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Jennifer Margulis

Mothering Outside the Lines

It’s Not Even Thanksgiving and I’m Already Worrying About Christmas

November 2nd, 2010

LeavesWe didn’t manage to clean the house before my father-in-law’s visit but on Sunday morning when the kids got up we did a big family clean-up.

“Everything needs to be neat and organized before you go trick-or-treating” is an amazing incentive. I’ve never seen such a scramble to do chores, such neatly made beds, or such a quick house makeover.

The room my three older kids share was a mess! I brought the vacuum into it and closed the door so I could sort through the piles of stuff on my now 7-year-old son’s desk in secret. I filled a bag with broken robot parts and plastic baubles and all sorts of junk that he likes to collect.

The bag went into the trash and the trash went into the can in the garage.

Landfill: I am sorry. Landfill: I know how overstuffed you are already. I know how bad you smell. I know you don’t need anymore trash to be added to you. Landfill: does it help to know that I can’t sleep at night? Landfill: Will you forgive me?

As I was vacuuming their room, I found some of last year’s Christmas presents untouched and unplayed with under my 9-year-old daughter’s bed. I noticed figurines collecting dust and toys she’s never once played with on my 11-year-old daughter’s shelves.

Last week on Mothering Outside the Lines we were talking about how living with less gives more joy but the truth is that our house is still filled with clutter and with too much stuff.

My name is Jennifer and I’m a stuff-a-holic.

So now you know why I have a hole in my stomach when I think about Christmas.

I’ve recently discovered SimpleMom, a super popular Website by a mom of three little ones named Tsh Oxenreider. Tsh has a post up today about redefining simple living, where she reminds readers that simple living looks different for every family and that it’s good to enjoy the things you love, and to emphasize quality over quantity.

AthenaRunning

We celebrate both Hanukkah and Christmas in our family but for each night of Hanukkah we exchange poetry, not gifts.

No matter how hard we try, Christmas often feels to me like a free-for-all of plastic packaging and toys made in Chinese sweatshops.

One Christmas my friend told her three children they were going to celebrate “Enough Day” and not exchange gifts. That idea did not go over very well with James, who remembers actually seeing Santa Claus in his house in the middle of the night when he was three years old, and who really loves Christmas.

Still, I want to find a way to have a simpler, more meaningful Christmas this year. Maybe that means we will give one quality gift to each child? Or exchange homemade presents? Or do community service as a family on Christmas Day?

Do you feel like your family has too much stuff or do you find yourself wanting to buy more? Do you have any suggestions for ways to make Christmas less materialistic and more manageable?

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[ 11 comments ]

Two Daughters Growing Up: Of Thumbs and … Other Things

February 22nd, 2010

On Friday nights we have Shabbat dinner together. We light candles and say blessings over the light, the wine, and the challah. We sing the blessings in Hebrew, which is the only way I feel comfortable doing it since I don’t believe in God.

We also play a game called Wooden Spoon. Whoever has the wooden spoon has the floor. First we share the best thing about our day, then the worst, then the silliest. Then we take turns saying one thing we are grateful for.

Baby Leone plays too.

This Friday James was holding her when it was her turn: “Best thing, my day, found something to suck on. It was yummy. Coming out of my hand.”

She was talking about her thumb, which she started sucking on while I was carrying her in the front pack facing outward on a long walk across town earlier in the day.

I’m a total believer in thumb sucking, though only one of my three older children ever sucked her thumb.

I like it because:

1) Your thumb can’t get lost
2) It’s a way for a child to find comfort
3) It satisfies the urge to suck
4) It’s not made of toxic plastic or any other foreign substance
5) It’s free

I know a lot of parents think thumb sucking is bad. My friend Michelle didn’t even like her son to suck on any part of his hand or fingers. I remember when he was four months old and we visited and every time he found his little fist, Michelle would bat his hand away from his mouth.

But I feel sort of sad about Leone sucking her thumb (though she hasn’t done it consistently since, so maybe I’m jumping the gun).

“She’s self-comforting,” James said, a little sadly.

“Already?” I added, a little sad too.

On Sunday Hesperus, Leone’s 10-year-old sister, had her first Body Basics class with a group of her 5th grade friends from school. Hesperus is growing up in so many ways, becoming longer and leaner and looking more like a young woman than a little girl.

I notice the changes, even though they are still so subtle, all the time now–when I smell her scalp as I kiss her goodnight on the top of her head, when she reads the Twilight books one after the other breathlessly and then decides she likes them so much she’s going to read them all again, when she talks about her friends (”My friends all have pierced ears, Mommy,” “my friends love to listen to iPods, Mommy”), when she sleeps as late as she can instead of bounding out of bed like the morning person she has always been.

I’m so proud of her but part of me just can’t bear it. I’M NOT READY FOR THEM TO GROW UP SO MUCH, I want to shout from the rooftop. CAN’T THEY SLOW DOWN?!

How do you feel about your children growing older? Do you have mixed feelings about it? Are you ready for them to leave for college? Do you wish they could just stay small? Please share your thoughts in the comment section below (if you want to weigh in on thumb sucking, I’d be interested in your opinion about that as well).

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[ 12 comments ]

The Third Night of Hanukkah: On Being an Atheist

December 15th, 2009

ChristmasWe always had a Christmas tree growing up but we would hang Hanukkah gelt from the branches and put a Jewish star at the top of the tree.

The star really offended one of my older brother’s best friends, a deeply religious practicing Catholic. He didn’t think Jews should have Christmas trees, and felt the Jewish star at the top was an insult to Christians.

My husband, who is from an Italian Catholic family, grew up deeply religious. James paid attention in church, he listened to the priests, and he worried about committing sins.

Even as a toddler, James was intrigued by the tenets of Catholicism.

My father-in-law still remembers his son’s enthusiasm after a sermon: “Jimmy loved that stuff. He’d say, ‘Yeah, and there was this guy, and he was dead! And then he came back to life! And he could turn stuff into other stuff!’”

James took the idea of turning the other cheek to heart. He would get into fights in grade school and try to remember you shouldn’t hurt people even if they hurt you first (though it usually didn’t work). He was puzzled by how the men in his family had fought in wars and were still Catholic. He felt it was important to help people, and was concerned that so many people needed help around the world.

But James stopped believing in God when he was 14 and he started reading Descartes, Nietzsche, and other philosophers. Descartes’ Meditations, though a defense of rational faith, convinced James that he had to doubt what he believed to be true, stop believing blindly, and rethink everything rationally for himself.

I never believed in God.

It’s something of a taboo in America to be an atheist.

According to a 2005 Gallup Poll, only five percent of Americans believe that God does not exist.

Although I feel dismayed when people do bad things or act hatefully in the name of religion, I feel a profound respect for people who do believe in God.

I wonder if my children, unlike me, will actually believe in God

I wonder if my children, unlike me, will actually believe in God

I envy other people’s faith, I know that having faith can help you in times of trouble and that it has health benefits. I wonder if my children, unlike James and me, will believe in God.

At the same time, I don’t think you need God or the Bible to be a good person, to care about others, to object to war, and to try to make a positive contribution to the world.

I also don’t think you need God to celebrate Jewish holidays, to feel a connection to your ancestors and your past, or to pass on family traditions to your children.

After Hanukkah, James is planning to take the kids into the mountains, traipse through the snow, and saw down a small conifer.

We’ll put the tree in our living room, Jewish star, Hanukkah gelt, and all.

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[ 12 comments ]

The Second Night of Hanukkah

December 14th, 2009

Celebrating the second night of Hanukkah

Celebrating the second night of Hanukkah

Hanukkah celebrates a miracle of light.

When the Greek King Antiochus told the Jews (and the Babylonians, Arabs, Persians, and others) they had to give up their different beliefs, different ways of worshipping, and different cultures, the Jews rebelled.

In 164, led by Judah of the Maccabees, the Jews defeated the Greek army, essentially preserving their right to practice a different religion.

But when they returned to their temple, they found it had been desecrated.

Instead of enough oil to last for eight nights of ceremonies, there was only one small flask of oil, enough to light the candelabra for one night.

Yet–behold!–the scant oil lasted for eight days and today we light candles in a menorah and feast on oily foods for eight days.

I talked about Hanukkah and read a book by Laura Krauss Melmed, Moishe’s Miracle: A Hanukkah Story, to my 6-year-old son Etani’s kindergarten class on Friday. The book is about a generous milkman and his sharp-tongued wife, who is as critical as she is stingy.

When Moishe’s cows reveal a magic pan that can provide the hungry townspeople with latkes, everything changes.

“There’s no such thing as magic,” one boy said, after I finished reading.

“Yes there is or the tooth fairy wouldn’t be tiny enough to fit under the door,” a little girl disagreed, pointing to the big gap between her teeth.

Five-week-old Leone was not interested in miracles or in the second night of Hanukkah. Though she slept on my back in an African-style back carrier while I vacuumed the house and grated potatoes, by the time our friends came over she was fussy.

She fussed through the candle lighting, the latke eating, the poetry reading (we exchange poems instead of gifts on Hanukkah), and dessert.

Nothing helped–not the sling, not sucking on an inverted pinky finger, not nursing, not being bounced, not being sung to, not having her diaper changed. Nothing.

After our friends left and my three older kids were in their pajamas and had brushed their teeth, we all crowded onto our bed to read. Finally the baby was ready to settle down.

Leone feeling fussy

Leone feeling fussy

“I wish Leone hadn’t been so fussy,” I sighed.

“It’s okay Mommy,” my 10-year-old daughter Hesperus said. “Babies are like that.”

Hesperus is one of the many reasons that I believe in miracles.

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[ 5 comments ]

The First Night of Hanukkah

December 11th, 2009
Lighting Hanukkah candles with the kids

Lighting Hanukkah candles with the kids

Tonight is Baby Leone’s first Hanukkah.

It’s also Shabbat.

Where I grew up–in Newton, Massachusetts–there are lots of Jewish families.

But even though my parents are both Jewish, we did not celebrate the Jewish holidays and we never lit Hanukkah candles.

Instead, my friend Becca Steinberg would invite me to her house.

6-year-old Hesperus lighting Hanukkah candles when we lived in Niger, West Africa

Then 6-year-old Hesperus lighting Hanukkah candles when we lived in Niger, West Africa


My parents are scientists and atheists and I think my mother had so many scars from her childhood that she did not want to raise her children the way she herself had been raised. Her father helped found Israel, peppered his speech with Yiddish, wrote a book called “Israel and Me,” and strongly identified as a Jew.

These days my mother is less Jewish than her Catholic companero, the man from Spain she has been seeing for more than twenty years. It’s only when Ricardo, who lives in Barcelona, calls her to wish her a happy Hanukkah or Pesach that my mother even realizes it’s a Jewish holiday.

My father, a Red Diaper baby, does not like organized religion and did not grow up with a Hanukkah tradition. For him, it was easier, perhaps, to buy a heap of presents and put them under a Christmas tree.

But I love lighting Hanukkah candles, eating latkes (which taste delicious for two or three days until you groan at the sight of a potato pancake and think you never want to eat anything fried in oil again), and playing Dreidel with the kids.

We don’t exchange gifts on Hanukkah. We exchange poetry.

After the candles are lit and our bellies are full, we spend time as a family reading poems from books like X. J. Kennedy and Jane Dyer’s Talking Like the Rain and The Complete Poems of Robert Frost.

Then 4-year-old Athena admires Hanukkah candles

Then 4-year-old Athena admires Hanukkah candles

My girls are memorizing a lot of poetry at the decidedly un-Jewish Waldorf school that they attend. Athena plans to recite this poem, “December,” by John Updike tonight:

First snow! The flakes,
So few, so light,
Remake the world
In solid white

All bundled up,
We feel as if
We were fat penguins,
Warm and stiff.

The toy-packed shops
Half split their sides,
And Mother brings home
Things she hides.

Old carols peal.
The dusk is dense.
There is a mood
Of sweet suspense.

The shepherds wait,
The kings, the tree -
All wait for something
Yet to be,

Some miracle.
And then it’s here,
Wrapped up in hope -
Another year!

I hope our children will have good childhood memories of this holiday and want to share the candle lighting, latke eating, and poetry reading with their children.

Happy Hanukkah!

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[ 5 comments ]

Beware of The Pregnant Jail Breaker

November 1st, 2009

PregnantConvictBellyAbout 15 minutes before the Halloween parade, we still didn’t have our costumes ready. Since my due date (more on how that’s a misnomer in a later post) was BEFORE Halloween, I wasn’t expecting to even be in the parade this year, let alone in a costume.

James had the idea that we should paint my belly into a big yellow Pac Man and put dots all over black clothes but 1) we didn’t have any yellow face paint and 2) we were out of time.

So I went in my friend Anjie’s escaped convict costume instead.

“I don’t like it,” my 10-year-old daughter Hesperus complained. “It makes me feel bad for people in jail.”

One of my good friends (the former editor of our local newspaper) is actually serving jail time right now. When I write to him I have to include his prisoner serial number on the envelope. So I know what Hesperus means. At least she was happy with her costume: a shooting yellow star that she and James spent all morning making.

The four of us rushed down to the parade, leaving James creating a Pac Man head for himself out of leftover yellow cardboard.

I didn’t have a lot of family practices growing up (family was never a priority, my parents both worked full-time, and they ended their rocky relationship when I was still in elementary school) but we always made our own Halloween costumes, however rudimentary or silly, and this is tradition I’ve passed down to my children.

“Happy Halloween!” I called as we walked to the parade.

“Don’t say that,” 8-year-old Athena chided. “It’s embarrassing.”

“GIVE ME ALL YOUR MONEY, I JUST BROKE OUT OF JAIL AND I NEED SOME DOUGH!” I snarled at the next people we passed.

“That’s a little better,” 6-year-old Etani said, urging me to walk faster.

KidsinHalloweenCostumesEtani was a scary ghost (think pillow case with eye holes). Athena a witch (think Hesperus’s costume hemmed from last year). Next year we’ll plan the costumes a little more in advance. Despite being rather miserable that this baby is not showing any signs of coming out into the world, Halloween will always be one of my favorite holidays. After all, it gives you the chance to be someone you aren’t in real life. HANDS UP AND GIVE ME YOUR WALLET.

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[ 6 comments ]






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