Someone hung a Tamagotchi on my key hook. Am now locked out of house awaiting rescue by exasperated husband.
bearing blog
bear – ing n 1 the manner in which one comports oneself; 2 the act, power, or time of bringing forth offspring or fruit; 3 a machine part in which another part turns [a journal ~]; 4 pl comprehension of one’s position, environment, or situation; 5 the act of moving while supporting the weight of something [the ~ of the cross].
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The evolution of my nursing clothes.
When I first was pregnant with my first child, I bought a bunch of nursing tops from Motherwear and One Hot Mama. Only a few of them survived; the rest went to the thrift store, or to friends who liked them better than I did, as soon as I had a chance to try breastfeeding in them.
The first style of nursing tops that I decided I liked was called the "Super Secret" nursing top, and was sold at One Hot Mama. They still have some tops that bear that name, but the ones I used back then were different: they looked a lot like twin-sets, except that the "cardigan" was attached to the "tank," and the openings were sort of under the arms, hidden by the cardigan part. I thought it was a pretty ingenious design, because the opening wasn't obvious. I liked that, since I was going to school at the time, and didn't always have the baby with me to carry in front of me and hide the nursing openings (the way the annoying models do in the catalogs of nursing tops — hello, WE WANT TO SEE WHAT THE SHIRT LOOKS LIKE.)
I also liked the "all-around crop top" style of tee shirts and turtlenecks, where the whole shirt had two layers and the top layer lifted up all around to allow access to the layer underneath with the openings. Mostly because I could tuck the bottom layer into your waistband, and thereby keep from exposing your belly flesh to Minnesota winter winds. One of those crop top tees, a black one with the One Hot Mama label, I used for eight years straight and didn't get rid of until I lost a lot of weight and it didn't fit anymore. It was one of my favorite shirts.
But the lots-of-nursing-tops phase didn't last long past my second baby, after I was done with school. I figured out that it was easier and cheaper, most of the time, just to wear any old knit top. As long as it was loose and long enough, I could just lift up the shirt for the baby and still nurse discreetly enough by tucking the extra folds of the material around his face. I was heavier then, and I wore a lot of loose-ish, long-ish tops. I still used nursing tops and nursing dresses just for Sundays and nice restaurants, when I didn't want to look too sloppy. Since they were my "nicer" clothes, and I had fewer of them, I was willing to spend a little more. For those dressy clothes, I love the Japanese Weekend label (hint: as soon as you get pregnant, check their out-of-season sale, which will be in season by the time you are big), and hands-down my favorite design for nursing openings is made by Boob Nursingwear. It's especially good for a dress.
This time around, though, I've settled on an entirely different strategy. Probably because, being a lot slimmer, I'm not wearing so much loose flappy stuff on top, and I find that in the trimmer and more fitted stuff I'm finally able to wear, I can't really nurse discreetly just by lifting up. I'm also kind of loath to invest in a whole new wardrobe of nursing tops, which aren't cheap anyway, after having had The Year Of Three Wardrobes last year (an entire, if abbreviated, wardrobe in size 6 or so; an entire, if abbreviated, wardrobe in size 2 or so; and a maternity wardrobe). I am willing to wear a stretchy-necked or button-front dress and go down through the neck if I am at home or among friends, but not out in public.
So I've taken to wearing an inexpensive cotton v-neck camisole, slightly too small. The kind they sell at Old Navy or Gap Body go on sale for five to eight dollars. I adjust the spaghetti straps so they are a little too long, and tuck the camisole into my waistband. Then I wear whatever ordinary top I want to wear over that. When it's time to nurse the baby, I lift up the top and pull the camisole down out of the way, and open the nursing bra. I find that the combination of (say) a trim tee or knit top that covers my shoulders and chest, and a camisole that covers my belly, plus the added coverage of a sling, is really effective at minimizing exposure. Except, of course, for the few seconds it takes to get the baby latched on, but I don't really care about that; it's over quickly.
I think a large part of the reason I'm so much happier with the camisole strategy is that it thoroughly hides my squashy mommy tummy, which has gotten even squashier after the weight loss. Further evidence for my theory that different body types require different strategies of nursing clothing.
I still want a good nursing dress in my current size, but I despair of finding one I like without being able to try it on.
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Renouncing everything.
We all know the part of today's Gospel (from Luke 14) where Jesus says you have to hate your father and mother, wife and children,etc., if you want to be his disciple. We all also know that this is supposed to mean, not so much that you hate them, that you have to be willing to give all those things up. It's kind of tricky to see how the one is supposed to mean the other.
But have you ever noticed that this bit about having to hate your family is embedded in an analogy to two other situations, sort of like mini-parables, and that Jesus sums it all up by saying, "In the same way," — I presume, in the same way as in the two examples — "In the same way, every one of you who does not renounce all his possessions cannot be my disciple."
So… to the examples. The examples, paraphrased, take this form:
A person (A)
without (B)
cannot (C).
So what (A) does not figure out ahead of time
whether he has (B)?
If he finds he does not have (B),
he won't even begin to (C).
In the first example:
- A = a person who wishes to construct a tower
- B = sufficient money
- C = complete the construction
In the second:
- A = a king marching into battle
- B = a sufficiently strong army
- C = oppose another king with a larger army
And in Christ's main point:
- A = anyone who comes to Me
- B = ("hate" for mother and father, wife and children, sisters and brothers) AND (carrying his own cross and following Me)
- C = be My disciple
"In the same way, everyone of you who does not renounce all his possessions cannot be my disciple."
How is it "in the same way?" First of all, it's not a matter of an arbitrary prerequisite; it's a simple statement of fact. There's nothing fair or unfair about this declaration; it is part of what it means to be a disciple of Jesus. If you don't have enough money, you can't finish the tower. If your army isn't strong enough, you can't oppose the enemy king. Christ isn't saying "you aren't allowed to be my disciple" if you don't renounce all your possessions, your family, and your life; He is saying there's no way to get around it. He is not a meanie; He is a realist.
What else makes it "in the same way?" Apparently, part of this renunciation is a clear understanding of the cost. Both the would-be builder and the would-be victor have to count the cost and figure out whether their own resources are enough, not just to start, but to carry the work through to completion. So does the would-be disciple. Here Christ counts it for us. Discipleship will require everything we have: everyone we love, everything we own, our very life.
But wait, you say, we might not actually have to give those things up for Christ. Some people are asked to choose between their families and Christ, between their possessions and Christ, between their lives and Christ. Not everyone. We just have to be ready to do it. That must be what He means when he says we have to renounce them all.
But: no.
Each of these things — the construction project, the army campaign, discipleship — is a long process, with costs that are spent all along, that nevertheless has its beginning in the decision of a moment. The builder, if he chooses to build, will spend the money penny by penny as the tower is built. The king, if he chooses to go into battle, will lose his troops man by man over the course of the offensive. And the disciple, if he chooses to follow Christ, will — he WILL — lose his family, lose his possessions, and lose his life in the end. You can't take it with you, right? Eventually, there will come a point when none of these remain and there is only the disciple and his cross.
The decision of the moment — whether to start construction, whether to march into battle — comes after counting the cost and understanding if he has enough to finish the job.
It is worth noting that the would-be disciple doesn't get to keep his family, life, and possessions even if he chooses not to follow Christ. They will be given up… just not for Him.
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Yesterday’s U.S. history lesson: World War I, movie version.
I had my own boys watch "Sergeant York" yesterday as part of our World War I unit. Even though I'm co-schooling U. S. history with Hannah's kids, we do some extras separately — there just isn't time for us to have the kids watch movies together. I need that time for instruction.
I really only had one week to cover WWI from an American-history point of view — we will also get it in world history this year, and we'll go more into the causes and such when we cover it there.
I had never seen "Sergeant York" before. It was released in 1941, so obviously we've got a patriotic, sign-up-to-fight kind of tone. Good movie, though. The climax of the movie (Tennessee corporal nearly-single-handedly kills 20 Germans and captures 132 prisoners, significantly aiding the Allies near the very end of the war) would be rather unbelievably unrealistic except that it really happened. My 10-year-old and almost-seven-year-old were both very excited by the basic training and war scenes and wanted to see them again and again, and they didn't much mind the other stuff (maybe 2/3 of the movie) that sets up the characters, explains Alvin York's conversion from hellraiser to church-goin' man, considers religious objections to fighting, and in the end gets him home from the ticker tape parades to his Tennessee hills.
I really need to use more classic old cinema as kid-movies. We have a nice collection of Marx Brothers DVDs which our children really enjoy, but I haven't gotten much into the war-movie genre. It's very appealing to my little boys at least, even in black-and-white — and it's gotta be better than Pokémon movies.
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Slight change, big improvement.
One of our most common vegetable side dishes around here is sauteed greens with onions.
I do occasionally use fresh collards, kale, mustard, or turnip greens for this dish, but most of the time I use frozen greens. It's quick, easy, very nutritious, and the children (while not crazy about it) can usually be coaxed to eat a bite or two. Fresh is a little better-textured, but not by a whole lot.
Normally I saute onions in plenty of olive oil with salt and pepper until they are soft and maybe starting to brown a bit; sometimes add garlic; and then dump the frozen greens into the pan. Stir from time to time, and when it's all hot, add more salt and pepper, plus a bit of lemon juice or vinegar, and call it good. It takes a total of 15 minutes, and of course you can let it go for longer, or if you want the greens to be really mushy you can add some liquid and cover the pan to steam them. I like them still chewy.
Couple of days ago I had some extra celery, so I coarsely chopped three stalks of celery along with my two medium onions for the collard greens. Did everything the same, only with the celery.
I couldn't believe how much better it was! The bitterness of the greens was tempered a bit, and the celery added a nice crunch. I almost always have celery in the fridge — and this sort of thing is still good even when the celery has started to go a little flaccid — so I think I'm doing the collards this way from now on.
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Exceptional patriotism.
Patriotism and nationalism are things that come up a lot when you teach history, whether to young kids or to adults, and they're always a little difficult to navigate in a neutral way. I thought these few sentences on patriotism, buried in a piece about textbook debates and the Texas State Board of Education, were concise and in my view accurate.
I redacted references to "conservatives" and "leftists" as distracting and unnecessary ad hominem stuff.
…American patriotism, far from being nothing more than the reactionary buzzword of small-minded bigots … is based on a deep awareness that the United States of America is the first (and to date only) nation based on an idea, rather than on geography or ethnicity. And not just any idea, but the highest ideals which the human mind can formulate: freedom, responsibility, self-reliance, equality of opportunity, individualism. And that to be patriotic in America is a shorthand way to declare one’s allegiance to these philosophical ideals.
The idea is that what we call "patriotism" in the U. S. is — or at least can be — fundamentally different from the sentiments that go by the name "patriotism" in most other places, so it doesn't deserve the scorn that it does other places. U. S. patriotism is not, as the author puts it,
brute nationalism, in particular the ethnic and chauvinistic nationalism of Europe which has led to totalitarianism and countless wars.
Those who don't understand the distinction might
condemn American patriotism as equally fascistic, unaware that by doing so they are rejecting not just the ideals on which America is based but the very notion of a nation based on ideals.
A dose of American exceptionalism is necessary to believe this, obviously. But even though I'm not always comfortable with many expressions of patriotism, I am comfortable with a belief that the U. S. is fundamentally different from other countries, and in a good way.
Two words: First Amendment. Let's just say I'm a fan.
U. S. patriotism is properly tempered with two other principles that come from something higher than nations.
– First, the deep realization (for all but a few of us) that to be a citizen of the U. S. is largely a matter of the luck of our birth. We don't get to claim any credit for the philosophies we are (it is to be hoped) happy to live under, so there's not much point in being "proud" of them. However, we can still make them our own by supporting them or at least not undermining them.
— Second, we ought to desire similar freedom for everyone who wants it. Such a desire might take different practical forms — does this mean we use military might to support nascent democracies? that we accept lots and lots of immigrants? that we engage in an international campaign to promote our worldviews? Could be any of that, some positions coming from the far left, others from the far right; but both ends could be represented by an authentic and generous American patriotism.
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Today’s history selections.
Week one of literature-based 20th-century U. S. history:
- I passed five blank cards out to each child and asked them to write the following dates on the cards: 1492, 1776, 1860, 1865, 1900. We discussed each of these dates and why I want them to remember them. (1900 is just a big round number, useful for that reason. Last year, I made them memorize that McKinley was president in 1900.)
- I passed out another card and had them write "1918" on it.
- First we read about World War One. We used Joy Hakim, History of US, volume 9, Preface, which explains the start of WWI and the Americans' entry into it. Then I read selections from three library books — almost any random WWI books will do — to talk about trench warfare, submarines, and poison gas weapons.
- Then we discussed the "Spanish influenza" epidemic. I read the short children's novel Hero Over Here by K. V. Kudlinski, which is the story of a boy who has to take care of his flu-stricken family and friends when the epidemic hits his town. It's about 55 pages.
- Then I had them repeat the two things I want them to remember about 1918: the end of WWI, and the flu epidemic.
It went by pretty quickly. Next week: WWII. Part of it, anyway.
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Back to school.
Light blogging today and probably over the next couple of days.
I hope to have a post up on the next couple of chapters out of St. Francis de Sales soon.
Yesterday I took the baby with me to the Mall of America — on one of the last Sundays before school starts back — and it was alarmingly uncrowded. A few years ago I made the mistake of trying to go shopping (for myself) on back-to-school-sale weekend, and I had to stand in dressing-room lines everywhere. Not so this year. Retail must be really suffering. The department stores were nearly empty. Granted, I only covered the quadrant between Macy's and Nordstrom's, plus a little bit on either end; maybe if I'd wandered over by Old Navy or something I'd have seen a lot more people.
The only place I saw that was crowded was Nordstrom Rack (that's where Nordstrom puts their heavily discounted designer stuff).
Found one pair of jeans for myself. One of these days I might have to do a post on the oddities of shopping after dropping 7 pants sizes.
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Screening technique.
Christy P has a blog post up telling a story about her kids in which my husband Mark and I play a minor role.
Several years ago, before I had any kids, we had a visit from friend and commenter bearing and her husband who already had kids. The visiting dad [Mark] noticed the giant grated air intake vent in our living room and said "You should screen this because kids are going to throw stuff down there."
We didn't do it. Our first child was a girl, and she never put anything down there….
Read the rest.
We often think that our parenting styles influence our children's personalities and behavior, but I think it's the other way around most of the time.
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The thing is, I don’t LIKE white cake.
Think of this as a creative writing assignment.
Somebody come up with a defensible theological reason why a chocolate-almond butter cake, or possibly a flourless chocolate torte, is an appropriate symbolic choice to make to celebrate the Nativity of Mary next month.
I am open to using white frosting, but not really.
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Weaning.
My four-year-old is on the verge of weaning. Maybe she already has. I'm not sure. She nursed yesterday. The time before that was four or five days ago.
A couple of days ago I suddenly realized that, sooner or later, I will breastfeed her for the very last time.
And I'm not going to know it when it happens.
Experience tells me it will be soon.
She is, of course, old enough to remember all this.
I resolved right then and there that for the rest of the nursing times we have, I won't wave her away, or grimace and say "Quit poking me," or try to read, or talk on the phone.
I'll say yes, I'll smile, I'll cuddle her close, I'll look her in the eyes, and I'll stroke her hair.
May she carry only memories of love and closeness with her into Big Girlhood.
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Perfectionist.
Marybeth has some thoughts about perfectionism.
I was talking with a friend yesterday about how when a moving company moves you, they send 2 or 3 guys and they pack up everything you own in a day… ONE DAY!….. That's because they see it, they grab it, they pack it…. There is no sense of "I have 16 books from this 18 book set. I should go look for the other 2 books so they can all be packed together."
I think that I have done the same thing with eating…. There have been times that I get so focused on what would be the perfect thing to eat, that I might nibble enough calories to qualify as a meal while I am searching for/preparing that 'perfect' thing…. All of a sudden, that doesn't seem so perfect, does it? I am fortunate enough to say that I have not done that in some time, but that was a big thing with me….Exercise has been like that for me, too. I waited the longest time to do ANYTHING because the time wasn't perfect and the routine is most definitely not perfect – I mean really – 10 minutes is hardly what I consider a great workout….. Maybe it's 'Just Right' for my current physical condition, but it certainly does not FEEL perfect…..So, I think I have rambled enough here, but the main thing I want to say is do NOT be a perfectionist…. If you wait for perfection, you'll NEVER get it/do it/have it….. You can certainly work towards perfection, but as we are all inherently flawed and imperfect, waiting for yourself to be perfect is setting yourself up for a failure….Today I wanted to get the kids to a birthday party, twenty minutes away, at 1 pm. I also wanted to swim, to pick up new books at the library, and to feed everyone lunch at home.I keep forgetting to allow that extra 15 minutes in my schedule for the baby to nurse one last time. So when I pulled out of my garage it was 11:06.I told myself: I will swim for exactly 30 minutes, not the 47 minutes it takes me to swim 1600 yards. That worked okay. I think I managed — let's see — 1050 yards.I told myself: I will take a really fast shower and not waste any time in the locker room. That didn't work exactly, because I saw a bemused-looking older lady in the locker room, asked if she needed help finding anything, and wound up having a nice conversation about starting up an exercise program. I'm glad I did. I learned that her name was Rose, that she was 60 pounds into a hoped-for 100-pound weight loss, and that she recently joined the Y because she was tired of being home alone after having lost her fiance a few months ago. I hope I helped her feel welcome.I told myself: I will tell the kids they can each pick out a movie, but they only have as much time as it takes me to return my books and pick up my holds. That worked great. Except I forgot to check if the movies were good choices or not. We shall see when I get home and open up the bag.I told myself: I will just run through the drive through at Taco Bell. Except the line was long, so we went inside. That worked okay, though. Everyone had one thing. Mine was a salad. I could have made it something smaller. I will probably have a mainly-vegetable dinner, and that will feel better inside.I told myself: I will only be 15 minutes late.And I was.Not perfect, but (since it was that same 15 minutes I forgot to schedule to nurse the baby), at least I closed all the balances. And my engineering brain can be happy with that.
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- Lifelong conversion.
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