Living With Barbie

She arrived with much pomp and circumstance.  Barbie, that is.

Juli learned that I saved my Barbies---that they were waiting in the attic, dying to play with her.

And somehow, I did not remember just how high-maintenance Barbie is.
The woman has too...much...stuff!

Here she is, arriving in her Jeep, with her horse trailer. 

(Please keep in mind---Kissing Barbie cannot be held accountable for the state of her hair, having been stashed away for the past 30 years.)

She's enjoyed playing her piano.  (Which really plays, btw!)

And as she often wants a convenient meal, we offer...

why yes, the Barbie McDonald's!

When Micah saw the treasure trove being unearthed, he jumped in to help unpack the box---in search of my Ken doll. 

(Unfortunately, my Shaving Ken came to an untimely end.  He was not your traditional Ken; instead of molded plastic hair, my Ken had hair made of the same spun plastic as Barbie's.  So when I waded through my collection a few years ago, he didn't make the cut.  Ken was discarded, along with the inflatable Barbie furniture.)

We had the bright idea to email Aunt Paula and ask permission to borrow her Ken doll.  After all, Grandma has boxes of Aunt Paula's toys in her basement.  Surely Ken would be there...

Unfortunately, none of Aunt Paula's Barbies were in this box.  (We believe they may be residing in Ohio.)  But now, instead of one pink Corvette...

and one Barbie horse...

I could go on, but you get the point.

My house has been overrun with Barbie.

Many people have strong opinions about Barbie, from the size of her waist to her position as a role model for young girls.  (Which is somewhat valid---but not the topic for today.)  I loved playing with my Barbies for many, many years.  And so I am willing to wrestle with my grownup feelings about Barbie...from what she stands for to the questionable material from which she is made. 

From an environmental standpoint, I'm really trying to think through this whole Barbie saga.  You have the sheer amount of plastic already existing in my Barbie collection from the 80s.  Do I really want to discard all that into the landfill?  Then you have the whole, "What's she made of?"  The plastic in her head and her bendable legs is a form of PVC made soft with plasticizers, such as pthalates.

My mother has been known to tease me, "See, you just shouldn't think about it.  Don't worry about what's in it."

But as a mom and as a person who reads current research, I know that the plastic toys we buy our children contain chemicals that can affect their health.

And so I think about Barbie.
And I struggle.
And I get mad and teary about being caught up in this position. 
About having to choose between a great toy and the questionable safety of this world of plastic we have built for ourselves.

I get angry at the truth in my mom's statement.
It is easier not to know.

For now, Barbie will visit.

I comfort myself with the thought that winter's grip will be soon be a thing of the past. 
It will be time for children to have adventures.  The warm wind will entice them outdoors.  Branches, rocks, and a discarded cotton sheet will become their fort.
 
And I will come back to wrestle with plastic another day.
Sadly, it's not going anywhere.

***

And because I don't want to end on a pessimistic note---
Healthy Child, Healthy World and The Environmental Working Group are great, reputable places to learn more about keeping our families safe.
Another step along our journey.
xxoo

Adventure

Micah just came in to ask if he had time before dinner for an adventure. 
(I should clarify.  This means a hike with Dad.)
I told him yes. 
After all, it's sunny (if not warm)---and we should all try to make room in life for adventure, right?

Here's what the trio brought back from last week's adventure:

A few skulls and bones, among assorted pieces of crockery.

I wonder what they'll bring back tonight?

Paying It Forward

What used to be thought of as doing the right thing or being generous now has a name.  We call it "paying it forward", after the movie based on Catherine Ryan Hyde's novel by the same name.  (And while I cried a river of tears at the ending, I hope you have read the book or seen the movie.  Just because it's that good.)



I've had people pay it forward for me twice in the past week. 
One was a complete stranger.
One is a friend from my season with MOPS.

At Aldi's last week, a woman leaving the store saw me about to put my quarter in to get a cart.
   
(If you've never been to Aldi's, they chain the carts together outside the store.  You "rent" a cart by inserting a quarter, you receive a quarter back when you bring the cart back.  And in my opinion, it works well.  There aren't carts littering the parking lot, they aren't ever wet from sitting in the rain, and they don't have to pay someone to retrieve them.)

Instead of getting her own quarter back, she insisted I take her cart.

Last night on Facebook, my friend T. posted that she was giving away her son's twin size racecar bed.  Two of Micah's friends have these, and he thinks they are really cool. 



They also retail for $349 at Walmart, so there was no chance that Micah would ever have his own.  Until T. decided to give hers away.

Not sell.
Give.

So, the quarter vs. $349.00. 
Does the size of the gift matter?

According to Trevor (the main character in the movie), "It doesn't even have to be a big thing.  It might just seem like a big thing.  Depending on who you do it for."

So yeah, the other day at Aldi's, I actually already had my quarter out.  It seemed like a small kindness for that lady to save me a quarter.  Don't get me wrong---I appreciated that kindness.  But because I had my quarter, it wasn't earth-shattering. 

Travel back in time seven years, the only other time I've ever tried to shop at Aldi's.  I was a tired-out mom with a cranky 9-month-old in a horrendously heavy baby carrier.  No idea I needed a quarter to use a cart.  Because I didn't have a quarter that day, I left and went back home in tears.  Juli was too heavy to carry through the store.  And if I didn't have a cart, I could only carry one or two items while juggling the heavy baby and my purse.
Now on that day, a quarter would have been worth its weight in gold to me.
It depends on who you do it for.

And here's the trick---when we pay it forward, we don't always know who we're doing it for.

So without knowing how our act will be received, without knowing the person for whom we pay it forward, we do it anyway.

Paying it forward doesn't always mean money.
It means time, kindness, and generosity of spirit.
It requires us to look beyond ourselves.

In a few years, Micah will outgrow his racecar bed. 
And yes, if I sold it on Craigslist, I could probably make $100.00.
But in the spirit of my friend T., I'll be getting on Facebook or Freecycle, giving it away.

How can you pay it forward for someone today?  How about tomorrow?

*If you've never heard the story that inspired Catherine Ryan Hyde's book, you may want to visit here to read it.

Seasons and Shift

The maple season has a definite end.

Controlled purely by the weather, after a string of warm days and nights the sap will cease to flow.  Sugarmakers will pull their buckets and taps and begin the process of cleaning up.

Tying up loose ends, making repairs.
Cleaning up sticky messes.
Bottling the syrup for the months ahead.

It's the end to that muddy "middle" time that defines the sugaring season---the days that fall between true winter and the beginning of spring.  It's clearly time to move forward.  Sure, you could leave the taps in the trees, but where would that get you?  Nowhere.  The maples instinctively know when to be done.
 
They're ready to bloom---to move on to the next season in their life.



(Source:  http://214bio.com/BOOK/ch_1_plants.htm)

The trees move so easily from one season to another.

What about the seasons of our lives---how we define ourselves at any given moment? 
We get so used to being the child, the teacher, the caregiver, the parent---and sometimes we forget that we're not meant to stay in one season forever.

While I will always be a teacher, I would lose out on grownup relationships with former students if I still treated them like fifth graders.  I will always be Juli and Micah's mom, but heaven help us all if I lose sight of their need to grow and change.

One of my very favorite songs ever is Landslide by Stevie Nicks.  In particular, I love the lines, "Can I sail through the changing ocean tides? Can I handle the seasons of my life?"
(I'll also admit that I love the fact that her singing range and mine are very similar, so I can sing the entire song with her.) 



I've come to realize that it is a true blessing to have friends of all ages, in many different seasons of life---largely because I can learn from their experiences.  By observing those that God has placed in my circle, I've learned how to love and respect my husband...to struggle with the idea of  being called...to love and discipline children...to set boundaries...to respect a grown child's independence...to work for a better marriage...to walk to the edge of death---and move beyond.
 
So many seasons.  A challenge to know how to handle them, to walk among them with grace.
 
In order to explore the fullness of life waiting for us, we need to be willing to shift our focus to what lies over the horizon---to celebrate what has been and embrace what will be.

And here's the other piece---something I've struggled with in the past and I'm only now starting to appreciate---we don't have to know what lies ahead to be willing to be led in a new direction. 

Anticipation

On Friday my mom and I left for my cousin's baby shower. 

We had a great drive, until we got a flat tire around Buffalo during rush hour.

Thanks to cell phones, AAA, and a super tire-changing-guy, we were back on the road in no time.

The rest of the weekend was filled with cute little candy favors...

cuddly stuffed animals...

flowers for the mom-to-be...

rubber ducky punch...

piles of pink-and-blue packages...

...yummy desserts.

My point-and-shoot camera did well with those inanimate objects.

What it didn't capture so well was the life in motion around us.

Laughter over an uncle teaching his niece the perfect way to layer a lasagna.

Hugs from girls who haven't seen each other in a long time.

Moms, aunts, and cousins---excited over the possibility in this new life to come. 

Whispers of encouragement.

Hopes and prayers for the future.

Gluten Free Doughnuts (or, A Bite of Heaven!)

Yes, you read that right.
Gluten free cake doughnuts.
My mind is still reeling from how good they are.  No joke.

These old-fashioned, cakelike doughnuts are brought to you courtesy of The Baking Beauties.  My friend Priscilla has very kindly been searching for yummy, gluten free recipes for me.  From recipes posted on The Baking Beauties, she has created chocolate sandwich cookies reminiscent of Oreos, lemon poppyseed cake, and---heaven!---doughnuts.

As I may have mentioned before, gluten free baking can be a bit tricky.  And most often, you need to acknowledge that whatever recipe you are trying to recreate most likely will not taste exactly like the gluten-filled original. 

Not so with this one!

Yesterday being Shrove Tuesday, we decided that there could be no more perfect day to try and make doughnuts.  (In Catholic, Lutheran, Episcopal and Methodist circles, Shrove Tuesday is the the day preceeding Ash Wednesday.  As far back as 1000 AD, it has been a day to serve foods high in sugar, fat and eggs, as a prelude to the fasting nature of the season of Lent.)

(Micah, with our friends Matthew and Priscilla.  Micah took this picture.  He's recently learned to set the timer on his camera---my old Nikon point-and-shoot---and he's enjoying getting people to pose with him.)

Micah (also known as The Boy Who Loves to Cook) helped Matt create the gluten-free flour mix for the recipe.

He helped us pour all the ingredients in the bowl.

(Not sure what he's thinking here!)

As you can see, this recipe made quite a few doughnuts.  (Keep in mind, these are fried in oil.  Absolutely delicious, and a great treat for a special occasion.)  Some were dipped in cinnamon-and-sugar.  The rest, Micah decided, really needed frosting and sprinkles! 

Quite the delicious feast!

Moving on to Ash Wednesday, the beginning of our Lenten journey.

We are but dust, and to dust we will return...

On Abundance

By its very nature, the maple season is characterized by abundance.

Hovering on the edge of winter, the trees are slow to wake from sleep.
Taps are placed, buckets hung, in anticipation of what is to come.

And when the timing is just perfect, the sun shines and temperatures creep and fall. 
Though the dates for maple season can vary by weeks each year, the trees instinctively know what to do,
They respond to God's annual invitation and the sap flows abundantly.
No shyness---no fear.
No excuses or busyness.
They do what they're called to do.

And because it's maple season, we know what to do with abundance.
Though we don't know exactly when the heavy runs will come, we adjust easily and quickly when they do.
We check the trees more often and collect more than once a day.
We do crazy things like take sap to the sugarhouse in the dark.

 We press our children into service.

How much abundance did we have today?

123 gallons.

We collected and carried for a good part of our day, storing sap to boil this coming week.

We met the abundance of the trees.

And it begs the question, do we do the same with the abundance in our daily lives?

My theory is, we don't always know what to do with abundance.

Disappointments...fears...uncertainties---these, we've learned how to handle.

Abundance?

Filled to overflowing?

Not so much.

So we shy away.  God shows up with jars of goodness filled to overflowing, and our first response is, "This can't possibly be for me."

The goodness is too much, and we are uncertain.

Besides, we think, if God truly knew us, He wouldn't bring the abundance to us.

We haven't done enough and don't deserve such a gift.

And there---precisely there---lies the irony of God's abundance.

We certainly don't deserve any of the gifts He brings, yet He surprises us anyway.

In spite of our shortcomings, our weaknesses, and our lack of faith.

In spite of us.

Like maple season, the abundant times in our lives don't have precise starting or ending dates. 

God brings abundance in many forms, at times when we expect it least.

The question is, are we ready to respond to the invitation when it comes?

Are we prepared to set aside our fears, busyness, and excuses?

What invitation has God placed before you?

Come on, it's time to go collect sap in the dark. 

Sweet!

Love this picture! 
I don't usually post photos of students from the school, but today is different.
  This photo appeared in the Valley News Dispatch along with this article about our little maple project.



5 gallons yesterday, 16 today.  We're almost up to half a gallon of syrup!

Middle School Maple

Have I ever mentioned that I'm afraid of middle schoolers?

Okay, maybe that's stretching it.  I'm not exactly afraid of them, especially one-on-one.  But give me a subbing assignment with kids I don't know and a lesson with which I'm unfamiliar, and my pulse will start to race.  Fifth grade is my favorite to teach.  Sixth is a little more dicey.  Seventh and eighth leave me feeling like a stranger in a strange land. 

It's just not my comfort zone.

Jump to today:  we're in the middle of our maple sugaring project with the classes at Juli's school.  What started out as a casual conversation with our favorite second-grade teacher blossomed into a learning project that has encompassed every grade (K-8) and touches on several disciplines---math and biology being the two most important.

Knowing that we were going to involve the middle-school grades, I've had subterranean wonderings all week. 

Would they find it interesting? 

Even if they found it interesting, would they say anything? 

Would the oldest kids resent being used as pack mules this week, toting the sap from each tree to the collection containers?

Well, today was it.  Tapping with grades six, seven, and eight.

We had a blast!

It was everything we could have hoped for, with perfect weather to boot. 

We met with each grade before going outside. Todd reviewed photosynthesis, why there's sugar in the sap to begin with, and how the pressure of the carbon dioxide pushes the sap up towards the buds.

Then the outside fun began. 

From getting in their groups and picking their trees...drilling holes to tapping in spiles...these middle-schoolers let their best sides shine through. 

You could almost see their brains stretching to remember the byproducts of photosynthesis. 

They were polite, and they were interested.

It really got me thinking about the gifts that God has given middle-schoolers.

They have the ability to comprehend higher-level math and science concepts, yet they still have the playfulness of their younger schoolmates.

Honestly, if you had told me this morning that I would have sixth and seventh-grade boys holding their tongues out to taste maple sap, I'm not sure I would have believed you.

Thanks to my friend Karen, we have proof.