Yes, I know the title is in french. I speak the language because I have relatives there, although that has nothing to do with my entry today.
Today was about revolution . . . sort of.
We are in the midst of Spring Break for our public schools, so there were quite a few teenagers walking around during the middle of the day. I was running errands and saw a group of them walking towards me. They were all dressed in clothes that people would desribe in two ways: either typical teenagers or trying too hard to be counter-cultural. D@!& the Man!
It got me thinking: are they really being counter-cultural if the way they are dressed would also elicit the response of, "typical teenager?" Probably not. The problem with their perceived counter-culturalism is not the well known fact teenagers are constantly bucking the system. No, the problem is what they believe to be anti-establishment is actually now an accepted norm.
There is a culture of consumption, of pleasure at all costs, avoidance of pain above all things dominating the American landscape. It is, as I learned in a prayer, "a culture of death." Oddly enough, these teens were wearing colorful skulls on their black t-shirts. How can consumption, pleasure and no-pain lead to death? That is a loaded question, which I plan to address at a later time. Back to the revolution.
So, if the counter-culture of yore is now mainstream . . . what is counter-cultural? Saying, "no," is not found in mainstream parenting. Credit cards and financing lead to instant gratification. There is more, but take a look at my shelfari bookshelf. The first book you see should be, Crunchy Cons, authored by Rod Dreher. He outlines the new subculture sweeping America. The main cog is the stay-at-home mom.
What? The SAHM? Are you kidding? How in the world is that anti-establishment? Well, here is how: I am a SAHM. I wasn't comfortable in that position until recently. I felt I needed to be out there earning a living, making a name, and being a mom. We needed money to pay for our "stuff". This was stuff we didn't even have yet. Things I thought we might need. Dave Ramsey terms this as, "stuffitis." Hmmm, did I ever have stuffitis. I chose to stay home anyway, because in my heart I knew it was the right thing to do.
Now, please don't think I am against mothers working outside the home. There are plenty of circumstances where is it necessary for the survival of the family. That in and of itself can be a huge sacrifice for a family to make. I am talking about working outside the home for survival of the stuff. I had to make a choice; my family or the stuff. My husband and I chose our family.
What makes that revolutionary? We don't have a great TV. In fact, we only have one TV. Most households have three or more. We had outdated cel phones until I washed and dried mine. (Yes, if you wash and dry a cel phone, it will cease to work.) We didn't even have text messaging plans. We don't have cable outside of the local channels. Majority of our children's toys do not require batteries. We often times spend evenings reading . . . boring, right? Not at all. Refreshing. We chose our family over the stuff, kind of without realizing what we were doing.
Me staying at home made us have to re-evaluate our priorities. We find great pleasure in time with eachother. We aren't worried about what will happen to the main character on that prime time show, we are worried about what is going on in the lives of our family and friends. We throw the ball to our dog and watch our children grow up (too quickly, I might add).
Like I said before, I wasn't all that wrapped up in being a SAHM at first, but now I feel like I am leading a revolution of sorts. We are different because our values are different and we are trying for lives that reflect our values.
Colored skulls and punk rock have been overrun by shirts that hide spit-up and the latest "We Might Be Giants" children's CD. I enjoy my newfound counter-culturalism. It isn't fake or manufactured. And hey, who would've thought mommies would be the next revolutionaries?
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Monday, March 30, 2009
Pure and Innocent Chickweed
So, in my last post, I wrote,
"While looking up the definition of crunchy I happened across the word chickweed. This has nothing to do with being crunchy or not, I just thought it was an interesting word. It refers to pink weeds, or those little flowers our children bring us from the backyard."
The reason I said I would write more about that later is my son. He is not quite 20 months old and doesn't understand what makes a weed a weed. He was in the backyard with me picking dandelions and these little purple flowering things (I don't know what they are). He was also picking blades of grass and delivering those to me as well. He was very proud of himself and kept asking me, "is it?"
At first I kept telling him, weeds, flowers or grass. Then he brought me a clover. Again he asked what it was and I answered, "it's a clover." As he continued around the backyard, I realized the dandelions remaining in the grass looked kind of cheerful; little bursts of yellow light in a sea of green. The purple flowers were on weeds my husband and I used to curse when in pursuit of our golf course lawn. And let's not even start with the clover.
But to my son, they are all something new and different. The grass, the dandelions, the little purple flowers and the clover. He doesn't undertand the difference between a tulip in the flowerbed and a pretty yellow dandelion amidst the grass. None of these were weeds until it was decided by people who didn't want them in their way. There is something inocent and pure about a little boy delivering what he thinks are beautiful and exotic specimens to his mommy.
The next time he came over to me with a clover I gave him a hug and said, "thank you." He looked at me and said, "kanka you," and walked off with the dog in tow.
Pure and innocent. I want him to stay that way as long as possible. His baby sister, too. That is the reason I am crunching along, my children.
"While looking up the definition of crunchy I happened across the word chickweed. This has nothing to do with being crunchy or not, I just thought it was an interesting word. It refers to pink weeds, or those little flowers our children bring us from the backyard."
The reason I said I would write more about that later is my son. He is not quite 20 months old and doesn't understand what makes a weed a weed. He was in the backyard with me picking dandelions and these little purple flowering things (I don't know what they are). He was also picking blades of grass and delivering those to me as well. He was very proud of himself and kept asking me, "is it?"
At first I kept telling him, weeds, flowers or grass. Then he brought me a clover. Again he asked what it was and I answered, "it's a clover." As he continued around the backyard, I realized the dandelions remaining in the grass looked kind of cheerful; little bursts of yellow light in a sea of green. The purple flowers were on weeds my husband and I used to curse when in pursuit of our golf course lawn. And let's not even start with the clover.
But to my son, they are all something new and different. The grass, the dandelions, the little purple flowers and the clover. He doesn't undertand the difference between a tulip in the flowerbed and a pretty yellow dandelion amidst the grass. None of these were weeds until it was decided by people who didn't want them in their way. There is something inocent and pure about a little boy delivering what he thinks are beautiful and exotic specimens to his mommy.
The next time he came over to me with a clover I gave him a hug and said, "thank you." He looked at me and said, "kanka you," and walked off with the dog in tow.
Pure and innocent. I want him to stay that way as long as possible. His baby sister, too. That is the reason I am crunching along, my children.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Hmmm . . . am I really "Crunchy?"
Crunchy . . . I hear this word more and more.
It used to be, "hippy," or, "tree-hugger," and then it progressed to, "granola," and now, "crunchy."
Am I a hippy? I don't think so.
Am I a tree-hugger? That depends on who you ask.
Am I granola? I don't feel like oats, honey and almonds!
I guess I must be crunchy because I am not conventional. Earlier today a good friend described me as earthy. Perhaps that seals the deal: I am crunchy. I better get into this definition and be sure I have been correctly classified!
While looking up the definition of crunchy I happened across the word chickweed. This has nothing to do with being crunchy or not, I just thought it was an interesting word. It refers to pink weeds, or those little flowers our children bring us from the backyard. (More on this later)
Crunchy has an awful dictionary definition: making a crunching sound when chewed or pressed (Websters Collegiate, 10th). Great, that helped. At least it is an adjective. Let's try crunch. It is either a noun or a verb and has to do with crushing, processing information or critical situations (to wildly paraphrase). Perhaps there is something to this beyond the direct correlation to the preparation and eating of granola or other crunchy foods. (There was no pun intended. Honestly, how else would you describe granola?)
Let's go back to why my friend called me earthy. We were discussing something rather mundane over the telephone and got into a discussion about bread flour. I mentioned I had been using a lot of it lately and was considering buying a 50 lb bag at the Country Pantry, a great store nearby. I mentioned it is also the place where I buy the grains to make my children's cereals. That is when she pronounced me earthy.
I make my own bread. Ok, I also make all of my children's food. The only processed food in the house is organic or all natural and I can tell you what each ingredient is, where to get it and none of them require chemistry fellowships to understand. I switched to cloth diapers and subsequently cancelled my garbage service. We recycle ferverently and I am planning a compost bin into my garden for the summer. What's so earthy/crunchy about that? Oh, I think that was her nice, loving way of saying, "you sure are weird, but we love you anyway!"
Did I always make my own bread? No. Did I always use cloth diapers? Nope. Have I always purchased as much organic produce and dairy as I could afford? No, not really. Well then, why now?
I have decided to be more intentional in my living.
This wasn't an overnight change, it has been gradual. But here is the tie in; I believe we are losing something of our culture, we are in a "critical situation." The best place to begin replacing that loss is at the most basic level, the family. I take my family's most basic needs into account and get back to basics in that regard as well. Basic. That's it. The simplest bread is made from scratch. The simplest diapers are made with materials like cotton, bamboo, and hemp. The simplest foods are those with the fewest chemicals . . . but there is more . . . so much more!
Being crunchy is a whole mindset. I would describe it as "back to basics," but being called crunchy is better than being called base! I suppose I have been categorized correctly. Are you crunchy? Whether you bought the organic cotton pj's because they were super soft or because you were being mindful of their origins doesn't matter . . . a lot crunchy or not, a little crunch can go a long way!
It used to be, "hippy," or, "tree-hugger," and then it progressed to, "granola," and now, "crunchy."
Am I a hippy? I don't think so.
Am I a tree-hugger? That depends on who you ask.
Am I granola? I don't feel like oats, honey and almonds!
I guess I must be crunchy because I am not conventional. Earlier today a good friend described me as earthy. Perhaps that seals the deal: I am crunchy. I better get into this definition and be sure I have been correctly classified!
While looking up the definition of crunchy I happened across the word chickweed. This has nothing to do with being crunchy or not, I just thought it was an interesting word. It refers to pink weeds, or those little flowers our children bring us from the backyard. (More on this later)
Crunchy has an awful dictionary definition: making a crunching sound when chewed or pressed (Websters Collegiate, 10th). Great, that helped. At least it is an adjective. Let's try crunch. It is either a noun or a verb and has to do with crushing, processing information or critical situations (to wildly paraphrase). Perhaps there is something to this beyond the direct correlation to the preparation and eating of granola or other crunchy foods. (There was no pun intended. Honestly, how else would you describe granola?)
Let's go back to why my friend called me earthy. We were discussing something rather mundane over the telephone and got into a discussion about bread flour. I mentioned I had been using a lot of it lately and was considering buying a 50 lb bag at the Country Pantry, a great store nearby. I mentioned it is also the place where I buy the grains to make my children's cereals. That is when she pronounced me earthy.
I make my own bread. Ok, I also make all of my children's food. The only processed food in the house is organic or all natural and I can tell you what each ingredient is, where to get it and none of them require chemistry fellowships to understand. I switched to cloth diapers and subsequently cancelled my garbage service. We recycle ferverently and I am planning a compost bin into my garden for the summer. What's so earthy/crunchy about that? Oh, I think that was her nice, loving way of saying, "you sure are weird, but we love you anyway!"
Did I always make my own bread? No. Did I always use cloth diapers? Nope. Have I always purchased as much organic produce and dairy as I could afford? No, not really. Well then, why now?
I have decided to be more intentional in my living.
This wasn't an overnight change, it has been gradual. But here is the tie in; I believe we are losing something of our culture, we are in a "critical situation." The best place to begin replacing that loss is at the most basic level, the family. I take my family's most basic needs into account and get back to basics in that regard as well. Basic. That's it. The simplest bread is made from scratch. The simplest diapers are made with materials like cotton, bamboo, and hemp. The simplest foods are those with the fewest chemicals . . . but there is more . . . so much more!
Being crunchy is a whole mindset. I would describe it as "back to basics," but being called crunchy is better than being called base! I suppose I have been categorized correctly. Are you crunchy? Whether you bought the organic cotton pj's because they were super soft or because you were being mindful of their origins doesn't matter . . . a lot crunchy or not, a little crunch can go a long way!
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