Help, I Need a Cobbler!

Sometimes I have rather...apocalyptic thoughts.

Like, what if we really do hit peak oil, and we can't get food shipped from God knows where, and we have to revert to some kind of agrarian/subsistence culture? What would really happen?

Part of me thinks gleefully, all those years of playing Little House on the Prairie will finally pay off! All I have to do is whip out Farmer Boy and we'll have it made! (That book was set in Malone, which is way way farther upstate New York than we are, so things should be even easier here, right?)

That family raised their own meat, dairy products, fresh and storage vegetables, maple sugar, grains...plus they had time left over to raise prized Morgan horses and make soap and clothes from their own sheeps’ wool.

Then I start to think, uh, where did they get their tools? They must have had a blacksmith in town. Oh yeah, and a mill to grind all that grain. And, I remember the cobbler came every year to make their shoes, they didn't do that themselves either....

Then I think about what I know of the Amish/Mennonites, who are sort of like Farmer Boy 2006. The image of the barn raising comes to mind. Sure, they know how to create shelters, but they don't do it alone. Each person knows how to do many things, and they help each other do them. And yet, one person is the best furniture maker, one is the best harness maker, one makes the best blueberry pie.

So maybe it's better that there are some specialists. The work is distributed among more people, expertise can be applied more efficiently, and social interdependence is reinforced.


Then I think, what do I know how to do that is practical? I come up with a very short list:

1. knit
2. crochet
3. wool felting
4. sew (by hand and machine)
5. cook
6. um, copy edit
7. um, basic HTML????

These items aren't really that helpful (well, except for clothing and warm hats) when you think about actual self-sufficiency. I could probably figure out how to grow some vegetables (Where would I get the seeds? When is the right time to plant? How do you can or preserve them for winter?) And I bet I could at least take care of fairly independent animals like chickens and goats (What kind of shelter do they need? How much land is required for forage? How are they butchered for meat?)…OK maybe I would still need some help here.

Sometimes I wonder how much more powerful and capable I would feel if I knew how to do more practical things. In a sense it's as if we are trapped in a materialistic culture, but yet don't know how any of our material things are produced. Rudolf Steiner talks about this in a lecture about education:

It is actually the case today that most people, especially those who grow up in towns, have no idea how things, paper for instance, are made.... Think of how many people there are who drink beer and have no idea how the beer is made.... I would dearly like to have a shoemaker as a teacher in the Waldorf School, if this were possible...in order that the children might really learn to make shoes, and to know, not theoretically but through their own work, what this entails...

The Kingdom of Childhood, Lecture 7

This lecture occurred in 1924; how much farther are we from practical knowledge of our surroundings today? How many of us could explain to a child how our houses are built, how our food is produced, how our clothes are made? Not to mention the glasses on my face, or the computer screen they help me see!

I think this form of interdependence (being dependent on others in an infantile way because we can't possibly understand how to make something) isn't beneficial. It's almost as if we've surrendered our will to others, to allow them to create our surroundings for us.

There are economies of scale, like with a blacksmith, miller, or wagon maker, where the level of knowledge, required tools, and materials make it reasonable to depend on experts. But sometimes the fact that I couldn't tell you how to even keep chickens or make a pair of shoes makes me a bit depressed.

Eating Locally

I just got the latest email newsletter from the Organic Consumers Association. I followed a link to a fascinating article about local food: Eating Local: There's No Plate Like Home.

I'm a big fan of eating locally-grown foods. I have been blessed to live for the last 10 years in places like Sacramento, CA and the NYC area, which have access to amazing produce. I've also been lucky to live near biodynamic farms and CSAs, which to me are an improvement on organics.


I've noticed that organic milk in stores is always ultra-pasteurized, because the dairies are few and far between. California allows raw milk products to be sold in supermarkets, so I could get them at the co-op, though they were shipped 150-200 miles. In New York, raw milk is only available directly from the farm, so I currently get raw milk through a herd share program at Pleroma Farm, which is just under 100 miles away.

I'm concerned about both the environmental costs of fossil fuel use and the prospect of diminishing supplies. I learned something about the scope of the link between food distribution and fossil fuel use in this article:

In his book Home Grown: The Case for Local Food in a Global Market, Worldwatch Institute senior researcher Brian Halweil writes about the enormous Mid-Atlantic regional distribution center for Safeway supermarkets in Upper Marlboro, Md., where all the East Coast produce is inspected. Even if the products will eventually be sold in a farmer's hometown 400 miles away, they must first be shipped to this central location then shipped back.

But this article takes the local concept further. The 100-mile diet sounds like an amazing exercise: only eat foods grown within 100 miles of your home. I could easily live on vegetables from the biodynamic garden across the street (at least in summer, but then I could get more local stuff from the co-op down the street). I could even get apples and berries from within 5 miles.

But...no coffee? No iced tea? NO CHOCOLATE? I would really miss that food of the gods.


And...no sugar? No olive oil? No salt?

The article recommends using butter instead of oil, and honey instead of sugar. I guess if I can't get coffee, I don't really need sugar to go in it.

I used to think, yeah - we should just eat locally and so many problems would be solved. We'd eat more nutritious food, use less petro resources, support local business, etc. Sounds like a winner all around.

Then I realized that I was partially basing my utopian food vision on an incorrect historical model. I was a big Little House on the Prairie junkie as a girl, and I recently bought a Little House cookbook. But they used sugar, salt, and a bunch of other imported items in addition to wild game and homemade sourdough.


Humans have been trading foods and spices for thousands of years. I realized, duh, once we had the wheel and seaworthy boats, everyone could have sugar and salt.

Sure, those things were once so prized and expensive that the woman in charge of the house would keep the keys to the spice cabinet on her person at all times. But nowadays, I think I could make an exception for sugar and salt in the local food arena.


Also, I live in a maple sugaring area, so I could get sugar from my backyard. Also I found out that there is an active salt mine within about 200 miles of my home. Gotta love the internet!

Early reading

...[Is] it really justified that we cater to the views of a materialistic culture with its demands concerning what [a young child] should know? The real point is that it may not be beneficial at all for such a child to learn to read too early. By doing so, something is being blocked for life. If children learn to read too early, they are led prematurely into absractions. if reading were taught a little later, countless potential sclerotics could lead happier lives."

-Rudolf Steiner, The Child's Changing Consciousness as the Basis of Pedagogical Practice, lecture 4

At the library the other day, I was reading a book to the kids while Papa looked for books for himself. A woman walked up to us and said how much she loved that particular book. She said she was a teacher, and she asked me how old my kids were. When I said 2 and 4, she told me that she taught her child to read at age 2, that I could easily teach my kids now.

This conversation was a shock to me. I taught myself to read at 4. At that time, that was considered early. Now, are people expecting me to teach Napoleona to read?

When I watch her play, she is so far from the world of abstractions. She just wants to splash in the brook, dig in the mud, and climb on rocks. She will sit still for picture books and stories, but more often than not gets up and starts playing before we finish.

SillyBilly is the same. He begs me to play outside. They both love to help me clean the house, work in the garden, take the recycling and compost out, etc.

Steiner states in the same lecture: "We must not lose sight of the fact that up to the second dentition the child lives by imitation." I can see that clearly myself in how SillyBilly is starting to "write." He will make tiny little marks in paper, especially on his drawings where I usually would write his name and the date. Napoleona will copy anything SillyBilly does, especially something we just told him not to do!

Both SillyBilly and Napoleona are very verbal for their ages. If they teach themselves to read as I did, then I won't mind. But I am not going to push them into reading. In Waldorf school they will start the process when it is developmentally appropriate, generally after the first tooth is lost (the "second dentition"), a sign that the next developmental stage has started.

Out of the Mouths of Babes, IV

SillyBillyspeak

Mama, I'm full up of love from YOU! (Smooch, hug, cuddle, etc.)

Driving home from the grocery store:
Mama, how come all those people are at Dairy Queen....and we're not?

SillyBilly: Mama, I want to have wings like a bird.
Mama: Why?
SillyBilly: So I can fly in the sky.
Mama: What kind of bird would you be?
SillyBilly: A vulture!
Mama: Why a vulture?
SillyBilly: Because they're big, and I like big.

SillyBilly: Mama, can you take the airport shuttle into space?
Mama: No honey, it's not the space shuttle.

(He had recently watched a video of a space shuttle launch on Papa's computer. He's obsessed with space right now. He has eagle eyes and spied the airplane symbol on a sign for a shuttle stop, so I was explaining about the airport shuttle.)

Me meme

Four jobs you have had in your life:

• Library page
  
• Call center flunky
  
• Call center supervisor
  
• Freelance copy editor
  

Four movies you would watch over and over:

• Pride and Prejudice, the Colin Firth one (OK, it was TV but now it's on DVD)
• Bourne Identity (Euro escapism, plus Matt Damon)
• Trois Couleurs - White
  
• Moonstruck (Snap out of it!)
  

Four places you have lived:

• Westchester, CA
  
• Thousand Oaks, CA
  
• Pollock Pines, CA
• Chestnut Ridge, NY
  

Four TV shows you love to watch (We don't have TV but sometimes we watch DVDs):

• Firefly
  
• Six Feet Under
• Sex in the City
• The Electric Company (When I was 4 years old)
  

Six places you have been on vacation:

• San Francisco
• Waterville Valley, NH
• Catalina Island, CA
• South Woodstock, VT
• Mendocino, CA
• Yosemite Valley (OK, it was for a wedding, but still)
• Portland, OR
  

Four websites I visit daily:

• Bradstein Household
• Craftster
• Zygote Daddy
• MetroDad (Yes, 3/4 are dad blogs. Somehow they are funnier than mom blogs.)
  

Four people I am tagging that I think might respond...?

• We don't need no stinkin tags.
  

Four things I always carry with me:

• insatiable desire to correct the world's grammar and spelling
  
• wedding ring
  
• irritation that I can't identify every wild plant I see
  
• useless trivia littering my brain
  

Book Meme

1) One book that changed your life: Health and Illness. The first Rudolf Steiner book I read. It led me to anthroposophy and Waldorf education. Must have changed my life, I now live on campus at an anthroposophical college.
2) One book you've read more than once: I am an unrepentant book repeater.
Pure escapism: Harry Potter, The Golden Compass.
Slightly more intellectual escapism: The Roads to Sata, The Robber Bride, Red Mars.
For my edification: The Incarnating Child.
For practical reasons: Guide to Child Health.
Because I have more in common with my mom every day: Pride and Prejudice.
3) One book you'd want on a desert island: Any guide to the flora and fauna of my desert island. Maybe a survival manual too. Oh, and everything on #2, since those generally reflect my favorites.
4) One book that made you laugh: Anything by Wendell Berry.
5) One book that made you cry: Anything by Wendell Berry. Also, at the end of Riding the Iron Rooster, Paul Theroux talks about the inherent joy and nobility of the Tibetan people, and of their deep abiding love for the Dalai Lama. All they want is autonomy, and their god-king back home.
6) One book you wish had been written: Perhaps something about how to raise happy, healthy, respectful kids while pursuing fulfilling, well-paying work and losing weight effortlessly. It's good to dream.
7) One book you wish had never been written: Hmmm...free speech is very important. I could wish that some books weren't written because they offend me, but then I could just not read them. I could wish that hateful books weren't written because they inculcate more hatred in the world, but then there's that pesky concept of free will, too.
8) The book you are currently reading: Just finished What's Making You Angry?, The Minotaur, and most of Emma.
9) One book you've been meaning to read: I tried to read Middlemarch while on vacation but I just couldn't finish it. I'd like to read the Koran some day though I would be skeptical of the effects of translation.
10) Tag? No thanks.

Vacation, All I Ever Wanted

For the sake of Papa's sanity in beginning the Master's Degree program at The Barfield School of Sunbridge College, the Huntlings and I went to visit the grandparents in Southern California. For 16 days, away from Papa, away from home, away from anything familiar.

Flying out of Newark, we sat on the tarmac for 90 minutes (!) waiting for thunderstorms to clear out of our flight path. After that it was easy going, especially the sticker books I brought to surprise the kids. They played with them for hours. Stickers rock.

Nana met us at LAX to help us shlep our stuff. Traveling with two car seats adds another dimension to everything, especially with only one adult to carry stuff and hold hands with the kids. But once we got the rental car, everything went well.


The day after we arrived, we went to Elvenstar Riding Academy, owned by the parents of one of Nana's old friends. We were supposed to have pony rides, but because of the intense heat wave, the day's rides were cancelled. We still got to meet some of the ponies and feed them some carrots before they were hosed down and stabled.


The next event was the trip to the beach. Point Mugu is one of my favorite beaches. Rarely are there any people there, but there are great rocks for climbing, beautiful Boney Mountain as a backdrop, and good sand for playing. Once (pre-Huntlings) Papa and I saw dolphins body surfing there. This time, we saw pelicans diving for fish and a sea lion in the water.

But, disaster struck first thing. I wanted the kids to get their toes wet, but I forgot that this isn't a beach for actually going into the water. We kept creeping closer and closer, and then a bigger wave came along. It knocked the kids over, and since I was holding their hands, I went over too. A kind man came over and rescued us and gave us towels to dry off once I determined that I had left our towels back at grandpa's house, along with any extra dry clothes! Bad Mama, no biscuit.

Needless to say, the kids were pretty traumatized. We tried to stay and play in the sand, but it was pretty foggy and cold that day so we beat a hasty retreat. We returned the next day, since I didn't want the kids to become permanently afraid of the beach. Then I saw the sign warning us not to go into the water! (Really that was about rip tides and lack of lifeguards, but still.) It was sunny, we stayed far away from the water and made this killer sand castle:


After that, we stayed low profile. We visited with cousins, hung out at Nana's house, played at the park. We went to the Chumash Interpretive Center, which was small but just right for the toddler attention span. Very cool exhibits about the Chumash culture, history, and crafts. Plus, we saw a real live fence lizard out front! We opted out of the Ventura County Fair and went to an animal show at America's Teaching Zoo at Moorpark College instead. We saw a baboon eat an entire banana, peel and all.

It was challenging to keep up with our family rhythms and customs. Naps and bedtimes creeped later and later. Televisions were on, and Nana rented animal videos. Vegetable consumption plummeted by the day. But overall the kids were happy and healthy though a bit out of sorts.

Coming home, Grandpa Walt drove us to LAX and kindly returned our rental car for us. Unfortunately, we arrived at the airport early. Four hours early. So, we ate lots of snacks, played with yet more sticker books, and then ate more snacks. Not much else to do for little kids at Terminal 4.

Luckily our plane took off on time and this time we had a great view of the ocean, Los Angeles, and the desert before cloud cover took over. We landed on time and Papa was there to meet us. I didn't think SillyBilly was going to ever release him from that death grip around his neck! Between a long wait for our luggage, a long drive home, and a late dinner, we didn't get to bed until almost midnight.

I can't say it was truly a vacation for me, but SillyBilly summed up the kids' feelings on it: I want to live in California to be with my grandparents!

Special thanks to Nana, Grandpa Dave, Grandpa Walt, and Grandma Pat for helping make this trip happen.

Out of the Mouths of Babes, III

At the dinner table after Mama and Papa have been talking about work...

Napoleona: I'm going to have my workbooks to help my students.
Mama: You mean like Papa helps students? (Papa is the Registrar of Sunbridge College.)
Napoleona: Yeah.
Mama: Do you work at Papa's work?
Napoleona: No, at Grammy and Grampa's house.
Mama: You work at Grammy and Grampa's?
Napoleona: Next to their house.
Mama: You work at the Holderness School? (They live near this school in Plymouth, NH.)
Napoleona: Yes, the doors are wide open for me there. (Holding her arms out to the sides, wide open.)

Evidently Napoleona sees a bright future for herself in the education field.

Update: The Huntlings and I are going to visit the West Coast grandparents for the next two weeks while Papa works on his Master's degree. Postings may be sparse until we return.

Out of the Mouths of Babes, II

A conversation as we are driving home from running an errand:

SillyBilly: Mama, a lot of people have statues of Jesus and Mary in their yards.
Mama: Yes, sweetie, they do.
SillyBilly: Why do they do that?
Mama: Well, (thinking fast) they love Jesus and Mary and want something to remind them of it, and to make their yards pretty.
SillyBilly: I want a Jesus statue, Mama.
Mama: Why's that?
SillyBilly: Because I love Jesus so much.
Mama: Why do you love him?
SillyBilly: Because I'm grateful for the food.

Editorial note: I realize that's 3 or 4 pictures of Jesus and/or Mary on this blog. I'm not Catholic, I'm actually Jewish by birth and not anything formal by practice.

However, Mary and Jesus are an archetype of familial love and I am teaching my children about their story. Just as I tell them about Buddha and the Dalai Lama. Plus religious artwork is beautiful.

I also tell my children about their guardian angels and that they go up to visit heaven every time they sleep. I also tell them that when we die, we go to heaven for a while, and then after a nice rest up there we come back for another life down here.

We say or sing a different grace for each meal and then say "thank you for our meal" afterwards. We are trying to help our children learn about gratitude. Sometimes during the meal we talk about all the people and work involved in producing our food, just as we talk about what plants and animals provide our food. So, that's probably the source of this conversation.

Motherhood: Put Up or Shut Up?

Judith Warner, in the last Sunday NY Times, wrote a column about the socioeconomic stresses on parenthood. She references Barbara Dafoe Whitehead's lead essay in the "State of Our Unions" report, released recently by the National Marriage Project at Rutgers University.

The gist of Whitehead's essay was that today's parents are stressed out, anxious and depressed, in part because they were spoiled by their child-free years of fun, business achievements and disposable incomes.

Oh, OK. Before I had kids, I worked as a supervisor in a health insurance call center. Talk about stygian. I was always stressed out and depressed, because I HATED my well-paying successful job. I never looked back once I quit that job and count my lucky stars that we can survive on one income. So, if I have problems now, it's because I miss all that glamour??

Warner continues:

...to assert that mothers and fathers who express something other than Hallmark card sentiments about life with children somehow have issues with parenthood, is profoundly unfair. But it isn't new. For at least five years now, ever since "mommy lit" emerged as a best-selling book genre, there have been stolid folk who have been using words like "whiners" and "spoiled" to get parents -- and educated mothers in particular -- to put up or shut up. And the way they most commonly do this is to recast big social problems as the little personal problems of those who "complain" about them....The situation is the worst among -- Guess who? -- highly educated professional women....

It does seem that in our society we expect black and white opinions. Parenting is either exalted or stygian. If I describe how frustrating my toddlers are, apparently that makes me a spoiled overeducated whiner.

On the contrary, earth to Rutgers: toddlers have always been frustrating and challenging. It's the nature of the little beasts. Perhaps the advent of mommy lit and blogs has simply facilitated the widespread expression of these feelings.

Warner continues:

Yet "the rising chorus of complaint" that Whitehead and other critics decry is based upon rock-solid reality. The depression and anxiety and angst and guilt they see -- and trivialize -- aren't due to parents' cravings for bigger cars or better clothes; they're due to the fact that life for most parents is really hard. It's expensive and competitive and stressful and fatiguing, for reasons that have nothing to do with having a bad attitude toward the challenges -- and pleasures -- of child-rearing.

And:

Talking about these problems isn't a condemnation of parenthood; it's a condemnation of the way parenthood is being lived, in our culture, at this particular time...[these problems] require social change -- a new attitude toward collective responsibility, a new of infusion of meaning into debates about our nation's values.

If we are going to cast mothers into a madonna/complaining ungrateful shrew paradigm, then let's provide for mothers to live like madonnas. Let's provide ways for women to find good child care if they choose to work. Let's provide affordable health care so parents don't make decisions out of fear for their children's physical well-being. Let's help ensure economic stability to families so that parenthood doesn't equal poverty.

Out of the mouths of babes

SillyBilly's vocabulary list

1) Cilantula (trying to say cilantro): A hairy green spider, good in salsa.


2) A hassle of kids: What you get when all the neighbors get together to play.

3) Microscopity teeny tiny eeny weeny bite: describing his last bite of dinner (SillyBilly subscribes to the Zeno's dichotomy paradox method of eating his last bite).

Stories

SillyBilly: Mama, I'm the strongest person in the world.
Mama: Why's that?
SillyBilly: I can do things no one else can do.
Mama: Like what?
SillyBilly: I can crack stones. I can crack blocks. I can crack the world.

Napoleona's story, told to us after dinner tonight:

Once upon a time, there was a lion, an elephant and a tiger. They were walking through a deep, dark forest, and they found a cave. There was a light in the cave, and a monster came out. The monster bounced up and down. So the animals said "RRRAAAHHH" and the monster went back in the cave. Then the animals went to their own Africa and climbed up a tree, and they lived happily ever after.

Love and Pain

Terrors are to come. The earth
is poisoned with narrow lives.
I think of you. What you will

live through, or perish by, eats
at my heart. What have I done? I
need better answers than there are

to the pain of coming to see
what was done in blindness,
loving what I cannot save. Nor,

your eyes turning toward me,
can I wish your lives unmade
though the pain of them is on me.

-Wendell Berry, Openings, 1968

What a hard thing it is to be a parent. What a challenge to allow the child to be free to err, to inflict and experience pain, to suffer. How blind we are, in that we cannot see the future, we cannot prevent what calls to the child out of their destiny.

But how sure I am that I love them and will love them regardless. That they are perfect just as they are, and that my criticisms are based on blindness to that fact.

IKEA, How Do I Love Thee?

We spent yet another Saturday morning at IKEA with the Huntlings. We can't go on Sunday thanks to Paramus/Bergen County's lovely blue laws. Good thing we're not observant Jews or Muslims, or we'd never get our share of the big blue store.

Over the years we've developed a love/hate relationship with IKEA products. Healthy skepticism because of the prevalent plastic and particleboard versus love of their low prices and egalitarianism. It's nice to have stuff that is actually designed for form as well as function, but is it so nice to have things be almost disposable in quality?

From their vision:

The IKEA business idea is to offer a wide range of home furnishings with good design and function at prices so low that as many people as possible will be able to afford them.

We like that they are extremely kid-friendly. What other big store has such an awesome baby care room for changing diapers and breastfeeding (including a comfy armchair), yummy food, and play areas throughout the store?

Despite this, SillyBilly recently described IKEA as "stuff, stuff, stuff...not enough toys." He's still not completely toilet trained so he can't go into the big Småland play area yet, but he does love the paper measuring tapes and miniature pencils available in mass quantities.

Plus my maternal grandfather came from southwest Sweden, so I have a genetic love of Swedish things. My 2 year old already recognizes Dala horses and slurps up lingonberry jam.


There are a few things we've found that have become favorites:

Minnen Drake Dragon - Good protection against scary monsters.

Duktig play pots and pans - Good practice for those chores coming up in a few years.

Rens sheepskins - We used these in the bassinet and now as rugs in the kids' room.

Svit forks and spoons - Great kid-sized real cutlery.

Charm cheese grater - Totally cheap yet a great design.

Invitera teapot - Inexpensive yet a pretty color and shape.

Kladd bibs - Cheap and necessary when Napoleona only sometimes remembers not to use her fingers.

IKEA 365 big bowls and Rondo little bowls - We use these daily and they've lasted years with only a few chips.

And let's not forget the Swedish meatballs.

Pets=kids=pets?

(OK, I chose this image not just for the cat theme...it's essentially a highbrow version of dogs playing poker, and that is just funny.)

Before the Huntlings were born, we had 4 indoor cats and a dog. I used to muse on how pets seemed like kids.

We called our cats "little furry agents of chaos". They would regularly eat and spread around bouquets of flowers (with the obligatory spit up piles to follow), shed black hair on white things and white hair on black things, and knock over glasses of water left on the dining room table overnight.

Now we have toddlers who regularly spread toys all over the house, spit up/pee/poop/etc. on the couch/floor/clothes/etc., knock over anything they can reach, and draw on the walls.

Now that I am at home with the kids, I have become more obsessed with cleaning than ever before. When I was single and newlywed, I hated cleaning but always wanted a clean house. Since I couldn't afford a maid, our homes were pretty grungy, especially with all that animal hair. Now, I read books about cleaning written by Manhattan lawyers (who knew that baking soda paste would truly get black crayon off of butcher block counters?), articles about spiritualizing housework (who knew you could venerate your toilet as you clean it?), and I actually make the bed in the morning. Last night instead of lolling about reading the newspaper or blogging before bed, I scrubbed out the bathtub.

What happened? I chalk it up to will power. I've always wanted a clean house, now I actually get myself to do something about it. Instead of being lazy and miserable, I'm slightly less lazy and a lot less miserable.

I'm trying to be this way partly for my own sanity in the face of 4 little furry agents of chaos (2 of the 4 cats still with us, and the two new ones with opposable thumbs), and partly so that the Huntlings can learn both to make happen what they want in life and to keep their home clean.

So after breakfast when I'm doing the dishes and SillyBilly gets his broom and says "I'm going to do my morning chores Mama," I'm smiling.

Reading is Fundamental?

My kids already love books at three and two years old. Papa and I are big readers, so it's only natural that we would read to our kids and have lots of books around. We go to the library regularly and have many of our own kids' books too. I taught myself to read at age 4.

Now, Waldorf early childhood method proponents discourage reading before age 7 or so, because in the first 7 years the child has more of a "picture consciousness." Children in the early years work from the will, meaning through movement, and through imitation. Their life forces are working to form their physical bodies. Once the child hits 7 or 8, their life forces are free to help them develop more intellectual and memory functions (though they aren't really working with pure intellect yet).

So, I've been pondering lately whether we are doing the Huntlings a disservice in reading with them so much. It's true, Papa and I tend to be pretty sedentary, temperamentally speaking. Toddlers however are not sedentary beings and need to play, especially outdoors. Our kids are already fairly verbal and intellectual, so I am wary of over-stimulating that aspect so that they are out of balance.

I came across this item in the latest Utne magazine:

...Sky Hiatt makes a case against literacy, saying that the written word "corrodes time spent exploring the real world" and that raising children on books closes, not opens their minds, causing them to develop "patterns of thought honed into chapters dominated by idea fragments."
-Species Traitor: An Insurrectionary Anarcho Primitivist Journal

Well. I have a friend back in California who is homeschooling her kids partly so that they will experience things before they read about them. I'm not sure how she will work atomic theory into her curriculum, but I respect her thinking. I've looked at birding books with the Huntlings, but we get a much bigger kick out of seeing Robin Redbreast on the lawn or hearing a cardinal peeping at us from the tree by our front door.

There have been times when I consciously tried not to read. When SillyBilly was born he spent several weeks in the hospital, so we made the trip back and forth at least once a day on the highway. One day I decided I didn't want my brain filled with advertising, so I looked everywhere but at the numerous billboards and highway signs. It was incredibly hard to do. I think my brain is wired to look at words if they are available. One year for Lent (a convenient time to do this kind of thing even though we're not Catholic) I gave up reading for pleasure. That was even harder in a way, because I read for relaxation and at the time I had a fairly stressful office job. It was an ingrained habit I struggled to overcome.

So, are we condemning our kids to a life of compulsive reading? Or are we opening up a wonderfully rich world of knowledge and pleasure? Is it all in the timing as the Waldorf folks say?

Angry Nap

I spent an hour and a half trying to get Napoleona to sleep today, without success. Perhaps it's too hot and humid, perhaps she was overtired, perhaps she's just being a butthead.

It's a huge challenge to try not to be angry at times like this. Most of the time, I fail. For a while I am peaceful, non-violent-communication-using Mama. I think, the child is asking me to erect a boundary for her. I need to provide the boundary in a firm but kind way.

But after an hour and a half, she just won't be quiet. SillyBilly was so tired he passed out after a minute of rocking. So the girl child and I are sitting on my bed while he sleeps so that she won't disturb him. She can quietly read books while I distract myself from being angry. So much for sitting quietly with my emotions.

I start to get resentful that for all my work trying to create a nice naptime, I just end up frustrated and angry. I make the room dark and quiet, everybody gets a drink of water, then I rock and sing and tell stories. Nothing seems to calm her down. I try to use NVC and ask her what she needs, to which she replies, "Papa."

I know quite well that what she needs is sleep. And I need an afternoon break from being Mama. Today, neither of us gets what we want.

Papa and I used to joke, "It's a good thing these kids are so cute..." Most of the time I just need to look at them being their busy selves and I am overcome with a wave of love. Yesterday SillyBilly went to the grocery store with Papa and came back bearing a bouquet of chrysanthemums. "I got them for you to make you happy Mama." I had to hide my tears as I gave him a big hug and kiss. Napoleona has finally started to say and sing grace with us at meals, which always gets a big smile out of Mama and Papa.

But....today I shake my fist at all the grandparents for being too far away to come babysit.

Sneak Poop Attack

Recently SillyBilly finally decided to use the toilet. We have had a little plastic toilet for a long time, but he used it only grudgingly. Then he had a high fever (see previous post) and after that he said he wanted to wear big boy underwear.

So, now we're back to potty training. That term always sounds like puppy training to me, but really that's kind of how it is. Short of putting down newspapers in the corner, we sit on the potty about once every waking hour. It's amazing how focused a kid can be on playing, so that basic bodily functions are totally under the radar. Like puppies, they need constant vigilance and many, many repetitions.

It used to be that SillyBilly would invariably poop only when asleep. (I've wondered if it had something to do with needing to be out of his body before he could let go.) He has pretty sensitive skin, so sleeping with a poopy diaper would cause major weeping diaper rash. Then trying to change him would involve screaming and thrashing (him and me), often at 2 in the morning.

So, any movement (ha!) toward using the toilet has been fervently awaited. Now, while I am rocking Napoleona to sleep at naptime, SillyBilly goes potty all by himself. The first time I just heard the toilet flush in the other room and when I came out to get him, he said "Mama, I did a sneaky poop!"

Worthy of Imitation?

"The care with which an item is placed on a shelf, a door closed, or a chair moved is noticed and replicated by our young [children]. We must be consciously aware of the quality of our movements, for whether we like it or not, we will see the children mirror for us what we have presented to them as it emerges in their actions and play."

-Karen Smith, "The Role of Purposeful Work in a Waldorf Kindergarten"
The Online Waldorf Library

Yesterday as we ate our snack, I realized I was slouching. As I sat up straight, I watched SillyBilly sit up himself, even though he wasn't looking directly at me.

It was a powerful moment for me, bringing home the concept in anthroposophy that in the first 7 years, the child learns primarily through imitation.

I am not particularly physically active, in fact I love sitting very still while I read novels and eat chocolate. Yet I would like my children to be active and healthy. I love that my son is skinny and muscular, unlike myself as a chubby child. I want my kids to be able to use their bodies to achieve their goals, not be hindered by physical limitation. So it's a struggle to get myself active on their behalf.

I have also observed that when I act angry or impatient, so do the children. And whoever said "out of the mouths of babes" got it so right. It's always a moment of chagrin when a child repeats something they shouldn't have heard in the first place. Around here we don't use swear words anyway, but still I have heard Napoleona say to SillyBilly, "Don't do that ever again!" in a very stern tone.

What a gift it has been to understand that the young child imitates and must be active. Tonight we were all hungry and tired and dinner was not ready yet. The kids were getting a bit wild, so I put Napoleona in her high chair, called SillyBilly over, and we all ripped up chard leaves into a pot. This activity allowed them to calm down, focus their attention, and do purposeful work to get dinner done. There was very little ruckus after that. Magic!

Bugs and other wildlife

So far in the new house we have microscopic brown ants invading the cats' food dishes, enormous and very speedy ants cruising around the whole house, a wasp that Duncan unfortunately tried to play with, various tiny spiders and house flies.

Now, having lived in coastal areas of California, both Papa Hunt and I have lots of experience with ants, and aren't too fond of them. I remember a 2-3 inch wide swath of them crossing our living room from the sliding glass door to the kitchen trash. I remember ants coming inside in the summer for water and the winter for food.

In our last house we had ants that didn't try too hard. They would come munch on crumbs in the kitchen occasionally, and they liked any kibble bits the cats dropped on the floor, but really they never tried to invade. But I have a bad feeling about the ants here. I have never seen those tiny brown ones before, and the big ones are really fast and aggressive.

This morning we walked over to the Pfeiffer Center garden to buy some chard and green beans. They have a little pond with some koi and lots of lily pads waiting for some frogs. The Huntlings got a big kick out of the tadpoles the gardeners are cultivating in tubs next to the pond. We only saw one with the beginnings of legs so it will be a while before the pond is froggy. We also got to see some of the garden's bees coming to drink there.

Yesterday right by Papa Hunt's office we saw a big black rat snake. He (?) was in some tall grass in the sun, but when we stepped near, swoosh! That was a fast snake.



Then the other day, Papa Hunt saw a woodchuck standing on its hind legs munching on raspberries at our old house. I never knew something so fat and rolypoly could do that. (The woodchuck, not Papa.) Those raspberries sure are sweet though.

When I think back on our time in Sacramento, I remember lots of wildlife. The American River Parkway was home to many creatures year-round, including mule deer, turkeys, coyotes, red-tailed hawks, river otters, salmon, and acorn woodpeckers. But most of these animals are quite shy or difficult to spot, so that the Huntlings would have had trouble experiencing them.

I'm grateful that this area of New York, though built up, seems to have plenty of wildlife accessible to the kids. Also we can go visit the cows and chickens at the Fellowship farm, and go up a few times a year to Pleroma Farm to pick up shares of raw milk and eggs. I want my kids to know about domestic animals and where their food comes from, as well as the wild animals around us. I think this knowledge helps children feel more secure and comfortable in the world.

Brookside living

Aaahh, moving. The best I can say is, we know where all of our possessions are. They are in the basement.

We live in a community where a non-profit educational foundation owns the land and most of the buildings, including housing. So, every July 1 there is a big shuffle among students, faculty and staff of the various entities involved.

We were in a very small basement apartment. It had its good qualities, but primarily it was dark, damp, and had a very creaky ceiling. So we took our chance and moved onto some "on-campus housing" as Papa puts it so well.

Our new house is about the same size as the last, but it's a duplex with no one above us, and a full basement below us, so the previous problems are gone. Also we have a brook in the backyard, to the delight of the Huntlings. The picture isn't of our brook, but that's remarkably close to how it looks.

Moving is always a mixed bag for me. I love to move into a new clean space, full of possibilities for arranging our nest. This time we moved into a space with some measure of "charm," meaning for us wood floors, lots of windows, walls painted something other than white (in this case, butter yellow, pink, and lavender...not as freaky as it sounds, I promise) and the aformentioned brook.

However we chose to paint our old apartment because it sorely needed it. And I always find it hard to focus on cleaning up the old place when a new tantalizingly fresh space awaits. And it's been raining or at least crazy humid for days, making everything about moving just that much more icky.

At least this time no one got the flu, put out their back, got towed (thanks to Papa Bradstein for that walk down memory lane!), or otherwise suffered. Papa Hunt is a pretty tired pup right now, but we survived.

Now we just need a phone, an ISP, window coverings (did I mention our front yard view is the dorm?)....