Can of Worms {a note from the mother behind the MotherWise photo controversy}

Reblogged from The Lippy Lactator:

So, a funny thing happened yesterday.

I have been a part of the MotherWise community for awhile now.  I periodically share photos, stories, or links to "This Woman's Work" with them.  Yesterday, a story and photo of mine was shared.  At first, the comments were sweet and supportive.  Parents shared the picture on their timelines with comments like, "Awww!" and, "What a sweet story!"  The more it was shared, however, the more people outside of the MotherWise community saw the post.

Read more… 1,441 more words

What's going on in my other world...

Rad Little People

Tags

Parenting, Rad Little People, Sponsors, Words

Words.

We say hundreds of thousands of words a day, without much thought going into many of them.  We talk to our dogs, our parents, our friends, our children…if you are like me, you may even talk to yourself as well.

If you are also like me, and you have a 3 year old in the house, you may find yourself talking MUCH more than ever before.  Usually, repeating yourself over, and over, and over, and…..over again.  I actually have to repeat everything Lula says.  That is her way of guaranteeing that I heard her.

“Mommy!  Look!  It’s a garbage truck!”

I see, honey.

“LOOK!  MOM! GARBAGE TRUCK!!!”

Wow!  I see it! That’s great honey.

“MOMMMMMMMMMMMY!  DO YOU SEE THE GARBAGE TRUCK?!?!?!”

Lula, look!  It is a garbage truck!

See, I didn’t repeat it exactly like she said it.  So it goes on and on until I catch on.

This morning on the way to work, she saw an ambulance with sirens speed past us.  The questions came pouring in.

“MOM!  WHAT WAS THAT?!”

That is an ambulance.  Someone was hurt or sick and needed a fast ride to the doctor.

“Next time I get hurt, can I ride in an ambulance?”

Well, you only ride in an ambulance if you are really, really hurt or sick and Mommy or Daddy can’t drive you fast enough.  We don’t want that to happen.

“Yes.  Yes I do.  Is the ambulance a boy or a girl?”

The ambulance is a vehicle.  The people inside are boys or girls.  Or both.  It doesn’t matter.

“It does matter.  I want both.  Are they happy people?”

This went on and on and on until we got to work and then she proceeded to tell my mom everything she knows about ambulances.

I find myself annoyed at times by all the round and round talking.  I do know she is learning.  I am amazed at how much she knows and how she can remember every single little thing that is said to her.  And then I start to think…

she remembers every.single.little.thing…oh shit.

Ryan and I were at Story Time a few weeks ago with the girls and this mom behind us had two little ones, a boy and a girl.  They weren’t doing anything particularly inappropriate, the boy had a hard time sitting still.  We kept hearing the mom say,

“GET OVER HERE!  STOP being such little BRATS!”

“You two are being SO BAD.”

“WHY do I have such nasty BRATS as kids?!”

I am just thinking outside the box here, but perhaps…just MAYBE…they were “acting like brats” because she kept telling them over and over that they indeed, were brats?  I don’t know.  I’m no expert.  I do know that me telling her that she was being a complete asshole wouldn’t have helped either.

I don’t call my girls brats, but it got me thinking even more…I need to be sure to tell my girls over and over how awesomely awesome they are.  Maybe if I tell them enough, they will believe it themselves.  All the times Lula masters something new at the playground, I need to tell her how strong she is.  How brave.  How she can do anything she puts her mind to.

Every time Olive says new words, throws things in the trash, is sweet to her baby dolls…I need to tell her how smart, helpful, and kind she is.

Words can be meaningless.  They can.  We spew out thousands of meaningless words a day.  Words can also be incredibly powerful.  It is important to make them count with our kids.  Think before we react.  Talk to them the same way we would like to be talked to.  Empower them.  Respect them.  Listen to their words.

My dear friend Maddie agrees with me on this.  She was tired of all the clothes for kids covered in silly phrases or words…the kids have no clue what it says on them.  We’ve even seen parents dress their kids in clothes plastered with their particular political agendas.  Silliness.

Maddie decided to start making shirts for our kiddos that have empowering, positive words on them.  Words that they can use to describe themselves…so Rad Little People was born.

Lula has a “Powerful” shirt, and we got to talk about what it means to be powerful, and all the things that make her so powerful.  She came over to my parent’s house and my dad said,

Lula! What does your shirt say?!

“Powerful!”

What does powerful mean?

“It means I am strong and brave and can do anything!”

What an awesome conversation to have with a child.

You can customize the shirts with words of your choice, or pick from her selections.  The shirts are adorable and what I love the most is that they are gender neutral.  Teaching my girls that there is no such thing as “girl” clothes or “boy” clothes is very important to me as well.

Maddie takes a lot of pride in her work and it shows in the quality of the shirts.  TWW couldn’t be happier to have “Rad Little People” as a sponsor.  Take some time to check out her Etsy shop and if you would like to make a purchase, TWW’s promo code is “FRIENDPASS“…and you’ll get FREE shipping!

What kinds of positive words would you use to describe your children?

Winding Road

Tags

Activism, new blog, Parenting

TWW has taken a little sabbatical. I have continued to write for Mothering, however, I have been struggling with the direction I want this blog to go.

Just because I haven’t been posting here, doesn’t mean I have been stagnant in my day to day life. Actually, that is where I am drastically evolving. I feel as if my eyes are being continually opened to new ideas, past fallacies, and future goals. I am discovering new passions that are becoming so ingrained in who I am that I am constantly having to sit down and get reacquainted with myself.

I have always been a passionate person, but my passion for a handful of topics has become so intense that I have found I need to become loud about them. Not because they are important to me, but because they are important for our children. They are important for our future. They are vital for MY children. And when it comes to that, to MY kids, I will be loud. I will be colorful. I will take a stand. Change doesn’t happen without action. Sometimes to create change you have to stand up and shout about it. Sometimes you have to put yourself out there for the good of the cause. The greatest changes in history had loud, passionate activists behind it. And they made people uncomfortable.

I don’t want to be comfortable. I want to ask questions. I want to dig deeper. This is where I am at right now. Reeling with ideas but no one to share them with. Flooded with things to write about but no where to write them.

I realize I am nothing extraordinary. What I have to say isn’t any more incredible than the next person. However, I refuse to live a stifled life because that is what makes people comfortable. I have written about this before, the fact I struggle with trying to please everyone. Wanting everyone to like me. That has always been one of the most important things to me.

I have changed. I am changing. I am yearning to learn more everyday about myself and this fascinating world I am a part of. I have found passions that are more important to me than my need to please others. So, where does that leave TWW?

After talking with a dear friend of mine, who is wise beyond her years, I have decided to start a new blog, all while keeping TWW. I will begin linking my work with Mothering here, while including some more personal, behind the scenes scoop on the article. My work with them is focused on gentle and attachment parenting, and I will be diving into the world of unschooling as well…because, if you can believe it…school is right around the corner for Lula! I will also continue to post here and there about life at the Karns’ Abode and update on the girls– as they are growing like weeds and cracking me up every single day.

My new blog will be linked here and on my social media outlets once it is up and running. This space will be geared more towards my passion for the normalization of breastfeeding, with a focus on breastfeeding in public and breastfeeding full-term. I will also be posting on my fight for genital integrity and autonomy for all children, and to end routine infant circumcision. Posts will also include topics around birth and empowering women to learn to trust their bodies. I am sure I will touch on the lack nonexistence of maternity leave in the US as well. Above all else, this blog will be there to challenge past beliefs and to educate on new (not-so-new, but new to you) ideas. I truly believe challenging things you were taught to believe is the key to growing as a person. For those that know me, you know I do not judge, and I am an accepting person. For those that don’t, know that my passion, my loudness, my fire… It isn’t to shame. It isn’t to judge. It isn’t to hurt.

It is to challenge. It is to educate. It is to get you thinking outside of the box society, your parents, your friends, whomever, has deemed appropriate. I will never shame a parent for past choices. My only hope is to educate. To show facts to back up my opinions. Actually, I hope to successfully show the difference between fact and opinion, as the two seem to get confused as one or the other quite often in regards to these topics. To share case studies, research, news articles, personal experience… whatever I can to keep you asking questions. To keep you wanting to keep digging.

There are so many things I wish I could take back as a parent. Already. And Lula is only 3. But, I have to move forward. I can learn. I can change. I can either be riddled with guilt, or shake it. And do something about it. Actually DO something about it. My pride has to be pushed aside when it comes to my kids…our kids.

The reason I am keeping this aspect of my life separate from TWW is because not everyone is ready to start digging. You have to be ready to challenge yourself and to ask questions of yourself. I have been humbled, brought to my knees, and slapped in the face with facts…facts that challenged my way of parenting. My beliefs. And it hurts. And it blasted my ego and it killed my pride. One has to be ready and willing to change, or else these foreign ideas will just piss them off. Send them into a tirade. How dare someone question my way of doing things?! Not everyone is ready. There was a time when I wasn’t either.

I want to keep TWW about the joys and woes of parenting and the beauty of pregnancy, while keeping you laughing and crying at the same time. TWW relates to people. It is a sigh of relief that someone feels the same way you do. And trust me, I do. This new avenue I am taking doesn’t quite mesh with what I have created here. And that is OK. I am looking forward to being enriched with the diversity this new creative outlet will bring.

If you’re ready, join me. If not, stick around. I am still here. Still Lindsay. Still cleaning up booger walls, eating soggy goldfish, and contemplating spiking my coffee most mornings.

Guest Post: What Happened To Your Baby?

Tags

Guest Post, Motherhood, Parenting, Special Needs

One thing that is super cool about having a blog with a large readership is that I can use this space as a platform for other writers as well.

I’d like to introduce Ana, a 21-year-old Montanian, Montanatonian?  Montaninite.  She’s from Montana.  She is also the mommy to a beautiful almost-2-year-old, Zoe.  After Zoe was born, it was discovered that she had a condition called Arthrogryposis.  Anthrogyposis affects the joints and muscles in all four limbs, typically.  They are very stiff, with seemingly no range of motion.  There is also substantial muscle weakness.  Zoe was born in the lotus position, legs criss-crossed under her bum, feet clubbed, her elbows would not bend and her hands bent forward to touch her forearms.

The more I have gotten to know Ana, the more I am inspired.  As a young, single mom to a child with special needs, Ana is faced with struggles that seem impossible to handle.  She stays home with her daughter full time, taking her to several physical and occupational therapy appointments a week.  Zoe also needs her arms and legs cast periodically to help bend and and straighten the joints.  Through all of this, Ana maintains a positive, no-nonsense attitude that I strive to have myself.  When asked how she does it, she responds, “If it were your child, you would do it all too.  You just do what you have to do, and keep moving forward.”

Ana is also a writer.  Her work has been in several online publications, including Mamalode.  And, after persistent prodding, she has started her own blog,  What Happened to Your Baby? 

I encourage you to read Zoe’s birth story, as it is raw, real, and simply beautiful.

Today, she is sharing a piece with This Woman’s Work readers on Zoe and her new found independence with a wheelchair at one of her weekly appointments.

*                      *                        *                         *                        *

I’ve been in Zombie Mode for the last two hours, unable to articulate more than a grunt or a groan. I’ve been speaking to my roommate in shrugs and blank stares. Which is fine, I guess. Better than the hide-in-the-bathroom-and-cry-intermittently tactic that I used most of the evening. Without allowing myself to be too vulnerable, and as to not confuse anybody with the mess that is in my head right now, tomorrow is a big day for appointments with Zoe. I can’t wrap my head around anything. Any train of thought gets lost within seconds.

I need redirection for the moment. I can’t write about an appointment that I’m not even clear about. I click “shuffle” on my iTunes, and the first song that starts playing is “Ho Hey” by the Lumineers. This is my daughter’s favorite song. She likes to shout “Oh!” and “Hey!” in between the singer’s. Just this morning she was in her carseat, singing and dancing to it on our way to appointments…

In the last week, Zoe has gone from not necessarily being aware of when we are heading to physical and occupational therapy, to begging to go, and sitting by the door saying “Go? Daar-ed? Cardo?” (How she pronounces our physical therapist and occupational therapist’s names. “Maaama. Go! Fishie! Horse! Bug?? Gooo.” Every time we get in the car, she asks if we are going, and every time we pull up to the hospital her face lights up and she goes through her list of words associated with what’s inside.

What is inside is freedom. Independence. Confidence. A certain, special glow that I couldn’t describe to you with all the words in the world. Three times a week, before we cast her legs, she gets to drive (Drive? Play? Explore?) a power wheelchair around the hospital. We started with smaller spaces, a room where we tried to get her to come to us while she learned how to steer, stop, and pull up to a surface without crashing into it. Now, she drives through the halls of the hospital like a daily stroll.

Lately, we don’t even have to try to get her to follow us. We buckle in to her wheelchair, and she goes. She leads us. We follow at a safe distance, and sometimes jump in her way to be living, moving obstacles. She tells us, “Bowl.” and takes us to the toy bowling alley set up in the hallway near the pediatric gym. Sometimes she detours into the gym and plays with the tool table that she’s never been able to reach.

Next, she takes us to the fish tank in the common area of the Inpatient part of the hospital. Here, she drives up to me, and stops just close enough to raise her arms, wordlessly asking to be taken out of the chair. Today, her OT set up a narrow passage with chairs for her to drive down that she couldn’t just flip a U-ie and drive away from the tank, trying to teach her how to reverse more than a few inches. I waited, crammed between a chair and the fish tank. She reaches me and lifts her arms. I pull her out and she gets to feed the fish spoonfuls of smelly flakes. When I put her back down, we expected her to barrel into the chairs so they’d move out of her way since we haven’t really worked much with reversing yet, but instead, she turned her head so she could see behind her (as much as the chair allows, anyways) and reversed the whole five or so feet until she could turn around and cruise around the nurses station. Sometimes she wants to play on the carousel horse, or look at the Christmas tree in the corner.

We go to the therapy gym for adults with the giant butterflies hanging from the ceiling, sometimes she moseys down less exciting hallways, peeking into rooms we pass and winning over hearts of whoever she drives by. Another first, today, was the elevator. It took some coaxing to get her to understand it was okay for her to drive into it. We went up to the pediatric unit and met two girls at another fish tank, then took another elevator downstairs again.

No matter where we go that day, it always ends the same. She drives over to where I’m sitting and raises her arms to be picked up again. I pull her out, she drinks some milk and then we go cast, and after that, head home for naps, dinner, and playtime. The days she drives, she won‘t let me do anything for her. She doesn‘t want me to carry her, or help her do anything. At those appointments Zoe gets a taste of being a “regular” kid. She gets to run away from Mom, she can reach things she can’t when she is butt-scooting, everything is a bit more attainable. No wonder she won’t stop asking to go.

When we get home, Zoe sets her sights higher. She is more interested in things on the table, wants to check out what is just out of reach, and I know she is plotting what she’ll get into when she can drive her own chair around the house. And…I can’t wait.

~Marley Time~

Tags

Mothering, Parenting, Zen

Parenthood seems to be a constant cycle of making mistakes, learning from them, making more mistakes, maybe not learning from them as quickly, making more mistakes, wondering if you are permanently fucking up your children, trying to undo the mistakes, then making more in the process.

Ryan and I learned a ton in our counseling sessions a couple of years ago.  But one thing…one thing that I learned continues to haunt me.

“Most of all of people’s psychological shortcomings, emotional immaturity, the inability to appropriately handle stressful situations, anger control issues, fears and phobias…they all stem from childhood.  Whether it was specific events, household environment, parenting styles that don’t mesh with the personality of the child, abuse…it all goes back to the earliest years of life.”

Her point was made to help us understand that we don’t do the things that anger and frustrate each other on purpose, but rather the ways we act during arguments or when we are under stress tends to be our default setting.  So, if we learn how each other work on a psychological level, then we can divert a complete blow up.

Makes sense.

However, I tend to take most anything I learn, and see how it applies to all aspects of my life.  Call it obsessive compulsive, I call it introspective.  There I sat, hearing this information (having had known this for years, but hearing it from a shrink somehow makes it reality) pregnant, and completely terrified that I have already royally messed up Lula, and I will inevitably do the same with Olive.

Every little quirk Lula has, I blamed on some sort of parenting flub.  She hates loud noises…to the point she begs for her earphones when Olive cries or I need to vacuum.  Must have been those times I lost my cool and yelled at her that caused it.  Maybe one of those fights Ryan and I had that didn’t make it behind closed doors was what did it.

She is high-anxiety…quickly loses her cool when things don’t go as she had planned.  She can’t handle change or spontaneity well at all.  I can see the anxiety in her face, and it breaks my heart every time.  Sometimes I wonder why she just isn’t happy.  She must get that from me.  She can tell I suffer from anxiety and she just feeds off of me.  Now she is just a ball of nerves…permanently.

She throws the most amazing fits.  Red, pissed, livid.  When I have to say “no” to her, I can see it in her face how unbelievably angry she is with me.  I have a temper.  I go from zero to ten in a matter of seconds.  Me.  I did this to her.

The amount of guilt that I piled on myself was insane.  My anxiety went through the roof as I picked my little girl apart and took responsibility for everything that could be considered a “psychological shortcoming.”  I soon realized that by me doing this, I was reverting to my default setting.  Taking responsibility for anyone’s unhappiness, anger, stress, frustration…yeah, I do that all the time.  I wasn’t letting her just be her.  Letting her be her own person.  She is her own little human.  She isn’t me.  We may have a lot in common, but her brain doesn’t work just like mine does.  Don’t get me wrong, I am still undoing some obvious mistakes I made with her and continue to make, but I have stopped taking responsibility for everything.  

I sat down with a wise mommy friend, and she told me that I am a good parent for even going there in my brain.  But, I need to stop.  Let it go.  I also need to abandon my need to control, surrender to the fact that I will somehow mess her up, and relax.  If I relax, everything around me will relax.  Just zen the eff out.  If I continue to have any expectations of her, any at all, THAT will be the thing that will mess her up.  Let her be her.  And love her for every little bit of it.

I don’t write this for comments like, “Oh Lindsay, don’t worry, you are an excellent mother.”  Though I wouldn’t mind them…

…I write this because I know there are other parents out there stressing their brains out over these same things.  I am writing to tell you that you are an excellent parent.  You are doing a wonderful job raising and guiding your little humans and they are lucky to have you.  And to them…to them you are as wonderful and perfect as you think they are.  So let them be free to be who they are.  Put some Bob Marley on and zen the eff out.  Both you and your children will be better for it.

Look how wonderful she is.

{girls rule}- with katrina amburgey photography

Tags

Girls, Motherhood, Parenting, Photography, Sponsors

Pre-kids, I always talked about how I wanted a huge family.  8 kids.  All boys.  I never imagined myself as a mother to girls.  I don’t know why.  Perhaps it was the knowledge of the emotional mess of a teenager I was… (who am I kidding?  I’m still an emotional mess)…and I wanted to avoid that drama.

When the ultrasound tech said “It’s a girl.”  Tears streamed down my face.  My mom and mother-in-law squealed with delight and hugged.  A girl.  I fell even more in love with my growing Lula at that moment, and I vowed to be the best mother I could possibly be to her.  Ryan was commercial fishing in Alaska and I called him, not expecting him to answer on the first ring.

“Well?  What are we having?”

“A healthy baby girl.  I can hardly believe it.”

“A girl?! Hot Damn!”

Pregnancy and Motherhood has brought out femininity in me that I never knew was there.  I became increasingly astonished and amazed by the female body…all the mystery, miracles, and beauty it gives the world.  I took ownership over how wonderfully awesome it is to be a woman, embraced it.  I started speaking out via the blogosphere about body image, the definition of true beauty, woman banding together, and women’s rights.  I wanted my small baby girl to grow up and see a mother who is comfortable in her skin, who respected nature’s role in the female body, and who fought for equality for women and girls everywhere.

When I found out I was pregnant with my second child, I was determined to own my body, pregnancy, and birth experience and to trust nature.  To trust my amazing body.  My pregnancy and birth of Olive was not only healing, but incredibly empowering.  I know that my experience will have such a positive impact on my daughters as they grow and learn about the wonders of their bodies.  Someday, when they have children of their own, I hope that my experience will provide confidence and strength for them to trust their bodies to do the work they were created to do.

I was overjoyed when I found out Olive was going to be a girl.  I had grown so much since becoming pregnant, then a mother to Lula…  I liked who I was.  The woman I had become.  I felt that I was the perfect woman to be the mother to two little girls.  I am confident in the morals, ideas, and guidance I am instilling in them…and I couldn’t be more, “Woman Power!” fist up in the air, jacked-up about my two little ladies.  Because, well, we are awesome.

A few things have changed since pre-kid days.  I no longer want 8 children, for starters.  More than 2, but definitely…definitely not 8.

Boys?  Sure!  Girls?  Bring ‘em on.

Right now, I am marinating in all the love these two beauties are giving me.  I am so content with just that.

This Woman’s Work is now open to sponsors!  I couldn’t be more excited about this new venture, and my first sponsor is none other than one of my best friends of over 15 years, Katrina, of Katrina Amburgey Photography.  I always seem to ask her to photograph things she hasn’t done yet.  I like to think I push her creative envelope.  Every time, she goes above and beyond anything I could have hoped for.  Katrina photographs families, newborns, weddings, engagement, seniors…and she is now doing boudoir sessions that are simply divine.  Our beautiful pictures were taken in her studio, which is not only HUGE, but has phenomenal natural lighting that makes every picture absolutely perfect.  I really love how she captured the essence of my relationship with my girls.

For all of my local readers, if you book a session with Katrina Amburgey Photography, and give her the offer code “womanswork” you will get 10% off your selected package!*

Now, I’m off to make the tough decision of which one of these will be on canvas!

Have a Happy Thanksgiving, readers!

 

*good through the end of 2013

My Kid’s a Hippy.

Tags

Attachment Parenting, My Hippy Heart, Parenting, Toddlers

A friend and I were discussing brewing kombucha the other day.  I laughed and had to tell her this story…

Lula:  “Mom, what are you drinking?  Is that boocha?”

Me:  “Yes, I’ll share if you would like.”

Lula:  “What kind of boocha?”

Me:  “Just plain.”

Lula:  “YES!  -Gulp-  Mmmmm!  That is some gooooood boocha.  -Gulp Gulp- Man, I love boocha.”

Jenn found it quite hilarious that my almost 3 year old is a kombucha connoisseur, and brought up all of the other “hippy” things my daughter does..and insisted I write a post on the subject.

Now, before I begin…to all of the Enforcers of All That is Politically Correct…yes, I realize that some of these things are not “hippy.”  Perhaps a better term would be “crunchy” or “granola” or “natural.”  Call it what you must, but my hippy heart skips a beat when I catch my daughter being this fabulously crunchtastic.

Lula Loves Hummus

Oh, does she love hummus.  Not only does she love hummus, but she prefers homemade hummus…and prefers it even more if the chickpeas were soaked and cooked than if they came from a can.  If you come over to our house at lunch time, you will hear, “Mom, I don’t want my peanut butter and jelly.  I want more pepper slices and hummus!”

Lula On Coconut Oil as Food

We use coconut oil (“cocobutt oil”, according to Lula) for most everything around here, and Lula has caught on.  I scramble her eggs in it, throw spoonfuls of it in smoothies, spread it on toast…she eats it by itself with her little finger.

Me:  “Lula, why do we eat coconut oil?”

Lula:  “Because it makes me feel all better inside!”

Yes.  Yes it does.

Lula On Healing Wounds

Whenever Lula, or anyone for that matter, injures themselves, she immediately demands either cocobutt oil, or “milkies” (breastmilk) to be applied to the wound.  In her eyes, they are instant healers.

Lula and Brewer’s Yeast

Lula loves nutritional yeast.  Loves it.  The only way that she likes her popcorn is with it coated in the stuff.  She also enjoys it on her pasta.  And broccoli.  She calls it, “Powdered Cheese.”

Lula and Diapers

At a friends house not too long ago, she brought me a disposable diaper.

“What’s this?”

The granola mom in me beamed as I realized that cloth diapers are the only kind of diaper she knows.

Lula and Babywearing

Anytime Olive cries or seems fussy…

“Put her in the sling, Mom.”

She also insists on wearing her doll, Bonnie, when we go on walks.

As you can imagine, this scene made my heart grow three sizes that day.

Lula and Her Tree Friends

My all time favorite children’s book is Dr. Seuss’ The Lorax.  I have known it by heart since I was a kid, and naturally, I made sure it was one of the first books I read to my daughter.  As she got older, we talked about the meaning of the story.  How the trees and nature are our friends, and how we need to treat them kindly and give back to them for all they give to us.  One day, I was in the kitchen and Lula was playing out back.  I looked out the window and saw her hugging a tree and talking to it.  BAH!  My child is a tree hugger.

I went outside and asked her what she was doing.

“The tree is my friend.  I wub it.”

Lula and Homemade Juice

Lula has a love/hate relationship with the juicer.  She isn’t a fan of loud noises, but she loves the finished product that the juicer provides, much more than store bought.  Her favorite is Apple, Carrot, Lemon, Ginger, and Spinach.  She calls it “Happy Juice” because it makes her “feel happy inside.”

I know that I have completely created this.  I have fully influenced her and all of her hippiness is my own doing…and this…

…it makes me smile.  My Lula has my hippy heart…for now.

::magic::

Tags

Breastfeeding, Magic, Motherhood, Parenting

My body is magic.

You suckle, and I produce food.  A perfect food, just for you.

I smell your breath, your face, your fingers, and my body processes the pathogens and germs that are preparing to invade your little body.  The milk I then create delivers just the right antibodies to help you ward off disease and infection.

I feel your skin.  My body senses a rise in your temperature, and then adjusts the levels of electrolytes and water in my milk to help ward off dehydration.

My milk is warm and sweet and just the right temperature.  You don’t need to wait for it to be prepared, only for it to be too hot, too cold, too bitter…my milk is just right, always.

With every feeding, all of the vitamins and minerals your body needs to survive, grow, and flourish is delivered in just the right amounts.

You taste a variety of flavors depending on what I eat, and you learn to love a variety of foods even before you have taken your first bite.

When you are tired and fussy, you nurse and you calm down and drift off to dreamland.

When you are scared, unsure, overdone…you nurse and we reconnect.

When you are hurt, sick, or those teeth just won’t ease up, you nurse and you feel better again.

You have a scratch, or a little red bum…I rub on some of my milk, and within a day, hours, even minutes, you are healed.

My body pieced you together for 9 months…grew you, and nourished you.

My body has continued to grow you and nourish you since you came Earthside.

…I am magic, I tell you…

Magic.

Road Warrior

Tags

Cars, Family, Family Car, Parenting

As our family gets bigger, other things seem to follow suit…

our food budget

our need for a bigger home

my hips, thighs, and ass

our idea of a “serving” or “portion” of wine

our imaginations

the family vehicle.

A few months ago, Ryan got his “Dad Car.”  Ryan’s car history includes several VW Bugs (suped up and extremely obnoxious), an Outback with hand painted flames, and a GMC Truck.   I was pretty impressed when he pulled up in a shiny silver Toyota Camry…Great gas mileage for his commute, safe, great resale value, and a roomy sedan for ample carseat space.  How practical of you, Karns! 

Between myself, Ryan, Buckley, Lula, and Olive–AND the entire house we have to pack up to take them anywhere, my little Jeep just isn’t cutting it.  If we add another little Karns Sprout to the mix, Buckley will officially be demoted to “family dog” and lose his spot as our third child.  I lived in Ellensburg, I’ve seen Aussies balance on the back of flat beds no problem; he’ll just have to hang on tight up top.

I’ve been thinking about what I should get when we officially retire the Jeep.

Crucial features include:

3rd row seating

Great gas mileage

Environmentally friendly

Room for storage

Easy to clean (inside and out)

How hard can that be?  Well, it seems impossible.  Apparently, “great gas mileage” and “environmentally friendly” do not go hand in hand with “3rd row seating” and “room for storage.”  What gives?

All of these fancy SUV’s and minivans are great at first look…they fit the mold of roominess and extra seating.  But easy to clean?  I think not.  You would think that all of the secret compartments and fancy seats are a great idea…I see more places for dried up apple cores and half-eaten granola bars to hide.

Leather seats?  Not with a dog with dagger-like claws.  Get me industrial strength vinyl.  Actually, I want zero upholstery altogether.  Preferably something I can just take a hose to on the inside and blast all of the dog hair, sucker sticks, and goldfish out the back.

Let me just plug that into the search engine here…

and…

Ah yes.  Perfect.

Where do I sign?

photo credit: http://www.harborhaven.com, rumors.automobilemag.com

::fit for a king::

Tags

Food, Mothering, Parenting, The Joys of Parenting

What did you all enjoy for lunch today?

…A grilled panini with with roasted red peppers and pesto?

…A beautiful salad with vegetables straight from your garden?

…Perhaps a bowl of homemade soup?  I mean, naturally…we are entering the Fall season.

Wanna see what I had?

Ooooh, Lindsay…is that from one of those hip, artsy, minimalist restaurants?

No.

Mmmm are those bits of truffle I see?

No.  Raisins and a little dog hair.

Oooh my, those steamed carrots in the back look simply divine.

Let’s zoom in a bit closer, shall we?

Steamed carrots?  Oh.  You mean these delectable goldfish, marinated in toddler drool and sippy cup backwash?  Oh yes.  I savored every last one.

Guess what I am having for dinner?

Cold pasta that has glued itself to itself with congealed tomato sauce on top.

Dinner’s at 6 but I’ll most likely eat it at 9 once the kids finally stay asleep after starting their bedtime routine at 6:30.  I love eating pasta RIGHT before bed.

Oh.

And a GIANT glass of wine…

…Cheers to all the parents who drink cold coffee, eat cold meals, and stuff their face when they can.  Now, go dive into that hidden candy stash while the kids are napping…I won’t tell.