Vacation Phase 4: Mamoorials

Jul15

Today is my grandma’s birthday and so it seems fitting that I’ve coincidentally reached the point in my vacation recap of writing about her memorial services. We called my grandma Mamoo and so I refer to her committal and Celebration of Life events as her Mamoorials and these were the real reason we went to California in the first place. When I tell people that my grandma died, I’ve noticed two common responses: “How old was she?” and “Were you close?” It is as if people are evaluating how “sorry” to be or much condolences to offer, with the older the person, the more appropriate the loss, or something like that. Anyway, she would have been 84 today. She has a beautifully long and vibrant life that was full of activity and experiences right up until the end. However, I had great-grandmas of my own until my late teen years and I fully and completely expected my kids to have the same experience. I heard from my mom that my grandma’s life insurance company still had her life expectancy at 15 more years, so forget the “how old” question and believe me when I say that her death came as an unexpected shock, even if it was in the “right” generational order and even though she was “old enough” that it doesn’t count as tragic. Since we always lived far away from each other and thus often went six months without seeing her, it is easy to forget that she’s gone and not at her home in California volunteering at the zoo and working in her sewing room. There is a definite sense of her life being “cut short,” regardless of her actual age. When we were at the beach following her Mamoorials, Zander found a whole tiny crab. He saved it and took it back to the condo saying as we walked, “I’m saving this for Mamoo! She’s going to love it!” (She did the children’s program at the zoo and she often carted strange artifacts of the natural world back to California from her visits to Missouri, including a whole donkey skull, but also things like a turtle shell and a hummingbird’s nest, and a whole well-preserved stag beetle. My dad often saved weird, dead things for her and she was always happy to receive them and add to the zoo’s demo collection.)

When I left off my vacation recapping last we had finished a fab stint at Legoland and were still in Carlsbad, California, which is about a six hour drive from Fresno, where my grandma lived. We opted, perhaps bizarrely perhaps geniusly, to fly to Fresno from San Diego, rather than making a long car trip. Tickets were only $60 each between the two and it seemed worth it to us. However, in my frenzy before leaving, I neglected to notice the difference between AM and PM on the tickets and accidentally booked a 10:00 PM flight to Fresno. After some intense lamenting that actually involved flinging myself on the bed and sobbing hysterically and then yelling about my own stupidity and what kind of IDIOT does that?!?! Someone who is too busy and MUST QUIT EVERYTHING AS SOON AS POSSIBLE, I decided to then, again perhaps bizarrely and perhaps geniusly, to buy new plane tickets for the correct AM flight, thus completely wasting $300, but restoring the “rightful” order of my plans. I tried to never think about it again, though as we enjoyed pizza with our extended family that evening in Fresno and rehearsed for the Mamoorial, I wondered if they were paging us for our PM flight back in San Diego…(why not switch tickets you ask, because there was a $200 penalty per ticket for doing so? I may not be a genius, but I can do enough math to realize that paying $200 to change a $60 ticket is not a realistic option).

The San Diego flight was awesome and easy and we got to Fresno right at 11:00 (a.m. 😉 ) and my dad picked us up at the airport in my grandma’s car. I knew as we started to descend into the Fresno airport and saw those so familiar flat, flat, flat squares of irrigated desert farmland, but without my grandma waiting there to meet us for the first time in my entire life, that I had significantly underestimated how difficult this was going to be. Getting into her familiar boat of a car that smelled like her and that had her sunglasses under the seat and her water bottle in the console with her name tidily written on it with Sharpie was hideous. Pulling into her little condo was even worse, but going inside was the worsest. My aunt and mom and sister were already there and had been there since the night before and they had a sort of rhythm and plan going on with sorting through my grandma’s things. The “bandaid had already been ripped off” in their case, as my aunt put it. I, however, was a complete mess. I could NOT believe how awful it was to be there and see her home without her in it. Again, there was that sense of her life cut short—her mousepad by the computer, her zoo jacket hanging on the door, her calendar on the wall with her writing on it, her exercise video in the VCR. So familiar and so over. I cried and cried and felt sort of stupid and also “drama queenish,” because everyone else was so busy and methodical and I felt like I was all like, “but look at me, I’m totally sad!” My aunt sat with me and then suggested I go ahead and keep ripping the bandaid by advance-watching the memorial slideshow for the Celebration of Life luncheon the next day. This was a spectacularly good idea and really helped. Her house was so full of things familiar to me from my childhood and it was also remarkably and beautifully full of us, pictures of my kids all over, things I made for her on walls and shelves. It was a mirror experience of what I already observed at my own home on the day that she died:

…it is amazing to think about all the ways her presence is woven through my days even though she lives 2000 miles away–the sweater I put on every morning is one she knit for me, her quilts are on my kids’ bedroom walls and on all our beds, magazine subscriptions she gifts us with are in the car and bathroom…we’re connected in many ways and I don’t know what life will look like without her in it.

Dinner with cousins/siblings.

via Goodbye | Talk Birth.

After losing it with all the pictures and memories, I then sort of helped my mom, sister, aunt, and sister-in-law go through my grandma’s things. Later we checked into our hotel and Mark took the kids down to the pool while I rehearsed for my Mamoorial speeches/service. I cried and cried as I practiced my speech until my eyes were horribly puffy and I looked awful. “At least I’m getting this out before tomorrow!” I thought optimistically. I texted my mom that my plan for the next day was “teary-eyed and with a tasteful catch in my voice” rather than the wreck I was today. We had a family dinner that night at a cousin’s house and while there, I enlisted my cousins in a plan for a grandchild responsive reading of a version of “Song of the Open Road” at the first Mamoorial. We actually had a really fun time laughing and rehearsing our poem.

At least the kids hitched a ride on a luggage cart.

We stayed a horrible hotel with the worst breakfast in the history of hotel breakfasts. We so missed our beloved Drury Inns on this trip!

We headed over to the Chapel of the Light where Mamoo’s ashes were to be placed in the above-ground chamber in which my grandpa is interred. I was asked to officiate at a brief committal service before we placed the ashes and this ceremony was attended by only close relatives. After my grandpa died in 1989, my grandma remarried so my step-grandfather and most of his children and their children were there. Mamoo always kept our families kind of separate, even though she was married for more than 20 years to this “new” husband. It was easy for me to forget that she had another life with a whole set of other local grandchildren that I didn’t have a lot of contact with, but for whom she was the only grandmother, the only Mamoo, they’d ever known too. I quickly enlisted the aid of these grandchildren as well for my Song of the Open Road plan. The service I planned went well, but the grandchildren piece was the highlight, in my opinion. I’m not sure if other people specifically liked it, but it was so important to me that each grandchild’s voice be represented during the ceremony. While I don’t know that she liked Walt Whitman at all, my grandma was a traveler and so this poem felt absolutely perfect to me. My grandpa loved his boat and they used to go on boat trips together as well and so the section about taking to the seas, to me, felt like this perfect tie-in to our return of the remains of her body to his:

Song of the Open Road (responsive)

(modified from Walt Whitman)

Riding an elephant in Africa

Afoot and light-hearted, I take to the open road
Healthy, free, the world before me.

Henceforth, I ask not good fortune—
I myself am good-forturne
Strong and content
I travel the open road.

I inhale great draughts of space;
the east and the west are mine,
and the north and the south are mine.

All seems beautiful to me;
I can repeat over to men and women,
You have done such good to me,
I would do the same to you.

Ready to hit the road!

Whoever you are, come travel with me!
However sweet these laid-up stores—
however convenient this dwelling,
we cannot remain here;

However sheltered this port,
And however calm these waters,
We must not anchor here;

Together! The inducements shall be greater;
We will sail pathless and wild seas;

We will go where winds blow,
Waves dash, and the Yankee clipper
Speeds by under full sail.

Forward! After the great companions!
And to belong to them!
They too are on the road!

Onward! To that which is endless,
As it was beginningless,
To undergo much, journeys of days,
Rests of nights,

To look up or down no road

As I made Mamoo's name, I thought about how I hadn't had any "signs" from her. Then, in the middle of that thought, I looked down and right by the "M" in her name was this rock. I held it all through the memorial service I did at the internment of her ashes and all through my speech at her Celebration of Life luncheon.

I held this stone all through the memorial service I did at the internment of her ashes and all through my speech at her Celebration of Life luncheon.

But it stretches and waits for you—

To know the universe itself as a road—
As many roads—
As roads for traveling souls…

It was a lot of pressure to be responsible for this ceremony. I wanted it to be perfect. I wanted it to be what she deserved. I wanted it to “speak” to every person there. I wanted it to be worthy of her. I hope it was enough.

Before she died, Mamoo got some details l all planned out with my aunt. She wanted a specific banquet center for a celebration of life lunch with chicken salad, no traditional funeral. She wanted the theme music from Out of Africa played and she wanted chocolate chip ice cream bon bons (which was the only thing that couldn’t be worked out–we had chocolate chip cookies instead and the rest was just like she asked for). After the committal service, we went to Tornino’s banquet center for the Celebration of Life. People came and came and came. We exceeded the capacity of the banquet room and emergency additional food had to be prepared. She didn’t want a “funeral service” type of feeling and it wasn’t. The slideshow played, the theme music from Out of Africa played, we ate chicken salad and visited with distant relatives and friends. My aunt spoke briefly and explained the planning of the event. She did a beautiful job honoring my grandma’s wishes and planning an special, lovely lunch in her honor. My grandma’s stepson read a poem written by my step-grandpa about “My Lyla, My Lyla.” It was heart-rending and I suddenly realized I might have made a huge mistake in saying I’d be the last speaker. My grandma’s stepdaughter spoke. My uncle spoke. And, then it was my turn. I was speaking on behalf of all the grandkids, each had sent me a favorite Mamoo memory to share. Remember my plan for the tasteful, teary-eyes? Yeah, that. Instead, I failed to even see the handy Kleenex on the podium and instead wiped my nose with my hand while I was talking. There were 260 people there, which is a much larger group than I’ve spoken before in the past. I didn’t feel nervous really, but I did feel sad and I cried much more than I’d wanted to or expected to. People afterward told me they’d never experienced anything like what I’d said at a memorial before and they hoped someone would do the same for them someday. I apparently talked really fast, but that is not a big surprise. It was hard, but I did it.

For the story from my boys for the speech, they had this to say: Mamoo was really epic.

And, she was.

For my own memory contribution I shared that I picture her in a little jacket and jaunty scarf and zoo necklace and her ball ring, with slightly bent knees and open arms ready for a hug of greeting and she’d smile in that welcoming way. We got too big to be greeted in that way, but I saw her do it again with my own kids. And, I shared what I wrote in my last card to her:

I’ve always been proud of you—your smart, creative, adeventuresome self. Best. Grandma. Ever. You’ve been a beautiful example to us of how to live, both in the practical sense in terms of being frugal and in the more esoteric sense of how to be of service to the community, to take risks, to be productive, and to age gracefully and with a neverending zest for new experiences. We’re grateful to you also for her generosity over the years, particularly for the gift of my college education and the debt-free legacy that left for us and our children. I don’t know that I can ever explain in full what a potent gift that was—one that lasts our lifetime.

I closed with a slightly edited version of a poem I originally shared here:

Last Words

We learned from you
we loved with you
we heard you
we saw you
we hugged you
and held you
we mourned with you
we mourned for you
we have been dazzled by your radiance
inspired by your adventures
and touched by your generosity.

Three generations of people
sat in your lap as children
were covered by your quilts
and zipped into your sweaters
you carried each of us on your hip
and held us each in your heart

We respect you
we cherish you
we appreciate you
we’ve learned so much from you
we’ve laughed with you
and lived with you
and traveled with you

and now
we open up our hands
we open up our hearts
and we let you go.
Be free.
Continue your travels
on the currents of time and space…

Go in peace
go in love
and go knowing that you have left behind
something beautiful
something marvelous
something that matters
The fabric of a life well-lived
the hearth of a family well-tended
the heart of a community strengthened
and a never-ending chain of generations
unbroken.

You’re our Mamoo

You’re our grandmother
and we say goodbye
and thank you.

Sink deeply
and gently
into the arms and lap
of time
the great mother of us all

She holds you now.
We let go

Then, we left the Mamoorial and headed out for the beach, a little over three-hour drive. We drove her car…

When we got home from California, the Mamoorial blue hydrangea we’d planted was blooming beautifully!

One of my earliest memories of Mamoo is of sitting on her lap and playing with a gold ball ring on her finger. I don’t know the story behind that ring, I feel as if I should, but from the time I was a tiny girl she always wore it when she visited her grandchildren and we all liked to play with it. I imagine it was a coincidence that she wore it around a grandchild in the first place, but then it became a thing that she did and that all of us associated with her. When my aunt and mom were going through her jewelry they asked if there was something I wanted and I asked for the ring. Later, my two sisters both mentioned it as well and I feel guilty or selfish for being the one to get it. At this point, I can’t wear it. It makes me feel awful to see it on my own hand. Its hers. It belongs on her hand. The whole reason I wanted it was because it was something that reminds me very concretely of her, but that is the exact same reason that I can’t wear it right now. I hope my own grandchildren will play with it though when I wear it to meet them. It fits on the same finger on my hand that it fit on hers.

They also gave me her Hitty doll. Hitty: Her First Hundred Years is a classic children’s novel by Rachel Field. It was published in 1929 and was one of my grandma’s favorite books. Hitty is a small ashwood doll who travels the world. In 1997, my grandma bought her own Hitty replica and did, in fact, take Hitty with her on some travels as her travel doll. My dad made replicas of Hitty’s key furniture pieces for my grandma and they were all set up as a display in her house, along with a tiny wooden peg person Hitty I’d made for my grandma, but completely forgotten about. I sat the ball ring on a Hitty’s lap for a while and then ended up putting it into a little shadow box with her on the replica of Hitty’s bench that my dad made for my grandma and a set of my grandma’s Dionne Quintuplet dolls. Those who know me in real life may puzzle somewhat over my extensive and non-frugal American Girl doll collection, but I come by this doll thing genetically, I swear. It is in my blood! I remember the Dionne Quintuplet dolls from when I was a little girl. They were my grandma’s when she was a girl herself and she was fascinated by the story of the Quints.

Last month, I took the ring to the woods and wrote a sort of “poem” about it, excerpted below. After doing so, I became obsessed with finding a picture of her wearing the ring, because suddenly I worried that I’d imagined or exaggerated that she always wore it to see us. Indeed, I don’t know if she ever wore at other times, but around the grandchildren, it was a fixture. And, I did readily locate pictures from her eightieth birthday party in which you can see the ring on her hand where it belongs and pictures from when I was younger and pictures from when she came to meet Alaina.

…Ball ring
has been a lot of places
told a lot of stories
seen a lot of things
and it is still here
a reminder
of what has gone before.

Thank you.

(6/6/13)

I had to include this picture even though I, personally, look like a mutant, because Mamoo is so cute in it!

She passed along her smile to my whole family! 🙂

This is the kind of picture that really twists my heart, because she looks like Alaina in it and the world spins so fast…

Happy birthday, Mamoo! My mom sent me a text to tell me that your birthday club friends went out to lunch for your birthday. They’ve been going out to lunch on birthdays for 50 years.

And, today the investment statements came from the college funds you set up for my kids. Thank you.

Talk Books: Birth, Breath, & Death

Jul13

I just finished reading a lovely little book by Amy Wright Glenn. Lyrical, gentle, contemplative, and touching, Birth, Breath, and Death explores Amy’s meditations on life as a doula, mother, and hospital chaplain.

Amy Wright Glenn was raised as a Mormon and eventually found her way onto a different faith path, Unitarian Universalism. Her reasons for connecting with the UU church actually closely mirror my own. Amy mentions that she first finds the UU church through her interest in poetry, which I found interesting. She then explains, “I was drawn to the way that Unitarian Universalist (UU) ministers attempt to evoke wonder and exploration in the minds and hearts of their congregants” (p. 10). This attempt to engage with the “transcendent sense of mystery and wonder” is exactly what attracted me to the UU’s, as well as the respect for the interdependent web of life of which we are all a part, the affirmation of the dignity and worth of each human being, and the commitment to social justice.

Amy writes, “I had been raised to acknowledge only one entrance to God’s energy. In fact, one need not use the term ‘God’ at all. Such a term is another doorway into the mysterious heart unifying all existence. However, humans need language to direct the attention to the ineffable. There are many names for this mystery. The doorways were holy too” (p. 13).

She continues with a very UU perspective (I’ve heard of it describes as “the light shines through many windows. We respect all windows and welcome everyone, except for those who think they should throw rocks through everyone else’s window!”):

“Spiritual surface structures open human beings to encounters with the ineffable…I have no doubt when my father bows his head in a small Utah town, and when I meditate in quiet sublime stillness, we touch the same source. At their best, religious traditions affirm the wonder at the heart of existence and provide meaningful contexts for its experience. This mystery allows us to breathe, dream, love, and dimly perceive so,etching beyond time even while we live in time…The moon is simply the moon, a miracle enough” (p 16).

I connect to this sense of wonder, with no need for explanation or interpretation—isn’t it is enough, to just marvel at what is? On my other blog, I once wrote:

I also have a favorite passage from Susan Griffin about the earth in which she exclaims, “We are stunned by this beauty.” That is exactly how I feel. This relationship to the planet is what used to make me feel that a conception of deity was unnecessary—isn’t it enough to just marvel at what is, right here in front of us? The majesty and the miracle of the natural world. I am stunned by this beauty. I am stunned by the realization that we are all suspended in space, spinning timelessly through the universe on this beautiful planet, so small in the vastness of all that surrounds us, and yet so big that it is literally our whole world. Sometimes when I have a bad day or feel overwhelmed by the swirl of daily tasks I remember that old saying about, “sometimes I go about pitying myself when all the while I am being carried by a great wind across the sky.” If we really stopped to think about this—to sense how we are carried by the great wind, I think the whole world would change, how people relate to each other and to the environment would be transformed. Stop, look, listen, breathe, and feel how we spin. Together.

Moving into birth, Glenn addresses the potent, transformative aspects of birth in describing attending her sister’s birth, the birth that led her into doula work (before the birth of her own son): “Birth brings powerful and painful sensations to the most intimate spaces of the female body…I stood transfixed by the life-giving strength found in her feminine power.”

She also explains:

“All forms of birth–physical, intellectual, spiritual, or emotional–bring one to the depths. The power to give birth originates in the creative life spirit birthing all, the seen and the unseen. According to Joseph Campbell, the source of life is beyond gender and the duality of male and female. However, when symbolizing the power that creates, Campbell argues the representation is ‘properly female.’ I agree. From this universal goddess energy emanates the seasons, the mountains, the rivers, and the galaxies. Writ large, human birth embodied the process of manifesting dreams, working diligently through our labors, and bringing vital energies to life. On this level, all human give birth. All humans participate in life’s creative energy…

On this level, we all need the renewing powers of ‘rhythm, ritual, and rest.’ This phrase reminds doulas of three helpful labor techniques outlined by legendary doula trainer, Penny Simkin. Rhythm, ritual, and rest not only aid birthing women, but they support all of us to move skillfully through our life’s labors. The power of rhythm restores vibrancy through dance, music, and motion. The power of ritual opens the way to direct encounter with the mysterious wonder of life. Rest renews and restores the very cells of our often tired and over-stimulated bodies and minds.” (p. 28-29).

And, she makes some poignant observations about breastfeeding, one that almost made me cry: “…only a child knows what his mother’s heartbeat sounds like from the inside” (p. 67) and one that made me cheer: “Family and friends need to draw a fierce circle of protection and non-interference around the nursing mother-child dyad.”

In giving birth to her own son, Amy’s awareness and understanding are further deepened and expanded and she explains that:

“For me, birthing was a crucible moment, a dying, a deepening, and a healing. The light of birth transformed me into a mother. The light of birth is love. Looking back I see this clearly. Love was the pain and joy. Love restored me as I rested and held me up when I transformed into a wild eyed Kali. Love chanted with me in the birthing tub and love was certainly the epidural. Love pushed my baby out and gazed at me through Taber’s eyes. Love sustains me now as I watch his sweet small mouth suckle…” (p. 68)

Towards the end of this sweet, thoughtful book, she also used a great analogy that I’m going to borrow for my human services classes. She posits the scenario in which you are passing by a pond on the way to work and notice a small child drowning. You are wearing an expensive pair of new shoes and rushing into the water will ruin them. Do you rush in? The answer is YES. No one should choose their shoes over the life of the child and almost no one would respond to this scenario by saying that they would not save the child, yet, if the pond is world poverty, we do in fact, choose the shoes every day…we just aren’t looking those children in the eyes at the time…

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Disclosure: I received a complimentary copy of this book for review purposes.

Film Reaction: Birth Story

Jul12

I have never met anyone with more than a passing interest in birth activism who has not heard of Ina May Gaskin. She isn’t referred to as a the world’s most legendary midwife for nothing! But, how did she get this way? The new documentary film, Birth Story, helps explore that question.

Prenatal visit

“The feature-length documentary BIRTH STORY: INA MAY GASKIN & THE FARM MIDWIVES tells the story of counterculture heroine Ina May Gaskin and her spirited friends, who began delivering each other’s babies in 1970, on a caravan of hippie school buses, headed to a patch of rural Tennessee land. With Ina May as their leader, the women taught themselves midwifery from the ground up, and, with their families, founded an entirely communal, agricultural society called The Farm. They grew their own food, built their own houses, published their own books, and, as word of their social experiment spread, created a model of care for women and babies that changed a generation’s approach to childbirth.

Forty years ago Ina May led the charge away from isolated hospital birthing rooms, where husbands were not allowed and mandatory forceps deliveries were the norm. Today, as nearly one third of all US babies are born via C-section, she fights to preserve her community’s hard-won knowledge. With incredible access to the midwives’ archival video collection, the film not only captures the unique sisterhood at The Farm Clinic–from its heyday into the present–but shows childbirth the way most people have never seen it–unadorned, unabashed, and awe-inspiring.”

I really enjoyed Birth Story. It skillfully weaves together vintage footage, commentary, and births with a present day shadowing of Ina May in her natural environment: at the Farm. The documentary shows her working in her kitchen, eating, talking to her husband, watering plants, riding her bicycle, teaching workshops, training midwives, going to prenatal visits, and finally, attending a very hands-off gentle waterbirth. It also lets us peek at images from the early days of The Farm community, the caravan of buses, the dreams of Stephen Gaskin and the “hippies” who followed him to Tennessee. Birth Story is not just a film about Ina May though, it chronicles the experiences of several other Farm midwives as well, and I loved hearing the commentary and opinions of the less-famous midwives who helped transform the birth world.

I found footage of Ina May with Stephen to be particularly poignant and very much enjoyed the vintage photos and footage. I also find it interesting how The Farm began because of Stephen’s leadership and ideas and yet Ina May took off as the ongoing famous person in the family. Of Stephen, Ina May explains: “He thought women we supposed to be uppity—this was great relief, I didn’t like being held down.”

Ina May describes her own first birth explaining that in typical birth climates, “there’s nothing about the special energy of birth and that’s kind of the most important thing…I felt like I was doing something sacred.” She also makes the basic and crucial point that the number one rule of maternity care should be Be Nice and laughs as she asks us to consider how just those two words could change maternity wards. There are only a handful of actual births in the film, three of which are from sometime in the 1980’s. We see a breech birth (a lot more hands-on than I think of present-day midwifery practice) and a shoulder dystocia, both rare occurrences in birth films. We also see brief footage of Ina May’s Safe Motherhood quilt project and a brief discussion of disparities in maternal mortality rates.

Another highlight of the film for me was midwife Pamela, whose birth we also see on-screen. She is shown telling us about an early birth she attended saying, “I fell in love with women. How can you see someone be so strong and not fall in love?” Exactly. My doula and friend, Summer, who watched the film with me, developed her reaction to this quote in a lovely blog post and it reminds me of my own past post about my own former midwife who helped me see that midwife means loves women. Ina May explains that she learned how to be a midwife by allowing herself to be instructed by the women themselves and then she trained other midwives. As I watched Birth Story I found myself feeling a little sad, nostalgic, and bittersweet, because I feel like the world that these beautiful midwives envisioned has yet to really be birthed and that in some ways we’ve gotten so far away from the relationship-oriented and community living/engagement model upon which The Farm was based.

My initial feeling as I watched the film was that it would be primarily of interest to people already very familiar with Ina May, thinking that it may not appeal to or interest “regular” people. However, the friends I viewed the film with had totally different perspectives. One friend told me she thought her husband would really have liked the documentary, particularly for the emphasis on community. The one husband who was present reported that he thought everyone should see the film and not just people who are already “birth junkies.” So, I stand corrected, and will now say that Birth Story has the capacity to engage with many people!

In 2007, I had the opportunity to listen to Ina May speak in person at the La Leche League International conference in Chicago. She talked about sphincter law and made the association with our bodies’ capacity for bowel movements and women’s physical capacity to rebound from childbirth. I will never forget her saying: “I don’t know about you, but my butt closes back up after I poop.” That summed her up for me: plainspoken, real, matter-of-fact, and practical. She’s a legend!

Starstruck? Oh, yes I am. My husband said, “these people are like your *celebrities.*”

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Disclosure: I received a complimentary screening copy of the film for review purposes.

Addressing Unexpected Outcomes in Birth Classes

Jul10

“Birth brings powerful and painful sensations to the most intimate spaces of the female body…I stood transfixed by the life-giving strength found in her feminine power.” –Amy Wright Glenn writing about attending her sister’s birth (Birth, Breath, & Death)

What About Unexpected Outcomes?

If one factor contributing significantly to a woman’s satisfaction with her birth experience is having better than expected outcomes, how then can birth educators prepare women for unexpected outcomes? As Pam England notes, “Many women are conditioned to believe that if they have lots of information, then they will ‘pass the test’ or be able to control their birth outcome” (England, 2007).

Is it possible to truly prepare couples for unexpected outcomes? Though others may disagree with me, I have to wonder if the answer is “no.” (I confess to also wondering the same thing about truly preparing for giving birth!) I used to spend a whole class session on complications/unexpected outcomes, but suddenly awoke to the realization that most people’s whole lives have been a “class” in “birth complications.” Do they really need to hear it from me too or am I undermining the very confidence I seek to build? Undoing the new messages and competencies I’ve tried to instill?

Instead of a whole class on complications, I switched to spending a short section of class asking couples what they were worried about or if they had fears about specific complications. (Since I usually taught classes one-to-one, there was a certain sense of security with sharing vulnerable emotions that may not be present with larger class settings.) Bringing fears out into the open to “look at” helps shift the perspective from “frozen” fears to coping strategies. After they share their concerns, I usually mention maternal or fetal death because I believe it is important to acknowledge this most scary of fears. I also encourage them to include options for unexpected events during labor or with mother or baby on their birth plans (based on the birth planning worksheet in the book Pregnancy, Childbirth, and the Newborn by Penny Simkin). I share that most births—if not all—involve some element of surprise, the unexpected, loss, or grief. It could be as “small” as disappointment with the baby’s appearance or a sense of loss/grief of the specialness of being pregnant or as a big of a surprise as a baby in the NICU or even death of the newborn. It is normal and okay to experience feelings of grief and loss whether the unexpected event is “big” or “small.” It is helpful to have an understanding of the possibility of the unexpected and the emotions that follow.

I believe this acknowledgment and recognition as well as asking for their personal fears is more helpful as reviewing each and every complication of birth (which is how many CBE programs train their educators!), especially given the widely stated observation that couples dismiss and forget information shared during class that feels—consciously or unconsciously—irrelevant to them (this often includes complications or even postpartum and newborn care). I believe that a generally stated recognition of loss in all its forms is more likely to “stick” because it brings it into the couple’s personal sphere instead of being a more academic exploration.

For possible questions for exploring worries see: Worry is the Work of Pregnancy | Talk Birth.

—

This post is modified from a sidebar originally published in the International Journal of Childbirth Education accompanying my article about Satisfaction with Birth. I re-post it now in anticipation of a planned post about rituals for coping with unexpected outcomes…

Tuesday Tidbits: The Role of Doulas…

Jul9

“So many of us are already working towards this aim – mamas (and groups) like LLL for sure, and doulas, women-centred midwives and doctors, and so many others…but really we need more. And there is no time or space for petty jealousies or in-fighting (and no judgments here, because it happens! I know the pain of this kind of sh*t, I’ve written a little about it before – and I may again – but it’s urgent we move beyond this if at all possible…) because we are already losing it – losing this capacity to give birth without intervention, to feed our babies from our own bodies, to experience love and connection in the fulness of which we are intended to be capable…” -Rebecca Wright (see more on why all of us are needed)

In “The Doula Phenomenon and Authentic Midwifery: Protection as a Keyword,” Michel Odent, writing in Midwifery Today issue 104, Winter 2012 describes the cultural conditioning of birth to think that women can’t do it on their own:

In this age of videos, photos and television, one cannot ignore that our current cultural conditioning is mostly determined by visual messages. Let us mention the powerful effects of the recent epidemics of videos and photos of so-called ‘natural childbirth.’ Almost always, several people surround the labouring woman. Young generations familiar with these pictures understand that the basic need of a labouring woman is to be accompanied by several persons. The effects of these visual messages are reinforced by the modern vocabulary, for example, to give birth women need a ‘coach’ (bringing her expertise) and support persons (bringing their energy). More than ever the message is that a woman has not the power to give birth by herself.

We must add that this cultural conditioning is now shared by the world of women and the world of men as well. While traditionally childbirth was ‘women’s business,’ men are now almost always present at births, a phase of history when most women cannot give birth to the baby and to the placenta without medical assistance. A whole generation of men is learning that a woman is not able to give birth. We have reached an extreme in terms of conditioning. The current dominant paradigm has its keywords: helping, guiding, controlling, managing…coaching, supporting…the focus is always on the role of persons other than two obligatory actors (i.e. mothers and baby). Inside this paradigm, we can include medical circles and natural childbirth movements as well.

Odent then goes on to explain that while the word doula comes from ancient Greek, actual modern-day Greek people advise him to use the word “paramana” instead, meaning literally, “with the mother.” He concludes his article with these important thoughts:

The doula phenomenon must be interpreted in the context of a period of transition. When the doula is understood as the mother figure a young woman can rely on before, during and after the birth, the doula phenomenon can be presented in a positive way as an aspect of the rediscovery of authentic midwifery. When, on the other hand, the doula is still another person introduced into the birthing place in addition to the midwife, the doctor and the father, her presence is counterproductive. If the focus is on the training of the doula rather than on her way of being and her personality, the doula phenomenon will be a missed opportunity. [emphasis mine]

I am concerned when I see rivalry between doula training organizations, because I think they are doing just this: focusing on the training of the doula rather than her way of being and her personality.

A long time ago I saved these two relevant, if somewhat opposing, quotes about doulas, culture, and advocacy:

First about doulas and collusion with patriarchy…

“I hate to say that the rise in popularity of doulas has done absolutely nothing to alter the status quo of hospital birth, but this seems to me to be true. In the past 10 or so years, the popularity of doulas has risen dramatically. And so has the rate of C-section and interventions in general. Am I suggesting correlation or causation? Absolutely not. Do I think that doulas are well-meaning, amazingly hard-working women who are truly passionate about women and birth and are trying to make a positive difference? Yes yes yes. But sadly, I don’t think they’re going to get anywhere. Because hospital birth is the collision of female power and patriarchy, and we aren’t going to change anything by behaving ourselves or adopting the approach of our oppressors. (No, this isn’t hyperbole. I really believe it).”

Doubts About Doulas (and patriarchy and stuff)

And, second about not bringing “politics” into the birth room…

“Now I understand there is a type of doula for everyone. Some women benefit from doulas with a more no nonsense attitude, the ones that don’t sugar coat things or come off more “militant”. Other women prefer a lighter touch or a more “middle of the road” doula. I respect the differences and the need for them. However, I believe there should be a separation of doula and advocate. Politics, in particular your own personal politics, have no business at the birth of your client. Once a client is in labor, any personal agendas should be checked at the door. There is a more appropriate time and venue to try and change faulty birth practices.

I think the same thing goes for the myth that we empower women through these actions at her birth. A woman’s power to advocate for herself and birth in the way she wants isn’t ours to give. It’s her birth and it has to be her job to find the power and be empowered. We can help, we can guide, we can even lead, but we can give that to anyone. Sadly though, through our actions, just like the hospital staff, we can take it away…”

Doulas and Advocacy: Are they mutually exclusive?

And, then, some more thoughts about the difference between activism and advocacy:

Activism, advocacy and support. As a birthworker I am always using one of these three tools. Sometimes I am using two at once, but never all three. And here is why: Support and advocacy can overlap. Advocacy and activism can overlap. But if you try to overlap activism and support you are going to be either ineffective, alienating, or both…

Activism, Advocacy and Support – To Brave Birth

We definitely need advocacy though and this is why:

Horrific abuse in childbirth happens every day in developing nations where women and their babies are often denied access to life-saving obstetric care.

Freedom for Birth – Can Anyone Argue Against Respecting Women’s Rights in Childbirth?

And, regardless of where or with whom or in which country women give birth, they deserve access to evidence-based care: What is Evidence Based Birth and Why Should I Care? — Giving Birth with Confidence

Birth is also a creative process:

“I believe that this is one of the important things about preparation for childbirth–that it should not simply superimpose a series of techniques, conditioned responses to stimuli, on the labouring woman, but that it can be a truly creative act in which she spontaneously expresses herself and the sort of person she is. Education for birth consists not, as some would have it, of ‘conditioning,’ but aims at giving a woman the means by which she can express her own personality creatively in childbirth.” –Sheila Kitzinger via More Thoughts on Birth as a Creative Process | Talk Birth.

And, birth matters a lot. It isn’t “just one day.”

“Homebirth cesarean mothers do not complete their births the way they planned, worked for, meditated on, and dreamed of. As a result, their births as mothers are left unfinished. As I told my therapist when my son was six months old, “His birth was finished but my birth, into being a mother, that’s been left hanging.” –via Homebirth Cesarean: “I was still an authentic mother.” – Momma Trauma.

In non-specifically-doula, but birth-related news, I finished some new sculptures and updated my etsy shop! And, one of my breastfeeding mama sculptures was featured in a neat Etsy treasury called Supporting Breastfeeding.

Yesterday, I finished downloading the The Business of Being Born classroom edition kit, which I’ll be reviewing here and hopefully using in my community development class in August. And, I’m also looking forward to finally watching/reviewing Birth Story: Ina May Gaskin and The Farm Midwives on Thursday with my Rolla Birth Network friends! Speaking of Rolla Birth Network, plans are underway for the second annual Mamafest event in Rolla, MO on August 10th. This is a pretty epic event given our smallish town and associated resources. It really was great last year and I expect nothing less this year! I went a little crazy online and bought all kinds of supplies so we can make our own bindis at my booth at Mamafest. I also bought a lot of new charms for several purposes and I’m going to donate my favorite footprints-on-my-heart charms to the Rainbow babyloss support group to make miscarriage memorial charms at their Mamafest booth.

And, finally, as I shared on Facebook earlier this week: I love it when my two-year-old points at my belly casts on the wall and says, GODDESS! And, I’m like, yes, yes that’s me… 😉

Vacation, Phase 3: Legoland

Jul6

I apologize to any new followers who are wondering where the birth stuff is on this birth blog anyway! I’m on a roll with my vacation recap posts, so bear with me as I finish my series, then I’ll get back to business 🙂

After the tourmaline mine, we checked into our new hotel, The Carlsbad by the Sea Resort, and left behind our beloved Ramada Carlsbad (lamented over for every day we spent in a hotel after that!). We went to the beach and out to dinner with Mark’s best childhood friend and his wife who coincidentally now live not that far away from where we were in CA. The next morning, we hopped up for phase three of our journey, two days at Legoland. We started out the day feeling like we’d made a pretty grievous error in thinking it was remotely sensible to go to two different theme parks back-to-back (three if you count California Adventure as separate from Disneyland–you do have to pay more for it and go through a totally separate gate to get in, have your ticket scanned again, etc.), with only a single day’s break doing hard manual labor digging through rocks in the hot sun in between the big park adventures. We were all super tired, the kids said they would rather just go to the beach, and it was Memorial Day. Actual bleeping Memorial Day and there we were headed off to join the masses of other yahoos getting spun around in the sun. I was also worried that Legoland’s rides/atmosphere would not measure up to Disney’s and with only a day’s separation, the contrast would be just too clear. We ended up leaving the hotel a little later than I wanted and got to the park only fifteen minutes early. I fretted all the way over about the “crowds” and we cooked up a plan to leave and go to the attached SeaLife Aquarium as soon as it got too crowded at Legoland, then return to do the rest of the park the following day when we anticipated it would be less crowded. We decided to pay to park there, so that we could go back to our car to feast upon peanut butter sandwiches rather than expensive park food. Imagine our surprise to pull into a nearly empty parking lot…then walk right through the entrance gate and straight up to stand right by the rope closing off the attractions until the opening moment. Turns out that Memorial Day at Legoland was the best. It was practically empty all day and was basically perfect.

Since I didn’t have a lot of foreknowledge or expectation of what the park would be like, I just enjoyed it a lot. Very Zen of me, but this loosening of any attachment to outcome or experience, really freed us up to just enjoy what is. Legoland was one of the highlights of our whole trip for me because we actually felt laid back and relaxed there and it was so unexpected. Alaina was big enough to go on just about every ride and we were flexible about stopping to play on “little” stuff we would have breezed right by at Disneyland. I’d read a tip online not to go to Legoland for the rides, but to go for the experience. The post I read said that if you went for the rides you’d be disappointed, but if you went to watch your kids have a good time and to enjoy the full experience of just being at Legoland, you’d have a blast and we did. We sat in the Duplo Village and let the kids build with huge Legos and climb into big Duplo playhouses, we actually went to The Big Store and to the Minifigure Market and let them buy (surprisingly affordable) souvenirs. We never shopped at all at Disneyland, too much GO! Keep MOVING! Oh, and remember my “get your money’s worth” obsession? Legoland is practically free compared to Disneyland too. And, we actually found on clearance cool stuff at one of the shops that we bought for people for Christmas—cheap, significantly discounted, things that people will actually want (can’t say what in case they read my post!). When I think about Disneyland, I remember how hard we pushed and how we “triumphed” and enjoyed pretty spectacular highlights like working the single-rider line at Radiator Springs Racers. I felt really successful about getting the max we could out of Disneyland for our dollars spent. And, almost all of the rides there truly amazing events and not mere “rides.”

When I think about Leogland, I remember things like watching the kids play in the water park area and pushing Alaina on the swing and watching her “drive” the blue Lego car she was obsessed with and of all of us sliding down the big slides of Dune Raiders in sacks as a family and riding up to the top of the Beetle Bounce all together and feeling our stomachs wooosh as we rode back down, of sharing tasty Granny Apple Fries without feeling like we were “missing” something or “wasting time,” of my boys’ faces as they ran through the Aquarium exclaiming in amazement at everything they saw as well as their sheer delight at touching real sea cucumbers and sea stars. I remember Alaina lifting her arms above her head and screaming as we zoomed around the Coastersaurus together and of Mark shoving another mom and kid’s little Lego boat around as we crept around the little Lego boat school riverway at a total snail’s pace, but with our kids really driving their own Lego boats. We did almost nothing at Disneyland that involved all of being able to go together as a family, since we had to keep switching off with one adult going on the little rides with Alaina and one boy, while the other maximized the efficiency of going on a big ride with the other boy. Legoland is built for kids in the 3-12 range, basically. It was all families with kids at about those ages—we saw no teenagers in the whole place, it was like an entire demographic was missing. Lann, at almost ten, was almost “too old” for a lot of it (but he wasn’t and he never said anything like that). Alaina, at two, was “just right” for almost everything and probably had the most fun of us all. My expectations of Legoland were lower, but the experience was actually richer in many ways. I loved it! Of course, I loved Disney too and it was a trip to remember, but there is something to be said for just having fun with your family. Duh.

As far as the rides, think kind of like basic carnival type stuff, no show-stoppers or big thrills. The very “biggest” rides at Legoland are about as good as the rides at Disneyland like Gadget’s Go Coaster and Goofy’s Sky School and most of them were much tamer and not as good as things like Alice and Little Mermaid. And, they’ve got no clue how to do ambiance like Disney does. It is really a park for pretty young people, which is fine, because that’s what we’ve got! Many of the rides were very sloooooow paced, but having the whole family be able to ride them together was pretty priceless. And, my boys never complained about anything being too slow. I will always remember the thrill of shared discovery of going together to somewhere that none of us had ever been and didn’t know what to expect and of the sense of the “bonus” surprise of having a practically empty park to ourselves to enjoy. It put us on the same playing field in a sense, in which we could all discover and experience things together for the first time, rather than having the parents already know everything about Disneyland.

Oh, they had big signs all over about NO OUTSIDE FOOD OR WATER, so we dutifully left ours in the car and went back out at lunchtime (which was a genius plan, btw), but everyone and their brother brought water in…we saw them…and no one ever said anything to stop them.

The second day was surprisingly much more crowded than actual Memorial Day—there were lots of school buses there for end-of-the-year trips. So, after enjoying some of the things we missed the day before, we headed to the Sealife Aquarium, which was another unexpected sleeper hit. It is structured oddly in that they only let you in as a group and you have to wait for group to go in with. And, once inside, you process sequentially through without any real opportunity for backtracking to see anything you’d like to see again. It had a very one-way-street feel and you just kept going until you came out at the food court at the end. Alaina desperately wanted to go back to see tiny turtles, but there was no real way to do that without being re-admitted. Anyway, at the Aquarium is where we finally saw the looks of joy and delight and excitement on Lann and Zander’s faces that we’d expected to see at Disneyland. They had so much fun and acted like it was the greatest place they’d ever been.

Interestingly, I note that I have way more pictures of our Legoland expedition as well, because I actually was moving slowly enough to pay attention and enjoy what was around me! As always, click on any picture to enlarge and then scroll through slide-show style to see bigger images and captions.

: Heading in! Imagine me saying, “this is the least crowded we’ll see it all day, HURRY!”

: Hmm…surprisingly low-key inside. Time to linger and look at the water while we wait for the line to drop.

: I expected all the dang buildings to be freakin MADE OF LEGOS. Hello!! I was a little disappointed that the big set-type buildings were just boring non-Legos.

: See what I mean about tame? This moved about .25 miles an hour.

: But, there was a fake sack pig outside the BBQ place…

: We had an embarrassing moment here where Mark and I both crammed into this tiny helicopter together and they had to tell me to get out! (I hurt my leg too, wedging myself into the tiny seat!)

: This was cool! Alaina was too small for this tea-cup-esque Bionicles ride though and that was disappointing.

: Wave Riders was pretty cool.

: I’ve rarely seen such cheese-tastic, questionnable “moral” lessons, disguised advertising crapola as the two “4-D movies” at Legoland. They should be embarrassed by them! At least Zander is a cutie-pie!

: Swinging at the water play area by the Pirates Landing stuff.

: We actually had the time to go change into bathing suits and come back for some water play!

: Birth Goddess at Legoland?! Oh, yes.

: Me and Indy hanging out. We both like birth goddesses.

: This was one ride that we actually had to wait a spell for. I loved it though!

: Yes, you do actually have to pedal to make it go. We thought that was a psychological effect only as we watched people’s feverishly and ridiculously pedaling along in the air, but we experiemented and if you stopped pedaling, the car did, in fact, also stop.

: This was a cool actual-size minivan made totally of Legos!

: This kind of thing is weird and unncessary and I took a photo in feminist disapproval (there is a Lego man taking a picture of her)..

: The sought-after blue car. It doesn’t go anywhere, but that doesn’t matter!

: Alaina got uber-crabby right before the Duplo village and stood in this playhouse yelling at me.

: (I said no)

: See what I mean about the rides? BUT, this was one our three kids could go on sans-adults and with like one other person on the whole thing.

: And, see their little faces?!

: Miniland!

: Darth Vader!

: Star Wars Miniland was amazing!

: One cool, unexpected thing about Star Wars Miniland to me was that they use NO minifigs in it. All the characters are built out of Lego bricks.

: Big Minifigs! The kids loved these and had to stop and be photographed by every single one.

: Lann smooched Wicket, but we said that was probably a bad idea because one thousand other kids could have done the exact same thing…

: Alaina sneaked through the barrier for a hug.

: I tried to get Mark to hug or smooch R2D2, but alas, he refused.

: Darth Maul is such a snuggler!

: Coooool!

: Posed at Miniland!

: But…also an outtake capturing how I was REALLY starting to feel! Time for those PB sandwiches! 😉

: SeaLife Aquarium had cool stuff like this that was just ideal for our hands-on, active, climb-around kids.

: Sticking their heads into this bubble actually puts them IN the tank with the fish! Cool!

: Thank goodness for big brothers who can cram into bubbles with their little sisters so she can see too.

: This underwater tunnel thing was A-MAZING. We could have stayed for ages. We all loved it.

: See?! Finally awe-struck instead of asking to go back to the room to watch cartoons!

: Looking at stuff.

: These were my favorite. What the heck are they? Little snakey-fish things peeking out of the sand! Loved em.

: Alaina was similarly entranced.

: A real Nemo looking picturesque.

: Sea cucumbers!

: I took this picture as a means of communicating the lower key vibe of Legoland compared to Disneyland. The Lego tix are on the left and Disney on the right!

Legoland closed at around 5:00, so we actually had plenty of time to go back to enjoy the beach!

: Ah, the gorgeousness of beach stones…

: I decided to make “names in the sand” beach rock pictures. The first was for my friend’s baby girl.

: The second for my own Noah.

: Stopped for some sandy nonnies.

: Mark kept looking for rocks for beach names for me.

: We did Mamoo’s name last.

: As I made Mamoo’s name, I thought about how I hadn’t had any “signs” from her. Then, in the middle of that thought, I looked down and right by the “M” in her name was this rock. I held it all through the memorial service I did at the internment of her ashes and all through my speech at her Celebration of Life luncheon.

Vacation, Phase 2: Himalaya Tourmaline Mine

Jul5

When I say we went on a trip to California, I’m seriously talking about a trip. This was a multi-phase, multi-destination, multi-purpose, multi-plane-trips, heck of a trip. Essentially, it was four different vacations in one, plus it was a family visit for my grandma’s memorial services. The second phase of the journey was a trip to the Himalaya Tourmaline Mine near Lake Henshaw, California. We’re a family of rockhounds and have wanted to go to this mine ever since we saw it on Cash and Treasures a couple of years ago! Unfortunately, we discovered that it was not a good match for the toddler among us. If we were doing it again, we would have only paid for Mark to dig (kids dig free), because I seriously wasted my money by paying for me—I did almost nothing, because Alaina got so clingy and crabby and whiny and wanted to be held the whole time (incompatible with digging up piles of rocks and carrying them around in buckets and lifting them into washing pans and sorting through them). It was hot and all the kids got fed up and really wanted to leave. We did not find very much in general and it did not feel like it was worth the money and time we spent. We did find some small pieces of pink and green tourmaline, so it wasn’t a total bust, plus we were able to check this off our bucket list! Lake Henshaw was about an hour’s drive from Carlsbad and it took us through several reservations. I felt sad to see the apparent poverty all around and then a gleaming, tricked out Harrah’s right in the middle of the dust and scrub of what was clearly very undesirable, inhospitable desert land.

After driving from Anaheim the night before our mining expedition, we checked in to the Ramada Carlsbad. They had overbooked during Memorial Day weekend and so upgraded us to a suite. And, it was a sweet suite! It was our most favorite hotel room we’ve ever stayed in. We loved it! I need to start checking out suites everywhere, because it was SO much better than a regular hotel room. We hated to leave it—unfortunately, it was only a brief stopover of a hotel and we had to switch to the Carlsbad-by-the-Sea Resort instead (which had also been overbooked for Memorial Day and was unavailable on this one night that we stayed at the Ramada. Since the Carlsbad-by-the Sea Resort seemed completely unprepared for us to arrive, in hindsight, I wish I would cancelled that reservation and remained at our beloved Ramada for the remainder of our time in Carlsbad). We barely had time to take advantage of the sweet suite though. We didn’t arrive until the late evening and then left immediately to go to the OCEAN! It was Alaina’s first glimpse of “big water” and the boys wanted to play on the beach even though it was dusk. We then left and went to Wal-Mart to get something for dinner to microwave in the awesome kitchen of our sweet suite. Our credit card was denied for the first and only time on our trip while on this expedition—apparently, plane tickets and Disneyland tickets, and rental vans, and gas purchased up and down the state do not raise any flags, but a 9:00 stop at a Wal-Mart in Oceanside is a red flag for likely fraud! I got multiple text messages and an email from the credit card company and had to call them the next day to sort it out properly!

Now, pictures! (to enlarge, just click any picture and then continue to click through the slide-show format rather than the thumbnail views below)

: Alaina’s first sight of the ocean! Yes, she is wearing a shower cap. That’s another story 😉

: My fam!

: Happy to be here!

: Best. Hotel. Ever.

: A living room with kitchenette!

: Two bedrooms!

: The following morning: getting ready to sift through rocks at the tourmaline mine.

: Adorable.

: The boys quickly tired of actually trying to find any gems and instead…

: played with the mud (looks like they’re working hard though).

: I became obsessed with finding the tiny flowers of the desert.

: A bee! It makes me sad how it feels like a rare treat to see a bee lately.

: Attempted (and failed) to set the children up with a movie so that I could continue to dig. I did NOT get my money’s worth and we should not have paid for both adults to dig, because the kids needed one of us with them.

: Back to the OCEAN where everyone wanted to be!

: I flipped out with the joy of beach rocks and collected way too many.

: Sunset in Carlsbad.

: My haul–taken home to make runes! 🙂

Next, we headed for Legoland for two days!

Trumpet blast! This is my 800th post on this blog! I wanted to do something fun/special for my 800th post, but I couldn’t really think of anything, so I just went with what I felt like writing, which was this second installment in our vacation saga. I’ll do something special when I hit 1000 instead! 😉

Vacation, Phase 1: Disneyland and California Adventure

Jul4

Time keeps on slipping, slipping, slipping and I have been torn about whether or not to do any California trip recap posts the way I had intended. I had a lot of thoughts, observations, tips, and memories that I felt like sharing, but as more time has passed the “have to” element is starting to feel burdensome rather than enriching. I took all the pictures though and thought of the tips…

We flew into LAX on a Wednesday, rented a van and then drove to Anaheim where we stayed in the Clarion Anaheim. I specifically picked the hotel because it had a little café in it in which kids could eat free breakfast, lunch, and dinner. There was no free breakfast for adults, but I figured that was outweighed by the kids also being able to dinner for free. The little restaurant was called the Palm Tree Cafe and it was so good. I read mixed reviews online, but the paninis we had there were truly the food-highlight of our entire vacation. We never ended up eating better food anywhere else that we stayed during the whole two weeks. Of course, hunger is the best seasoning and all and when we staggered in exhausted from our Disney fun, we were so grateful to have food that it was the best food on earth. The breakfast buffet was really good also with lots of fresh fruit and also bacon. And, the dishes were all real—cloth napkins, real forks, etc. I feel like the hotel choice was smart for the food, but it was longer walk from Disneyland than I anticipated and we ended up having to buy the ART pass after all so we could take a shuttle to and from the park. It wasn’t expensive and it was totally worth it.

We did walk to Downtown Disney on Wednesday night and we also walked home from the park one afternoon and to it one morning. We accidentally were there during the Monster summer event (celebrating the release of Monsters University) in which the park was open 24 hours and it was also Memorial Day weekend. Pretty unexpected bad moves for us! Oh yeah, and it was also Grad Night on both Friday and Saturday nights, for which all the graduating high school seniors in the state were there for a special event (apparently 10,000 of them, I read!). In hindsight, since we had three-day park hopper passes, we totally should have gone to the park for half a day the day we arrived on a Wednesday, rather than going on the Saturday of Memorial Day for a partial day. I guarantee that Wednesday afternoon/evening would have been more “productive” than Saturday was. Thank goodness we had Thursday and a “Magic Morning” (get in one hour early) that day, because Friday night (the 24 hour event night) was insane and Saturday was pretty horrible after about noon (it only opened at 10:00 a.m. on Saturday too, which was a bummer).

Things I wanted to remember to say or wish I had remembered to do:

Needed long-sleeves for the kids–it was surprisingly chilly a lot of the time.
and needed hats to protect from sun. Mark, Alaina, and I all had one, but the boys did not.
the Ergo was an absolutely life-saver. I do not know what we would have done without it. Alaina rode in it constantly. I joked that I felt like I was “two years pregnant” because of how I waddled all over the park with her strapped to my chest. (I’ve never been one for the back carry with the Ergo—it puts pressure on my neck/shoulders that way and feels like it is pulling me over backwards. It also gives me tension headache-migraine-of-awfulness, which I had the entire first day, but ignored in the spirit of fabulous fun, even though a part of me imagined drilling several small holes in my skull to let out the pressure. On the front, we’re golden, except for the two-years-pregnant waddle and the slight ridiculousness of carrying a massive person around on your chest instead of back.)
a nice, everyone-wins compromise about expensive food in the parks is to get things to share so that everyone gets a “taste” of park food and then supplement with packed snacks or leave the park to eat other food. For example, we went to the Hungry Bear restaurant, but instead of getting a whole lunch for everyone, we got a chicken sandwich for the adults to split and one kids meal for the kids to split and two of the big, fancy lemon cupcakes for the family to split—so, everyone got to enjoy the satisfaction of eating a fancy cupcake, without actually having to buy five of them! This cut down on some of the bugging from the kids about buying food all of the time, but saved us money. And, btw, the boys didn’t even finish eating their entire pieces of the split-in-thirds $6 cupcake, so I’m triply glad I didn’t buy them each one!)
I read a tip online that if you are doing Disney with young kids, you should to go back to your hotel room for a midday siesta and recharge time–this would be during the hottest part of the day when things haven gotten crowded. Then, go back over in the late afternoon when daytime visitors are heading home. We did this on Friday and it was a good choice, because we were able to eat our beloved, life-saving paninis at the Palm Tree Cafe and rest a bit, before heading back into what had become madness.
If children are bugging for yet another treat, go to the Ghiradelli chocolate store at California Adventure and they’ll give you free chocolates!
Good shoes really matter. Even though they didn’t match my outfits, I brought my favorite pair of Teva Terradactyls to wear and never regretted it.

Here is my Facebook summary of our Disneyland and California Adventure adventure:

Thursday at Disney was great. We ran ourselves ragged and were exhausted and hungry, but we did almost everything there was to do at Magic Kingdom. We had a “Magic Morning” on our tickets for that morning, so we got in an hour early. Plus, we quickly learned that Alaina was our best “fast pass” ever and took the slightly scammish approach of collecting as many rider switch passes as we could in the morning when lines were short and then going back in the afternoon and actually using them when lines were longer. We felt like we’d gotten our money’s worth and fully “done” Disneyland by the end of the day on Thursday. On Friday, the parks opened at 6:00 in the morning and so we did California Adventure that day. It was pretty good in the morning though headliner rides were closed until 9:00, which was obnoxious, but smaller rides were walk right on affairs. The big Cars ride was a different story, but we worked the single rider line and the rider switch (because of Alaina) and got it done swiftly too. We also looked pathetic enough, I guess, at the Toy Story ride, which was the last ride we hadn’t done there, that the entrance guy gave us a special pass to come back in an hour and go straight through the fast pass entrance.

Most of the smaller rides remained walk right on or maybe 15 minutes—so, Little Mermaid was gone on like five times or more and the Monster’s Inc ride and Muppets 3D, etc. were all easy access as were all the little rides in Bug’s Land (Alaina’s favorite) and things like Mater’s Tractors in Cars Land. It was the night when it started to get insane–we went back to Disneyland thinking we’d do a few things before Fantasmic and it was an awful mob scene over there that was virtually unwalkable (but, it was how I worried the whole three days might be, so I shouldn’t complain that it was really only that time). We found a place for Fantasmic that was actually good viewing because we stood behind the chairs for the premium viewing, which meant people were sitting and thus we could see over them. And, the nice people in front of us said our kids could come stand in front of them so they could see even better. They actually closed access to Fantasmic then and wouldn’t let anyone else in to that section of the park. When it was over, we staggered slowly away through unbelievable crowds and out a “secret escape route” we were directed through that took us behind the kitchens and where the Jungle Boats are stored and stuff like that. Handily, we watched the fireworks as we staggered and then went gratefully to the hotel even though it was not even 10:00 and the parks were still open until 6:00 in the morning!

On Saturday, the parks didn’t open until 10:00 and were already pretty busy. We did as many favorite rides as we could and got some rider switch passes for big ones and fast passes for Space Mountain (Lann actually ended up going on Star Tours four different times thanks to our fab strategies), but it quickly turned into even 45 minute waits for things like Alice and Roger Rabbit. We went back to California Adventure and did some final rides there, either on the little kids stuff which still was only five-minute waiting, or to things we’d gotten switch passes for in the morning (so, we successfully did Cars with less than a 20 minute wait two different times, even though the regular line was 120 minutes and the line to even get a fast pass was crazy). So, it wasn’t really THAT bad, all things considered! 🙂 We just had to push really hard and drag kids to things they were saying they were too tired for, because we knew it was getting worse all the time. We were worn out! But, we got our money’s worth anyway! Legoland was much slower paced.

In general, I feel like maybe we actually pushed too hard—I felt like we didn’t have enough food, enough clothes, enough water, enough sleep, or enough rest pretty much the whole time and the kids got pretty whiny and complained a lot more than I ever did at Disneyland as a kid (and my mom was the exact same kind of pusher that I was, so it wasn’t that I had a more laidback time—getting our money’s worth is a powerful motivator in this family!). We walked a LOT and got pretty exhausted and depleted (the kids more than the adults—I felt pretty hyped up and almost “manic” the whole time!). The kids all had colds and mild fevers for at least one of the days. Mark got horrible “burns” on the backs of his knees from his shorts rubbing against them and I got a similar spot on my shoulder from my hat. All of our feet ached like crazy by the end of the day even with our carefully selected good shoes–I felt like perhaps I wore my heels to the bone! I feel like our kids will mainly remember excessive walking and being hustled from one place to another and usually getting NO for an answer about buying more and more and more expensive snacks, rather than all the fun we actually had once we got on the rides!

While I toted Alaina around in the Ergo for hours (often while nursing) at Disneyland and Legoland, I also had a lot of reminders that she is not really a baby anymore: strolling up to real babies to check them out and saying gently, “hi, baby!” with her knees bent slightly, head inclined, and hand outstretched in friendly manner; riding on genuine rollercoasters at three theme parks while laughing and (fake) screaming and raising her hands in the air and saying “fun!”; crabby expression and raised hands and “yes, bigger!” when told she is too small to ride something…she’s a real girl now!

Pictures, pictures, pictures! (Click on any to enlarge to full size and then scroll through like a slide show, rather than peering at the tiny gallery pictures)

: I was utterly charmed by Alaina pulling her own suitcase as we left the park-and-fly hotel in St. Louis.

: So, I took lots of pictures of the same basic scene. Hurts my heart in a good way! I also have video of her pulling it through the airport. Did I mention we did this two week trip with carry-on luggage only?!

: On Wednesday, we went to Downtown Disney for a little taste of Disney without having to use our admittance passes. It was a loooong walk and we ended up going UNDER it and having to backtrack with practically crying children.

: I didn’t take many pictures of the cool builds outside the Lego store because I assumed we’d see cooler and/or identical stuff at Legoland. Turns out we didn’t—there were no Disney Lego builds at Legoland that I saw!

: No Hulk at Legoland either, just a bunch of Star Wars stuff.

: Got ice cream at Haagen-dazs

: Thursday morning, Alaina picked leaves and went on the”big tea party” while the boys enjoyed Star Tours (collecting a pass for me that I later used when it was mobbed)

: Iconic castle shot taken by friendly stranger.

: Cheated and took picture-of-picture of my solo-ride on Splash Mountain.

: Alaina was stoked to see Tigger, but then recanted on desire to see him.

: It’s a Small World…getting hot and crowded by this point. 45 minute wait.

: Trying out the frat boy look.

: This is pretty much how we looked the whole time!

: Ready for “adventure.” I have to laugh because the ONLY time I lost my hat during five days worth of theme park rides was on It’s a Small World. It is that exhilirating…

: Couldn’t resist pix of this fab face!

: I don’t think I mentioned that she had a fever on this day. No wonder she rode in the Ergo and nursed almost all day.

: Back to the “big tea party.”

: And, back to Star Tours. Unlike when I was a kid, the ride now is different each time. Lann went on it four times and it was never the same scenario. The first time I went on it and the droid scanned the “ship” for the escaped rebel, it was ME and my face showed up on the screen (I thought it was some kind of Disney magic in which each person on the ride somehow saw their own face, but Lann confirmed that it was actually me that was shown on the screen).

: At California Adventure! We liked this cool backdrop of “downtown.” Those aren’t real building or sky!

: Part is set up in this old-fashioned kind of way. This is close to where the Fisherman’s Wharf-type section begins too.

: Lann loves these swings!

: On the roof of this building, I spied several sets of mouse ears ;-D

: My sweetie on the ferris wheel!

: The boys balked and completely refused to go on the ferris wheel, leading me to say slightly unbecoming things like, “I’m having fun here regardless of whether anyone else is or not!” And, I did.

: Alaina loved going on the carousel.

: Cars Land was awesome! Look at the cool cone motel just like in the movie! Also note cold arms pulled into sleeves. We really did need warmer clothes for large parts of the day (and in other parts would have been sweating, so, oh well!)

: Radiator Springs Racers was our new favorite ride.

: Lann loved it…

: So much, that we worked the single-rider line and he went on it ALONE (I ended up in the car ahead and waited for him to get off).

: Disney does ambiance right. Look at the Grizzly “mountain” that is part of the Grizzly River Run ride!

: Mark waves after his solo trip down the run. It was kind of awkward to have to ride alone/without any friends when we did the solo ride/parent swap thing and I was interested to notice how I bonded with/chatted with whichever strangers I ended up stuck with as a seat-filler. I realized after laughing and chatting about how splashed I got, that to them, I was a random, weird stranger horning in on their family’s raft! (though, later they rode past me and waved and yelled hi with genuine smiles like were really were good pals.)

: These delightful signs were all over the place…how reassuring…

: Back to the “Big! Blue! Fish!” on Alaina’s favorite carousel.

: Nightime castle before Fantasmic.

: This is what a day after Disneyland done right looks like! 😉 “Best ride of the night” we told the shuttle driver gratefully! See the manic gleam still in my eye though—I would have kept going!

: Lann on the Racers.

: While Lann and I were racing, Mark and the other kids went on Luigi’s Tires. Splitting up like we did worked REALLY well and kept everyone happy and busy and with very little waiting.

: Storm Troopers! I almost ran after them…

: Oh wait, I did, and took a picture of Darth too at the Jedi academy thingie.

: Finally hauled ourselves onto the slow storybook ride. I love the little models. Did not love having to wait almost an hour for it. It was now when things started to get overcrowded/frustrating/tiring.

: Cool stuff though!

: Looking up to see if she meets the height requirements for Gadget’s Go Coaster in Toontown. She did!

: Back to Space Mountain using our saved rider switch pass.

: Luckily, there is large marble in water to entertain the toddler set while the mother flops on a bench and looks for Storm Troopers.

: We saw the actress and some actors from Austin and Ally filming a scene.

: Back to the Racers the final day. Thanks to the single rider and the rider switch, we were on in fifteen minutes (and this time, we ended up in the same car, just in different rows).

: Goofy’s Sky School took on grail-like significance when it kept closing right before we had a chance to use our rider switch and go on it. It was the last ride “unturned” for Lann and for me and I was obsessed with getting to ride on it. We made it as the last ride before we left on Saturday! We felt very triumphant even though it isn’t a particularly good or fancy ride. I felt like I should get a t-shirt. Or, at least a trophy!

: Mark and Lann then used our last switch pass to go back the Radiator Springs Racers (which then broke down and so our scammish saved pass didn’t help that much–waiting at the front of the line is still waiting!) and I took Z and Alaina to the water play area in Bug’s Land. I swear Zander had the most fun of the entire trip just doing this!

: He loved this so much!

: And, as a fun conclusion to our adventure we watched the big summer parade.

: Bye, Mater! It was fun to visit everyone!

We left after the parade and drove to Carlsbad, California to prepare to go tourmaline mining!

Tuesday Tidbits: Breastfeeding

Jul2

“Rules and breastfeeding do not go together well.” –Dr. Jack Newman (LLL of Missouri conference)

Today was our monthly La Leche League meeting and so it feels appropriate to share some of the breastfeeding tidbits I’ve collected recently (or in the past!). I heard Dr. Jack Newman speak at the LLL of Missouri conference and once again enjoyed his refreshingly straightforward and honest style (i.e. “don’t listen to what the health department says, go ahead and let your baby sleep with you!”). I previously heard him speak about Controversies in Breastfeeding at the CAPPA conference in Kansas City:

Colostrum and formula are the same in the following ways: both are liquid.

Breastmilk does not need to supply vitamin D (makes no sense to describe breastmilk as “deficient in” or “lacking” vitamin D).

With regard to the high incidence of reflux being diagnosed in babies—his response to why so high is, “because [most] doctors don’t know anything about breastfeeding.”

We learn one thing when we hear that the mother has been told to feed her baby X number of minutes per side—>the person telling her this does not understand breastfeeding.

There are no such thing as “flat nipples”–women have normal nipples. We live in a bottle feeding culture that makes us assume that if a mother does not have nipples that stick out like a bottle nipple, the nipples are flat (**Molly’s own note–we also live in a culture where 75-90% of women have epidurals during labor which can contribute to edema in the breast and the accompanying appearance of flat nipples).

via Controversies in Breastfeeding | Talk Birth.

And:

Dr. Newman also emphasized the important point that the burden of proof rests upon those who promote an intervention! He was speaking with regard to recommending formula supplementation, but I strongly believe it applies to any birth practice. So simple and yet so profound. One example that he shared that is familiar to birth advocates is that lying down for electronic fetal monitoring is a position of comfort for the care provider, NOT for the mother.

And, he made this excellent point: “All medical interventions, even when necessary, decrease the mother’s sense of control, and increase her sense of her ‘body not being up to the task.” Again, the burden of proof rests on those who promote the intervention, not vice versa.

via The Impact of Birth on Breastfeeding | Talk Birth.

At the recent conference, during his presentation about when babies refuse to latch, Dr. Newman said this:

“Even if a baby doesn’t take to the breast right away, even by 2-3 weeks, almost ALL babies will latch by 4-8 weeks if the mother has an abundant milk production.”

He also reminded us that one cause of latch difficulties is because of the expectation that babies latch on immediately after birth. Many of us are familiar with this and expect all babies to nurse within 20-30 minutes of being born. Dr. Newman says that for some babies, it is normal not to nurse right away and that trying to make them nurse before they are ready is actually a way of creating a real problem with latch. He says that most babies will latch on within 24 hours and that it isn’t necessary to worry about that.

However, speaking of the impact of birth practices on breastfeeding and the potential for babies not to latch immediately after birth:

How could that be, I wondered? If so many mothers have their milk come in after 72 hours, doesn’t it make that pretty normal? Doesn’t this undermine the definition of late onset of mature milk (post 72 hours)?

But then I remembered that many obstetrical practices are associated with late onset of mature milk…

via Booby Traps Series: Obstetrical practices are making late milk-coming-in the new normal. | Best for BabesBest for Babes.

Exactly! This conclusion is supported by data from the recently released Listening to Mothers III Survey, with the following factors known to cause a delay in milk coming in:

Cesarean birth. The CDC reports that 33% of births in 2010 were by cesarean.

Labor induction and augmentation. The Listening to Mothers III Survey found that 41% of mothers said that their providers tried to induce their labor, (63% of those inductions involved pitocin), and 31% had their labor augmented with pitocin.

IV fluids. The Listening to Mothers III Survey found that 61% of women had received fluids by IV (55% of women who birthed vaginally and 77% of women who birthed by cesarean).

Labor pain medication. 83% of mothers in the Listening to Mothers Survey reported having had labor pain medication.

I’ve also recently complained about my toddler’s relentless night-nursing ways and so I enjoyed this article about the benefits of night-nursing:

…Did anyone ever tell you that… in lactating women, prolactin production (prolactin is the milk-making hormone) follows a circadian rhythm? Studies have shown that breastfeeding women’s prolactin levels are significantly higher at night, particularly in the wee hours of the morning. Babies often want to nurse at night because quite simply, there’s more milk at night! (Source) Aren’t our babies smart??

via 5 Cool Things No One Ever Told You About Nighttime Breastfeeding | Breastfeed Chicago.

And, the notion of specific “maternal fat stores” has reassured many a mother in my LLL group:

…First of all, don’t worry – losing your butt does not mean you are losing your ability to breastfeed. In fact, it means that breastfeeding is working as intended!

The fat around your hips and thighs is called your gluteofemoral fat. This is a very special kind of fat, as it is largely made up of Omega 3 fatty acids.

Omega 3 Fatty Acids breaks down into;

DHA, EPA and ALA…

via Breastfeeding Shrank My Butt! – Rachel Sketch.

Returned to birth-related stuff, the summer edition of the Friends of Missouri Midwives newsletter is finally ready! Check it out and enjoy. The theme for this issue was Movement. The issue also includes a funny, gritty, and inspiring birth story from Halley, who blogs at Peace, Love, and Spit Up.

“It’s not just the making of babies, but the making of mothers that midwives see as the miracle of birth.”

-Barbara Katz Rothman

In other news, my husband had his 36th birthday and I made him a fabulous German chocolate birthday cake with homemade icing (half with fresh coconut and half without coconut, so we were both happy). The recipe uses three sticks of butter and seven eggs!

Last week, my photographer friend Karen did a photo shoot for my other friend of Goddess Garb and I helped her model her gorgeous robes!

Of Coconut Oil and Maternal Shame

Jun29

“It’s not your job to like me, it’s mine.” ~ Byron Katie

I planned to write this post on Thursday and I was going to open my imaginary post with: today has been one of those days. I didn’t manage to post, so I was going to post on Friday and say, yesterday was one of those days. Well, guess what, Friday turned on to be one of those days too and now it is two o’clock in the morning on Saturday…and no post yet! I’ve been hitting some parenting roadblocks lately and having some unpleasant moments with my kids. Moments that I’m not proud of and that feature me crying on the floor in the pile of broken glass (and broken dreams?!) as well as saying harsh things I later regret. Alaina isn’t sleeping well at night and I’m at that point in toddler nursing where I spend more time feeling assaulted than I do feeling warmly bonded. On Thursday, she kept me up until 4:00 a.m. and I felt trapped in a “hell dimension.” However, as is often true of mothering, sweet moments alternate with hell dimensions. That morning as I was trying to finally sneak away from her, she flopped toward me and mumbled in her sleep: babies love em mamas. Yep, they sure do! Earlier this month, she charmed my heart by commenting: “Me love mine daddy Mark.” Taking a couple of steps back shows me that being literally exhausted does not contribute to my parenting reserves and does not, actually, mean I’m a bad parent after all. I’ve been known to tell students in my Child Welfare class that worrying about being a “bad mother” usually means you aren’t one. I need to take my own advice.

So, I identified with this article about the whole notion of “mommy guilt” and how the phrase may actually be a cover for a more insidious and culturally-induced mommy shame:

Just one problem: “mommy guilt” isn’t really guilt at all, but rather shame. And shame, unlike guilt which is a useful and sometimes appropriate emotion, shame is just harmful. Guilt is “I made a bad choice”, while shame is “I am bad”. Guilt is something that helps us to notice when we’ve made an error that we need to correct. Shame makes us feel as though there is nothing we can do to make it better other than change who we are. Of course, changing behaviors is one thing; changing who you are as a person is another (impossible) thing entirely.

via “Mommy Guilt” is a Misnomer – Mothering Community.

I think a lot depends on personality. I know a lot of mothers who do not seem to take things that happen with their kids as personally as I do. Just yesterday, we had an incident during which my boys experienced a catastrophic brain failure and had a mayonnaise fight on the porch front of the house while I was trying to get ready for company. I ended up crying and ranting to myself about my pathetic talents as a parent (because I said something pretty mean to them about their lack of brain-powers). Another friend commented, “let me get this straight: your kids throw mayonnaise around and you’re the one who cries and thinks you did something wrong?” Um, yes, that’s me. I also explain to my students that it is really painful to know better and to watch yourself do it anyway. It stinks. Knowing a lot about the right way to do something, for me, gives me a lot more options of things to feel guilty or bad about! Isn’t that FUN?! As I previously wrote:

Being a mindful mama can be painful.

I am acutely aware of how often I fail, mess up, and let myself down in this work of conscious mothering. When I decide to go through a drive-through after a long day in town, I am very aware of each preservative laden, saturated fat heavy, factory-farmed, non-fair trade bite that crosses our lips. When I’m tired and have low energy for responsive parenting and I say “yes” my boys can watch a DVD, I know I am using it as a “babysitter” and as a “plug-in drug.” I cringe to hear myself say at times, “you guys are driving me crazy!” It is painful to know better and to watch myself do it anyway.

Instead of an inner guide, I too often listen to my inner critic. My judge. The perfect mama that sits on my shoulder and lets me know how often I screw it all up. I laugh sometimes as I reference the invisible panel of “good parents” that sits in my head judging me and finding me lacking.

For me, being a mindful mama is bound up in complicated ways with being a perfect mama; a “good mother.” In this way, it is NOT true mindfulness—I respond to my children based on how I think I should respond, how a “good mindful mama” would respond, not necessarily based on what is actually happening. Too often, I respond as I believe Dr. Sears, Jon Kabat-Zinn, or Marie Winn (The Plug in Drug) thinks I should respond, not based on reality or how we feel in the moment. This is the antithesis of true mindfulness. Mindfulness means an awareness of what is, it does not mean a constant monitoring of how I have failed. If I cannot be flexible and compassionate with myself, how do I expect to be a flexible and compassionate mother?

via Mindful Mama: Presence and Perfectionism in Parenting | Talk Birth.

Though I wrote this essay something like four years ago, I’ve not yet corrected this tendency and my desire to be able to do so, guess what, gives me something else to beat myself up over! I call this, “berating self for self-beratement” and then I berate self for berating self for self-beratement. Repeat. I am an introvert and I do enjoy my own company very much, but sometimes it is mean and mind-twisting company that I keep.

This post initially began because after the previously referenced night trapped in a non-sleeping hell dimension, an entire brand-new jar of organic coconut oil got smashed all over the kitchen floor by Alaina, because I foolishly dared to dash quickly to the bathroom while cooking. While cleaning it up, my other children did not grasp that asking me to tie their bathing suits at the moment was NOT A GOOD IDEA. Enter the mother-crying-on-the-floor-in-pile-of-broken-glass-coconut-oil-and-broken-dreams scenario previously alluded to. The whole experience stemmed from not listening to my own need to go to the freaking bathroom before fixing lunch. Duh. How basic. I just wrote about that this same week. I ran through the shoulding, the scolding, the self-beratement, the catastrophizing, a touch of martyrdom (everything I do is about trying to help my kids and now look!), a touch of guilt-tripping and blame (couldn’t you have noticed and stopped her?!), some yelling, some I can’t believe its, some semi-screaming about how is going to the BATHROOM REALLY SO MUCH TO ASK, some ranting about how coconut oil costs $9 a jar and why don’t I just throw dollars all over the floor and then sweep them into the trash, and then culminating in a hysterical diatribe about “what am I teaching my kids about handling simple little no-big-deal mistake by acting like it is the end of the world? THIS is how you’re going to grow up and think you should handle things.” SOB!!!!!!!!!!!

I read this on Facebook and said oh yeah:

One zen student said, “My teacher is the best. He can go days without eating.”
The second said, “My teacher has so much self-control, he can go days without sleep.”
The third said, “My teacher is so wise that he eats when he’s hungry and sleeps when he’s tired.”

And, I read this too:

If you ever see me out and about with my kids, you might be surprised at some of the interactions you might witness. For example, If you and I were in the same store today, you might have overheard my comment to my son that went something like this: “NO! You can’t!”

It didn’t exactly come out of nowhere; there was context. But that was about the extent of it. There was no empathy, no connection, no acknowledgement of what he wished he could do, no communication of understanding, no “I can tell that you reeeaallly wish you could take that toy home; We’re not getting it, and it’s OK to be sad about that.” Just a snappy, rude no.

If you saw me then and didn’t know me, it might surprise you to learn that I write and teach classes on positive parent-child relations. And if you do know me and saw that little outburst, it might surprise you to see me communicate to my child in this manner. And no matter what you might think of me based on this interaction you may have witnessed today, I won’t be offended. Because…

I know my son.
I know myself.
I know positive parenting.

I know that was not an example of positive parenting.

I know positive parenting is not based on one interaction.
I know my son will be OK.
I know we’ve had plenty of awesome parent-child moments before this one.
I know there will be plenty more.

I know our relationship will be OK.

I know other moms have moments just like this everyday.
I know they’re good moms.
I know I’m a good mom.

I know that in every situation, context matters, judgement never helps, and those moments are just small parts of a larger whole. Fortunately, parenting looks different for everyone and perfect for no one.

Kelly Bartlett

I was heard to lament on Friday afternoon that I worry that I’m a better writer than I am a person. I get complimented on my “lovely words” and “beautiful poems” and I think, how come I can write lovely words and then still yell at my kids? I’m horrible! (The maternal shame card is strong with this one.) And, I reminded myself of something I already wrote:

Womenergy moved humanity across continents, birthed civilization, invented agriculture, conceived of art and writing, pottery, sculpture, and drumming, painted cave walls, raised sacred stones and built Goddess temples. It rises anew during ritual, sacred song, and drumming together. It says She Is Here. I Am Here. You Are Here and We Can Do This. It speaks through women’s hands, bodies, and heartsongs. Felt in hope, in tears, in blood, and in triumph.

via Womenergy (Womanergy) | Talk Birth.

I also came upon a very old partial essay that I wrote when my second son was about two in which I tried to convey the every day, sometimes simultaneous and paradoxical dualism of parenting:

Every day I succeed. Every day I fail.
Every day I listen. And I say, “I can’t listen to you right now” or “PLEASE stop talking.”
Every day I am patient and impatient.
Every day I savor and cherish. And every day I am resentful and frustrated.
Every day I am focused and attentive and also distracted.
Every day I play and every day I say, “I can’t play right now.”
Every day I say yes. And no. Every day I say, “sure, why not?” and also, “now is NOT the time.”
Every day I hug and snuggle. Every day I say, “please stop hanging on me.”
Every day I please and disappoint.
Every day I center and pause appreciatively in the moment. And, every day I rush and hurry.
Every day I watch and notice and every day I say, “not now, I’m busy.”
Every day I am responsive and every day I am frazzled and DONE.
Every day I rise and fall.
Every day I hope and despair.
Every day I am captivated and captive.
Every day I offer guidance and a bad example.
Every day I am consistent and inconsistent.
Every day I make myself proud and I let myself down.
Every day I embrace and pull away.
Every day I am clear and confused.
Every day I am decisive and indecisive.
Every day I am empathetic and “I don’t have time for this!”
Every day I am encouraging and discouraging.
Every day I feel bonded and bound.
Every day I support myself and make myself crazy!
Every day I give and every day I feel completely done giving.
Every day I permit and deny.
Every day I feel a sense of promise and a sense of being denied.
Every day I am calm and exasperated.
Every day I am gentle and harsh.

Every day I hold and tend and nurture and protect.

Every day I am a good mother and every day I am a “bad” mother.

There are no absolutes.

On that coconut oil bad day, I then packed up the kids and went to the river, where they walked adorably in the water together:

Caught crawdads:

And helped each other in ways that warmed my weary and critical heart:

The forced perspective in this one makes me laugh as well as the fact that it kind of looks like she’s carrying two tiny brothers!

But, lest this be a too-tidy wrap-up of my post, while at the river, bugs crawled on our legs, the kids whined a lot, people sat on the cracker sandwiches I was making, the cheese I brought was actually rotten, and we forgot our crawdad catchers and I once again expressed non-positive-parenting sentiments about children’s brain-powers since I had reminded them to get the damn crawdad catchers like 8 billion times. The dualism again.

We got home and got ready for Lann’s tae kwon do class in the whirlwind and as I was about to leave, I saw THIS:

What’s this you say? Here is another look…

Yes, that would be some kind of Ben 10 action figure stuck to my wall with playdoh. WTH?!?!?!?! This is the very same playdoh that I complained about earlier in the day when finding the container empty—“hey guys, where did the playdoh go? Hey guys, can you find that green playdoh, I don’t want it to get stepped on somewhere.” When I saw this, I could only laugh.