veganpagan

...was what my mom called me when I was a) having a candlelit ritual in the backyard, b) extolling the virtues of tofu and condemning the meat industry, c) telling her about my "girlfriend" in Pittsburgh, or d) being otherwise Not Of the Mainstream, at least for my itty bitty suburb in Appalachia.

She would accuse me, on occasion, of being a nonconformist because everyone else was doing it. The sexuality, the religion, the food choices- all for coolness, y'all. This infuriated by 19 year old belly pierced black dyed hair sportin' self very much. The piercings and the hair, sure. Superficial. But give a kid a little credit.

Exit mom, enter Bu. He tells me I'm non traditional for the sake of being non traditional. (Wasn't I supposed to marry my father not my mother?) He told me that when I planned to hyphenate my name. (Turns out it's an annoyingly long name, so no. I opted for his short & sweet surname, and took my maiden name as my middle name. Please don't tell my grandma. My middle name was her name.) He told me that during intense, long arguments with pregnant me about vegetarianism and circumcision. He also informed me yesterday that I am too old to dye my hair purple. (Just a few streaks? Very sophisticated purple hair it would be...)

While people I love are wondering why I'm so far out man, I'm wondering how/when I got so tame. Feeling very soccermom, having tattoo lust again. Is it motherhood? Thirty-ness? I just feel very um, restrained lately. Boring, actually. Like I'm not expressing myself at Full Heidi Strength. Possibly related in a convoluted way to my not producing (fine) art and missing school.

As an extension of this obsession with lack of hip, I think it's a huge tragedy that Molly has no cool clothes like the ones Drew is sporting. Why am I drowning in tiny pink things? So I was doing the online version of window shopping, and at Baby Wit I saw a T shirt that says "They're raising me gay." I told Bu if I were a single mom Molly'd totally have that shirt. He surprised me by laughing and saying that if we didn't have the Mormon grandies around she could have the shirt.

I don't know if I want my the Boue wearing something political, although this rocks, but I have got to get some funk up in her wardrobe for her birthday. I'm definitely earmarking some of the income tax return for her.

And this might be one of the most superficial posts I've written to date. Tomorrow I'll update you on the joy of discovering non-toxic nail polish at the health food store and how Honest Tea chai is not sweet enough. Just because I wanted organic doesn't mean I wanted you to skimp on the yum, peeps. Argh.

touchstone

This is an ode to my Bu. Bu who drags me away from my computer when I am ready to explode with stress and makes me go hike up the hill across from our property. Bu who holds me when I'm sobbing for the most inane reasons and doesn't ask why. Bu who used to live in a tent near the New River and guide whitewater rafting trips and who is like a masculine version of a water nymph, and who will snort at me for writing that.

It was an amazing day, and we went to the woods and he told me about playing there when he was little, and the dogs played. Mollybird was at church with the grandies and it was the first "date" we've had in ages. I found a little stone to take home to help ground me when the work stressed me out too much. Looking for the perfect stone was fun and silly and I was delighted like a little kid on a treasure hunt when I found the right one.

I had little anxiety relapses afterward, but Bu still helped immensely. He's an amazing force of calm and centeredness when my energy's scattered and crazy. He steered me through the hardest time in my life, and I'm so amazed at the way he manages to do this without patronizing me or letting me sink. Just perfect balance and support.

mother of the freakin' year

And you thought Britney was the most pathetic redneck mother in the country...

Well, in my defense, my human baby is accounted for and it's been 7 years since I shaved my head under the influence of a fifth of Jack Daniels.

But still: Animal control just dropped off my dogs and issued me four citations, two for each errant dog. They were "unconfined/no leash" and I couldn't show him licenses. I don't know if we have licenses or not, but I'm thinking we don't. The supreme irony is that I was telling Bu we should start walking them out with leashes to poo so we can confine the lumps to one area that Molly can avoid when she's big enough to play outside. He thought I was insane and silly. No one in our holler* does that- the big dogs run the neighborhood pretty much.

So now we have to go to court (at least $65) and show our licenses (who knows how much that costs) and proof of rabies shots (have they gotten those lately? Gods I suck. I have no fucking idea.)

The officer also informed me they had skin problems and I told him they'd just been to the vet and were being treated- they both have nasty allergies. So now I'm dreading telling Bu, because we already are in the hole for this month, and also I feel like the skankiest shittiest most careless trashy dog-mommy in the world.

And Baby Einstein's over so I have to go read to the baby for 8 hours to alleviate my TV guilt.

*that's WV for "hollow," here meaning the cheap real estate in the valley between the hills where the nicer houses are located. I'm feeling acutely socio-economically bitter today since we don't know where our mortgage payment will come from. My apologies for the downer after my Rainbow Goddamn Brite post yesterday:)

home, a cozy little prison?

David Byrne has visited Savannah, Georgia recently, and made me wistful for that amazing city. I've only been once, but Shane and I fell in love. The architecture and garden squares, spanish moss looking all lazy and drapey and sexy everywhere, the sultry heat just cast a spell on me. Something reminded me of the New Orleans of my imagination (never been there much to my disappointment.)

We talk about moving there when we daydream together. I vascillate between completely loving the relatively small town we live in, and feeling smothered my the familiarity. I love that our families are close, and I love the friendliness and comfort of this place, but sometimes I feel so sheltered and ignorant of the real world. I'm sure a lot of this feeling comes from living 10 or so miles from the house I grew up in and isn't a West Virginia thing necessarily. I've only ever lived one other place- Pittsburgh for a brief alternate universe of a time- and I feel like I'm missing so much culture and experience. In ways I feel insulated here. Time's strange in Appalachia. The mood of the people of older generations seems like it's the same as their grandparents' grandparents. Very slow, resistant to change, and conservative. My generation has the advantage of living in two communities- the global environment technology has created and the small old one we were raised in.

I love it and hate it. I think how lucky Molly will be to grow up in a safe tame world, then I remember how we are ranked 49th in quality of education. I have reveries of living on the east coast- the left coast, where I'd feel at home with the liberal green attitude that's so alien here still. Then my love of the earth reminds me how much I'd miss the green hills and little wandering creeks. Shane hates that idea, but moving to Savannah or the Outer Banks sounds good to him. The ocean would be a more than fair trade for the mountains I think. When I'm on Hatteras Island, where my mom's ashes were washed into the sea, I feel more at home in myself than I do here.

Beneath all these musing is the reality of our situation. We feel trapped by our bank account- if we could travel more, would we be happier to come home? How would we make a move if we wanted to? We also know Molly will be starting school in a few very short years. We'd rather be settled for her- someplace else or here. And what about the grandies, who see her every other day now. How could we take her away from them? But are we hindering her by staying here? I hate thinking I'm doing things by default. Like I'm not choosing anything, I'm just letting circumstance do it for me. If we have a choice some day when money's coming more easily, and we decide it's best to be here, we'll be here on purpose and that's wonderful. I'm just feeling trapped because our options in so many areas are severely limited.

snow, a party, milk & cookies

Snow pretty.

We may get up to 4 inches, which is unheard of lately. When I was a kid, West Virginia had real winters with the sledding and the long undies and the cocoa and the school closings. Now we rarely have actual coverage. I hear the phrase “global warming” daily, which is good as far as awareness-raising. I am not, as I’ve previously whined, a fan of winter, but I’m only opposed to actually living in it myself. I think a good four-season climate is a lovely idea, and that people should be allowed to experience a nice Appalachian winter so they can sit by a fire writing me postcards in Savannah or Key West or something.

Actually, snow is lovely, and I hope we get a good thick blanket of pure white beauty and that the schools, and therefore the clinic, are closed tomorrow.
Yesterday was a fun Mommy-networking day. We went to a birthday party and I schmoozed with another nursing mama. We discovered that nursing in public is easier in numbers, and that after we proudly dropped bra, neither of our daughters would nurse due to the extreme excitement of Dora balloons, juice, and toddlers running amok. I went fishing in Molly’s mouth for a gooey gummed-up piece of party hat I didn’t notice she’d been eating, and avoided her choking to death, which is always nice. I talked to a mom of four-month old twins- her toddler was the birthday girl- who is nearly losing her mind (understandably) and I convinced her to let me help her out with some babysitting or something sometime. Both nursing moms (those twins have never had formula and their mom is so proud) I talked to are having supply problems, so I’m baking a big batch of magic milk-enhancing cookies*. It’s my first attempt at this recipe, so we’ll call it an experiment and hope it fares better than the banana oatmeal bread I ruined this week.

A la Noel at Breastfeedingisnormal.org Their site's down for maintenence but they have a mailing list subscribe button.