Thursday, July 3, 2014
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
|Copyright 2014. Don't steal it. I'll cut you.|
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.
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.
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.
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.
Sunday, March 9, 2014
|Yes, poor people can own nail polish|
It's been nearly a month since I last posted in my Embracing My Selfie series. Part of that is because I suck at regularity. The other part of that is due to a technical fuckery-do with my phone. It erased a few pics, all of which were selfies from the past couple of weeks. Now and then, the gallery app freaks out and erases a few photos. I don't know why. My phone is 3 years old, not at all fancy, and I am clueless with technology. I try to upload any pics to mail asap so I don't lose them, but I primarily do this with pictures of my kids rather than my selfie shots. The other possibility is that my phone is like, "dude, I'm tired of taking pics of your silly face everyday. Quit it!"
This is my devotional. February 18th is one of those anniversaries associated with River, the baby I miscarried. It is also the anniversary of my very special kitty, Abigael's, death. This year, February 18th was a horrendous day for finances, which posed a threat to our ability to keeo our apartment.
The devotion on this page hits home for me as I have always believed in doing charitable works - it's how I was raised - and I have found myself in dire need of charity.
The "I was about to take a selfie and then my cat tried to climb my apron that hangs from the wall and I was yelling at him" selfie.
Also, a smoothie.
Once or twice a year, Dunkin Donuts sends out these free iced coffee/iced tea punch cards. You get free iced coffee every Monday for a couple of months. Sweet! I take mine with extra cream, no sugar, and whipped cream on top.
The sunglasses are also a score from NY&Co thanks to my gift cert. Sadly, the lens from my polka dot glasses was scratched up by a certain two year old, so they are now a spare set.
This is my pathetic face, obviously. I was not feeling good. I was having a rough day of cardiac symptoms, mind-blowing exhaustion, and trouble with both knees. I'm only 35 for Pete's sake!
I have a couple of cardiac conditions that have been pretty manageable for a long time. They are severe, just annoying. Heart troubles have been the name of the game for the last year, though, and have only gotten worse. The combination of high stress and poor eating (poor in money and quality) have really caught up with me. I also received a letter this month stating that my cardiologist, who I have been seeing for 20 years, will no longer accept my insurance. Yes, I am grateful I have insurance. I am just worried about finding a new doc. My current cardiologist is awesome and free of bullshit.
Bonus duck face.
P.S. Have I mentioned my hair sucks? It truly does. Frizzy and shit. Can't decide if it wants to be curly, wavy, straight. It's broken.
Tune in next week, or next month, to be assaulted by more pictures of my self-absorbed self. Winky emoticon.
If you would like to read previous posts in this #365feministselfie series, check here:
Weeks 4 and 5
Embracing My Selfie
I highly encourage you to read the post that inspired me to be part of this challenge, by Viva La Feminista.
Monday, March 3, 2014
|Copyright JSH 2012|
I did what any normal person would do when they encounter two living beings humping away on the side of a tree. I took pictures. About thirty of them. Close up. They were very open and gracious about it.
|© Funky Little EarthChild 2012|
|© Funky Little EarthChild 2012|
In all seriousness, I love finds like this. I think bugs are fascinating and my kids love them, so we've got a lot of pics of various little critter dudes and dudettes. This was exciting as I had never seen a live Walking Stick out in it's natural environment in over thirty some years of life until that day. Had I kept on walking and not stopped to hug the tree, I would have completely missed these lovers. And that would suck. I did thank them for allowing my family to linger and stare at them and take pictures of them copulating. I mean, you have to give them respect. I know they're "just bugs," but it may have freaked them out to have their insect sex disturbed by typical American tourists getting really close and saying intelligent things like, "holy shit! Look at that little guy go!" So, thank you Walking Sticks, for allowing me to photograph you and point at you and use you as a lesson for my kids...and my husband ("he can do it for HOURS!").
At least I had a little class and didn't do anything tacky like pose for a picture next to bug lovin'. I mean, what kind of weirdo does that? Oh wait...
|Weirdo © Funky Little EarthChild 2012|
Sunday, March 2, 2014
|Thanks for the coconut oil, Erica.|
As I promised in my original post on oil pulling, I did it for 30 days. I typically oil pulled in the morning, though there were some days when it was so hectic that I forgot and would do it later in the afternoon or the evening. I may have skipped a day. I forget.
I surprised myself in that I was able to let the solid oil melt in my mouth, something that had gagged me during previous attempts. I would place the spoonful of solid coconut oil in my cheek and allow it to melt - took about 30 seconds - without gagging. Score!
So, did it make my teeth all fancy and clean? Are my gums healthier? Does my body feel so much better? Did it heal a bunch of ailments? Are my cavities gone?
Well, for one, oil pulling certainly left my teeth feeling very nice and smooth. That feeling would last for a little bit and was enjoyable - similar to the feeling you get after a cleaning at the dentist.
As for healing my gums, improving oral health or overall health - FAIL. There is zero noticeable change in my gums since beginning this routine. My gums bled just as much on day 30 as they did on day 1. Absolutely not a trace of improvement whatsoever. My overall health? Same. I don't feel any worse, other than massive exhaustion, and I do not feel any better.
I stopped oil pulling right on day 30. Why? I lost two fillings. Two motherfucking fillings are gone. This is sometimes noted as a "side effect" of oil pulling and you'll hear various reasons ranging from the fact that all that swishing will knock a filling out to it's your body's way of detoxing itself. Well, detox away, but I need those fillings. One was the youngest filling in my mouth, on one of my incisors and was comprised of the white filling material (I call it "bonding" which may be an incorrect term).
Since I have very crappy poor people Medicaid dental insurance that doesn't cover many fillings (if at all - and you need to ask permission for them), I cannot risk losing any more. So, I have suspended the oil pulling for the time being.
I wish I could have come back to tell you that it worked, my gums are healed, my teeth are sparkly white, my acne is gone, my poop looks like a Faberge egg, and my nails paint themselves. I'm not going to tell you not to try it. Many people are extremely satisfied with oil pulling and I certainly believe it works for them. Like anything else, what works for one person does not always work for another (a lesson that should be applied to all aspects of life).
Thursday, February 27, 2014
And I cried. A lot. I've cried now and then since they put the fucking orange ribbon of death around it. I cried this morning as the tree cutting dudes were hanging outside my front window, revving up their chainsaws and taking this tree down.
The property owners of this complex are very money-oriented. Not people-oriented. They have gone on a tree chopping spree this week, stating that trees are dangerous. This is a very wooded property, a fact that they use as a selling point in their adverts. They have removed 50% of their tree population since I moved here 5 years ago. They do not care about resident input. They don't care. They have not replanted a single tree, despite promises over the years. But, this isn't about them. It's about me.
How many of you read the words above, where I stated that I cried? Do you think I'm nuts for crying over trees? It's okay, I'm totally used to it. I have a strong connection to nature and I get upset when it's harmed. Personally, I wish I wasn't this way.
I have always been very sensitive to other people, animals, and nature. I tend to take on a lot of feelings. I think they call that being an empath....but I don't know much about that. All I know is that I have been like this since I was a tiny child. I have a boatload of compassion in my heart. I want to fix all the things. I want to save people in trouble, save animals in danger, save trees, save land. And it hurts me - HARD - when I cannot do it. I dislike feeling powerless when I cannot help.
In the case of animals and nature, I have just always loved and respected them. I grew up being taught to respect nature, especially by my dad. He always told me it is extremely important to take care of and respect the planet and all of her creatures. So, I have. When I see trees bulldozed for a development or an animal squashed on the side of the road, I feel pretty sad. Sometimes, I have an overwhelming sense of doom when I think about all the development going on, all of the habitat loss and environmental damage done on a daily basis. While I find great joy in nature, I also feel great sadness when it's harmed.
There are many times I wish I didn't care. It would be a nice weight off my shoulders.
I wish I could pump my fists in the air and yell, "YAY DEVELOPMENT!!!" I wish I could chant, "drill, baby, drill." I wish I could feel zero when I see trees plowed down. I wish I could have watched them chop down my tree, shrugging my shoulders, and going about my day like it didn't make a difference. I wish I could pass by a dead or injured animal and not even think about it for a moment. I wish I could hear stories of people suffering or living in poverty and just move along, focusing on just my own needs and not worrying about theirs. There are so many people who are disconnected, who couldn't give a shit if a tree gets cut down or a family goes without food or a herd of deer just lost their habitat. They don't care if we frack and drill the shit out of this continent. They don't care if 2,000 acres of forest becomes yet another strip mall with a nail salon, UPS store, and GameStop. It must be so nice to be disconnected from the world, unfeeling. It must be nice to keep dries eyes and a hard heart. You don't have to worry about reality being in your face and challenging your compassion. I would like to take my compassion and flush it down the toilet.
Feeling connected, feeling like we are all here for one another and should take care of each other and this planet is hard on my heart. I have so much love and that love brings great sadness when I see pain in another person or destruction in nature. Compassion means "to suffer with," and I wish I could shut that off and freeze my heart, thinking only of myself. Compassion means you can give great love, but you are also capable of feeling great sadness and pain for others. I want to disconnect. How easy it would be!
Is it truly easier to disconnect yourself from humanity and nature? As much as I wish I could simply not care, I cannot imagine NOT caring. It's a constant battle within myself. While I'm known among my friends for being like this, they do not know that I struggle with it. They don't know there are many days where I wish I could just flip a switch and not give a shit. I won't give a shit if you call me names. I won't give a shit if you judge me. I won't give a shit if you make fun of my shoes or my shirt. See? I have plenty of practice with not giving a shit about certain things. I will give a shit if you chop down my tree. I'll give a shit if you dislike poor people. I'll give a shit if you intentionally harm animals.
I can't imagine myself any other way. What would I be like? Would it truly be easier to not care? Would I like myself as a person....would that even matter?
In the end, as much as it hurts me to give a shit, I still choose to give a shit about these things that are important to me and the world. I wish it didn't hurt as much, but I wouldn't wish to be anyone else, no matter how simple being aloof seems to be.
For now, all I can do to ease the pain is to be the good....be the change I want to see in the world. I have no choice, but to be the good, spread that goodness, and hopefully have others follow.