Tuesday, January 20, 2015

2014: Whiplash

True to my procrastinating form, I am writing my 2014 review weeks after the New Year has arrived. At least I'm consistent.

2014 was a very harsh year for so many people. I saw many, "dear 2014, fuck off!" posts on various social media sites as the year came to a close. It was brutal for a good many of my friends. It was just ones of those years that seemed to be messy for a large number of people. This includes my own family.

We started 2014 out with the usual New Year hopes and dreams, promising ourselves that it would be an incredible year. Life had already been a struggling for the year or so beforehand and we were optimistic that everything would turn around. In some ways, it did, but every step forward was met with several steps back. It was a recurring theme for the year.

I have incredibly mixed feelings about 2014. While we struggled in so many ways, we were also met with incredible kindness and help from literally all over the world. Living in poverty prompted me to share our story, which I did on my friend's blog, Poor As Folk. My story went a little viral and people from all over donated to our family. We received monetary support to help with our bills and food, as well as clothing and food and goodies for the kids. We also received kind words, advice, prayers, support, hope, commiseration from all corners of the globe. Knowing that so many people were thinking kindly about us and cheering us on was the greatest high. Additionally, many people shared that they had thought unkind things about people living in poverty and what I had written inspired them to look at the situation differently and soften their hearts. Experience all of this goodness from people was nothing short of awe-inspiring and I still have trouble finding adequate words to express how it affected me and my family.

Of course, when you become so exposed there can be a negative side. For the first time in my blogging life, I experienced actual hatred coming from people. Me and my story were the subject of many a thread on message boards, reddit, Facebook, etc. I read untrue and unkind things about and my family from people convinced that I was trying to scam the world. To this day, I am still discussed in such a manner and people still come to this blog  to leave comments accusing me of duping the public. I can lie and say it never bothered me. Of course it did. I don't like being accused of lying. I definitely don't like being accused of stealing. I've never had much negativity on my blog, other than people yelling at me for my language or telling me I'm a dumbass for hugging trees. So, it was all new to me. However, even in this bout of negativity, I would have people emailing me to say they found my blog via these message boards and they read something of mine that inspired them or helped them - I had quite a few share some emotional releases about their own miscarriages. I still don't know how I feel about it. Part of me wants to really lash out, but what does that solve? Some minds cannot be changed because they do not want it. It doesn't matter how much I explain, how many of my real life friends say, "she's legit, yo!" and how much I attempt to understand where they are coming from (and as someone who fell for an online scam a long time ago I do get the mistrust), they don't want to hear it. Another part of me completely believes that quote - "Don't let people pull you into their storm. Pull them into your peace." (Kimberly Jones) So - hugs. Finally, there is another piece of me that's like, "fuck it. Let it go. Move on." So, fuck it. I cannot let *those people* drown out those who have shown me love and support.

2014 forced me to seriously change my perspective about myself in several ways. I am a very stubborn person. I do not like to admit to myself that I can't fix everything. I've always been a fixer. Friends in a fight? I'll fix it. Friend in trouble? I'll fix it. Got myself in a bind? I'll do it myself. I don't need people. If people come and go, that's fine. I'll live. I can do it all on my own. I have prided myself in my ability to unfuck a lot of things and be totally independent. To finally lay it out on the line that things in my life were not okay was both frightening and freeing. I had hidden our financial troubles from friends and family for over a year. I had hidden my marital troubles for a long, long time. In 2014, I released it. I admitted to myself that I hadn't been doing a good enough job for myself or my family. I couldn't make everything better on my own. I couldn't make everyone like me. I couldn't save everyone. Financial struggles aside, I also had to deal with the truth about certain friendships and the hard truth about my marriage. I had been holding onto a group of friends, not speaking up about things that bothered me, letting hurtful things slide for a while. I didn't want the "friendship" to change, but I was forced to realize some of those people were toxic and that I needed to separate myself from the bad seeds in the group and stick with the good ones, letting myself understand that I would never "Fix" things the way I wanted. I had to be okay with that.

I also needed to learn to shut the fuck about the, "no one loves me," refrain that has played in my head for decades. Yeah, I can let myself go back to my school days and also to experiences in my young adulthood to see why I have had a hard time trusting people and letting them in. However, I also needed to realize that I'm 36 years old and the time for letting the past shape me has passed. I was too busy wondering, "gosh, does she actually like me or is she just pretending," to fully appreciate all of my friendships - and that's not good for any kind of relationship. I am constantly down on myself, telling myself that I am too weird and too odd for people to truly love me. Really stupid shit. To go back to our financial trouble - I had mountains of people helping me. My friends in my offline life held me up more times than I can count. They listened without judging and just held my hand through it all. They still do. I love my friends with all of my heart and I thank God for them constantly. I had to allow myself to feel worthy of their love, too. Clearly people like me, love me, respect me, and want to see me succeed. You don't get that from being a terrible person.

My health was another giant struggle. I have a quite a few chronic conditions that have been with me for many years. The biggies involve my heart, my esophagus, and my ears. My heart has almost been a non-issue for most of my life. It's problems have generally been manageable blips on the radar. I knew my esophageal issues (I still do not have a firm diagnosis, but they are leaning towards achalasia) had potential to become worse, but things had been quiet for a long time. Things with my heart and my esophagus changed a lot this year. I'm sure the mountains of anxiety have not helped my health one bit. In late Winter/early Spring, I began having frequent attacks with my esophageal condition. With these attacks, which come without warning, my esophagus spazzes, peristalsis halts, and food (sometimes just liquids) gets stuck. This causes extreme pain, lots of unglamorous drooling, and can impact breathing. Often, I can just wait it out and it will pass after 10 minutes. Other times, it won't stop no matter what I do. The risk there happens with the breathing as it causes pressure in the chest, makes breaths very short and shallow and can bump up the heart rate. The worry about loss of consciousness at that point. The unstoppable variety happened quite frequently this year, landing me in the hospital a few times. It's very frightening because you cannot breathe well at all and the pain is severe. The last time was right after Thanksgiving, when my 8 year old son was my hero and was able to call 911 (naturally, such an episode leaves me unable to talk). The remedy is a combo of IV drugs in an attempt to calm smooth muscle and, if that doesn't work, endoscopic interventions. Maybe I'll blog about it someday as it's way more involved in that and I know other people suffer from similar issues. As for my heart - she's been naughty. There have been many days an nights of pretty bad chest pain and rhythm disturbances. My cardiologist has seen me more in the last year than in almost all of the past 20 years since I began going to the practice. We've been trying to get to the bottom of everything, but my insurance company has stood in the way of needed diagnostics.  So, it's been a trying year. Every other week to every week has been quite a challenge with my health and it has lost me A LOT of work and has been a real drag. It's also forced me to look at how I take care of myself. Like most moms, I take care of myself last. I need to be better about that. Having my experience at Thanksgiving has really made me evaluate our family emergency plan. I am so glad my son knew what to do, but I know I need to step it up and have solid plans in place for situations such as these.

And my marriage. That is another blog post all it's own. The end has been coming for a long time, but this year has really solidified it. It's something we both know, but are not ready to fully accept yet. It's not for a lack of love or respect. Obviously, my husband has worked his ass off for our family and I will always love him for that. Unfortunately, there are many things that we may not be able to overcome. It's been very sad and frustrating. I have been living for quite a few years with the hope that things will get better, but the reality isn't supporting the hope and I may have to learn to live with it. For now, we are trying. There is a lot that is broken. We have both been ready to give up and throw in the towel so many times, but we are still here. Who knows?

I wanted so badly to end 2014 on top. I wanted to prove to everyone that I was worthy and that I could kick ass and overcome everything. That was my plan. I completely failed. As some of my readers know, I have beat myself up a lot in the past few months. I have cried, bitched, whined, hated on other people, hated on myself, wanted to give up, hated myself for failing my children and my loved ones. The end of 2014 had some dark times that quite a few friends saw me through. I have been disappointed in myself and disgusted.

I mean, I even got the Instagram and posted pictures of food and coffee. That's rock bottom. (I needed to break the negative vibe in this post).

I just can't do that anymore. I have kids. I have to keep my eye on the light at the end of the tunnel. I will not fail my kids. They deserve a mother who will not fail them.

I don't do resolutions for the New Year. Rather, I have goals at all times. For 2015 - I will make this year my bitch. Good things, people, good things.

Thursday, November 27, 2014

Life: Near and Far

I've always wanted a kitchen window
Not long ago, I was having a conversation with an acquaintance while shopping at the grocery store. She mentioned that she always wanted to write, but never took action. I encouraged her to write. I shared that I have a blog and that writing helps me declutter the brain. She said, "Oh wow. I don't know how bloggers do it. I love to read blogs, but I couldn't compare. They have such pretty houses and nice things and such pretty pictures. No one would want to see pictures of my house."


I certainly don't have a pretty house or nice things and I was, at the time, a little puzzled by her generalization regarding bloggers. I later did some internet searches and discovered "lifestyle bloggers," which is what she may have been talking about. I see what she means - lots of (filtered) photos on blogs and Instagram showing very bright, cheerful, organized homes and pretty, fancy, sparkly things....mostly from HomeGoods and Target, it seems. I was all, "ooooh" and "aaaaaaah."

I decided, I need in on that action. I can be a lifestyle blogger. I can show you pictures of my house. Right? Sure, as long as you don't mind reality. I'll show you the perfect pretty moment and then the big picture. There is always a bigger picture.

NEAR: Look at my pretty, pretty plate. Isn't it nice. I am obsessed (bloggers are supposed to say that) with these plates. It's Ikea. Such a nice plate. Simple design, evoking nature. I bought it because it's and oak leaf and I like oak trees.

FAR: This is where it was residing when that close up photo was taken. Mmmmm....dishes.

NEAR:I am a belly dancer. I write out class notes in a little journal. I also use it to write notes about upcoming performances, costumes, music, etc. I noticed a lot of people take close-ups of their journals, usually with some religious verse written down...and a vase of peonies written down. Bonus Jesus book in this photo along with one of my flower hair clips.

FAR: The reality of my dinner table. This is the "clean" version.

NEAR:Next on our tour: my desk. This is where the magic happens. This is where your Funky Little EarthChild writes all of her words. I have a minor office supply fetish. I am not ashamed to admit this. I spend more time than necessary in the office supply aisle of various stores. Back to School time is like Christmas for me. I'm sad to see my son go back to school, but I love me some pens, paper clips, notepads. Whew...I need to stop talking or I'll need a towel. Here we have my favorite Inkjoy pens in a cup thing. It's CHEVRON!!! I'm so fucking trendy. Also, a container of paper clips, binder clips, and thumb tacks. Wanna get turned on? That cost $0.44 cents on clearance. I know, right?

FAR: Behold, the wonder that is my desk. There's even an empty box of a filter sponge for fish tanks. Why? God only knows. There are receipts, yarn, half finished crafty projects, thank you notes..... Reality:

NEAR: My bedroom is a sanctuary of rest, relaxation, and beauty (and cats):

FAR: When we zoom out of this photo, we get the laundry pile of doom. It has no beginning and no end. It is nothing, yet everything. It will eat your soul. Also, cats.

NEAR: Books are important to my family. We all love to read. I may have gone overboard in my time when the Scholastic fliers came home from my son's school. A nice bookcase will help keep you organized. Yeah, there is a book called "EARTHCHILD" - pretty cool.

FAR: holy fuckballs, we are overloaded with books. Good books. Books about every damn thing imaginable. I need my own library. The bookcase is also a catch-all in this room. As shown here, sometimes me husband just randomly flings books onto a shelf.

NEAR: Finally, there is artwork. I love art. Most of the art on my walls was done by my son. Here and there are prints and paintings that I have picked up along the way years ago. This is one of my favorites - it's bright and cheerful to me. It's an Ikea. So posh.
FAR: This is the adjacent wall. The artwork here is a collaboration of two Renaissance masters: Monkey and Squishy. Monkey first began this piece at the age of 2. His young study, Squishy, added her own interpretation when she reached the age of 3 years and discovered the joy of sidewalk chalk.

You see, there is always a bigger picture. As humans, it's in our nature to compare ourselves to one another. Sometimes this is a great catalyst for making positive changes in our own lives. At other times, we get caught up trying to measure ourselves against what other people present and letting ourselves become a little green with envy.

The internet is an amazing resource. Various blogs, websites like Pinterest, Facebook groups, YouTube videos all provide us with so much inspiration and instruction. Again, sometimes we get stuck in that rut of comparison, getting down on ourselves because our house isn't Pinterest perfect or because our reality would never fit into the highlighted, whitewashed, filtered photographs on a pristine white background. Life doesn't belong on a white background with chevron sparkles and just a wee bit of blue filtering. Sometimes it's messy.

Lately, I have been hearing/reading a lot of comments from other people, primarily women, who feel bad about themselves because they feel like they can't keep up with that they see. They are down on themselves because their bed isn't made or their rugs are spotty or their kitchen counter is full of dishes from yesterday. They say, "I WISH I was (insert well-known very organized blogger name here)." Stop. Those photos we compare ourselves to our only brief glimpses into reality. Even the most perfect Pinterest queen or household blogger has a struggle somewhere. Some of them probably wish they were the image the present. They have dirty dishes, too.

Sunday, November 9, 2014

Top 10 Ways to Tell You Have a Boy and the Top 10 Ways to Tell You Have a Girl

Copyright - me. Don't touch.
I see many lists dropped here and there on the web that help parents tell if you have a boy or a girl. "Top 3874897 ways to tell you have boys" or "top 487589758574 ways to tell you have a girl" are popular themes in the parental webosphere.

I've decided to get on the gender list train as well. Why not? Parents could definitely use the help in determining whether they have a boy or a girl. It's not an easy job at all. What would we do without the help of clothing and toy manufacturers to remind us that girls only like pink and some pastel purple and boys only like any color resembling bloodletting from zombies.

I present to you two lists of the top 10 ways to tell if you have a boy or a girl. I have one boy and one girl, so I am naturally some sort of expert. Right?

Top Ten Ways to Tell You Have a Boy:

1.) Your child walks in the door, covered in mud and half a pine cone, and holds up a cicada shell and a live worm for you to, "please, please, please give kisses and hugs."

2.) You spend 25 minutes playing dolls. 8 of those minutes involve at least one doll being decapitated. 4 of those minutes involve you and your child pretend nursing a t-rex.

3.) Your child breaks out into song in the middle of the grocery store. By song I mean, "I love buttcracks! Buttcracks smell like farts! Fart, fart, fart. Buttcracks here. Buttcracks there. Buttcracks everywhere! And boobs!! We love booooooooooobs!"

4.) A sparkly tutu is required dress for gymnastics, ballet, t-ball, basketball, biking, hiking, grocery shopping, trips to the doctor, church, synagogue, dentist, tree-hugging ceremonies, school, pre-school, football, swimming, etc. etc.

5.) Five days out of the week consist of at least one scraped knee. The other two days consist of scraped elbows. There's a wildcard poked eye or bloody nose every other week.

6.) You've stepped on a Lego at least 17 times today.

7.) You have been asked nicely - translation: commanded in such an adorable way that you cannot say "no" - to wear a superhero cape and mask for the walk to the mail box.

8.) When you drain the tub after a bath, you not only find small toy boats, a couple of Playmobil guys, and a matchbox car, you also find quite a bit of dirt, some grass, and what may be half of a stinkbug.

9.) No fart goes unnoticed or unannounced. 99.99% of the time, it's cause for giggles.

10.) You've had at least one makeover that leaves you looking like the clown from Poltergeist, while your little one declares you, "the most beautiful princess in the world!"

And now:

Top Ten Ways to Tell You Have a Girl:

 1.) Your child walks in the door, covered in mud and half a pine cone, and holds up a cicada shell and a live worm for you to, "please, please, please give kisses and hugs."

2.) You spend 25 minutes playing dolls. 8 of those minutes involve at least one doll being decapitated. 4 of those minutes involve you and your child pretend nursing a t-rex.

3.) Your child breaks out into song in the middle of the grocery store. By song I mean, "I love buttcracks! Buttcracks smell like farts! Fart, fart, fart. Buttcracks here. Buttcracks there. Buttcracks everywhere! And boobs!! We love booooooooooobs!"

4.) A sparkly tutu is required dress for gymnastics, ballet, t-ball, basketball, biking, hiking, grocery shopping, trips to the doctor, church, synagogue, dentist, tree-hugging ceremonies, school, pre-school, football, swimming, etc. etc.

5.) Five days out of the week consist of at least one scraped knee. The other two days consist of scraped elbows. There's a wildcard poked eye or bloody nose every other week.

6.) You've stepped on a Lego at least 17 times today.

7.) You have been asked nicely - translation: commanded in such an adorable way that you cannot say "no" - to wear a superhero cape and mask for the walk to the mail box.

8.) When you drain the tub after a bath, you not only find small toy boats, a couple of Playmobil guys, and a matchbox car, you also find quite a bit of dirt, some grass, and what may be half of a stinkbug.

9.) No fart goes unnoticed or unannounced. 99.99% of the time, it's cause for giggles.

10.) You've had at least one makeover that leaves you looking like the clown from Poltergeist, while your little one declares you, "the most beautiful princess in the world!"

What? Those two lists are exactly the same? Dear God, NO!!! But....but....what about the mud and Spiderman just for boys? What about pink glitter and pink princesses just for girls? Mattel told us that little girls are supposed to want the Barbie life and little boys want anything that can be blown up. There can be no cross-contamination - right? That's what our overlords in the toy store tell us. They must be so different and they cannot be the same. I call bullshit. Sure, some girls decide all by themselves they only want to be pretty, pretty ballerinas. Some boys decide they are only interested in superheros. More often than not, boys and girls experience a mixture of what they like. And that's perfectly okay. They're kids. Let them be. 

Sunday, September 7, 2014

Check Out My Melons

Not a selfie
Everyone has been asking, "where did Funky go?"

Okay, no one has asked. However, bloggers are contractually obligated to say things like, "y'all have sent me a million messages," or "I get so many people asking me to...." I thought I'd try to fit in.

But I don't fit in.

Watch this space for more Funky Little EarthChild. It's been a crazy few months. I am normally a sporadic writer as it is. I've never had any type of regular or consistent content. Fear not, that will not change. Winky face. I just don't have the time to devote to writing every.single.day or every week.

Life has been full of ups and downs lately. Lots of goodness from friends and family. Lots of health badness that has finally calmed down in recent months. Lots of marriage turbulence. Kids growing and growing and growing. I have so much I want to write, but I don't really have dedicated time to just sit down for an uninterrupted period of time to let my words just flow. It would help if I wasn't such a wordy person. I fail at being brief.

If you've been emailing me - I'm sorry. For the time being, please message me on my Facebook page. I have a lot to wade through in Gmail.

This blog was targeted by what I have been told is a referral site. You get a billionty visits from this site and end up with a whole lotta spam comments. My recent post on oil pulling has been the primary target. I've learned that there is a hell of a lot of dental-related spam out there. Who knew? Thankfully, Blogger is pretty good about recognizing a lot of spammy stuff, but a few well-constructed comments have gotten through. I turned comment moderation on for the time being just to help clean up (because your ass is not making money off my page), but I will likely shut that off soon and return to regular comments.

Don't worry - there are plenty of selfies waiting to be shared. Okay, maybe not.

I did sell out and try out the Instagram. I don't quite get it. I even tried posting photos of food and my nail polish to see if I would get some happy tingling sensation, but I still don't see the point. For now, I can be found on Instagram as funkylittleearthchild. I'm not sure how long I will continue with it as I really.do.not.get.it. It's fun filtering stuff. I really know how to sell myself, don't I?

For those wondering, I have a follow up that I will be writing regarding a guest post I did on Poor As Folk.  I wrote a post called Jenn's Words. This is not news to most friends or fans of Funky Little EarthChild. I received a tremendous amount of support in so many ways, including a GoFundMe campaign. the amount that I have relied on the generosity this year is staggering and sobering. Unfortunately, I found out that a viral post of this nature and the subsequent outpouring of support isn't a beautiful thing in the eyes of some people and they can make assumptions, talk shit about you, accuse you of crap, etc. It's the first time I've ever dealt with that sort of thing on my blog and it definitely did sting a bit. It's hard to tow the bullshit line that, "words will never hurt me," because words can have a negative impact. I'm a strong woman and I've dealt with a lot in my life, but being falsely accused, misunderstood, and made fun of reminded me that I am more vulnerable and human than I think sometimes. Half of me wanted to come out in full force and attack right back, especially after there were words about my miscarriage. Another half of me wanted hide from it all. Advice - "go get 'em" or "ignore them, you're better than that," flowed. I responded in a mix - partly acknowledging things that were said, responding to comments and emails, and partly shrugging it off. There are times when people will make up their minds about you, for their own reasons, and they cannot be persuaded they are wrong.

I have a lot of words in this pretty little mind of mine. I plan to type some of them out very soon and get back into the swing of blogging, be it as sporadic as in the past or a little more regular. Time will tell.

Until then....much love.

Thursday, July 3, 2014

Love in Stitches

It just so happens that I am not a crafty person. I try. I learned to crochet a tiny little bit. I learned to knit an even tinier bit. I cannot sew. I can hand sew things to bras for belly dance. Other than a hand sewn bra, I've never completed a project. Hand crafts require a certain amount of dexterity that I seem to lack. That, and my focus sucks. I keep trying, though. I'm going to successfully knit, crochet, sew, etc., dammit!

When a group of friends decided to work on a collaborative project for another friend in which each individual embroidered a quilt square, I pondered my lack of talent, my zero experience in embroidery, and my inability to actually finish projects and said, "Count me in!"

Small and brief backstory - I belong to a group of mothers who all had children at the same time. It's like a Due Date Club that you see on mommy websites. We've known each other for years and have shared many ups and downs. One of the mamas there has been in need of a little extra love. Since we're all spread out over the world, we needed to come up with a way to give her a group hug. We decided that each one of us would pick out a fabric and embroider our name and maybe a little something extra to symbolize our respective personalities. We created a little group and all of the finer details were organized by a couple of our mamas, with one of them volunteering to take all of our squares, sew them together, do the whole batting and backing and trimming thing to turn it into a wrap.

I decided on a little belly dance symbol to represent me. Tribal Belly Dance is extremely important to my life. In this group, I pretty much give belly dance as an answer to all problems. Feeling bad about the world? Belly dance? Need to feel love for your body, no matter the shape? Belly dance. Menstrual cramps? Belly dance? Want to get active without killing yourself? Belly dance. World peace? Belly dance. It's been a big part of my life for several years. Deciding on that symbol was the easy part. Actually putting a symbol into stitches was terrifying to me.

I decided on a simple belly/hips with a hip belt and tassels as it's a rather common symbol to see regarding belly dance. I don't know how well it shows in my picture, but I added tassels to the hip belt as they are more closely associated with the tribal forms (especially ATS and ITS) of belly dance than with your traditional Raqs or cabaret belly dance. I am pretty sure I broke many rules about embroidery. I certainly did when it came to tying off my thread. I tried to learn some stitches via YouTube tutorials, but mostly winged it since I couldn't watch and stitch at the same time. I did what I did what I believe are split stitches. I was sweating and having heart palpitations the whole time. Haha. The hardest part was actually my name. I messed it up several times and ended up pulling the thread back out. This left a series a of holes in the project, which you may be able to see here. I panicked at that point, but the friend who was sewing the whole thing together said she believed the holes would shrink once washed and not to worry about it.

We spent a couple of weeks posting pictures of our squares. It was amazing to see the level of talent among our group of friends. Every single square was a beautiful testament to that particular friend. Eventually, all of the squares were sent in. Our friend sewed them all together, spacing with blank squares, lined it, backed it, and put an edge all around it. It turned out beautifully.

It was received just a few weeks ago, at a time when that mama needed it so much. She immediately posted a picture of herself wrapped up in our big hand stitched group hug. It's something she will treasure forever and it's a reminder to our whole group of the bond that we have shared over the years.

Tuesday, April 1, 2014

Breastfeeding: This is WAR. Or Is It?

Copyright 2014. Don't steal it. I'll cut you.
It's no secret that I'm a vocal supporter of breastfeeding. If someone wants to make a nasty comment about breastfeeding mothers or threaten those who nurse in public, I'm right there debating them. I have blogged about breastfeeding many times. I have discussed the issue of breastfeeding on my Facebook page constantly. I'm outspoken, supportive, and willing to educate.

But not everyone is comfortable being outspoken. Not everyone wants to post 100 memes in support of breastfeeding each day. There are many mothers who nurse in public who have zero desire to attend a nurse in. There are plenty of breastfeeders who don't want to write about it, talk about it at length, wear lactivist t-shirts, or put pro-breastfeeding bumper stickers on their car. Are they any less valuable? Is their input worthless?

There are some out there who would actually say, "yes." If you've been around long enough, you may have noticed that. There are folks out there who believe if you are not promoting and attending nurse-ins, passing around every fired up pro-breastfeeding blog post, creating and sharing memes, and wearing a pre-shrunk, nursing accessible, 100% organic cotton t-shirt declaring your lactivism, you are not doing enough. They believe we must all be in the face of opposition, beating our chests and chanting. It's as if we must always have the mindset that we are at war. Arm your tits and roar!!!

There's no doubt that the chest beating and chanting is effective. I'm one of those people, for the most part. I do not, however, blindly follow the crowd. I do not support every single nurse-in just because. I question if it's needed. Did the company show remorse? Did they show they are willing to accomodate breastfeeding mothers without harrassment? Yes? No need for a nurse-in. If you decide to do one anyway, I will not lend my support. I will not speak against it, but I will not promote it, either. That point alone caused someone to tell me that I set the entire Civil Rights Movement back. Yeah, little old me. Who knew I had so much power? I completely changed the course of history - Quantum Leap style - because I refused to promote a particular nurse-in (Applebees). That sort of hyperbole gets us nowhere. And guess what? I think comparing the plight of American mothers who nurse in public to those who marched for Civil Rights in the 1960's is pure bunk. Yeah, I said it. I wholeheartedly believe that we need to keep educating people, supporting one another, and making sure we don't get harrassed for nursing in public. I do not, however, equate our movement with the Civil Rights Movement. I have seen comparisons of mothers who nurse in public with African Americans who marched in the 1960's. While I appreciate the general sentiment, the idea doesn't sit well with me. Last I checked, none of us have been hosed down in the street, set on fire, bombed out of our churches, or murdered. No one has set a burning Hygeia pump on fire on my lawn. While I vocally and loudly support the right of a mother to nurse her baby in public, covered or uncovered, and I think it's insane that we even have to argue it in America in 2014, I do not for one moment equate myself with Rosa Parks. Does that opinion ruffle some feathers? It sure does. That's fine. Disagree with me if you must. However, don't even pretend that my opinion sets breastfeeding back or that I'm not doing anything to support breastfeeding mothers and their families because that just makes you a foolish. I was born into this. No really - my mother worked in maternity for over 30 years and was a lactation consultant. I grew up around this and have been actively supporting breastfeeding mothers and their babies since I was in high school (my first foray into breastfeeding counselling was with teen moms at my school). It would take me a long time to list all the ways I have helped families and list all the names of the mothers who had my help with breastfeeding, so there is no room to say I don't do anything for the cause. I have also breastfeed my own children...and in public.

Do you have to be overtly vocal to support breastfeeding? No. The mother who breastfeeds is doing a lot to support breastfeeding. The mother who quietly leaves the Enfamil bag filled with samples behind in her hospital room when she checks out post birth is making a statement. The person who sends a link to KellyMom or La Leche League to a pregnant friend is making a statement. The mother who quietly sits on a bench in a public location and nurses here baby publicly, covered or uncovered, is making a statement. The mother who sits in her living room after the kids have gone to bed, sipping her iced coffee and watching Real Housewives, while stuffing envelopes for her local chapter of La Leche League is making a statement. The dad who holds his wife's purse while she walks around the grocery store, nursing babe in a Moby, is making a statement. The waitress who see a mother nursing her toddler in the corner booth of the diner and asks her if she'd like a glass of water is making a statement. None of these things are overtly vocal. None of them make it onto a bloody battleground. But these folks are just as important as those who are a lot louder. Though their voices are quieter, their message is still as strong.

Moving forward will always require those who are willing stand in the spotlight and those who are holding the spotlight. It requires cooperation between the people who want to speak firmly and those who quietly nod in agreement from behind their computer screen. It's not a battle over who is more oppressed or who fights harder. If those who are beating their chest are unwilling to see the value in those who are quietly supportive, then they have already lost ground. You don't need to write 1,000 blog posts screaming that you'll never ever cover your baby and that you'll cut a bitch for suggesting it or attend a dozen nurse ins. Nurse your baby if you can. Support other families who breastfeed. You'll make a difference.

365 Feminist Selfie: Another Week of Embracing My Selfie

 At this point in time, we all know I completely suck at keeping any kind of regular blogging schedule. I'm still on the #365FeministSelfie train, but technological issues, illness, and life have gotten in the way of me coming here to slap on a few photos and write some blurbs.

I'm still having a fab time taking pictures of my beautiful self, I guess. I'm part of an online group for happy selfies and it's been a lot of fun checking out everyone's pictures and reading their stories.

To the left, we have my very old, old sneakers in a hospital room. That's been the story of the past few weeks - crappy health issues. I was taken by ambulance to the hospital a few weeks ago. I suffer from a condition that causes my esophagus to quit working while I'm eating, leaving food lodged, tons of pain, and a lot of trouble breathing. It's also a perforation risk. That day was one of the worst episodes I ever had, so they called an ambulance and I was treated in the hospital. I have to get a bunch of testing done - scopes and barium swallows - in the coming weeks. Ew.

Spring is here! Early Spring means 65 degrees one day and 30 degrees with snow the next. Plus, tons of rain. Tons of wind. Some snow. Some ice. Probably a bit of sleet. And a thunderstorm.

This was a particularly gorgeous day and I took advantage of the nice weather to walk to my son's school to pick him up. He loves days when we get to walk. Obviously, this isn't technically a selfie. My husband took the picture....probably for my butt.

Highlighting my procrastination....this pic is from March 17th. See? It's been a while.

That's me and my green for St. Paddy's Day. And those are genuine Irish Eyes. They're my Grandfather's eyes. Same shape and the same color, I believe. I know he had blue eyes, but I'm not sure of the shade. He died in 1950 and the only color pics are fake color.

My son an I took a walk to pick up my car from the mechanic. He's growing up so fast and I know he may not be so willing to hold my hand for walks in the near future. Most times, he's running ahead, exploring. This was a moment where he slowed down and talk my hand for a short while.

And those shoes. Those are totally him. H&M used to sell these - they are Converse knock-offs - in a variety of super bright and awesome colors. He loves them and we bought a bunch in various sizes to grow into over a year ago.

Another rare kid moment - my little girl curled up on my lap while napping. she hardly ever slows down to cuddle on my lap these day. Being a two year old is very busy work.

She looks like she is nursing, but she's not. She just has her face smushed into my boob.

Why, yes,  I do have a wrinkly forehead sometimes.

More rare moments. This was on my way to a belly dance performance. I rarely ever wear make up. The only time I put it on is for a belly dance performance or for Rocky Horror in October. I am NOT good at putting on make up. YouTube tutorials be damned. I do a very simple eye, with very basic eyeliner and some mascara. That's it. I don't put lipstick on until right before my performance. Otherwise, it never stays on.

That brings us to an end of the latest installment of me forcing you to look at me.

Obviously, I'm not sure that I'm going to keep up with a weekly thing or move to monthly updates. I really do like the whole #365selfiechallenge and I'm having fun with it. I'm glad it's somewhat inspired me to be a little more active on my blog. However, this isn't a selfie blog and I feel the need to light the fire under my buttocks and start writing about actual stuff.....like belly dance, having a child with OCD, storm chasers, boobs, etc.

To see all of my previous posts in the Embracing My Selfie series, please check out this link full of posts on the subject. 

For the post that inspired this, please check out Viva La Feminista.
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