By Anne, on April 20th, 2012 Share In early 2011 we began exploring the idea of moving overseas. During this process we realized that even if we never got the chance to move to Paris, we were ready to move somewhere.
We decided we wanted to live:
- - in a bigger city that offered more culturally
- - somewhere more diverse
- - somewhere more liberal
- - somewhere with a warmer winter
After consulting google and doing a great deal of research both on-line and off, we decided on Durham, North Carolina. Ironically, we had the exact same plan in 1997 when we were living in Chicago. We had no plans to move back to my hometown, but wanted to leave Chicago. We researched and decided the research triangle area of North Carolina sounded nice and were planning to visit later that year to check it out. Before we ever got a chance to visit I got a little too homesick and we decided to move to back to Kansas.
This year marks thirteen years since we moved back to Kansas City. Part of my homesickness stemmed from the fact that the only contact I had with friends and family outside of my visits every few months, were letters and phone calls and that wasn’t enough to keep me feeling connected. Thirteen years later we have email, Facebook and Skype. I’ve had friends move away and seen that I am still very much connected to them. Moving away from family and friends isn’t scary anymore.
Almost nine years ago I became a mother and since then, my idea of the best place to raise a family has changed dramatically. At first, the most important thing was to live in the best school district. What I didn’t realize then was that later I would see that living there meant I was exposing my children to the idea that, by comparison, the poor people lived in $200,000 houses. We were showing them that ‘normal’ was white, wealthy, straight and Christian. I have nothing against any of those things, but I want my children to see that those are just some of the many ways to be in this world. That these things do not define normal, but just that they are common. I want them to also have friends who are black, not wealthy, gay and Jewish or Atheist or Muslim or Hindu. I want them to see more than just one way of being.
Now that my husband has found a new job, we just need to sell our house here in Kansas, and then we’ll be moving. The bittersweet feelings remind me of leaving for college. I couldn’t be more excited. I know it is going to be amazing! And I’m also a little scared. I’m sad to leave my family and friends. But even though I’m a little scared and sad, I know it is going to be a great adventure and I can’t wait for it to begin.
Dark and silent late last night
I think I might have heard the highway calling
Geese in flight and dogs that bite
Signs that might be omens say I’m going, going
I’m goin’ to Carolina in my mind
James Taylor
By Anne, on March 15th, 2012 Share There are two kinds of bored. The good kind, where you don’t have anything to do and you haven’t figured out what you are going to do next. And the bad kind, where you are doing something, but you wish you weren’t.
My boys tell me regularly that they are bored. They don’t realize it, but they are talking about the good kind. When I hear this, I think to myself, “I can’t remember the last time I was good bored.” The bad kind, on the other hand, is something I feel almost daily.
While I love my family deeply, I find being a stay-at-home mom to be mind-numbingly boring. There, I said it.
I’ve looked for a part-time flexible job, but the reality is that these jobs are very few and far between. And with three young children and a husband who travels regularly, I would probably not be the most reliable employee. In the last month alone I had two days with different kids home sick. Taking a job outside the home might allow me to use my brain more and socialize with adults, but it would create a lot of other stresses for me and the family in general. So for now, I feel like my job is to be on-call for the family. When someone needs picked up sick from school, needs to stay home sick, or needs to go to the doctor or dentist, I can take them — free from guilt about missing work. I’m okay with that. I like taking care of my family when they need to be cared for. I want to be able to take care of them free from any guilt. They are my priority. But what percentage of the time do they actually need to be cared for in this way? 5%? And the rest of the time I’m just on-call. Meal planning. Making grocery lists. Running errands. Looking at the dust accumulate because I just can’t manage to care enough to dust (unless company is coming). Filling my time with this and that until it’s time to meet the bus or make dinner. I almost fell asleep just writing about it.
My boys aren’t babies anymore so they aren’t literally attached to me the way they once were. They are starting to play at friends’ houses and run around the neighborhood for hours at a time. I am home for them, but not really with them.
Since I choose not to work outside the home, but am bored being home, without realizing it, I gave myself the unpaid job of researcher. I don’t remember when my research obsession began, but I’m guessing it started around the same time that I stopped working. Something would catch my attention and I’d starting putting books on hold on the library and surfing around trying to learn whatever I could. Some recent self-evaluation brought me to the conclusion that I might always be finding these new research projects in order to keep my brain stimulated. I overwhelm myself with a dozen or more books on a certain subject and once I’ve made my way through them, gotten my notes in order and my opinions formed, it doesn’t seem like much time passes before I find myself diving into another subject. And while I find great pleasure and satisfaction in acquiring this new knowledge and keeping my brain active, I wonder what would happen if I let myself get good bored. Would it be like an extended period of meditation where if I let my mind stay empty long enough some pretty profound stuff comes through? Would I use the time to exercise because I don’t have a pile of books as an excuse not to? Would I hear an inner voice whispering direction? Would I go crazy? Would I start liking housework because I have nothing better to do? (Maybe the crazy started with that last one. 
I’d like to find out what will happen so I’ve committed to not taking on any new research projects for a while. I’ve committed to not putting any more non-fiction books on hold at the library. I’ve committed to trying to let myself get good and bored. Getting quiet. Listening.
By Anne, on March 1st, 2012 Share Earlier this year I read the book The Gift of Fear after I heard someone on a talk show say that every woman in America should read it. How could I resist!?
The book was fascinating and empowering. It gave a lot of information on what to do when you are in a threatening situation and how to interpret the actions of an offender. As the title suggests, fear is a gift that we have that helps us to determine when we are in danger. Reading this book really got me thinking a lot about following our instincts and how in many ways we are conditioned to ignore them and how far reaching the negative effects of this can be.
We don’t believe in happy plates at our house, but we encourage the boys to listen to their bodies to see if they are still hungry.
We talk about taking a reasonable portion and how you can always get more if your body tells you that you are still hungry. There have been times where I’ve tried to get one of the boys to eat more of something and they will fuss back at me that their body is telling them that they are full. Good for them, I’m doing something right. Today they are fussing at me for trying to make them do something that their body is telling them not to do (shame on me), and tomorrow they will be standing up for themselves in some other way. And of course they don’t get to say they are full and then go have cookies.
We were all raised to do what we were told by our parents at home and by our teachers at school and by our coaches and doctors and of course there is a need for this some of the time. But when were we taught the importance of listening to our own inner voice? To our own bodies? When our body feels tired , we need to rest. When our bodies tell us that we are full, we should stop eating. When our bodies tell us (through reactions to stress) that we need to slow down and relax, we need to do it. Ignoring our inner voice and messages from our bodies is going to get us fat, tired and stressed or worse. Just as ignoring our fear of a situation could mean finding ourselves in danger. Is it any surprise when we become adults that are so un-used to listening to our inner wisdom that we then look for any pundit, nutritional expert or self-help guru to tell us what to do, what to eat and how to think. Are they telling us anything that we wouldn’t already know if we were listening to our inner wisdom?
In trying to nurture the boys own instincts I find myself having to question my own motives a lot to make sure I am serving their needs and not my own ego.
Instead of making one of my boys play with the neighbor boy who is often not very nice, I talk to them about how everyone can have bad days but that it’s also ok to choose not to play with someone when they aren’t being nice. I tell him that it’s his decision to make.
I talk to the boys about not being afraid of strangers who say hello to them, but that they need to listen to the voice inside them that tells them if they are safe or not.
I don’t want to suddenly give them control of their own lives at 18, nor do I want to struggle to keep more of the control than I need to have. I want them to feel like I listened to them, that I heard them and that I encouraged them to listen to their own inner whisper. I’m not saying that they have complete control of their lives right now, but I want them to feel competent to make as many decisions for themselves as they can that are appropriate for their age.
I hope that by encouraging the boys to listen to their instincts and their inner voice that they will become confident adults who make decisions that not only keep them safe, but that also lead them towards their passion.
By Anne, on February 15th, 2012 Share About three months ago, I started paying attention. I started paying attention to the frequency with which I found myself reading about issues with the U.S. public education system. I started paying attention to comments my kids’ teachers were making and, more importantly, to the things my boys were saying about their schooling. I started paying attention to the little voice inside that said, “this is not the education you want for your kids. Dig deeper. Find out what is going on. Look for another way.”
Three months ago, I started talking to my husband about the education we wanted for our boys. We started reading and researching together and engaging in lengthy discussions on the topic. Eventually, we looked to see what the options were for giving our boys the kind of education that we valued. I read a lot about homeschooling in my research and decided to learn more about it. I never in a million years thought I would or could homeschool, but that’s like saying you could never run into a burning building. Under the right circumstances, you can and you will do it if it means helping your child. After doing weeks of research, I knew I could do it and I knew I could do it well.
During this time we had many many conversations with the boys about homeschooling and what they would think of the idea. We had a neighborhood friend who homeschooled so it wasn’t a foreign idea to them. They actually seemed excited about it. We talked to them over the next few weeks about how they thought they would feel about not going to school anymore. We asked them what they thought they would like about home school and what they thought they wouldn’t like about it. We asked them what they didn’t like about public school. We asked them about what they thought they might like to learn about in homeschool that they weren’t learning about in public school.
A few weeks ago, I kept the older boys home and did a trial homeschool run for two days. I thought for sure they would sleep in like they do on weekends, but surprisingly they were out of bed before the time I typically have to drag them out to catch the bus. We did math, spelling, French, typing, history, science, writing, reading and computer skills. Eventually, we’ll add a couple more subjects, but these were just practice days. I just wanted them to have an understanding of what homeschool would really be like. We all loved it. I’m not saying it was easy and fun from start to finish, but we all loved it. At the end of the second day we talked about when they might want to be done with public school and picked a date three weeks out — Valentine’s Day. They wanted to go out with a bang and have their last day be the day of a school party.
So here we are. Our first official day of homeschooling. The one that isn’t just for practice. The one that really counts.
I’ll teach you to jump on the wind’s back, and then away we go. — Peter Pan
By Anne, on February 1st, 2012 Share Disclaimer: Yes, I realize this entire post is passive-aggressive. But it’s also totally cathartic, which cancels out the passive aggressiveness.
Most of the time I really hate being given unsolicited advice. Maybe it’s because I’m an oldest child and didn’t have any older siblings giving me any advice. Or maybe it’s because my parents aren’t really advice-giving kind of people and so they’ve spoiled me by being curious about my life without telling me how they think I should live it.
Matt Hearn says “I want to stress that these are my own particular views, and while they may appear very different from others’, I consider that to be completely appropriate.”
I share this sentiment and this is probably why unsolicited advice confuses and frustrates me.
It’s not that I think I can figure things out on my own all the time. On the contrary, I am constantly reading and educating myself on this and that in order to make good decisions that are based on the values that my husband and I share for our family. I seek out the people that can give me the information I need, carefully evaluate all my research and then make a decision. I’m good at it. I make good decisions. All the time. Every day. I have an excellent track record.
So, for instance, when I answer ‘no’ to the question “are your kids in any activities?” and that follows with a lecture about how we really need to do that, I want to punch the advice-giver in the throat.
Clearly, I have some issues about this. Maybe I should blame this on my family. I could get some good couch time out of that. If they had only tried to shove their opinions down my throat more as I was growing up, I would be more used to it and wouldn’t be so annoyed by it as an adult.
Regardless of any familial blame, I realize that I have two choices here: try to change them, or try to change me.
Option #1 – Try to change them
I’ve tried being subtle, but some people are just oblivious. They ask questions only to determine which advice they should give next and don’t seem to notice or care why I continue to change the subject. It doesn’t seem to occur to them that there is more than just their way of doing things and that I am perfectly happy with my way and that I have very good reasons for doing things my way.
Another possibility here is to try to have a conversation with them about how this regular assault of unsolicited advice makes me feel and what effect it has on my relationship with them. As I mentioned before, it makes me want to punch them in the throat, but also it makes me not want to share much with them because I don’t want to hear their advice.
I haven’t really had much luck with this option.
Option #2 – Try to change me
This is a tough one. I try to be pretty zen most of the time and consider myself to be somewhat enlightened, but more often than I would like, I lose my zen when I need it the most.
I read a great book recently (I know, surprise surprise) called How to Get a Grip by Matthew Kimberly and I think I might have found a strategy to help me keep my zen in these times of unwelcome advice.
He writes: “If something somebody says makes you twitchy, ask yourself if you can put it down to ignorance, stupidity or that form of Tourette’s syndrome that causes sporadic profanity. The answer is usually yes. Ask yourself this: ‘Was the intention of that person’s actions to cause me offense or is he just somebody who doesn’t do things the way I do things?’ The answer is normally: ‘No, that person’s intention wasn’t to cause me offense, therefore I won’t get upset.’ Other people are stupid. Put it down to stupidity. You can forgive that, can’t you? On the few occasions that the answer is ‘Actually, yes, I think he did want me to take offense’, then don’t take the bait. Smile and nod and say something mildly patronizing but largely innocuous. Don’t give any of those bastards the satisfaction of seeing you upset. If you’re still inclined to take issue with something, because your life is incomplete without drama, then so be it. I’m not here to tell you what to do, dick-head. And while your decision to not get miffed over something somebody else says or does is all very brave and good and estimable, it ignores the underlying key to the whole point about dealing with other people: WHAT OTHER PEOPLE THINK ISN’T IMPORTANT.”
I think I can work with this. It’s much easier for me to think of it as ignorance or a syndrome the advice-giver can’t help having than it is for me to deal with the possibility that they just don’t care enough about our relationship to notice that they are damaging it with their constant advice that shadows any genuine interest they might have in my life. So I’m going to try pretending that people who give me unsolicited advice have a form of Tourettes.
Ideally, the people in my life would notice that I’m doing really well making decisions on my own and assume that if I need advice I will ask for it. Ideally they would realize that I am a smart girl and would notice that I am doing a damn good job of taking care of my family. But people are stupid, or they have Tourettes, and they don’t notice these things.
Since this is the real world, the best I can do is to remember that what other people think isn’t important, even if they are people that I love. As long as the five people who live in my house are good, then all is right in my world. I’m just going to pretend that the advice-givers have Tourettes so that I can unclench my fist and try to think of what to change the subject to next.
“The thoughts I am thinking right now are what’s making me unhappy, nothing else..” — Eckhart Tolle
By Anne, on January 16th, 2012 Share I’m going to home school my kids.
For those of you whose jaws are hanging open, I know exactly how you feel. Even I’m still surprised sometimes when I think about it. Some of you may have even heard me at one time use the phrase “Hell No!” when asked if I would ever consider homeschooling my kids and so this news might come as even more of a shock.
Because this post isn’t about homeschooling or why we are choosing to do so, I’ll just briefly explain that as the U.S. continues to fall further down the list when compared to other nations, we feel the opportunity for educational excellence being wasted by continuing to send our boys to public school. They are very bright children who are starting to see that their “reward” for understanding their work easily is to be given MORE WORK to keep them busy and we are starting to see public schools as little more than test prep centers.
So there I was at what we’ll call point A which was “Hell no I am never going to homeschool my kids I’d rather be poked in the eye with a stick repeatedly.”
But little things started happening that all started to add up to this radical change in opinion.
- I kept reading in the news and in random magazines and books about the problems with the U.S. school system and it’s effect on the education of our children.
- I watched Waiting for Superman (I was crying by the end).
- I kept hearing my boys talk about certain things that were happening at school.
Given that a private school is not in our budget I started to warm to the idea of homeschooling. After talking to my husband to make sure he was on board, I did A LOT of research (shocker) and not only did I decided that homeschooling was something that I could do in terms of keeping my sanity, I was actually excited about it. I was at point Z. WTF? How did I end up here?
For days I was alternately excited and bewildered by my recent change in my position on homeschooling my kids. In some way, I was in a bit of shock over the decision- like I didn’t recognize myself or something.
I kept thinking about how it had seemingly taken so little for me to change what I thought was a strong position. I wondered what other small pieces of information are standing in the way of me changing my mind position on other things. I think the key here for me is that this involved my children and as a mother you will do anything to take care of your children. In this case for me, taking care of them means giving them a better education, of the kind we value, than they can get at a public school.
They don’t say “Never say never” for nothing. Life has shown me repeatedly over the last few years that I will grow and change in my beliefs and opinions about a great many things. And that the things I never think I’ll do– like move out of a house we built planning to stay forever or homeschooling my kids, are things that might make perfect sense given the right circumstances or mindset.
I guess I’m starting to see life less as a set plan that has been put into motion, and more as a great adventure. Three years ago, if you asked me where we would be in five years, I’d say that of course we would still be living in our house in Overland Park with our three boys going to the neighborhood school. But my answer today is very different. I have no idea where we will be in five years. I have no idea what opportunities will come our way, but I sure am excited to find out.
“Trust in families and neighborhoods and individuals to make sense of the important question, “What is education for?” If some of them answer differently from what you might prefer, that’s really not your business, and it shouldn’t be your problem.”
John Taylor Gatto
By Anne, on January 1st, 2012 Share A little over a year ago I was in full research mode as my husband and I discussed the possibility of him taking a job assignment overseas. In addition looking into housing and schools I knew that I would need something to keep myself busy without having friends, family, photography or a gym. My friend Mara at Kosher on a Budget had recently started her blog so I spent a couple hours one day asking her questions about how she did it and she graciously offered me her help and pointed me to some resources. After reading a lot of blogs and trying to figure out what my niche could be, I decided to write about my own life and the things I spend my time doing and talking about the most. I could also easily incorporate our expat experience should it come to pass. Tools for living a simpler life is the tagline for this blog and while that’s what it started out being about; recipes, meal planning, organization, etc… that’s not what I’m most interested in, it’s just what takes up most of my time as a wife and mother and I’ve found ways to be efficient at these things.
As my posts have gone from being about planning and recipes to being much more personal, Tools for living a simpler life doesn’t feel like appropriate description of what this blog is about anymore. I’m not really writing about what I do to keep my life simple, I’m simply writing about my life as I try to become who I am. So, I think it’s time for the tagline to go. I’m probably committing some blogosphere crime by not having a tag line, but I’m comfortable being the odd ball.
Antoine-Marie-Roger de Saint-Exupery said, “Perfection is achieved, not when there is nothing more to add, but when there is nothing left to take away.”
Similarly, when Michelangelo was asked how he made David he said, “David was always inside the marble, I just chipped away everything that was not David.”
And finally, as one of my favorite bloggers Francine Jay at Miss Minimalist says: Curate. When you limit what you own, every item counts. When you limit what you do, every action counts. When you limit what you say, every word counts. Therefore, it’s important to choose your possessions, actions, and words with deliberation and care.
These quotes get at the heart of the title of this blog and at the heart of the person I want to become. I will not have the perfect life by adding possessions, planning endless activities and cramming as much as I can into each day. But rather, the perfection of life will reveal itself as I peel away the layers of stuff and busyness. As I allow there to be space in my schedule, I am free to savor every moment without having to rush from one thing to the next. As I make space between my possessions I am able to more fully appreciate the things I have chosen to keep.
This blog has helped me to evaluate my life and I’ve changed a lot because of my writing in the last year.
I’m looking forward to another year of self reflection.
By Anne, on December 16th, 2011 Share I’ve been trying for months to put a new focus around what I’ll be writing in this blog.
I’ve actually been worrying a bit trying to figure it out. But I’m starting to wonder if all my worrying is just an excuse not to write at all. Maybe it’s me getting in my own way again. Getting in the way of what I say I want.
If I write nothing, then it can’t be bad or boring or preachy (all the things I don’t want to be).
Seth Godin’s blog post “Talker’s Block” says that writers should strive to produce clear, crisp, honest writing about what they see in the world. Or want to see.
I recently read a few of Ayn Rand’s journal entries. She said she wrote them “not for any audience, but for the clarity of her own understanding.” Perhaps that’s what I need to consider as I write.
Clear, crisp, honest writing about what I see in the world. Or want to see.
I think I can do that.
By Anne, on December 2nd, 2011 Share Some people do their best thinking in the shower. I do my best cleaning when I’m on the phone.
I’ll never clean otherwise. But get me on the phone and I’m wiping down the cabinets, cleaning the refrigerator and de-cluttering everywhere. One day about five years ago, while on the phone, I went into my walk-in closet and noticed a few things that we never used. Our house was plenty big and the closet wasn’t overflowing, but I grabbed a box for the seldom used items. I looked again and saw a few more things, and then a few more and so on. When I was done, I could see what was left just a little more clearly. By putting space between the things I’d kept, I was able to notice and appreciate everything more. It felt good. I was hooked. An addiction was born. I am still getting rid of our stuff.
I don’t know what it was about that moment or that day. Perhaps feeling overwhelmed with raising these three little boys and all their toys and clothes and equipment all over the place left me feeling suffocated by all the stuff. Maybe feeling out of control of my life and at times helpless to know if I’m doing the right thing as a parent left me feeling like I wanted to have control of something.
While life definitely feels more manageable now that the boys are older, I have new motivations for getting rid of stuff.
My family and friends think that it’s a little odd to be getting rid of things when there’s plenty of room for it, and I’ve never really been able to explain why I feel so good when I get rid of my stuff.
It’s really more than just a pleasure; it’s an actual relief. As if I’d been carrying each item around with me and getting rid of it allows me to move more freely, breathe more deeply. I’ve grown to see each possession like a small pet, a goldfish. Individually, they’re small and don’t take up much space. It doesn’t take much time to feed and care for them, but when you add up all the goldfish you’ve collected over the years, it’s a lot. Each item is a responsibility. A responsibility to make space for it (which sometimes means buying more storage), a responsibility to clean it, provide for it and pack it up and move it when it’s time . And when you have so many fish, none of them are very special.
Each time I decide to get rid of something, I feel like a tiny burden has been lifted. I am free from the responsibility of caring for that item. I see the space that has been made by its departure and I feel lighter.
So now whenever my husband and I talk about whether or not we should get rid of something “big” or “meaningful,” we look at it as another goldfish.
By Anne, on November 17th, 2011 Share Organized. Efficient. Planner. These three words are often used to describe me. And deservedly so. I really like to get things done. Not just so I can check them off my list, but because getting things done means that I can move on to what I love doing without anything hanging over my head. And there’s the problem: my thinking that the tasks on my list are things that I have to do and not things that I want to do. By thinking this way, I have put my happiness off into the future and made it conditional to checking things off of a list.
I notice this tendency in my emotional life as well. I don’t like to feel bad, and I want to get unpleasant emotions over with as soon as possible. Goodbyes? Hate them. I rush through them eager to be on the other side of my emotional discomfort. Moving? I’ll be happy when the house gets sold. When we’re in our new house. When the new house is unpacked. When we finally feel settled. Busy? I’ll be happy when I get past this busy time. When I have some time to myself. When we get to our next vacation. You see the pattern.
By not being fully present during these times, the moments when I’m focused on getting things done, I wonder what I might be missing out on. Maybe I would have learned even greater lessons. At the very least I would have been fully present, no matter the perceived quality of the situation. If I try to avoid all the bad stuff, how much of my life am I going to miss?
When we moved out of our home two years ago I remember having those familiar feelings of wanting to rush past the painful last moments before we walked out the door for the last time. We had built that house ten years before thinking that we would stay in it forever. My husband was taking his time walking from room to room alone with his thoughts and memories. I wanted to run out the door away from the sadness. But suddenly, I realized that I was missing out on my opportunity to say goodbye. To say goodbye to our dream of raising our children in one home, symbolizing the stability that my childhood never had. To say goodbye to the house that I brought all three of my babies home to for the first time. To say goodbye to the last place I ever saw my mom. To say goodbye to the place of countless celebrations and memories. To recognize how much that house had meant to me and to be honest with myself about how I felt leaving it. To sit and think about how I got from wanting one thing and then ten years later wanting something completely different.
I was happy with our decision to sell that house and was so excited for our new house and new town. In the past I would have just run out of the house and tried to think only about the exciting things that were to come. But this was my one and only chance to walk through the old house for the last time to say goodbye. So I did it. I walked from room to room thinking about the things that had happened there over the last decade. I cried. I was sad. But I survived. I felt good walking out for the last time. Not like I was running away from something. Instead, satisfied.
The house I live in now is, at the moment, a complete wreck. In the past I would have gotten all worked up trying to get it back in order as quickly as possible. As if nothing can be enjoyed until that is done.
Thich Nhat Hanh reminds me…
There are two ways to wash the dishes.
The first is to wash the dishes in order to have clean dishes
and the second is to wash the dishes in order to wash the dishes.
Today, as I pick up the mess, I’m going try to think about the great weekend we had making the mess and not see the picking up as an obstacle to enjoying life.
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