I've got a secret...

I have to fess up.
I just can't keep this quiet any longer.
It's something we've done half a dozen times so far this year.
My family has gone dumpster-diving.
Yes, despite our comfortable six-figure income (thanks, honey), I have participated, albeit minimally, in the growing movement called Freeganism.
We had a rather tight month in January, as we have been hard at work paying off a sizable consumer debt, when I came across an article about dumpster-diving. Hmmm, could we do that? Eww, could we do that? I brought the subject up with my husband and kids and got a predictable mixture of responses - from gross, to cool, to is that legal? (a little, yeah and absolutely)
I knew my husband would be easy to convince. He'll do anything to save a dime. The consumer debt is primarily my fault, and believe me, I've learned my lesson and reformed my ways. (It was my idea to downsize our housing. See?)
My oldest son, Stephen, is extremely environmentally conscious, and once he was assured of the legality, he was all for it. In fact, he and my husband went on the first foray in the chill depths of January. It seemed like a good time, as any germs would surely be frozen. The first expedition yielded bread from a swanky local bakery, more bread from the grocery store, and packaged pretzels and potato chips (organic, no less) from a small, also swanky, grocery store.
Since then, we've only gone a couple more times. Once my youngest daughter and dh went out and returned with pounds of cherries from the grocery store dumpster. Once they were cleaned and sorted, we snarfed down more Bing cherries that week than I might have bought in July.
I must admit, though it was my idea, I have only gone twice and I don't think I'd have the guts to dive alone. The first time I sat in the car, cowering behind the sun visor as my husband approached a couple guys on the loading dock. They were just about to throw out culled vegetables and let dh go through the boxes first. That trip netted a perfectly fine, organic red pepper, a beautiful eggplant and other assorted veggies.
My second trip was last night on the way to pick up my older daughter from a friend's house. Dh and I stopped again at the dumpster of the swanky bakery. Now, let me clarify: No actual diving is involved. Dh was able to reach loaf after loaf of artisan bread out of the dumpster without even standing on tip-toe. All the loaves, though unwrapped, were on top of boxes and each other. Not a one ever touched the sides, top or bottom of the dumpster.
Granted, this bread was already day-old, but it fit nicely into our freezer and also provided the bread for ham and cheese sandwiches for supper.
Oh, and I stayed in the car again this time, but the doors were open and I didn't cower. Not even a little bit.
I couldn't help but wonder, though, at the obvious wastefulness. With a little sorting, the grocery store and the bakery could easily donate most of the items we have retrieved to a food pantry or homeless shelter. The need is so great and only getting greater. The bakery, certainly, could have donated the 50 or so loaves of bread we found. I would presume they could receive a tax write-off for the full amount as well. In fact, I plan to call them and ask if they've considered making food donations.
Over this past year I have become more and more aware of my own wastefulness and am taking steps to reduce it as much as possible. We've started recycling more, including toilet paper tubes and those plastic containers strawberries come in (I never knew they could be recycled until recently). I think twice before I throw almost anything away, trying to either recycle, re-purpose or give away items I no longer want or need.
I'm know I'm not stopping hunger by retrieving these thrown-away food items. But I get a level of satisfaction in knowing that by using what would otherwise go to waste, I am at least being frugal. At best, I am teaching my children the value of food and the importance of not wasting resources.
I know I'm not going to save the world on my own. But I like to think that by setting an example as best I can, my family's behaviors will influence others.
Oh, and to my friends IRL - don't worry. I don't serve my dumpster delicacies to anyone but my family.

Ditched by my Doctor

Over the last few years I have developed a strange disabililty: I am unable to make appointments with my doctor. Actually, making appointments with any doctor has become exceedingly difficult. But, after being several years behind in my "yearly" exams, and thanks to some not-so-gentle prodding from my friends, I finally called my family practitioner and made an appointment last fall.
I hadn't seen this doctor for so long that my records hadn't made the switch from paper to the handy, portable computer he carried into the exam room.
I like this doctor. He has taken me seriously in the past and I have never felt judged or uncomfortable in his presence - all three or four times I've seen him in the last 12 years or so.
I have had issues with fibromyalgia and extreme fatigue for years now. At least, I think it's fibromyalgia, though I've never followed through with the zillions of tests it takes to first eliminate every other possible disease it isn't. That's the only way to find out for sure and I never felt as if I had the time or the energy to pursue the definitive diagnosis.
So, I had my physical and was to follow up with blood tests, a mammogram and colonoscopy (family history, not symptoms).
This was in September. By the end of November I realized that there was no way - no way - I could get to the clinic first thing in morning for the fasting blood test without my coffee. My coffee is vitally important to me. Sometimes at night, when I'm drifting off to sleep, I'm already thinking about that first cup of Sumatran dark roast. And I can't drink it black. If I were to try to leave home at 7:30 in the morning without any coffee at all, I'm afraid they'd find my blathering nearly comatose body in a ditch somewhere and I wouldn't even have managed to have the blood drawn. Besides, if I did somehow get to the appointment sans coffee I know I would be a wreck the entire rest of the day. Who would feed my children and scoop my cats' litter boxes? Who would answer the phone and fold laundry?
You begin to see my dilemma. Can't leave house early in the a.m. without coffee, therefore can't get blood drawn for testing.
In December I received a gently-phrased, yet somehow accusatory, letter from the doctor's office asking, Was I alright? They had noticed that I hadn't made my appointments for the blood test, mammogram or colonoscopy? Was there anything they could do to help me?
I felt like I had been called down to the principal's office and this little lapse in responsible behavior would go down in my permanent record. Forever. Surely they weren't going to call my Mom. Were they?
The letter, along with the unrelenting fatigue, did prod me to act responsibly.
I complained to my husband.
And complained to my husband.
Did I say I complained to my husband?
I explained how there was no way I could make this appointment, let alone drive myself there alone. Without coffee. In the morning. Perhaps it was because he loves me so much and hates how he suffers how I suffer from my fatigue, but finally, in February my husband called and made my appointment. On the day of the appointment, he woke me up, drove me to the appointment and even put up with my crabbiness the whole way. On the way home, he bought me a Starbucks.
Whew. I had finally done it! I'd had my blood drawn. Now all I had to do was make the mammogram and colonoscopy appointments and I could cross "responsible care of self" off my list for 2008.
Then I got the call. My blood test results indicated hypothyroidism. This could explain everything: the fatigue, irritability, imbalanced cholesterol, weight gain, depression, skin breakouts, heavy periods - in short, I could blame my whole personality on a faulty thyroid. I was thrilled!
I made another appointment with my doctor to talk about hypothyroidism and pick up a prescription. I only had to cancel this appointment once, but that was because of the snow. Really. This one was pretty easy, though, because I could have my coffee and eat breakfast and not have to be at the doctor's office until 1 p.m. I could do this! (Besides, my husband was in South America at the time...)
Made the appointment, was horrified at how much weight I've actually gained in the last five years, picked up my prescription and was good to go. On the way out, I made an appointment for a follow up blood test in six weeks, confident of my new-found ability to take responsibility for my health. I even started exercising nearly every day, just like the doctor told me to.
And, lo and behold, over this last month and a half, I have started feeling better. Lots better. I have a ton more energy and have found myself doing household chores even when company isn't coming. Woo-hoo!
In the interum, I also scheduled the mammogram. I was on a roll!
I knew the follow-up appointment was coming up. I was on the second month of the prescription, so it had to be. I didn't search for the appointment card which is buried somewhere in my purse. The office always calls the day before to remind people of their appointments. I was a little nervous about the coffee thing, but figured I could manage this one myself. Somehow. And I am feeling better. Lots.
Last weekend was really, really busy. We had just gotten home from a spring break trip to Chicago and had two birthdays with Easter sandwiched in between. My husband and youngest were also sick all weekend and on Monday. Somehow, I forgot to check the answering machine all week.
Yes, I know, that was also irresponsible of me. Let's just say I have lots of phone issues.
I called my husband this afternoon (I can call him) and he casually mentioned that he'd listened to the messages last night and there was one from the doctor's office. Did I know I had an appointment on Monday?
Umm, which Monday?
He didn't know. The message didn't say.
I quickly called the office and the receptionist confirmed my worst fear: I had missed my appointment. I was a No Show. I apologized profusely, wanting to explain the pitiful details of my life and yet not wanting my listening children to hear that their mother had been labeled a NO SHOW and it was her own fault.
So, could I schedule an appointment as soon as possible?
"There's a note here that says you were a NO SHOW and he won't see you again."
What? Umm, I don't know any other doctors in that practice and I really need this follow-up appointment to make sure my dosage is correct, that I'm losing weight, that my cholesterol is back in balance.
I think she might have been able to hear the panic in my voice.
She offered to send my apology to the nurses and I would probably hear from them next week. Probably.
My doctor ditched me. I made one little mistake and he banned me. I've been banned by a person who took an oath to help me, no less.
I could understand having to pay for the missed appointment. That seems perfectly fair. But really, I only made one mistake. One mistake with his office, anyway.
So, I'll wait to see if I get a call next week. I'll even listen to the answering machine. But I don't think I can see this doctor again. I want my doctor to be forgiving and compassionate - at least a little bit.
Wow, now I not only have to find another doctor. But I have to call and make an appointment...

I'm still learning...

I’ve been thinking lately about terminology.

I’ve never been one to define myself by a philosophy or methodology. I don’t seem to be able to declare myself 100 per cent “anything.” Maybe I’m just wishy-washy, but I think it has as much to do with seeing the world in shades of gray, rather than black and white.

What am I blathering on about here?

Well, there are many people who seem to struggle with how to define themselves as home schoolers. They seem to agonize over whether they “fit” the definition of an eclectic home schooler, a school-at-homer, an unschooler or a radical unschooler. I’ve been known to try to fit myself into one of these categories a time or two, but it never seems quite right.

If there is any philosophy that fits me, I guess it would be to try to respect and love my children for who they are.

There is a part of me that would love to fully embrace radical unschooling, but I just don’t seem to be able to completely make that leap of faith, despite the fact that my whole family has benefited from unschooling.

I started thinking about all I’ve learned from unschooling in the past several years. The greatest gift unschooling has given me and my family is the “permission” to say “yes,” whenever there isn’t a necessary reason to say “no.” I think my parenting style had already evolved to be more easy-going before I ever encountered unschooling. But just giving myself the freedom to say “yes” opened up a whole new pantheon of joy and hopefulness. So much in our lives is dictated by social mores – by what we think we “should” and “shouldn’t” do. And often, at least for myself, I had never really questioned these arbitrary rules. “Why not?” became my first thought when my children wanted something – whether an activity, another story, to stay up late, etc. Sometimes there really was a good reason for a “no – or a not right now,” but this leads me to the next great lesson I’ve received from unschooling – the willingness to find ways to accommodate needs/desires even if not “right now.” I see this willingness to accommodate as part of respecting my children’s needs and wants and giving them equal importance to those of myself or my husband. By showing my children I believe in them and trust them to be the arbiter of their own needs and desires, I validate their worth as human beings and demonstrate the depth of my love for them

So, what’s the part I can’t quite embrace? I still struggle with the schoolwork aspect, though my youngest daughter, who has never been to school is the closest of all my children to live an unschooled life. If anyone will bring me around to radical unschooling, it will be this highly creative, verbally gifted, self-assured 11-year-old! She understands that I panic sometimes – especially about math – and has become more willing over the years to learn some things on my schedule. Though lately, rather than reassuring me, a creeping sense of discomfort invades my being when I try to “force” learning on her.

Much better are the times when she shows me her sheer delight in learning through daily living. Yesterday, she prepared an activity for a couple of unschooling friends. The three are working together on junior girl scout badges. I helped her find several different kinds of poetry and printed out the definitions. When I came back from picking up one of my other kids, Melissa presented me with four or five poems, each fitting one of the newly learned poetry categories. She wanted to do this, she did it on her own time, at her own instigation. She owned the joy she experienced from this accomplishment!

So, let’s just say, I’m coming around and I can honestly say I’ve seen the benefits of self-directed learning.

Good News on the Home Front

In an earlier post, I talked about why we moved into our economically-challenged neighborhood 1 1/2 years ago. The primary motivator was economic. Since moving from our admittedly gorgeous, but desperately expensive fixer-upper in a "high-end" part of town, to our relatively cheap, fixer-upper in a neglected, poor area of the city, we have been able to cut our consumer debt tremendously. Simply with the stroke of a pen upon signing the new mortgage, we erased more than $100,000 of debt and exorbitant utility bills (that could only be ameliorated with equally exorbitant home repairs).

We bought our "new" old house with special financing that granted us a forgivable loan, allowing us to replace the existing boiler that dated to the 1920s with a new, 94 percent efficient boiler. If we stay in the house 5 years, we won't owe a penny of the cost of purchase or installation of the boiler.

Our current house is still sizable - about 2300 square feet of finished space. We were able to remodel the kitchen area, opening it up to the rest of the house and saved money by installing a free-standing kitchen using furniture pieces instead of built-in cabinetry.

Our first winter here I discovered that I could keep the daytime temperature set at 68 degrees and be comfortable using a shawl downstairs and feeling downright toasty upstairs. Without checking, our highest winter utility bill (gas and electric) dropped from nearly $700 in the big old bank-buster house to under $400. Needless to say, we were thrilled.

This winter, I decided to try to keep the heat lower. Most days, we've kept the heat at 63 degrees for most of the day, only turning it up a degree, or at most two, by day's end. I find that I've adjusted to the colder temperatures and am uncomfortably hot in stores and homes set much higher than this. Granted, I always wear a shawl or have one nearby, and on the coldest days my daughter and I would snuggle up under a blanket to read. The upstairs has remained an oasis of warmth, so sometimes I will retreat up there if I'm going to be sitting for a long period of time - i.e. to crochet, read, etc. At night, we turn the temperature down to 60.

There have been a few times when I've really, really wanted to turn up the heat. I mean really wanted to! Usually, baking some muffins or quick bread or doing something more active, such as folding laundry, would warm me up enough to avoid the temptation.

As for electric usage, we've been more diligent about turning lights off, turned off the dehumidifier in the basement for the winter and have replaced more light bulbs with cfls, though we did add a second freezer last summer.

We just received our latest utility bill and the news is fabulous! During the month of February, we reduced our electric usage by 19 percent compared to the same time period last year. Our average cost per day for electricity dropped from $3.01 per day to $2.43 per day.

Our gas usage was even better. We reduced our gas usage 33 percent, with average cost per day dropping from $12.48 to $8.82.

WOW.
I mean really, WOW.

I plan to continue our efforts to live more economically and environmentally soundly and will chronicle our efforts - successes and failures - in posts to come.

A Good Egg

Egg decorating was a little s-l-o-w this year, but we ended up having a good time. While I was mixing up the filling for twice baked potatoes, the kids and Michael were dying and decorating at the table. Amidst the kitchen chaos from bread-baking, ham-preparing, asparagus steaming, etc., I could watch my family as they joked and cajoled with each other. At times like these I feel a surge of complete and total love for my husband and kids. I am so glad to be who I am and where I am right now!





This is Zach. He just turned 18. Usually his eggs turn out brown or gray.

















This is Stephen. He just turned 20.
He really was having a great time.
Really.
He was.

I swear.









Sarah's birthday isn't until April.
She's still 14.
Her eggs always turn out artsy-fartsy.











This is Melissa. She just turned 11.
Her eggs turned out great, despite a horrible cold.

When Holidays Collide

March has always been a crazy month in my house, with three birthdays barely a week apart. When the kids were little, I nearly went crazy with baking the special cupcakes for preschool, then elementary classes; three birthday cakes in a row, the "special" decorations chosen for each child, the gifts, the wrapping... the carefully balancing everything so no one's day was more special than someone else's...

But this year, despite the fact that my children are well-past the cupcakes-for-the-classroom and Scooby-Doo-napkins-age (the youngest just turned 11, is unschooled and did in fact have balloons and streamers for her special day), I not only have the March 13, 22 and 24 birthdays to prepare for, but Easter thrown smack dab in the middle of the last two.

Now, with my youngest newly 11 and my oldest turning 20, Easter celebrations aren't quite as extravagant as they used to be, i.e. I don't have to make a bunny shaped cake and everyone knows about the Easter bunny, so secrecy is less of an issue, I still want to make the holiday special for my family.

One "tradition" - my kids are BIG on traditions! - is scattering a trail of jelly beans from each child's bed down the stairs to the dining room table where the baskets of treats reside. I don't remember exactly when I started doing this, but, well, Easter just wouldn't be Easter without the trail of jelly bean bunny-poop. This year will be a little more difficult in that regard. First, my youngest has developed the tendency to stay up until 1 or 2 a.m., making poop-scattering a very late night activity for the Easter bunny. Also, I wonder what will happen when our 6-month-old kitten discovers all those wonderfully roly-poly beans on the floor...

We've also moved past the Hershey's kisses and other relatively cheap Easter candy into the realm of Organic Fair Trade chocolate bars and locally-crafted chocolates from Stam or The Chocolate StoryBook. Granted, it's my fault for introducing the kids to chocolate that is truly worth eating, but multiply chocolate bunnies, chocolate-covered espresso beans and truffles from Stam by four and you begin to see what a huge financial investment this holiday is for me. (And that's not counting their Dad and me, who this year are both trying to lose weight... our baskets will be considerably smaller and emptier!)

Yet another tradition is homemade cinnamon rolls for breakfast Easter morning. Need I say more? Right now I have Zachary's cheesecake in the oven for tomorrow, an Easter meal to prepare on Sunday, another cake to make on Monday... Of course, I can blame myself for the situation as much as the kids. One year, it may have been one of my "darker" years, I bought cinnamon rolls from a local bakery - YUCK! Even I didn't want to eat those. So, tomorrow, in the midst of playing one of Zachary's favorite 6-hour tortures (umm, I mean games), I'll need to whip up a batch of those rolls.

Let's see, what's left? Oh, we'll still decorate Easter eggs (I'll have to boil those up tomorrow as well). That's not such a big deal anymore, either, as the kids can mix the dyes and do the clean-up themselves. Oops, I just remembered that I forgot to pick up the vinegar for the egg dye - will have to run out for that tomorrow as well.

One thing that will be easier, and about which I find myself a little sad, is doing away with our traditional Easter egg hunt. Easter eve would typically find me stuffing seemingly thousands of plastic eggs with loose change, candy and stickers. DH would arise before the children, carefully side-stepping the aforementioned bunny poop, and take the bags of plastic eggs into the yard and hide them. In earlier times, this might require him to stumble out of bed as early as 6 a.m., in order to beat the rush.

We learned one year the importance of hunting for the eggs almost immediately when I noticed several squirrels in the backyard with plastic eggs between their paws. The squirrels were opening the eggs, unwrapping the Rolos within and eating them! Ever since, we hurried the kids away from their baskets after only a mouthful or two of candy and into their coats and boots (this is Iowa, you know...) and out the door to gather the eggs.

I will miss this part. I won't miss filling the eggs and I know DH won't miss hiding them. No, what I will miss is that my children are mostly young adults now and my vivid memories of the past are truly that - in the past.

So, tonight I'll wrap some gifts, prepare the special breakfast, special supper and other activities for Zachary. This is his last year at home before he leaves for college. I will make his 18th birthday special, as I have tried to do for every one of his 17 previous birthdays. We'll decorate eggs and eat cinnamon rolls on Easter. And on Monday, for Stephen's 20th birthday, I'll do all the special stuff again.

I'll treasure the new memories we'll make, relive moments of birthday's and Easter's past and savor these special things I do for my family, knowing all the while, that I'm also doing it all for me.