That organizing energy

Like all couples, my husband and I share stories about experiences we have shared, and we have whittled many of them down to a few words. Now that we have kids, the kids also get to take part in this… sometimes. We also have shorthand ways of talking about our experiences with our kids. (Once I’m sure it will have no weight anymore, I will explain one mysterious acronym our kids occasionally still hear: “DPT!”)

One of our oldest comes from when I first moved to Santa Cruz to be closer to my husband. The “love commute,” as we called it, was wearing us down. I was finally fulfilling my dream of living in San Francisco, but there was no way my husband was leaving Santa Cruz. So I moved south. I didn’t know anyone here, and since my husband worked OTH (over the hill) in Silicon Valley, he only had a few friends here, as well. Soon after I moved here, he found out that someone he had worked with was living here with his wife, and we arranged to go on a little adventure together. Upon arriving at the Capitola Wharf, where our adventure started, his wife looked at us and asked, “So who is the Organizing Energy in your family?”

She said it with those capital letters. We thought it was very funny, very California (as two transplants), and rather New Age-y. It was all of those, but it also got to an essential truth: Some of us have Organizing Energy. We can use our powers for good, but there is also a Dark Side.

As you have probably guessed, I am the Organizing Energy in our family. It’s really best not to have two OEs in one family, at least, not two adults. You can’t choose what kind of kids you’ll get, but from my point of view, you can always hope you’ll get a little OE there as well.

This winter break I am allowing my children free rein on the computers while I indulge my OE: So far I have reorganized our homeschooling supplies (oh, so satisfying to Get Rid Of) and prepared two of our garden beds. I also made more headway on transferring all my recipes to the wonderful Evernote. I am hoping to get to the bookshelves, and perhaps even to the CDs we don’t listen to because they’re all on our music server.

Now, I know that some of you are envious, because you tell me so. Moms with wistful looks on their faces tell me that they have been aching to get at that closet or that play room. Moms are amazed that I can find time to organize when there’s so much else to be done! But here’s the Dark Side of OE: sometimes it keeps you from doing what you really want to be doing. It can also, though this isn’t necessarily a bad thing, drive your children insane.

The Dark Side is what happens when I walk in the door, having dropped a kid off somewhere, with some set time in which to do something meaningful. Each child gets one morning a week of solo homeschooling, when I am supposed to be focusing just on that child. And occasionally (though less and less often), I get time when I’m at home all by myself.

I walk in that door, all ready to get started on the meaningful work I have chosen. I will have a mental list of all that needs to be accomplished, and then it’s all dashed from my mind when I open the door and my OE is assaulted by the scene within our living room. Days’ worth of mail piled on a table. Shoes strewn across the floor. My daughters’ dress up clothes, dropped as she shed them while walking toward the car. That stack of books I meant to look through. All the magazines I had piled next to me the last time I got a chance to sit on the couch and read magazines. The breakfast dishes, some still on the table.

The Dark Side of my OE starts to talk to me: You can’t really plan to homeschool your child in this mess, can you? How will you ever know what’s worth reading if you don’t go through those magazines? Perhaps there’s something important in that stack of mail. If you don’t do the breakfast dishes now, they’ll pile up at lunch, and then how will you ever get dinner on the table?

Then my OE talks through me to my child. Couldja do a little better at clearing your breakfast dishes next time? Did you really have to strew tiny clippings from plastic drinking straws all over the house? When I asked you to put away your laundry, did you really think I meant put it away on the floor of your room?

My kids are used to this. They weather it somewhat like we took in tornadoes when I was a kid: Oh, here it comes again. I think the basement should be safe.

And I get over it. I am like an alcoholic who has gotten past the stage of acknowledging her disease. I’m at the stage where I watch myself driving myself crazy by trying to get my life organized and think, Wow, I really should be doing something more meaningful with my time. Eventually, I do enough to soothe my OE into submission, my kids come crawling out from under the house, and we can get on with the messy business of life.

I have only one regret: No matter how I patiently teach them (“Isn’t it so much nicer to be able to access all your toys rather than have piles of them to sort through?”), badger them (“Please please please when I come upstairs let me not see that mess I asked you to clean up three hours ago”), and bribe them (“Will you keep that table cleared off if I PAY you?”), my kids seem to have inherited not one scrap of OE. Organization, for them, remains that thing they find most annoying about their mom. Someday, I’m guessing, they’ll have to go off and find a spouse to bring some OE into their lives.

If they don’t, I just can’t imagine what will become of them. My OE shudders at the thought that they will never, ever wake up and know that today—no matter whether they planned to find the cure for cancer or be the first human to step on Mar— is the day they really need to clean out the linen closet. And what kind of life would that be?

PS: My Santa Cruz friends should consider doing a little indulging of their organizing energy for a good cause. The Discovery Learning Center is having a big Flea Market as a benefit, and we’re looking for donations of your gently used toys, books, sports equipment, or other items you think other families would love to own. Visit the DLC to find out days when you can drop off stuff for our sale. And visit our sale on January 21!

Kool Kale

I’ve been somewhat into kale for a while, but two new recipes got me crazy for this wonderful vege. Before, I thought it had to be cooked for a long time. And if you’re cooking it in watery substances, it does. However, kale can be prepared with a variety of methods to very different effects.

Kale is excellent in almost every way. High in vitamin A and C, calcium, and lots of other good stuff. It is easily grown. In fact, it’s a weed, so when I see it priced like it’s some sort of boutique vege, it makes me mad. I challenge you not to be able to grow kale. I can do it in my redwood-shaded yard, so I bet you can, too.*

Personally, I think lacinato kale, which you seldom see for sale, is the best. But I’m happy with pretty much any kind, and these recipes are successful with whatever you’ve got on hand.

Kale chips

The first time I had kale chips, I paid an exorbitant price for a small bag in a health food store. Then my sister brought some she’d made, and I went crazy for them. They are easy, they are cheap, and if your kids are like my kids, they’ll love them, too.

Take a bunch of kale and rip the leaves off the stems. Discard the stems. Wash the leaves then spin them in a salad spinner or put them out to dry. They should be pretty dry before you proceed. Rip them into mouth-sized chunks (they will shrink a bit, but if you leave the chunks too big, they will get crumbs all over the place when you bite them). Put them into a bowl and dribble a little bit of olive oil on them. (Not very much at all.) Toss the leaves so the oil is distributed, then arrange them in a single layer on a cookie sheet. It helps to use parchment, but it’s not necessary. Sprinkle them with sea salt. Put them into a 300-degree oven, on convection if you have it. They will take about 15 minutes to dry out. You may need to turn them or spread them part of the way through. If the leaves are at all limp when you take them out, put them back in. They must be really dry or they’ll get soggy very quickly.

There are lots of variations possible: Make them Asian-style with sesame oil and tamari. Make them Italian with some herbs and parmesan. Get more creative if you’d like. I find that I never get around to the creativity because they’re so darn good with plain old olive oil and sea salt.**

Bruised Kale Salad

You don’t have to cook kale to get that deep color and nicer texture. Take kale leaves, sprinkle them with sea salt, and pound them  with some garlic till they get a brighter green color. This breaks down the cell walls, similar to cooking, but leaves all the nutrients. Put them in a bowl with some sort of acid and accompanying ingredients. Here are some good combinations:

balsamic vinegar
olive oil
parmesan
black pepper

rice vinegar
sesame oil
soy sauce

Here are my sister’s more adventurous combinations. Again, the simple version is so good I haven’t gotten around to doing anything this complicated:

rice vinegar, sesame oil, soy sauce, sesame seeds, edamame, arame (soak for 15 minutes before adding)

balsamic vinegar, red onion, olives, leftover chicken w/garlic or chick peas, feta cheese, leftover polenta or brown rice

lemon, red onion, leftover salmon, sunflower or pumpkin seeds, goat cheese

Beans ‘n’ greens

This is actually a cooked recipe, but it’s a big favorite in our house so I’m adding it. Cut kale (or chard) into strips. Saute garlic in olive oil just a bit until it releases its scent. Add the kale and sea salt and saute until limp. If you want the kale significantly more cooked than it is now, add a small amount of water or white wine, cover, and cook until almost done. Then add cannelini beans and cook until they start to break apart, about 5 minutes. Pepper vigorously and serve. Great with pasta.

Notes:

*Years ago, I read an article about the urban gardening movement that pointed out a huge problem that most people don’t know about. If you’re starting a new garden in an urban environment, or anywhere near a road, you should either remove the dirt and truck in “clean” garden dirt, or you should grow a couple of crops of dark-leafy greens and throw them away. That’s right, don’t compost like the good earth-person you are. Dark, leafy greens are fabulous at leaching heavy metals out of soil. If you’re in an urban environment, your soil is full of bad stuff. So don’t eat or compost your first couple of crops. Put them in the garbage!

**About sea salt: My dad the chemist tried to tell me that it’s just plain ole NaCl, no matter where it comes from. I agree, but there’s something different about sea salt. It has a brighter taste, and you need less of it to liven up your food. Try it, I dare you.

This neighborhood’s going to the dogs!

Out for my walk this morning, I decided to take a longer route, as I often do on Sundays. I started down a stretch of road that I don’t walk every day, and within thirty seconds, I saw the problem: two large dogs sniffing at the side of the road, apparently unaccompanied. I slowed and watched them, waiting to see if anyone was with them. They were alone, no human to be seen.

Then they saw me.

Here’s what I imagine was going on in the dog brain: Out here with my buddy, sniffing the road. Hey, is that Fido who came by here on his walk? Darn, I woulda liked to bark at him. Mm, squirrel. Where is it? I want to chase it. Out here with my buddy, alpha-dog inside in bed. Ooh, yeah, I smell that Flora came by this morning. Man, I’d love to get together with her when her alpha-dog didn’t have her by the leash. Wait: What’s that coming down the road? Someone else’s alpha-dog? Hey, Buddy, Look!

My family has had dogs—big dogs—all my life. So I get dogs, and I’m not unusually sensitive about them. The thing is, I also grew up in the Midwest where few people fenced or leashed their dogs, and I was a long-distance runner. So I know a lot about dogs whose alpha-dog/master isn’t around, and what they think of humans moving fast toward them. They think: Alpha-dog is inside in bed. I am now guardian of our property. I must defend against this fast-moving intruder!

Of course, as soon as the dog noticed me coming toward him at a fast pace, he started to growl. His growl attracted his buddy, who stood next to him and barked madly. Again I slowed to see if a human would come, but none did.

In my Midwestern running years, I carried mace. It was technically illegal in my state, but there was a loophole that allowed it to be shipped in front out-of-state. I found an ad in the back of Runner’s World Magazine. My parents thought it was a fine idea for me to carry it. Here in California, I am seldom threatened. The last serious time was when I was pregnant with my son. A dog (different dog) on this same stretch of road barked at me. It was a German Shepherd, but didn’t seem like it was too serious, so I walked on by. I misjudged. He rushed at me and caught the back of my shorts in his teeth. I screamed, a neighbor who was out in his yard yelled, and the dog retreated. No harm done, but that particular stretch of road does seem to be spooked with bad dog karma.

The growling dog looked like a Chow mix. I didn’t like the look of him. The ruckus they were making attracted all the other (fenced in) dogs in the neighborhood, and a mad barking started up. Not a single human looked out to see what was happening. I decided that this was not my battle to fight, and turned back to go the other way. The two dogs followed me at a distance, then lost interest as I left their territory.

Now, I know what some intense dog lovers are going to say: Those were perfectly nice dogs. They’d never bitten anyone. You were in no danger. The thing is, those intense dog lovers are fooling themselves. Dogs follow their instincts and their training. If you own a big dog, you know that it’s your job to become that dog’s alpha-dog, so that it responds to your commands. But when you’re not there? It’s not going to be the same dog, because it depends on your presence to follow those behavior patterns you’ve set up. A dog on the loose can always be a danger, especially to a fast-moving human coming into its territory.

Despite being raised around big dogs, my son went through a period of intense fear of dogs, as many young children do. I couldn’t count the number of times that an unleashed or long-leashed dog rushed him and the owner called out, “Don’t worry! He’s friendly!” The thing is, my kid was crying, screaming, and flailing his arms, not normal behavior for a child, as far as the dog knows. I worked with him each time we went for a walk, reminding him that when a dog rushed at us he should go completely still and quiet and he would be safer. But until my training kicked in and his fears were soothed, he was a danger to himself and to the dog, and any responsible owner should have seen that.

Some ago I wrote this article about the problem with kids and dogs in parks in Santa Cruz. All the parents I spoke to were reasonable. None of the pro-dog people returned my calls, so I can’t speak for how reasonable they are. But the fact is this: if you choose to bring an animal into your home, you choose to be responsible. And one responsibility you choose is to keep that animal from harming others or getting harmed because others fear its behavior.

No, I’ll never know whether that chow’s growl was serious. But if I’d had that can of mace in my hand, as I always did as a teen, I would have been willing to use it. So much easier, it seems, to keep your gate closed and your dogs off the street.

Nurturing your inner adult

There are times when I’m sitting with other moms and we’re talking about one of the standard subjects: If there’s a mom with a baby, we’re talking about nursing or sleeping. If there’s a mom with a toddler, we’re talking about a house full of mayhem. Any kid-related topic that comes up gets us talking about that subject, even if we’re long past it in our child-rearing lives.

Those times are wonderful and create such a great bonding experience, especially between moms. But then, occasionally, it occurs to me that we could actually be talking about something else. The thing is, we may know very little about the other parents amongst us outside of their child-rearing lives. Do we know what she thought she’d be doing as an adult when she was a teen? Do we know the bawdiest story she has from her days working as a barrista? Do we know about her former passion for roller derby? Do we have any idea what she used to talk about before she had kids?

That’s why I’m a big advocate of moms getting out of their mom circle and into the wider world. Even if the subject matter still involves kids, being with other adults passionate about the same thing feeds our inner lives and makes us much better parents.

This weekend I went to a children’s writing conference in Big Sur. Now, this may not sound so far from hanging out with a group of moms, and in some ways, it wasn’t. Though the majority of participants were female, and the majority of those were moms (and grandmas), we spent very little time exchanging information about our kids. Number and gender were the most common pieces of information, and possibly an anecdote or two would follow. But for the most part, we talked about our own passion for stories.

Many of the participants were probably like me: I’ve always loved children’s stories, but it was only as a mom that I started getting interested in writing them. But a fair amount of the participants were not yet parents, or were parents whose interest in children’s writing pre-dated parenthood. In any case, it was a weekend of intense talking about something that only tangentially related to our mom-lives, and the combined creative energy was invigorating.

For a few days, I handed my mom life off to my dad (since my mom was off being a mom to one of my siblings) and then my husband. As soon as I stepped out the door alone, I had that liberating feeling of being responsible for my self only. It’s not that I dislike being responsible for my kids, but when I step out of that life I feel like I’m a professional jockey on a horse bareback or a ballerina who kicks off her toe shoes and goes for pure personal expression. Just like the rider and the ballerina, I’m going to come back to my real life. But striking out on my own for a few days reminds me who I am, separate from my kids.

No matter what your interest, I recommend that you make a commitment to get out and do it occasionally without your kids. When you come home, I promise that you’ll be that much better of a parent, and that much happier of a person.

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