Road Trip

Matt came home from his road trip to Ohio last night, so now (no doubt briefly) all my chicks are back in the nest.

This road trip, with Matt and his friends Justin and Brandon, was only about 10% about going to see Justin’s brother in Ohio and their friends at Bible school in Indiana. The rest was that nebulous, indefinable combination of spring break, the call of the open road, a rite of passage, and a test to see if they had what it took to get there and back.

And, of course, somewhere in all that, not necessarily defined, was the hope of meeting girls.

So, there they were, driving through Iowa. Matt was reading in the back seat, Justin was reading up front, Brandon was driving.

A carload of girls passed them. The girls, Brandon reported as they pulled ahead, were looking back at them and smiling.

Unfortunately, as this was happening, Justin was popping a zit and Matt was picking his nose.


Quote of the Day:
"YOU ACT LIKE I’M NOT TRYING TO NOT BE DRAMATIC!"
--Emily, to Matt

The Ultimate Kitchen Gadget

I am not a fancy-kitchen-gadget person. I like my basics, sharp knives and a wire whisk and dippers. Now and then I get attached to a device like an egg slicer, but not often.

I roll my eyes when the Tupperware lady goes into raptures about the latest pickle strainer. My melon ballers and orange peelers hibernate in the back of the drawer.

But the other day in a kitchen store at the coast I saw the Ultimate Kitchen Gadget. It looks like a semi-stiff, semi-clear mitten—nothing impressive. But actually it is a $19.99 silicone oven mitt, capable of protecting your hands to 600 degrees, not only when pulling cookie sheets out of the oven, but, since it’s waterproof, when plunging your hands into a kettle of boiling water to retrieve an ear of corn or jar of applesauce.

Is that cool—no pun intended—or what?

I couldn’t justify buying it--after all, I do have plenty of oven mitts and tongs. But still, it was really one of the most impressive gadgets I’ve ever seen.

Quote of the Day—
"Matt hugs like he’s practiced on seed sacks."
--Emily

Amy Comes Home

A long, long time ago, I used to think that some women got far too large a percentage of their fulfilment in life out of mothering. I mean, get a life.

Early this morning I was sitting on the couch with Bible and coffee in hand when the front door opened and in glided a very tired and pale little ghostly figure, laden with suitcase and backpack. I enfolded the fragile figure in a hug and promptly bade her lie down on the couch, clicking into Smother-Mother mode before you could say boo.

Then I was off bringing a glass of water (with a straw, of course, as a good mom should), ibuprofen for her headache, two slices of toasted homemade bread with lots of real butter.

It took me by surprise, the sheer joy of having Amy home and of being able to serve her like this. She lifted her tired little head and said something wonderful like:

Quote of the Day:
"It's nice to have a mom to take care of you."
--Amy

Shopping

A couple of weeks ago I took my three girls to town and we shopped at Gateway Mall for a few hours. When we left I was tense and exhausted and headachy and wanted nothing more than to just get home. As I drove on Interstate 5 thinking about how much I hate shopping, Emily, beside me, wiggled with glee and satisfaction and said, "I just love to shop. It’s just so ENERGIZING."

Yesterday I needed to go to town again, this time to get a pattern for Amy’s graduation dress while it was on sale. Emily wanted to go along and would have been happy to leave right after she got up (about 10:30). No no, I said. First we do the cleaning, then we shop.

I enjoy second-hand shopping once in a while if I’m not in a hurry and if I don’t have tired children along and if I don’t have to rush home to make supper. The same with garage saling.

Grocery shopping at WinCo isn’t too bad but is physically exhausting, hoisting 25-lb bags of flour or cat food into the cart, onto the counter, back in the cart, and into the trunk of the car. I shop there about twice a month and usually have a brimming cart that must weigh over a hundred pounds and just when I’ve picked up the last item on the west end (ice cream) I remember that I forgot onions and have to push my cart the quarter-mile (it seems) back to the east end. At least it's good exercise.

But mall shopping completely does me in. By the time we leave I am tired of walking for miles holding all my packages, tired of the noise, tired of seeing racks of ugly clothes, tired of the prices, tired of decisions, tired of pierced young people with empty eyes, tired of the overwhelming emphasis on THINGS.

My girls look at me like I’m not quite female when I express these sentiments. Shopping is fun and cool and energizing, after all, and how can anyone think otherwise? Thankfully Paul, at least, thinks I’m a Real Woman even if I don’t like malls. (And a few weeks ago he REALLY racked up the points when he offered to go get groceries for me. Better than flowers and chocolate.)

Fifteen years ago when we lived in the far reaches of northern Ontario, we went shopping a couple times a year, and in the middle of winter I would crave a good shopping trip so bad I could hardly stand it. Maybe someday I’ll find a balance between then and now.


Quote of the Day:
"28…28? But that’s FORWARD!"
--Jenny, in a loud, offended hiss in church when Mike Gingerich said we should turn BACK to song number 28

Smucker's Believe It Or Not

I always enjoy those group games where you’re given a paper listing unusual qualities or experiences such as, "I survived a plane crash" or "I can walk down stairs on my hands" and you go around the room and ask questions until you figure out which factoid is true for which person.

Here’s my top-of-the-list Unique Fact about myself: I once had lunch with a man who about six years before had shaken hands with Osama bin Laden.

On a similar vein, I enjoy hearing about Surreal Moments, those times that may have seemed perfectly logical at the moment but looking back seem strange and upside down and almost unreal.

Such as: the time I was 8 months pregnant and toting a heavy vacuum cleaner out to the end of a long boat dock in the Canadian bush.
(Or doesn't that sound as odd as I think it does?)

Or the time Jenny and I were sitting in a very hot church service in a village in Kenya and suddenly had about 50 ants crawling all over us.

Or the time we were in the Abu Dhabi airport at 2:00 in the morning and Paul was having an animated discussion with a big Emirati in a white robe and checkered keffiyah and Emily was horribly sick from her typhoid shot and I turned around and saw her sitting BEHIND the counter and luggage scanner in one of the Official Chairs for the Official People beside an amused Official Woman in a black robe and scarf.

My Unique Facts and Surreal Moments seem to involve travel, but I’m sure people have plenty of them close to home.

So, tell me yours.

Quote of the Day:
"They’re not ninger-fails, they’re fail-ningers."
--Jenny, trying to set me straight when I told her it’s time to trim her ninger-fails. I like spoonerisms and she likes to say things RIGHT.

Shattered Prejudices

Background: Go back and read these previous posts: Chivalry and The Nature of Fear.

Amy is in New York City. She called last night.

"Mom, I had a chance to read your blog. And it was kind of funny because we got on the subway yesterday and here was this weird guy with a really baggy sweatshirt and really baggy pants....and he got up and offered his seat to Phebe and me. And then we were in the subway station and we didn't know where to go and there was this black guy with dreadlocks and he was really helpful and showed us where to go."

Quote of the Day:
It goes to show that you can't judge a book by its cover and chivalry is not dead.
--Emily

The Emptying Nest

I took a board out of the kitchen table.

Matt left this morning on a road trip to Ohio with two of his friends. Amy is off in New York City having great adventures such as walking down Broadway and talking with a Real-Live Jewish woman.

So our table was much too big and we had to stretch across the butter dish to hold hands to pray.

I used to think that when I got my children through teething and tying shoes and Bible Memory Camp and algebra and graduation then I would be DONE, finished, on to another project.

I also used to think that my mom worried way too much about me after I was gone from home. Why did it matter so much that I called her to let her know I got safely to where I was going? Why did she take such an interest in my friends, my health, my car? I mean, it was nice, but why should she trouble herself?

Now I understand. It is said that when you become a mom, you will for the rest of your life have your heart walking around outside your body. Your heart doesn’t go back in its proper place when the children grow up, because part of mine is off in NYC and another part driving through the Cascade Mountains.

And some day, when my heart is scattered in six different places across the globe, will it expand its capacity to include grandchildren in this indescribable, vulnerable combination of love and pride and fear?

If I follow in my mom’s footsteps in this as well, I’ll have plenty of love to go around. And I’ll be happiest when we stretch out the table to its full length, slap in all the boards, and have the whole family sitting around it.


Quote of the Day:
"That could be a fascinating estuarial situation."
--Byran, the nephew that got me started blogging, on the possibility of both fellow-Mennonites and ‘very un-Mennonite people’ intersecting at this blog

FYI

This blog is mentioned in the latest issue of Mennonite Weekly Review. If you want to read the article, go to www.mennoweekly.org and click on Online Perspectives: Menno Web logs emerging online. Life In The Shoe is mentioned down toward the end. (Did I really say I enjoy writing? Well, I enjoy writing blog posts, I guess. And the "absolutely astonishing" was supposed to describe the response from people in Eugene, not the support from my family.)

Chivalry, Part II

First, a joke:
An engineer is walking along and he sees a frog. The frog says, "If you kiss me, I will turn into a beautiful woman and I’ll go on a date with you."
The engineer picks up the frog, sticks it in his pocket, and walks on.
The frog hollers, "If you kiss me, I’ll turn into a beautiful woman and I’ll date you for a long time."
The engineer walks on.
The frog says, "If you kiss me, I’ll turn into a beautiful woman and I’ll marry you."
The engineer walks on.
The frog calls, "Hey, why don’t you kiss me?"
The engineer says, "I’m an engineer. I don’t have time for girls. But a talking frog? Now that’s cool."

# # # # # #

Matt is an almost-19-year-old engineering student who knows he is years away from having the time, money, and maturity to court a girl.

This, however, does not diminish his fascination with girls as a species. He enjoys getting to know girls, he says, but there aren’t that many girls in the church youth group and his pre-engineering classes are nearly all male.

I remind him that he does have three sisters and a mom, all of whom are female, very familiar with the female mind, and a great resource for learning how the species functions.

In fact, I tell him, he ought to practice-date with his sisters. Take them bowling or out to Olive Garden for a nice dinner. They could coach him on his manners and clothes and he could get some practice ordering foreign-language food and opening car doors and making conversation.

He could even take his mom out on a date!

This, I assure him, would be a gold-star item on his resume’ when the time comes that he seriously pursues a girl.

He is skeptical. His sisters, I suspect, still seem like sisters and not Real Girls. Plus, he says, he can’t afford it.

I still think it’s a good idea.

So, if there are any young, single women out there, please let me know: Would it or would it not impress you if a guy took his mom or sister on a date?

Quote of the Day:
"How does Dorcas do it? She has six children and half of them are teenagers!"
--Geneva, the cheerleader sister-in-law

Chivalry

"Chivalry is dead," said my son. "If you pull out a chair for a girl, she thinks you’re interested in her."

"Chivalry is alive and well," I countered. "Men open doors for me all the time, and I never think they’re interested in me."

In fact, I was in town not long ago and everywhere I went, from Papa Murphy’s pizza to the grocery store to Dollar Tree, men—from baggy teenagers to 70-year-olds--were literally leaping to open doors for me. Was it my dress or the look on my face? I have no idea, but I loved it.

I like men to be gentlemen and women to be ladies, real men and real women, masculine and feminine. We are not an accident of an X or Y chromosome falling into place at the right moment. We are created male or female for a specific and wonderful purpose that we all ought to embrace and celebrate.

Having said that, the background clamor begins—what about people who don’t fit the mold and gender confusion and the Harvard guy’s comments and feminism and sexism and people who have XYY chromosomes?

I don’t know.

And, another valid question: How does one define masculinity and femininity?

I don’t know that either, but I know it when I see it.

I want the men in my life to be the sort that open doors and tip hats and pull out chairs, and I want to be the sort of woman for whom men leap to do it.


Quote of the Day--
"I think we should have a new rule: Whoever makes the rules shouldn't have to follow the rules."
--Jenny, who had two days before said we need a New Family Rule like her friend Dawnisha's family, where you put the old toys or project away before you get out the new ones