Bookstore Guilt

Yesterday started off poorly, ended even worse and the part in the middle did little to make it any better. In an effort to save what little sanity I had left, I went for a drive. I thought about driving to Terra Fuego but decided, instead, to stop at a chain bookstore a few miles from my house.

Now, make no mistake. I fully embrace technology. I love my Mac and my iPhone. I adore my Kindle with a passion that verges on obsession. But, though I rarely buy a paper book anymore, I love bookstores. I love the smell of all those unread pages. I love the soothing quiet and the big leather chairs. The irony is not lost upon me.

I know that it is consumers like me that have contributed to the demise of so many bookstores. I look, I relax, and I enjoy but I don't buy. I browse with no intention of spending a single dollar. In fact, I have been known to spot a good read and go home to purchase the Kindle version.

Why do I do it? I don't have a lot of space for books and I read very quickly. I love all the free digital content. Also, it is easy. I can get what I want, when I want, any time I want.

Like all things though, it comes with a price. The loss of bookstores is tragic. Bookstores have a nostalgia that I would hate to lose. I want my daughter to love reading and books the way I do. Is that possible if bookstores go the way of the dodo? I don't know. But the next time I cross into the land of the bibliophile, I think I will at least buy a cup of coffee. If only to assuage my guilt.

Who Do You Admire?

          I recently applied for a writing position and, as part of the application process, I had to submit a short piece about a writer whose work I admire. I found it to be an interesting exercise and thought I would share it here. 

         As a junior in high school, I was assigned a research paper on the life and work of Rudyard Kipling. It was a life changing project. It introduced me to a lifetime love of Kipling’s brand of colonial literature. I love his unbridled optimism and his steadfast belief in a person’s ability to persevere and to overcome in even the most difficult circumstances. For me, the best example of Kipling’s prowess as a writer is his poem “If” written in 1895 and included in his book Rewards and Fairies.

Perhaps one of his best loved pieces, “If” is an exaltation of traditional British stoicism. From its opening lines, “If you can keep your head when all about you/Are losing theirs and blaming it on you” (ln. 1-2), the poem extolls the virtues of self-control and discipline. Kipling speaks poignantly of meeting all challenges with grace, saying “If you can meet with triumph and disaster/and treat those two impostors just the same” (ln. 11-12). It is a sentiment so elegant that it is carved over the entrance to the courts at Wimbledon. Kipling speaks of remaining humble, no matter your station, saying “If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,/Or walk with kings--nor lose the common touch” (lin. 25-26). For me though, the most touching lines are the two with which Kipling closes the poem which hold a promise for those who exemplify the virtues he espouses, “Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,/And--which is more--you’ll be a Man my son!” (ln. 31-32). 

While achieving success in his own time, Kipling is a controversial literary figure today. His views on imperialism as expressed in his works, while popular in his own time, draw criticism in our post-colonial modern era. Fortunately, Kipling’s works rise above the concerns of politics and, when viewed outside such a lens, show a master storyteller with an eye for creating beautiful detail.  It is fitting that Kipling’s poem “If” is sometimes compared with the Bhagavad Gita, a Hindu epic that is considered a guide for living. For me, Kipling’s “If” serves a similar purpose. He clearly defines what it means to be a “Man”--in this case, a person of honesty, integrity, and perseverance. I think it is these very qualities which we as people should all aspire to achieve.

Who are some of the writers you admire? Why do their works speak to you? Discuss!

A Love Letter

Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God. Matthew 5:9 (NIV)

"You're blessed when you can show people how to cooperate instead of compete or fight. That's when you discover who you really are, and your place in God's family." Matthew 5:9 (The Message)

For the record, I am not a peacemaker. I am easily frustrated by other people's seemingly ridiculous behavior. I say, if you want to act badly, fine--just leave me out of it. I have enough to deal with without adding your crazy to my basket.

My husband, on the other hand, is a champion peacemaker. I think his goal in life is to make sure that everyone gets along. The funny thing is, he doesn't have to be a peacemaker. At 6'4" and 280 pounds, he could easily get his own way with just about anyone. I have seen him silence a middle school hallway during a class change with a yell. I have seen him hurl a construction wheelbarrow from one end of our backyard to the other. I even saw him throw a yard tractor once. Yet, he rarely loses it and does such things. 

I am famous for my poor control of my temper. I yell, scream, and may even throw things. I sulk and pout. I hold a grudge. Yet, my husband, even faced with the most frustrating family behavior, gracefully tries to get everyone to play nice. In situations where I would say unkind things, he pours out kindness. In situations where I would run screaming, he wades in to help. The man is either a saint or a lunatic. 

I often find myself, as I have the past few days, marveling at his ability to put aside his own feelings and work toward what he perceives as the greater good. He willingly gives up time with his family to help others. 

I find myself in a strange position. While I love my husband and his peacemaking abilities, I can't help but feel a bit frustrated by it as well. Why do these adults need to put him in the position of peacemaker? Why don't they just stop the behavior and solve the problems themselves? Do they not understand how precious our time is as a family and how rarely we get it? 

It isn't easy to be a peacemaker (or the wife of one). Honestly, there are times when I'm not even sure if the frustration it causes is worth it. Matthew is right though. Peacemaking is a blessing and I love what The Message version of the verse says about peacemaking being a way for us to learn our place and purpose. I guess that is what I am learning by watching my husband. I am to be his support and comfort, his safe place in the storm of hurt feelings and cruel words. I must be willing to let go of my expectations and desires in order that he may be a servant of others. It isn't easy and it is frustrating and disappointing. There are times when I wish he would hurl things and yell and throw his weight around. Yet, he chooses the path of peacemaking. And in so doing, he shows us all the possibility for something better than that which we have chosen for ourselves.

All In How You Present It

My daughter has asthma, so any little sniffle or sign of congestion is a cause for concern. So when she started using a truckload of tissues today, I knew we might be heading for trouble. The question became what to do about it.

It occurred to me that I had the solution--my trusty neti pot. But how do you get a 4 year-old to use one? It is a strange experience to use a neti pot, even for an adult. How could I pitch this so that she wouldn't completely freak out?

Turn it into a game! At dinner, I suggested that I had a really fun game we could play to get rid of her stuffy nose. I just knew that she would love to play The Nose Game! Everyone at the table joined me in explaining how much fun the game was. She was so excited when we got home!

She insisted that I go first so I could show her how to play. I used the neti pot and told her how fun it was. (If you have ever used one, you know that it is decidedly not fun. Strange, yes, but fun? Not so much.) Then it was her turn. Her dad picked her up and held her sideways over the sink while I poured the water through her nose. She was a trooper! She let me do both sides of her nose. When she was finished, she informed us that it tickled and felt weird. She did love the fact that she was no longer congested! She also was very keen on me using the neti pot on her dad. He was a little less pleased, but like the great dad he is, he did it.

Hopefully, we can continue to play the nose game every time she has a sniffle!

Breaking the Silence

I just finished reading "A Wall of Silence," an article in the June issue of Parents magazine.  The article is about depression and moms--specifically the problems associated with postpartum depression (PPD).

I don't have to read an article to know what damage PPD can do. I've lived it. It took more than a year before I was diagnosed and got help. Everything seemed fine right after my daughter was born. She was an easy baby. I started feeling anxious but chalked it up to being a new mom. An unexpected surgery shortly after her birth left me unable to drive for an extended period. Two moves in six months left me lonely and isolated. A family crisis pushed me over the edge. I was a wreck. I would take care of the baby and sleep, I couldn't seem to manage anymore. I was withdrawn and angry. I felt completely out of control but I wasn't sure why or what to do about it. I struggled in silence--afraid I was crazy, a bad mother, a lousy human being. Thankfully, my husband realized that something had gone way off course and he got me help. A course of anti-depressants and therapy helped get me back on track.

I still struggle with issues raised by my PPD. I worry that I am not the mom I could have been if I hadn't been depressed. I worry that my daughter will be emotionally damaged by what happened. In my darkest moments, I wonder if my daughter and my husband don't deserve better than I can provide.

I have learned a lot during my fight with PPD. I have learned that I am stronger than I believed. I have learned that my husband has a deep capacity for love and understanding. I have learned that laughter and joy are priceless. I have learned to make happiness a choice. I have learned it is important to share my experience because I never want any other mother to feel like she is losing herself and is completely alone.

PPD doesn't just occur right after birth. It can happen any time during the first year. A later onset is especially common in nursing moms. Depression has many different faces--some moms cry, some panic, and some get angry. All of them need help. Motherhood is rewarding, frightening, hard, joyful, and it is not something we can do alone.

Not My Finest Day

Yesterday was not one of my finest days. I got up late, which wether you have a job to get to or not, always signals a poor start.

We had been dog sitting for my in-laws and they got home last night. I wanted to take their dog, an easy going shih tzu named Duffy, home early so I could give him a bath. Since I was already running late, I was rushing to get everything done so we could leave. I gathered up Duffy's things--bowls, bed--and put him on his leash. I also decided to take my dog, a chihuahua mix named Bocci, with us too. Quite frankly, she was a stinky dog and I figured it would be just as easy to bathe two as it would be to do just one. We headed out the door with me juggling a four-year old, two dogs, my purse and keys, and an assortment of dog paraphernalia. I had just gotten the apartment door locked when my little one informed me that I had forgotten her shoes. Sure enough, her little feet were bare! So back in we all went to get shoes. (How bad a mother am I that I contemplated just letting her go barefooted? We do live in Florida, after all.)

We ran a few errands on the way to my in-laws and picked up some lunch. The afternoon went quickly, and the dogs were bathed without incident. We went to church and then come home for a light dinner while my husband went to pick up his parents at the airport. I had to fight to go to the bathroom when we got home, because, as every mother knows, as soon as you say you will get something after you go to the bathroom, any sane four year-old will rush the bathroom you intend to use. Dinner finally fixed, I called my sister. This of course, was a signal to my daughter to go crazy, talking to me, running around, and generally acting like she has no manners at all. Finally, deciding that was not enough to get my attention, she spilled her juice on the floor. (Thankfully it was apple not grape!)

I had enough! I got off the phone in mid-conversation (amid my sister's laughter) and put the little one to bed early before cleaning up the mess she had made. As if to add insult to injury, when I went to change my clothes for the night, I realized that I had put my underwear on backwards and had been wearing them like that all day. Some days, you just can't win.

Mother's Day

I am not a fan of Mother's Day. In fact, I find it very annoying and have done so for almost as long as I have been a mother. Strange, huh?

It is not that I have any objection to other people celebrating Mother's Day, I don't. I just don't want to celebrate it or hear about it. I don't feel this way about Father's Day. I enjoy planning a day of surprises for my husband (who is a GREAT dad). But Mother's Day really bugs me.

You would think that as a stay-at-home mom, I would love Mother's Day. It isn't as if I get many accolades for the work I do every day.  I think that I find Mother's Day so bothersome because of my own complicated relationship with my mother. It is the one day when I most feel the disconnection I have in my life.

I suspect that there are other women like me. A silent group for whom Mother's Day is a reminder of loss, hurt, failure, or a host of other complicated and sad emotions. So, for those of us who do not wish to celebrate, I say Happy Spring Sunday!