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Photo credit: Emily Rumsey Photography If you had told me when I had my first that I would eventually nurse in public without a cover, I would have blushed. Deeply. I hated nursing SuperBoy in public. I rarely went in public with him when he was hungry, and given that I didn’t feed on demand, but rather tried to put him on a schedule, I could predict this hangry time pretty well. When I did have to nurse him in public, I’d drape a cover over him, me, us, and with lots of kicking limbs and wails from both of us, attempt to do it thoroughly. Then burp him. Then commence on the other side, all whilst wearing disposal nursing pads that I went through like new moms do articles online about how to nurse in public. But at home? No cover. My brother & dad had a shock to their systems. My brother would make eye contact only while using his palm flattened out, thumb down, palm facing me to block the site {and sight} of my actual nursing parts. My dad would hurry through the kitchen and ask my mom Errrr is she going to always do that in here? Even my older female relatives would gently talk about how when they nursed, they would go upstairs or in a different room from their own father or brothers or uncle, because, well, it was proper. My response was that my baby didn’t like to nurse with a cover and I had to feed…
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Having three kids under five, staying at home with them, no one being in school, means I have very little alone time with each child individually. When I had two kids, I would stagger their afternoon naps so I could sneak in that extra time with the youngest, just truly playing with her and reading to her and smiling at her. Like, looking her in the eyes and smiling. Because for me the long days alone with the kids, especially when they were younger, were hard. Hard to feel like I accomplished anything beyond the basics, and hard to even feel like I was getting quality time with them. Ironically, although I have three kids now, and SuperBoy is much more into exploring the world and not just eat-diaper-nap-read-repeat, my quality time with them has gone way up because I’m more aware of wanting and needing it. A few years back I gave you a sample day with two kids, and last year I described my day with three, and maybe I talked about my day recently too. For me, to avoid the days blurring together into one big tantrum scream fest where I’m diving into my iPhone for a little break, I’ve been mindful of one-on-one time with them. SuperBoy His love languages are verbal affirmation & physical touch. I’m also all verbal affirmation over here. We snuggle in the morning when he comes into our room, thank you, king-size-bed, and when he gets up from his afternoon rest/naptime. He processes his…
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I hear from a sweet girlfriend she is in labor. I’m at home. I sling the baby on my hips and go upstairs. The older kids clamor what kind of baby will she have? is she going to want a chocolate cake? while following me up the stairs that creak, down the hallway that’s dark, and into the Sitting Room, my work studio. I scan the room in a hurry and blink, in that second recalling the memory of where I safely stowed the matches out of their reach. In a few steps, I recover the matches and light one. The baby tries hard to burn his hands but after setting him down to toddle, I cup the match and my favorite candle made by another sweet friend. Lit, it lets off the sweetest smell and the three kids huddle to watch it flick flack. I’m holding the space for this girlfriend in labor. A lit candle, powerful but vulnerable, makes the perfect analogy for the laboring mama. Her body can do this. It was made to do this. Her breath in & out brings that baby closer to her arms through his or her biggest journey of their life. Don’t you wish we could remember how it felt to kick off the top of the uterus? To head down from our warm cocoon into the bright cold world? Or to feel the surgeon’s rubbery hands lifting us to our mama’s welcoming eyes? Probably best those memories are in our bones and…
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my face, that is. My faulty eyes. New glasses. Because mine snapped in half. The day I was going out of town. Wearing my contacts and then glasses (old prescription!!) from college for a few weeks was brutal. My eyes weren’t used to not having the ease and peace of glasses (current scripts, that is, too). I kinda loathe my contacts. Literally the day my glasses broke, Firmoo emailed me and asked if I wanted to review a pair. They also graciously offered a few things for you, too. Skip past me wearing my glasses, as I do every day, looking awkward in my yard. Earrings: vintage from my mom. Top: clothing swap with girlfriends, Max Studio, similar one here. Jeans: Seven for All Mankind: NEW and they actually fit. Remember my complaints about muffin top? Back in business here with these. They’re on sale here. Shoes: Cole Haan over here. Bought them as a bridesmaid and loved them ever since! Dress: hand-me-down from Molly from Three Dots. Similar one here. Necklace: birthday gift from Molly from Reverie Drift, a high school friend of ours! Hand crafted beauties. Shoes: Hermes, used from a consignment in Paris available on eBay. Why is there a scary bug on my arm?? I selected these ones but was kinda wondering about these too in brown until I thought for a second second and realized black looks better for a big forehead & nose like me 🙂 There’s a feature where you can upload your mugshot…
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Confession: I’m a birth story junky. I just can’t help it. I love reading about the fear, the joy, the trauma, the drama. So many late nights of all three pregnancies have involved reading other moms’ journeys on the interwebs. {Tell me you’ve read through the linkup over at Grace’s!} I just celebrated my daughter & my birthday. We share a birthday! How awesome is that. I love writing mine as well, processing the sorrows and triumphs. {SuperBoy’s || SweetPea’s || BabyLove’s}. So when Jill contacted me to tell me about her project Yellow Light, Write, a Twin Cities based writing workshop that guides women to write their journeys of motherhood and birthing, I was all um LOVE THIS KINDA THANG!!! So we did a little Q&A to tell you about what she’s got going on, because it’s really really wonderful and a real asset to our birthing community! Find her on the web || Facebook || email {jill (at) yellowlightwrite.com} You began this writing workshop for parents to understand their journey into parenthood and tell their tale. Who comes to the workshop and what do you see happen to them while working through this journey? The workshop is for mothers of all ages. I’m often asked if it’s “too late” to get a story down on paper…because 2 or 10 or 20 years have passed. I can not be more emphatic about the fact that, if this is something that resonates with you in the slightest, you are welcomed with open arms. The workshop is not…
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told to you by someone who struggles massively with over-commitment. It’s always been a teeter-totter for me. Do, feel good about it, feel great about it, feel burnt out about it, crash & burn. Revitalize and start again. All like a phoenix. Oh, how poetic I art. In my own attempt to simplify, and not in that new trendy minimalism way were you bid your material possessions adieu softly whispered as you caress them on their way out the door (did you read Indiana’s hilarious post on Marie Kondo??), but to cut back to my balancing point, I’ve discerned three truisms about coping with overcommitment. 1) Do you have time to clip your nails or q-tip your ears? I have very basic (read: low) hygiene standards. Bathing regularly is easily met by a small baby who likes to play in the bathtub but anything above and beyond that: hair styling, moisturizing, makeup (what’s that?), taming eyebrows, caring for or painting nails, etc, don’t happen very often. When a new opportunity presents (like three did this past month–three things I really wanted to say yes to and had to say no instead!!!!!), I first ask myself, do I want to do this? If the answer is yes, then I ask, but am I clipping my nails and cleaning out my ears right now? The answer to that is almost always no. So that tells me to decline regretfully. 2) Accept there are two kinds of friends: low maintenance and high maintenance and no…
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