parenting 101

Yesterday, Mark and I planted tomatoes.

After reading up on what to do, we marked out a nice, sunny spot on the lawn where we wanted the bed to go. Then, we cut away the sod and removed it, one six-inch piece at a time. Next, we turned over the soil, digging out rocks and breaking up clumps , until it was light and fluffy. Then, we added in manure and peat moss and mixed it all up until the soil was a deep, rich brown throughout.

After that, we dug a hole for each plant--slightly larger and deeper than the pot--and removed the suckers growing at the bottom of each stem. Next, we laid black landscaping fabric over the entire bed and cut slits in it over each of the holes we had already prepared. When that was done, we lowered the plants through the plastic and into the holes and packed the loose soil firmly around them. Finally, we slid wire cages around each of the plants to support them as they grow and watered it all in, filling in any gaps or air pockets around the roots so that they might grow deep into the soil.

And that's just the beginning.

In the months to come there will be weeds to contend with as well as other critters and pests. Blight, too, is a real possibility as are a number of things beyond our ability to control. But, Mark and I will deal with it all in the hope of one day harvesting the ripe, sweet fruit.

As I waited for Amelia to come home last night (well past her curfew) I thought how like gardening parenting is.

After reading up on what to expect, we painstakingly prepare the soil: the right schools, the right friends, the right influences, art, books, sports. Then, we make every effort to protect our children from things that might harm them--pedophiles, drugs, alcohol, risky behavior--and try to provide them with a support system--family, friends, community--that will enable our kids to thrive and grow strong. And we water it all in with discipline and firm boundaries so that there are no gaps in their learning, no questions about right and wrong, so that they may be firmly planted wherever they land.

But, in the end, there will be nights like these--and more of them, I suspect, as our children grow--when all Mark and I can do is rub our hands over the things we cannot control and hope, and pray, that one day we will reap a harvest of ripe, sweet fruit.

Memorial Day!

Here's what was in my shopping cart today:

Bathing suits
beach towels
sunscreen
tomato plants
basil plants
verbena
iced tea jug

It must be Memorial Day!

love-40

On days like these, I feel as though I am on a tennis court with balls being lobbed at me left and right: prom, birthdays, sports, spring concerts, summer plans--and I have only a few seconds to react. Sometimes, I hit the ball with the sweet-spot on my racquet and send it soaring over the net to the astonishment of all around, including myself. Other times, it bounces off the rim of my racquet and either falls short of the net or veers off wildly onto someone else's court. Still other times I miss the ball entirely and it comes down with a mind-numbing thump right on the top of my head.

a no-good (very bad) day

Have you ever had one of those days when the only thing you had to look forward to was getting back into bed? I did. It all started when I over-conditioned my hair. No good can come of a day when your hair is flat and greasy, I tell you, and nothing did.

My shoes didn't match my belt, my shirt was stained and I couldn't find my favorite earrings. And let's just say in my low-slung pants my underwear was no secret.

I was late for lunch with Mark and missed the first three innings of Daisy's softball game. I changed the appointment for Amelia's dress fitting three times and still couldn't make it.

The spareribs were tough and there was no vegetable with dinner, just cornbread.

I yelled at Lilly, I yelled at Mark, I yelled at Amelia and Mabel. Daisy was the only one I didn't yell at but then I didn't see her all day either.

Climbing into bed I thought, "one day I will look back on this day and laugh." But not for a long time, I tell you; not for a very long time.

a job!

I got a job. It is not the job I had hoped for, nor is it the job I spent years (and years) studying in school for. And it is not the job I imagined myself doing at this stage in my life. But, it is a job. And, as they say in these tough economic times, that's something.

holy ground

It struck me this morning, as I gazed down at my feet, that the ground beneath them—the stretch of real estate that runs past my kitchen sink, from the refrigerator to the stove--is holy ground. I don’t often think of it that way. Usually, when I am there, holiness is the farthest thing from my mind. But it is sacred nonetheless.

For this ground is the first place I go to in the morning, and the place where I wind up when I can’t sleep at night.

It is where I prepare my family’s meals, sometimes lovingly but more often than not with a lot of sighing and grumbling.

It is the place where my husband kisses me good-bye in the morning and hello in the evening.

It is the spot where countless arguments have begun and where many have ended.

It is where I stand to watch the birds flock carelessly around the bird feeder, and where I stare out the window, fretting about the future.

When I read the day’s mail, I lean with my back against the counter there, ready for whatever might come my way.

When I am on the phone, whether it is with a friend in need or I am simply on hold, I pace back and forth along that stretch of floor wondering how many feet have trod that same path.

And, when my children don’t know where to find me, it is the first place they look (of course it is the only place they look before they start yelling).

In this place, I have received good news as well as bad; found reasons for celebration as well as for remorse.

In this place, I have shed many tears and laughed so hard I couldn’t breathe.

In this place, I have gotten a lot of great ideas, and lost my train of thought more times than I care to remember.

I have poured out countless doses of medicine on the counter there and cleaned what seems like hundreds of scraped elbows and knees under the faucet.

I have watched generations grow older here--my parents, my siblings, my children—and I have set down and torn up roots only to set them down again.

Perhaps what makes this ground holy is not what I do here but what God does. For this is the place where I least expect to find Him and the place where I most often do.

steak tonight!

Tonight we're having steak.  Here's the reason why:

On Tuesday, my local grocery store was having a sale on meat:  five packages for $19.99.  Being the bargain shopper that I am, I dug through the bin until I found the biggest package of meat I could find:  a nice, thick, juicy, london broil steak, valued at $8.43.  Since it was getting late, however, I also bought a package of hamburger which I used to throw together a quick pot of spaghetti for dinner.

On Wednesday, one of my kids had soccer practice which meant I would be in the car at the moment the steak would have to go on the grill.  So, at 3:30, I pan-seared the chicken thighs I got on sale and then smothered them in a lemon-garlic-basil sauce (the basil was my idea) and baked them in the oven for forty-five minutes  As it turned out, soccer practice was cancelled but the chicken was so yummy I didn't really mind.

Thursday morning, I suggested to Mark that he marinate the steak so we could grill it for dinner.  But, by the time dinner rolled around, we encountered two unexpected snafus:  hornets in the grill and extra kids in the yard.  Since neither seemed as though they were going to leave anytime soon, we did what any red-blooded American family would do:  we ordered Chinese food.

Last night, it was more soccer practice and more driving.  By the time I got home, it was too late to begin baking the potatoes I bought to go with the steak so I heated up the leftover Chinese food and spaghetti and set it out on the counter.  Then, after dinner, under cover of darkness, Mark sprayed the grill with hornet spray and got rid of the nest.

Which brings us, at last, to tonight.  The steak is marinated, the potatoes are washed and ready to go, and the hornets are gone.  There will be no guests for dinner tonight, I have informed my kids, and no unexpected change in plans.  Because we are going to eat that steak--and enjoy it--if it's the last thing we do!