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Health & Fitness

Stunted Growth

The garden withered but the children flourished and now we try to help a baby in need.

I am sad to report that the summer garden patch that I shared with a friend on the Elmhurst Park District Meadow was a bust.

A large section of the center of the plot seemed to be extra hard clay, right where most of the tomatoes were planted. If the land had been in my own yard, I would have started out by properly amending the soil and creating the kind of earth in which a tomato would like to grow. My garden partner declared the scene a case of “stunted growth.” One day, she even planted new, larger tomato plants in the plot. It was all for naught.

This year, I planted far more tomato plants than I ever had, resulting in my smallest tomato harvest ever. I tried, really, I did, but weeds took over and plants withered. It was downright embarrassing to see the neighboring plots lush with peppers, beans and squash. I can now add GD, “Gardening Dysfunction,” to the list of what ails me.

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The two highlights of the season were cucumbers and flowers. My family enjoyed several fresh cucumbers and bouquets of cosmos and zinnias. I loved having vases of cut flowers on the kitchen table.

I’m pretty easy to please, so I’m not truly complaining about the garden adventure. It’s more like moping. And I’m not even very good at that. While tending to three growing children and one part time job, I’m supposed to be finding a job that provides health insurance. I do not have leisure to sulk. Being one disease or mishap away from disaster is no fun. Half of the time, I fear that the stress of my hyper-thrifty lifestyle will cause a dreadful illness that would only be curable if I had good health insurance.

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The other half finds me filled with joy, taking my kids to the ribbon cutting at the new playground in Wilder Park, visiting beaches on Lake Michigan with them in the summer, spending time with extended family in Iowa, cheering for my Elmhurst Eagles cheerleader, and now volunteering for the Hawthorne PTA as a box-top mom for two classrooms. I am home to greet them almost every day when the school bus pulls up to our corner. Monthly late start mornings are no problem for us, although I do weather quite a few complaints about the need for meals at home 99% of the week!

My three little sprouts are very happy with their mother’s one-job schedule. When they get a bit cranky about not having all the new toys or clothes they want, we visit the Goodwill store at North Avenue and Route 83. They like the adventure of not knowing what may turn up at the thrift store. Once, last year, my eldest pulled an American Girl Doll Bitty Baby from a Goodwill bin. The thrift bug bit her that day. The mantra of the second hand shop devotee is “new stock daily.” One never knows what treasures may be in store.

Lately, I’ve been taking fitness classes at the Elmhurst YMCA and I spend quite a bit of time running on treadmills there. They have free childcare for members and my toddler adores the babysitting staff. The exercise machines have personal television screens attached to them. I tend to watch shows like House Hunters and House Hunters International as I attempt to zone out and achieve some kind of runner’s high. (By the way, that never happens.)

I have become much more aware of how spoiled Americans are. Egad, people have fits over granite countertops and hardwood flooring. They want master suites far away from their children. They want game rooms, dens, media rooms, family rooms and “man caves,” all in the same house! They require bathrooms that Europeans from crowded cities could live in. (Don’t get me started on what Americans think of bidets!) I saw an episode where a woman ruled out an entire home because it had a powder room off of the family room. “Disgusting,” she said. The other bathrooms were on the second floor of the building. She was a newlywed with no children. All I could think was “Lady, just wait until your child looks green in the face and careens towards you in your family room. Good luck making it up the stairs in time.”

A lot of people in our country have, or want to have, a lot of stuff and a lot of space to put that stuff. They want big houses and bigger things. Case in point: my coffeemaker broke. I took a 30 percent off coupon over to Kohl’s last month to buy a new one. Coffeemakers are now huge brewing systems with more settings and buttons than I need. They take up way too much counter space for my 100-year-old house. I left the store empty-handed. Instead, last week, I bought a 3-cup French Press at Target for $16.80. You don’t need a filter; I’m saving the environment. Plus, my husband has now achieved caffeine nirvana. For a man who prefers to brew his java in 1930's glass vacuum pots, that's saying a lot. ( will brew French press coffee for you if you want to try it.)

We have enough, as it turns out. With food stamps that allow me to go to the grocery store, barring a medical situation, we can survive for a few more months.

That’s pretty unusual in this world when you think about it. I can’t even watch the news coverage of children starving in Somalia (you can try, here’s a link.) I’ve lost track of the number of recent earthquakes that have devastated towns and almost entire countries. Knowing that real desperate poverty exists in the world makes my own woes look rather flimsy.

In an effort to both teach my kids the value of money and to show them that they can help someone else’s life in a meaningful way, I recently placed two envelopes in front of them. One envelope is marked “Spring Break.” If we save enough money in it by next March, they can enjoy a day and night at a water park hotel.

The other is marked “Feed a Starving Baby.”

Many reputable charitable organizations exist to distribute food to hungry people. I gave the kids a catalogue from Samaritan’s Purse that shows you various worthy projects in need of donations. For only $9, we can feed a starving baby for a week. If our family has enough to eat, I think, how could we not help another person feed their child? It truly is the least we can do.

A night of Spring Break may or may not happen but I am glad to report that we’ve got $9.05 in the baby-feeding fund. My older kids receive a $2 weekly allowance. So far, they have offered up their nickels, dimes, pennies and occasional quarters. I’d like to sell their Halloween candy to the dentist but I don’t think that’s going to happen.

And so I find myself in a strange situation. Working, but not full time, at a musical job that I really enjoy. As far as salary and benefits go, I have stunted career growth. I can’t buy new boots or a flat screen TV. Our consumer society would call me a failure, and I should feel very bad about that.

But, I think I'm pretty happy. I have amended my soul. The garden that nurtures my children has been well tended this summer. As I attempt to figure out what to do next, I’ll labor at keeping the weeds at bay. During the holiday season, we will try to help someone else’s child live because they also deserve the chance to grow.

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