part two: the G word

Or, "In Which Heidi Rants Aimlessly about Embracing the Real Feminine."

Gender, girls, girliness. Pink shit, prissy princesses, Disney hyperfeminization, Barbie & Bratz, dolls & dresses, Gardisil & sex education. I've been swirling my thoughts about gender around in my brain for a couple of days in preperation for Blog for Gender Liberation Day.

I'm coming up with more questions than answers. My initial thought was about the paradox in my own beliefs... Wicca is so gendered, all about Mr. High Priest does this, Mz. High Priestess does that, perfect balance, blah blah blah. I reject and buy into it all at once. The dual nature of the universe is so evident. Gender is everywhere in nature. The thing is, it can be so obviously oppressive. There's an overlapping that traditional thought leaves little room to explore. Things transition, they sway, they defy categorization sometimes. A little expansion in our approach to gender would be such a positive thing.

Then I daydreamed about my superfical femininity in the shower. I am very girly compared to some. I adore long skirts, cute hair, getting flowers, and I am a silly, flirty personality most of the time. I revel in my body hair, though, and I only wear make-up twice or three times a year. I have series of artwork about how awesome my period and the moon are. I think of myself as celebrating a human/mammal femaleness. Soft round bloody milky hairy womanness. When I write that I'm so aware some people will be put off. Why?

The bulk of my musings are about being a woman, raising a daughter, in this time and place. Murky waters there, let me tell you. I want so much to allow her to find her own expression of girl-ness. At the same time, I find it exhausting to think about policing her environment. I have stacks of princess movies, that I loved as a kid, and of course I want to share them with her. I think dolls are mostly OK, but scantlity clad sexed up things will be banished.

The doll thing... I think dolls are wonderful. I can't think of anything more positive than nurturing to teach any child. I used to think I'd shy away from letting my daughter have dolls. I didn't want her to learn that her only worth as a woman is her potential to be a mother. Now that I am a mom in practice and not theory, I can't think of a more important set of skills to have. Learning to nurture and empathize and comfort are so important. It's not that girls need to be exposed to this less, it's that boys need it more.

I feel like I've written poorly organized essays instead of blogposts all day. Indulgent and weird? Back to the usual mommy blog tomorrow. Er.

Happiness = belly full of cookies.
Happiness = baby with cookies smeared on her face, nursing herself to sleep. Me, licking my finger to clean her face and feeling like a mama cat and swooning with quiet weekend lazy mama bliss.

I'm so overjoyed that my oatmeal cookies are medicinal. Added flaxseed meal for healthy fiber and fat, and brewer's yeast to team up with the oatmeal for to make more milkies. Molly's weight is worrying me a little. We had her nine month check up yesterday... damn, what day is it? Thursday and she's fallen in her weight range the last two visits. So, I'm trying to rev up production in the ol' nummins factories. I need to add another pumping session in at work too I guess. Our pediatric nurse is wonderful. She's an LC too, and she didn't recommend adding formula or an insane amount of solid food like so many doctors do. She actually told us that on my work days she should have her solids when I'm away so she can nurse more in the evenings. She suggested using a regular cup for her pumped milk, too. The grandies tried it today for me, but she spit a lot of it out. This kid is just not impressed with expressed milk. She's never going to sleep through the night.

I hosted a Mom's Night Out for my local online breastfeeding support group. We scrapbooked, to Bu's neverending amusement.

Bu: What are you and your friends doing tonight?
Me, scrubbing soap scum off shower doors: Scrapbooking, hangin' out.
Bu: Scrapbooking? [Mimes cutting and pasting with a scrunched girly face, cracks up laughing.]
Me: Yeh. So? It's fun.
Bu: You!? Scrapbooking? [Mocking, incredulous laughter.]
Me: What is so funny?
Bu: You're crafty.
Me: [Finally getting it...] Ooooh, you mean as opposed to artsy. As in feminist ragey paintings of demon goddesses slaying the forces of the patriarchy?
Bu: Yes. I don't know you anymore. You're a soccer mom.
Me: [Hissing.] Take that back!
Bu: Soccer mom, hehehe... [unleashed tirade of soccer mommish insults.]
Me: Bu, stop it. Look how the baking soda got the scum off the shower here...Oh Fuck. I am a soccer mom. Excuse me- I have to go pierce something.

So, it turns out it is fun, just like I imagined. I also learned that even though I know how to do acid-etching, wood-cuts, and handpainted monoprints, I cannot use a rubber freaking stamp neatly.

The company was the best. I got to see an old friend who I have always adored but don't know well enough, and got to know my friend who made my (gorgeous! photos soon) Mei Tai baby carrier a little more. We talked about birth stories until 1 a.m. Lovely.

OoOooo erggh:
Unhappiness = too many cookies.
Have I mentioned backsliding in February at my weight loss goal?

on sunshine & hormones

Ask anyone to describe me in one word? "Moody." (Actually, ask my supervisor and she'd probably say "flaky," but that's another post with this headline: "Woman with reasonably high IQ and mad computer skillz finds she can't function at job retarded monkey could do.")

My husband would definitely say "moody." I'm infamous for my hair-trigger tears. This morning? Bliss, pure silly bliss. Why? Sunshine, tiny woody buds on the lilac bush outside my window, a great cuppa tea with stevia extract not honey so I feel like a healthy chick. That's it. In contrast, reasons I have cried in the last 48 hours:

• Oprah inspires me to lose weight.
• Molly scrunches my boob while nursing and looks adorable.
• I'm ticketed for the dogs ands hate myself briefly.
• Mom on Style network gets makeover because she's been sad and frumpy after losing her 10 year old son.
• Tool song on radio.
• Molly learns to clap her hands
• I call the Grandies: "Whatcha doin'?" "Oh, I'm cooking breakfast while Mamaw's reading me Bible verses." (Because my parents pretty much hated each other by the time they were married half as long as these two.)

I think I may be having some chaotic hormonal surges. "Due" for my period if we count from my first one post-partum, but having signs of ovulation instead. Weird as I used to be a perfect 28 day full moon mama. Had to reassure myself via Breastfeeding Community that it takes a while to re-regulate when still nursing. I'm thinking about revisiting hormonal birth control. Maybe this new IUD I hear about? Or I think they called it an IUC. I dunno. I just know I'm not letting Bu get a vasectomy before the Mollybird's a year old. He could change his only child stance, but I so very seriously doubt he will. For the record, I'm fine either way. I was with him in the 100% only-one camp, but now I could sway:) You saw that coming, right? Me too. I'm still content with my onesie of course.