My ninth-grade government teacher taught me the term “zero sum economy.”  As I understand it, a zero-sum economy has no ability to grow and expand. A finite amount of wealth exists, and if one person has it, another does not. America, I learned, is not a zero sum economy. This country possesses the capacity for its citizens to prosper without displacing the wealth of others.

People say that raising children is expensive, and it is. But the true currency of parenthood is time. The minutes available in a 24-hour period are zero-sum. There’s no expanding the limits of a day; it’s a celestial thing. So we trade time advancing our careers for the ability to be with our young children, or vice versa. We trade our desire to read and rest for chores so that our homes don’t descend into filth. We trade hygiene for sleep. We trade outings with friends for the time to cook homemade meals so our food-allergic children will be safe. We trade reason for intuition, and social acceptance for authenticity.

If we were to pull apart the seams where our choices meet, the edges would be imprecise and filled with gaps and pockets. We may choose to work, but there are days when the babysitter doesn’t show or our child has a fever. Snagged in the seam: the decision to suffer our boss’ consternation for a personal day at the pediatrician’s. We may choose to stay home with our children, but may unravel from the lack of adult contact and alone-time.

There are also swaths of life where no seams exist between the known and unknown: the newborn months, times of change in family structure, periods of illness, moves to new towns, even school spring breaks and summer vacations. Peer between the threads and watch us dart to re-establish routine. Even on regular days, we frey when we question the trades we’ve made. The seam-rippers, Guilt and Longing, stand ready to tear us apart. Relatives and friends stitch us back together with their calls and casseroles. These acts of kindness remind us that while our time is zero-sum, our capacity for love and courage is not.

“Sell your cleverness and buy uncertainty.” -  Rumi.

A homemade "play place" using toys and furniture cushions

“Every act of creation is first an act of destruction.”    –Pablo Picasso.

Neat homes are overrated. Sure, it’s good to tidy up at the end of the day. Putting toys and clothes away is a good habit to instill in children. But there’s a place and time for everything, including messes. As an artist who spent a few years being blocked, I’ve learned that joy and flow are among the most precious commodities in life. To most young children, experiencing joy and creating without inhibition is a natural state of being. Encouraging creation in our home is among my greatest pleasures. I believe that respect and self-actualization are the birthright of every person, regardless of age.

"Welcome to the Play Place." Sign made for the door.

I’ve been fortunate to learn about Maria Montessori’s approach to early childhood education. She advocated the careful observation of children, of how they question, learn, and solve problems on their own.  I love to observe my children while they’re creating. They are like radio towers receiving transmissions from the divine.  If the house becomes quiet for a few minutes, I tiptoe to the room where the children are and peek in to make sure they’re safe. I avoid being noticed. What I often find is my son and daughter, heads bent, working silently on a tent structure or on a  book they’ve fashioned, authored, and bound. I respect the sanctity of their concentration.

Do not disturb.

Sometimes when our children’s friends visit, they remark (to their parent’s mortification) that we don’t have many toys at our house. We actually have a lot of toys, but we cycle them through so our children can move about freely in their home.  They need room–actual square footage–to make their string sculptures that stretch across the dining room chairs, around the stair railing, and over to the living room sofa. Within this one “mess,” they’ve practiced measuring, unrolling, cutting and tying string–all fine motor skills. They’ve assessed distances and solved simple spans. They’ve analyzed the intersections of different materials. They’ve directed their own efforts. Most importantly, they’ve taken a vision in their minds and manifested it in the physical world. It would be difficult to design an activity that could accomplish so many worthwhile ends.

And then there’s the beauty! The beauty of what the children have made, and the radiance of their faces when they share their work with those they love. A little hand grabs mine: “come look what we made!”  I’m tugged towards the new project. What will it be? By now they know not to draw on the walls, so there’s no worry. We arrive and I sit on the floor so they can tell me everything, eye-to-eye. . “A rollercoaster launcher, you say? Yes, I see!”  Their work is important, welcome and worthy. It’s a fine mess. The finest.

Outdoor string "web" sculpture

Costume made from duct tape, colander and cereal boxes

Flying reindeer, using packaging tape stretched up at an angle between doorknob and chair

—tated lyrics can be heard around our house a lot nowadays. Not only our usual bungled refrains and creative interpretations of mumbly songs. Lately we’re consciously cooking up new lyrics for old songs, particularly those that hail from less-enlightened times.  In June I took my daughter to see a local theater company’s production of  “The Sound of Music.” Ever since, my husband and I start the day flipping eggs to “Climb Ev’ry Mountain” and shut down the house at night to “The Lonely Goatherd.” It’s more than a nervous system can take–especially when some of the content is uber-dated. My girl’s especially partial to “You are Sixteen, Going on Seventeen,” which by any measure, is a great song. But the message, holy crap! I can’t take Liesel’s smack about needing someone older and wiser telling her what to do. Not sitting down, anyway. That’s where the concise and impactful words “NOT!, LOTS! an HA!” come in most handy. The timing works out just fine, too. Enjoy this revisionist version with your little girl or boy soon…
(Rolf)
You are 16 going on 17
Baby its time to think
Better beware
Be canny and careful
Baby you’re on the brink
(Liesel) NOT!

(Rolf)
You are 16 going on 17
Fellows will fall in line
Eager young lads
And grueways and cads
Will offer you fruit and wine

Totally unprepared are you
To face a world of men
Timid and shy and scared are you
Of things beyond your ken

(Liesel) NOT!
You need someone
Older and wiser
Telling you what to do
I am 17 going on 18
I’ll take care of you
(Liesel) NOT!

(Leisl)
I am 16 going on 17
I know that i’m naive
Fellows I meet may tell me I’m sweet

And willingly I believe

NOT!

I am 16 going on 17 innocent as a rose
Bachelor dandies
Drinkers of brandies

What do I know of those -LOTS!

Totally unprepared am I
To face a world of men
Timid and shy and scared am I
Of things beyond my ken
HA!

I need someone
Older and wiser
Telling me what to do
You are 17 going on 18
I’ll depend on you ”

NOT!