Wear It Out

I have been contemplating the Depression Era refrain: Use it up, wear it out, make it do, or do without. Today, this notion is repurposed as "Reduce, Reuse, Recycle." I support both notions but note that the disposable lifestyle can be quite intoxicating.

Here, the children can show the way. For example, see this pic of the kids depositing funds they raised for refugees by asking door-to-door for contributions of lose change.

We are working on small things like remembering to turn off the power converters at night and riding bikes to church instead of driving. And I'm trying to focus on buying fewer items, but of higher quality.

Really, we have very few needs at this point. Besides groceries and some clothes, we could probably go a year or more without making a single purchase.

It is unfortunate that these ideas have gotten wrapped with political implications. Wise stewardship is a spiritual principle that brings peace to the individual and strength to the community, irrespective of discussions about climate change.

The Skinned Knee

Early in our marriage, Katie and I read the book "The Blessing of A Skinned Knee."  Like many such books, it takes 300 pages to summarize the idea that letting your kids get hurt is okay. So now you don't have to read the book. You're welcome.

In practice, we have at times been caught up in the cultural moment of so-called helicopter parenting. How is it that at age 10, I rode my BMX bike for miles and miles all over town without telling my parents where I was going and without a cell phone. Imagine it!

Even as we have attempted to deliberately relax, or at least hover at a higher altitude, our chosen lifestyle is not conducive to free range parenting. One simply cannot let their children run around Cairo. And then, in very safe Frankfurt, we told the kids they could ride their bikes around the block without us and they were very confused, like when you try to imagine what is on the other side of the end of the universe.

Next, we're off to Manila, another high rise apartment building. I'm sure it will be great, but certainly no riding of BMX bikes all around town.

I used to play hide and seek in the summer time until forever p.m. with the entire neighborhood. And speaking of skinned knees, there was this one spot of the curb that new comers always, I mean always, tripped over the first time they played and were running for base. And they would skin their knee and they would cry. And parents wouldn't even come outside. Crazy, right? And then they would stop crying and we would keep playing. It was bonkers. Like we didn't even need grown ups.

Anyway, now I have to figure out how to let my kids skin their knees in Manila. How do I let them have the social equivalent of neighborhood hide and seek in a high rise apartment and the era of playdates? Online Minecraft?

On Mother's Day (And It's a Boy)

I was in an airplane for most of Mother's Day. I left the house about 8 am to catch a 10 am flight, Frankfurt to DC. So I didn't have time to do much other than say, "Happy Mother's Day," before I left and by the time I was settled in at the hotel on the other end, Katie was asleep.

Please indulge me in some potentially uncomfortable honesty: Mother's Day is hard for me. While I have often owned Valentine's, anniversaries, and birthdays, I have historically not been that great about Mother's Day. Valentine's Day is easy because almost any effort exceeds expectations, so there is opportunity with limited risk. The anniversary carries expectation, but the terms of the deal are unambiguous. I deliver a gift cleverly related to some ancient tradition about linens, crystal, semi-precious stones, and so forth. The birthday is similarly straight forward. Throw a party. Buy a gift. It's easy.

But Mother's Day. Oh, Mother's Day. Part of my problem is that I have, in the past, disagreed with the premise of the day. I figured, if I haven't been showing her my gratitude the rest of the year, this one day isn't going to make it better; on the other hand, if I have been showing her my gratitude, why does she even need this day? Men, such thinking is a perilous trap.

My plan next year is to send Katie away for the weekend so we can wish her happy Mother's Day via Skype, and then she can watch Jane Austen movies and drink Diet Coke.

Meanwhile, we found out about 12 hours ago that number 4 is a boy. So awesome.

Thus, turning serious, Katie will again give of her body to deliver miraculous life into this world. She will be glorious mother. My perception of it is different this time. Somehow, with the first three, I was not awestruck. This time, I cannot help but perceive her as a goddess, a mighty creator. She deserves a golden scepter and a crown of diamonds. I can provide a minivan and 1,800 square feet.

I am humbled and inspired. Here I am married to this regal creator of life, this bringer of jollity. So how can I insult her by being other than noble myself? Which means I have work to do.