avoid the dirty dozen and embrace the clean fifteen<\/a>.<\/p>\nOn Friday night, I sat down to plan meals without gluten and still remain within our $150 weekly grocery budget. When I was finally done, I added up the totals: $174. So I went back and fiddled with the menu, then added them again: $158. One more time: $161. This time I made the hard decisions, cutting out eggs some mornings (that one always hurts, since eggs are such an important source of nutrition), skipping tea for the week, leaving out the dark chocolate I\u2019ve been savoring in something resembling moderation. Still, I was a few dollars over, and it was time to put the kids to bed, and Lincoln was crying, and I was frustrated.<\/p>\n
The Ogre was brushing teeth when I set the menu aside to help with bedtime. I got the kids in pajamas, picked up Lincoln and started nursing him while directing the older minions to pick a story. They meandered toward the bookshelf but got distracted by doing headstands, then Charlotte fell and crashed into a chair, let out a wail which woke up Lincoln and made him wail in turn, and I snapped. \u201cGet a book RIGHTTHISSECOND and do not do ANYTHING else. Sit down and wait and be absolutely silent while I get Lincoln back to sleep. SILENT! I MEAN IT!\u201d I practically snarled at them, trying to keep my voice down because loud noises push Lincoln into hysterics while still trying to convey how irritated I was.<\/p>\n
The Ogre gave me the \u201cyou must calm down right now\u201d look that I hate so much, and I calmed down grudgingly. I read the kids a story, during which I managed to turn my sour attitude around so that bedtime blessing and prayers were not a rushed, soulless affair. Lincoln mercifully fell asleep again and I turned back to the menu, sighing audibly.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou know, you\u2019re never this tense and irritable when we have more money,\u201d the Ogre casually observed. \u201cYou mean I\u2019m always like this? Because we never have more money,\u201d I replied bitterly. I immediately regretted the venom in my words and apologized. The Ogre forgave me and let it go, but I kept thinking about it.<\/p>\n
He was right, of course. And this week is particularly difficult, with the post-Christmas dearth of funds, the tax hikes, the new burden of trying to eat gluten-free, and the fact that we used up almost all of our food reserves during Christmas and New Year\u2019s. The pantry and fridge were bare on Friday night (the night before grocery shopping day), and the kids had popcorn for lunch three days in a row. We had a stack of bills on the desk that I was dreading opening. The insurance company refused to pay for Lincoln\u2019s surgery and wouldn\u2019t tell me why. Our new dental insurance covers even less of the extensive work I need done to fix my pregnancy-induced gingivitis. In juggling our budget for the new year, we had to face the fact that if we couldn\u2019t cut our expenses, we\u2019d have to take the girls out of dance classes. And we did the budget the night after spending $45 on something frivolous. The next day I was sick over that money that we needed elsewhere. And everywhere else we tried to cut, we seemed to find new things we had to pay for.<\/p>\n
I don\u2019t do suffering well. Whether it\u2019s pregnancy, migraines, a newborn, sleep-deprivation, or budgeting difficulties, I chafe against the burdens. It all seems so fundamentally unfair to me. Why should we have to work so hard, pinching and scraping, when others can just waltz into the grocery store and buy whatever they want?<\/p>\n
My parents weren\u2019t wealthy by any stretch of the imagination. They worked hard, my mom and my dad. My dad started several companies by day while waiting tables by night. My mom found ways to work from home so she could take care of us and bring in extra income. They sacrificed a lot to give us everything we needed, and quite a bit we simply wanted. Oddly, though, that didn\u2019t inspire a hard work ethic in me. It didn\u2019t help that things came easily to me. School, cheerleading, writing, even college was mostly a breeze. If I came up against something that was hard, I quit.<\/p>\n
My childhood was, perhaps, too comfortable. I didn\u2019t have to work hard, or even work at all, and things were given to me simply because I existed, and my parents loved me. I developed a sense of entitlement that runs deep. When things get hard I rend my garments, pour ashes on my head and run to the internet, so that all voices might be raised to share in my lamentation.<\/p>\n
When things get hard, the Ogre works harder. He laughs at the absurdity of rain on rain on rain. He teases me when I\u2019m angry, makes jokes while I despair, and reminds me over and over of all the wealth we have. Four healthy children. Health insurance and access to the excellent medical care, even if we can\u2019t always pay for it. Money for food, and enough money to get good food, even if it requires extra juggling and sacrifices. An actual house to rent instead of an apartment. A good school for our children. A job with a steady income. Our health. Our love. Each other.<\/p>\n
It may be less than many, but it\u2019s more than most. And I\u2019m starting to realize that I like the person this particular brand of suffering is making of me. Late Friday night, when I had just about given up on the grocery list, I found two frozen chicken carcasses and a bag of carrot, onion and celery ends deep in our freezer. I rejoiced at the prospect of homemade chicken stock to use in soups and sauces, which would bring our grocery bill right where it needed to be and provide our family with a little extra nutrition in the face of flu season.<\/p>\n
A year ago, I would never have saved the carrots, onions and celery bits. They would have been unceremoniously dumped into the trash can without a second thought. Two years ago I would have tossed the chicken carcass too. Three years ago I regularly threw out perfectly good leftovers because we just didn\u2019t want to eat them. Four years ago I routinely spent the same amount of money I spend now on groceries every week, and that was with just three of us to feed and significantly cheaper food, plus a total ignorance of grass-fed meat, cage-free organic eggs, or pesticide-laden produce. A pinched budget and a little bit of suffering is turning me into a better person by far than I ever had to be before\u2026a wife who respects her husband\u2019s hard work to make our money by making our money work hard for us. A mother who cares enough about her children\u2019s health to spend hours in the kitchen, to make everything at home instead of relying on the cheap, empty calories of packaged food, to figure out how to feed them healthy foods even if it means hard choices. A person who doesn\u2019t waste what she\u2019s given but takes care of it.<\/p>\n
I\u2019m not sorry (at the moment) that our finances are stretched to the limit. I\u2019m glad for the lessons we\u2019re learning, and I\u2019m determined to teach them to my children so they will grow up understanding that work may be hard, but it is good. I am<\/em> sorry that in the moments of difficulty that arise, I chafe at the burdens instead of bearing them joyfully. Because all I\u2019m really teaching my children right now is that life is hard, and it\u2019s okay to be miserable about it.<\/p>\nI made lots of silly New Year\u2019s Resolutions and promptly broke them all in the first week of the New Year. I like doing New Year\u2019s like that\u2026it gives me an out, so I can always say, \u201cwhatever I screw up this year, it won\u2019t hold a candle to the first week of the year.\u201d But this year I\u2019m going to focus on learning to be content no matter what life hands me, instead of allowing my happiness or lack thereof to depend on the ease of my circumstances. It\u2019s not a resolution for the year, because I\u2019m pretty sure it will take many years, maybe even a lifetime of years, to learn to find daily peace. So maybe it\u2019s a prayer. Or maybe it\u2019s just the first time I\u2019ve actually realized that no one is going to come fix everything and make my life easier, and waiting for that to happen is only making me a miserable mother who\u2019s raising miserable children.<\/p>\n
The only thing to do is to keep my chin up, laugh with the Ogre at the absurdity of rain on rain on endless rain, and sing when I work, even when my song comes through gritted teeth. Maybe especially then.<\/p>\n<\/body><\/html>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Only now, it isn\u2019t pregnancy-induced migraines and hospital horror stories. On Friday night I sat down to plan the week\u2019s menu and write the grocery list. I used to love this task\u2026perusing my favorite cooking websites, looking forward to trying new spices or cooking techniques, idly wondering what sort of wine would go best with […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1110,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1347","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"yoast_head":"\n
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On Friday night I sat down to plan the week's menu and write the grocery list.\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:url\" content=\"https:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/barefootandpregnant\/2013\/01\/i-still-suck-at-suffering.html\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:site_name\" content=\"Barefoot and Pregnant\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:published_time\" content=\"2013-01-14T15:58:51+00:00\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:modified_time\" content=\"2017-03-09T22:07:41+00:00\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:image\" content=\"http:\/\/wp.patheos.com.s3.amazonaws.com\/blogs\/barefootandpregnant\/files\/2013\/01\/Woman-Fainting.jpg\" \/>\n<meta name=\"author\" content=\"Calah Alexander\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:card\" content=\"summary_large_image\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:label1\" content=\"Written by\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data1\" content=\"Calah Alexander\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:label2\" content=\"Est. reading time\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data2\" content=\"9 minutes\" \/>\n<script type=\"application\/ld+json\" class=\"yoast-schema-graph\">{\"@context\":\"https:\/\/schema.org\",\"@graph\":[{\"@type\":\"WebPage\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/barefootandpregnant\/2013\/01\/i-still-suck-at-suffering.html\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/barefootandpregnant\/2013\/01\/i-still-suck-at-suffering.html\",\"name\":\"I Still Suck at Suffering\",\"isPartOf\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/barefootandpregnant\/#website\"},\"datePublished\":\"2013-01-14T15:58:51+00:00\",\"dateModified\":\"2017-03-09T22:07:41+00:00\",\"author\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/barefootandpregnant\/#\/schema\/person\/cbd5af11d9f73881b801bf2e07eb8757\"},\"description\":\"Only now, it isn't pregnancy-induced migraines and hospital horror stories. 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![\"\"](\"https:\/\/wp-media.patheos.com\/blogs\/sites\/225\/2013\/01\/Woman-Fainting.jpg\" "\\"Woman")
<\/a>