As a child, whenever a teacher or parent would tell a group of us kids to “stop standing around and do something,” I would bristle. An outsider, who had no clue that our little conversation, game, or plot to take over the play ground was of supreme importance in our world, would irk me. Someone from the adult world would bark a few orders and expect us to give up on our recess dreams and clean up or head back into the building. Do something!

I always wanted to shout back that indeed I was doing something, I was planning, plotting.

As an adult I am acutely aware of how prevalent the concept of standing around and doing nothing really is. I recently read a book by Peter Rollins called The Orthodox Heretic and Other Impossible Tales. In the introduction Rollins talks about the penchant that many of us have for really, standing around and doing nothing. Whether it is a subculture of folks who consider themselves politically savvy or up on the latest needs in the developing world. Perhaps a group of people aware of racial tension who have been educated on how to break these barriers. It may be a congregation or community of organizers who know everything about charter schools or NGO’s, Immigration Reform, Climate Change or the latest details of Cap ‘n’ Trade policies. Perhaps just a small group of folks all hip on the needs in their community or a team of people who have just been to a convention.

Whatever the scenario, picture a cocktail party sort of atmosphere where everyone is up on all the latest needs in the world. They are so informed that they may even dare to mock those less informed. Yet they are doing nothing but talking about it all. Rollins says calls them “self-aware purveyors of irony” who stand around mocking the very behavior they are engaging in, and when any of us find ourselves here, we are (of course) ridiculous.

And as I read Rollins’ words I dared to let a smug sort of laugh slip out. I thought to myself, “how foolish of people, to think that life is just about standing around talking about the issues and then missing the chance to act on them.” All this while I was not taking into consideration all my own inaction. Now of course, this is not to say that reading up and talking about issues is a waste of time, but lately I am losing my patience with how informed people can feel (myself included) and yet choose to pass up the chance to jump in and do something.

Like last week when I dropped my children off at a two hour camp in town. A camp designed to get them outside, running around. A camp where arts and crafts of the nature variety were offered in an attempt to get our kids in touch with the planet. A camp where chatty, uber-informed moms stood outside their vans chatting with one another about all the great, enriching, informed things they were doing for their children. I stood watching them as I signed the clipboard to release them for the morning.

Children were lined up along the curb just a few feet from a line of cars that were all running. Everyone was idling their cars, air conditioners blasting away in each automobile. While the parents patted kids on the head and chatted with one another, the kids stood in line sucking down the exhaust fumes from their parent’s cars. The same fumes that were going into their lungs and into the atmosphere to add to our enormous carbon output. 

It seemed like such a benign little thing, idling the car for a few moments. Nothing big. But at that moment it was, for me, a perfect picture of our completely fragmented lives. And I will confess that while I do my best not to idle the car, and was not in the line of cars that day, I have my days when I am in some sort of other line in another place or situation where my dichotomies come screaming through. But this day I signed in my boys and then kept them at my side until the vans pulled away. Vans filled with parents who dropped their kids off for a day in the sun, a day at camp, a day of nature and sports. They felt good as they pulled away. They talked about how they were doing their duty as parents, getting them all involved in sports and with other kids. Having them do leaf rubbings or something else to learn about the earth. 

All the while standing around and doing nothing. Idling away. Idling itself, while a significant issue, is not the problem (although, eco tip for the day, if you are going to sit still for more than 30 seconds, TURN IT OFF, this means at the ATM too). But it all points to a bigger picture. For example, we send our kids to school, they learn about the rain forests and the beauty of the Amazon and the diversity of life there. They learn that they need to preserve it. Parents want them to learn this stuff. Then the same kids walk down the hall to lunch and, on average, over the course of a year, will throw 67 pounds of waste in the trash each year. The average yearly lunch room waste per child is 67 pounds. This is more than my school-age son currently weighs. 

Standing around doing nothing. Putting actions with words. 

Idle. If we are not careful, we are idling most of the time.

I have an issue with being considered typical. I balk at the thought that I am simply normal, that there is nothing exactly spectacular or unique that I have to offer. This of course is the very neurotic side of my life that comes out more often than I like. It is the part of me that has always wanted to perform the best in class or on the athletic field, or even outsmart my little sister at the dinner table when we were younger.

It is the part of me, much to my chagrin, that puts considerable stock in over-achieving for the sake of a good pat on the back. I will confess, I thrive on accolades. I’ve spent the better part of my adult life working through these issues as clearly, this is not the healthiest way to live. But, I have managed to find one place where I am sometimes, actually, sort of abnormal, and it saddens me.

When I became a mother I cringed every time I was seen pushing a stroller with a screaming child down the street. I’d be sweating and cursing under my breath. Rattles or pacifiers would keep flying from the stroller. I always had a cup of coffee perched in the cup holder that I tried desperately not to spill. Eventually I would stoop down to pick up the tossed pacifier and would inevitably run into someone or something. Coffee spilling, the baby moaning even louder, and me making apologies of every sort. With my hair and attire completely amuck I would apologize seven different ways and move on.

As I left I could almost hear the groans, laughter, or sighs. “Typical mom.” 

“There goes another over-caffeinated woman with wacky kids.” 

And I was. And am. Sort of.

You see, I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what we call “normal.” I think about this because I am trying my hardest to capture the thoughts of “normal moms” these days. I am not completely sure who they even are, but in every little niche we create for people we talk about “normal or typical” right? We say “well, the typical high school kid would do this,” or “the average homeowner does that,” or “most professionals say that.” You get the point.

And as much as we balk at stereotypes and do our best to break them down, some of them are true. Most of us moms run around crashing strollers into things because we are just that distracted. Most high school students are flirty and obsessed with dating. Most professionals these days can e-mail from their phones. These “normal” labels come from someplace right?

Well, I have been thinking about what a new normal might look like. Since I am doing my very best to get people motivated to save this little planet of ours, I am hoping that we can create a new normal that looks like everyone doing their part. Thing is, people I meet and talk to will say “well yes, I agree that we need to cut down on our waste, but try to tell a normal mom to stop using ziploc baggies? Good luck with that.” Or “well, the average person is just not going to stop driving and start carpooling.” Or “most people are strapped for case these days and are not going to shell out extra money for fair trade coffee or organic produce.”

So what might a new normal look like? When I meet people, or totally snoop at their purchases on the conveyor belt at the grocer, I start to dream of a normal that looks like everyone bringing their reusable bags to the store, walking whenever they can, limiting their consumption, shopping locally, caring about pollutants and irritants and all the noxious stuff we ingest and toss away each and every day. And I wonder if it is possible for a mom to crash that stroller because she chose to walk and not drive, or because she was daydreaming about healthcare for textile workers in Bangledesh. 

Could happen. Could be a new normal. Won’t happen unless those of us who envision the same world start acting like we want the average citizen of this new world to live. Here’ a great place that is dreaming up a new reality http://www.newdream.org/

be normal.

happy campers

We survived our camping trip this weekend and of course I cannot pass up the chance to blog about it. Some of you may be the camping type and love the thought of this sort of endeavor. It brings back memories of your own childhood, flashlights, and the lumpy floors of a tent. Others of you are of the Hyatt variety and this is just fine too. No judgment here. But my husband and I, we both grew up camping and somehow made it to adulthood still wanting to do it. Craving to do it actually. When we lived in Colorado we could whip up a camping trip on a whim. We’d both get home on a Friday afternoon, look at one another and say “so yeah, ya wanna go camping?” and within an hour we’d be packed, through traffic, and on our way into the Colorado backcountry.

Then we had kids.

Three of them to be exact.

So this was the first trip with all three of them. And it was pure chaos. And it was excellent.

Of course we were in a crowded campground in central Wisconsin. There were RV’s and tents everywhere, college students drinking too much a few sites down, random people stuck in the 70’s next to us. They liked their radio and had a penchant for old Journey songs. We were late making our reservation so we also landed the site across from the bathroom. Lucky us. I had to tell myself that we need not be alone in British Columbia for this to somehow count.

So it was still fabulous. A campfire and two boys with an obsession for burning sticks. There were flashlights and mad dashes through the trees once it got dark. Scratches on arms and legs and dip in the lake before sundown. A 20 month old who found falling asleep and staying asleep completely overrated. She awoke at 4:45 AM ready for fun. Good thing the hubby likes to fish early. They went fishing and left the boys and I to slumber to the late, late hour of 6:30 AM. There were also mosquitos to swat and grounds in the coffee. Smores to make and bagels for breakfast.

The next morning we were all completely exhausted, hungry, and we stank. Campfire smoke and dirt and marshmallows stuck to faces. The residue of bug spray and sand from the lake stuck to our skin. It feels sort of hangoverish to be honest. By 7:00 we’d had three trips to the bathroom and breakfast under our belts. By 8:00 we were running through the trees again, waking up the rest of the campground. So we packed up and rolled out to hike up a lookout tower by 8:30 AM. 

All chaos and sticky goo aside, it was one of the highlights of the summer. That next morning as I sipped my chewy coffee without my beloved cream and stared at the kids with a smile, my husband said to me “well you are in a surprisingly good mood given all the chaos last night.” I’m normally given to erratic evil behavior when short on sleep. But the fresh air and the sight of my kids running amuck in a campsite made me squeal with delight inside my sleepy little heart.

I think to camp, to be outside, to soak in the trees and nature is in my soul. We’ve all got that hobby or activity that just moves us to a place beyond all the chaos of this life. Maybe it is when you dance or sing or camp or run. Maybe it is when you paint or swim or write. Whatever it is, we’ve all been wired to find our hearts bursting when we get to do that thing we love so much.We are overcome with joy, the sappy among us get all teary, and the very thought that our kids might just love what we love is honestly beyond words. It really is. It’s just sort of a big goosebump of a feeling that creeps up over your shoulders and into your heart.

Being outside, taking time to notice that which is big and majestic and so other than ourselves is my soul shaping thing. Honestly, I think that at some level it is everyone’s “thing.” You may not like to lay in a tent with a marshmallow skewer under your pillow, but almost everyone I know has an orange and crimson sunset etched in their brain. They’ve got a sandy, gritty beach memory, a whiff of sea salty air stuck in the recesses of their mind. Or maybe a fondness for rain or a snow day sort of feeling when fresh powder slips from the sky and rests on the window sill. 

So this weekend I was not grumpy. I was not an evil sleep deprived wife and mother. I was not overly concerned about the stains on the clothing or about keeping up appearances. I did not even care about the mosquito bites. I got to watch my children tear though a campsite and sleep outside and this brought joy to my weary suburban soul. The sort of joy I plan to repeat often and impart upon them forever and ever I hope.

So sometimes, with the three children in my life, the only moment of quiet I can get in a day looks like this:

I holler to my kids that we are heading out to wherever and this command is then repeated (much to my chagrin) at least two more times. Next is a debacle of missing shoes and whining about socks and wanting snacks for the car ride or walk to town. This part can last upwards of 30 minutes, I kid you not. Sometimes I get into my car and swear that I’ve been sucked into some sort of time warp or the the Island just moved through time like it did on LOST. Last I checked we were on time and now we are 20 minutes late. 

As the whole entourage heads out the door and they pile into the car I begin clicking seat belts and getting everyone situated. As I buckle the last one in and shut the door I have what I call a three second vacation. The car doors are closed. They are strapped into their seats. The child safety locks are in place on the doors. No one can get out. They are usually squabbling over something or bantering back and forth or just yelling “mommy” for some inane reason. But it is all muffled by the car windows that are rolled up. It just sounds like people talking on the phone in the Peanuts cartoon. Lips are moving but I cannot hear what they are saying.

It takes me all of three seconds to walk from the back passenger door to my driver’s door. But those three seconds are pure bliss. I take the deepest sigh I can. No one is touching me. No one is dragging on my leg. No one can get me. In my mind I am at a spa with great coffee and a good book. I breathe in deep. I breathe out. I am starting to think I should throw in a yoga move or two but I don’t know that many and it would get sort of weird in parking lots. Plus I do only have three seconds here.

Then I grab the driver’s side door handle, roll my neck around a few times, and then I open that door. Words come vomiting out of my car. Giggles and shrieks and cries for sippy cups. I sit down. Put it into drive. And off we go. I try to sigh once more, to keep some sort of happy place, but they need goldfish crackers and I’ve forgotten them so all is anarchy.

These 3 little seconds are marvelous. 

Sometimes I try to dream up an errand just so I can strap them into the car and force them to stop moving. Of course this is not very green of me so I stop myself, but not every time. Sometimes you just need to go and check out the train tracks in another town or something random like that.

I was all over the map as a mom today. Moments of sheer brilliance when I thought perhaps that indeed, I was the very best mom in the world. Moments of my at-home with my kids life that just shined. Moments when the professional side of me came out well and moments when it did not. Moments when the deep rooted evil psychopath mom came out. Normally I can assign one of these personalities to its own day each week. Most weeks they do not rise to greet me all in the same day. But today, look out. I needed those three seconds multiple times today.

Here is what it looked like. Today I woke up with my middle child and we snuggled on the couch and read books before everyone else popped out of bed. We all had breakfast without a single fuss. My 19 month old daughter did manage to chew up a mouthful of banana and then sneeze it out, so there was a moment when things hung in the balance, but we pulled it out of the nosedive.

My mom waltzed into my living room 15 minutes early to sit for my kids while I dashed into the city for a meeting. I got to sit around the table with some amazingly accomplished people who are dreaming up an urban gardening program in East Garfield Park. I was 10 minutes early. Banner day.

I also managed to make a wrong turn heading home, blow off two “no left turn signs” and eat half a box of wheat thins for lunch. I loved on my kids all afternoon and yelled at them to get shoes and socks to go to the dentist. I laughed with them and we read more books and I also pitched a fit to match theirs when my oldest had a meltdown over the silliest little thing. I let them eat the pile of tootsie rolls they got from the last parade we went to and we also picked fresh sugar snap peas and green beans from the garden. We ate these for dinner along with the home made pasta sauce I cooked all afternoon. Of course I did all this while fending off a whining 19 month old who clung to my legs (actually, dragged herself around from my legs is more like it). I yelled at her. Can’t she see I am cooking dinner? Hmmmm.

Did I mention I currently have chocolate chip cookies from scratch baking in the oven as I type?

These sorts of days drive me batty. Stuck in between working and at-homing it. Stuck between yelling and nurturing. Stuck between gardening and tootsie rolls. All I want is three more seconds to sort this stuff out. I think I could be a fabulous mom if I just had time to think straight. But I suppose this is what makes moms so amazing just the way they are. They manage to pull it all off in their own way, each and every day, with only 3 seconds to think straight. For what we pull off on limited brain power, we may as well be rocket scientists or neurosurgeons (and if you are one of those and a mom, you are my idol).

Well color me happy (as the saying goes), Wal-Mart just released a big claim to be greening up its act. But what does their claim really mean and how do we define what corporate green look like anyway? Especially since lately, corporate green seems to grow everywhere, at times fertilized by a healthy dose of corporate greed.

My savvy corporate sister-in-law forwarded me this great little article from Harvard Business Publishing

http://blogs.harvardbusiness.org/kanter/2009/07/walmarts-environmental-gamecha.htm

She’s smart and has an MBA so she reads things with the word Harvard in them. It is an interesting read. In a nutshell, it lets us all know that Wal-Mart has just announced a policy that lends a bit of eco-integrity to their business practices. The corporate policies of this global giant (as in their annual earnings are larger than the GDP of many smaller nations) have long been lamented by those who have a passion for anything of significance, like, say, worker’s rights, the environment, fair trade. You know, little things like that.

So now, Wal-Mart has leaned into the challenges stemming from the environmental front by stating that they will require their suppliers to list the environmental impact of their product on the label. Meaning, that the chemicals, packaging, shipping fuel, etc. that it takes to land an item on the shelf will need to be boiled down into a neat little label that tells the consumer exactly how much stress that box of CD’s or that bath mat placed on our ecosystems. And while I am about to unleash my own version of skepticism on all of this, I will pause here to say I APPLAUD THEM FOR THIS.

I have been a Wal-Mart naysayer for many years. I have managed to steer clear of the store of for four years straight (except for two horrible visits, one I unpack here: http://traceybianchi.com/i-went-to-wal-mart-i-went-to-wal-mart-ugh-i-went-to-wal-mart/ So for me to applaud this effort is no small task. But indeed, I do applaud it. Does it make me want to shop there anytime soon? Nope. But I do believe that green steps, regardless of how big or small, need to be celebrated. And here we have a corporate behemoth taking a Goliath sized green step, so I will sit back and clap my hands (albeit with some skepticism).

Their step makes a big difference. According the the article cited above, 130 million Americans visit a Wal-Mart each week. And since there are a bit over 300 million of us, this means that nearly half of all Americans hit what my husband calls “Wally World” each and every week. This is gives Wal-Mart the sort of power and responsibility that, quite frankly, I am not sure our federal government even wields.

Here is why I am not about to toss my kids into the car and dash out for cheap juice boxes:

1. Even though Wal-Mart will expect suppliers to label the ecological impact of their products, this does not mean that products receiving poor marks will be banned from the shelves, it just shifts the burden of deciding what to do from them to the consumer. You can still buy something even if it says “This product robbed your child’s future.” It’s up to you (not necessarily a bad thing).

2. While Wal-Mart has all these new green claims, I am not at all convinced that the folks responsible for marking their items as good or bad for the planet will be honest. Especially with the massive number of products that Wal-Mart imports from overseas, namely China. My understanding of manufacturing in China is that production there is loosely regulated and at times, impossible to monitor. So who’s to say whether or not that six-pack of sippy cups, labeled “planet friendly” really is? It’s up to honest reporting and monitoring of hundreds of thousands of suppliers. Good luck with that.

3. The folks with Harvard who published this article make an interesting point, they say that this move is “value based capitalism at it’s best.” Meaning that, when left to their own devices, companies can, at times, make wise decisions based on what is right, not always based on the bottom line. Again, I somewhat agree with this and am phenomenally thankful when it happens. But here is my question. Aren’t we really talking about a “need/desire based form of capitalism”?

I am not an economist and if you happen to be an economist who is reading this post you are likely wincing. But what I am trying to say is that ultimately, a system based on consistently manipulating the consumer to spend, is a system based on filling our insatiable needs and desires. The ones that are never, ever met. Just one more dollar. The surface ones that keep us clamoring for more, feeling constantly inadequate, and that keep us in debt. Former President Bush told us to go shopping post-911. Obama is trying his hardest to get us out of the doldrums and sailing once again through the malls. No one is taking a moment to consider the fact that maybe we don’t need to shop at Wal-Mart (or anywhere else) for that matter.

Wal-Mart’s green claims are good but the reality is that they are not a free ride to environmental bliss. They are, at best, a 400+ billion dollar change in the way we do business in the global marketplace. At worst, they are greenwashing and a sort of salve to the part of our soul that silently moans “how you consume comes with a price tag that you cannot afford.” 

So all this to say PLEASE think twice before dashing off to shop at Wal-Mart, or the mall or any other store for that matter. This is not to target Wal-Mart but to target our heart as consumers. We need considerably less than we have and need very little of what we want. And lest you think I am saying all this with some sort of snobbish anti-consumer flair, I will let you know that I am a consumer who has shoe and handbag fetishes as well as all the desires and trappings of the non-reflective life. And while I do my best to push these desires from my life, they still crop up in the form of cowboy boots and throw pillows. But I am trying here, trying very hard. And I am making some progress. And I hope that you are too. So as you hear green claims, from Wal-Mart or anyone else, stop to think for a moment about whether or not you even need to go to the store in the first place. And then if you do, does it have to be at Wal-Mart? Or can it be the local farmer, hardware store, or coffee shop down the street?

The greenest thing we can do is consume less.