What happens while Worryin' the Beans

In visiting family in West Virginia one of my favorite things to do is to cook. Ok, I take that back, when visiting with anyone one of my favorite things is to cook, to learn to cook local foods. And I am very fortunate that my father-in-law is an excellent Southern cook and who is willing to teach me some of his cooking methods. I can now make some mean biscuits and ramps (if I could get my hands on some) and the ultimate southern food that comes into our homes, beans. Cooking beans goes something like this. Sort the beans. Rinse the beans. Poor the beans into a pot of water (I add black pepper at this time as I like the pepper to release the heat from the cooking). Boil the water and beans until the beans float. When the beans float turn off the heat. When the beans all sink again turn the beans onto a low simmer. Walk away and worry the beans. Go for a hike and worry the beans. Have lunch and worry the beans. Go looking for ramps and worry the beans. Are you worryin' the beans? What does that mean... while you're out hiking did you leave the heat on too high? Did you add enough water? Will they be done in time for dinner? Will they be over done and burnt? You have a lot to worry about while you're away and with proper worryin' the beans will come out just fine. Yesterday, I worried the beans all day--excecpt I didn't make beans. I'm worrying about one special person. My #1 son. There's so much to worry about: is he over tired? Why didn't he eat yesterday? How much homework are we doing? How much screen time is he getting? Is he sad and missing his poppa? Will he be too tired for swimming? Do I let him skip it or push him to go because we committed to it? How is school going? Does he have enough friends? Well, yesterday at least, I worried enough to enjoy a perfect pot of beans. I couldn't step away from my phone or email all day worryin' I'd get a message from school or my mom his care provider for the day. But I got home and the child was a smile from ear to ear. Not only did I get positive reports all afternoon (when I checked in) he had made it to swimming and his coach had invited him to join swim club! I could not be more excited for him. We're a swimming family--tubing during the summer whenever possible and getting as much lake time in as possible. And he's not exactly shown a tremendous amount of athleticism or interest in many areas. So to get an invitation to the swim club was one large spoonful of delicious well worried beans. Delicious parenting moment.

Judgment

A family of four skis in front of us. They are all wearing what look like new brightly colored Spyder jackets. The mother is thin, the father fine looking in his coordinating bright jacket-what does it take to have such a husband? The children attentive and well behaved-in the 30 seconds I could observe them.

A mother and her son and daughter sit at the sushi bat next to me. The 3-4 year old daughter is wearing a fluffy white vest and Ugg boots and she places a dazzling unicorn on the counter next to her. Her mother pulls out a note pad and set of markers for the daughter to occupy herself. The mother with her perfectly done hair and trim body is equally well dressed in the latest clothes down to her Ugg boots. The husband finally walks in to join them. Nice looking in his own way. He brushes his wife's shoulders and hair in a loving gesture as he takes his seat next to her.<\p>

I tally all their expenses. The cost of skiing and their outfits, the gym membership, the time to cultivate such a happy life. The clothes, the sushi-the sushi they've obviously eaten in the past because even their young children like it, the gym membership, the time to go, the happy family. I judge them. But what is the verdict? Wealthy? Snobbish? Phony?

In both cases I am next to them. We are also here on the ski hill; my son wears his new Marmot ski jacket and no rental skis. I'm also wearing a new Burton jacket, new helmet, all fashionable enough. (The skis and jackets were bought on a steep clearance, but that's not noticeable. At Tiger Sushi we are also here with plates of sushi in front of us-we've obviously eaten it before, with the vigor that my own son gobbles it up. No one can see the many times we've bought our own fish to make sushi more affordable for us. He's dressed well enough too, though all his clothes are either purchased used or on a steep clearance, maybe their's are too. And you also can't see that we are headed to a theater for a show that I did not buy used or clearance tickets to-quite the opposite. I paid dearly for those tickets, granted I found the best deal I could, not quite upper upper balcony but upper balcony. During the performance, more than once I wished to be closer to see their expressions, but I reminded myself that there's a time for that: later. It's also obvious if you're judging me that either I don't have the gym membership or the time. But what conclusion would you draw about me? Rich? Snobbish? Phony? But these are hand-me-down clothes or last year's clearance items. This is one night of splurging. i've had to save for a while to be able to do this all. Skiing was an expensive initial investment but after that it's pretty affordable.

Maybe my ski and sushi neighbors saved for their own events. Maybe their clothes are hand-me-downs too. Maybe this is the one splurge in their own budgets. Why must I be so quick to judge and why am I so afraid of be categorized as wealthy while also wanting to be wealthy? Because Wealth implies snobbish and/or phony? Why? Must it? What do other people see when they look at these families? What do they see when they look at me?<\p>

Small Hands

His hand still feels so small in mine. We walk through the museum together and my heart is so full with this not yet fully formed person. I still get to have days like this walking around the art museum with my little man. He pulls at me to look at an art display and the heart that I thought could get no larger grows so large it can barely fit in my chest. I’m not dragging him through the museum; he’s excitedly pulling me towards some Inuit artifacts. He says, “Read this one.” I could not be any more proud than I am in this moment. We drift from item to item, and I get to fill his little brain with the culture of the art and the purposes of each item. And he admires them in his little seven year old mind. We look at a beautiful and intricately carved jade mountain scene he asks, “What do you think happens when they make a mistake?” We talk about artists and carvings and time and patience and changing a mistake into an opportunity. Next he says, “If I could live any where in this museum I would live there, it looks so quiet.” We talk about the delicate features of the scene, and he points out the slight lines carved into the stone for the “water,” to make it look like it’s flowing. We float further into the museum, and I bring him to an extraordinarily carved sarcophagus. I begin to say, “This is a sarcophagus. A sarcophagus is a…” but he interrupts me to say, “I know what it is. After someone dies the coffin goes in there.” How does he know this? He turns to look at some more art, and we discuss the next case one piece at a time.

The part I came to see, the Chinese Warriors, he has a little less interest in. Perhaps it’s because I tried too hard. I rented the audio to go with it. It’s a lot of listening for him. When eventually I note the wasted money and give up on the audio and we float through this section just talking and admiring the pieces together he’s back with me. We take a moment to listen to a museum curator talk about the pieces. I ask a few questions, for one because I have questions but also to model asking questions of folks like this. It’s good to have questions, wait your turn to ask, be interested in the question, and appreciate the knowledge of others. I hope there’s a social behavior lesson in there. Then we step over to one of the warriors and I show him the artist’s signature and he says to me “it must have taken the artist a long to do all that work.” He gets it, I think! He was at the end of a long day and was losing steam, but we got in a lot of conversation about the Emperor of China and the amount of work it took to build this afterworld collection. We just got to talk and spend a few hours together his hand in mine, watching how he’s growing and taking in his world and soaking in all of the knowledge that’s around him. I’m so grateful for my education that I can explain things to him and that he asks questions.

Today, he came running out of his room excitedly spitting out, “Did you know that The Current is supported by that museum we went to?”

“The Minneapolis Institute of Arts,” I ask.

“Yes. And they were talking about those warriors we saw.” I think he felt that was so validating that he got to see something that they were talking about (in The Current’s 20 second sponsorship ad) on the radio. (Oh, and yes he listens to The Current in his room on his own… we’re sorry world we’re raising one of the world’s biggest Nerds (but we’re kinda proud too)).