safeway Truly Fine diapers long since separated from the plastic, had gathered into wet, urine soaked wads into the feet of their fuzzy sleepy suits. Filling up 8 little bowls of cereal and 8 small  glasses of orange juice, my sisters and I silently came to a consensus. Originally we had signed up for 7 nights, but we knew when we were beaten. Waving goodbye to Campland on the sixth night, we packed up, taking all of us, mountains of dirty laundry, and the 8 kids to a motel. We all showered, went to a laundromat, then to an "all you can eat"  buffet restaurant that served cheap steak and baked potatoes. Sleeping in rows together like little logs, all of us  finally slept soundly with full stomachs and clean pajamas.

This past weekend, we met again in San Diego for a family reunion. Some of us were missing. My daughter and her two girls couldn't come because the new darling baby screams her head off in the car. Too miserable for the baby and my daughter. Next year though...I've promised my oldest granddaughter, 5,  a tandem ride on her pink Boogie board.

Our parents are gone now. My oldest sister, Sandy, died 5 years ago of breast cancer. Sandy's girls came with their kids. Her daughter Cindy wore a necklace that held a tiny amount of her ashes. I brought part of her as well by making her super delicious fruit dip.

Joan's boys were both far away, one in Maui, and one in New York. My cousin Gail and a new boyfriend came plus her sister Elizabeth joined us with her daughter, Laura, and her two darling sons we hadn't met. We celebrated my son's little girl, my granddaughter's first birthday, surrounded by all these people and more, a wonderful new husband and stepson, maternal grandparents, a daughter in law's fun, spirited sister and husband, and more. All the kids played, danced, and ate together, getting wild with too much sugar, but content to be a member of the same big tribe. What I wanted the most from this party was for the kids to know their cousins and aunties. I wanted them to feel the security and love of an extended family.

All of the kids in the beach picture are grown now and busy with their own lives;  a television producer, a lawyer, a teacher and campus minister, a teacher of blind children, a social services worker, a public relations director, a entrepreneur and baker, a school bus driver and photographer, and a very talented elementary school teacher. Between them another 8 children have been born. When they talk about Campland, the kids remember nothing but complete fun and freedom.

 

I sat back for a moment watching everyone interact. It has not been all rosy. There have been tensions and fights, hurt feelings, and times of not speaking. But I am so grateful to have had this time for all of us to be surrounded by a big, noisy and loving  family. So grateful and happy it continues on.

The Height of Cynicism: Target's Use of "Free to Be" Theme Music

I am so damn mad. This afternoon I was sitting on my bed making a birthday card for my one year granddaughter, listening to The Food Network, when all of sudden, bam. I hear it.

"There's a land that I see where the children are free

And I say it ain't far to this land from where we are

Take my hand, come with me, where the children are free

Come with me, take my hand, and we'll live

                                                       And you and me are free to be you and me."

For a second I was hit by nostalgia. Oh, Free to Be. Awwwww. Then it hit me.  I had instant heartburn. I look up to see the Target advertisement is using the song to sell products made in foreign countries by women making .50 cents an hour. In our money grubbing, greedy culture where everything is up for sale, (example: Christo's majestic artwork ripped off on AT&T commercials), some  things are just sacred.  And I really hate to think that some 30 something advertising executive, who heard these songs for the first time as a little kid, probably from a feminist mother, misinterpreted the songs, and decided to use it to sell products that exploit people, mainly women, all over the world.  A company that exploits the labor of women as employees and in the manufacturing of its products, using a song about freedom?  Damn it. What is wrong with us?

For those of you who are unfamiliar, Free To Be, was a children's album from the 1970's. It was produced by Marlo Thomas and the proceeds would benefit the Ms. Foundation for Women. The songs were written and sung by many famous people like Harry Belefonte, Mel Brooks, Michael Jackson, Rosey Grier, Carol Channing, and others. All the songs had a message for children about men and women being equal, doing what they desired in life, and treating everyone with kindness and tolerance. I raised my kids with it, as did all my sisters and friends. We were true believers-we wanted a new, freer, and better world for all our children.

I know I sound a little irrational to be so upset, but for God's sake, you and I have been watching the Gulf Coast for the last 90 odd days,  people, eco-system and animals, being destroyed by corporate bastards who find absolutely nothing sacred, but profit.  I've been working up to a slow boil about the trashing of our culture by people who care nothing about anything except money. The British Petroleum ecological disaster is the prime example in our lifetime.

Well, feminism is sacred to me. Idealism is sacred to me and social justice too.  Those songs were about letting people do what they want in life no matter what sex they are. The songs are about equality between men and women, showing emotions, sharing parenting and housework, about tolerance and choice to live our lives as we see fit. To see them used by a corporation who came in busting unions and paying minimum wage, who buys products from companies who run sweatshops is just too much.

To put it in historical context, the 50's and 60's  most girls were told to focus on their looks, be good listeners, and to make boys feel good. They were told to be good girls and to take care of others rather than themselves. When I grew up, newspapers featured classified ads had two classifications in the paper. One said "Jobs-Men" and the other, "Jobs-Women."  My first day of college the PE teacher, a woman, said to my all female classmates, " I know you are all just here to get your Mrs. degree." 

I never saw a man pushing a baby stroller or changing a diaper. I never witnessed  a woman doctor or dentist or a male elementary school teacher at work. None of my friends verbalized the desire to have a career. When I was 11 I told my friends I wanted to be a lawyer. We were walking down the street when I said it. My little gang of girlfriends all stopped, turned around to look at me. One of them said, "Girls can't be lawyers." I was dumbstruck.  I hadn't realized until then that was a weird thing to want. I don't remember what I said in response. I do remember it clearly because it's frozen in my memory as a defining moment.

When I was a young mother, in the early 70's, the "women's" magazines  like Redbook began to feature articles by Gloria Steinem and Letty Pogrebin, Marlo Thomas and Betty Friedan, discussing the unfairness and inequality of our culture towards women, how constricted their lives were, and how these expectations and limitations caused unhappiness, frustration and poor economic outlooks for one half of the population. It was so exciting to be on the forefront of social change. We were sure things would be better for kids.

Lordy, in the United States, forty years later and women still only make 79.9%  when compared to male wage earners. According to CorpWatch, Target's " image is more upscale, more urban and sophisticated, sort of a wannabe Pottery Barn,” said Victoria Cervantes, a hospital administrator and documentary-maker in Chicago who regularly shops at Target. “I’m not sure if their customers really are more upscale. But that’s the image they’re going for. They have a very good PR campaign. "

CorpWatch goes on to say, "In contrast to this image, however, critics say that in terms of wages and benefits, working conditions, sweatshop-style foreign suppliers, and effects on local retail communities, big box Target stores are very much like Wal-Mart, just in a prettier package."

Listen, it took me years to get over Beatles songs on Visa commercials. . This just makes my heart  and my head hurt.  Oh, Marlo and the Ms. Foundation, tell me you didn't sell the song to Target.   In the album, all the songs had messages for children about gender stereotypes and how to avoid them. It had all the big stars singing songs about people's lives and how we can do anything we want regardless of sex.

Well, maybe that's the point of the commercial, eh?  Our own Supreme Court has ruled that corporations have the same free speech as humans. Tell me, how can that make a world better for children when companies have the same rights as a citizen?  Well, I want to use my own free speech while I still have it. I'm done with you ,Target. I won't spend another cent in your store.

I Love You More Than the Stars and the Sea

When my daughter was born, my son was just about to turn three years old. Randy was crazy about his baby sister until at one, she began to walk, talk, and demand her fair share of  attention from the world and from me. The sibling rivalry between them lasted until half way into their teens. (I take that back. It's still going on in a milder form.) For years neither one of them could walk past each other in a room without a comment, a jab, a waving of hands, a pretend tickle,  just enough to make the other scream, "Stop it. Mom, he/she is TEASING  me!"  They would demand that I take a side in all their fights.

If I wrote a little note in one lunchbox, I did the same with the other child.  At Christmas, I would stack all their presents into two piles on my bed, carefully counting and recounting how many they each would be opening so that it was even, so neither would feel slighted. I did the same with their Easter baskets...two Reese's peanut butter eggs, 1 rabbit Pez container, 3 yellow marshmallow peeps, blah, blah, blah. It is sad to say that all my scrupulousness was wasted.

Sibling rivalry is as old as Cain and Abel. I thought I was over the worst of it, but no. My two oldest grandchildren, Aiden 4 1/2 (my son's son)  and Rebecca 5 1/2 (my daughter's daughter), have begun the battle anew. We all went over to my son's to swim on Sunday. If I gave one of the kids a ride across the pool on their swim circle, the other asked for  three rides. I bought both of them new swim rings, one larger than the other because Rebecca is bigger. Well, she hated the one I bought her because it wasn't girly enough. It was red with flames, Aiden's blue with pink flowers. He relished the idea that Rebecca was coveting his. It made him love it all the more. 

I picked them both up from Castle Tales Camp yesterday at noon. The night before, I had carefully packed a picnic of homemade brownies, bought Capri Sun lemonades, cut off the crusts of the little peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and cubed fresh pineapple and blueberries. I was determined to have a day without competition. 

Rebecca brought her Barbie pink Boogie Board that I bought her for her 3rd Christmas to use in the pool. The other children, being Northern Californian kids, were enchanted and had never seen one before. They were all asking, "What is that? Is that really yours, Rebecca?"    Aiden was flummoxed.  They climbed into their respective car booster seats. Rebecca mentioned that Aiden's was really a "baby" seat. I said, "Listen up, gang. I don't want to hear the word baby anymore unless you are talking about your own baby sisters."  They both laughed. I knew it was headed south if I didn't intervene.

My own mother, even into her 80's, used to have certain things she would say to compliment myself or my three older sisters. Joanie was dubbed the "hard worker."   Lois was " so smart."  Sandy was  "so funny, so intelligent..."  I can't remember  what she said about me. But every time she started saying, "That Joan is such a hard worker," I 'd be arguing in my head, "Yeah, but I'm working full time and going to college full time and I am raising two children and...."   I believe I was 46 years old at the time.

You have different relationships with all your kids and grandkids. Some need a little of this and a lot of that. Aiden needs his confidence boosted. He always fights trying new things, then once he does it he loves it. I take him to the library and he loves tools.  Rebecca needs to relax more. She loves to curl up and have me read to her. She loves to make me laugh or to draw together. They are both so different. I've tried telling them I have enough love in my heart to love them  both "more than the stars and the sea."  (My daughter wrote that when she was 7 on my Mother's Day card). I barely got the words out of my mouth before they were talking about Rebecca's Boogie Board and by the way, "Um, Gramma, will you get me a Boogie Board, too?"

Yep, I promised him one for next Christmas. Just because I think he'll love it if I can get him into the ocean. I know I can't convince them that loving one doesn't take away from the other. It's time I stopped this nonsense of being so careful to be even handed, and yet I have no idea how to stop. Even as I write this, I can hear my son saying, "Do you remember anything I wrote as a kid?"

10 Ways to Nurture Your Child's Spiritual Life

     A teacher once told me that joy was the natural state of humans. He said in the beginning it's like our hearts are bright, shiny-clean mirrors. Then, once negative things in life happen, the mirror becomes covered by feelings of  worry, fear, anger, jealousy, etc.  There are some conditions in our environment that we can control that have the potential to continuously wipe the mirror clean for our children and ourselves. 

      Maybe you've watched as magical, happy small children you know turn into not-so-charming materialistic kids who have lost their spark of individuality and joyfulness. Wanting more and more stuff  stifles all the good qualities the child originally possessed.  Make no mistake, the cultural norms promote and take over a large part of your child's life. If you go to a really good church or temple, that can counteract some the cult of ownership, but I think mostly its  building a breathing space for your kids just to be. Materialism isn't the only cultural problem. Chronic rushing and busyness, loud music and TV, insane competitiveness, overfilled schedules, force kids to grow up too early, robbing them of their innate spirituality.

     My grandson, who is 4 1/2, has only been to two movies and has limited PBS Sprout exposure. On Saturday, Aiden went to see Toy Story 3. So yesterday I took him to Safeway where we walked the aisles. Little pictures of Woody, the cowboy, jumped out at him from every turn. Cereal boxes, cookies, videos, called out to him, making him want all of it. We bought a box of Rice Crispies with Woody's picture only because we were making marshmallow treats. Apparently there was supposed to be something Toy Story related in the box, but we never found it, leaving Aiden disappointed. As much as you try to keep children from being influenced by our cultural materialism, it's designed to strikes home.

     Here are some ideas to help you create a space that allows your child  to grow spiritually and develop a rich interior life.

1. Let them know there is something bigger than themselves, it can be called God, or it can be certain ideals your hold like Truth or Honesty. Something has to be bigger than them. You can use any word you like; Spirit, Creator, just don't let your child be the center of the universe.

2. Let them see you helping others in your community. Assisting neighbors when they are sick or in trouble, and showing kindness is great modeling. Especially let them see you giving without expecting anything back.

3. Give your children the time to dream. It's a gift to allow them periods of silence. Some quiet and solitude-don’t keep them constantly involved in competition, sports, TV, video games, etc. It robs them of their ability to think freely, to breathe, and to relax.  Contrary to the popular belief that being alone occasionally is problematic, it's important for them to learn how to think and dream. When I taught high school, the principal told the whole faculty, "Watch out for loners and report them to us."  I laughed out loud, thinking it was a joke. There has to be a middle way. Alone all the time bad, never alone, equally detrimental.

4. Show and teach gratitude- for everything from food on the table to a warm bed, beautiful flowers growing in the yard, to being grateful for a kindness from a stranger. You can say grace before dinner, use any words you like, but start saying it or ask the kids to say it.

5. Encourage their imagination in as many ways as possible. A chance to use their imagination-give them lots of art supplies, wood blocks to build, don’t tell them what to do, don’t praise the art or project, say instead, “Tell me about this.” They will.

6.Take them to Yosemite instead of Disneyland. Okay, you can take them to Disney a few times, but mostly take them out into nature and to appreciate beauty.  Have your kids seen the way stars look when you are in the mountains or the desert?  A full moon rise?  Appreciation for the miracles around them encourages wonder and awe in yourself and your kids. Get them outside, growing vegetables, go camping, look at plants, and point out the intricate beauty of frogs, bugs, and the flight of a hawk.

7. Exhibit peace and respect for others.Watch what you say and do in front of your kids-screaming at other drivers, calling people names are noticed. When you show respect, politeness to others, when you let people go ahead of you on the freeway and in the supermarket, your kids see it. Everything you say and do is noticed. If you don't want to hear it coming out of your 5 year old's mouth, don't say it.

8. Storytelling, books, and family ritual-Children learn from storytelling, both family and otherwise, borrow great books from the library, develop family rituals. This helps kids feel connected to you, their world, and the child's ancestors.  There isn't any culture in the world, except maybe ours, where the ancestors are not called upon to help them or remember them to bring them into community with their lives.  Family rituals can be as simple as praying together over meals or just setting healing intentions for others.

9. Be careful with movies, video games, etc. Children have their own inborn temperaments to be sure, but if they are exposed to scary or adult movies or games it harms them. Especially oversexualized or violent images have a terrible impact.

10. Be convinced of your child's innate sense of the sacred and their own spiritual centers. Children have moments of shocking awareness that are periods of grace.  Don't underestimate their intuitive, soulful knowledge.

     A few minutes ago, I went outside to clear my head and finish my coffee. Two small deer walked into the yard not 20 feet away from me. I could feel my heart jump a bit, lifting me up, cleaning the mirror again. I went to theology school, but I don't know everything about what we are doing here on this planet at this moment. I just know children's spiritual lives need nourishing and a sacred space to grow freely. It's the best gift you can give them.

Rebecca's Overnight: Making Gramma Martha's Caramel Corn

Rebecca came to spend the night last night.  Before she came I asked her what she wanted. Here are her replies:

1. Dinner? Mac and Cheese and Hot dogs

2. Movie? Ice Age

3. Activities? Reading, Art and Cooking

4. Snack? Gramma Martha's Caramel Corn

5. Breakfast? Blueberry Pancakes

6. TV? Berenstein Bears

7. Book? The Land of the Big Red Apple (Laura Ingels Wilder's continuing series, Little House, about her marriage and her own little girl, Rose.) It's a chapter book so we read 1 or 2 chapters after she gets into pajamas, brushes her teeth, and gets under the covers. I read it out loud to her.

Ice Age, the movie, was really good. When the viewer thinks Diego, the saber-toothed tiger, is dead, Rebecca's eyes got all teary and her mouth turned downward. I told her, "Don't worry, darling. The movie has a really happy ending or I wouldn't show it to you."  She loved the baby in the movie just as much as I did.

After dinner, I popped two bags of popcorn in the microwave. Here's the recipe:

Gramma Martha's Caramel Corn

1. Pop 3 1/2 quarts of popcorn

2. Pour it into a deep turkey pan or some other pan that is at least 4 or 5 inches deep and large.

3. In a saucepan put 1 cup brown sugar, 1/4 cup corn syrup, 1/2 tsp salt. Mix together.

4. Cook on medium heat until bubbly-cook for 5 minutes (lower the heat a bit so it won't burn)

5. Take off the stove.

6. Put in 1/2 tsp baking soda, mix it in (it will rise up to the top)

7. Pour the mixture all over the popcorn, mix it around with wooden spoon (it's really hot so be careful)

8. Place in 200 degree oven for 60 minutes (set the timer for 30 minutes at first and turn it all over again)

9. Take out of oven, stir into a large bowl, mix again, breaking up the big pieces. Let it cool.

10. Put it in an airtight container to store.

I let Rebecca mix the butter, syrup, and brown sugar. The rest is just too hot. Together we watched Ice Age and ate some caramel corn and drank lemonade. We had a great overnight. She fell asleep listening to me read Little House on the Prairie book at 8:15 p.m which is a record. Usually it's 10 or 11 p.m.

This morning we ate blueberry pancakes and drew pictures and painted. I particularly liked the drawing she made of herself, Aiden, Angel, and Ava wearing bright red clothing. I'll post it next time.We ran to Target for a quick birthday present and I brought her home at 11:30 a.m..

My house seems really quiet tonight.

Summer's Comin' : Be Happy

Well, Aiden and I had a horrible day. He wouldn’t mind me, he threw a bunch of play dough and his toys in the trash, ran away from me in the parking lot, blah blah blah. He said he didn’t like me anymore. Then with a smile, he said to me, "Are you mad?"  I said, "Yes."  With a grin, he tells me, "Be happy!"  It was so cute it made me laugh.

I couldn’t get him to sit on the toilet so I said, “Don’t you dare go to the toilet. I bet you don’t even know how.”

He went  and sat on the toilet and urinated, laughing the whole time. What a kid. It’s about darn time. When I leave now he always has to open the door for me and hugs me 3 times.

He seems very upset about all the transitions in his life-the end of school, new baby coming. I’m only babysitting him the next 3 days, then my son Randy will be home for the summer break from teaching.

The greatest thing about picking Aiden up at school is that when he sees me, he gets this huge smile with his dimples showing and he runs very fast and jumps into my arms, then he just holds me hard for about a minute before letting go.

It's almost summer so I took a few days off to go to my friend’s house on the coast. I didn’t see Aiden for 5 days. He's a boy who loves his routine and doesn't like it disrupted. When I picked him up at school today  he gave me the biggest long hug-he just held on. At his preschool, the teachers are bringing the toddlers over to the bigger classes so they will know the new teachers for next year, but it’s making Aiden insecure. His teacher, Miss Katrina, said Aiden is hanging all over her, clinging to her legs, asking her where she’s been if she leaves the room.

We go get his lunchbox, say thank you goodbye to Ms. Katrina and Ms. Daisy then walk to my car, get him into his car seat, roll his window down, and strap him in. We talk on the way home, we scream “stinky stinky" when we go by the sewer smell that lingers across from the hospital-rotten egg smelling-really hideous. Then when we get to Broad St., we turn right and I ask him how many buses are waiting for kids to get off. Usually 4. Then when we get home, he wants to climb out of his car seat by himself, then he always wants to pop the trunk to get out whatever I want to bring upstairs. When we get in the elevator he pushes 3, but I say, 392 coming up”

When we get off the elevator, he wants to open the interior door for me, then I use my keys to get in the door. We both take off our shoes, I put on the tea kettle and we sit down to decide what we are going to do.

Only two more days. I'm going to miss Aiden like crazy. I'll see him at least once a week , but still...it won't be the same.