The Triumph of Trivial Distractions...

When Jay and I were younger, before we had children and a mortgage, we took the money we'd been saving for a down payment on a house and we went to Europe for a month.

We wandered around, finding hotels when we got to a new city and seeing all the things we'd read about or heard about or, in my case, had just started teaching about--that we could afford to get to. To be clear, that really only included Western Europe (except Spain, they were having a ground transportation strike. An older Welsh man tried to convince us that this was normal and happened in the US, too, but his only evidence was that air traffic controllers went on strike sometime in the '80s and we didn't know what he was talking about).

So we ate cheese and chocolate in Paris and had good beer in Munich and discovered gelato in Italy. One of the places I was most excited to see was Rome. Not just because of the aqueducts and the Roman roads that made my history geek heart soar, but also because of the art. I couldn't wait to see Raphael and da Vinci and Michelangelo.

You can't take pictures inside the Vatican Museum so this is me in the Coliseum on that trip. Those are the lovely tickets to the museum that I saved because we used to make scrapbooks before there were digital cameras and the internet. Also I was blonde for some reason.

On the day we toured the Vatican Museum we waited in an incredibly long line that wrapped around a large portion of the perimeter walls of the Vatican. It was crazy hot and there were very loud American teenagers in front of us, one of whom was wearing track pants that said "juicy" on the rear end and I thought, "that might not be the most appropriate outfit for touring the home of the Pope." Sadly, Jay and I don't speak any languages but English well enough to pretend we weren't American so mostly we just tried to edge farther away from them in line.

After moving through room after room of priceless art in what used to be the papal palace we entered the Sistine Chapel. The ceiling is perhaps the most famous series of Biblical scenes--most people know that moment of God reaching out a finger to meet Adam and deliver the spark that ignites the soul of mankind.

But the image that caught my attention was the The Last Judgment painted behind the altar. Michelangelo created the ceiling toward the beginning of his career and the far more frightening and overwhelming Last Judgment toward the end. It showed hundreds of nude figures engaged in the battle for the immortal souls of mankind with Jesus at the center. Michelangelo himself is painted into the work as a flayed skin.

I loved it.

Picture of The Last Judgment I totally stole from the internet

When I would teach the Renaissance to 15- and 16-year-olds, I always pointed out that the nude figures had caused quite a controversy (because saying nudity to a room full of 10th graders makes them pay attention). And although Michelangelo was following the Greek and Roman tradition of nudes (which he also did in sculptures--think the statue of David), critics condemned the use of nudity in this painting and eventually many figures had loincloths painted over them so as not to offend those critics.

The other day, Jay and I were watching a TED talk about the Sistine Chapel...you know, as we are wont to do. Art historian Elizabeth Lev gave a passionate overview of Michelangelo's work and if you're at all interested you should take the 17 minutes and watch it. Around minute 13:40 is when she gets to the part about the nudity controversy in The Last Judgement.

It's during that segment that she spoke a phrase that grabbed my attention and wouldn't let go. When she described the cover-up job done to make the nude figures more palatable to the critics, she refers to the entire conflict as "a triumph of trivial distractions over his great exhortation to glory."

I made Jay pause the video and go back. There was plenty to wrestle with in the painting: Does the raised arm of Jesus bring any comfort or just some good old fashioned smiting? Are the saints and angels rescuing people from hell or are those people crying out for God or is there even a difference if the end is finally actually here? Rumor was that the pope fell down and acknowledged his unworthiness when he saw it (no clue if that's actually true or not).

But instead of dealing with challenging thoughts concerning the struggles of the human condition or mankind's interpretation of God and expressions of faith, the naked people is what got the press. Veeeerry early press as the printing press was still relatively new, but press nonetheless.

The triumph of trivial distractions over the exhortation to glory.

How much does that phrase sum up our current political climate? Our current religious climate? Our over-scheduled and tech-filled lives in general? Will there one day be some historian using such a phrase to describe the years in which I lived most of my adulthood?

I just spent 3 minutes watching a trailer for Ice Age: Collision Course, also known as Ice Age 137. Why did I do that? They're woolly mammoths. I KNOW how this ends. And I'm sure I'll get to enjoy this artistic treasure when it comes out in a few months due to the whining of my kids. I don't need a trailer for more information.

I cannot in any way account for the amount of time I've spent on Facebook or Instagram or Twitter because it's become a weird sort of default while waiting in lines or, more embarrassingly, at red lights. But these are the obvious trivial distractions in my life...these are the ones I'm aware of caving in to when my mind is sleepy and wants brain candy.

My bigger fear is this: what other things in my life will look like trivial distractions the further I get from them?

When Biagio da Cesena, the pope's Master of Ceremonies and outspoken critic of the nudes in The Last Judgement, complained about Michelangelo's use of nudity I bet he thought it was a good use of his time. Maybe there were crazy nudes everywhere in Rome in the 1540s and he was just trying to keep his city clean. Maybe he was worried about distracting the future popes and cardinals to come (no one else was allowed in the Sistine Chapel at the time). Maybe he just found Michelangelo to be personally offensive.

But he wound up ignoring the pain of those descending into hell, the concern on the faces of the saints and angels, and the awakening of the dead in Christ. If he really wanted to point out perceived flaws in the painting he could have called out Michelangelo for using just as much imagery from Dante as he did from the Bible. Instead, he harped on the nudes and got painted into hell by Michelangelo for his efforts. In fact, his,,,um..."bathing suit parts" are tastefully covered by the mouth of a snake.

Biagio as Minos--another picture I stole from the internet

Whether or not Biagio was justified in his criticism isn't really my point. My point is that it was the easiest topic to fixate on, to spread information about, and to argue over. My point is that discussion was bogged down on one small aspect of the whole to the detriment of everything else. He spent his time and energy on a topic that, in the end, didn't really matter all that much.

Do you know what I talk about with people the most? Summer camps for the kids, places we visit, upcoming projects for the house. Occasionally I get into political discussions or talk about a movie I've seen. These aren't bad topics. They're things I'm doing in my life and things that have to be done.

But am I missing my exhortation to glory? Am I allowing my to-do list to triumph over the call to love my neighbor? Am I sinking into the safety of my ordered life while the battle for justice and freedom rages around me unseen?

I'm gonna go ahead and say yes.

What are my trivial distractions? What could glory look like? What might my imaginary future historian about this moment say if we all try to find out? What if we attempted to look around at the lives of others without jealousy over our carefully culled social media presentations? What if we stopped obsessing over raising perfect children or getting perfect bodies?

Let's not be known as a generation of people who allowed the triumph of trivial distractions to overcome the exhortation to glory. I think we can do it. 

Best Mom Tip #162: Write that down

This is my kitchen calendar. It is 3'x3' of dry-erase, magnetic, color-coded, organizational fun. I made it myself. I'm sure you have myriad questions regarding my calendar, so let me illuminate you.

First, why is it 3 FEET by 3 FEET instead of a normal sized calendar? Well, because I have a ridiculous amount of stuff to write on it and I need all members of my family to know when they have to be places.

I have a calendar I keep in my purse--that's where I write down the doctor's appointments while I'm in the office or right after I sign up for a kid's school conference. And although this works when I'm away from home, it has it's limitations; the squares are small, I have to remember my own short-hand. But the biggest problem is that Jay cannot (or will not) look at it. If he needs to take a kid to soccer or know that I will not be home for dinner because I am abandoning my family for girls' night out, he needs to know this ahead of time. He does not like surprises that involve me leaving the home suddenly.

The giant calendar hangs right next to our kitchen table so every breakfast, lunch, and dinner, I can remind myself what's happening this week. Which is good because any given week is like one of those memory tests they give you to see if you have alzheimer's.

Last week Charlotte had to take between 20 and 100 individually wrapped pieces of candy that had to fit into a special "estimation" jar (which Jay kept referring to as the elimination jar--that seems like pretty intense 1st grade if there are eliminations) and 5 of her favorite photographs of herself. These were due on Monday. I don't have any photos of her that aren't hanging on the wall. They are all in the computer. I had to print out 5 pictures at Walgreens and send Jay to get them with Charlotte. They came back with the pictures and 200 dum dums. I now have 156 extra dum dums. Every day after that she had to remember to take a special item for show and tell.

Griffin had to wear blue on Monday, a silly hat on Wednesday, and a crazy hair style on Friday. Also on Wednesday he had to take 14 individually wrapped snack food items that were peanut-free and not cake or cupcakes. We needed to provide small cups and napkins as well.

Then there were soccer practices, soccer games, the guys fixing my flooded/rotted/mushy kitchen floor, and a well baby visit to the doctor. Thus the need for a really big calendar.

So, you ask, how did I make my amazing calendar? I bought two magnetic dry erase boards for $10 a piece at Michael's and tore the cheap frame off of them. I used a ruler and a sharpie to draw the grid and I left a column to the left for grocery items and to store the magnets we collect for some odd reason when we go on vacation. This keeps my refrigerator clear, which makes me inordinately happy.

I used the green and white strip tape that I used as a teacher to affix posters to cement block walls to mount the thing on my wall--it will totally tear the wall when I take it off so I am never going to move.

So what else is so great about a giant wall-hogging sheet of dates and activities? Well, the squares are so big that if we get invited to something, I can just post the invitation on the date of the event so I know the details when the day arrives. There is room to post baby announcements and Christmas cards until I 1) send a gift or 2) get tired of looking at that family. Sometimes 1 and 2 happen simultaneously. I bought colored dry-erase markers so each member of our family has a color. Griffin, who can't read, still knows when something involves him because of the color. Finally, my calendar runs Monday to Sunday so that I can see my whole weekend right next to each other.

My family actually looks forward to when I change over the calendar--wiping off the name of the month and the dates and adding the new month's events. Charlotte can't wait to see what she has to do for the week or month or how far that makes it until her birthday.

I know that it may be too big or too crowded or too much like a teacher made it (it's hard to let that go), but I really benefit from it. And I remember to bring a brown paper grocery bag, two dozen non-choke-able beads, and a bottle of finger paint to make a Native American for Thanksgiving. Or whatever it is that they're doing with that stuff.

Best Mom Tip #157: Ignore the other moms, Part 2

In addition to feeling self conscious around more stylish moms (see yesterday), I also feel as though I'm failing as a parent when I'm around the highly active/organized moms.

At curriculum night at Charlotte's school, every mom who signed up to volunteer for something pulled a giant organizer/coupon holder/wallet thing out of her purse. Why is it that big? What else should I be writing down? Why do I not understand the appeal of couponing?

At the bus stop another mom asked me if Charlotte wanted to take chess lessons after school with her daughter. I have nothing against chess. I actually like to play chess. But I was taught by my dad (who never let me win, by the way) and we didn't have to pay 250 bucks a month for the privilege. I'm sure that chess club would help her problem solving skills and her ability to think logically, but I kind of like it that she just comes home. She does her homework. Then she watches TV and then goes outside to play. I call them in for dinner by yelling and banging on the window. It's like my life in 1982 all over again, but without Stretch Armstrong.

Why must I be exposed to the parents who have their kids taking violin lessons and practicing their math skills on Saturdays? Chess Mom also showed me the "easy" 300 piece puzzle her 6-year-old had just put together. She said it was easy because, since it is of the United States, there are words all over it. Yes, but in order for that to be useful, you need to know where Montana is in relation to Tampa. What 6-year-old knows that? This kid also speaks Hebrew and can play the piano. Charlotte's only hope of becoming bilingual is if my mother begins teaching her Appalachian Hill People as a second language.

There are the kids on our neighborhood swim team who also take private swim lessons year round. There were the moms at gymnastics who had serious conversations about scholarship opportunities for college gymnasts. I constantly feel like maybe I'm holding back my kids' potential because I haven't signed up for enough stuff.

Don't get me wrong, they do have some outside activities. It's just that they are only allowed to have one at a time. And I don't assume that they will ever make any money off it, become smarter from it, or suddenly discover a latent superpower. I know that occasionally, making sure that your kid is constantly striving to do better at their extracurricular activity works out for them. Tiger Woods has been playing golf since he was 3 and he's made a little money. Britney Spears' mom had her singing and dancing by 5 or so as well. But, honestly, they both seem like pretty crappy spouses.

I'd rather have my slightly-above-average-intelligence children with healthy relationships and lifestyles than have them be super-rich. Maybe they can be both, but I'm not sure I can think of a billionaire who also seems to have normal kids. Maybe Warren Buffet, but I can guarantee that whatever his mom did, it didn't involve a giant calendar and chauffeuring her kids to 4 events a week. They probably only had one car anyway.

Like I decided yesterday, I'm going to try to stop the comparisons and make my decisions based on my own kids' needs and wants. I hope, when they're adults, they don't have to spend money on a therapist because I didn't challenge them enough. I can just hear them complaining, "I could have reached my full potential if only my mom had signed me up for soccer AND chess club at the same time." Even if they do, I'm certainly not paying for it.

Best Mom Tip #153: Party like it's 1979

Last week I read this article about why parents of the 70s and 80s did a better job than we are currently doing with our own children. The basic point was that parenting was a bit simpler and they did not seem so afraid that we would die/disappear/stop loving them if they made us mad.

Although I didn't necessarily agree with the whole article (I know a lot of people my age whose parents did a crappy job), I thought the section about birthdays was pretty true. The author complained that birthday parties today are too elaborate, what with ponies and bounce houses and the like. We have certainly gone to some pretty elaborate birthdays over the years, but this weekend we hosted a really basic party for Griffin.

Now I will fully admit that this is less of a parenting philosophy statement and more of a "I'm a really bad housewife" kind of a statement. I have been shamed by a multitude of parties my kids have been invited to. There was the one with the pony and petting zoo. And the one where a "train" came to drive all the children around the neighborhood. There's actually a TLC show about crazy kid parties (they have a show about everything).

Even the more tame ones tend to make me painfully aware of my ineptitude as a domestic success. Charlotte went to one party where the theme was Mary Poppins and the mom had made "spoonfuls of sugar" (molded chocolate in spoons) and gave ceramic piggy banks as party gifts (to hold your tuppence).

Griffin asked that his party be Mickey Mouse Fireman with a Toy Story balloon. So he got Mickey Mouse streamers and fire hats. And a Buzz Lightyear balloon. That cake up there at the top of the post? (Thanks for the pic, Cheryl). Yeah, I totally bought that at Publix and stuck some fire truck candles on it. I did make chocolate cupcakes, but I used a mix. And store-bought icing.

There were no goody bags. I just didn't get around to it. I also only invited kids whose parents I like. Griffin is still young enough for me to get away with that.

The result? I had a great time. Jay and I only know how to throw one party--it involves Jay grilling hamburgers and a lot of fruit. But it was fun. We turned the sprinkler on in the back yard and threw plastic cups out there for the dozen or so kids to play with. And I mean the actual sprinkler we use to water the lawn--not any sort of $70 water ball from PBKids. And I mean red solo cups like you stood around the keg holding at parties in college.

Kids ate, they played, there was cake. Griffin said that he had a great time and that his party was "too exciding!'" Obviously I will not be featured in Southern Living any time soon. Martha Stewart will not be offering recipes that begin with "always buy the cheapest cake mix you can find."

I still think it was a good time. And so did my kids.