TJ Hirst

“If you could have any one magical power, what would you pick?”

My youngest daughter pulled out the The Kids Book of Questions at the dinner table and asked us this one.

My answer?

Mufflers on my ears that block all the noise but allow me to tune in and listen when it is important for me to hear.

Summer vacation started with a bang, a bump, a scream, a fight, a loud voice, an interruption and the general inability to concentrate.

My stylist had the same problem. She tried to reassure herself and me that after two weeks we should all settle in. I’m wondering if that means they will reduce the noise, I will grow more tolerant, or those magical mufflers will appear in the mail.

Which power would you choose?

The story on National Public Radio was Melissa Block reporting from China on the rescue efforts after the earthquake. At first, it was only a background to the hubbub of kids’ voices in the car as my three children and I drove to a church activity at the park.

I turned up the volume, and the conversation behind me became just two voices. On the radio, she described the experience of a father and mother seeking help to search the rubble of their apartment building for their 2-year-old son and his grandparents. They were leading an excavator through the streets of their city, past precarious structures and roadblocks with hope to find their son alive two days after the earthquake.

Less than a minute into the report, the sorrowful sounds of the in-the-moment report of their search were the only ones in the car; my children were silent and listening. A woman was ripping three sections from a white sheet and giving them to the frantic mother to cover the faces of her family if they were found dead, according to local customs.

We hoped with them as we drove through our own city streets where the excavators and heavy equipment lined up for construction projects, not to rescue destruction. The sunny lakeside park we entered only highlighted our distance from their reality. We saw young men playing Frisbee, and we heard the rescuers’ report—they found the bodies of a small boy with two older people.

My children stayed silent when I turned off the car and grieved with this mother who was a stranger but for whom I felt a connection and compassion.

Read the full story or listen to the 11-minute broadcast, “Couple Frantic to Find Loved Ones in Rubble” at the NPR website.

The scale of the disasters and loss of life in Myanmar and China are unfathomable. The geographical and cultural distances further disconnect us from the reality of the situation. Individual stories like this one, in addition to factual information, allow us to feel a piece of the devastation.

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I was a candystriper in a hospital with a cute pink and white striped, pinafore jumper, a white shirt and white Keds tennis shoes. At 14, my friend and I made beds with hospital corners, answered room calls at the nurse’s station, delivered flowers or meals to patent’s rooms and pushed wheelchairs. We felt responsible and helpful, except when I dropped the urine specimen that wasn’t ready to be delivered to the lab.

This week is National Volunteer Week, and I encouraged my oldest daughter to find a volunteer job for the summer.

I was also invited to a volunteer recognition luncheon at the elementary school. I was embarrassed about going because I am a parent volunteer who only occasionally helps in my daughter’s classroom. I have two friends who are active PTA or PTO officers and another friend who is always helping in her daughter’s and son’s classrooms. They deserve a recognition lunch.

I do volunteer. In fact, I give much of my time freely to others, but I just help in less-structured ways. For instance, on the day of the recognition luncheon, my friend called at 6 a.m. and needed some unexpected help. Other than the luncheon, I was available and glad to help her. (To the volunteers who organized it, I am truly sorry for skipping it. It was a nice gesture.)

The opportunity met her needs, enriched our bonds of friendship, and made me feel productive and useful. These positives were the most important recognition for me. While it is nice to be appreciated, most of us do not volunteer for the recognition.

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Our family takes a Finnish Sauna every Monday night, boys and girls separate of course. We work in our yard together on Saturday mornings. We eat pulla bread for breakfast every Sunday morning (see recipe here tomorrow). Family prayers always take place on our colorful, round rug from Garnet Hill. We ask and answer The Question at the dinner table. After Sunday dinners, we take a walk together—the same route every time.

Creating ritual in the early years of the United States was as important as creating rules of law:

Ritual—defined as “a public ceremonial affirmation of community”— satisfies a deep collective human need . . . The only ritual built into the American system is the presidential inauguration, as decreed by the Constitution. Through its First Lady (Dolley Madison) the United States took its first tentative steps toward constructing national rituals, and embraced a national identity.

Catherine Allgor
A Perfect Union:
Dolly Madison
and the Creation of the American Nation

I have discovered I am the “First Lady” of my family to set routines, rituals and traditions that create a family identity. I don’t mean the traditions related to holidays (which seem to be initiated more by marketers than mothers). I mean those regular actions we do together in the course of ordinary family life that make us unique and bind us together.

What are your family rituals, routines or traditions? How important are they in creating your family circle?

Normally, I post polls on Fridays, but this “poll” topic is more conducive to comments, so please leave a comment below with your answers to these questions.

After reading about sugar overload at Women’s Health from a link on Evolving Mom and hearing about Minna’s Sugar Strike, I consciously watched and reduced my own sugar intake.

Before I go any further I must warn that the rest of this post, the poll, and the ensuing comments may not meet the standard of inspiring (in a good way) that I routinely seek in my posts.

But, today is Friday, and Friday is a dessert night in our house. I have an undeniable sweet tooth. I have learned to limit myself in different ways throughout my life, with varied results. Only after I left my parent’s home could they dedicate a whole drawer in the kitchen to all the varied flavors of Twizzlers.

In my own home, now, the inspired balance of eating some sugar but not too much, is still not easy, especially as a wife and a mother who gets cranky at 3 p.m. every afternoon and loves baking for her family.

However, setting particular days aside as dessert nights seems to help me and my family limit the indulgences (to at least three or four days a week instead of seven). Thus, I am contemplating Rice Krispies Treats or Warm Brownie Pudding Cake.

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