As a commercial holiday, Father’s Day runs a distant second to Mother’s Day. Americans spend much less on dad, and this year spending is down even more. So what does that mean? Do we spend less because we appreciate dad’s contributions less? Does mom get more because we think that she gives more? In my Rethinking Mother’s Day post, I tried to take a hard look at how we get motherhood, and Mother’s Day, wrong. It seems only fair to do the same for dad.
So what do we, as a society, expect from dad? The media tends to portray fathers as bumbling incompetents in the domestic sphere (Ray Romano), or as sexist buffoons declaring domestic chores to be “woman’s work,” (Archie Bunker), or as hyper-successful patriarchs, too busy with “important stuff” to do much around the house (JR Ewing, Tony Soprano). Except for grilling meat on the barbecue, men seem doomed by our collective expectations, to feel conflicted about participating in day-to-day home life. This is bad for everyone, especially kids. Read the rest of this entry »
When I ditched TV ten years ago, it wasn’t for moral reasons. It wasn’t because I was worried that TV was rotting my brain, and it wasn’t because I couldn’t afford the cable bills. It was, purely and simply, a time-management decision. I never would have gotten through grad school if I had continued wasting spending 3 or 4 hours a day in front of the tube. But it took me awhile to pull the plug because I honestly believed that I loved TV. As a latchkey kid, I’d grown up with television, logging 25+ hours a week. The television was a pseudo parent and friend. Even after ten years of living television-free, I still can’t ignore it. If a TV is turned on anywhere near me, I am helplessly drawn to it.
So, when I canceled our cable account, I braced myself for a long painful withdrawl process. Read the rest of this entry »
The grass may be greener on the other side of the fence but you still have to mow it. – Proverb
When I moved into my house last August, the yard was mostly dirt, weeds and moss. At the time I was so overwhelmed by the work of owning an old house, that I thought, “good” moss and dirt are low maintenance. I’ll worry about it next spring.
When next spring came, I bought a big bag of grass seed, tossed it on the barren ground, sprayed it with water and hoped for the best. I was pretty sure nothing would grow. Somewhere I got the idea that grass was really really hard to cultivate. But, amazingly, it grew. And grew and grew. Now we needed a lawnmower.
This may not seem like a big deal to those of you who have been mowing since high school, but owning a lawnmower is a jarring rite of passage for former apartment dwellers. For my entire adult life I’ve avoided owning the fleet of lawn care machinery my suburban parents did battle with. Lawn mowing always seemed like an unpleasant, loud, polluting, dangerous chore, and the tool one used for it (the lawnmower) was an expensive, cumbersome piece of equipment that wouldn’t fit in our extremely narrow one-car garage. Moreover, I dreaded the effect it would have on my five year old. He can’t keep away from anything noisy and mechanical, so I was sure I’d be yelling myself horse warning him away from the deadly, spinning blades.
Enter the old-fashioned rotary mower. The Scotts push reel mower we bought was a hundred dollars cheaper then the least-expensive gas-powered or electric mower and it fit in our tiny garage! We brought it home from the hardware store and my husband assembled it in under ten minutes. It was whisper-quiet and it cut the grass beautifully, but there was an even bigger benefit that I hadn’t anticipated. My son wanted to help, and it seemed safe enough to let him. Supervised by my husband, he pushed the mower and called out, “This is so fun, mom! I want to do this every weekend.”
The frugality movement is about more than just saving money, it’s about rethinking our consumer culture. Since today is Mother’s Day, I thought I would take a moment to consider how we celebrate mom.
According to the National Retail Federation, Americans will spend an an estimated $14.10 billion on Mother’s Day cards and gifts. Clearly, Mother’s Day is a phenomenally successful commercial holiday, but more than the money spent on cards and gifts, the lamentable thing about Mother’s Day is the canned, sentimental, idealized, gooey portrayal of mothers themselves. That’s why I offer this Pink Floyd video for your consideration.
It’s the opposite of a Hallmark card and, I know this sounds strange, but I think it gets to the bottom of what mothers really are–larger-then-life figures in their children’s consciouness and counterpoints to humankind’s destructive efforts. Pink Floyd’s “Mother” explores the richness and complexity of this primary relationship. The song reveals the push-pull, the vulnerability and the defiance, the fierce energy of our connection to mother, and the deep melancholy over the fraught nature of that connection.
When I consider my relationship with my mother and with my son, this vision of motherhood feels more authentic and, oddly enough, more inspiring than the media portrayal of mothers as long-suffering saints or always-cuddly pets. Motherhood isn’t about how closely we match a commercial ideal, but how deeply and ferociously we love. So on this frugal Mother’s Day, I’m rethinking what motherhood means. I’ve decided to embrace the complexity and the chaos, and I’ve recommitted myself to doing motherly battle with the forces of destruction.
For Mother’s Day, I’m not getting flowers, candy, or jewelry. My husband and son are outside in the yard as I write this, building me a victory garden.
When I moved into my house last August, the yard was mostly dirt, weeds and moss. At the time I was so overwhelmed by the work of owning an old house, that I thought, “good” moss and dirt are low maintenance. I’ll worry about it next spring. 
we bought was a hundred dollars cheaper then the least-expensive gas-powered or electric mower and it fit in our tiny garage! We brought it home from the hardware store and my husband assembled it in under ten minutes. It was whisper-quiet and it cut the grass beautifully, but there was an even bigger benefit that I hadn’t anticipated. My son wanted to help, and it seemed safe enough to let him. Supervised by my husband, he pushed the mower and called out, “This is so fun, mom! I want to do this every weekend.”