Here are a some real gems:

“…all parents spend more time today with their children than they did in 1975, including mothers, in spite of the great rush of women into the American workforce. Today’s married mothers also have less leisure time (5.4 fewer hours per week); 71 percent say they crave more time for themselves (as do 57 percent of married fathers). Yet 85 percent of all parents still—still!—think they don’t spend enough time with their children.”

“(Children are) a huge source of joy, but they turn every other source of joy to s***.”

“And couples probably pay the dearest price of all. Healthy relationships definitely make people happier. But children adversely affect relationships. As Thomas Bradbury, a father of two and professor of psychology at UCLA, likes to say: ‘Being in a good relationship is a risk factor for becoming a parent.’

Studies and articles like this always irritate me. How do you measure “happy,” anyway? “Happy” is a mood. “Happy” depends on the day of the week, the hour, sometimes the minute. It depends on whether you’re fighting with your sister, or coming off a fun day at the beach. Reducing the lifelong experience of parenthood to this tiny sliver is worse than ridiculous.

Plus, these sorts of stories are based on people’s perceptions, which are then turned into reality. This is another thing I hate about political “news.” During an election cycle, we don’t hear facts about issues or stances; that would be too complicated, too prone to bias. No, we hear the results of polls, because obviously what people THINK is the truth actually IS the truth. (Puh-leeze.)

So I was somewhat mollified to see that (buried halfway down the article), they shared this:

“Seven years ago, the sociologists Kei Nomaguchi and Melissa A. Milkie did a study in which they followed couples for five to seven years, some of whom had children and some of whom did not. And what they found was that, yes, those couples who became parents did more housework and felt less in control and quarreled more (actually, only the women thought they quarreled more, but anyway). On the other hand, the married women were less depressed after they’d had kids than their childless peers. And perhaps this is because the study sought to understand not just the moment-to-moment moods of its participants, but more existential matters, like how connected they felt, and how motivated, and how much despair they were in (as opposed to how much stress they were under): Do you not feel like eating? Do you feel like you can’t shake the blues? Do you feel lonely? Like you can’t get going? Parents, who live in a clamorous, perpetual-forward-motion machine almost all of the time, seemed to have different answers than their childless cohorts.

Somewhat, because you still have to draw the obvious conclusion for yourself: that fleeting “happiness” is not the whole story. Parenthood is stressful, for sure, and sometimes it seems like the rewards are ephemeral. But if you can step back and look at the big picture, it makes all the difference. Sure, this morning as I type I have a 16-month-old whining and whimpering, trying to sit on my lap and take over the keyboard.  And a 5-year-old sulking because I told him he couldn’t wear his Superman pajamas all day (he’s been wearing them for 76 hours already). Is that annoying? Uh, yes. Do I like stubbing my toe on chairs and stools, tripping over stainless bowls while I’m trying to cook? Not in the slightest. In fact, I throw temper tantrums about it all the time.

But in twenty-five years, when my kids are grown, I’m not going to be stuck on this day’s annoyances–this day’s, or any day’s, for that matter. I’m going to be thinking how rich my life is because of them.

This is why I get so irritated when the girl at Kidz Court looks at my chaotic family of three little ones and says, “You’re crazy.” When did we lose the ability to think and plan long term? When did the passing pleasure of the moment become the only standard by which we judge life?

“I think this boils down to a philosophical question, rather than a psychological one,” says (Tom) Gilovich (of Cornell U). “Should you value moment-to-moment happiness more than retrospective evaluations of your life?”

Most importantly, I have a choice in how we choose to approach the individual moments. With or without children, there will always be irritations in life, but there will also be moments of heart-stopping beauty and incredible grace. And often, they are the same moments. The baby who’s trying to type my blog post in Baby-de-gook is also holding his hands up and padding toward me with a grin that makes my insides go gooey. The kid sulking about Superman jammies is also taking time outs to giggle at being tickled. In these moments that swing so wildly, I get to choose which part defines my mood.

I won’t always choose well. But I will always have the choice.

The day we talked, I got to pick her brain on the subject of overparenting, and the way that the choice not to use contraception affects our outlook on parenting. Although we were talking Catholicism, I think her reflections will resonate with Protestant and Catholic alike.

KB: Is there something about the choice not to contracept that causes a shift in the way couples choose to parent?

KH: I do think it makes a big difference. Just looking up a couple of articles on the one-child policy in China brought it into focus. In China they’re talking about the “little emperor syndrome.” Since this is the only child they’re going to have, parents focus all their time and attention on that child. You have two parents and four grandparents catering to one child. Six adults, all trying to figure out how they will help that ONE child afford a house. Now they’re referring to these little boys as the Brat Pack, because instead of learning the normal things that a child needs to learn, they’re being catered to.

Sometimes in the States you’ll hear people having only one or two children talk about “premium” children. They’ll use negative images about larger families, like “we’re not having a litter of kids, or a crop of kids, were having premium children.” To NFP parents, they are priceless children. They’re a gift from God, so we have a responsibility to raise them well, but not to have them be the focus of our lives.

The secular view is: I only want to have one or two children because I can then give them everything. My husband overheard this couple on a plane, with a six-month old baby. Scott got into conversation with them. He said, “Is this your first child?”

“This is our only child,” the husband said. “We’re gonna give her everything.”

And my husband said, “Except siblings.” The secular world thinks of the THINGS, the room to themselves, the toys…but they’re very lonely children. Some of them don’t have very many cousins, aunts and uncles, so the family structure that would help them be well-rounded Christian people isn’t there. There are those who substitute things, and they think they’re doing what’s best for their kids.

KB: Does the fact that we practice surrendering to God’s will and trusting in God’s timing predispose us to resist the urge to overparent?

KH: As Christians, the center of our lives needs to be Christ. Do we need to be responsible for their safety? Sure, but ultimately I’m not the one in control—God is. And our perspective on contraception is that God is the one in control. And we’re acknowledging that.

For example, germs. If you have one or two children, you can go out of your way to protect them…but they may grow up to be sickly adults because they weren’t exposed when they were young. When you have lots of kids, you can’t do that, but they may be healthier later.

It’s important to be responsible for their care, but God is asking us to be faithful in parenting. One of the challenges every parent faces, whether Christian or not, is different shading between our children and ourselves. We can feel that their success is our success and their failure is our shame. I think the Catholic perspective on parenting is more balanced. Yes, we have an influence on their success or failure, but if we begin to equate their success or failure with ours, then were not putting the correct emphasis on God.

Does that mean I can’t reinforce my child’s obedience? Of course I can–but I can only do so much. Beyond that, I have to trust in God. God is going to teach them and challenge them through other people, not just me. I think of those parents who map out what Ivy League school their kids are going to attend based on what preschool they send them to. They’re confusing their identity.

I think that a Catholic view on parenting is much more balanced. Of course, we all bring our own weaknesses and strengths to parenthood. One of the differences between the Catholic view of family and the secular world is the marriage relationship. The primary relationship is our marriage; and from that, our children are our next priority. It’s very important that we care for children and serve them in the ways that we need to, but we can’t make them the center of our life, because that’s where God needs to be. And ultimately if we put the priorities in order, we’re serving them better.

KB: Does the Church offer us any guidance? What about Scripture, saints, etc.?

KH: In I Corinthians 8:1, Paul says that knowledge puffs up; love builds up.
The Church teaches us that responsible parenting is being open to life. The world will pit having children vs. being responsible. So many of these beautiful Church and papal writings don’t pit one versus the other. I don’t know any parent who would say they DON’T want to do the best thing for their kids. If that’s our primary motivation, then we need to trust the wisdom of the Church that what is best for our children includes our openness to life.

There’s a psychiatrist up in Canada who treats kids with lots of dark thoughts. There’s the sense in these kids that it was a good thing they were conceived when they were, because otherwise they might not be here at all.
If we will yield to the Lord and the Church, we will discover how good it is for our children to have other children. I think of older couples who say they wish they had had more children, but now it’s too late. The time to be open is when it’s possible.

My mom had her last baby when I was sixteen, and she said it this way: “I know I will be an older parent when he’s young. But you are all so close, I know you will all care for him.”

KB: As you might imagine, considering my interest, we also talked about Down syndrome. Its pretty common, though of course not universal, that once you have a child with Down’s, you’re done—as if parents throw their hands up in defense against the fear of being overwhelmed by more children, because that one child requires so much more to accomplish the basic necessities of life. Mrs. Hahn took a different approach. She told me about a friend of hers, who has a child with Down’s. That friend responded by saying, “It makes me want to have more children. I know I’m probably going not to outlive my child, and this way his siblings can care for him.”

I know that conventional wisdom would react badly to that—as if the only value for a younger sibling of a child with special needs is as eventual caretaker, a person in service to a more fragile older sibling, a la My Sisters Keeper. But I think that misses a couple of important points.

First, this perspective only exists in combination with a deep love of and openness to life. And secondly, this is what family is about: taking care of each other. I don’t see anything wrong with parents who take into account the lifelong welfare of all family members while they’re making decisions about family planning.

Mrs. Hahn goes on to say,

KH: That’s part of the irony of the Gospel being lived out in normal life: it may sound more logical to stop everything and focus all the resources on one. But I can think of a family where the next child challenges and encourages the older sibling with developmental growth.

Parenthood gives us a chance to really trust the Lord: whether we’re able to conceive, whether we’re able to bring them to term, whether there are disabilities to deal with…we’re really not in control.

On the other hand, we do know a lot of parents feel the impulse to overprotect. It is responsible to pause and consider: Is there something good and holy in that impulse?

When we try to live the Church’s teaching we can sometimes fall into the trap of Catholic guilt and think we have to offer everything up, that we can’t ever say, “This is too hard!” Sometimes its really overwhelming, and we have to find the friends who will encourage us and pray for us.

Note to CCL members: look for more with Kimberly Hahn in the September/October issue of Family Foundations.

You might remember that last year a group of us put together a bill to mandate coverage of “habilitative” services for children with special needs. This extremely frustrating process has shifted me from a default status of “big government=bad” to support of national health care.

Consider this:

• A child who has a stroke on the birthing table will receive whatever therapies s/he needs throughout his/her life. But a child who has a stroke in utero, even a day or two before labor begins, will be denied the same coverage.
• Likewise, if Alex (Heaven forbid) suffered a fall and received brain damage that made it necessary for him to receive ongoing physical, occupational, or speech therapy, he’d get it. But Julianna, who already faces an uphill battle for learning anything (aside from being cute, which she gets naturally ), gets denied based on her diagnosis of Down’s.

As long as we were covered by First Steps, we got what we needed. It is a great program. But it only goes to age 3—and Julianna didn’t even walk until 2 ½. For 2 ½ years, we threw all our effort behind the basic gross motor skills, with OT and speech taking second place. This is the natural order of learning. But by the time she walked, we had less than six months to focus on speech therapy. Six months, when it took 2 ½ years to teach her to walk.

At 3 ½, she receives one hour a week of one-on-one speech therapy from the public schools. And although her comprehension is within twelve months of normal, she’s not even as far along as Nicholas (16 mo.) in speech production. She doesn’t know how to control her muscles. She can’t even babble the back of the mouth sounds (k, g, etc.) The only solution is speech therapy, and a lot of it. Can the school give her more? Probably. We’re certainly going to ask, come fall. But through insurance, we’re just plain old out of luck, because she has a pre-existing condition—namely, Down syndrome.

And we have good insurance. Insurance that served us well, as long as we had somebody else providing therapy.

This is the inequity—dare I say, the discrimination—that the Children’s Therapy Act seeks to address. But even knowing that grassroots-level legislation takes years to get passed, the complete and total lack of responsiveness from the political leadership was disheartening, to say the least. For weeks on end, we deluged the speaker’s office with calls to assign the bill to committee. We called senators, trying to get someone to listen to us. No response.

I contacted a former state senator, hoping for advice on who might be open to listening to us. Instead, I heard how insurance is not supposed to cover ongoing needs; insurance is supposed to be for short-term, emergency care, and we should not be putting mandates on private companies. I wanted to strangle him. Political philosophy is all well and good, but not when it holds us hostage. Because folks, there is not another good option.

A health insurance company can negotiate a rate with providers. A family can’t. It’s not because the therapists are unwilling; it’s just not allowed. That means that where an insurance company pays a fraction of the fee, families pay the whole freaking thing. Every time.

We know of people who have sold their homes to pay for therapy. People who have turned down good jobs, preferring to stay in low-paying ones, because Medicare does cover therapies. People who have gone into debt to meet their child’s needs.

How is this just?

This is why I put my support behind federal health care. Because as of 2014, it requires that insurers provide coverage equally across the board, regardless of “pre-existing condition.”

Now, I know the arguments. High taxes, socialized medicine, general governmental incompetence. I get it. I do. I’ve heard from people who lived in Canada and loathed the system, saying it was absolutely useless. But I’ve also heard from people who lived in Canada and said it was fabulous. Likewise for people in Europe, who come here and are appalled by our for-profit health care system. No system is perfect; somebody’s always going to be upset. But I truly, honestly believe that most of the backlash against “Obamacare” is about political power and fear of change.

What about abortion? Well, here’s the thing. Abortion, horrific and loathsome as it is, is not going to be legislated away. Not now, anyway. We as pro-life Christians would be far better employed changing hearts and minds than banging on a door that simply cannot be broken down right now. Through Theology of the Body, through natural family planning, through support of unwed mothers, we can change the world. Because where hearts and minds are, laws will follow.

One final thought. Parents given a diagnosis of Down syndrome during pregnancy are presented with a world where their child will be discriminated against every day. If parents can’t even trust their health insurance to help them get needed care for their child, how can we be surprised by a 90% abortion rate?

We flew to Tampa on Friday for a wedding, and after a bit of a rough start, we felt our way back into coupledom. Bonnie was passing by on its eastbound, spill-cleanup-disrupting run, and we ate dinner at Rod & Reel on Anna Maria, at the edge of a tropical storm.

The waitress told us that a couple hours before we arrived, all the skimmer ships had been sitting in a line a bit north of the restaurant, as they abandoned the cleanup effort. The tiny pier held a fluctuating crowd of forty to eighty people, some fishing, some coming upstairs to eat, but apparently this was a molasses-slow day; usually a table at this place entails a two-hour wait. The owner told us he was considering closing early due to weather. (!) The wind pummeled the poor birds, the waves lashed at the pier, but the food was terrific.

It was well past sunset when we left and began meandering our way back down the island to Longboat Key and the condo. Along the way, we stopped so I could say hello to the Gulf of Mexico.

By dark, the rain had at last cleared out, and the winds along with it. I expected the surf to continue crashing all night, but it was as if, following the passage of the storm, the Gulf went to sleep. We took red velvet and cheese cake out to the beach and sat listening to the low grumble. And in the morning, we entertained guests: my uncle and aunt came to spend the morning at the beach.

Although off in the distance, the storm still pounded the Gulf, it was a perfect day at the beach. Uncle Matt and I spent an hour body-surfing the waves, which had sprung back up due to the distant storm. We had to convince Christian and Patti to come join us, but in the end we prevailed. (But I don’t have a waterproof camera, so I can’t share that.)

After lunch, we showered for the wedding and headed up to St. Petersburg, where we spent an hour in the Sunken Gardens…sweating profusely, reinforcing our certainty that we will never, never, NEVER be more than visitors in Florida. (Item: in Florida, the air conditioning is set at approximately 40 degrees. Thus, whenever you go inside you nearly shut down from hypothermia, and when you walk outside, your glasses immediately fog up. Every time. In case you didn’t know this, consider yourself warned.)

And then the camera broke. Oh, well. It ate batteries, anyway.

After a beautiful wedding on the beach, we returned to the condo to stare up at a full moon and stars that twinkled, improbably bright. Outside our window, the silhouette of two palm trees framed the darkness of the ocean. It is the first time in years that I have actually gotten to enjoy a night landscape without the interference of street lights, headlights, security lights. I had forgotten how something that would ordinarily seem pitch black is actually only murky gray.

But most of all, we spent thirty-six hours simply being two become one. Holding hands as we walked. Being quiet. Not talking about the kids…much. The partnership that we have developed these past few years served us well when we were by ourselves. We reveled in the freedom of solitude, of traveling without strollers and diapers and kids to entertain, of (gasp!) quiet in the back seat.

Frankly, as much as I felt the heart-tug when we talked to the munchkins on the phone, I wasn’t ready to return to the chaos that met us instantaneously upon returning home. But I sigh, I shrug, I wax philosophical and remind myself that endless as it seems, this stage of life will pass away soon enough.

In the meantime, I am so, so grateful for the gift.

2. My baby sister recently sold her Ford Focus, which has seen better days, into service as a crazy 8 race car. As I have never heard of such a thing, I’m betting you haven’t either. Allow yourself to be illuminated, via YouTube.

3. Have I ever shared how much I loathe playing? (Kind of a big occupational hazard of SAH motherhood, but there it is. Even when I was a kid, I was a climb-a-tree-and-read-a-book-worm.) So I cringe every time Alex says, “Mommy, will you play with me?” But today, he was entertaining himself very nicely in the living room with scissors, construction paper and tape, building a “Joker Ski” (as in jet ski). Until he leaned back dramatically and said, “Mommy, you can help me finish my Joker Ski if you want to.” Translation: Mommy get your butt out here I’m tired of doing this and I want you to finish it for me. Voila the Joker Ski:

En garde, Robin! Hehehehehehehe!

 Are you impressed? You should be!

4. While we’re on the subject of funny kid moments, last Sunday Christian went to a Cardinals game to meet a friend he hasn’t seen in years. Because of this, I got to experience single parenthood for about twelve hours. At church. Playing piano. On a choir day. All through Mass, I was trying to play the piano while Alex grabbed my left arm and whisper-shrieked, “Mommy! The number didn’t work!” (he was running the electronic number board)  and waving his hand in front of the mirror-shiny Yamaha piano cover and batting at the end of the boom microphone stand I was singing into. It was very distracting. After Mass, one of our choir members went to pick the little ones up from the nursery and came back with the classic frazzled mother expression on her face, gasping, “I don’t know how you do this!”

5. Nicholas fell asleep on the way home. I took him inside and set him down on the floor, went out to unload the cargo, and came back in to find this:

It was a tiring morning. Obviously.

6. Which was soon followed by this:

Only she’s not sleeping. She’s giggling. With her bottom going up and down.

7. Joy to the World: Advent is for Families is officially available!  

If you have kids, if you’ve ever been frustrated by December madness, if you’ve ever thought, “Surely there must be SOME way to enjoy the fun stuff in December without going crazy and forgetting about the sacred!”, then this book is for you. At $5.99 for a resource that will last you the rest of your family’s life, it’s a steal. Check it out!

It hangs in the the closet, tucked in the back with all the other clothes I don’t wear anymore, flowing concert black and high school prom red…

Like another of my blog friends, I, too, like to pull it out and put it on once in a while, as my mother did when we were little. And Alex, who after attending a wedding recently is newly intrigued by this weird grownup ritual of wearing impossible-to-keep-clean, really big dresses, insisted upon being photographer instead of one of the subjects.

So, for a few brief, glorious minutes, I got to be my bride-self again…the juxtaposition of who I once was with who I have become: flowing satin amid piles of laundry, and jammie-clad little ones on my lap.

And when it was done, we resumed our routine as if nothing had happened. Resumed the world of books, prayers, tucking in, and procrastinating by protesting that the radio is hissing, by screeching for water…

…to the ordinary tasks of cutting hair…hair that once was all black, but now begins to turn white at the temples.

Beadwork and tuxedos. That is where motherhood begins: in a union of two who become one, whose union becomes enfleshed again and again. Praise God.

***

(Note: yes, I am very proud of the fact that eleven years and three children later, I can still wear my wedding dress.)

Red Crown and Telephone

Originally uploaded by jakevol2

“If there was a formula to fix life, Jesus would have told us what it was.” —Donald Miller, in Searching for God Knows What

I ran across this quote yesterday while blog surfing, and it stopped me cold in my tracks. Isn’t that what I do? I thought. Every time I’m dissatisfied with myself, spiritually or personally, don’t I go looking for a formula for life? A sure-fire way to find peace, to raise my kids, to be a good wife, to be sure I’m doing what I’m supposed to do? Whenever I pray for guidance, am I not really asking for a phone line to Heaven and a voice at the other end with an answer that leaves no room for doubt? Or at least a burning bush, with a voice telling me to take my shoes off, and other clear, step-by-step instructions.

If only it was so easy.

Oh, God talks to me. It just doesn’t look like it did to Abraham or Moses. God feeds me the answers to my questions one tiny nugget at a time, allowing each piece to settle in, to mold itself with its surroundings until the edges blur and disappear, until it becomes part of me. I can’t say it any better than Donald Miller again, to whose beautiful words Leslie introduced me yesterday:

I know there are people who have actually gone from misery to happiness, but they didn’t do it by walking through three steps; they did it because they had a certain set of parents and heard a certain song and knew somebody who had a certain experience and saw some movie, read some book, had something happen to them like a car wreck or a trip to Seattle. Then they called on God, and a week later read something in a magazine or met a girl in Wichita, and when all this happened they had an epiphany, and somebody may have helped them fulfill what this epiphany made them feel, and several years later they rationalized this mystic experience with three steps, then they told the three steps to us in a book. I’m not saying they weren’t trying to be helpful; I bring this up only because life is complex, and the idea that you can break it down or fix it in a few steps is rather silly.

The truth is there are a million steps, and we don’t even know what the steps are, and worse, at any given moment we may not be willing or even able to take them; and still worse, they are different for you and me and they are always changing.

But you know what? I don’t think that’s “worse” at all. I think it’s beautiful. Because it means that every moment of my life–every sunset, every sunrise, every person I encounter, is a little note from God waiting to be read. It means that God is all around me at every moment, part and parcel of all the good and bad and ordinary moments of my day. It means that He trusts me to pay attention, to be smart enough to put it all together. And that is good news indeed.

Movie stars. World-famous scientists. President of the United States. Dreaming big is programmed into us as children. As we get older, the dreams shift a bit, according to our interests. In high school and college, I planned to be principal flutist of a major orchestra. These days, Christian and I joke about all the things we’ll do when I hit the bestseller list. You know. He’ll quit working. We’ll buy a house in the country. Take trips to France. Things like that.

But the vast majority of us will never be more than one among many in our endeavors. It’s a numbers game—only a few can reach the “elite” circle, and that means the rest of us, however good we are at what we do, will remain in solidly “average” territory.

It sounds depressing, but it occurs to me that this is not a bad thing. After all, it seems that whenever someone makes it big, scandal inevitably follows. To quote two recent examples, Lindsay Lohan and Mel Gibson.

Do you ever think, What is the matter with these people? Nobody acts like that! I sure do. The only thing I can figure is that success goes to people’s head—that breathing that rarified air drugs people into thinking they’re somehow different, or that the rules don’t apply. Or perhaps, it simply shuts off the part of the brain that processes such questions.

One thing I know for sure: the journey to the top of many fields requires a focus that makes it difficult, perhaps impossible, to live a balanced life. Case in point: when my mother decided to enter politics, someone told her to give up on her marriage right then and there; marriages didn’t survive in politics. (Hello—could there be any better illustration of what’s wrong with our political system, if this is the kind of person who runs it?)

Either way, I am learning to appreciate the beauty of being “average.” The diversity of my interests is a strength, not a weakness. That doesn’t mean I’m settling for anything less than excellence. I will always strive to complete tasks to the best of my abilities. I will always dream of and work toward writing (and publicizing) a bestselling novel, of placing essays in the national glossies—but I choose not to let my success or failure define my self-worth. Because here in the middle, I have a lot of company. And commonality creates community. And community is what the human experience is based upon.

What were your dreams, and how have you made peace with the reality?

Linking up with Steady Mom’s 30-Minute Blog Challenge

Oprah’s magazine, for instance. This month, it’s called “THE BIG DEAL ISSUE!” And the cover brags, “Everything Oprah’s wearing is under $100!”

Now, I don’t know about you, but just because an item of clothing costs less than $100 does not put it in my definition of a great deal. For instance: $44 earrings.  $95 bracelet. $55 watch. (Do you notice what I haven’t gotten to yet? Uh—CLOTHES?) The entire ensemble adds up to $570. And I don’t even think it’s remotely pretty. Fess up, ladies. Does anyone spend this kind of money on casual clothes? I think not! What universe is this magazine crew living in, anyway?

(Or am I the odd woman out here? Pray tell!)

Every month, O magazine makes me crazy with its pages and pages of “things we love,” not one of which is priced in a range that makes it even remotely interesting to me, even if I liked them, which I almost never do.

And yet, every month in this magazine, there is something wonderful. Usually it’s an essay. This month it’s Martha Beck. Her article is called “The Joy Dividend,” and in it, she talks about a philosophy for spending money. The centerpiece of her strategy is a box that looks like this:

Fairly self-explanatory. She says you spend good money on things you both need and LOVE (“LOVE” being far more than mere “love”), pinch pennies on things you have to have but don’t love, and then splurge on category 3 with whatever’s left, and skip the impulse buys that load your life with junk you don’t even really care for.

It’s not a perfect system, mind you. The missing link in this system is giving. She addresses retirement and savings, but not charity. I suppose you could argue that charitable giving falls into the “need” category, but I don’t know anybody who would put that in category 1 (be honest—you do it because you’re supposed to, because it’s the right thing to do, but don’t you spend that money a hundred times in your head?), and as for category 2, charity is certainly not something you should be pinching pennies on.

But aside from that, I adore this philosophy—enough to write a blog post on someone else’s idea. . How liberating is it to realize how much of what we spend money on falls into category 4?

1. I’ve been having one of those weeks again. One of those weeks where I found myself out of balance, focused myopically on writing, unable to sleep at night for being wound up about it, and spending far too little time being wife and mom. Any time this happens to me, it calls into question the whole vocation, makes me doubt whether I’m really supposed to be writing, or whether I need to stop trying to live in both worlds.

2. And then, out of nowhere, a week like this. A royalty check, payment for an article, completion of a really good query class, two queries and a personal essay sent out into the great beyond, a not-quite-rejection from a literary agent, and to top it off, forward motion on my new flute collection with GIA. Talk about a celestial message that the struggle for balance is worthwhile! If every week was this good on the writing front, I’d be making a living at it. Then again, I probably would never sleep.

3. Okay, enough about writing. I’m curious, folks—who out there still has movie rental stores nearby? Because all of ours closed. All but the one locally-owned one that has no parking b/c it’s downtown. Anyway, being movie lovers with three small children (which means that we hardly ever get to the theater), we have been driven to something we always thought we’d never do. We joined Netflix.

4. We always thought Netflix would be one of those things that we never deemed worthwhile—like cable TV. We keep basic cable—the kind of cable that they don’t even advertise because their standard package is “family cable.” But after we gave up TV for Lent for a couple of years, and saw our life shift for the better, we called the cable company and said, “Hey, whatever happened to that basic package? You know, the $15 one?” Yes, we miss out on a lot. But the more TV you have, the more you feel compelled to watch, and TV is really not a very good use of time. And it shields the kids from a lot of commercialism, too.

5. I always looked at Netflix that way. I mean, how many movies do you need to watch in a month? If you’re going to be socked with a monthly fee, you feel compelled to watch a bunch. But I have to say, I’m sold on it. We’ve more than used our money’s worth this first month, finally getting to watch the last season of Alias (we watched them all on videos, borrowed from friends, but never got to the last one…life intervened) and playing 1940s Superman videos for Alex on the computer.

6. Julianna’s summer school ended yesterday, so now summer begins in earnest. No more cute schoolbus moments till fall, and then Alex will be going to school, too. Six weeks. Wow! They say in parenthood, the days drag and the years fly. I think that about sums it up.

7. I have a babysitter this morning, so I get to go out to the nature area and sit this morning. I definitely need to find some stillness. And then, I will come home and work on adding 4000 words to my novel. Sounds like a good day. Let’s get on with it! Have a great weekend, everyone!