The Appalling Story of MY Stuff (part 1)

I am reading The Story of Stuff by Annie Leonard. Apparently I missed the "internet film sensation" on which is the book is based, so I'm planning to track that down. At the moment I am experiencing a paradigm shift because there is so much about Stuff I just never thought about. Today I am a know-nothing. I have not even started the section on consumption and I am already appalled at my own habits.

Just for starters: I got these nifty disposable "foot spa" booties from Bath & Body Works (which were, predictably, made in China). I decided to pamper my feet while I read. I began reading about water shortages in developing countries and the abysmal working conditions in factories making absurd stuff for Americans to buy and the energy used to transport it halfway around the world. (Not to mention the toxicity of a lot of this stuff.) One of the questions Leonard poses before buying something is, "What was it like to be one of the factory workers who helped create it?" (p. 72) Now look at my feet. How ridiculous! Do the Chinese workers who make this crap have a better quality of life because I bought these booties? Could they even afford to buy the nonessential luxury stuff they are helping to make? Is it fulfilling work? What else could be made with those materials that could really make a difference in the world--medical supplies, maybe?

Then there is the cotton. Leonard goes into great detail describing the amount of water and pesticides used in cotton production, the impact on the workers and the environment, etc. I got up this morning and went through the same skin care routine I have done since college, which includes using a cottonball to apply astringent on my face. I do this twice daily, morning and bedtime and have for twenty years (gasp) for an approximate total of 14,600 cottonballs. This is just one of the things I use every day and throw away without ever thinking about where it came from, what was involved in making it, and what else might be done with those resources.

Back to the book.

public temper tantrums

Twice in the last week I have had to remove my 3-year-old son from a public place because he was misbehaving. BOTH times my very first boyfriend from 8th grade was on the scene. Incidentally I haven't seen the guy in at least 5 years until last week when I was dragging said son from a restaurant and noticed 8th grade boyfriend in the next booth. Apparently he and my husband had a nice chat while I sat in the car wishing I had earplugs. Today the babysitter called because she was at the end of her rope with same son. I showed up to drag him away from the super-fun playground and adored babysitter. Guess who was standing right there watching my son scream his head off, refuse shoes, and writhe out of my grasp several times before I got him to the car? 8th grade boyfriend, of course. What do you suppose he was thinking? Thank goodness I didn't end up with her???

On the way home we pulled over when son threw a book at Mommy's head while driving. Once home, son tried to lock himself in the car (not knowing what punishment was coming, but figuring he didn't want to find out?). Mommy pulled kid out of car, then (like an idiot) set him down, expecting him to walk into the house.

Barefoot child running
on gravel

Mother sprints
Fit, wearing tennis shoes
Yelling is futile.

Reaches for collar of
Airplane shirt.
Misses.

In the street
So mad and so thankful.

My personality type (Thanks TK)

Your #1 Match: ISFJ

The Nurturer You have a strong need to belong, and you very loyal.A good listener, you excell at helping others in practical ways.In your spare time, you enjoy engaging your senses through art, cooking, and music.You find it easy to be devoted to one person, who you do special things for. You would make a good interior designer, chef, or child psychologist.

What's" Your Personality Type?

Mother's Day

I just have to brag on my husband for a sec. On Mother's Day he took over and let me do whatever I wanted all day long. I got a great lunch (roast and potatoes), a long nap, time to do my toes, play outside and an awesome supper (spinach & chicken quesadillas). Apparently Zachary thought I was sick; at least that's what he told Janota at school yesterday. (Why else would I be in my room for 2 hours I guess!)

Gene said that as far as he was concerned, Mother's Day was about honoring the mother of his children as well as his own mother. Let me tell you, I was honored.

Joining Netflix

We rented Ray from Hastings and waited until the night it was due to sit down and watch it. We got the kids in bed, I put on my pajamas, took off my makeup, took out my contacts. We cuddled up to watch a movie together (a rare opportunity these days) and it skipped all over the place. Jumped past whole scenes. Now, this is about the 5th movie in the last year we've rented from Hastings for ourselves. It is the 4th from Hastings that has been unwatchable. So I put on my righteous indignation and drove up there in my pajamas and had it out with the night manager. I threw the raincheck back in his face (not literally!) and came home and signed up for Netflix. LOVE the website. If they come as quickly as it claims and the DVDs aren't scratched, I'm a happy camper.

Obsessing over house plans

Another thing I've been doing instead of blogging is obsessing over house plans online. Gene and I are buying some property on 18th St about 1/4 mile away from my Mom. (Can you believe my husband and my Mom are so close they both think this is wonderful?) Now, it will be at least a few years before we are ready to build. But I am obsessive/compulsive and I have now studied thousands of floor plans. I found the perfect one right off the bat but of course I had to make sure there wasn't a better one out there somewhere. After hours of searching, I can tell you that there isn't. Keep in mind we haven't closed on the property and it will be awhile before we can afford to build my dream house. By then I'll probably have it planned down to the baseboards.

Mowing the yard

Kiah just got onto me for not posting in a while. What have I been doing? Mowing mostly. My dad's birthday was last week and I've been missing him pretty badly. I've moped and felt sorry for myself and felt sorry for the kids for not getting to know him and sorry for my Mom who's getting ready to retire. They were looking forward to traveling together and being grandparents together and going on mission trips together. I've been feeling sorry for my Grandmother who misses him the most around his birthday and who is taking care of my bedridden Granddad who is lost somewhere else in time and thinks Zachary is Guy. I'm feeling sorry for my dad's brothers and sister who looked to him for leadership and peacemaking. I'm feeling sorry for my brother because I think he moved back to Ada much sooner than he would have if Dad hadn't died. What experiences did he miss out on? I've been feeling sorry for Gene who loved and respected him so much that Dad is his role model as a husband and father.

So on Dad's birthday I was searching for peace and found it--on his John Deere mower. We have had posession of Dad's mower since we moved here. It still has LOGSDON written in his handwriting on the back of the yellow seat. I wish I could transfer my mental image of Dad in mowing mode to print. Mom and Trey (and maybe Gene) are the only ones that can recall that picture of him. Let's just say he was dressed pretty funny and was really proud of his mower. So I got out there on the John Deere and basked in the memory of him.

Jeep or trampoline?

I need opinions. E&Z will be 3 next month, and we're debating what to get them. I want them to have an outside toy that they will spend a lot of time on. (We're talking 1 big-ticket item to share.) They've ridden/driven the little motorized jeep at our neighbor's house quite a bit and they love that. Zachary is a big-time car man. And we could cut "trails" in the tall grass in our back back yard. They also love to jump on trampolines. That's the first thing they go for at Janota's and Aunt Cindy's. They would get a lot more exercise jumping than driving. If we do that I would get a net with it. Please vote!

One more confession

This bag of chocolate chips survived unopened in my kitchen for 3 weeks.

Confessions of a Flybaby

I'm a packrat. I grew up saving EVERYTHING. I married a packrat. I save things because I get emotionally attached to stuff; he saves things because we might need them someday. When we lived in Tulsa, Gene's grandmother died and we bought her house. We inherited most of her furniture (including beautiful dining set), a lot of cookware, and a ton of stuff. We already had a houseful of stuff we had accumulated on our own. The house in Tulsa, even after a couple of garage sales, was packed to the gills. It was about 2200 square feet. When we moved to Ada, we bought a much smaller house--1600 square feet. No dining room. That beautiful dining set? It's in a closet. So this house was crammed, and that was before two babies and their quota of stuff.
There's also the added factor that I like things clean but didn't ever get around to cleaning until someone was coming over or the dirt was at crisis level. When I did clean I resented Gene for not helping. My resentment was unfounded because he was doing ALL of the cooking, but that's a whole other story. Our house was usually a complete wreck.
So the kicker was last summer (4th of July, maybe? I don't remember) we were at my in-laws celebrating a holiday and Zachary locked himself in the jeep. Both sets of keys were in the jeep where Gene and I had stupidly left them. We got him to push on the lock/unlock button, but he never would push it the right direction. (He's learned a lot since then--now he can put the key in the ignition and start her up.) We finally decided that we were going to have to go to my house and find the extra key. My mother-in-law and sister-in-law, both really with-it women whose homes are always spotless, went with me. Well we had been in a hurry that morning and the house was even worse than usual. I cringe still when I think of it. I was so embarassed. My sister-in-law was sympathetic; my mother-in-law couldn't stand to be in the house. She waited outside while I looked for the key, which I couldn't find because it could have been just about anywhere in that mess.
Zachary did finally make it out of the jeep, and was apparently not too traumatized since he still hops in the driver's seat any chance he gets. But I had had it with myself. My full-time job was to take care of my family and my home and I couldn't even keep my house presentable? I had always had good grades/successful career to draw my confidence from. Now this was my career and I sucked at it!
Well God must have heard my gritchin' and he spoke to me--through Dear Abby. Seriously, I can't believe I'm confessing this to the world! There was a Dear Abby article about this website that helps SHEs (Sidetracked Home Executives) get it together. So I checked out the website (It's flylady.net) I signed up. This was in July or August, and I'm still with it. I wrote down morning and evening routines and I do them every day and check them off. I spend 15 minutes every day decluttering my stuff. I set up a basic weekly schedule for cleaning (weekly home blessing hour--just the name changes my attitude), grocery shopping, etc. These are things that somehow my friends seem to know but I had to have somebody hold my hand and walk me through it. I plan meals ahead of time and cook just about every night. This is big, since Gene has always cooked. He would work 12 hours a day and still have to cook dinner. Now anyone can show up at my house anytime and I can welcome them with open arms. There's still a white trash look going on in the backyard, but I'm tackling that 15 minutes at a time. I had Thanksgiving at my house and when my cousin Beth (who has seen me at my worst) walked in she said, "your home is so peaceful." So my goofy Flybaby self is going to keep at it and ya'll come over anytime.

I'll Fly Away

My grandmother (Nonnie, my mom's mom) passed away 3 years ago. I've really been missing her lately. I'm finding that I'm a lot like her and I never realized that when she was living. Maybe it's motherhood that has changed me and I'm just now identifying with her. Anyway, in December 2001 I was just a couple of months pregnant and she was in the nursing home and not doing well. I woke up in the middle of the night with the hymn "I'll Fly Away" ringing in my head. Over and over. Beautiful. Early the next morning my mom called to tell me Nonnie had died, in the middle of the night, right about the time I was hearing that music.

Yesterday I was at a worship service and the closing hymn was "I'll Fly Away". Thank you God.

what I love about blogging

I can vent (love my family, but EZ too little and G too stressed to hear my gritchin')

I can tell cute stories about my kids--if you care, you read it. If you don't, you go on. I don't end up boring everybody.

I can change the color for my mood (thanks Kiah) red for ANGRY, blue for sad, yellow for mellow, purple for motivated and obsessive.

I can keep up with what's going on with my friends (no wonder I've felt so out of the loop-I wasn't reading your blogs!)

It's like a great party where you can roam around and get involved in conversations that interest you, without worrying about missing another great conversation on the other side of the room--you can catch that one later!

I can confess my sins (nothing worse to confess than what I've already said in SUNDAY SCHOOL-whoops!) and my hopes and dreams. I'm a lay-it-all out there person.

I can participate in a little adult banter anytime Barney has me down.