sweet goddess, i'm audre lorde!

Which Western feminist icon are you?

You are Audre Lorde! You were one of the first wymyn to write love poems to other wymyn, long before it was safe OR cool. You put the "rad" in radical feminism, but somehow still managed to create a cult following in people who would never identify as radical themselves.
Take this quiz

I read a little bit of her work in my [Women's] Wymyn's Studies classes- she kicks so much ass:

I did not fall from the sky
I
nor descend like a plague of locusts
to drink color and strength from the earth
and I do not come like rain
as a tribute or symbol for earth's becoming
dark and open
some times I fall like night
softly
and terrible
only when I must die
in order to rise again.

Thanks, Eden, for the quiz linkie. If only I had the hair...

a postcard from zombie swampland

Well, it's not a swampland but there is actual rain and it feels like a steamy tropical paradise in comparison with the insane drought we're in.


I spent, since dawn, 6 1/2 hours in bed today. This explains zombie brain. Emsy slept in with me then we had two two hour naps (!) which is just nuts. At least 45 minutes of each nap was nursey time, but still. I've been doing some serious sleeping on my days off, after the less than stellar sleep-nurse-sleep-nurse-sleep-nurse patterns of my nights. Napping + rainy sounds (after ages of no rain) + a snuggly nursing baby (after a day of fussy weird refusal to nurse) = amazing.


The only marginally productive, and this is debatable, thing I did all day was venture out to the mall with Bu & Boue. We got new cellphones. They are Razr's which makes me feel uncomfortably trendy, like when we got the Outback and I had to get used to beeping the alarm system and feeling yuppish.
Mine's a shade of pink that pretty much doesn't make me wanna puke. The black one looked too Matrix wannabe or something (but Bu got it) and the blue one was boring. I spent too much time and money downloading this Buffy ringtone, and figuring out how to install it.

We ate lunch at the mall at a sit-down place outside. Ems was unthrilled and did not like spinach dip or Daddy's chicken but did enjoy [drinking out of the kid's cup] dumping ice water all over herself and me.

And to round out the random flava of this post:

1. Apotheosis' O Fortuna, a dance mix of Carmina Burana, is fucking wicked.

2. Hot dirty mean-sex dreams about my husband's cute friend are fucking wicked.

3. Toddlerhood sucks; She made my nose bleed sticking her evil little talons up there.

4. My cute pixie cut is a hot mess of grown out shaggy chaos.

handwritten

happy birthday to a darling cousin

I love you, little one! Emsy and I can't wait to come visit you. Happy Birthing Day, 'Veeta! I love you so much, and you are such a great mama:)

parenting is not a job, it's an art

Thanks, Stu, I totally needed that:)

And I'll add: it's a collaborative art, not a solo thing. And that's good.

creepiest wiccans on earth

Back in my actual practicing days, when I took classes in magic (and later helped teach one,) I my favorite local bookstore/cafe/art gallery was featuring a book signing of The Witches' Magical Handbook by Gavin & Yvonne Frost. I mentioned that my friend Rhainna and I were planning to go, and the teachers gasped and regaled us with horror stories of how disgusting these guys are. They're from WV and have, or had, a Wiccan school. Rhainna and I had already developed a craving for lattes and hanging out, so we went anyway, and met the Frosts, and bought the book.

The Frosts are creeeeeeeeepy. They both had the most unsettling and off-putting wrongness about them. I'm not a psychic or anything, but I have a tendency to "read" people who are pedophiles. It might just be something anyone would pick up; not claiming supernatural stuff here. Anyway, my mom said she had this ability too and I suppose mine's connected to hers maybe. Whatever it is, I've been proven right before and that always makes me want to vomit.

The Frosts have that aura.

They also, I found upon reading the book, think that a girl should be physically, actually deflowered by her father (or a high priest acting in his stead) ritualistically with some kind of specially made rods or something. I'm not kidding- this is in the book, at least it was in that printing.

I'd completely forgotten about the Frosts until I was reading The Wild Hunt and saw that AJ Drew's holding a symbolic burning effigy of the Frosts. Rock on, AJ.

It's just lovely to know that pedophiliac tendencies happen in all religions.

a(wo)men!

The disconcerting part comes when Ms. Siegel, in a spot-on moment, calls us the “I’m-not-a-feminist-but” generation. As the daughter of a radical-feminist writer, I was so comfortable using “feminist” that I wasn’t even aware of the word’s stigma until my teens. But some of my girlfriends—who take anything from birth control to women’s sports teams as a given—don’t know the first thing about feminism’s history, and don’t seem to care. Ms. Siegel’s analysis of third-wave feminists is accurate: Their relationship to their mothers, real or metaphorical, is thorny. But what of the scores of American women who are afraid of the “F” word? The scariest reality is not the tension between feminists—at least they exist!—but the untapped resource of strong, independent women who are feminists but don’t know it.

This is exactly what I've been heartbroken about for years My mom wasn't the politically active flavor of hippy, so I can't claim a generational legacy as a feminist, but I as long as I remember knowing the word I identified as one. Too many other women my age and younger? Not so much. I remember being floored when an LJ blogger who was, to me, a poster child of neofeminism- she likes to print stickers with slogans about the dangers of commercial menstrual products and sneak into stores and plaster them on tampon boxes- derided the feminists from some other community for their anti-porn stance. 'Scuse me? Feminists can't like porn? Wha-huh? I honestly didn't know that the girls and women I'd label feminists were infighting and splintering over crap like whether or not porn's empowering or exploitive. (How 'bout both?)

So, above, I'm quoting Nona Willis-Aronowitz who's reviewing Sisterhood Interrupted: From Radical Women to Girls Gone Wild, by Deborah Seigel. (Second link's to her blog.) The review (in the New York Observer) is formatted appropriately enough, with two reviewers- Nona's the "daughter" and Linda Hirschman, WHOM I CANNOT STAND, is the "mother." I've GOT to read this book. I need to hear this idea explored and supported. I also need to read something that doesn't rhyme, contain bright pictures, nor is accompanied by (my favorite) blinky lights and bleepy sounds (thanks Grandies. Really.) Or something that's not copy for a billion different product descriptions for the packaging company catalog. No, it's still not finished...

cure for everything? P Funk

When you listen to P Funk (I wants to Get Funked Up) first thing in the morning, it's physiologically impossible to have a bad day. Try it- you just can't be in a bad mood with that music on. Mother Love Bone's always been like that for me, too. They're my go to guys for antidepressant grunge rock. Ironic, considering the fate of L'Andrew, but it works for me.

Art from http://www.hippjoint.com/index.htm

new old posts

I know a few of you aren't using a reader or feedburner, so I remembered to let you know I posted two new recycled posts about conception & pregnancy. (i've been backdating those entries)

It's so amazing to read them now. Notes from another life.

Also, for the First Time Ever, I let you peek at words from my personal journal. It made me blush a little, but I'm guessing you already figured out how Bu got me knocked up, so I'll chill.

interesting

Dr. Sears says:

Let him know that biting hurts. Pre-verbal toddlers are used to doing so much with their mouths that they don't realize that those sharp, little teeth hurt. If you've tried all the above tricks to stop the biting, yet it is still occurring, gently and not in any anger place his forearm against his upper teeth, not enough to hurt but enough to show the teeth marks. Say, "See, biting hurts." By at least eighteen months your toddler should be able to make this connection and learn from this lesson. Above all — contrary to some advice — don't bite or hit back. This will simply reinforce aggressive behavior, since the child concludes, "If adults do it, it must be okay."

I never thought of that. I think it makes the connection without the cruelty of biting her back. Good plan.

OK Papaw, I have to kick your ass now. You say you didn't know whether we wanted the baby back right after you took her to church (Riiight. Have ya met me?) so you went on home and put her down for a nap with you. Fabulous. Except that was my nap with Emsy and now I have to wait Goddess knows how long to see my baby!

pretty new graphics + beware of toddler

Brain 'sploded from work, so I drank some wine & revamped my header. Who knew there was a cuterrific little swirly brush in Photoshop? I didn't until today. I'm still such a noob.

Going to visit Sophie and pass out. (The grandies took the babe for the night so I could get this @#$% catalog ready.) Heh, we saw an actual girl named Sophie today. I have photographic evidence which could be subpoenaed to court if her parents sue Emsy, who has decided to be a big old meany mean biter.

How the hell do you teach a toddler not to bite without smacking or *faint* biting her back, which are the standard strategies in my family/friends? So far I can tell when she's going to do it and can stop it if I'm hovering, but I really need to nip this in the bud. I have these needs to be a gentle and non-spanking parent but no clue how to do it. My impulse is to swat her hands, which I know isn't OMG the end of the world, but I don't want to set the stage for physical punishment. Firm loud "No"? Funniest thing ever. And that really makes me want to swat her. Eep.

still overcompensating...

For that GawdAwful skirted swimsuit (see below), so I got a little boost from my blog's 'R' rating:For whatever reason, "crack" cracks me up. Was I blogging about crackpipes? Don't remember doing so, but who knows . It must only rate the posts on the front page, because the old blog was rated 'G.'

And here is the momsuit, which, OK doesn't look so bad, unless you compared it with the bikinis that were everywhere. Not even one companion chunky mama in sight.

And now I'm returning to productive paid work.

keep your jesus off my whatever

So freaking awesome it's worth several tries at posting embedded YouTube video.

my results are hot

Your Score: Androgynous
You scored 60 masculinity and 80 femininity!

You scored high on both masculinity and femininity. You have a strong personality exhibiting characteristics of both traditional sex roles.

Link: The Bem Sex Role Inventory Test written by weirdscience on OkCupid Free Online Dating, home of the The Dating Persona Test

Androgyny is yum. Thanks for meme linkage, Eden. I wasn't actually planning on posting my quiz but then I got TrinityNeoGoodness so I had to [brag]share my results.

-------- In other randomness: --------------------

1) I drank a teensy bit too much wine. Buzzy fun.

2) Tentatively agreed to exhibit art in October that hasn't even been conceived of or planned yet. Eep? Better clean out the studio [two damn years ago] really soon.

3) Buddha and I have decided that if your chunky mommy skirted swimsuit shows off any tattoos, you still retain a small percentage of your street cred. (Tomorrow we mingle with possible soccer mom types at a private pool photographing a birthday party and I've come to terms with exhibiting the hairy legs and post-partum body in public in bathing attire because I don't want to deprive Ems of watery fun because I'm self-conscious. That would be evil.)

4) Birdie's biting again. Fingers, toes, arms, knees, and, of course, the nips. !Fuck! why do they grow teeth? Why?

self portait as the sun

A little psychedelia for your day. This could actually be really nicee with some more texture work. Make a good postcard or something. And now I'm off to meet with a client and walk around & gawk at pretty stuff.

spencer

Mamaloo has a new Babe-aloo! She had the home birth she wanted so badly, and I'm so happy for the family!

Lots of love to you all:)

art of the sun

~::*HAPPY SUMMER SOLSTICE!*::~

I need sun magick so badly. I'm in a very black sluggish mood. Terrible to feel that today. I started a sketch last night called "Self Portrait as The Sun", with Emsy as the Moon, but I had to divert my energy elsewhere and didn't get beyond a few lines scratched in my book.

So to cheer myself I'm googling the sun (that's fun to say out loud) and immersing myself in warm solar vibes. Since I didn't finish my own Midsummer's Eve art, I'm sharing my favorite image search results for "sun illustration." The first is from a Debra Frazier book, On the Day You Were Born. Now I want the book- it looks incredibly lovely.

The next few are an Arabesque Sun from Sakkal Design, with very nice patterning; then a cool educational diagram with a pretty airbrushy aura that struck my fancy; and an old alchemical illustration from levity.com. Alchemy is the most fascinating metaphor for just about everything there is. I would like to wallpaper my bedroom in old alchemy text imagery.

The Solstice Fair was nice- we didn't stay very long because Bu hadn't eaten dinner and we didn't have cash on us for hotdogs at the fair, and it was past Emsy's bedtime- inasmuchas she has a bedtime, which is to say she doesn't really but has been going to sleep rather early for a few days and I wanted to encourage the trend. But I got to catch uyp briefly with a few friends and actually ran into an old friend from junior high school who was getting ready to perform belly dance and looked gorgeous... I wish we could have stayed to see her dance.

Tonight we're going to the Art Walk after our meeting, and leaving the baby with the grandies so it'll be like a mini date night. Art and walking around downtown are a good solstice celebration I think. I miss being really a part of the art community, or at least being on the fringes of it as a student and emerging artist. I swing back and forth between feeling like an utter fuck-up slacker who's letting mundane bullshit get in the way of creating beauty and feeling like a strong self-assured new mom who's proud to say that I spend as much time as possible with my baby and building up our business. I think the reality of it is somewhere in the middle. I can learn to manage my time better so I can do more, but at the same time, I know I'm really doing awesome with Emsy and that's by far the most important thing to me.

I've always struggled with my priorities as an artist and my instructors were so frustrated that I never made it the centerpoint of my life. I do wish I'd done that as a student- if I had better work habits before I night have a better feel for making room for it now. But I to realize the futility of being angry at my past self, and my priorities now are exactly as they should be. The idea of Emsy as the focus of my little world isn't a decision; it's like a biological imperative. When my gut tells me that I need to cut short a night out and be with the baby, that's what I do. Everything else can fit around my mothering, because it has to be the center. It just is. It's the sun, my art can be the moon. Bu is the spinning Earth under my feet and my gravity.

The last sun art piece is a stock illo from some random stock site that I found. I love the cuteness of it. I miss mom right now. She had a thing for celestial imagery too. I have a few random sun star moon things around the house that were hers and I love looking at them. A lot of the knick knacks or art pieces are golden and a deep blue, almost indigo. That color combination speaks of her soul to me. The blue featured prominently in my last series of ceramics work. The deep blue was her spirit and the idea of water. The clay body was a pale creamy sandy color. Maybe that was me- the blank canvas color in physical form that was my waiting to learn myself.

busy | bee

I have a slight case of rumbly belly from excitement and nervous energy. It doesn't take much at all to give me butterflies. Nothing huge is going on, but we have a lot planned and it's making me vaguely happy/edgy.

There's a bunch to do this week and weekend. Tomorrow I'm spending the day with my supervisor at a fundraiser, then going to a Solstice Fair (squee!) at church. I'm excited about Solstice, as always. It's my favorite holiday except for Halloween/Samhain. I'm a sun junkie. I want to do a tiny little blessing ritual for Ems because she's old enough to have honey! & I want her first taste of the yummy sacred fluid to be in a magickal context. I don't know what we'll do, but something maybe... Honey's such a big deal to me. I love Starhawk and her book, The Fifth Sacred Thing, and the melissae play a huge role in it. (By the way, this is my current favorite Melissa, who posted recently about how awesome her name is. My former favorie Melissa was a delicious crush from Pittsburgh.) Also, Emsy's hair is exactly the color of honey. So pretty, my honeybear.

Thursday the art festival in our lovely l'il town kicks off with an Art Walk gallery open house downtown. Some friends of mine also have a house on the East End that's empty where they'll be showcasing their beautiful work too. We have a meeting with a client at 5, but she's an artist & friend & I'm hoping we can all hang out after we show her the delicious designs I have for her website.

Saturday we have been hired/invited to photograph/attend a first birthday party at a pool club. That evening I have a bridal shower for a cousin. Saturday and Sunday there'll be arts & crafts downtown that I really want to see, including this dude's chalk art, which you may have seen in the gazillion mass emails that have circulated with his work.

In between all this fuss I have that pesky catalog project to finish. It's just corrections, so I think it can be done. Fun fun fun.

Edit: the whole reason I started yammering about honeybees in the first place was to link you here, and I completely forgot. Apparently feral bees and those on organic farms aren't inexplicably dying by the thousands. Hmm. Could pesticides possibly be harming insects? Do ya think?

support healthy births

I just got an email from Feminist Majority / Democracy in Action containing a plea for funding to help train midwives in Afganistan:

One in six new mothers is dying in childbirth. Sixteen out of every 100 infants born in this war-torn country die. Birth-related mortality rates in Afghanistan are simply unacceptable. Experts believe that the most effective strategy to reduce these needless and tragic deaths is to train more midwives to assist in childbirth. Unfortunately, the healthcare system in most parts of Afghanistan has been devastated and is not functioning. Electricity and supplies are often scarce. Many medical professionals have fled the country. Most Afghan women, even if they are pregnant, have never seen a doctor. Family planning is rarely available. And all of this is under U.S. watch -- after we promised to provide Afghanistan with a "Marshall Plan" and to free Afghan women. We have an opportunity to help Afghan women and girls by providing funding to train midwives. For only $2,000, a new midwife can be trained in Afghanistan. One midwife will in turn be able to promote the health and well-being of countless Afghan women and their new infants.

OK, just stab me through the heart, people! I just gave them $5. Petty tiny thing, but if a few readers followed the link & gave their lunch money too, it would help. ure, we're broke as hell, but it was the same as a mini-pizza & sodapop. And broke as hell by US standards is still obscenely rich from a global standpoint. No, I can't afford basic fucking healthcare, but I have high speed internet and a cute car with a tank filled up with [the blood of the earth goddess] gas.

And, I'm ignoring the implicit idea that oh-so-controversial unnassisted births are dangerous because 1) UA birth freaks me the hell out, and 2) even if it was a pet cause, a chick can only fight so many battles in one blog. I'll go out on a crunchy granola-covered limb and say that trained assistance in birth is a nice thing.

So go give up some cash, yo.

****

When I see "Afghan" it makes me think of my dear friend Sabina, who was my multimedia installation art instructor and an amazing woman and new mama. Sabina grew up in Pakistan and her work deals beautifully with ethnic, national, religious, and gender identity. She says that the way we Americans say "AF-gan" sounds so ugly. She makes it sound like the Aflac insurance duck. Very crass. She says "Afghani" with a lovely delicacy. The "fgh" is very liquid and almost a "v/w" sound.

circumcision article

I was thrilled to see this article up at CNN.com. I've seen statistics on circumcision and natural birth and breastfeeding lately, but I've never, in mainstream press, seen any reference to this being a trend toward people taking back control of and celebrating the natural human body:

"The trend has also accompanied a change in Americans' attitudes toward medicine and their bodies...the rates of drug-free labor and breast-feeding all rose during the 1980s, while the initial declines in male circumcision rates began during the 1980s as well," said Katharine Barrett, an anthropology lecturer at Stanford University. "It may have been part and parcel of the wider effort to reclaim bodies -- adult female and infant male -- from unnecessary and potentially harmful medical interventions."

Veeta (my darling cousin) can testify that I lost more sleep about the endless debate about a hypothetical foreskin than anything else when I was pregnant. Bu was pretty adamantly for it (fore it, haha) and I was arguing against it, tearfully. In the very end, when we were as sure as you can be that we were having a girl, he came around, I think.

Speaking of Veeta and natural bodies & such, here's a nursing photo from this past Christmas. Emsy & M'Ello snuggled up with their mamas. (You can also see the funky arm really well if you're a curious new reader.) It's a low rez cell phone image, so I threw some [mystical misty mojo] blur filters over it. It was so cute. We had a couple of male cousins hanging out with us and being all non-freaked out- unlike my stepbrother on Christmas. (That was hilarious, by the way. He stopped mid-sentence and gaped when I whipped out the nips...lol.)

Thanks all over again, Veeta for being such a wonderful support:) I'm hereby reinstating Friday check in. Coming soon: M'Ello Bday cake cuteness!

randomly yours

How to be an old lady and piss off Roxy: Glare at Emsy and me at a wedding reception when she squeals loudly and is generally just being one. If there were an emoticon for bird-flippage, I'd put that here.

How to be a very graceful old lady and impress Roxy with your tact: Ask if Emsy's still nursing well. I'll say yes but with a big rolling eyes gesture and admit, "She is biting a lot, though..." You (the oldish lady) suggest that she's about ready to wean. Then when I say "Eh, I'm going to let her decide that," you chuckle, "No, they'll nurse forever. Those La Leche League people nurse for two or three years." Then when I grin sheepishly and say "I know,"and tell you I'm joining LLL, you recover beautifully and say, "Well it's just great that you've made it so long. Most women don't make it past 3 or 4 months," and then continue to have a breastfeeding's awesome conversation with me. Also, you tell me how gorgeous and smart Emsy is.

How to be a bride and annoy Roxy, but not intentionally: Cover the chairs at your reception in very fancy, pristine white cloth if your wedding falls during my
heaviest period ever.

I was scared to move. But my layers held. And, if you're keeping track, said layers were commercial products. The washcloth experiment was a little shifty but with no leaks... just not secure enough to leave the house without good old adhesive.

Other bloggy tidbits: Finally thrilled with layout, having reinstated the 3 columns from ye olde blogge. Want new header though. Don't love this one all the way, yet.

Rented Ghostrider. It was OK but I'm glad I didn't dash out to buy it for Father's Day with the gift card I'm saving for Emsy's bookcase like I nearly did. The lead actress is a Roxy. Bren said he thinks Roxanne's a pretty name. I told him how it was going to be my name (like, actually, on a birth certificate)and got tickled and decided I'm starting to own it.

Maybe I need Gerbera daisies in my header for summer. They're lovely.

push | pull

I always assumed that for Bu & me to connect better or find common ground with EmsyHippo, he'd have to relax and enjoy her more. The funny ironic thing? Now, I'm having a slightly harder time with her (the shrieking, back arching mini-tantrums, the refusal to sleep, the absolute need for instant gratification) than I have before. Somehow, feeling my patience tested by the time honored rite of initiation that is Parenting A Toddler actually makes me feel better empathy for Bu. We've started sharing those knowing, worn out looks over the head of the Tiny Banshee, and the migraine inducing chaos of the baby is absolutely worth that instant of connection with my husband. The little moments of amazing, blessed quiet when she's finally down for the night are just like I imagined they'd be- feeling like we did it, we made it through another day's little trials- together.


I'm finding so helpful the advice that Lexi's mom gave her that was passed to me via comments on a frantic cry for mama support . It was about the constant flux that a marriage is, that you fall in and out of love, you grow apart & together and the union constantly stretches & loosens & tightens & continually reknits itself.


It's such an eternal challenge, to entwine two wholes, keep them both whole and distinct and yet create a new whole that's um, whole. Throw a third whole little creature with her own (very, very strong) will into the mix and the weave of it all is so intricate and confusing. A beautiful tangle.

I think I need to meditate on Eris, the Goddess of Chaos. Strangely, she was the one entity/story/metaphor that helped me the most through losing mom. The fact that completely irrational, devastating things happen for no fucking reason at all and the illusion of control is a complete farce was more comforting to me than all my belief in an eternal spirit or divine plan. I used to have a wild and delicious relationship with chaos and the free, colorful energy I perceive through her, sort of like Delirium.


I let my grief turn me into this tight, brittle person who tries to hold sand and water in her hands without losing any. Ridiculous. I need to get on board with the fact that life/the 'Verse/life with a toddler and husband is not a controllable thing. It's a force of living, fluid energy to ride.

Edit: fixed a grammar thingy, and o yeh: Del artwork's not mine; yanked from: http://www.alexandreleupin.com/albums/album26/delirium.jpg

dear woman or girl from postsecret

I wrote this to an anonymous Post Secret contributor from last week's batch of secrets. (This website is wonderful, if you haven't seen it.)
When I worked at the clinic, I had to deal with you a couple of times. I was so hurt and offended and infuriated I wanted to shake you. You were adamantly, vehemently anti-choice. You condemned every single woman who chose abortion. You related this on the phone to me while I scheduled your appointment to terminate your pregnancy.

Exactly how the fuck to you reconcile this hypocrisy? Why is every other girl in the waiting room with you doing something wrong, but it's just fine for you? How can you be faced with this choice, decide abortion is the best option for you and the potential child you carried, but refuse to waver in your blanket demonizing of women just like yourself?

I know why people take a pro-life stance- I respect the idea that the sanctity of life trumps all. (God/Goddess/Fate/The Universe/Evolution/Nature/Biophysics disagree apparently, but it's a very pretty idea...) But I get it, I really do. I'd love if there were never another girl or woman to find herself faced with such a choice. Those days at the center were sad for me. They were days of great loss overwhelming the confusing mix of 1,000 emotions. I see why you hate the act, and hate that someone chooses it. (I don't, of course, support legislating your personal moral judgement onto other's but I've covered that over and again.) But how, how, how can you find in your life the fact of abortion, the absolute need for it, and then continue to fight to deny other women the same opportunity you took for yourself. How wonderful for you that your faith, your dogma are so easily hurled in the direction of anyone struggling to make sense of a decision that can save or ruin lives, but they fall away so quickly when put to a real test. How lovely that your own rules don't apply when you have to deal with an unintended pregnany. It's the most narcissistic and disgusting thing I've ever encountered.

This just brought up all my rage from dealing with that before and, of course, having to bite my tongue. This is an instance where, in my perception, we have sisters hurting sisters. I think that living this experience would make someone realize that obviously, obviously there are situations in which an abortion is the best course of action, but no. This girl, and the others I met, assume they're somehow above the same "law" they're helping to write.

liam

Life is so surreal in this time.

I sit, salt stinging my face, hand shaking on keys to share grief that isn't mine. I have no claim to it. I've never seen the face of the woman who stood at the ocean, observing that when she had put on the clothes she was wearing, her tiny son was still alive. I've never met her and never will, but I have shared her beautiful eloquent thoughts as she bravely offered them so publicly, so nakedly.

My tears will stop in a short while and I'll go upstairs to fill my life with stupid, beautiful details. How if I'm relaxed I think Bu's snores are endearing, how Emsy likes to sleep with her feet higher than her body like I do when my back is sore- and I'll wake up with her feet on my chest or neck.

But Kate won't have trivia and mundane life for quite a while. She has two beautiful sons to bless her and fill her, and I hope they keep her grounded and comforted and strong.

Blessed be, Kate and Liam and family.

open up my head and let me out

What's on my mind of late:

Stress:
This is a new and exciting development: I'm anxious! I've also been too busy to get to bed before mindnight in a month or so, which means I haven't closed my eyes until 1:00 am or later. I can be dead on my feet exhausted and I cannot fall asleep in less than an hour. The six hours of sleep I'm getting is, of course, chopped into bits by a certain hungry fussy creature. This all means I have a pretty pretty new cluster of zits and a very charming tendency to bite Bu's head off &/or burst into tears at any random moment.

Clothing:
I have a wedding to attend Saturday and nothing appropriate to wear. I do have a small amount of store credit at a discount department store but it was earmarked for a new bookshelf for Emsy's room. I hate being so goddamn broke that I can't just go spend $20 or $25 on a pretty blouse without planning and worrying and sacrificing.

Blogstuff:
I'm constantly stewing this idea Lexie and I have for a parenting website. There's got to be a way to make some money from my design skills and get me home more. I have some ideas, like a Cafe Press tie in with baby & mama stuff, and I'm thinking about a WAHM businesses directory or ad network or something. I need to research this more instead of just daydreaming.

I miss the old blog today. Wondering if we do our website thing will I be Roxy me or Me me? I dreamt I was redesigning my header graphic with a cool inverted colors dark daisy image. Cute. Some days I want to delete it and go back to the Me blog.

Blergghfghfh:
Too much thinking is being harmful. I have a song on constant repeat in my head: Paralyzer by Finger 11. This is a fucking great song. The guitar riff is crack. The name of that band makes me have giggles. Somebody's running around hoarding all the extra fingers while some of us would be happy to have 10. /Snark.

...If your body matches what your eyes can do, you'll probably move right through me on my way to you...

stardust

Oh. My. Goddess.

I'm pee-my-pants excited about the movie adaptation of Stardust. I've read it 1,000 times, and Emsy heard it in the womb and as a newborn, back when she was still enough to sit for a story. It's my favorite fairy tale, and my favorite Neil Gaiman work, depending on where I fall on the HIPPY FAIRY SHINY PERSON DARKISH BROODY POET scale during that particular reading.

The cast is fantastic. Claire Danes is my pre-Maggie actress crush and is so darling. (Did you see Shopgirl?)

Also, I got to have a little Gaiman fangirl clique righteousness when I read the first words of msn.com's review: "You may not have heard of Neil Gaiman before..."

I've drooled a Stardusty puddle at my desk with weblust. This site's so pretty. There are like three sites in one based on the village, the starry sky (under construction), and the fairy kingdom. I want to learn Flash, only I want to learn it "Neo 'I know kung-fu'" style, not toiling over new software style. Such is life.

daisies & demons...

was going to be the name of this blog, but I liked the rhythm of DaisyBones better. "& Demons" would have been appropriate for raising a toddler, though. (When is she officially a toddler? I feel like she started her Terrible Twos at 11 months.) Some days it's daisies, and then there are 24 hours like this one.

Today was a hard day. A crying in the bathroom at work and in the storage room while I pumped. A bags under eyes exhausted day. The Birdy was inconsolable last night from about 11 p.m. until 2:30 a.m. and I still don't have any idea what was wrong. She wouldn't use a teether and wasn't biting (for once) at the breast. She never passed any gas, she had no fever, no sick belly. When she finally crashed we repeated the insane back-arching shrieking crying fit again a couple of times until she slept through 7-9 a.m. I slept in until 9 and went in late.

I can deal with a one year old and the attending chaos, but I was having serious doubts this morning about whether Bu can . Things were palpably tense between us on the way to work and it stayed with me all day. (We're fine now after bonding over his rum and snuggling to watch a little bit of TV.) He keeps telling me how much better he is with the 4+ crowd than babies, and I keep hoping that's true. I know some people have "baby" dispositions. I do- I can roll with the shit splatters & ear piercing squeals, but I know it's harder for him. It's so fucking frustrating that I'm working out of the home while he's here with her. We're looking into other options but I'm terrified to jinx the very vague plans by detailing them here, not that there's much to tell. I doubt I'll be able to work from home full time anytime soon, but something's got to change.

So now she's crashed, and I'm wide awake. Beautiful.

sketchbook page #1

Did a sketch of nursing to break in a new sketchbook. (This is a tiny revolution if you're following the slackerness of me!) The proportions aren't perfect, but without models whatcha gonna do? At least the page is no longer a scary frigid virgin page.

happy birthday buddha

My Bu's 34 today. He seems to be unthrilled about this, but the bottle of Captain Morgain's I bought him softened the blow a little.

He spent the day with the Birdy, who was, again, refusing to eat or sleep for anyone who isn't currently lactating. (However, after her mommy's-off-work-nummins she was very cute with a chunky string of beads, playing a one year old version of dress-up. She'd throw the beads around her neck and then grin a huge cheesy grin and hold her arms up as if to ask "Well? Am I gorgeous or what?" Very adorable. Must grab camera next time there is bead play.) She did eat a lot of pizza at dinner.

I also gave my Bu a copper Buddha head statue similar to this one. Bartered with the Souster for this and an umbrella style stroller. Yay for Souster:)

And now I crash. After I nip a wee bit of the Bu's rum.

roxy's first meme!

Woot! My first meme-tagging as secret identity gal:)

Remove the blog in the top spot from the following list and bump everyone up one place. Then add your blog to the bottom slot, like so:

Melanie in Orygun
Mommified Me
Bumblebee Sweet Potato
Spin Me I Pulsate
DaisyBones

There are questions:

What were you doing 10 years ago?
Drinking obscene amounts of Crown Royal or Merlot, watching my shaved hair grow back all spikey, painting, and recovering from traumatic breakup with the pierced guy. Just starting to eat veg.

Five Snacks You Enjoy:
Smoothies
Hummus & Pita
Strawberries
Chips & Salsa
Nachos

Five Songs That You Know All The Lyrics To:
Head Like A Hole - NIN
Lateralus - TOOL
Magdalena - A Perfect Circle
Anarchy - KMFDM
Kooler than Jesus - My Life with the Thrill Kill Kult

Five Things You Would Do If You Were a Millionaire:
Invest in alternative energy
Go vegan/organic with a chef
Home school the Birdie
Full on back covering tattoo
Give 20% to charity

Five Bad Habits
Biting & picking the skin around my cuticles
Grinding my teeth
Eating shit food
Watching bad TV just because it's there
Whining

Five Things You Like To Do
Take baths
Drink wine
Read
Doodle
Watch Joss Whedon DVD's with the commentary track playing

Five Things You Would Never Wear Again
Leather, unless it's second-hand
Diamonds, unless they're fair trade or lab-created
Acid-wash jeans
Pleated skirts or pants
Unisex or men's tees- they add 50 lbs to me

Now apparently I'm to ask 5 other peeps to do this.
So…..
Alexis of This Wabi Sabi Life
Coffee Betsy
Bine of Sleepless in Cologne
Jase of A Few Good Memes
Gwen of Left Coast Mama

****Update: Bine pointed out that I missed a couple questions, and "demanded justice"... giggle.

So:

ONE year ago I was struggling with a newborn who was starving and pissed, an anemia migraine, a sore butt from episiotomy, a breast pump, bottles of Reglan & formula, & seemingly unceasing doctor's visits to check lactation, clip the baby's tongue, etc.

My 5 Favorite Toys Are:
Blogger
LiveJournal
Anything that'll safely occupy Emsy when necessary
Paper & pens for doodling
Detachable shower head

Now, aren't you wishing you hadn't asked?

a weekend

I've had a head-spinningly busy weekend. The rundown:

Friday:

-Work in a.m. on huge mailing for the clinic.
-Get yard sale stuff ready, keep pulling out stuff that makes me teary: a newborn onesie I remember Emsy wearing the first time she and I napped in our bed.
-Call to check on Emsy and Bren the nephew says Papaw's asleep, Bren is in charge of Emsy. I freak out; Bren is 10. Go to retrieve baby from clutches of overactive inattentive underage child. Find that Bren is a big fat liar, the Boue's napping with Papaw. Exhale. Finish yard sale pricing. Pick up la bebe. Deliver junk to friend's house.
-Nurse the [razor toothed nipple shredding demon] darling girlchild, get ready for moms' night out party. Deliver [demon] baby to grandies.
-Have great time at friend's place. Meet very cool chick with bindi.
-Come home to no baby, feel insanely anxious for leaving her all night until next afternoon after seeing her for 2 hours all day. Wake up the grandies with tearful phone call at 12:45 a.m. and take back the Boue. Feel like idiot and psycho, but sleep well.

Saturday
-Make only $26 bucks at yard sale. Have VERY fussy baby who should have been left with the grandies'.
-Attend fun party for Bu's cousin M who's finished her residency and is now Dr. M officially. I taste the best sangria in the 'Verse, and talk to a mom my mom's age who nursed her babies until 2 or 3 years. Also talk to M's mom who used to be a lactation consultant about how to cut back on nursing gradually, assuming Ems continues to eat a little more food. We deliver their bound wedding album, our first one, which is gorgeous. See? This is my favorite single page:

Sunday

-Give baby to grandies again for church time so we can [be awesomely productive and get mad work done on web design projects] sleep until noon.
-Work on projects whilst baby wrangling, have bite free nummins (halle-fucking-lujah!) and then finally get around to this:

I love these invitations. I have got to gussy up our website. We don't even have a current portfolio. I suck. Have to trim these invites & crash. Have no idea what I've missed in the sphere o' blog. Will catch up later.
Peace, Roxy

dear roxy,

OK girl, um how can you be sitting here reading Green Options Blog whilst scarfing down a McDonald's bagel and cinnamon melt? Are you a fragmented personality? An environmental wannabe who cries about the recycling from her party getting thrown in with the trash who has an alter ego too damn lazy to get the hell out of bed in time to make breakfast and coffee at home? This theory would certainly be supported by a blog entry addressed to yourself in second person.

It's so past time to step up. I've got to start living in accordance with my real self and stop blocking my own actualization. So many small steps I'm overwhelmed.

The YW is going broke and desperately trying to raise funds for their crumbly gorgeous old building, and so have stopped giving scholarships. The YMCA is hardish to get to, but have scholarships. The neighboring city rec center has cheaper memberships, so I'll find a way. Meantime I suppose simple walks in the woods across from our property are an obvious and lovely solution. Might have to recruit Bu to come with and wear Emsy in her hiking sling. My back's starting to protest babywearing when there's much walking involved. We're getting a lightweight stroller from the souster, but it of course won't work in the woods.

Something positive to leave you... hmm. Emsy has become upset when I leave her with Papaw lately. I may be twisted to think this is a good thing, but remember I'm a working mama who is constantly worried her little one's not attached enough to her. I get so jealous of Mamaw it's embarrassing.

OK- this is unqualified positivity: I've removed all the baby stuff from my studio-in-waiting to be sold tomorrow at a yard sale, so I'm that much closer to working for reals on my artses. I'm in serious paper-paint-tangible-media-lust. And so squee. The crib is gone too, which made me kinda happy thinking how I "won" the disagreement about where babies should sleep. Well, Ems decided for me actually. Our cosleeping keeps me sane. I'd miss her so much more if I didn't have the snugglebug nighttime. And the idea of trying to "train" her makes me have a cold sweat. We'll deal with that after she weans, I think.

Oh! Another happy. Something reminded my of my labor and the short time between when my water broke and I realized I had to deliver in hospital. All the excitement and perfect surreal anticipation from that moment flooded me and it bled into my memory of the whole day so much, making it all seem exciting and tearfully happy. I'm finally able to remember it as a beautiful day rather than one of painful disappointment.

* Edited to correct a run-on sentence that was making my skin crawl:) *

dear bu,

My blog obsession is far more important than your Second Life. So stop bogarting all the motherfucking bandwidth, assface! However, if your virtual DJ in your virtual bar keeps spinning wicked shit like The Timewarp and Ballroom Blitz, I might rescind my snark. Oh, and also, if you go to the store again for dinner while I'm stuck with a toothy toddlerette vaccuum sealed onto my boob for an hour, and you come back home with a freakin' steak and one bloody potato, you may be shot on sight.

Love, Roxy

P.S. I love you. Thinking of daisies just made me remember when you called me "flower" for a short while when we were dating.

I'm going to crash now, and blissfully. Good night, yntaurnehtz. I'm pooped, so pooped.

quickie post on anthropology

{Oh Gods I am a doof. Just mistyped "daisyboners" in my username field and had to snortle. I am a 12 year old boy sometimes.}



Jase just replied to my about post and stirred my brain up a little. He said how he and Anna were from different tribes too, like me & His Buddhaness*. I love this wording. It made me feel over analytical labeling myself hippygoth (or gothippy! I think I'll coin the term 'thippy:) in my little taglines, because it seemed a little dorky & high schoolish. However, I'm now thinking I was just compelled to announce my tribal membership, which is a primal human impulse.



I was driving home the other day (through the run down part of town leading to the hollow where we live that makes me want to join the Main Street organization to help fix it up only the preacher who spearheaded the project got shot so I'm scared plus where the hell am I going to find time?) and I was daydreaming about an anthropology degree. Just a passing fancy, but I ponder the human state a lot. We seem to be quite removed from the essence of human nature as we evolve and this troubles me. For instance, we forget that we are mammals. Only 25% of American moms nurse their kids 1/4 as long as the WHO recommends. (Two years and beyond.) And there's my continual insistence that body hair is a good, soft, natural thing. Then there's the whole Nature Defecit Disorder thing. I am doubly annoyed by the fact that 1) we make up a new disorder or disease to explain something non medical every 3 seconds, and 2) it's very valid that we are suffering collectively from NDD.


*Bu's nickname is Ironic to a degree that it requires capitalization. He's the least Zen human being I have ever met, and yes I know pot...kettle...black but yeh, he's a spaz too. Still, he has an affinity for Buddha icons and the start of a belly (don't tell him I blogged his belly) and all beloved things are Boo or similar, so yeh. Bu.

jumpy stress brain

I want a Xanax so bad.

Didn't get a chance to call the YW to set up a scholarship, but I'm keeping on the exercise-not-drugs plan. Bu is awesome with the support. Totally bringin' it. He said he was worried about me tonight. I'm not on the verge of a Serious Roxy Breakdown (TM) like in, let's see... '93, 96, and '02, but I've got to address this before I get to that point. If I had health insurance, I'd have already started googling xanax + breastfeeding, valium + breastfeeding, etc. I can see the doctor for $15 at my clinic, where the midwives' practice is run, but prescriptions aren't covered. We make thismuch too much money for the drug help. Quell frustrating. I've also got to check in with the DHHR to see if we'll qualify pleasegoddess for Emsy's state health insurance. All of this is complicated 1,000 fold by the way our company's set up. Our taxes don't really show that we make anything from the company. It's an S chapter corporation, so we take distributions which aren't taxable but I have to report them somehow or they'll bust us for fraud. I sent a printed report from our bookkeeping software. Hopefully that'll do.

There was a long ranty post in my head while I did paperwork today. It was about how I used to have a punkish youthful disdain for the affluent and all things borgeuois, but now all I want in the world is a nicer home, clothes that fit and weren't made in a sweatshop, and cash for organic produce. And I want a second car, which gives me green guilt. The public transportation system here is ridiculously inadequate, though. My options are two buses before dawn and at twilight or hitchhiking. {Insert towel reference here; I'm not coming up with anything.}

OK so I did google xanax + breastfeeding & it looks like a no go anyway so that's for the best. I have a(n arguably less than stable) relative who used to share her prescription with me, so when I'm really in need I usually go to her and then the doctor.

Ooh! Shiny: looks like Valerian root's OK as long as I keep an eye on the Boue. Valerian root works as well as Xanax anyway. Almost.

fears

Can't leave my new toy alone. I have so many little design tweaks I'd like to make. They'll come as I have time.

***

The Birdie ate well for the grandies, I'm thrilled to report. Canteloupe and mac & cheese. I'm hoping there isn't a repeat of the barf-a-thon. That may have been cheese related. Even with this full belly she still insisted on an hour long nummins fest after we came home. Nursing has become my thinking time, like pooping or showering. I planned an entire art show in my head last night.

When I think about jumping back into my real art, I get a little nauseous. Skydiving nauseous. I build up a terrible amount of pressure that's compounded by every day since I picked up clay paint pencil etching-tool paper. I'm dying to make something physical, and really dying for wet clay in in my hands but I'm really lost as to how to manage my time. I have some ideas that are probably worth exploring... the obsession with reaching the spiritual through the physical has whole new potency now, filtered through the experience of pregnancy, birth, and nursing. I want to make some artist's books along these lines.

***

My priorities are out of control. I'm letting myself get run over by my chaos because I'm not planning. I feel like I'm (still, for like 15 years now?) just letting life happen to me instead of living it on purpose. I do better for a while with my diet, the house, the business, and then I slide back into my muck. I'm so anxious. I alluded in the old blog to the jaw clenching thing. I said I don't grind my teeth I just clench. I lied- I've noticed I'm grinding. And I'm doing these OCD twitchy things with my toes and fingers that I do when I'm particularly nuts. Feel like I'm running late for a life and death public speech that I have to deliver naked on a tight rope. All the time.

I'm going to call the YWCA tomorrow to try to get hooked up with a scholarship again. I did much better when I was in a good routine of going to the gym than I do planning on walking or doing vidoes & stuff here. In order to make room for that I'm going to have to get up in the mornings early, which is my worst time. I'm a hateful shit in the mornings. Does that whole 21 days to set a new habit thing work?

we've moved

Molly & Me (but not the moon-She stays put,) have moved to a secure location. I.e., my paranoia won and I started a new blog with a secret identity:)

If you've lost me and need the new link, email heidi [at] ddogdesigns [dot] com and I'll send you the link. Unless I don't want to.

Bye now:)

sunday night

Notice how the older Molly gets, the less frequently I post? Never time lately. The weekend was a whirlwind of activity. Actual date night Friday, awesome. PotC3 was faboo... or at least pretty good. Oh, whatever- it fucking ruled. Deppalicious. Fun fun fun. I could critique but I won't.

The highlight of tonight was a crazy demon fussy Boue, a long car ride trying desperately to put her to sleep - an act of desperation I've never tried. Then she vomited all over me & my pretty made-in-India purse. I gave her some mozzerella cheese earlier, so that could have been the culprit. She's never eaten much cheese.

I've been playing with graphics for new blog. Don't want to start posting until it's properly lovely. I'm wiped out- to bed for me.