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.

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.

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:)

positivity & artistic limbo

Warmer day, start of my weekend. Feeling groovy today: perky, possibly to an annoying degree. Hence, a digi doodle for you:

This is a welcome change from yesterday, in which Bu and then I plummeted into a Funk. Apparently, for me, it was a short lived Funk, which rocks, as I have been known to wallow for months in a dark place. Thank gods I seem to be moving further away from that as I grow more wrinkles and silver hairs. My impression of my life is that I was sleepwalking from age 15-25. A decade lost to just nothing.

I'm doing a lot of daydreaming about reinvinting my life, "Evolution of a moon-eyed etc..." being the presumptive raison d'etre for this blog. Molly has changed me so drastically and beautifully that it's wild. I was thinking about that nursing a wiggle baby fighting sleep while I watched a Sex and the City rerun. It was an episode before Miranda had Brady and there was a pregnant chick breakdown. Their minds were blown pondering how much it changes you, being a mother. My reaction is that it change as much as you want it to. I wanted, needed my daughter to allow me to focus on something huge outside myself. I see her as a cuddly little fire lit under my ass to get my life in order.

When I got pregnant, I wondered what the impact of motherhood would be on my artistic life. Certain professors of the non-namesake variety (Molly's named after my ceramics prof) seem to think it's pretty much a death sentence for my hypothetical career. So, what I thought was that I want her to see me being the best version of myself I can be- that includes producing art regularly. I think it would be so harmful to her to see her mother wasting her talent.

How much art have I made in the time span since I was barely pregnant?

Zero art.

The thing is, it isn't the diapers and the nursing and working two jobs. It's my slacker self doing the same thing I've always done-nothing of consequence. For hours at a time.

So I'm trying to organize this life and family. We are living so loosely, with no routine and no direction. The baby's sleeping in with us then is up too late. The business plan's sitting there in a notebook with weeks?months? of dust on. My studio is a catch all storage room piled to ceiling with miscellania. My clay is in dried bricks, my kiln has never been turned on.

I'm implementing some ideas from The {cheesy} Secret, and I'll go into more detail later about that. My biggest thing need is to just create some structure in my/our life. I've got to start managing time better. I mean I will, I will, I will. I've become the thought police, trying to frame things positively. Constant battle.

Oh, and look: blog pretty again:) It's evolving too. Yay for BlogU.

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.