Whew.

This is the painting our son reached out to touch today at the Frist Center for the Visual Arts when I grabbed and pulled back his hands just in time.

Jason and Medea by Gustave Moreau (1865)

You can most certainly see the appeal to touch by a five year old boy, can't you?


While he didn't last through the complete exhibit of The Birth of Impressionism (oh, we'll go back! Can you IMAGINE seeing Whistler's Mother in person? Or Manet's Woman With Fans?!!) we were there long enough to examine and admire and discuss an enormous painting of Sarpedon, the slain son of Zeus. So cool, says the boy. Death. Blood. Angels. Battle. Gods. Awesome. "My favorite," he says.

Becoming better at stewardship.

A goal I've been working on the last number of years with increased focus is that of stewardship; of resources, large and small.

To that end, I'm clutter busting during these snowy homebound days, and mapping out a budget plan, part of which is revisiting plans for internet, television and telephones; signing up for energy saving plans, recycling old materials (books, CDs, and so on) into cash or trade for current needs.

Unused, outgrown, or otherwise unneeded clothing and household items become someone else's blessing. Doesn't feel good, look good, or meet current requirements? Into the give away box or basket it goes. Maintenance on computers, vehicles, and other useful tools is key to expanding the life of these things, and the status of our efficiency as well. I'm working on a schedule for such things, as well as some kind of household folder or journal with all the important information and schedules. Long though I've spoken of it, and researched it, I've yet to put these things into action.

Today, we -- me, and the boy, that is -- are setting the timer and are go, go, going. Ten minutes here to gather up toys. Twenty minutes here to plunder the laundry pile and determine homes for things. Thirty minutes there to move the sofa and vacuum, rescue lost Lego pieces, push aside the chair, re-place the rug....

Sorting and ordering not only makes home and hearth much more peaceful and enjoyable -- room by room, day by day -- but also saves time, energy and allows us not to repurchase supplies (for today, that would be Valentine making materials: construction paper, glitter, glue, markers, rubber stamps, etc.) For us, this has been a real issue.

And of course, in finding duplications and unneeded items, we are able to share our relative wealth. In our circle of friends, we're struggling with financial woes, often seemingly alone -- two adults in graduate school, currently underemployed and over taxed by demands on time and ability. Yet in the grand scheme of things, we are so wealthy. In comparison to most of the world, we are outright rich, a good thing to remember when things feel too large, too out of control.

We have often taken the easiest way, instead of the more right way, even when we know better. We're working on that. Small steps. Better communication, better mapped out plans, more space for thought and work and simplicity to bear its fruit, even while one of us is a saver and collector of much, and the other is, in default position, overwhelmed and undisciplined. I'll let you guess who is who in our home.

Are you also on this journey? I'd love to hear your tips and success stories.


A neighbor shared the following sites. You may find them useful also:

myrateplan.com : The site's CellCalc and TruBill features let you
search mobile service plans available in your region and do side-by-
side comparisons of features, minute allocations and costs.

saveology.com : Enter your address into this site to get an up-to-date
list of options for phone, Internet and TV services for your home--and
to see whether bundling is the best way to go.

utilitybillbusters.com : This online trove of energy-saving advice
offers articles on everything from the right kind of insulation to how
to keep your microwave from burning money.

Four fights. In which we come out OK.

Mama vs Pasta Serving Bowl

Pasta Serving Bowl: 1, Mama: 0  -- Sadly, during dish washing with a boy and a dog in the mix in our small kitchen, the bowl slid from the dish rack on the counter and broke beyond repair. A wedding present from some of the Mister's old friends from Chicago, we'd loved this serving dish and I'd oft used it for pastas and salads and fruit on our family table, as well as toted it full of goodness to friends who'd had babies and potlucks here and there. Its last use, in fact, was to carry a lemon pea spaghetti salad to a gathering on Friday.


Mister vs Brita pitcher

Brita pitcher: 1, Mister: 0  -- This particular Brita pitcher predates the Mister's existence in my life. They don't even make this exact version anymore. So while he was most sorry that he'd bumped it from the counter, I felt sure it was in part due to its overcrowded nature (the counter) and frankly, the pitcher had served me a long long time. The cracked pitcher went the way of the recycling bin, and a gift certificate from an unknown friend (this continues to happen for us when times get tough; how grateful we are!) helped me procure a replacement right away.



Boy vs Bob Books

Boy: 4, Bob Books: 0

As the boy's hunger for the written word has grown, we've played spelling games in the car, written letters and short words on his back, played with flashcards, shared reading duties with favorite Dr. Seuss and other easy readers. His perfectionistic streak has, up to now, made diving in a less than fully exciting prospect, no matter how very much he loves books, stories, and knowledge itself. His language acquisition and verbal capacity has always been at rapid fire pace -- his first words came at six months ("NiNi" for both Mama and for breastmilk, both, as well as "monkey" at the zoo; his first sentence at nine months old, a telling demand, "Give me that!" which referred to a Pippi Longstocking doll, and went right along with his sassy full on passionate nature.) It'd been a good while since we'd used the earliest Bob Books, so last night I pulled out a small stack and handed them to the boy in the livingroom. As I finished up a grant on my laptop and the Mister watched Monday Night Football on low volume, the boy snuggled up between us and read all four books out loud, from start to finish, noting that he was working hard on new words and was feeling very proud of himself. As were we. Proud of him, that is. Today, he'll get an altogether new stack.



Boy vs Neti Pot

Boy: 0, Neti Pot 1

The cough and snuffly nose that lingers is keeping all of us awake. We're running humidifiers, serving up steamy cups of tea, blowing, blowing, blowing. But this morning I asked the boy about trying out the neti pot. I myself love it. LOVE it. He agreed to try, and was fine at first, but double clutched (as the Mister might say) then sputtered and turned and snot went flying and neti pot water poured on the floor. Yes, there were tears. And tissue. And the passionate declaration, "I hate the neti pot. Can I never ever do it again?"