money talks

Ah, carrot soup! Fitting fare for a destitute family of church mice, don't you think? Either that, or it's the terribly predictable Wednesday night choice of this demographically dull yoga-practicing, New Yorker-reading, Downton Abbey-watching mother and longtime Smitten Kitchen devotee (it's one of her latest recipes - the lemon tahini dollop is what grabbed me).

This morning on the way to school Frances observed that everyone she knows has gone on a ski vacation with his or her family this winter. Why don't we ever go skiing? Gabriel piped up, adding "or snowboarding at least??" This came just a couple of days after Frances asked me on our walk if she would ever have a horse, like some of her friends do. Or a gold bracelet with her horse's name engraved on it, like one friend in particular. No Frances, I don't think you will have a horse.

And this morning, I was a bit ragged around the edges with a cold and the residual effects of a madder-than-usual dash out the door, and I told Frances that many of her friends at school have a lot more money than we do, and not everyone goes on ski vacations every winter. In fact, hardly anyone does. It just seems like a lot of people do because you go to a fancy private school!

Oh, I do believe I became high and mighty, and lectured in a rather unhelpful way about how we are blessed with far more than most human beings on the planet, and how her school is great for SO many reasons but one of them is not teaching children firsthand about who all the different kinds of people are that live in our community. How could ski vacations and horse ownership be my second grader's peer group norm???

At one point she said pointedly and with a daring frown, "So I guess we're poor then." Buttons effectively pushed, thank you. I came right back swinging, about how we have so many riches in our lives (you may gag now): love, friends, family, plenty to eat (potfuls of carrot soup!), etc. "Oh, so we get to have breakfast and take walks together? Great, Mama." (Insert eye roll).

Really?? I loved my yogurt and fruit and granola this morning! I love our walks! But sure, yes - and this I did not say aloud - a ski vacation would be nice too.

The truth is, I imagine, not so much that she is comparing her possessions to those of her friends at school but rather that she is picking up on the provider anxiety that comes with new babies around here, the small panic that rippled through her parents when we discovered our second car required more work than it is worth the day after we bought a minivan, the little groans that come with certain bills. She seems worried, in a global, inchoate sense, that there won't be enough. And can you imagine? Shaking her by the shoulders and insisting through gritted teeth that we are rich in love and that's enough!! does not seem to be reassuring her.

Back when I worked on Fresh Air, Terry used to note how curious it was that people were happy to answer questions about failed marriages, past abuse, and drug addiction yet became offended if asked about their money. I can only begin to understand why I became so agitated this morning when Frances suggested we were poor and said she wished we had more money. All kinds of unsettled questions and worries - the dark, murky bottoms of which I cannot see from here - got stirred up in me.

Could it all have had anything to do with the call that I received an hour later, saying that Frances felt sick and needed to go home? She was suspiciously chipper when I picked her up in the lower school office. Maybe she needed reassurance of another sort (not the shoulder-shaking kind).

Oh Frances. There will always be enough.

favorites

Here are a couple of my favorite moments from this holidays-to-real life transitional week, during which Frances hasn't yet gone back to school, Gabriel returned to school on Wednesday, I returned to work on Thursday, and Mike is preparing to return to teaching on Monday:

Frances and I dropped Gabriel off at preschool on Wednesday morning and headed across the street to a cafe, where we bought special drinks, squeezed into a big, cushy chair, and finished reading the thrilling tale of The Mysterious Benedict Society to the very end. It took over an hour. Then we went for a cold, sunny walk in Eastport and mulled all the shocking revelations from the many finales over and over, until it was time to pick up Gabriel. Perfect, perfect morning.

Today I woke up and snuck downstairs to do a prenatal yoga video before the kids were up. Of course, that lasted about five minutes, at which point I heard them pounding their way downstairs. Gabriel rolled out a mat next to mine and did some of his own outrageous asanas, then fell quiet and watched the teacher on the screen for a while. Suddenly he said, in his best valley girl voice, Oh. My. God. Look at her butt. It is so big. (You may recognize that line from the intro to Sir Mix-A-Lot's timeless classic...he watched Jimmy Fallon and Justin Timberlake perform it - admirably - as part of their History of Rap series and thought that particular song was the funniest thing he'd ever heard).

It has been a blessedly gentle re-entry! And I am glad for it, since we are all in various stages of a persistent cold, and I do feel like clinging to all the time together we've had. Part of me is unwilling to go back to regular life, with its routines that take us in four different directions. Once we take the plunge on Monday and start kicking it will be fine and even good, but for now I am hesitating on the pebbly shore, reluctantly considering the chilly water.

Indulge my senseless clinging, would you? Here are some more favorite moments from the past two weeks...

work for the new year

So today, after ignoring the enormous pile of wood chips in our side yard that has been looking at me expectantly for the past two weeks (since I was the one who talked to the tree guys working at our neighbors' house and explicitly invited the chips to come and stay), I decided it was time to break out the shovel and wheelbarrow and get to work. Gabriel joined me and despite the fact that I am feeling rather heavy with child these days, at first it was all kind of great. We plugged on merrily, slow and steady, me with my big belly channeling the spirit of Ma Ingalls, or one of those domestic homesteading paragons we've all encountered on the internet, or maybe just the older Lancaster County farm women who seem to glow with strength and stamina whenever I see them at their market stands on visits. Surely they have all shoveled their share of third trimester wood chips?

Gabriel developed his own technique, sometimes digging deep holes in the pile with long sticks, sometimes hurling rocks at the pile, and eventually using a lacrosse stick to load up his wheelbarrow.

And then, about half an hour later ... my arms and back began to ache. The enormity of the job began to discourage. And Gabriel, who had wandered into other parts of the yard, suggested a story inside would be more fun. Yet I persisted, for a few more loads at least. And then went out later in the day to shovel some more. The pile compelled me.

This holiday break has been so lovely, filled to the brim with family and friends (pictures soon to come), and the last few days have focused on the wood chip-like work that we have been waiting til now to do, before this baby girl comes to join us in two short months. Ikea furniture assembly! Hand-me-down sorting and organization! Even the enormous pot of minestrone I made for friends last night that had me chopping kale and potatoes into tiny pieces for what seemed like hours. It has all required a slower pace, a refusal to multi-task, a giving over to the sometimes tedious, sometimes soothing nature of work with our hands.  

It's been restorative. We've been working on it all together. Gabriel goes back to school tomorrow, I go back to work the next day, and everything will slide into a much faster, frenetic pace before I know it. So right now I am soaking in - as best I can - the stillness, the starkness of backyard birds on bare branches, the lingering hugs, the slow mornings in pajamas. The extraordinary pleasure of being our family of four, before we grow and change once again!

Happy, happy new year to all of you. May 2013 be filled with peace, health, and joy in your homes and in your communities. I do think it's going to be a good year.

pre-dawn confession

It was a dark and stormy night. Well, not that stormy, but it was dark, owing to the bizarre power outages in Annapolis last night (it always feels ominous when this happens, our new normal). And out of the inky blackness, after many hours of waiting, came my knight in shining armor. Which is to say my husband, wearied from fighting off a cold and the accumulated hours spent in icky car dealerships, and he was driving a shining silver minivan.

We did it. After many days of deliberations, research, money talk, values talk, and test driving, we said goodbye to our trusty little Fit and bought a minivan.

And at 4:30 this morning I was wide awake, wondering if the power was back on, wondering how I can possibly finish all the holiday preparations, and more than anything contemplating what it would be like to drive the kids to school today.

I'm thirty weeks pregnant, and if I didn't completely believe that this baby will soon be joining our family before, the enormous gleaming vehicle in our driveway makes it all undeniably real. She's worth it, yes? A brand new person, someone who I hope will, with her one unique and precious life, increase the portions of goodness and beauty and truth in the world? She merits a minivan.

Eventually the sun will rise and I'll get a good look at this thing. Happy Solstice, my friends.