Complicated as Pie

Nathan and I made these lemon meringue pies a couple of days ago. It was a boring day in the middle of a boring week, in the middle of a boring month. Nathan wanted to make lemon meringue pies because Amelia Bedelia made lemon meringue pies in his library book.

The pies were, if I do say so myself, delicious. I made 3 total, but by the time I took this picture I had already given one away to my friend, whose blog (side note) I want to plug right now. If you like scrapbooking, click on that link.

Anyway, in typical Shannon fashion, a pie cannot just be a pie. A pie had me thinking about a couple of my latest issues.

Issue 1: Why am I eating pie?
Remember how I said I was doing Weight Watchers? Yeah, umm. I fell off the wagon and I can't quite climb back on. At this point, I'm just figuring I'll restart some form of healthy eating/exercising after Labor Day, when we're back in a routine. Right now there's no structure in our lives in the form of school or activities for Nathan, and the gym has drained the pool/closed the group exercise studio for its annual "spiff up" week. So I just feel like there is no routine, and I'm just stringing together a bunch of days, and I think the point of this paragraph was Weight Watchers, but now I'm off on a tangent. The point is, no schedule, no dieting, no routine. Which brings me to Issue 2 ...

Issue 2: Why don't I have better things to do with my time than make 3 pies in the middle of a random Monday?
Now, let me just state that the pie-making was a great bonding time with Nathan. (If you can call me standing over a hot stove while yelling at Nathan to stop sticking his hands in flour "bonding time.") If I was one of those braggy moms, I might even go so far as to say that baking provides a sort of rudimentary math lesson. And at the very least, he learned how to crack an egg (well, toddler-style), so maybe he won't grow up to be as clueless in the kitchen as his, cough, father. I know my mother-in-law tried with Bill. Just the other day we came across a photo of little Bill in the kitchen making cookies. And all the other men in his family cook. It's just that young Bill developed an interest in other things, like reading and board games. Because those are really useful when we're starving. How come for a man, cooking can just be an "interest"? What if I wasn't interested in cooking? Who would make dinner for our family? Ooh, feminist tangent.

Anyway, what was I saying before I painted myself as a martyr and implied that we have no take-out restaurants in the area?

Ahh, yes, why don't I have anything better to do than make pies in the middle of the day on a Monday?

Now, let me say that pie-making is actually very important. Aside from the afore-mentioned benefit of mother-son bonding, I think pie makes people very happy. I gave the pies away to two friends, and we kept one for ourselves. Now, assuming a pie can be cut into 8 slices, that means a total of 24 people could potentially get some enjoyment out of my pies. (See, there goes that math lesson again.) I suspect it was more like 6 people, but that just means those people get 4 doses of happiness, right? So, see, pies are very useful, because the pursuit of happiness is one of the most important pursuits there is. Just ask Will Smith. Or, you know, the Declaration of Independence.

But, in our society, you are not useful if you make people happy. You are not useful if you keep a child alive for another day. You are useful if you make money.

I have had this sense lately that I need to make money. I have not been paid anything, not one cent, since October of 2008. I wasn't even on jury duty, for crying out loud.

But, what to do? I know I don't want to go back to full-time work downtown. That was one end of an extreme on a continuum, the other extreme being what I'm doing now for work, which is nothing. How much would I love to cobble together one of those new hybrid flexible careers that can be defined by acronyms, like WAHM or PT WOHM?

But, what to do? I could try my hand at freelance editing, but I'm finding the breaking-in process daunting. (I'm not so much a "strike out on my own" type. If there's not a clear-cut application process, I tend to give up.) And is that what I want to do?

Short answer: no. I want to be a flower-arranger. And if attempting to find freelance work in a field where you have experience is daunting, imagine doing it in a field where you have no experience. Like, "Here's my resume. As you can see I have been an elementary teacher and a textbook editor. I'm very qualified to arrange flowers."

And anyway, the economy is bad, and there aren't any flower-arranging jobs. Though let me say that I'm thankful that this minor setback to my career-of-fancy is the worst problem I have in this economy.

I also like to write ... but. You know, you can't just go and put in your application at the writing factory. It takes years and years of rejection and tenacity before you even eke out an inkling of a living as a writer.

And then I just get overwhelmed with all the possibilities. I decided to simplify this decision and ask my kid:

Me: Nathan, you know how Daddy's job is to teach law school? What should Mommy do for a job?

Nathan: But then, who will watch me? I don't think you should have a job.

Somehow this irrational 3-year-old seemed to hit the nail right on the head. Or at least, one of the nails. How will we handle childcare if I work?

I'm very pro-daycare, but I'm anti- putting Nathan back in full-time daycare because it gutted me emotionally. On the other hand, it makes no sense for me to have basically removed myself from productive society for the sake of one human being. But somebody has to watch him. I can't just leave him to fend for himself because I'm being unproductive.

I realize I'm putting the cart before the horse here. I should maybe secure employment before I figure out childcare. It's just that, at this point, daycare is something to consider, and that just adds a whole other wrinkle to the already daunting question about what to do in the future. And it's not really so much a question of who would watch him, as it is a question of whether or not it's worth it for somebody to watch him. The question of whether it's worth it financially is the most
concrete manifestation of this issue, but there's also sort of a more nebulous question of "Is it worth my time and energy to juggle all this stuff, just in the name of being a productive member of society who has it all?"

Now, of course I'm not the only mother who asks these questions. I can practically hear every mother in America asking these questions, right this very minute. I'm aware that, by virtue of socio-economic status and the freedoms offered to modern women, I am lucky enough to have the luxury of choice in these matters.

But the uncertainty of it all is so daunting. And so instead I make pies.