It is raining at 6:57 a.m. I know because I look out the window before giving Jack an update on the time. "6:57!" I call. Jack's bus comes every day at 7:02 a.m. He is supposed to leave at 6:57 to allow time to walk to the bus stop. Many days he sprints out the door at 7:01. If he misses the bus, he has to walk the mile to school. He hasn't missed the bus yet.
Until today. "Will you give me a ride?" he asks.
I stand firm. "Sorry, Jack. We have an agreement that you will walk to school if you miss the bus."
"But it's raining," he argues.
"Would you like an umbrella?" I suggest.
Jack retreats back into the house, presumably to retrieve an umbrella for our trek. He returns empty handed. "Dad said he'd give me a ride!"
Here's what I want to say to Paul at this moment: "Seriously? What happened to consistency? What happened to following through on consequences? What happened to us being on the same page in our parenting decisions? And why, if we're going to play good cop-bad cop roles, do I have to be the bad cop?" I don't say any of those things. I storm back into the house, grab an umbrella and thrust it into Jack's hands.
The first part of our walk is quiet, except for the gentle spatters of rain. Jack is angry and I am stubborn and we make quite a pair, the two of us. Bundled up in rain jackets, our hoods pulled tightly around our faces we walk silently side by side. Jack keeps the umbrella closed and it swings from his wrist as he moves. Tatum is with us, his soft, thick fur glistening with wetness. The rain begins to fall harder and Jack breaks the silence. "Why are you so mean?"
This is a good question and I mull it over. I don't try to be mean. What, exactly, have I done that is so mean? Is it mean to follow through on a consequence because the weather is not cooperating? Good parenting should always be consistent and reasonable. But what happens when you can't be both? I chose consistent. In hindsight, reasonable might have been the better option.
As we begin to climb the hill by school, we are in the middle of a torrential downpour. The sidewalk is flooding as the rain rushes back down the way we came. There is nowhere to walk except straight through. My pants are dragging with waterlogged weight and my socks and shoes are completely soaked.
"Jack, I'm sorry. I don't try to be mean. I love you and sometimes I think I know what's best for you. In this case, I think I made a mistake. We look like two drowned rats."
Now I am no longer feeling stubborn and Jack is no longer feeling angry. We both just feel cold and really wet. After dropping Jack off, I return home and pack dry clothes for him. Then I drive up to school to deliver the bag.
If I could have a "do-over" for the morning, I'm not sure what I would do. Give him a ride? Make him wear rainboots and use his umbrella? Wake him up 10 minutes earlier? Parenting decisions aren't often black and white. Sometimes adults make mistakes too. Maybe I wouldn't change our morning. Maybe the real lesson I taught Jack is this:
When you make a mistake, admit your error, say you're sorry and put on some dry socks.
Postscripts
In today's paper, I read an article about Wednesday's storm. "It was truly exceptional as a rain-producer...setting both daily and monthly rainfall records."
Remember, I didn't say anything to Paul before I left? When I returned home sopping, to his credit, he didn't say anything to me either.
Thursday, December 8, 2011
Friday, December 2, 2011
I'm Not Complaining But...
"God loves a cheerful giver. God loves a CHEERFUL giver." I'm repeating this over and over to myself as I pack.
Sleeping bag? Check.
Mess kit? Check.
Cheerful outlook? Rats. Two out of three ain't bad, right?
It's not that I don't want to spend the weekend chaperoning a Girl Scout camping trip. Hmmm, well, actually I really don't want to spend the weekend chaperoning a Girl Scout camping trip. I'd rather stay home. It's not that I don't enjoy being a Girl Scout Leader--this is true. I have the pleasure and privilege of working with a wonderful group of 10 year olds. It's just that tomorrow will be the third Saturday out of the last four that I have spent the day with these lovely girls. We hiked together on the Billy Goat Trail. We raked leaves together for our service project clean up. And now, we camp. How much togetherness do we need?
Oops, I do not sound cheerful, do I?
I'm dreaming of cozying up by the fire Saturday morning reading the paper and drinking coffee from my new coffee maker. Then maybe I'll go to yoga with my friend Debbie and fix myself a big salad for lunch. In the afternoon I'll turn up some festive Christmas music and fa la la as I deck my halls with painted nutcrackers and evergreen wreaths. Paul and I will put our feet up and enjoy a drink together before I whip up a delicious dinner. Then we'll end the day snuggled on the couch with a family movie.
Well, I certainly feel more cheerful now but, in reality, staying home will not be more relaxing than my chaperoning duties. Jack needs to depart for his basketball game at 8:30 am, and Tatum will need a long walk. The giant history project is due Monday and I'm pretty it hasn't been started. Then there's the grocery trip that needs to be made in preparation for the 21 people showing up at our house for the church youth group progressive dinner. We're the salad stop. If the house could be sorta straight and the toilet clean before company arrives, that would be great.
We're not the only parents who seem to sacrifice every weekend to our children's schedules. Our kids are in that maniacal age bracket--old enough to be active but too young to drive--and after we sign them up for all these activities we are at their mercy. Recently I invited a friend over and this was her reply (names changed to protect the innocent):
"We unfortunately have a really crazy weekend. There are swim meets and basketball games and Husband and I have a work party to go to Sat. night which will be very late. Of course now we find out Child 1 has a late BB game too. Sunday I have a swim meet with Child 2 and BB game with Child 3. I'd love to come and thanks for the invite, but I think we will be beat. I hope they don't have tons of homework too."
When I stop to consider, the camping trip will be just fine. It's only 24 hours of my life and I'll be sleeping for 8 of them. (Yes, I know my sleeping may be wishful thinking.) We're looking at decent weather--not always guaranteed the first week of December. There will be some creative skits, I'll get to go on a hike, help build a campfire and even get a s'more or two in the deal. Katherine is thrilled that I'm coming.
When I start to think about having a Saturday all to myself, I realize that in 5 years, my Saturdays may be spent overseeing the college application process. In just a few short years, I'll have all the Saturdays I want to myself. This is when I remember that no one is forcing me to be involved in my children's lives. It's a choice that I make gladly realizing that they do grow up too fast.
Water bottle? Check.
Bandanna? Check.
Cheerful outlook? Check.
Sleeping bag? Check.
Mess kit? Check.
Cheerful outlook? Rats. Two out of three ain't bad, right?
It's not that I don't want to spend the weekend chaperoning a Girl Scout camping trip. Hmmm, well, actually I really don't want to spend the weekend chaperoning a Girl Scout camping trip. I'd rather stay home. It's not that I don't enjoy being a Girl Scout Leader--this is true. I have the pleasure and privilege of working with a wonderful group of 10 year olds. It's just that tomorrow will be the third Saturday out of the last four that I have spent the day with these lovely girls. We hiked together on the Billy Goat Trail. We raked leaves together for our service project clean up. And now, we camp. How much togetherness do we need?
Oops, I do not sound cheerful, do I?
I'm dreaming of cozying up by the fire Saturday morning reading the paper and drinking coffee from my new coffee maker. Then maybe I'll go to yoga with my friend Debbie and fix myself a big salad for lunch. In the afternoon I'll turn up some festive Christmas music and fa la la as I deck my halls with painted nutcrackers and evergreen wreaths. Paul and I will put our feet up and enjoy a drink together before I whip up a delicious dinner. Then we'll end the day snuggled on the couch with a family movie.
Well, I certainly feel more cheerful now but, in reality, staying home will not be more relaxing than my chaperoning duties. Jack needs to depart for his basketball game at 8:30 am, and Tatum will need a long walk. The giant history project is due Monday and I'm pretty it hasn't been started. Then there's the grocery trip that needs to be made in preparation for the 21 people showing up at our house for the church youth group progressive dinner. We're the salad stop. If the house could be sorta straight and the toilet clean before company arrives, that would be great.
We're not the only parents who seem to sacrifice every weekend to our children's schedules. Our kids are in that maniacal age bracket--old enough to be active but too young to drive--and after we sign them up for all these activities we are at their mercy. Recently I invited a friend over and this was her reply (names changed to protect the innocent):
"We unfortunately have a really crazy weekend. There are swim meets and basketball games and Husband and I have a work party to go to Sat. night which will be very late. Of course now we find out Child 1 has a late BB game too. Sunday I have a swim meet with Child 2 and BB game with Child 3. I'd love to come and thanks for the invite, but I think we will be beat. I hope they don't have tons of homework too."
When I stop to consider, the camping trip will be just fine. It's only 24 hours of my life and I'll be sleeping for 8 of them. (Yes, I know my sleeping may be wishful thinking.) We're looking at decent weather--not always guaranteed the first week of December. There will be some creative skits, I'll get to go on a hike, help build a campfire and even get a s'more or two in the deal. Katherine is thrilled that I'm coming.
When I start to think about having a Saturday all to myself, I realize that in 5 years, my Saturdays may be spent overseeing the college application process. In just a few short years, I'll have all the Saturdays I want to myself. This is when I remember that no one is forcing me to be involved in my children's lives. It's a choice that I make gladly realizing that they do grow up too fast.
Water bottle? Check.
Bandanna? Check.
Cheerful outlook? Check.
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Squirrel Trouble
"My neighbor Mr. Greenhalgh loves tomatoes," I begin. "Every year, he carefully plants them in his sunny garden. He waters them and watches every day as the plants begin to grow." I continue, telling my class how Mr. Greenhalgh watches the small yellow flowers blossom. "What do you think happens next?"
The students know. "The small green tomatoes begin to grow!"
Slowly, I build the suspense. I tell them how Mr. Greenhalgh's mouth begins to water as he watches his tomatoes grow big, juicy and red. I tell them how much he is looking forward to eating his tomatoes.
"Then," I say, "Mr. Greenhalgh has some trouble. Squirrel trouble."
With lots of dramatic flair, I tell them that the squirrels decide to eat Mr. Greenhalgh's tomatoes.
"Mr. Greenhalgh runs outside with his fist in the air, like this," I show them. Then he yells to the squirrels, "Hey you squirrels! Get off of my tomatoes." (For the record, I'm not sure if Mr. Greenhalgh ever really did that, but this small embellishment is the best part of the story.)
I love to share stories of my life with the kindergarteners. After a few months, they are all familiar with the antics of our dog Tatum, the adventures of my children and various funny tidbits that occur throughout the week. Occasionally, I will share a story of a friend or relative. I think it is important that students know me as a person, not just a teacher. By telling my stories, I hope I am modeling that we all have stories to tell-- little moments of our day that are funny, sad, scary and exciting. In kindergarten, students practice telling their own stories through oral language, drawing and writing.
In November, our science unit is squirrels. It is the perfect time to share Mr. Greenhalgh's story. Next, I ask the students for advice. "Boys and girls, does anyone have a suggestion for Mr. Greenhalgh to help him solve his squirrel problem?" On a large sheet of chart paper, I record their ideas. Then the students draw and write their solutions down for Mr. Greenhalgh. Here are some of this year's suggestions:
"He should have two dogs."
"Mr. Greenhalgh and his family can take turns guarding the tomatoes from the squirrels."
"He should get a cat."
"He should get some small, red water balloons and tie them to his tomato plants. Then the squirrels will be tricked and get squirted with water when they take a bite."
"Mr. Greenhalgh should build a big fence with a cage on top."
"He should buy some squirrel spray."
Of all the advice, my personal favorite didn't tackle the squirrel problem at all but looked at the issue from a different perspective: "He should ask you for some of your tomatoes." Yes, Mr. Greenhalgh, you are welcome anytime. In kindergarten, we learn to share.
The students know. "The small green tomatoes begin to grow!"
Slowly, I build the suspense. I tell them how Mr. Greenhalgh's mouth begins to water as he watches his tomatoes grow big, juicy and red. I tell them how much he is looking forward to eating his tomatoes.
"Then," I say, "Mr. Greenhalgh has some trouble. Squirrel trouble."
With lots of dramatic flair, I tell them that the squirrels decide to eat Mr. Greenhalgh's tomatoes.
"Mr. Greenhalgh runs outside with his fist in the air, like this," I show them. Then he yells to the squirrels, "Hey you squirrels! Get off of my tomatoes." (For the record, I'm not sure if Mr. Greenhalgh ever really did that, but this small embellishment is the best part of the story.)
I love to share stories of my life with the kindergarteners. After a few months, they are all familiar with the antics of our dog Tatum, the adventures of my children and various funny tidbits that occur throughout the week. Occasionally, I will share a story of a friend or relative. I think it is important that students know me as a person, not just a teacher. By telling my stories, I hope I am modeling that we all have stories to tell-- little moments of our day that are funny, sad, scary and exciting. In kindergarten, students practice telling their own stories through oral language, drawing and writing.
In November, our science unit is squirrels. It is the perfect time to share Mr. Greenhalgh's story. Next, I ask the students for advice. "Boys and girls, does anyone have a suggestion for Mr. Greenhalgh to help him solve his squirrel problem?" On a large sheet of chart paper, I record their ideas. Then the students draw and write their solutions down for Mr. Greenhalgh. Here are some of this year's suggestions:
 |
| "Get a scarecrow." |
 |
| "Mr. Greenhalgh should have a dog." |
"He should have two dogs."
"Mr. Greenhalgh and his family can take turns guarding the tomatoes from the squirrels."
"He should get a cat."
 |
| "Mr. Greenhalgh you could throw snowballs." |
"He should get some small, red water balloons and tie them to his tomato plants. Then the squirrels will be tricked and get squirted with water when they take a bite."
"Mr. Greenhalgh should build a big fence with a cage on top."
 |
| "Mr. Greenhalgh you should plant poison ivy." |
"He should buy some squirrel spray."
Of all the advice, my personal favorite didn't tackle the squirrel problem at all but looked at the issue from a different perspective: "He should ask you for some of your tomatoes." Yes, Mr. Greenhalgh, you are welcome anytime. In kindergarten, we learn to share.
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Coffee Pots and Marriage
My coffee maker used to drive me crazy. An obscure brand, I bought it on sale last year when our old one broke. The pouring spout was curled around the lip so when I tipped it, the coffee would cling to the edge of the pot and trickle down the side leaving a puddle on the counter. I would gauge the success of my pour by the number of paper towels it took to clean up.
In the spirit of reducing our paper towel usage, my dear wonderful husband decides to surprise me with a new, beautiful, deluxe coffee maker.
I hate it.
Our new appliance has a stainless steel pot. While its opaque finish may be aesthetically pleasing, I have no way of measuring the amount of water in the pot as I fill it. In addition, its insulated lining means a smaller capacity than our old model. Not as practical for serving company, I think, as the holidays approach. Worst of all is the coffee itself, if that's what you want to call it. More like brown hot water.
Staring down into my steaming mug, I mull over my dilemma. If I act grateful for a gift I don't like, I will have to drink this excuse for coffee every morning indefinitely. If I tell the truth, I risk hurting Paul's feelings. I risk giving him the message that he is not helpful and should just leave the errands to me.
I decide to be patient. "Sweetie, I am having trouble with the new coffee maker. I'm not sure I'm using it correctly. Could you please try making a pot?"
I watch as Paul carefully measures the grounds. I watch as he pours in the water. After it brews, he pours himself a cup of coffee. He takes a sip. I notice his nose wrinkle up a little. "Hmm, seems a bit weak," he says.
"Yes," I agree. I decide this is the perfect time to point out the coffee maker's other deficiencies. I look at Paul. He looks crestfallen. Oh no, I've hurt his feelings!
"Well, I guess I just shouldn't try to do errands for you," he laments.
I put down my coffee mug and give him a big hug. "Honey, this coffee pot is not perfect. But you are perfect for me. I love you."
Today Paul and I celebrate our 15 year wedding anniversary. In a card from his parents, his father writes to us, "Marriage, mirroring life, generally is not a series of ongoing earth-shaking events. Rather, it is the ordinary day to day routine in which we are given the opportunity to piece together a mosaic of little special happenings into a beautiful picture."
Nothing earth-shaking happened to me today. I went to work, walked the dog, returned the coffee maker and chose a new one. It's probably not perfect either. It will break someday as well. But as long as we're able to drink our coffee together, it's perfect for me. Just like Paul.
In the spirit of reducing our paper towel usage, my dear wonderful husband decides to surprise me with a new, beautiful, deluxe coffee maker.
I hate it.
Our new appliance has a stainless steel pot. While its opaque finish may be aesthetically pleasing, I have no way of measuring the amount of water in the pot as I fill it. In addition, its insulated lining means a smaller capacity than our old model. Not as practical for serving company, I think, as the holidays approach. Worst of all is the coffee itself, if that's what you want to call it. More like brown hot water.
Staring down into my steaming mug, I mull over my dilemma. If I act grateful for a gift I don't like, I will have to drink this excuse for coffee every morning indefinitely. If I tell the truth, I risk hurting Paul's feelings. I risk giving him the message that he is not helpful and should just leave the errands to me.
I decide to be patient. "Sweetie, I am having trouble with the new coffee maker. I'm not sure I'm using it correctly. Could you please try making a pot?"
I watch as Paul carefully measures the grounds. I watch as he pours in the water. After it brews, he pours himself a cup of coffee. He takes a sip. I notice his nose wrinkle up a little. "Hmm, seems a bit weak," he says.
"Yes," I agree. I decide this is the perfect time to point out the coffee maker's other deficiencies. I look at Paul. He looks crestfallen. Oh no, I've hurt his feelings!
"Well, I guess I just shouldn't try to do errands for you," he laments.
I put down my coffee mug and give him a big hug. "Honey, this coffee pot is not perfect. But you are perfect for me. I love you."
Today Paul and I celebrate our 15 year wedding anniversary. In a card from his parents, his father writes to us, "Marriage, mirroring life, generally is not a series of ongoing earth-shaking events. Rather, it is the ordinary day to day routine in which we are given the opportunity to piece together a mosaic of little special happenings into a beautiful picture."
Nothing earth-shaking happened to me today. I went to work, walked the dog, returned the coffee maker and chose a new one. It's probably not perfect either. It will break someday as well. But as long as we're able to drink our coffee together, it's perfect for me. Just like Paul.
 |
| November 23, 1996 |
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Pop Pop's Challenges
Question: What do the following items have in common?
A letter to a veteran
An apple pie
A handful of paperclips
We never know quite what to expect when Pop Pop comes to visit but we know it will be stimulating. Pop Pop loves learning. When I was growing up, we used to go to the library together. As I browsed around for my own selections, I remember my dad checking out all sorts of biographies from the youth section to read for himself. Now that he is a proud grandparent, Pop Pop loves to share his passion for learning with his grandchildren. And thus began Pop Pop's Famous Challenges.
Often Pop Pop's challenges begin with something to read. Once he brought a bird identification book along with the challenge, "Identify five birds outside using the bird book as a reference." Another time we read a book about a little girl with polio, after which Pop Pop administered a quiz. One September he brought a book called How To Make An Apple Pie and See the World. Guess what the challenge was that week? Mmmm, I still have the recipe.
When a newspaper article sparks his interest, Pop Pop brings it along. Once we read an article about two World War II survivors from the 99th Infantry Division who became friends. Pop Pop had tracked down the address of one, 93 years old, and the kids wrote a letter to thank the veteran for his service to our country. They were thrilled when he responded!
Other times, Pop Pop's Famous Challenges are more fun and games. He will engage Jack in a round of chess or encourage Katherine to beat him playing Blokus. He regularly brings jokes, riddles and logic puzzles to solve. "Pretend these paper clips are gold links," he says as he pulls a handful from his shirt pocket. "and you are the jeweler for the king." Soon Jack and Katherine are busy manipulating the clips into a necklace, trying to figure out the best design.
Pop Pop's Famous Challenges are occasionally inspired by events in his own life, such as when his dog Nukie was treated by a veterinarian for scabies. That week's challenge was to create a skit to teach the audience about sarcoptic mange.
Pop Pop always has a reward for a completing a challenge successfully. A piece of candy here, a dollar there. Sometimes a Challenge can be completed in a day; other times it takes longer. Currently he has challenged Jack and Katherine to read 365 Bible verses during the year and track their progress on a little calendar. Each quarter he rewards them for their progress by contributing money to their college savings account.
You're the bus driver. At the first stop, 4 people get on. At the second stop, 8 people get on. At the third stop, 2 people get off. At the 4th stop, everyone got off. The question is, What color are the bus driver's eyes?
Answer: Same as yours--you're the bus driver!
A letter to a veteran
An apple pie
A handful of paperclips
We never know quite what to expect when Pop Pop comes to visit but we know it will be stimulating. Pop Pop loves learning. When I was growing up, we used to go to the library together. As I browsed around for my own selections, I remember my dad checking out all sorts of biographies from the youth section to read for himself. Now that he is a proud grandparent, Pop Pop loves to share his passion for learning with his grandchildren. And thus began Pop Pop's Famous Challenges.
Often Pop Pop's challenges begin with something to read. Once he brought a bird identification book along with the challenge, "Identify five birds outside using the bird book as a reference." Another time we read a book about a little girl with polio, after which Pop Pop administered a quiz. One September he brought a book called How To Make An Apple Pie and See the World. Guess what the challenge was that week? Mmmm, I still have the recipe.
When a newspaper article sparks his interest, Pop Pop brings it along. Once we read an article about two World War II survivors from the 99th Infantry Division who became friends. Pop Pop had tracked down the address of one, 93 years old, and the kids wrote a letter to thank the veteran for his service to our country. They were thrilled when he responded!
Other times, Pop Pop's Famous Challenges are more fun and games. He will engage Jack in a round of chess or encourage Katherine to beat him playing Blokus. He regularly brings jokes, riddles and logic puzzles to solve. "Pretend these paper clips are gold links," he says as he pulls a handful from his shirt pocket. "and you are the jeweler for the king." Soon Jack and Katherine are busy manipulating the clips into a necklace, trying to figure out the best design.
Pop Pop's Famous Challenges are occasionally inspired by events in his own life, such as when his dog Nukie was treated by a veterinarian for scabies. That week's challenge was to create a skit to teach the audience about sarcoptic mange.
Pop Pop always has a reward for a completing a challenge successfully. A piece of candy here, a dollar there. Sometimes a Challenge can be completed in a day; other times it takes longer. Currently he has challenged Jack and Katherine to read 365 Bible verses during the year and track their progress on a little calendar. Each quarter he rewards them for their progress by contributing money to their college savings account.
 |
| Pop Pop's graph explaining the merits of a good education |
I think the real rewards are more intangible. Pop Pop loves to share with his grandchildren his enthusiasm for learning. He is teaching them the value and interest in topics they had never considered. In this day and age, he is developing a relationship with two young kids that doesn't rely on TV or video games for entertainment. Just puzzles such as this one:
Friday, November 11, 2011
11/11/11
We are on a road trip.
In my recollection, this is when it begins. Whether or not this is true is irrelevant. I'm telling the story. The way I remember it, we're in the car for a long time so we're conscious of the clock. We distract ourselves by looking for alphabet letters on license plates and listening to the radio, but we are all the while cognizant of the miles and minutes ticking away, bringing us closer to our destination.
Someone--probably Katherine--notices the clock has a double number. "Look!" She says. "It's 8:08. Make a wish." So we do, closing our eyes for a brief instant and thinking of a silent hope. And so it goes at 9:09 and 10:10 until we get to 11:11. This, we decide, is the time for the Macdaddy of all wishes.
I look around at my family and say, "I love you and you love me. My wish has already come true."
Who knew my off the cuff comment years ago would create a special significance for 11:11 in our family. If Paul is at work and he notices the time, he'll email me. On a busy chore-filled Saturday morning, the kids pause at 11:11 for a family hug. 11:11 has become synonymous with "I love you."
Today is November 11, 2011. 11/11/11. At first the kids are upset that we won't all be together at 11:11 this morning. I tell them the beauty of today's special date is that we can say 11/11 anytime at all today and it will always be true. Tonight, the calendar is free of social plans and obligations. On 11/11, I'm going to stay home with the people I love.
In my recollection, this is when it begins. Whether or not this is true is irrelevant. I'm telling the story. The way I remember it, we're in the car for a long time so we're conscious of the clock. We distract ourselves by looking for alphabet letters on license plates and listening to the radio, but we are all the while cognizant of the miles and minutes ticking away, bringing us closer to our destination.
Someone--probably Katherine--notices the clock has a double number. "Look!" She says. "It's 8:08. Make a wish." So we do, closing our eyes for a brief instant and thinking of a silent hope. And so it goes at 9:09 and 10:10 until we get to 11:11. This, we decide, is the time for the Macdaddy of all wishes.
I look around at my family and say, "I love you and you love me. My wish has already come true."
Who knew my off the cuff comment years ago would create a special significance for 11:11 in our family. If Paul is at work and he notices the time, he'll email me. On a busy chore-filled Saturday morning, the kids pause at 11:11 for a family hug. 11:11 has become synonymous with "I love you."
Today is November 11, 2011. 11/11/11. At first the kids are upset that we won't all be together at 11:11 this morning. I tell them the beauty of today's special date is that we can say 11/11 anytime at all today and it will always be true. Tonight, the calendar is free of social plans and obligations. On 11/11, I'm going to stay home with the people I love.
Monday, November 7, 2011
Tennis Elbow
I've got a bona fide case of tennis elbow. The good news: it is not impacting my tennis game AT ALL! This may be because I don't play tennis. Well, I pick up the racquet a few times a year and talk about playing more...but I digress. This isn't really about tennis at all, It's about keeping a budget.
Yes, there are many benefits to cutting back on work hours but 'more money' is not one of them. In September we faced the reality of my reduced salary. At first I think we don't really need a budget. We're not extravagant spenders and we rarely go out to eat. How hard can it be? For a month I track our income and expenses to get a baseline of our spending unchecked. Guess what I discover? We need a budget.
Now I could argue that September has some unique expenses--school supplies, gym uniforms, new shoes, school fundraisers...but every month it's always something, isn't it? I take a look at our receipts to see where we can make some adjustments and tweak our spending habits. In an effort to reduce our grocery bills, I find myself at the bulk store.
The bulk store definitely has the potential to save money but it takes some effort. First, I'm learning to plan ahead and cut coupons, which can be time consuming but rewarding. Next, I realize that I have to buy only what I know we will use. The bulk dry pasta for $1.00 per lb. is a good deal but the bulk boxes of Chocolate Cheerios that Katherine really, really wanted are getting stale in the pantry. I'm also comparing the cost of staples. A gallon of milk at the bulk store is $3.23--that's a whopping 96 cents less than what the grocery store charges.
As I budget I also learn to be careful. Who knew saving money could be dangerous? The tennis elbow was a rookie mistake--trying to pick up a 12 pack of canned soup with one hand while carrying a jumbo-sized laundry detergent in the other. Then there was the coffee bag incident.
I usually buy a small bag of good, quality coffee. This time, I buy a giant bag of inexpensive bulk coffee. I pour some of the new coffee into the old empty bag and store the rest in the freezer. Now we can pretend that we are drinking good, quality coffee. When my mom visits, she doesn't know my new system. She uses up the coffee and unknowingly throws away a perfectly good empty coffee bag!
The danger comes when I tell her what happened. After she returns home, she mails me a new empty gourmet coffee bag. Apparently, however, the post office intervenes. When my mail arrives, the envelope has been sliced open and the contents inspected. I remember reading that coffee grounds are sometimes used to disguise the scent of illegal substances from drug sniffing dogs. I wonder what the postal inspector thought when he opened a bag that smelled like coffee and found...a coffee bag. Luckily we avoided the SWAT team descending on our house for the drug raid.
Despite the dangers of being on a budget, I will persevere. I'm heading back to the bulk store this afternoon. Right after I finish icing my elbow.
Yes, there are many benefits to cutting back on work hours but 'more money' is not one of them. In September we faced the reality of my reduced salary. At first I think we don't really need a budget. We're not extravagant spenders and we rarely go out to eat. How hard can it be? For a month I track our income and expenses to get a baseline of our spending unchecked. Guess what I discover? We need a budget.
Now I could argue that September has some unique expenses--school supplies, gym uniforms, new shoes, school fundraisers...but every month it's always something, isn't it? I take a look at our receipts to see where we can make some adjustments and tweak our spending habits. In an effort to reduce our grocery bills, I find myself at the bulk store.
The bulk store definitely has the potential to save money but it takes some effort. First, I'm learning to plan ahead and cut coupons, which can be time consuming but rewarding. Next, I realize that I have to buy only what I know we will use. The bulk dry pasta for $1.00 per lb. is a good deal but the bulk boxes of Chocolate Cheerios that Katherine really, really wanted are getting stale in the pantry. I'm also comparing the cost of staples. A gallon of milk at the bulk store is $3.23--that's a whopping 96 cents less than what the grocery store charges.
As I budget I also learn to be careful. Who knew saving money could be dangerous? The tennis elbow was a rookie mistake--trying to pick up a 12 pack of canned soup with one hand while carrying a jumbo-sized laundry detergent in the other. Then there was the coffee bag incident.
I usually buy a small bag of good, quality coffee. This time, I buy a giant bag of inexpensive bulk coffee. I pour some of the new coffee into the old empty bag and store the rest in the freezer. Now we can pretend that we are drinking good, quality coffee. When my mom visits, she doesn't know my new system. She uses up the coffee and unknowingly throws away a perfectly good empty coffee bag!
The danger comes when I tell her what happened. After she returns home, she mails me a new empty gourmet coffee bag. Apparently, however, the post office intervenes. When my mail arrives, the envelope has been sliced open and the contents inspected. I remember reading that coffee grounds are sometimes used to disguise the scent of illegal substances from drug sniffing dogs. I wonder what the postal inspector thought when he opened a bag that smelled like coffee and found...a coffee bag. Luckily we avoided the SWAT team descending on our house for the drug raid.
Despite the dangers of being on a budget, I will persevere. I'm heading back to the bulk store this afternoon. Right after I finish icing my elbow.
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