Although we are constantly bombarded with information on nutrition, new studies on how food makes a real difference in your health, and countless books on diet and the chemistry of food, I find it striking how little emphasized is the effect of what you eat on your pregnancy among health care authorities. "You're not really eating for two," they say. "All you need is 300 extra calories a day." In a country in which 60% of the population is not only overweight, but OBESE, this advice seems to make sense.
Except to my midwife.
"You haven't gained enough," she said at my last visit. I tipped the scale at 177 pounds, 17 pounds over my ideal ("skinny pants") weight. "Even if you have a seven pound baby," she went on, "you've got two pounds of placenta, three pounds of extra fluids, at least five pounds of fat for nursing, and with the extra blood volume--you've got to put on 26 pounds, minimum." Geez, I thought. Just when I can't fit anything else in my stomach. I said as much. "You need more calories and fat. Why don't you just go out and have a Whopper?" she said. "Most women would be glad to hear that." Then she recommended Haagen-Daz ice cream.
Now, I love my midwife, she's an incredible lady--I wouldn't trust my births to somebody who didn't exude competence. But I don't think she understands how against the grain her advice goes. I mean, it's one thing to add extra protein, fiber, and supplements to your diet when you're pregnant, but it's nearly impossible to add fat. Your stomach just isn't big enough and doesn't empty fast enough. I call this phenomenon the "pregnant lady gastric bypass," which is caused by having your stomach squished into the size of a bonbon by a squirming basketball-sized future quarterback (as this baby is turning out to be). If I ate a Whopper, I not only would be unable to eat any vegetables or fiber, but the fat would sit in my stomach for the next six hours. Ditto for danishes or Haagen-Daz. My only choice would be to give up all pretense of eating "healthfully," and to smack down regular doses of cream-cheese slathered Otis Spunkmeyer muffins--which just sounds disgusting.
The other problem with her advice is the cost. A fast-food burger is three dollars. So is a pint of Haagen-Daz. Danishes, which I keep mentioning because I actually have a craving for them, cost at least five dollars for a package of six to eight. When you consider that I buy my bread six loaves at a time for 33 cents a loaf, and make all my other baked goods from scratch, you can see how hard the tightwad mentality is on high-calorie foods. The exceptions are dairy products, which pretty much cost the same no matter if they're skim or whole. So I promised to buy the whole dairy products and eat them. The dilemma is amusing to my husband, who wouldn't miss a few pounds if he mislaid them. "Get thee to a Burgerville, woman. That's an order," he said. "Think of it as medicine for the baby." He had a point. I remarked on the irony that I'm willing to spend $37.00 on a bottle of fancy vitamins for my pregnancy, so why should I balk at a few extra dollars in my grocery cart?
It all comes down to habit. Once you've made the effort to change your diet, and once you've made the effort to switch to a money-saving mindset, you don't want to go back and undo all that work. You don't want to risk backsliding into old patterns. A solution might be on the horizon, however. I explained my dilemma to my neighbor. "Why don't you eat those Marie Callendar's meals?" she said. "We have a pregnant lady at work and she eats them. They have, like, 600 calories, and 400 of those are fat." Ah, I thought. This might work. Convenience foods do go on sale fairly regularly, and at least in a whole meal I would be getting vegetables and protein. TV dinner portions are always smaller, plus--I would not have to cook!
(I did buy the danishes, though.)
Monday, October 31, 2005
Sunday, October 23, 2005
Physical Fitness and the Stay-at-Home Mom
I've run into enough trim, fit, and trendy SAHMs to make me doubt the old canard that says if a woman stays at home long enough she'll "let herself go" and lose her looks. But you occasionally spot a woman who looks as if she hasn't left the house since 1986 and has cases of Ho-ho's delivered to her back door. Then the trim, fit, and trendy working mom thinks, "Horrors! It's a good thing I kept working and haven't lost my looks." Now don't go all politically correct on me. If you're the Ho-ho mom, rest assured that I don't believe looks equal reality. The fact is that we have all been given different gifts, some native, some acquired. Some people just don't really care about dressing up for the benefit of others. Some are hyper-self-conscious and are constantly "done" to the nines--hair, nails, etc. But it doesn't necessarily follow that being a SAHM means inevitable weight gain.
Whether a woman is more likely to gain weight if she stays at home is dependent on several factors. Since scientists and nutritionists disagree on what exactly causes obesity, I can hardly mount an analysis here. Surely there exist working women who gain weight because, stressed and strapped for time, they end up overeating or overconsuming convenience foods without the benefit of extra activity, just as there are SAHMs who lose weight because they finally have the time to exercise and cook nutritious meals. I will exclude for the moment those with a disorder, such as hypothyroid, that causes them to gain weight no matter what they do, and assume that a woman has some control over her rate of consumption and energy expenditure. For my qualifications to discuss this topic, I'll cite my years of being a food service specialist in the military (which included stocking up for patrols, making menus, and nutrition training), my experiences with compulsive eating, and my ability to lose the extra weight I had and maintain an ideal weight for five years and counting (and if I did seek extra training to go back to work, being a nutritionist has seemed the most attractive career to me).
First, forget the quick-fix diet. What constitutes a nutritious diet has varied through the decades, but what it has always included is some proportion of protein, carbohydrates, fruits, vegetables, dairy products, and fats. Now, people love to dicker about what exactly constitutes an ideal proportion of each group (I'm not even going to get into the debate over Atkins, for example). Let me just say that the preponderance of evidence points to a more varied diet as the healthful ideal--so forget about surviving on popcorn only, or meat only, or bananas only, or whatever fad diet is currently in vogue. You will simply become malnourished and then be tempted to overeat something that is not healthful. If you believe that carbs should be limited, great, just so long as you still have some of everything in the diet. You can also be a vegetarian and still get enough protein. Just don't try to live on melon shakes, think you're going to lose weight, and then get bummed when you don't. Conversely, don't stock up the freezer with Oreo ice cream and then wonder why it looks so tempting when the baby's napping. It's simply harder to overeat when you are being nourished from so many food groups.
Second, change your goal from "losing weight" to "nourishing yourself." Linguistically, saying you're going to "lose weight" backfires because we have a mental block against "losing" anything. Losing your keys and losing your mind are always bad because they are expressed negatively. So don't sabotage yourself mentally. Tell yourself that you are the family nutritionist, and it is your job to stock the pantry carefully to make sure everyone gets the nutrients they need. Let moderation and variety be your watchwords, as well as thrift, when you go shopping (it's easier when you go by yourself, as long as you can fight the Oreo ice cream temptation). Use common sense. Being a tightwad naturally lends itself to more healthful cooking, since you are forgoing the expensive (and fatty) cuts of meat and almost all the calorie-rich and nutrient-poor convenience foods. If you can't cook, learn. I did. It's hard to get fat on your own cooking--just too much darn work (those brownies aren't that attractive if I have to make them myself).
Third, keep a record. If you are actively trying to shed pounds, keep a food diary. This is effective if you are honest about it, but it requires accountability as well. Make a chart with the days of the week and record everything you eat, along with the relevant calorie/fat gram/protein gram notation if you're tracking that. You might have a goal, such as 1500 calories a day, if you're a calorie counter, or so many fat grams a day. You'll want to tally up at the end of the day and see how you did. Note how many servings of each food group there are. Also note exercise you got that day, or vitamins and supplements you took. The accountability part is important, since you're not likely to stay faithful unless someone is looking over your shoulder and is as enthusiastic about your goals as you are (husbands or mothers are not good choices). Just as with money, it's hard to get started when you're scared you'll fail. Tracking your food intake is more informative than weighing yourself every day, and more objective than trying on the same (tight) pair of pants.
Just as it pays to know your spending pitfalls, it pays to know what sets off your urge to merge with the refrigerator. I know that if I have ice cream in the freezer, I will eat a serving a day, until it is gone, period. Ditto for cookies and homemade goodies. If you know that boredom or emotional issues set you off, leave these items out of your pantry. Allow yourself only one item as a treat--something that helps satisfy part of your craving but that also delivers nutrients, so you're not setting yourself up for double and triple servings. My personal "treat" is hot chocolate made with milk (winter) or frozen chocolate milk "shakes" (for summer). Realize that dieting pitfalls include more than just food. Physical fitness includes a lot of things. Are you getting enough sleep? Are you stressing out about something, like money or marriage problems, or kid problems, that is keeping you up at night and driving you to emotional distraction during the day? Is your routine disorganized? Look your life over before you set out to achieve this goal and tackle as many of the things that bug you as you can.
What about exercise? If you're like my husband, you pity the poor joggers out on the street because you think they're in unbearable pain. If jogging isn't your thing, find something you can do three to five times a week that isn't too expensive and doesn't take too much time. Walking is ideal. In fact, when you're towing (or carrying) small kids, it's practically your only option. I like it because I don't have to wear special clothes, I don't have to warm up or cool down, I don't have to drive anywhere, and I don't need any special equipment. If your goal is substantial, say 50 pounds or more, you might need to supplement the walking with more intense activity (you should also get some bloodwork done, just to see the change in your lipids). Balance the activity with your intake. If you really don't want to or can't exercise as much as you think you should, do what you can--consistently!--and cut back on the carbs instead. Realize it's going to take time. But the longer it takes, the better. You will be solidifying healthy new habits and by the time you reach your goal, you won't feel deprived or tempted to snap back into your old routine.
So just how did I conquer compulsive eating? A couple of serendipitous changes, and a willingness to force myself to do a couple of things. First, I couldn't stop compulsive eating until I stopped working in a kitchen (galley). There was just too much food around, and I was too tired and stressed to avoid grazing all day, eating double dinners, and then hitting my rack at night (they really overworked us). The second change was a short break, almost a vacation. I got to do some training on another base, and for three weeks, I could do pretty much what I wanted in the food/exercise department. I ate smaller meals and started jogging after dinner. It felt better to do that, and I looked better. I bought smaller pants, and people made comments. Third, back on the ship (motivated by my new pants), I forced myself to get up at 5:15 am and go down to the cargo hold and hit the Stairmaster before work. In order to make this a habit I had to do it every day. No exceptions, except on weekends I'd jog down the waterfront and back for variety. Fourth, I ate smaller meals more often during the day. This made my stomach smaller and willing to accept less. I also looked and felt less bloated. If that sounds daunting, I agree. I don't think I would have kicked it so quickly had I not been shoehorned into the rigid routine of the military. I hadn't solved my emotional issues, but looking better eventually led to feeling better.
(As an epilogue, I'd like to add that my attitude towards food has totally changed since I started having babies. My midwife was the one who insisted on my keeping a food diary, and she lent me a book about nutrition during pregnancy and how much it affects the baby. She also lectures me and examines my food charts, since nutrition plays a large part in having a healthy pregnancy, an easier, natural birth, and a vigorous baby. I'm a believer, but I long for the time when I can eventually stop stuffing myself with all this protein and supplements. Then it will be a relief to not have to eat so much!)
Whether a woman is more likely to gain weight if she stays at home is dependent on several factors. Since scientists and nutritionists disagree on what exactly causes obesity, I can hardly mount an analysis here. Surely there exist working women who gain weight because, stressed and strapped for time, they end up overeating or overconsuming convenience foods without the benefit of extra activity, just as there are SAHMs who lose weight because they finally have the time to exercise and cook nutritious meals. I will exclude for the moment those with a disorder, such as hypothyroid, that causes them to gain weight no matter what they do, and assume that a woman has some control over her rate of consumption and energy expenditure. For my qualifications to discuss this topic, I'll cite my years of being a food service specialist in the military (which included stocking up for patrols, making menus, and nutrition training), my experiences with compulsive eating, and my ability to lose the extra weight I had and maintain an ideal weight for five years and counting (and if I did seek extra training to go back to work, being a nutritionist has seemed the most attractive career to me).
First, forget the quick-fix diet. What constitutes a nutritious diet has varied through the decades, but what it has always included is some proportion of protein, carbohydrates, fruits, vegetables, dairy products, and fats. Now, people love to dicker about what exactly constitutes an ideal proportion of each group (I'm not even going to get into the debate over Atkins, for example). Let me just say that the preponderance of evidence points to a more varied diet as the healthful ideal--so forget about surviving on popcorn only, or meat only, or bananas only, or whatever fad diet is currently in vogue. You will simply become malnourished and then be tempted to overeat something that is not healthful. If you believe that carbs should be limited, great, just so long as you still have some of everything in the diet. You can also be a vegetarian and still get enough protein. Just don't try to live on melon shakes, think you're going to lose weight, and then get bummed when you don't. Conversely, don't stock up the freezer with Oreo ice cream and then wonder why it looks so tempting when the baby's napping. It's simply harder to overeat when you are being nourished from so many food groups.
Second, change your goal from "losing weight" to "nourishing yourself." Linguistically, saying you're going to "lose weight" backfires because we have a mental block against "losing" anything. Losing your keys and losing your mind are always bad because they are expressed negatively. So don't sabotage yourself mentally. Tell yourself that you are the family nutritionist, and it is your job to stock the pantry carefully to make sure everyone gets the nutrients they need. Let moderation and variety be your watchwords, as well as thrift, when you go shopping (it's easier when you go by yourself, as long as you can fight the Oreo ice cream temptation). Use common sense. Being a tightwad naturally lends itself to more healthful cooking, since you are forgoing the expensive (and fatty) cuts of meat and almost all the calorie-rich and nutrient-poor convenience foods. If you can't cook, learn. I did. It's hard to get fat on your own cooking--just too much darn work (those brownies aren't that attractive if I have to make them myself).
Third, keep a record. If you are actively trying to shed pounds, keep a food diary. This is effective if you are honest about it, but it requires accountability as well. Make a chart with the days of the week and record everything you eat, along with the relevant calorie/fat gram/protein gram notation if you're tracking that. You might have a goal, such as 1500 calories a day, if you're a calorie counter, or so many fat grams a day. You'll want to tally up at the end of the day and see how you did. Note how many servings of each food group there are. Also note exercise you got that day, or vitamins and supplements you took. The accountability part is important, since you're not likely to stay faithful unless someone is looking over your shoulder and is as enthusiastic about your goals as you are (husbands or mothers are not good choices). Just as with money, it's hard to get started when you're scared you'll fail. Tracking your food intake is more informative than weighing yourself every day, and more objective than trying on the same (tight) pair of pants.
Just as it pays to know your spending pitfalls, it pays to know what sets off your urge to merge with the refrigerator. I know that if I have ice cream in the freezer, I will eat a serving a day, until it is gone, period. Ditto for cookies and homemade goodies. If you know that boredom or emotional issues set you off, leave these items out of your pantry. Allow yourself only one item as a treat--something that helps satisfy part of your craving but that also delivers nutrients, so you're not setting yourself up for double and triple servings. My personal "treat" is hot chocolate made with milk (winter) or frozen chocolate milk "shakes" (for summer). Realize that dieting pitfalls include more than just food. Physical fitness includes a lot of things. Are you getting enough sleep? Are you stressing out about something, like money or marriage problems, or kid problems, that is keeping you up at night and driving you to emotional distraction during the day? Is your routine disorganized? Look your life over before you set out to achieve this goal and tackle as many of the things that bug you as you can.
What about exercise? If you're like my husband, you pity the poor joggers out on the street because you think they're in unbearable pain. If jogging isn't your thing, find something you can do three to five times a week that isn't too expensive and doesn't take too much time. Walking is ideal. In fact, when you're towing (or carrying) small kids, it's practically your only option. I like it because I don't have to wear special clothes, I don't have to warm up or cool down, I don't have to drive anywhere, and I don't need any special equipment. If your goal is substantial, say 50 pounds or more, you might need to supplement the walking with more intense activity (you should also get some bloodwork done, just to see the change in your lipids). Balance the activity with your intake. If you really don't want to or can't exercise as much as you think you should, do what you can--consistently!--and cut back on the carbs instead. Realize it's going to take time. But the longer it takes, the better. You will be solidifying healthy new habits and by the time you reach your goal, you won't feel deprived or tempted to snap back into your old routine.
So just how did I conquer compulsive eating? A couple of serendipitous changes, and a willingness to force myself to do a couple of things. First, I couldn't stop compulsive eating until I stopped working in a kitchen (galley). There was just too much food around, and I was too tired and stressed to avoid grazing all day, eating double dinners, and then hitting my rack at night (they really overworked us). The second change was a short break, almost a vacation. I got to do some training on another base, and for three weeks, I could do pretty much what I wanted in the food/exercise department. I ate smaller meals and started jogging after dinner. It felt better to do that, and I looked better. I bought smaller pants, and people made comments. Third, back on the ship (motivated by my new pants), I forced myself to get up at 5:15 am and go down to the cargo hold and hit the Stairmaster before work. In order to make this a habit I had to do it every day. No exceptions, except on weekends I'd jog down the waterfront and back for variety. Fourth, I ate smaller meals more often during the day. This made my stomach smaller and willing to accept less. I also looked and felt less bloated. If that sounds daunting, I agree. I don't think I would have kicked it so quickly had I not been shoehorned into the rigid routine of the military. I hadn't solved my emotional issues, but looking better eventually led to feeling better.
(As an epilogue, I'd like to add that my attitude towards food has totally changed since I started having babies. My midwife was the one who insisted on my keeping a food diary, and she lent me a book about nutrition during pregnancy and how much it affects the baby. She also lectures me and examines my food charts, since nutrition plays a large part in having a healthy pregnancy, an easier, natural birth, and a vigorous baby. I'm a believer, but I long for the time when I can eventually stop stuffing myself with all this protein and supplements. Then it will be a relief to not have to eat so much!)
Friday, October 21, 2005
My Costco Quandary
I used to listen to a musical group called Enigma, and on one of their tracks, they had this line spoken over the music: "The path of excess leads to the tower of wisdom." Though at the time this sounded deep and mystical to me, later I realized that the statement really makes no sense and is no more than a piece of New Age fluff. Why? Because, more so than any other nation on earth, we Americans are firmly fitted into the ruts of the path of excess, and it has hardly taught us wisdom. It's not leading us to the tower of wisdom--in fact it doesn't seem to be leading us anywhere at all. Similarly, at times in my life when I just knew I was overdoing it--too much food, too much sex, too much alcohol--I felt so out of control that I thought the only way out was death. And although we do have people in our culture who think death and the tower of wisdom are equivalent, we usually refer to them as psychopaths.
Why all this fuss over a trip to Costco?
I used to think going to Costco was fun. "Let's just go and window-shop," I said to my husband. "They have all their Christmas stuff out--it'll be fun." Despite the fact that this was a dangerous thing for a tightwad to say to her hubby (who tempts her to loosen her habitual spending controls), I wanted to put my inner consumer to the test. For a year I had been playing a mental game with myself. I would think about something I wanted--or thought I wanted--and then imagine going to the store, picking up the item, going to the check-out to pay for it, loading it in the car, driving it home, taking off the wrapping and throwing it away, and finding a place to either use/display or store my new acquisition. Throughout this exercise I would try to calculate how much value this item would bring to our lives, how much money it would cost, whether it would continue costing money and/or deliver additional value, and how much satisfaction I would derive from the purchase. Finally, I would imagine the money being deducted from our checking account, and then I would compare that feeling with how I would feel imagining that same money deposited in our savings account. Not many items passed this test.
But suddenly there we were in Costco. I remembered the words of an old boyfriend who called Costco the "Land O' Plenty." He certainly seemed right. I mean, there were heaps and stacks of things. All the boxes and packages were humungous. Even the cart was so large there was enough room for two children to sit in it, side by side. Some items seemed like a good deal. Dean was fingering a heavy winter jacket. "It's only forty bucks," he said. I thought about the seven or eight other jackets and coats he had at home and drove on. There was an enormous Christmas wreath and "outdoor ornaments" that were bigger than Carl's head. There were fancy wrapped packages of chocolates weighing anywhere from one to five pounds. There were huge bags of biscottis, and giant tins of butter cookies. And there were toys. They all came in oversized boxes, packaged to thrill. There were fancy trikes and art sets and a giant dollhouse, even a "travel system" stroller and highchair that was exactly like you would buy for a new baby, only it was for a doll. There were big canisters of Tinker Toys and Lincoln Logs for the nostalgic. I felt like a Dickensian child who had accidentally wandered into Harrod's from the street.
As I struggled to maneuver the huge cart down the aisles without hitting other people, I spotted some scrapbooking supplies and stopped to look. The package had 24 pairs of scissors in it, each designed to put a different sort of edge on a piece of paper. The whole package was $19.99. Suddenly the display didn't seem so benign. Who could possibly use 24 pairs of scrapbooking scissors? Who could possibly want that many? Why would they package up 24 different pairs like that? They were only scissors! The most any reasonable person could want would be maybe three or four. Befuddled, I stopped and pointed this out to Dean. "Suppose you ran a craft workshop, or were a teacher," he said. "Oh," I said. Right next to it was a similarly priced set of 100 marker pens. Suddenly, I felt overwhelmed and tired. "Let's just go to the bakery section," I said. I wanted some of the apple streusel bread that in my imagination had seemed so good. Other than a reasonably-priced baby sleeper for Carl, and some Christmas chocolates, our cart was empty. But when we got to the bread, I saw the price was $4.29. I knew I could get flour for seventeen cents a pound and bake something similar for under a dollar. We passed it by.
I had a list of things I'd been waiting for months to get at Costco because I'd determined they would have the best price, but I just kept driving the cart. I didn't want to put anything in it. "Let's just go," Dean said. We didn't even eat any of the samples. Carl was sucking his thumb, looking sleepy and tired. On the ride home I felt shifty and weird. "There's something wrong with that," I kept saying, but couldn't put my finger on what it was. After clipping grocery store coupons for a year and replacing my eggs with soy flour I had, somewhere along the line, lost my taste for richness. I had come to appreciate the leanness of mixed, powdered milk in my coffee. I had come to the point where I scanned the curbs while driving for interesting-looking piles of junk. I had learned the joy of rooting through the dollar bin at Goodwill and pulling out name-brand clothes. It wasn't so much that Costco was "wrong," or that people are wrong to shop there. It was simply that Costco tells you what the world tells you--that life is easy, comfortable, even luxurious, and that you deserve to have all these things in your life at a price you can "afford"--and I had just gotten to the point where I no longer believed it.
Why all this fuss over a trip to Costco?
I used to think going to Costco was fun. "Let's just go and window-shop," I said to my husband. "They have all their Christmas stuff out--it'll be fun." Despite the fact that this was a dangerous thing for a tightwad to say to her hubby (who tempts her to loosen her habitual spending controls), I wanted to put my inner consumer to the test. For a year I had been playing a mental game with myself. I would think about something I wanted--or thought I wanted--and then imagine going to the store, picking up the item, going to the check-out to pay for it, loading it in the car, driving it home, taking off the wrapping and throwing it away, and finding a place to either use/display or store my new acquisition. Throughout this exercise I would try to calculate how much value this item would bring to our lives, how much money it would cost, whether it would continue costing money and/or deliver additional value, and how much satisfaction I would derive from the purchase. Finally, I would imagine the money being deducted from our checking account, and then I would compare that feeling with how I would feel imagining that same money deposited in our savings account. Not many items passed this test.
But suddenly there we were in Costco. I remembered the words of an old boyfriend who called Costco the "Land O' Plenty." He certainly seemed right. I mean, there were heaps and stacks of things. All the boxes and packages were humungous. Even the cart was so large there was enough room for two children to sit in it, side by side. Some items seemed like a good deal. Dean was fingering a heavy winter jacket. "It's only forty bucks," he said. I thought about the seven or eight other jackets and coats he had at home and drove on. There was an enormous Christmas wreath and "outdoor ornaments" that were bigger than Carl's head. There were fancy wrapped packages of chocolates weighing anywhere from one to five pounds. There were huge bags of biscottis, and giant tins of butter cookies. And there were toys. They all came in oversized boxes, packaged to thrill. There were fancy trikes and art sets and a giant dollhouse, even a "travel system" stroller and highchair that was exactly like you would buy for a new baby, only it was for a doll. There were big canisters of Tinker Toys and Lincoln Logs for the nostalgic. I felt like a Dickensian child who had accidentally wandered into Harrod's from the street.
As I struggled to maneuver the huge cart down the aisles without hitting other people, I spotted some scrapbooking supplies and stopped to look. The package had 24 pairs of scissors in it, each designed to put a different sort of edge on a piece of paper. The whole package was $19.99. Suddenly the display didn't seem so benign. Who could possibly use 24 pairs of scrapbooking scissors? Who could possibly want that many? Why would they package up 24 different pairs like that? They were only scissors! The most any reasonable person could want would be maybe three or four. Befuddled, I stopped and pointed this out to Dean. "Suppose you ran a craft workshop, or were a teacher," he said. "Oh," I said. Right next to it was a similarly priced set of 100 marker pens. Suddenly, I felt overwhelmed and tired. "Let's just go to the bakery section," I said. I wanted some of the apple streusel bread that in my imagination had seemed so good. Other than a reasonably-priced baby sleeper for Carl, and some Christmas chocolates, our cart was empty. But when we got to the bread, I saw the price was $4.29. I knew I could get flour for seventeen cents a pound and bake something similar for under a dollar. We passed it by.
I had a list of things I'd been waiting for months to get at Costco because I'd determined they would have the best price, but I just kept driving the cart. I didn't want to put anything in it. "Let's just go," Dean said. We didn't even eat any of the samples. Carl was sucking his thumb, looking sleepy and tired. On the ride home I felt shifty and weird. "There's something wrong with that," I kept saying, but couldn't put my finger on what it was. After clipping grocery store coupons for a year and replacing my eggs with soy flour I had, somewhere along the line, lost my taste for richness. I had come to appreciate the leanness of mixed, powdered milk in my coffee. I had come to the point where I scanned the curbs while driving for interesting-looking piles of junk. I had learned the joy of rooting through the dollar bin at Goodwill and pulling out name-brand clothes. It wasn't so much that Costco was "wrong," or that people are wrong to shop there. It was simply that Costco tells you what the world tells you--that life is easy, comfortable, even luxurious, and that you deserve to have all these things in your life at a price you can "afford"--and I had just gotten to the point where I no longer believed it.
Saturday, October 15, 2005
The Church of Ma-ma and Pa-pa
I've been meaning to get back to blogging for the past couple of weeks, but as ideas came to me for articles, they all seemed "too religious." I mean, what's happening to my Stay-at-Home-Mom angle? I meant to do a lot of articles about finances, and how SAHMs can save money, thus enabling them to stay at home. However, in explaining why a mother should consider staying at home, and to give up some things and change her buying habits for the sake of her children, I inevitably run up against the concepts of self-sacrifice, suffering, and serving others, all uncompromisingly Christian values. The fact is, I cannot make a convincing case to the secular mom on why she should stay home, when the world's values tell her that her fulfillment is paramount and that children are not that important--more like a proprietary appendage--to be stashed away in public schools as quickly as possible for as long as possible. Therefore, if one pays heed to the prevailing wisdom of our culture, the question of being a stay-at-home-mom may well never arise.
That leaves me in the position of having the freedom to write about the housewife/ stay-at-home-mom experience from the religious perspective, if in fact we angle the newsletter that way. I think this will be possible, although unsatisfyingly generic, since in aiming for an even narrower "faith-minded" audience, one is forced to make allowances for practically every shade of Christian, which many readers who are passionately committed to certain doctrines or interpretations of Scripture might find hollow. There would seem to be no middle ground that would satisfy everyone.
What does all this have to do with the Church of Ma-ma and Pa-pa? With the utmost respect to my departed grandparents, for whom I pray and sacrifice daily, I have to explain this family phenomenon. Apparently, when my mom and dad got together back in the 70's (presumably, after my dad told my mom that he would never marry a Catholic), my mom decided after long talks with her in-laws that their version of faith suited her. She became attracted to the Billy Graham revival movement, and even attended one of his crusades. She got my dad to set foot in a church, and even taught Sunday School for a time.
Fast-forward ten years. Mom divorced Dad, and although he retained custody of my sister and I, we lived with Ma-ma and Pa-pa while Dad attended nursing school. We went to an "Orthodox Presbyterian" church and the youth activities there. It was a happy time, and every night before bed Ma-ma would always come in and pray with us and we'd recite our Bible verses, most especially John 3:16. I don't know what exactly they believed, but for us it was a child's faith, a comforting faith, uncomplicated by doctrines and questions of exegesis and authority. We knew Jesus loved us and died for us and that we believed in Him, so we would go to heaven.
Fast-forward twenty years. Today Ma-ma and Pa-pa are gone, and although what I remember of their faith didn't get me too far in life, my sister clings passionately to what she remembers. My mother claims this as well, and has told me that "Whatever Billy Graham believes, that's what I believe." My dad, as well, while rejecting a faith that requires church-going, parrots verses and lines of argument that he no doubt learned in his youth. This is what I call "generic Christianity." It's a comfortable, "Jesus-and-me" religion that seems translatable to adult life straight from Sunday school, and it often serves as a middle ground for adults trying to reconcile differing denominations, creeds, and confessions.
There are a number of problems with this kind of Christianity, as you might expect. Without the regular reading and study of Scripture, one quickly loses one's moorings, relying on Ma-ma's or Billy Graham's interpretation of some half-remembered Bible verses and glossing over the rest. For example, my dad takes Paul's verse about preaching only "Christ, and Him crucified," to mean that we are not to concern ourselves over anything else the Bible might have to say. My sister has attended Seventh-Day Adventist churches without a clear idea of what they believe, not that it matters. As she told my mother, "Just because I go to a church doesn't mean I believe everything they believe." And for my mother, finally, the rejection of any organized church and the absence of any Scripture study at all leads to the uncritical acceptance of reincarnation, gay marriage, liberal politics in general and condemnations of the Catholic Church in particular.
As I turned from the "Bible church" I was attending, hoping to find some version of Christianity I could accept without doubt, I briefly considered the Church of Ma-ma and Pa-pa, but immediately rejected it. Why? Well, there was a reason I was looking for a church to attend in the first place. I knew Scripture clearly called us to worship in community AND to serve others. If you go long enough, you can lose sight of the fact that the whole point of Christ's sacrifice was not to make people unaccountable for their sins. Christ's sacrifice was not a get-out-of-jail-free card for sinners. But that is the logical conclusion of a "Jesus and me" religion. If there's no sin, there's no punishment for sin, no need for a religious mechanism to deal with sin, and therefore no need for any authority at all in matters of faith--not even the Bible.
In the Church of Ma-ma and Pa-pa, it is impossible to sin, either because one subscribes to a Calvinist view that there is no free will, and you therefore are not accountable for your sins, or because one believes, with Luther, that all sins are forgiven at the point of faith, that everyone, ALL PEOPLE, are totally depraved, and there is therefore no point in trying to avoid sin or do good, since you are so intrinsically bad that you can't avoid sin--and the good things you think you are doing are actually an offense to God. So much for worshipping in community and serving others.
In fact, it has been whispered in my family that my sister is in "error" because she believes in helping the homeless and suchlike, with her "works," and that somehow has merit in the eyes of God. And yet those whisperers have no more foundation for such beliefs than my sister has for hers! God forbid we should serve others, since that might be seen as a "work," and would therefore offend Him! You see how quickly half-remembered things from Scripture turn Christian values on their heads. Compare that with these words of Paul: "But there will be glory, honor, and peace for everyone who does good, Jew first and then Greek. There is no partiality with God" (Romans 2:10-11). If, as Luther believed, our good works are repugnant to God, and if, as John Calvin believed, there is no way we are capable of choosing to do good, then this verse makes no sense. It, and the passage preceding it, clearly point to our ability to choose to do good, which then has some value to God bearing on our eternal reward (glory).
In the Church of Ma-ma and Pa-pa, one's fond recollection of those two dear loved ones substitutes for knowledge of theology and doctrine. For me, it wasn't enough. You're ultimately setting up your very own church of one believer, with no one to gainsay you--not even God.
That leaves me in the position of having the freedom to write about the housewife/ stay-at-home-mom experience from the religious perspective, if in fact we angle the newsletter that way. I think this will be possible, although unsatisfyingly generic, since in aiming for an even narrower "faith-minded" audience, one is forced to make allowances for practically every shade of Christian, which many readers who are passionately committed to certain doctrines or interpretations of Scripture might find hollow. There would seem to be no middle ground that would satisfy everyone.
What does all this have to do with the Church of Ma-ma and Pa-pa? With the utmost respect to my departed grandparents, for whom I pray and sacrifice daily, I have to explain this family phenomenon. Apparently, when my mom and dad got together back in the 70's (presumably, after my dad told my mom that he would never marry a Catholic), my mom decided after long talks with her in-laws that their version of faith suited her. She became attracted to the Billy Graham revival movement, and even attended one of his crusades. She got my dad to set foot in a church, and even taught Sunday School for a time.
Fast-forward ten years. Mom divorced Dad, and although he retained custody of my sister and I, we lived with Ma-ma and Pa-pa while Dad attended nursing school. We went to an "Orthodox Presbyterian" church and the youth activities there. It was a happy time, and every night before bed Ma-ma would always come in and pray with us and we'd recite our Bible verses, most especially John 3:16. I don't know what exactly they believed, but for us it was a child's faith, a comforting faith, uncomplicated by doctrines and questions of exegesis and authority. We knew Jesus loved us and died for us and that we believed in Him, so we would go to heaven.
Fast-forward twenty years. Today Ma-ma and Pa-pa are gone, and although what I remember of their faith didn't get me too far in life, my sister clings passionately to what she remembers. My mother claims this as well, and has told me that "Whatever Billy Graham believes, that's what I believe." My dad, as well, while rejecting a faith that requires church-going, parrots verses and lines of argument that he no doubt learned in his youth. This is what I call "generic Christianity." It's a comfortable, "Jesus-and-me" religion that seems translatable to adult life straight from Sunday school, and it often serves as a middle ground for adults trying to reconcile differing denominations, creeds, and confessions.
There are a number of problems with this kind of Christianity, as you might expect. Without the regular reading and study of Scripture, one quickly loses one's moorings, relying on Ma-ma's or Billy Graham's interpretation of some half-remembered Bible verses and glossing over the rest. For example, my dad takes Paul's verse about preaching only "Christ, and Him crucified," to mean that we are not to concern ourselves over anything else the Bible might have to say. My sister has attended Seventh-Day Adventist churches without a clear idea of what they believe, not that it matters. As she told my mother, "Just because I go to a church doesn't mean I believe everything they believe." And for my mother, finally, the rejection of any organized church and the absence of any Scripture study at all leads to the uncritical acceptance of reincarnation, gay marriage, liberal politics in general and condemnations of the Catholic Church in particular.
As I turned from the "Bible church" I was attending, hoping to find some version of Christianity I could accept without doubt, I briefly considered the Church of Ma-ma and Pa-pa, but immediately rejected it. Why? Well, there was a reason I was looking for a church to attend in the first place. I knew Scripture clearly called us to worship in community AND to serve others. If you go long enough, you can lose sight of the fact that the whole point of Christ's sacrifice was not to make people unaccountable for their sins. Christ's sacrifice was not a get-out-of-jail-free card for sinners. But that is the logical conclusion of a "Jesus and me" religion. If there's no sin, there's no punishment for sin, no need for a religious mechanism to deal with sin, and therefore no need for any authority at all in matters of faith--not even the Bible.
In the Church of Ma-ma and Pa-pa, it is impossible to sin, either because one subscribes to a Calvinist view that there is no free will, and you therefore are not accountable for your sins, or because one believes, with Luther, that all sins are forgiven at the point of faith, that everyone, ALL PEOPLE, are totally depraved, and there is therefore no point in trying to avoid sin or do good, since you are so intrinsically bad that you can't avoid sin--and the good things you think you are doing are actually an offense to God. So much for worshipping in community and serving others.
In fact, it has been whispered in my family that my sister is in "error" because she believes in helping the homeless and suchlike, with her "works," and that somehow has merit in the eyes of God. And yet those whisperers have no more foundation for such beliefs than my sister has for hers! God forbid we should serve others, since that might be seen as a "work," and would therefore offend Him! You see how quickly half-remembered things from Scripture turn Christian values on their heads. Compare that with these words of Paul: "But there will be glory, honor, and peace for everyone who does good, Jew first and then Greek. There is no partiality with God" (Romans 2:10-11). If, as Luther believed, our good works are repugnant to God, and if, as John Calvin believed, there is no way we are capable of choosing to do good, then this verse makes no sense. It, and the passage preceding it, clearly point to our ability to choose to do good, which then has some value to God bearing on our eternal reward (glory).
In the Church of Ma-ma and Pa-pa, one's fond recollection of those two dear loved ones substitutes for knowledge of theology and doctrine. For me, it wasn't enough. You're ultimately setting up your very own church of one believer, with no one to gainsay you--not even God.
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