Beloved Sojourn

Conversations with grandma

2012-02-01T05:49:00.000-08:00

As soon as Flannery wakes up she yells, "yogurt!" and our day begins. I get her yogurt and soy formula ready (a high fat solution that is supposed to help her grow since her body seems to be rejecting fats). I make grandma instant coffee, toast and eggs or a fruit cup. I eventually make myself some coffee and watch a few minutes of the news before turning on grandma's westerns. She watches westerns all day and the house is full of gunfire and the sounds of screaming Indian women. So, the other day she was watching a particularly violent western, racist and misogynist both, I'd say. The cowboys were pillaging village of tepees, grabbing native babies as they rode through setting the village on fire.

I said, "this is really terrible grandma" before turning it to Turner Classic Movies.

She said, "I don't like westerns."

Me- "wha?? You don't like westerns?"

Gma- "no. I only watch them because you turn them on."

Me- "well, what do you want to watch?"

Silence.

"grandma?"

Gma- "something interesting."

So, I turned it to a Cary Grant film. Twenty minutes later as I walked through with the laundry she asked, "where are my westerns?"

---•---•---•---•---•---•---•

This morning was a flurry of me getting the trimmings from the bushes I massacred yesterday to the side of the road before the rain comes. I came back in and asked grandma is she wanted some more coffee. Her response, "no, I don't want any coffee." but she said it leaving me with the idea that she wanted something. "so, you want something?" I ask.

"yep," she says.

Silence.

"what do you want?"

Silence.

"something to eat or something to drink?"

Silence.

"both?"

"yes, both."

Oy.

7 3/4 months pregnant (if you go by the weeks, anyway)

2012-01-26T05:17:00.000-08:00

It is 70 degrees outside.

My mother has the heat set on 72.

Beggars living in they mama's basement can't be choosers, but have mercy, doesn't she remember what it was like to be a walking furnace? Almost makes me want to move to Pittsburgh. Almost.

the nature of the restless.

2012-01-23T11:46:00.000-08:00

sometimes i look over this website that lists children that are up to be adopted in various places like the Ukraine, and one little swaddled girl's listing said, "has light brown hair. The nature of the restless."

we have some things in common, baby M and i.

i will keep her in my prayers that the right family finds her.

2012-01-18T12:19:00.001-08:00

A place does not save you. There is no place where you can flee from yourself.

-St. Nikon of Optina

Perspective.

2012-01-09T10:57:00.000-08:00

I must first say that my grammar is atrocious and I hope whatever readers I have can look past that. Moving on.

1. People are basically the same everywhere. The rednecks of Alabama are just traded for other working class folk in the North. Their accents and dress may differ, but they have much in common. There are truly awesome people in Pittsburgh. This doesn't make up for the fact that I want to fling myself off of Rachel Carson Bridge every time I cross it. There are truly great people in Birmingham. The best. I'm sure there are good people in MD, too, we just don't know them yet. (well, M has one or two guy friends and I have assorted friends in the area).

2. Living in Frederick would mean our girls would get an incredible education.

3. Family is all that matters.

4. That said, I don't think it's all that irrational to consider moving to istanbul.

Making the home you have the one you love.

2012-01-05T08:25:00.001-08:00

But I feel like I don't have a home. I feel like my heart is beating out of my chest all the time. Anxiety is at an all time high. Our belongings are scattered amidst my family's belongings in our new basement apartment in my parent's basement. We.are.out.of.our.minds. We are also house poor, and this seems to be our only current option. It is impossible to know what to do with all of our crap. It is impossible to know how to make peachy beige walls covered in holes and pencil marks appealing. Our things are stacked in cardboard boxes and there is nowhere to put anything. My baby slings and some of the new baby's clothes are hanging on the bow rack in "nursery" (bows, sans arrows, still attached). Mostly it is just Flannery's playroom/junkroom. She is still sleeping on the floor beside our bed. Right now, in fact. And all of this, it is for her and her sister. So that we can better care for them, so that they can have better opportunities.

But we have a home and we have each other and we have to be thankful.

God willing, the house will rent on time, we will save enough money to move and have a little in savings, and we will learn how to live with a lot less. Which, if we move to MD, will be important. I hate Pittsburgh, so it's off the table entirely.

I try not to cry when cleaning up our house that looks amazing now. New carpet. Freshly scrubbed hardwood floors. Newly painted kitchen. Newly painted everything. Grey, because it is my favorite color and considered a neutral. People would be crazy to not want to live there. I've put so much work into a it, and that's what hurts I guess. I feel like I've lost an animal. I hate animals (in the sense that I never want to own one. I mean cats, really?). But I don't want to compare losing our house to losing a person, so I imagine what one feels when they lose a cat. I brought my daughter home to that house. Her first birthday was there. Her first steps. I spent all of my free time and all extra money turning a 1979 split-level into a house fancy bloggers on the interweb would be envious of. M said to look at what I did with a split level. Imagine what I could do with a row house in Frederick.

St Stephen's Day, 2011.

2011-12-27T17:54:00.001-08:00

Ah, Nativity.

We are on our great trip to gain perspective.

Matthew's beard is fuller. I think it's really handsome.

My second daughter will be here in 3 months. Holy pierogi.

I am going to beat my screaming nephew if he wakes up my sleeping toddler. (ok, not really, I don't condone the beating of children).

Flannery loves to sing the ABCs and can get to G. G is for Genius.

M is drinking whisky with his brother. Talking about man things. I am pretty lonely, but my days are filled with the sweetest companion, and she's learning to talk.

moving into your parent's basement to save money= the American dream

2011-11-26T06:37:00.000-08:00

i separate my clothes into piles. will never wear again (also, so 1990s/early 2000s). hope to wear again (beautiful pre-pregnancy/lactating clothes). can wear now (maternity). can wear after the baby (fat jeans).

i say, i feel like i've aged 10 years in the past 2.

m says, that makes sense. he says that when we got married he felt older than me. but after Flannery was born, we felt like the same age.

we are moving furniture today. well, the men are moving furniture. and grandma reed is playing with F while i get the furniture cleared out. this is one brutal, but necessary, step in moving North.

i found a notebook from grad school full of feminist diatribes and notes from feminist classes. one lone page though reads. "Oct. 19, 2007: Going to DC for the papermaking conference. Going to meet Matthew Reed while I'm there. Maybe we'll be good friends. Or maybe we'll fall in love. Or maybe he's a creep. Guess we'll see."

m says it's possible that all three are true.

to the memory of a once great man

2011-11-02T06:22:00.001-07:00

Flannery's godfather has a band.

and they are fantastic.

they have a new album coming out in the Spring and are not releasing CDs, because nobody buys CDs anymore, so they are releasing it as a vinyl and digital copy. for $15 you can get the digital download before the album is actually released AND the vinyl when it is released.

they have a kickstarter.

consider buying their music. at least watch the video.

I'm going to be the mother of another daughter.

2011-11-02T06:09:00.000-07:00

no surprise there.

i've told everyone, "this one's a girl, too" with such confidence that i was beginning to doubt myself. i looked longingly at little man clothes and planned out things to sew for a Basil (bow ties, onesies with suspenders, "dress" pants out of soft flannel). He would be quite dapper, my son. but, it's another girl.

a sweet baby sister for Flannery. i think little sister will have to have a dose more humility than Flannery does. man, she's bossy.

so, i've been painting sweet little matryoshka dolls for my sweet little girl.

i picture us with a gaggle of daughters, and a library out back that M spends all his time in with his butterflies and Russian literature and i'll be on the couch because the girls have wrecked my nerves.

(too much P&P, perhaps?)

2011-10-30T15:22:00.000-07:00

the second most important day of her life

2011-10-29T17:01:00.000-07:00

walking into the church was a time-warp. it was dizzying. everywhere i would look i would see the ghost of someone from the past, or myself, praying the sinner's prayer, just one more time. or myself being baptized. i was baptized twice, because i was never quite sure when i was saved. because even though Baptists preach "once saved always saved" there is the caveat that maybe you didn't mean it the first time, or the last time. so i got saved just about every Sunday, and every year at camp. each time more sincere than the last. the first most important day of my life. time, or death, will tell if any of them stuck (not that i believe those things about salvation anymore).

so, as i said in earlier posts, i haven't seen J or her brothers, J and J, since we were in high school. i have known them since i was 2. they are my oldest friends. it is probably for the best that we skipped out on over a decade of each other's lives. even though they missed some of the craziest, and most defining years of my life, they know things about me that nobody else does. we are all so different. there is so much to write, but i want to keep it semi-private, as i have no idea who reads this blog.

J is tiny. probably 5'. she makes me feel tall. she found a simple, silk dress with a halter that she fell in love with. she wore silver shoes that were made for a child (by Cupcake Connection, or something like it). her hair was down, in simple curls, with a tiara and a veil made by her aunt. she looked like a Barbie doll. the whole ensemble was perfect for her.

there were 6 bridesmaids total. four were her new sisters-in-laws. two of us were actually her friends. the best man was actually a woman. i recognized her from Montevallo and somehow she remembered my dreams of becoming a political speech writer (whatever happened to that? oh yeah, UNC didn't offer me any money to go and i went to my fall-back. anyway). she was sort of masculine and made all the bridesmaids uncomfortable. even though i'm not super keen on confrontational people, i kind of liked her. i could see why J (the husband) was friends with her and wanted her support on his big day. one of the bridesmaids, J (ha!), was like an amazon. the wife of a corporeal, deployed at the moment. the mother of the flower girl and ring bearer. she bossed everyone around and almost always stood with one hip cocked to the side. she loved to mention that her husband was a corporeal. and how much she paid for her shoes. on sale, for $44. her toes were, no joke, purple by the end of the day. she told us bridesmaids to take off our hose. yeah right, pregnant girl is not taking off her hose. i've got to hold it together in my not-maternity outfit. i just looked at her like she was crazy and wore them anyway. she would say throughout the day, "well, it's not my wedding."

i was the only non-smoker, aside from the kids, and was left several times in the bridal suite while everyone went out for some "fresh" air. J took no less than 3 prescription relaxers while getting ready. i can't say anything though, i downed 2/3 a bottle of rum on my wedding day i was so nervous. i had so much adrenaline that it didn't seem to affect me at all. (best.day.of.my.life).

i was the only bridesmaid not in a dress. i definitely felt like an after-thought (which, technically, i was). i stood by the bride anyway, wearing a floral skirt that she picked out, an ivory tanktop, and a brown shawl. i was sporting the librarian-goes-Matron-of-Honor look, while everyone else looked a little more traditional. the men wore dark brown pinstripe tuxes and kept making jokes about Cedric the Entertainer. the stage was decorated with ferns, sitting on christmas plates, with fake hydrangeas popping out of them.

J was walked down by her father, Pastor C. he began the ceremony with a sermon, ending in the same sinner's prayer he's always offered up. it made me feel a little bit sick as he was saying the words that the forlorn were supposed to repeat. ending with "everyone's heads bowed, eyes closed, no one looking please. if you prayed that prayer, just look up, catch my eye, and look back down. God bless you. God bless you."

the rest of the ceremony was pretty standard. scripture about being a good wife/husband. lighting the unity candle to a Rascal Flats song. they kissed, were introduced as Mr and Mrs. J S (i kid you not both families are full of Js). we walked out to a John Denver song.

the reception was simple, decorations of fake flowers (all the flowers were) and vines sat on the tables. J's oldest brother, J, works at Whole Foods and brought tons of fruit, the best food there. being around them made me miss them so much. it must have been a hard day, too, because they've all failed their very religious parents in various ways. little brother J brought his boyfriend, and mostly everyone was nice to him. their dad just kept saying how "untraditional" the day was. there was no dancing, they are Baptists, afterall.

they left to the sound of tiny plastic bells, hopping into J's truck and going off for their staycation honeymoon. i'm supposed to meet them at the zoo sometime this week. they want to take F.

it was a sweet day, and i hope they have a nice life together.

even though our wedding was nothing like theirs, it made me nostalgic.

for now, it's cold, and i'm hungry. going to watch Law & Order with the man and go to sleep. i'll post some pictures later. the toddler is asleep. she hasn't nursed since yesterday at 3pm. this is the first whole day we've got without nursing. a little sad, but i'm glad she's finally giving it up.

xoxo,

redux, for a nap that wasn't taken.

2011-10-28T06:11:00.000-07:00

i guess there are just melancholy people (i being one of them). it really hasn't mattered where i was at in life, i have always been, in some way, trying to change the situation. the past three/four years have certainly been the best, but certainly not the easiest. in the beginning it's all lovey-dovey, and now it's appreciation, and who is going to change F's diaper? and oy, the lentil soup is burning! somehow i am surprised every morning when the kitchen is a mess and i have to clean it all over again. i guess it's a purposeful mess. i'm still not the kind of housewife that feels somehow called or destined to be a housewife. you know? some women are just good at it. they thrive on it.

i am not that woman.

you can say, woman up. it's about time to be satisfied. and i would say that i am, and that i don't take M for granted. or the toddler who is in my lap as i type this kissing me over and over and telling the baby, "hello! lub you! bye-bye! See you 'ater!"

the moving venture. i wish it wasn't so hard. we went and talked to our priest about it, who seemed to be on team Pittsburgh, because it is so Orthodox and because it is cheap, even given my concerns about my family (i am worried to leave my very sick mother). he said i could always come down and stay with my parents if they needed me. so true. but then, is it senseless, the move? we both love Frederick for it's small-town feel, walkability, great public schools, grandparents, and jobsjobsjobs, but is it worth the cost? there is no job that i could get up there that would cover the cost of daycare for 2 kids. holy crap daycare up there is $$$$. and besides, i like being home with them while they are small.

i don't know, but our dining room is filling up with boxes that i've been packing these past few months and i have no plans of unpacking them anytime soon.

every weekend is busy. nashville one weekend, pumpkins the next, J's wedding this weekend, Russian Fest the next. i'm looking forward to some quiet, you know, after our month-long journey to MD/PA in December. quiet before the new-little-baby storm.

i am sure to post something lengthy after the wedding tomorrow, being held in the little Baptist Church i grew up in.

some pictures from Nashville, too cute not to share:

the kids with the chickens.
our godson, Job.
Rachel, Flannery being a nut, Jobbie, and Zack/Ephraim

the dudes walking the kids to the park.

the four best years.

2011-10-21T10:19:00.000-07:00

tomorrow, it will have been four years ago that we went to liturgy in DC, walked through the market, and had Ethiopian on U St. we should have never ordered two vegetarian platters, but we didn't know. gah. i am so sentimental. i just can't believe i'm this lucky. i mean, he's really great and really smart and we make really cute kids.

before we had met, i had said, "that's an admirable list of favorite authors and books." i was wooed by his impeccable writing on subjects of Orthodoxy and Southern literature. so thankful he wrote back, and for sending his chapbook in the mail. i love the US Postal service and we both made use of it. sending books, music, whatever.

the house is a wreck. i'm not a super great housewife.

today, i've just been making and no cleaning, and it's been great. oatmeal for Mandii (who is about to deliver her new baby girl), something something for the man, books for J.

i got a haircut. the kind that looks great when they style it, but since i don't own a straightening iron, it will never look like this again. for a day at least, i don't feel like a frumpy mom, or like i'll be confused for a duggar when i'm at the store. i can see it on people's faces when i see them, "has she been eating too many bagels?... or???" yes, too many bagels, but also a fetus the size of a... i'm not sure. a 16-week-old fetus. i haven't announced it announced it, meaning it's not on FB. which it's kind of funny, that keeping my fetus off of facebook means that my pregnancy is still sort of in the closet. anyway.

pumpkin patch with the daughter tomorrow and a date with the man.

hope you all have a great weekend.

There's a lot of drama, and we spit, too.

2011-10-17T18:00:00.000-07:00

her greasy brown hair was up in a messy ponytail. she rode in the old truck with her father around our block. he is a regular on our street, picking up other people's trash, occasionally ours. i watch them from our window picking up our broken vacuum cleaner. i grew up with her, but we were not friends. A was tall and big and mean. mean, probably because she was the brunt of every joke. mean because her older sister was the obvious favorite (not to mention thin and beautiful). we were mean because we were all country kids dressed in old clothes with homemade haircuts. none of us fared well at school, but we had each other based on the acquaintance of our parents.

i'm in J's wedding in two weeks. Matron of Honor, even. until recently, i hadn't seen her for over a decade. more like 15 years. not since we were angry teenagers. it's interesting having someone from your childhood back in your life. it's something i don't love to think about (that is, anything pre-2006). i stayed with J and her family a lot as a kid. last night, we were at Target with her mom and her mom was buying me a scarf for her wedding, and i told her not to buy it, that i would. and the lady at the cash register said, "is this your mom?" and i said, "no, but she kind of raised me." the lady told me to let her buy the scarf. i did.

anyway. stupid money and its stupid making everything complicated. we're having a second kid, and the two of us share M's Civic. gets awesome gas mileage (37/38 gallons per mile). but is sooooooooooo small with the convertible carseat in the back. and now there will be two. and knowing us, we'll have three kids and shove them all in the back of the Civic. and knowing us we'll have 4 kids and put one on the roof of the Civic. we test drove a beautiful VW Van. we can afford it, sort of. if we cut down on how much we pay on my student loans. if we didn't eat out. ever. but it's not worth it. being responsible is worth it.

and moving? God only knows.

Pittsburgh is affordable. Frederick is fantastic, but not affordable. Alabama is like Purgatory, unless we decide to stay. ugh.

2011-10-08T10:04:00.000-07:00

the glue is setting on the first book. grey/blue one first. the blue is the color of our living room and hallway. the color of the blue in the rug from M's parent's house.

i've been looking forward to today for two weeks. M started the day helping dad finish the downstairs bathroom. now he's off with flannery, on a walk maybe, or at mom and dad's eating soup. it's noon and i've been up since before 6 but i feel like i just woke up. brianna is on her way over to help with the books, and really just to hang out.

it's an amazing day outside. the kind that people who sleep at night and don't chase children spend in a hammock.

you were born in Alabama, but your mama wants to flee...

2011-10-02T17:24:00.000-07:00

we all three have nasty colds left by our roommate (who moved into a women's home yesterday, where she's really happy and has a little apartment set-up). anyway.

i will quit making proclamations, at least until things are certain. what is certain is that we probably won't be going to Pittsburgh in January, but M will go up before then, and do some sort of training-something-or-other and have beer with his friends and whatnot, which will probably be a lot more fun than having me and Flannery tagging along like last year (where i nursed her behind more than one game machine in various bars). what is also pretty certain is that if he decides not to stay with his company for any reason in the near future then Pittsburgh isn't a good city to live in. that other one is though, the one that's 3.5 hours southeast, the land of milk and honey. the fact is we ARE moving. NORTH. that is all. (i'm on team Maryland, but i always was. don't get me wrong, Pittsburgh would be an awesome city to live in sans children, but we have no family there and it's just...well, there are a lot of things). M thinks i'm being slightly ridiculous with my Frederick is paved with gold bit, but it really is a nice town. i mean, we can walk/bike EVERYWHERE. want to go somewhere? take a train. bam! M's parents-- SALT OF THE EARTH. the town- one of the best Elementary school in the DC Suburbs, Orthodox Church in walking distance, STREETS PAVED WITH GOLD.

i told the man, i said, listen, i will go wherever you want to go. i will make the most of whatever town we end up in, even if that means being left car-less in the South Hills with two crazy children everyday. and i mean it. if M said, "we're moving to Pittsburgh." i would say, "done." and then i would spend far too much time looking up apartments on craigslist. he knows that. he can say that at any time. besides, i really like beer and potatoes. and by then i'll be able to have beer again.

here's the thing. i'm from Alabama. we have an incredible sense of familial responsibility down here. now, i know you yankees just shut yr old folks in homes to die, but we take care of our own. even if we don't like 'em. to a fault, we stay put. i still believe in familial responsibility, and i'll come to Alabama as soon as my mama needs me to and stay for however long, but i'll be damned if i'm going to raise my kids here. that sweet man i married, he has no regrets. none. i mean, probably he rudely made someone feel dumb once, and he probably feels bad about that, but he has no real regrets. not the kind that i have. his childhood was magical, and he admits that. his parents still hold hands. his mom stayed at home until he was in middle school and his daddy worked doing cancer research for the gov. he and his brother are both really good men, and i think it's hard to raise a good man these days. i don't know what i'm doing with these kids, but i'm trying to make sure they don't take too much after their mama (for starters, no dating muchmuchmuch older convicted felons when they're still in high school. just a start). i'm not sure how to do it, but if it means my children will be as good and as happy as my husband then i hope to emulate his mother and the life they led as much as possible.

so, be patient with me. we are moving North. we are getting the house ready to rent. this child swimming in my belly will be born in Alabama but will be raised as a yankee.

(i sing to Flannery, "Oh my darling, oh my darling, oh my darling, Flannery! You were born in Alabama, but yr daddy's a yankee!" her papa says at the end, "but yr mama wants to flee!" a pretty good rendition, i think).

*i don't mean tany of this to be rude to my kinfolk, who have put up with a lot from me.

there is more laboring to be had.

2011-09-05T16:16:00.000-07:00

she’s definitely getting fatter, i think, as she plays on the floor in her 6-9 month pajamas. i’m not looking forward to her 18-month appointment, where they will tell me she’s only gained a pound, and she’s still too little. have you met her parents? i’ll ask. she’s not going to be in the wnba. it’s just not in the cards for her.

a lady i haven’t seen in a decade is living with us with her tiny baby. they found themselves homeless, and she found me. this is the second time we have lived together in 15 years. she needed a place to stay when i was in high school, when all of my friends were in college. they have flannery’s room, which is working out ok. she doesn’t use it anyway. i told her she has until february, when we move out so that we can get the house ready to rent. so that we can move to... pittsburgh! the winning city in our lotto of where to raise our kids. we’ll stay in my parent’s basement (fun fun) until mid-summer so that we can save enough money to move and so that the new baby will be a little bigger. yes, the new baby. i’m due on western easter, our palm sunday. i love palm sunday. well, and holy week and Pascha in general. F was 11 days past due. i’m hoping this kid is 8 days past due and is born on bright monday so that we can go to Pascha.

anyway, yes, that is how i tell my readers, by casually throwing it into a random paragraph.

M is laying on the floor on his back and F is working her wooden puzzle on top of his stomach. they are a cute pair. they are what is all about. M and me, we just make sense. we are introverts who enjoy law and order. and we make truly adorable children. i’m looking forward to our little family finding itself. i was so terrified of getting married and of changing my name. changing my name was a huge deal, so i didn’t do it. i felt like i was a Brock, i have always been a Brock. they are my people. 3 years later, and i am madly in love with his family the Reeds. i’m really honored to be a Reed, and to be M’s wife. he’s such a good man that i don’t deserve and for as much as i kvetch about being lonely, life would be desolate without him and F and new baby Reed. i plan to change my name when we move. and chop of Amy and just go by Elizabeth. Elizabeth Reed. it’s nice, no? you can still call me Amy. you can call me whatever you want.

it is so windy and rainy and we are restless this day of labor. i scrubbed the floors and touched up paint. M moved furniture and cleaned the floors. i still feel like we haven’t accomplished anything.

time to get crazy pants ready for bed. i hope you are all well.

Visual Artistry, Motherhood, Wifery.

2011-08-19T05:12:00.000-07:00

In about 2.5 seconds I will have to get up and get my toddler off of the dining room chair she just climbed into. As often as I teach her how to get out, she still gets scared and hollers, "stuck! stuck!" until I come save her. Aaaaand there she goes.

She is now standing at our prayer corner (* area in Orthodox homes, usually facing East, where we pray) and doing her version of the sign of the cross and doing a metanoia. Humbling, to say the least.

Enough about my kid. For now.

Stuck!

They tell you all the time that balance is important. We follow a line of parenting coined by Dr. Bob Sears as Attachment Parenting (like the weirdos on that movie _Away We Go_, but not quite as weird). I don't know that I would say I regret... Stuck!... following AP with F, but I know I'll do things differently with the next kid. Especially with sleep. Anyway, it's an incredibly time-consuming and touchy way of parenting. It includes baby wearing, nursing, and co-sleeping. In general, it means that you respond to your child's needs instead of trying to make them into mini-adults that can rationalize why you're ignoring their cries. Stuck! It has been really important to me to be home with my kid/s until they go to elementary school. So, that's the plan.

My concerns are that I'll forget things about printing. I'll forget how to make my favorite papers. I'm losing contact with other artists. We want to have a second baby close to F, and when that happens, I'm already embarrassed about announcing it. Babies just don't happen in my old circle. Even among the marrieds. It's true- if you want to take off in your career, even your low-paying artist career- a baby will probably ruin your chances for a while. BUT, it's temporary. My mantra has become, "This too shall pass, and I'll probably miss it when it's gone." Stuck! There's this thing that happens when you have a kid-- you lose like 90% of your friends. It's just hard for people without kids to accept the complications that go with being friends with people with kids. Fair enough, I guess.

I have to get F ready- we're going mall walking with a friend. No joke. I'm a suburban mom. I'll resume this during nap time. Back from mall walking. F is napping ON TOP OF ME because she hates to sleep. She hates it. I imagine her working night shift someplace as an adult, or getting all of her inspiration from the stars. I said I was going to quit talking about her, didn't I?

See? That's the thing. She has taken over every aspect of my life. I don't recognize myself anymore. For the most part, I wear what fits. I throw my long hair up into a bun because I don't want F to be swinging from my braids. And it's easy. It's no secret that sleep deprivation wreaks havoc on your metabolism. So, between that and being too exhausted to care, it doesn't look good for me. I'm not selling you on having children, am I?

Well, she's terrific if you needed to know.

Visual Artistry- I am worried about losing my community. All of their get togethers are at night, and in Tuscaloosa. I still nurse F one last time before M puts her to bed, so it's hard to get out. I don't know anyone in Birmingham, and even if I did, do they want a chubby mama hanging around? I wonder how much of it is in my head and how much of my mom-ness is reality. I feel like I expell dork now and I have the phrase from the SNL sketch stuck in my head, "because you're not a woman, you're a mom!"

When you can't print, paint. So, I've done a few paintings, and I'm going to keep it up. Eventually I'll have enough to do something with. I'm working on some Orthodox Children's books (which is the ultimate goal for St. Seraphim Press).

It's 5:30pm on a Saturday night. M just went to the store to get me some Twizzlers (such an enabler!).

Our plan is to watch reruns of The Office until bedtime.

I really do have an awesome life. Married the nicest man. Have the cutest kid. The rest will figure itself out.

while the man puts the child to bed, i ramble.

2011-07-31T17:00:00.000-07:00

i rarely make art anymore. i sometimes wonder how my degree will play out in my life. i think about becoming an iconographer, but i think my talents (talents?) would be better served in just making pieces that reflect my faith in ways that aren't so... holy? predictable? i don't know. i won't always be a stay-at-home-mom (or will i? and will that mean that i will adapt to life at home and blend art with child rearing?). sometimes i worry that making art is a sort of overproduction and is wasteful in a way. for instance, i made this horrible (totally embarrassing) piece for an art auction in 2005. a local coffee shop owner bought it and i was mortified every time i'd go into the shop. recently, i was there meeting a friend for coffee and i saw it peeping out of the dumpster. i thought, "thank God."

2011-07-18T12:28:00.000-07:00

F's new thing is to hug my neck. Literally wraps her arms around my neck and plants her wide open mouth in a slobbery kiss on my cheek. Sometimes she just sits there with her cheek pressed up against mine. She has such a great personality. She's going to be a really fun girl- she's super spunky. She's also incredibly sweet.

Her words include: Please, thank you, no, bumble bee, ruff (as in the sound a dog makes), mama, papa, papa-d, grandpa. I highly doubt you care about her new words, but I don't want to forgot them.

We just got back from an amazing trip to AZ where you would not believe how beautiful it is. There is nothing like an incredible Greek Orthodox Monastery and glorious red rocks to renew your faith and inspire you to create art.

2011-07-05T18:07:00.000-07:00

they are everything good that has every happened to me. it is terrifying to love so much.

(M is having drinks with a friend in the city. Flambeau is asleep. i am drinking a glass of wine and missing them both. ha)

2011-06-28T13:37:00.000-07:00

I keep packing up our belongings and every once in a while, I unpack them. Put the books back on the built-ins, a couple of our wedding photos back into place. The photo of Matt on his mom’s back 30 years ago, the way I wear Flannery on my back. They are picking apples. That picture makes me real happy. I put it next the one of them together at our wedding. A sweet mother/son duo.

I packed them back up again. I packed up my Turkish tea set, too. Put the tiny glass cups in a shoe box.

All of our books, save the religious ones, and Flannery O’Connor.

I pour over Pittsburgh apartments on Craigslist. I read about getting your home ready to rent. I read about winter wear and driving on ice.

I have always been eager to leave; it really hasn’t mattered where I was.

But this is different. This is about Flannery as much as it is about my itchy nature. Maryland is too expensive, Pittsburgh is the next best option. We can afford Pittsburgh, and I'm not convinced that we can afford to stay here (I mean beyond finances, of course).

I’ve always been disappointed when we’ve visited Pittsburgh together. Because when M lived there it was so magical to me. I loved his loft apartment (the swanky kind that a single man with a good job can afford, in a gentrifying neighborhood). I would spend the entire day baking while he was at work. I loved it. Loved it. I loved walking everywhere. I loved walking across the bridges the most. Pittsburgh is where I fell in love with that man, but Pittsburgh is just where his job is. Where his friends are. Where his Church is. All good enough reasons to live in a city. We will just always see Rachel Carson Bridge in a different light. i'm ok with that. It will always make my heart skip a beat.

Maryland isn’t that far away, either.

Kingwood followers

2011-06-06T06:35:00.001-07:00

are any of ya'll planning on going to the reunion? cuz i'm not if ya'll aren't. i was such a weirdo in high school (well, really until i was like 23) that i spend a lot of time trying to avoid anyone who knew me pre-2007. HOWEVER, i would love to see you guys, so if you're planning on going i'd stop by.

i'd still love to have everyone over sometime.

2011-06-05T04:21:00.000-07:00

We went to Elamville yesterday with dad to see my great aunt helen. she's hitting 90, so we try to get down there often to see her. in my search for the perfect place to raise flannery, i sometimes am idealistic about the deepest south. untouched. the house my dad grew up in, which is where his grandfather grew up (not in the same house, though, i'm pretty sure my grandfather built it), is next to aunt bea's house, across the street is my grandfather's store (perfect for a studio!). behind the store is my aunt's trailer and the old, falling apart, methodist church. lots of land in between. when i was a kid we used to spend great parts of our summers there. running around the woods, building forts. i used to sit on the counter at my grandad's store while the workers came in and got a soda and vienna sausages for lunch. but all those workers are dead or gone. the only people left are the poorest of the poor. it's not the place i knew as a child.

i meet other little kids, and i am terrified for my own little kid. they're all brats. none of them say, "thank you" or they run over flannery and don't bother to say they're sorry, or even acknowledge that they did it. they expect new toys. they watch too much tv. they're borderline obese.

raising kids is terrifying. for so many reasons. when you have a baby it's like you're struck with this sense that nothing else in the world matters and you have to protect that little person.

that's all we're trying to do with all this moving business. just trying to figure out where flannery would be safe, and happy, and smart (and where we could work, obviously).

maryland is my favorite. i hope we can figure out a way to make it work.

04/08/11

2011-06-04T02:46:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I feel an urgent need to print something. Like right now, at 4:45 in the morning while the man and child sleep. I could go down to my basement, play some tunes, and print away on the Vandercook that I sold.

I didn't have the money to make it work. I needed supplies. I needed help getting it off of the pallets. I had neither. Selling it was the better decision. Doesn't mean I can't be bitter about it. Especially now that we're not moving to MD in the near future, where at least there are places to print.

We're about to go visit my great Aunt Helen in Elamville. We are missing Mule Day and baby Marie's baptism. I am mostly sad about missing Mule Day. I miss all the Gordo folk so much. C'est la vie. I need to get the cloth diapers in the wash before we head out.

2011-06-02T14:12:00.000-07:00

I am where I am and I am with the best people in the world (M and Flannery).

We are home from MD. The house is somewhat clean, the clothes are put away, the floor is freshly mopped, and I'm catching up with the people that I've missed. While we were there we thought of every avenue possible for moving. I made pro/con lists and M made spreadsheets. We could do it. We could move to MD in the early Spring. We would have to live in an apartment smaller than my first when I was an undergrad (and 4x as expensive).

** as an aside, I've been typing this for over an hour with breaks to calm F, who bumped her head, again to stop her from pouring all of her milk on the floor, and then to cuddle because she really hates it when I'm looking at anything that isn't her.

Holy cow Flannery. Yes, it is the end of the world... I'll finish this later.

It's the next day now. Flannery and M are asleep in our bed. She usually sleeps in her crib that's side-car'ed to my side of the bed, but when I get up in the morning M moves over to be near her. I read a lot of Dr. Sears when I was pregnant and it all made sense to me- baby wearing, breastfeeding, co-sleeping. It seemed nomadic in a way, and perhaps transgressive in a generation of babies who have flat heads because they lay down so much of the day. Now, I wonder if I've made the right choice letting her sleep with us. But we've tried to get her out of our bed and I just ended up going to her room a hundred times a night, so she's back in our room. She's a sensitive girl. Hopefully the next kid (God willing) will be calmer. That said, she's a really sweet girl. She gives lots of hugs and kisses that will melt your heart. And she's so petite, so pixie-like. I just always tell myself, "this too shall pass, and I'll miss it when it's gone." I will miss her cuddles when she is too busy and cool to stop and give a hug. sigh.

Back to the other topic.

Anyway, all that to say, we can't really afford to move right now. I want to stay home with F and hopefully have one more baby and stay home while that one's little too. If we both had jobs, we could swing it. It's still on the radar, but now that we've really "tried out" all options, we're just content to stay put. I love our house. It's so Scandinavian. You know, for a 1979 split-level. But after visiting apartments in MD that we can afford, it's a mansion full of possibility. I'm not disappointed. If you had told me before we left that we wouldn't be moving in March afterall, I would have been upset. But I have nothing to be upset about. I married the nicest man. I have the sweetest baby. And a split-level that Apartment Therapy would be proud of.

Sometimes I get overwhelmed about not making books. It is a drag. It's hard to study something, to love it, and then to leave without any resources or time to work. I love the sound of the press. The smell of the ink. The feel of handmade paper. One day I will have the resources to print again. For now, a lot of carving during naptime on blocks that will sit around for a while.
,
The baby is up, back to the salt mine as my dad used to say.

Roll Tide.

2011-05-28T18:26:00.000-07:00

That last post was not to suggest that I think that Alabama is a terrible place, or that somehow moving to Maryland will solve everything. I am not being escapist about this. In fact, I’ve already got a nice, Catholic lady, shrink lined up for when I fall into a steep depression because I can’t go to burrito night with my mom and dad. Ugh. I’m sad just thinking about it. I have a lot of inner turmoil thinking about the decision. My paternal grandmother lives with my parents and I give her her pills and make her food when my mom is out and about. I love her so much, and she’s so old. My maternal grandmother isn’t in the best health, either, though she’s doing better than grandma. But I’ve always felt close to her in a special way. We are kindred spirits of sorts. I have her eyes. She and Flannery share a middle name. I feel guilty for even thinking about leaving either of them. Or my mom, who is also ill. Or my dad, who I adore and is always taking on too much work.

However, I feel like AL is holding me back in some ways. First, there are more places/opportunities here. Certainly M will be happier. We’ll both be healthier.

But I will always love you, Alabama. You are my home.

Manly Deeds, Womanly Words: Maryland.

2011-05-28T06:23:00.001-07:00

My mother-in-law and I stood at the washer/dryer talking while the menfolk figured out how to clean off their ancient computer. My MIL is willowy and beautiful. She grew up in New Hampshire and has had a pretty good life. She married a sweet man and they raised two sweet boys just outside of DC. My FIL was military and worked for the government doing cancer research. My MIL stayed home until the boys were in high school and continues to bake 75% of the bread that is consumed in this house. When sharing war stories about how bad we were as kids, the worst that M or his big brother C can say is that one time C got a spanking because he refused to buckle his seatbelt. One.time. Neither one of them has made any huge mistakes and they both went to respectable colleges and have respectable jobs (and respectable wives if I do say so myself). My in-laws are retired, but work fulltime at the local high school so that they have enough money to travel all summer long. They spent most of last summer in Europe reliving how they met (in Germany). This summer they’re going to tackle the Western US. We’ll meet up with them in Arizona in July. They plan to hike the Grand Canyon from rim to rim. Did I mention they’re in their mid-60s? They now have a small home in Frederick. They walk everywhere, to work, to church, to the grocery store. Everywhere. They hold hands and their love for each other is radiant. I told MIL, "you have a kind of magical life." She said, “I do. Don’t I?”

What I want for my daughter is that she never knows some of the things I’ve known. That she is not bombarded with a persistent sadness that is rooted in Alabama red clay and sand. I never thought I would meet a man like M, a good man. A man who could love me as I am. Dirty feet and tethered to the South and all. We write pro/con lists about moving up here. It’s so expensive. But there are jobs for us both, and good public schools, and a Greek Orthodox church within walking distance. When I am with his family the pro/con list goes out the window. It's as though there is no choice and I think, how could I not want to raise my kids here?

27.05.11

2011-05-27T16:38:00.000-07:00

damn i'm lonely.

So my daughter has the chicken pox.

2011-04-28T10:53:00.000-07:00

Back from the doctor, where they made us sit in the coat closet. It's Chicken Pox, almost certainly.

Mr. Doctor: "It looks like Chicken Pox, but nobody gets Chicken Pox anymore! Everyone is vaccinated!"

Me: "I have several friends who don't vaccinate."

Mr. Doctor: "Why are you friends with them?"

Me: "I dunno. I guess I like them."

Then I got a lecture on the importance of vaccinating. I vaccinate, for what it's worth. He wrote on my chart that we're around unvaxxed kids even though we could have picked it up anywhere. Anyway, can't leave the house until Monday.

I sold my Vandercook, about that.

2011-04-06T07:51:00.000-07:00

Even though we can’t sell the house right now because the market is too bad, we’re still planning on putting the house up for rent in 11 months and moving to MD. Being that the press weighs 1750lbs, we can’t afford to move it and it was sort of looming over me- this broken press that I wanted so badly to use but didn’t have the time or resources to make a working press. So I put it up on Ebay and within hours had several people interested, 60 watching it, and three people who wanted to come see it in person. One of those people, a new printer in the Birmingham area, came by first. I had just gotten in from Atlanta (where I went to present at a Women’s Studies conference, but nobody showed up to my panel. More about that later). Flannery was napping on my back and I was standing in the front yard, just walking around outside trying to keep cranky pants asleep when she drove up. This guy, P, was with her. Our paths crossed in grad school, he was just about to leave and I was just entering the program. I crashed his 30th birthday party, but hadn’t interacted with him much otherwise. He’s a printer, too, and owns at least one Vandercook. He told her how great the press was, gave her some insight into its problems. She ultimately bought the press and is working out how to get it out of my garage. I was seriously bummed out after the sell. My days are pretty monotonous. I clean, I nurse Flannery, I change a million diapers, we read books together, I make dinner. I don’t have a single stimulating conversation a day. I don’t read any interesting books (this is my fault, and probably due to the steep depression I find myself in so often). I don’t keep in touch with anyone from grad school. Nobody. I don’t look at art, I don’t talk about art, I certainly don’t make art. I’m so so so thankful for the mama friends that I have but I don’t want to talk about brands of cloth diapers or how often our kids nurse or whether or not we’re going to send them to preschool anymore. I want a break. I want to go to JClyde’s without kids and drink good beer and talk about anything else.

So, I sold my press.

C, the lady who bought it, called yesterday to discuss payment and how to move it. I started to ramble about how to move it and how to fix it up and it was clear she was just calling for the basics, and it is insane how much I wanted to talk to her. But she’s not my friend, I’m just the lady who sold her a press. I love to talk about Vandercooks though, and it’s been a while.

There’s a much smaller press in Florida for sale for 1K more than I sold my press for. The man says we can buy it, but I feel guilty, because we need to make improvements to the house so we can rent it so we can move so our lives will be better, so he will be out of the basement, so we can walk places, and know people. This press, it’s a C&P and in working condition. I could start printing with it the day I got it set up. I’ve emailed the guy about it twice this week but haven’t heard back. It’s making me crazy, how much I pine for this little press.

Flannery’s BFF turns 1 this week. Sweet Beatrice. I’m almost finished with the birthday dress that I’m making for her. I’m making Flannery a matching dress. Can the world handle such cuteness???? When people see the things I sew they say, “you should sell those!” I probably could, but I don’t really want to. Isn’t it enough that I make things for my family and friends? That’s what women used to do. They canned for their own families. They sewed for their own kids and it wasn’t anything special. I don’t want to sew clothes or trinkets or kitschy postcards.

I want to print. And not wedding invitations.

The dilemma of being an artist and a mother is that (besides that my 1-year-old is trying to type with me) is that I don’t have an income. In that respect I have to earn my keep, or at least I feel like I do. I have to keep my house clean, my baby fed, and not spend too much of my husband's money. So, if I make things and sell them on Etsy, I’m a dilatant- a stay at home mom trying to make a buck off of cutesy homemade goods. That’s not what I want. I really want to be taken seriously. I’m just not a point in my life where I can devote the kind of time necessary.

Sigh.

I’m just sleep deprived and still in my pajamas. The baby needs a nap and I’ve got to go give grandma her pills in an hour. At least there’s Law & Order Criminal Intent. Thank the stars for Eames and Goren!!!!

conversations.

2011-03-29T12:44:00.001-07:00

so i teach a book arts class to high schoolers at a small-ish private school (the same place where i used to teach public speaking/debate). today in class we were doing gelatin prints so i had told them that if they wanted to use words they had to place them backwards on the gelatin. so one girl wrote "love" backwards. this is the conversation that followed. *names are made up

Brandi (after writing "love" backwards to print): Hey Cynthia, remember how our cousin Latasha named her baby Nevaeh, like Heaven spelled backwards? What if you named your baby "love" spelled backwards?

pause.

Cynthia: Girl, don't name your baby Evol!

Brandi: I won't. I'm gonna name my baby Fried Chicken, cuz I love Fried Chicken!

hahahhahahaha. Those kids crack me up all day long.

after class i was talking to a science teacher about baby names. we'll call her Meg. Meg was wearing green cotton pants, sandals and a tie-dyed t-shirt.

Meg: I love that you named your daughter Flannery. Do people get the reference?

Me: sometimes. Or they think I'm Irish. Or they mishear it and think I named her something crazy, like one lady still thinks her name is Flattery.

Meg: hahaha. Someone told me the other day that I must be a hippy! I'm not a hippy!

pause.

Me: Meg, your kids are named Rain and Luna.

True. story.

my daughter has the most incredible eyes...

2011-03-26T17:23:00.000-07:00

(another one by mandii)

this is short and rambly.

2011-03-24T14:28:00.000-07:00

I just listed my press on Ebay.

For more than I paid but for far less than we paid to move it from Utica to MD to Alabaster. We'll see. The thought is that I can just go to Pyramid Atlantic or travel a bit farther to other book arts centers to use their presses. We could certainly use the money from the sell, and having to move it would be more of a pain than it's worth. It was a nice dream, though.

Selling the press is much like selling the house. I will only sell it for at least what I paid (but losing money in the process). We'll only sell the house for what we owe (but most likely won't get what we paid). In the end, as my friend A said today, it's just money.

Plans to move are underway. There's a lot of planning and a lot of waiting. We meet with our real estate agent to look over the house in early May. We're visiting M's family in late May and visiting some apartments while we're there (even though we probably won't move for another year). I'll be honest, I'm nervous. I feel like I'm abandoning my family... But we will all have better opportunities in MD. Flannery will have a very different life there then she would here, and I think that's worth it. Let the painting and the waiting begin!

one year with my girl.

2011-03-17T05:55:00.000-07:00

the day she was born. those are my father's hands. photo taken by Mandii (who else?).

Flannery and Job. Sweet.sweet.sweet.

F (as she goes for his hand)- That's a nice stego on yr shirt, Jobby.

-------

My baby girl is 1 year old.

This time last year, my dad was bringing me a biscuit at the hospital (as I type this it’s 7:30am). I was in a daze still. They had taken Flannery again, more tests or something. They were worried she had a blood sugar problem because she was so huge. It’s funny that she came into the world in the 90% but at 12 months she’s swimming in her 9-12 m clothing, and her height is only in the 10%. Her parent’s aren’t tall people, though. I miss her being so little, and compliant (ha!). I don't miss the allergies, or trips to Children's hospital, or hours and hours a day walking up and down the hall while she screamed. I miss her newborn expressions that I see less and less every day... all that said, having a toddler is a lot of fun.

Things I keep meaning to write down:
She took her first step on January 21st at Mikey’s house.
A week later, she took three steps to me from her walker.
On March 5th she started babbling. All.the.time.
About a week later she said, “Papa.”

Words she knows:
Mama, Dada, Papa (he’s so special he gets two names), zoom (as in cars), moo, hi, bye, uh-oh

I thought I would be more sad, or sentimental when she turned 1. But yesterday was like all the other days. R and Z were down with their boy (and F’s future Mr!), Job. He’s 8-months-old, but is both taller and stockier than Flannery. He’s really sensitive and sweet and Flannery is full of mischief. She kissed him twice, sat on him once, and patted his head over and over again. I think she’s smitten.

Flannery in her new Wal-Mart digs.

2011-03-13T17:26:00.001-07:00

after eating a fistful of dirt.

Why I'm glad I had a hospital birth

2011-03-10T06:48:00.000-08:00

Let me start by saying that the only people who give a flying flip how you give birth seem to be home birth advocates. They are the only people who have ever asked me how I gave birth. I highly doubt any of you care, but nearing my daughter's first birthday, I feel like writing about it. So.

When I was pregnant I was vocal about my fear of hospitals, my distrust of doctors, my desire for a midwife and a home birth. Thankfully, the first midwife I tried to hire was a flake and we never met up and finally I decided against her. My OB was midwife recommended. He agreed that he was trained to handle emergencies, not normal birth, that he preferred natural birth because he could just sit there and catch the baby.

I have a lot of hippie friends who buy into woo and are home birth advocates (since I’m pretty sure nobody reads this blog, I don’t feel bad writing that). They’ve had homebirths and thank God nothing bad has happened. Matt and I were going to hire a doula, to help with the natural birth at the hospital. I met with one lady (who ended up being our childbirth class instructor- she was fantastic). But I was scared, and I’m shy and I didn’t like the idea of not really knowing her but her being there and seeing my lady bits, so I stalled and during the two weeks I took to think about it someone with my same due date hired her. At the same time I was teaching a high school book arts class, and I had a helper in the class. She had 5 kids and had been a doula for over a decade back in the day. She drug her youngest to Grateful Dead shows and none of her kids are vaccinated. She agreed to be my doula. We met several times and talk about our plans to have a natural birth. She had only had homebirths and encouraged me to meet her midwife, which I did, at the Golden Temple a lady in her mid-50s with big earrings and a T-shirt that read “Midwives Help People Out.” She gave me her giant book about homebirth. I was thrilled and really wanted to hire her on the spot. Thankfully, my husband was not on board. I was so upset about it. It was my birth! My body would have to go through this, not his! Besides, we live 5 minutes from the hospital! Anyway, we moved on and kept working towards our hospital birth. Flannery was 11 days past due. The nurses kept telling me I would be induced. I was TERRIFIED of being induced. The NCB (natural childbirth) community had made it clear that if I was induced I would end up with a c-section. If I had a c-section I wouldn’t be able to bond with my baby, breastfeeding would be harder. I heard over and over again about how c-sections greatly increase the risk of maternal death. I was told that most were unnecessary. NCB advocates would say that your doctor is on a schedule, just wants to get home for dinner, and that’s why they would want to induce you, cut the baby out if you’re not progressing fast enough. I don’t mean to take the experiences of women who feel like they were rushed in birth lightly, but I also think it’s bull to pit women against their OB.

I was due March 5th. On March 14th (Sunday) we decided to go to a movie (M, me, my dad and my SIL, H). We saw Up in the Air at the $1 theater in hoover. We got into bed around 10pm. My hips had been killing me for weeks. I was almost in tears lifing a leg to put my pants on. It was bad. Anyway, I said to M as I got into bed that I really hoped my water didn’t break in bed because I would never make it out in time. Around 2am I woke up and I said, “Oh sh!t! My water’s breaking!” and I ran to the bathroom. There was meconium in it (so I wouldn’t have been able to birth at home anyway), so we called H, made a sandwich, and headed to the hospital. 24 hours later I got the epidural. 28 hours later, Flannery was born.
Things I wish I had known:

Candles, dim lights, music, are a joke during labor. Labor is hell. Next kid I’m getting the shot in the back ASAP.

After the baby is born, everyone runs to the baby. It is shockingly lonely. I’m SO thankful my SIL H and BFF Brianna were there. Bri was running around taking pictures. H stayed and held my hand while I shook uncontrollably and dealt with the rest of the birth.

The only thing beautiful about birth is the baby. The rest of it is disgusting.

Anyway, I don’t really care how other women give birth. What I do care about are the lies that the NCB community spit out constantly. I also care about dead babies. In women’s studies we like to talk about home birth as a choice, like abortion is a choice. It seems that we’re really only concerned about the most selfish of choices. I guess in that respect, sure, women have the right to birth at home. If we have the right to have our children sucked out of the womb we have the right to risk the babies that we do want lives by giving birth at home.

America has some of the lowest standards for midwives. A Certified Practicing Midwife can have a high school diploma and a “certificate” much of which can be earned online. If we backed Certified NURSE Midwives I would feel better about supporting American women’s rights to birth at home.

Babies born at home are 3x more likely to die as a result (in the US). You can say you’re 5 minutes away from the hospital, but are they ready for you? Are you able to get up and run to the hospital seconds after giving birth? 5 minutes is a long time.

Anyway. Even if I did want blood and vomit all over my house, I have no desire to ever give birth at home. Take me to the place with endless clean hospital gowns and towels I don’t have to wash. Shoot me in the back, and make sure my kid is breathing and healthy.

It's Lent, a bit about that...

2011-03-08T07:36:00.000-08:00

I should begin by saying that I am not an intellect, nor do I consider myself to be particularly “good” at being an Orthodox Christian. But God forgives, and I try. I wanted to write this because it is known to those in my immediate circle that Lent has begun and that for the next several weeks our diet is a little different and not without reason.

Great Lent began yesterday for the Orthodox Church. We call this week “Clean week.” The particularly ascetic do not eat anything after lunch on Sunday until after Liturgy Wednesday night, and then again they fast until after Liturgy Friday. After that a strict fast of no dairy, meat, olive oil, or alcohol is kept (though on some days wine/oil/fish are allowed). When I first became Orthodox I truly fell into the “obnoxious” category. In fact, Fredericka Matthewes-Green has a great podcast called “Obnoxious Converts” that I encourage you to listen to. Anyway, my first Lent, I wasn’t even Chrismated yet so I couldn’t commune at the services, I was really strict. I really wanted to do it right. I didn’t eat anything during clean week. It wasn’t smart though, because I didn’t know what I was doing. And I was working the papermill, still biking everywhere, and I have blood sugar issues (this was the same year that I passed out in the bindery). I haven't done that since then, but perhaps will try again someday, when my body is no longer nourishing a dependent child. I think one thing that is hard to understand is the purpose of the fast. For instance, we go out to dinner and everyone orders burgers and because we’re “fasting” we eat our fill of French fries. In that way we are technically keeping the fast, but because we are weak we miss the mark, or the point. But we don’t get bogged down in our imperfection. There is always tomorrow to try harder. In fact, in our failing to keep the fast we are reminded of our dependence on God and of our own imperfections.

In the introduction to The Lenten Triodion, Metr. Kallistos Ware tells us that we must remember the body in terms of our spirituality. He says to focus on the rules is legalistic, but it is deplorable to ignore them. He says that it is a modern notion that our brain is most important, when our body is, as scripture tells us, “a temple.” Over and over again spiritual leaders tell us to maintain discipline over our stomachs and our mouths. This lent I am trying a few new things, to practice silence, to let myself be hungry, and to gain control other more personal struggles.

I don’t have anything else to add, except that, it’s Lent and until Pascha/Easter (on the same day this year! April 24) we won’t be eating any animal products, but don’t try to “cook” for us, we can always manage. Also, we will fail, but as our God forgives, please forgive us, and forgive me, for being so obnoxious in the beginning. Lent is a time of repentance, a time of sorrow at the death of Christ to be followed by the great joy of His Resurrection and of our eternal salvation! If you want to read more, I encourage you to seek our more informed writers, or listen to some of the lectures on Ancient Faith Radio.

You should read these.

2011-03-07T05:53:00.000-08:00

55 Maxims for Christian Living
by Fr. Thomas Hopko
1. Be always with Christ.
2. Pray as you can, not as you want.
3. Have a keepable rule of prayer that you do by discipline.
4. Say the Lord’s Prayer several times a day.
5. Have a short prayer that you constantly repeat when your mind is not occupied with other things.
6. Make some prostrations when you pray.
7. Eat good foods in moderation.
8. Keep the Church’s fasting rules.
9. Spend some time in silence every day.
10. Do acts of mercy in secret.
11. Go to liturgical services regularly
12. Go to confession and communion regularly.
13. Do not engage intrusive thoughts and feelings. Cut them off at the start.
14. Reveal all your thoughts and feelings regularly to a trusted person.
15. Read the scriptures regularly.
16. Read good books a little at a time.
17. Cultivate communion with the saints.
18. Be an ordinary person.
19. Be polite with everyone.
20. Maintain cleanliness and order in your home.
21. Have a healthy, wholesome hobby.
22. Exercise regularly.
23. Live a day, and a part of a day, at a time.
24. Be totally honest, first of all, with yourself.
25. Be faithful in little things.
26. Do your work, and then forget it.
27. Do the most difficult and painful things first.
28. Face reality.
29. Be grateful in all things.
30. Be cheefull.
31. Be simple, hidden, quiet and small.
32. Never bring attention to yourself.
33. Listen when people talk to you.
34. Be awake and be attentive.
35. Think and talk about things no more than necessary.
36. When we speak, speak simply, clearly, firmly and directly.
37. Flee imagination, analysis, figuring things out.
38. Flee carnal, sexual things at their first appearance.
39. Don’t complain, mumble, murmur or whine.
40. Don’t compare yourself with anyone.
41. Don’t seek or expect praise or pity from anyone.
42. We don’t judge anyone for anything.
43. Don’t try to convince anyone of anything.
44. Don’t defend or justify yourself.
45. Be defined and bound by God alone.
46. Accept criticism gratefully but test it critically.
47. Give advice to others only when asked or obligated to do so.
48. Do nothing for anyone that they can and should do for themselves.
49. Have a daily schedule of activities, avoiding whim and caprice.
50. Be merciful with yourself and with others.
51. Have no expectations except to be fiercely tempted to your last breath.
52. Focus exclusively on God and light, not on sin and darkness.
53. Endure the trial of yourself and your own faults and sins peacefully, serenely, because you know that God’s mercy is greater than your wretchedness.
54. When we fall, get up immediately and start over.
55. Get help when you need it, without fear and without shame.

also,

2011-03-02T11:54:00.000-08:00

holy crap. Saturday is the anniversary of my due date.

this time last year i was hanging out in flannery's room imagining what life would be like with her here.

2011-03-02T10:55:00.000-08:00

i'm sorry i never write, but i'm pretty sure you all hate mommy bloggers, and now i'm a mommy with a blog. but i won't give you recipes or tell you the best way to keep stains out of your cloth diaper stash (ok, the sun). i'm am far to busy having fun with my girl to wallow in a "i'm-wasting-my-life" depression.

in fact, i don't think i'm wasting my life. i have never been happier. IT IS INSANE HOW HAPPY I AM.

i told M this morning, i feel like i am in a dream. i want to soak up every second of right now with my sweet man, and my baby girl, a toddler now walking all over the place.

sap. i'm a total sap these days.

2011-02-23T08:36:00.000-08:00

I want to wake up before the sun and hop on my bike and ride to Gorgas, pick up a free New York Times, and start printing before anyone else has arrived. I want to be the first to get coffee at the shop downstairs ($1 for coffee all day!) and be done with three pressruns before critique.

I want to sleep for hours in a row. More hours than two. Even if I printed for 12 hours in a day I had no idea how easy I had it.

But nothing is as glorious as being Flannery’s mama. There is nothing better than slobbery kisses in the morning after a particularly hard night. The night are all hard these days. Earaches. Teething. Separation anxiety.

this changes everything.

2011-01-13T17:53:00.000-08:00

new zodiac sign means i'm a Sagittarius not a Capricorn. my life has been a lie!

The Beginning of my 27th year, as M would put it.

2011-01-12T07:22:00.000-08:00

39 “friends” wished me a happy birthday on facebook. Some of them, most of them, I don’t actually keep in touch with in any kind of real way. Without fb these are the people that would be lost in life. 20-years from now when I heard So-and-so Lastname was going to have a show at Such-and-Such gallery, I would remember that time we rode our bikes to the pub, and how she was a nice lady. But now, b/c of fb, I know where she ate lunch yesterday. I don’t like this. I don’t think any of us do, but here we are.

M is reading a book called The Quest for Community : A Study in the Ethics of Order and Freedom. It was published in 1953, long before fb. I haven’t read it yet, so this won’t be a book review, but apparently there’s part of it where the guy talks about creating false communities when real ones are lost. I think that’s precisely what we’ve done. Being available to your kids and maintaining a home didn’t used to be so isolating. But now, I’m not sure what to do. Part of me wants this false community. but it’s bittersweet. Only one person called me yesterday to wish me happy birthday. A guy from high school, I went to prom with him, and we catch up once a year, sometimes twice. This isn’t as much about my birthday as it is about isolation.

Being a mom is incredibly isolating. I believe this is why moms are such idiots sometimes and fighting about whether or not formula is rat poisoning, or whether or not all women should try to “go natural” when giving birth (bullshit. The only thing beautiful about birth is the baby. Feeling every pang, doesn’t make you a superhero- unless of course that’s your identity). Anyway, really, we’re just lonely. I’d like to be an idealist and try to think of ways to “fix” this problem. Create a collective of mothers, but I have a feeling the only women who would dig that are hippie anti-vax mamas (won’t go off on that. Besides to say that it’s hard to respect my friends who don’t vaccinate). So for now, I’ll just try to survive this time. Spend as much time with Flannery as possible while she’s small and still likes me, and when she goes to school, try to get a job.

Here’s what’s new. I love my life. I love it. It’s so boring, and every day is basically the same. Feed the kid. Clean the kitchen. Change the kid. Wash the laundry, etc. I couldn’t have married a nicer man, and I like our routine, for now. I think it’s safe to say, not declare, that we are getting the house ready to put on the market. It’ll go on the market in a year’s time. If all goes well, we’re moving to MD. I AM SO EXCITED! That said, the market is crap, so it might take some time, and probably won't happen until Summer 2012. There are better opportunities for both of us there, his parents are there, the schools for Flannery are great. The apartments that we like are in walking distance to the little downtown, the Greek Orthodox Church, the grocery store, and the Elementary school. I think it’ll be easier to have community there. At the very least, my kid/s will get a good education and I’ll know what it’s like to live somewhere new.

2010-12-17T11:29:00.000-08:00

yesterday was Flannery's 9-month-birthday.

on her birthday she started clapping. SO CUTE. she claps all the time now. at Children's Hospital this morning we saw our favorite nurse and Flannery laughed and clapped. When the male nurse came to weigh her and measure her she huffed and puffed and made it clear that he was not who she wanted to see. She cracks me up all day long.

so, the economy is crap. we have a niceish house. M built me some industrial shelves in the basement for my book arts crap which is one step closer to having a studio. it's Christmas. i am so looking forward to seeing the in-laws (they are coming down) and Christmas Eve vigil and Liturgy on Christmas day. the choir at St. Symeon's is amazing. so, everyone calm down. this is where you are. these are the people you are with. sleep or no sleep, it's a pretty good gig.

2010-12-15T15:11:00.001-08:00

for the first three months i was just trying to survive. for the second three months i was trying to adjust. the past three months (6-9) have been the most fun. there is nothing in the world i would rather be doing than hanging out with flannery every day and every night. she's such a funny girl.

2010-12-09T06:28:00.000-08:00

i spend my entire day and night with flannery, and when she is napping, i find myself looking at photos of her.

who needs Sears? F's holiday pictures.

2010-12-07T13:13:00.000-08:00

my strawberry-blonde infant

2010-12-05T08:20:00.001-08:00

dear F,

at 8.5 moths you are standing like a pro, always trying to get into stuff, keeping me on my toes. you are fiercely independent, and at the same time get so upset if i dare go into a different room. thank goodness for babywearing. i try to tie you on my back, like they do in Africa, but you prefer the front. you have 5 teeth, and sore gums from two more that are trying to come in.

i am jealous of your beautiful hair. i hope it's reddish forever.

xoxo,

su madre

yes, i'm posting this. get over it. i think it's sweet.

2010-12-03T04:38:00.000-08:00

I hope that my child, looking back on today
Will remember a mother who had time to play;
Because children grow up while you're not looking,
There are years ahead for cleaning and cooking.
So, quiet now cobwebs, dust go to sleep.
I'm rocking my baby, and babies don't keep.

thanksgiving at the in-laws. you won't regret it.

2010-11-25T08:54:00.001-08:00

i'm convinced, if you went through facebook and found all of your friends who post a lot, and examined their lives, they are probably pretty lonely people. or moms, which means they are also lonely most likely. in fact, deleting my fb account is my #1 new year's goal. my #2 is to floss every day. big, big, goals for the new year.

i have the infant sleeping in my lap. i could leave her in the bed but there are no rails... so i'm not sure what to do. M (or Uncle M as he's known in these parts) is playing Sorry with the nephews. so much craziness happening. little boys are little monsters. so loud and destructive. obviously, i love all of my nephews, but i won't lie to you cyber world, having a son t.e.r.r.i.f.i.e.s me. only sometimes, because i think we're both even-tempered people and little Basil or George or Roman or whatever the heck we name him should he ever exist, will be sweet, like his father.

so we made this declaration "we are moving to Pittsburgh!" and i was on board, i was, but now i'm not. there are several reasons. for instance, while i was there i was checking out neighborhoods to live in. the good ones are pricey, obviously. the school F will go to is in the south hills and nobody goes to the south hills. nobody crosses rivers. it's a rule in Pittsburgh. it's not close at all the M's work and i don't want to spend 2 hours a day in the car just so F gets an Orthodox education. but that's not the reason, not the main one. 1) the snow is gray. dirty and sludgy. 2) driving there sucks and one of us will have to drive. 3) there isn't a book arts center, or facility for printing. i asked around. at art stores. at antiquarian book stores. online. nobody knew a letterpress printer. finally, out of desperation, i ask a dreadlocked woman at the coffee shop (i can't judge. i was once a dreadlocked woman at a coffee shop). she was excited! yes! and wrote down on a scrap of paper this collective that i HAVE to check out... wait for it... the Cyberpunk Apocalypse. not that i consider myself to be a "fine" printer or a "fine" binder, but my training is fine and i lean that way. so.

ok, so solutions. M hates working in the basement. we will put the house on the market in 2012 (can't before then for tax reasons). we are now looking at the DC metro area. oh em gee i love it here. it's wintery, but kind of nice, not as nasty for as long. the public schools are great. walking to everything. a bounty of jobs for M. and Pyramid Atlantic. M's family is here (they are the salt of the earth). it's pricey, so we'll have to rent for a while, live in a smallish apartment. out of all of the options, it's the one i'm currently rooting for. but, we have a year. i just really want so much for Flannery. i want more than Alabaster, AL can give her. i also want to think that once my child/ren are in school i will have a place to create work, and work. i miss the papermill so much. however, i am convinced that having her right as i was graduating was a good thing (not that i planned it). it's easier to stay at home before you get your career started, rather than getting your career established and then taking a break to take care the kids while they are small. unless we are eating crumbs off the floor sending them to daycare is not an option.

she's still asleep. the kids are quieter. maybe if i walk out there with her she won't wake up. i'm tired of being alone... need to put my casserole in the oven. get this, i made a cake, a sweet potato casserole, and a pecan pie and i can't eat any of it.

happy dairy/egg/soy free thanksgiving! i'm thankful for a healthy baby girl.

update, of sorts.

2010-11-18T06:23:00.000-08:00

A couple of weeks ago (a little more than that, really) M and me and the baby followed my dad and SIL up to TN to prepare for picking up my big brother from the airport. He was flying in from the sandbox we’re at war with for his two-week break. The rest of the family planned on being at the airport too. We made silly signs (one said, “hey Brock! Over here!” and another for biggest brother that read, “Proud Big Brother.” He got an early flight though, and it was just my dad, me, M and F, and my SIL (most important!). He came, we separated for a little while and met back up at a catfish place that brother wanted to go to. It was gross, but hanging out with the family was nice. I write about this only because the day stood out to me. It was one of those days where you just know that you are alive. You are aware of your mortality and that of those around you. You have this one life, and these people that you’re stuck with and wouldn’t do without anyway.

He’s back over there now. M and I are on a 3 week trip. First we went to IN to serve as baby Job’s godparents. His parents are F’s godparents. He’s the sweetest boy. The size of F but 4 months younger (Flannery’s a little peanut though). It was weird visiting them someplace other than Nashville. The day after the baptism we drove to Pittsburgh. M had a business trip and I drove around, trying to like some part of the city, trying to figure out a good place for us to live (should we move there). I was a lot more excited about the idea of moving there before this visit. We have a year that we have to live in AL. We’ll use that year to figure out what’s best for our family. Things change in a year, so we’ll see.

Anyway, F got sick in Pittsburgh. We drug her all over the place visiting M’s friends. I definitely nursed her behind a gaming machine at a bar (it's really not as bad as it sounds...). It was a fun week, but we paid for it with many, many sleepless nights and then I got sick, so we’ve been hanging out in MD recovering while M works in his parent’s office. We’re here until post-Thanksgiving. I’m working on crafty Christmas presents.

I’m still trying to reconcile what you give up to be a mother. I swear, the minute you have a kid, you will look at your mother in a new light. I’ve heard people who have terrible relationships with their mothers agree. I’m trying to relish it, this time of infancy. She’s already so big, trying to walk, babbling all the time. God-willing, there will be more. And I’ll survive their infancies as well.

With a little help I can make books and prints. I’m not there yet, but I can hope.

2010-10-21T02:26:00.000-07:00

Last night was the Pan-Orthodox vespers at the Greek Cathedral. Flannery did really well throughout it. I've missed the Greek Church and it was good to see everyone. Even better was that both of my communities were worshiping together. There was a symposium afterwards, but we didn't stay for long because Flannery turns into a pumpkin after 7pm.

Three years ago today I met M. Seems like it's been so much longer than that. Three of the best years of my life! I thank God that we met.

I hope you are all well today. Flannery has been up since 3.30am and is finally asleep, so I'm going back to bed.
xoxo

10/13/10

2010-10-13T12:44:00.000-07:00

I have a strawberry blonde infant asleep in my lap. She is the happiest baby you will ever meet. It’s a party all the time in Flannery’s world, and if it’s not the world is ending.

I have survived the first 7 months of motherhood. I apologize to my two readers for complaining so much about it. I never knew how difficult caring for an infant could be, or the isolation. But we make it. It’s temporary. Every sleepless night I try to remind myself that this will pass, and that in a way I enjoy it, and will sorely miss it when it’s gone. I’ll miss our late night nursing sessions. I’ll miss her sleeping in the crook of my arm. And it’s pretty impressive how used to not sleeping a person can get.

And it’s official- but not facebook official because I have friends that we want to tell in person- we’re moving this Summer (God-willing). I won’t tell you where, but I will tell you that I’ll have to buy a coat and that it’s a city, and that it has more bridges than any city in the world. EEK!

2010-09-03T12:56:00.000-07:00

alright, betty friedan, we can have it out now, or commiserate as it is.

i think i spoke too soon about teaching at um.

i spent the whole day cleaning in between calming a crying baby.

the most exciting thing that's happened this week is that i got a new batch of cloth diapers in the mail. they're currently being prepped in the washing machine. they will make things slightly easier.

i missed my friend's thesis defense because i forgot about it. i'm really upset about it. i miss those people but can't help but feel that i no longer belong in their world.

my own thesis was disappointing. i was pregnant and had to finish a semester early. the only thing i've made recently is canned peach honey,

this weekend i'm babyproofing instead of fixing up a "studio." when i'm not sleeping 99.8% of my time is spent taking care of her. she's in my lap right now, trying to crawl out, but if i put her down she'll scream. what i know is that i need to make this home safe for her. what i don't know is whether or not i'll be able to make anything once i have a space to make it in. i should go with what i know.

i would slap somebody for a margarita, some cheese dip, and some alone time. i can't have any of those three things, though.

woe unto me!

2010-08-30T04:39:00.000-07:00

"Hello, babies. Welcome to Earth. It's hot in the summer and cold in the winter. It's round and wet and crowded. At the outside, babies, you've got about a hundred years here. There's only one rule that I know of, babies— damn it, you've got to be kind."
- Kurt Vonnegut

2010-08-26T17:07:00.000-07:00

betty friedan be damned!
teaching at my alma mater in the spring.

2010-08-26T06:15:00.000-07:00

betty friedan was right. betty friedan was right. betty friedan was right.
ohmygod.

2010-07-28T18:03:00.000-07:00

“Like every mother since the first mother, I was overcome and bereft, exalted and ravaged. I had crossed over from girlhood. I beheld myself as an infant in my mother’s arms, and caught a glimpse of my own death” (The Red Tent, pg 270).

2010-07-28T04:52:00.001-07:00

She rolled for the first time on June 1st, from her tummy to her back.

Yesterday she did a double roll from her back for the first time.

This morning she rolled all.the.way.across. the livingroom rug.

Proud? Yes. But this also means I'll have to start vacuuming with some regularity and baby-proof. We have the most unsafe/un-child friendly house around. Hardwood floors and antique furniture used to seem like such a great idea...

being flannery's mama

2010-07-21T07:38:00.000-07:00

is more important than not wasting my graduate education.

teaching with a baby=fail

a nice experiment, though, and good stories to tell her when she's older.

teaching women studies with a baby on my back.

2010-07-13T04:12:00.000-07:00

i'm pretty sure they think it's the grossest thing ever, being a mother, and why the hell did i bring it to the university?, the wonder. they would be right, it is the grossest thing ever. i mean, even if you make it past the birth, which was pretty gross, if you ask me. the beautiful part came a month or so later when i felt more like a person again and the baby beside me was so clearly mine and so clearly a part of me. but motherhood in general is gross. i stood there talking about 2nd wave feminism and drawing timelines on the board with no clue that there was baby throw up all down my arm. it's good for them, i think. on thursday 2 women are coming to tell their birth stories. instead of focusing on abortion during the reproductive justice section i focus on maternal care in america. i'm sick of talking about abortion.

i laid in bed for a long time and listened to flannery in the hammock beside my bed, snoring and farting at the same time. the sweetest bearded man was beside me sound asleep. oh my, my life is so different than i imagined.

there's that john lennon quote, life is what happens to you when you're making other plans.

it's true, and i make a lot of plans. i loooooove to make plans. i love to imagine something new and more exciting. and what's newer and more exciting than Flannery? she's the best thing yet.

my newest plan is to apply for a residency at a certain place that may or may not be in the north (but the confederate South, technically). i don't want to jinx it. if i got it we'd go stay with his family during it and consider a trial year in that unwritten city. if i survive the winter, we'd consider more of a life there.

things can change. and the residency depends entirely on, well, getting in, and flannery.

i want to tell flannery when she's older: you can be anything you want.

but the truth it, what you want changes, and you have to adjust to that. the moment she has a baby, she will be giving up so much, so much besides sleep and clean shirts and from that moment on she might want to give up on her past plans and spend all of her time with her new baby. the truth it, i had no idea that this kind of love existed. it really is the "i would jump in front of a train for her" kind of love. i understand why people don't have kids. they want to go out, they want to be free to live their life as they wish, but now that i have flannery, i feel sorry for them in a way. they will never know how deep love can be. these words don't do it justice. sappy, but so true.

on to grading reading responses before my snoring, farting, simply amazing baby wakes up.

2010-06-04T05:18:00.000-07:00

i have a pasty-ivory baby with signs of being a ginger. red heads have more fun anyway. or is that blondes? either way, she has hope of being more fun than her mother.
.
.
.
in more exciting news:!!!

she can roll over! she can roll over! what a genius baby i have!
.
.
.
.
.
oh dear,
please help me.
this cannot become a mommy blog.
my uber smart and disciplined husband's blog makes my life look trivial, and not intellectually stimulating.
.
.
.
.
but why try and pretend to be so much cooler than i am?
whatever, i'm a mother.
i wear ill-fitting clothes and hardly every style my hair.
i daydream about test driving minivans. i.am.not.ashamed.
.
.
.
.
i start teaching Women's Studies at UA next month. Flannery will have to go to class with me. the kid will not take a bottle. She looks at me like i'm a huge disappointment before she screams until she has the real thing. "ok class, today we're going to talk about a woman's right to breastfeed wherever she is" (j/k i'll feed her before class and most likely leave her with a friend).

2010-05-20T09:18:00.000-07:00

I am exhausted. Understatement. Flannery is huge. 2 feet long now. 97% for height, 50% for weight. Opposite of her parents, it looks like she will be tall and skinny.

I can’t help but feel like I have thrown the last four years away. I am $22,000 in debt from my undergrad+grad degrees. Even though I’m teaching Women’s Studies this summer at UA, not much else is coming from these degrees. I want to make something. I want so badly to take a piece of wood, and carve into it a saint, and print it on the 1700lb press in my basement. I want to make paper. I want to do a residency someplace. I want so badly to talk to someone, anyone, about printing. What they’re printing, what I hope to print, books I hope to make…

Not in the cards. I had a kid and she is demanding. Right now, if I am able to put her down for long enough to do the laundry I feel like a new woman. This blogging bit that I’m doing right now, outrageous. I’ll probably feel guilty for the wasted 10 minutes when I realize I could have put up all the dishes in that time.

She has really bad reflux. Bad enough to land us in Children’s hospital after a bout of throwing up bile. She is allergic to dairy, egg, and soy. This means that I had to cut it all out of my diet in order to keep it from getting to her. So far it’s not so bad, and she is worlds better so it’s worth the sacrifice.

Motherhood lends itself to depression. It’s like being in the movie Groundhog Day. Every day is the same. Every day I’m holding her, being a human pacifier, and missing the studio, missing travel, missing taking a shower without hearing my screaming baby in the background as M walks around the house trying to get her to calm down sans boob.

Welcome to the American Dream. Only a minivan and 1.2 kids left to go.

Baby Dunkin: or the Servant of God Anna is Baptized

2010-05-12T05:53:00.000-07:00

Flannery was baptized as Anna on Saturday afternoon at St. Symeon’s (where we now attend). The day was hectic. The whole weekend was hectic. People in town and I planned a party for Saturday night (that went swimmingly). The parents don’t do anything during an Orthodox baptism. It’s all up to the godparents and the priests. I stood there as she cried throughout the whole service. She was a lot madder before the baptism than she was afterwards.
She took her first communion on Mother’s Day, and her godfather’s birthday. We all (godparents and Matthew’s parents) went to my parent’s house for lunch. They had a “country boil” which I had never heard of and was not excited about. Debbie Downer that I am, it was more fun than I thought it would be. After E and R left, the rest of us went to our house and the kids played in our amazing backyard (we really do have a great backyard for kids). It was nice. Really nice.
My first mother’s day. Eh. It wasn’t really mother’s day, you know? It was Flannery’s first communion day and try not to stress out at family dinner day. But hanging out with my SIL and watching the kids play in the backyard was great.

2010-05-01T05:38:00.000-07:00

still so happy to be her mother. in a way i'm honored to be her mother. it might be a drag some days, but i'm the one that gets to hold her. i'm the one who comforts her. i'm the heartbeat she recognizes.

but starting to feel detached. my friends still have exciting lives. this isn't the kind of occupation where you're given accolades or a paycheck. when you're a mom, nobody says, "hey, way to change all those diapers! way to feed your baby for 7-8 hours today! we're giving you a raise!" nobody asks questions, because it's not interesting. you don't feel accomplished for getting her through the day alive. i feel guilty if the house is a mess (and it is). i feel guilty if i never get dressed (and i rarely do). you don't get paid, so you feel guilty if you buy anything on the man's tab. i feel guilty for driving his car all over, living in his house, and leeching off his finances. (of course, i realize he doesn't see me this way, but still).

however, i can't imagine leaving her this summer so i can teach at UA for a few hours a day. i'll do it, and it'll be good for us both, but i've become so attached to her. i miss her if i drop her off at the gym daycare for an hour. i miss her if we go on a long drive. i miss her if she sleeps for too long. it is obscene how much you can love another human being. you hear women talk about it, but you don't believe them. it's kind of like how they lie about childbirth and breastfeeding. nobody tells you how horrible it is (ok, so they tell you that childbirth is painful, you get that, there's more to it that any childbirth video will show. anyway). they're not lying about the love, though. the love is intense and immensely satisfying.

i'll get the press set up. i'll get a makeshift papermill going. i'll print with little ones running around. it'll get easier as they get older (yes, i said "they" as though there will be more. we'll see).

2010-04-23T04:31:00.000-07:00

she is sleeping on my chest with hands around both sides of my neck.

she is snoring softly.

i can honestly say that i have never been this happy in my life.

Feeding Flannery

2010-04-08T06:40:00.000-07:00

If I seem distant, or haven't been around, it's because my entire life is taken up with feeding Flannery. It turns out that feeding a human being with your body is a lot less intuitive than it would seem. She hasn't gained as much weight as the doctors would want, but she's nearing back to her 9lb birthweight. We go to the hospital to be weighed again today. I'm stressed out about it. I know they'll say she's not as many ounces more as she should be. For now, she's happily asleep in her swing.

She'll be 4 weeks next week. I'm looking forward to working out and starting to look halfway normal again. I'm sick of wearing the same pants every day and horribly unflattering photos. Good thing Flannery doesn't care. Not as long as I feed her, anyway.

Have you ever seen such perfect feet?
She is her father's daughter. Put a beard on that face and you've got Matt Reed.
Angry baby in a big ole cloth diaper.

Happy Birthday Flannery O'Connor!

2010-03-25T10:16:00.001-07:00

Amy Elizabeth begat Flannery Annette

2010-03-17T06:17:00.000-07:00

she's here.

after 28 hours of labor, Flannery was born on March 16th at 6am. She weighs 9lbs, 3oz (I totally didn't believe them when they said she was over 9lbs...) and is 20.5 inches long.

I realize that I'm biased, but I really do think she's the most beautiful newborn yet. I'll write more when I'm home and not doing important things like trying to catch up sleep (I've pretty much been awake since 2am on Monday morning when my water broke) and learn to how to feed my baby with my body.

2010-03-11T09:08:00.000-08:00

Feel the need to lock myself away from the world. Have my baby in the closet or something and come out when we're ready to face folks.

I'm worried about a lot. I'm worried about too many people and not enough bonding (at first, I mean). A hospital waiting room full of people makes me nervous. At the same time, I don't want to be alone and I want to share the time with my friends/family. I'm worried about not enough people to help and getting overwhelmed. I'm worried about getting sad, because in general I'm already sad and I hear babies can make it worse. I'm worried that she'll take after me in all the wrong ways. I worry that my worry makes its way to her and she'll be melancholy. Cute little babies don't need that.

Anyway. Folks about to drive me insane.

W, the librarian (a dude), who I used to see in the elevator everyday, texted me to ask if I was dilated. Really? If you didn't participate in the creation of this baby, and don't have anything to do with her exit, you don't get to ask about my cervix. I can see a new mom asking. Or one of my lady BFF's, but my male librarian acquaintance? People lose their social grace around pregnant people. Think before you speak, people.

I feel like it's soon. Not only because we're running out of time, but I just feel it. She's going to be here in a few days. God willing, by tomorrow. It would be great if she was born tomorrow because then we'd get discharged on Sunday and M would have Monday and Tuesday off. Sigh... no more rambling for now.

Sunday ramblings.

2010-03-07T06:24:00.000-08:00

I get about a hundred texts a day asking if I’ve had the baby yet. As though I’m going to keep it a secret when she’s born. But no,

she is still on the inside. I totally knew with her late night habits that she’d be a late comer. She’s just chill like that, enjoying her heated swimming pool of amniotic fluid. Sometimes my body seems to be taunting me. Oooooh four contractions ten minutes apart, and then… nothing. She is now so low that I can’t put my legs together. Kind of like having a watermelon on your lap. I pee every hour. This makes for fun nights.

Bri said to think of all the women who would kill to be in my position. And she’s right. I realize that there have been millions of women who have wanted to conceive but haven’t been able to. Look at the Bible and what childlessness did to those women. They are apart of our Tent, so to speak and shouldn’t be ignored or forgotten. I am blessed to be able to have this baby, and maybe other babies if I'm crazy enough for that.

Should I go to Liturgy today? I wear yoga pants all the time these days. It takes something like 10 minutes to get into my tights, to get into my skirt, and to squeeze on my favorite pair of boots (that I got at the thrift store a couple of years ago. They were too big until a month ago. I guess that’s the silver lining on having obese feet). And then there’s all that standing. And the old women talking to me. And the comments from everyone. "When is your baby due?" oh, last Friday... At least when they say I'm huge this time I can just say, "I know! Right?"

I’m one who likes to remain anonymous in public. If I could have an invisible belly, I would. It’s not that I don’t appreciate everyone’s excitement over procreation, or concern for my well-being, it’s just that I don’t like anything that causes people that I barely know to talk to me.

Well, I can suck it up for the man if he wants me to. And perhaps for my own spiritual well-being.

Maybe my next post will involve a fresh-from-the-oven baby girl…

2010-03-04T18:52:00.000-08:00

It's weird that everyone's lives are going on as normal and I'm waiting on my daughter to be born.

Seems so monumental that everyone else should put their lives on hold for the most beautiful baby yet to enter the world.

film, finally developed 2008-2009: boots+annie's wedding and our honeymoon

2010-03-01T06:43:00.000-08:00

seth and sarah.
annie and sarah. both amazing book artists. i miss seeing them every day in the studio.
boots+annie+sarah.
back of E's head and boots and annie. E and i set them up on my 23rd b'day. they are two of the nicest people i've ever met.

R and E. Flannery's amazing godparents.
the man in Seattle.
me in Vancouver. it stormed like mad the day we drove up.
M. at the Seattle Art Museum. or one of them, anyway.
M's friend Roland came to visit. he was driving from Alaska (where he had been working/living) to PA.

only days to go (God willing): she's pretty much the luckiest girl around.

2010-03-01T05:40:00.000-08:00

packed and ready to go.
her Kanoe Hammock beside our bed. Where she'll sleep for as long as her nights depend on my body.
namesake.
crib=thrift, rocking chair=M's mama, peacocks=my mama and SIL
I bought those curtains before I was pregnant. I knew the first baby would be a Flannery.
messyish cloth diaper area. Chicken print from Mule Day in Gordo, 2009 by Kathy Fetters. pulp painting on the door by me.
alphabet cards M's mama got us at this amazing no-battery toy store in Frederick.

Flannery needs this

2010-02-26T07:50:00.001-08:00

(click on the picture to go to the etsy site).

ooooooh snap.

2010-02-19T19:44:00.000-08:00

now both of the women in know who were due the same week as me have delivered. first baby for both of them. so much for being late... as much as i want my turn to be a mama, i'm terrified. i can't lie.

full moon=baby?

2010-02-19T07:08:00.000-08:00

packing for the hospital hoping it will encourage Flannery to make her debut.

full moon on the 28th.

M's guess date has been March 1 all along so i'm hoping that the feminine divine in nature will do her work and gravitational pull and all that. my guess date was the 9th, but i recently changed it to the 8th (international women's day and all). it is easy to tell who is the pessimist in this family. i'm assuming that she's going to take as long as possible to exit.

i have two friends due the same week as me. one had her baby last night. that's a lot of pressure. come on, Flannery! you're not gonna let everybody else beat you into the world! are you? are you???...

probably.

valentine's schmalentines.

2010-02-14T13:45:00.000-08:00

why hello, 4am, so nice to see you again.

2010-02-12T02:09:00.001-08:00

ok. so it's not supposed to snow until after 5am, which isn't for another hour. i was about to have to call James Spann out on his lies. the man who sleeps had better see some snow when he wakes up. i, however, am pretty satisfied with out stint in the south after seeing photos from his homeland. nooooooo thank you.

just to say.

2010-02-10T17:18:00.001-08:00

yeah yeah yeah, it's not so bad.

i have a new friend. and what's better, is that her husband is a lot like m, so he has a new friend too.

and what's better better is that they're having a baby girl a month after us. i love knowing that i already have a friend lined up for flannery.

2010-02-10T14:05:00.001-08:00

i am so incredibly tired. a new mom at our birth group said last week to get all the sleep we can. i burst into tears in the car. i have no doubt being a new mom will be hard, but i literally cannot sleep, and it's been weeks and i can't remember the last time i slept for more than three hours at a time. i tell myself, "this is God getting me ready to feed the baby all night long" and perhaps it is. or perhaps she's just a night person, which she can't help, you know. so we watch john stewart on hulu and drink tea and mostly waste time. i need to be more productive with my night wanderings.

today was my 37 week appointment. it was so hot in there i thought i'd puke or pass out or something unpleasant. the nurse says to undress and sit naked with a thin paper sheet barely covering anything while i wait for 20 minutes for a doctor. i'm convinced that the medical field hates women. what the hell is with making us sit naked on a paper covered table with hardly anything to cover us? don't we pay them enough to give us something decent to cover ourselves with, or enough to wash sheets so we can sit on cloth and not tissue paper? and when you are this pregnant all decency and modesty is lost anyway, and women you barely know start asking about your cervix, so you may as well be huge and naked and sitting on paper ready to pass out.

the visit was ok. m. doesn't go with me because he'd have to take off work for those hours and we really don't see the point in him going unless something's wrong. today i felt like a single mom, though, with all the other hugely pregnant women and their partners hanging out in the waiting room. but really, i'm saving him the trouble of seeing how invasive women's healthcare is. he'll have to wait until i'm shoving our kid out to see something exciting. they got my urine mixed up with some other lady's and told me that i was spilling protein. "crap!" i thought. but then the doc was like, "but you have amazing blood pressure, so that doesn't make sense," so he left to figure it out. the other lady must have been excited that her urine finally came up clean, only to discover that it was mine. they did a test, one they told me about and i expected it, and then the doc did something i did not expect and that i was not ok with, and he had to stand up to feel the baby's head (from the inside) but in the end he was able to feel the baby's head and tell me that i'm "thinning nicely" and that she's way down low and must be ready to go. but then he retracted and said, "really, you could stay like this for weeks." which i already knew, which is why i was going to refuse to be checked to begin with, had i had that option. btw ladies, it's totally ok to refuse to be checked. there's no need for them digging around in there to tell you that you are or you aren't dilated when you can walk around in any given state for weeks. not until you're in labor anyway. and now i'm all crampy and sore and pissed off. and am so having a homebirth next go round.

here's my advice: thank God everyday that you were born male. and the rest of you, warn a sister next time.

2010-02-10T02:47:00.001-08:00

dear Flannery,
you already have my heart. no need to make it burn all night long. the both of us would do better if i could sleep.
love,
the loud heartbeat that you hear

2010-02-09T12:14:00.000-08:00

call me a snob, but i am somewhat bothered by intellectual yankees who name their kids Atticus or Flannery or any other name that's associated with southern writing. these same people think they understand racial tension in the south just because they wrote their dissertation on the literature of the civil rights movement. that's real nice, but you're still a yankee. i'm being territorial, i realize, but your kid ain't gonna have the wise blood just cos you named em after Flannery. mine might by 1/2 yankee but she'll at least have pet chickens and grow up with an acute understanding of what it is to have her soul tied to the soil she was born on.

that's all i have to say about that. besides that i'm glad to be done with graduate school.

so bizarre.

2010-02-07T14:48:00.000-08:00

Sexting: It's not just for kids.

3am ritual.

2010-02-05T01:56:00.000-08:00

A bowl of cereal and catching up on blogs.

Everything aches all over and she is doing a dance. Yes, these days, she is all I think about. I sit in her room and rearrange her books. And read them. And dream about reading them to her, even though I kind of am now.

I still love it when she gets the hiccups. It's funny. To her, it's probably annoying. My husband never has any idea that I spend half the night up and moving about the house, cooking things to freeze so I don't have to cook postpartum, which will be during Lent. So, no celebratory cake for you, my friend. Which is good. I'm massive and by no means need cake. What I do need is cake batter icecream, but I seriously haven't gotten any because I don't want to waddle into Coldstone looking like a stereotypical pregnant lady, and get asked if I'm having twins, and I'd have to say, "no, I just like icecream." M offered to go get me some, but so far I've declined.

I think she must have fallen, because my rounded bellow now hangs low, like an old man's beer belly. All I need is a tight pair of Wranglers to wear belted under my belly.

my feet are so swollen that it feels like i'm walking on water balloons.

2010-02-04T06:16:00.001-08:00

that's all. nothing good to say. i'm just a bowl of complaints.

still feels like a sham, but BAM!

2010-02-03T06:47:00.000-08:00

12:45am: full of nightmares and heartburn

2010-02-02T22:45:00.000-08:00

the man sleeps soundly. he stays up way past me with a stack of books and says some prayers. sometimes i catch his shadow on the wall when he does the sign of the cross. moments ago his arm came around me and i said, "i think i'm just going to get up" thinking he was awake, then hearing his patterned sleep.

i am so thankful for this baby, but dear Lord i need some sleep. i'm so anxious. i know, weird for me, right? so, i realize that i'm super paranoid as it is, but i do NOT WANT TO HAVE THIS BABY AT THE HOSPITAL. i just don't. but i'm going to. it feels so out of my control and i hate it. i hate all the intervention possibilities. i hate not knowing the people that will be there. i hate not knowing if my very supportive dr will be on call. it's a drag.

but it's not why i'm not asleep. i'm just not asleep b/c little Flannery likes the nighttime. or at least, my body is refusing to sleep. it keeps me up with either back pain or heartburn. tonight it has chosen the latter.

so, i'm going to do something productive for now.

2010-01-30T18:14:00.000-08:00

My best revenge against all the dishonesty and hatred in the world, it seems to me, will be to raise right up through the middle of it these honest and loving children. - Barbara Kingsolver

i hardly believe that we do this to ourselves. over and over again for some. i settle my swollen body into a bath at least once a day and read out loud to the bubbling baby inside of me, jabbing my ribs, or poking up, appendages making their presence known. with everything sore and deep red scars already across my entire mid-section. it is as though we are in a battle. no, i have not been attacked by a tiger, i have a human being trying to fit herself into my body, trying to get comfortable, trying to learn to breathe (she gets the hiccups a few times a day now).

i know i know i know, i will never be the same. i will never look the same and my entire identity is changing. perpetual student-sometimes world traveler-artist?-wife-mother. i will be remembered most through my children. maybe some of my prints will end up somewhere, or at least appreciated, by someone, even if they're not a classy art critic. they're the worst, anyway. i hope mostly that Flannery grows up in this mess of a world to be a compassionate, intelligent, strong, woman.

well, i'm heading to the city to have dinner with Bri and go to see Birth. i'm such a nice wife, i'm not even making m. go see it. he's having a beer with a buddy and we're all catching up later... a promising saturday night.

2010-01-15T05:36:00.001-08:00

Faith is what someone knows to be true, whether they believe it or not.
-Flannery O'Connor

I am not riding a motorcycle across the Great Wall of China, but this is the adventure that I am on right now.

2010-01-14T11:00:00.001-08:00

The disaster in Haiti is so overwhelming. All that there is to do is pray, and send a little bit to the Red Cross, that kind of thing. Can you imagine? Tens of thousands. Humans are only so cruel. Nature is the beast we don't see coming. The one we can't blame, or declare war on.

Anyway. The title of this post is something my friend Anna said when she was pregnant with her firstborn to a lady at Starbucks who questioned her having a baby so young, and didn't she want to travel first? I thought her response was brilliant.

50 days until my due date. But this is my first, and she'll probably be late by a few days at least. It's all a guess. I think the medical community hates how natural and unpredictable childbirth is, so they try to cram us into specific dates, dilating by certain times (or else... the knife!). I'm terrified my body won't conform and the dr won't support my choices. To wait. Birth, without all the intervention (yes yes unless medically necessary, c-sections save lives, etc. etc.) is, and should be a beautiful mess. Just like getting pregnant in the first place. A painful beautiful mess, but you know what I mean. I hope.

We go to these natural childbirth classes in B'ham. There are four couples in the class. I was worried we wouldn't fit in, but the great thing is that all of us are so different, that none of us fit in. We're bound by the same desire, a healthy and natural birth. I am finally excited about her coming. I mean, I've been excited, but always nervous, too. Now I'm just excited.

For some reason, people have felt it necessary to post pictures of me on fb looking severely obese and not pregnant in the least with my mouth open mid-sentence, that kind of thing. I told Mandii E that I just wanted one good pic while pregnant. So, being over the top and all she calls our hair stylist friend who's needed some photos of hair she's done. So I got my hair done for virtually free, and Mandii took those magical photos that I doubt are even me, except I saw them pre-photoshop and they are for sure. She's just a genius at using light.

I recently caught up with a lady that I met while working at Big Mtn. She didn't work there at the time, but works there now, and I find myself spending a lot of time there, not thinking at all about the years I spent there. I might work there some nights/weekends after Flannery's here. It's odd catching up with anyone from then. It's not like anyone has their shit together when they're 19/20/21, but I am especially ashamed of what an idiot I was. It's harder, because I still live here and catch glimpses of mistakes. Mostly it was reactionary. Too much trauma I wasn't ready to take. But this is beside the point: she's great. And I'm glad to have her back in my life. She met a nice man while working there, and they're getting married in two Saturdays. Somehow I was invited even though they only invited a handful of people. They're having an incredibly small ceremony. I secretly hope she has a baby soon, so our kids can be friends and we can take them on adventures together. I guess not so secretly.

For some, a baby is an end. Against my very nature I am being optimistic.

this is not metaphorical.

2010-01-11T14:41:00.001-08:00

my jewelry box is filled with dead things. it is my birthday, and not a single necklace to wear.

2010-01-09T06:23:00.001-08:00

they say that she sleeps 90-95% of the time now, and that sometimes when she moves it is in her sleep. they say that she sleeps deep, and has dreams. how did they figure that out? what does she dream about? i imagine her going over conversations i've had. or the plot to Pride and Prejudice, or The Recognitions (though we've also just begun reading Anna Karenina). maybe her dreams are the light that she sees through my skin, through my striped shirt, her father's voice, the music that i listen to. Devendra and Vivaldi.

i cannot sleep. i wake up so many times a night. eat cereal. watch The Daily Show on Hulu. watch my belly go up and down and watch her poke up with elbows and knees. there's a way that i can move my stomach and see her tiny bottom poking up. she is already head down.

spending the day with M. so, goodbye.

2010-01-02T10:24:00.000-08:00

i feel like she is trying to escape through my ribcage. it is not enjoyable. my ribs ache. my belly aches. my lower back aches. nearly every night there is a point that i feel as though there is a volcano in my belly (which is now severely close to my esophagus) and that i will vomit lava at any moment. and there are 6-10 weeks left. my poor husband. i'm trying to be cool about it though. we've been out all day. we cleaned the entire house yesterday. i'm not just laying around, at least not yet. i can't! i think they call this "nesting" but i really do have an incredible desire to get the house in order. it's insane. we've been here a year and i haven't really cared all that much about the state of things, but now i need to make sure everything has a place.

i've written a long blogish thing about being a woman and being orthodox, but i can't decide whether or not to actually post it. not because it would be too vulnerable or anything, but because i'm not intelligent enough to be making any kinds of proclamations on the Faith.

i think i'm going to facebook message people that i care about and ask for their contact information. i'm known for using the US Postal Service, so instead of mindlessly keeping in touch with people through facebook, i'd rather write them letters, or send them postcards, even though i know they won't write back. but that's not the point. i can't support the kind of voyeurism and social sadness that i see on the site. the wasted time. the false sense of community.

but, like eating meat has been for the past two weeks i've been with family, i might not actually follow through with it. i'm better at planning, of dreaming of being a better person, than i am of acting it out.

hmmm... perfect for New Year's Resolutions?!

To be continued...

2009-12-29T14:49:00.001-08:00

Freakonomics predicts that Flannery will be one of the most popular girl names in 2015. It was #10 on their list of names given by "highly-educated" parents. At least she's five years ahead of the game.

2009-12-22T14:04:00.000-08:00

well, i can't print. might as well get my nails did.

on animal eating.

2009-12-18T04:52:00.000-08:00

My iron is incredibly low, so now I have to take an iron pill on top of taking the prenatal that already has a ton of iron in it. This is likely due to the lack of animal in my diet, one assumes. However, since being pregnant, and possibly a little before, I slacked on the whole vegetarian thing and have eaten meat at random occasions. Out of laziness, mostly. I come from a meat-eating family. We're Southern, there's fatback in everything, or beef in the stew, or beef in the sauce. Somewhere, there's an animal. My convictions on eating animals haven't changed. I still believe, strongly, that being a vegetarian is the more compassionate way of living.

Being Orthodox means being vegan for at least half the year, if you follow all of the fasts and the normal twice a week fasting days that exclude any animal products, wine, and oil (primarily olive oil). Some fasting days fall on feast days, when you're allowed fish, oil, and wine. But otherwise, those are out.

And now I'm carrying a baby girl. In the 90s, when girls started maturing at incredibly young ages (I had several friends in Elementary school who were already menstruating), people began to blame the hormones found in animals and milk. Mostly milk, though. Since then, researchers claim that the link isn't as strong as we thought it was. They try to justify their shoving animals full of synthetic hormones by saying that it doesn't affect girls, that the girls are maturing early due to the rise in obesity. I think it probably has to do with a lot of things. But why not cut out non-organic dairy products just to be safe? I already have. Well, at home anyway, that icecream from the Dairy Queen last night hardly counts.

Then there are disturbing articles like this one.

Not eating meat. It's a good idea. One that I'll go back to. It's not that hard to use TVP instead of ground beef in your soup or sauce. For one thing, it's cheaper, and has less cholesterol. Having self control is also a good thing. Just because I'm craving a ham biscuit slathered in mustard doesn't mean that I should eat one. Flannery is probably better off with my having as little pork in my diet as possible, anyway.

How will I deal with meat with my kids? Hmmmm..... we don't cook meat at the house anyway, so I can keep that up. Or, if we know we're going over to the family's for dinner or something I can offer to bring the meat, stop by Whole Foods and get grain raised beef, or chicken. Or find a local farmer who ethically kills their animals. Meat from animals that weren't raised in disgusting slaughter houses. Meat this way costs more, yes, but we need to be willing to pay more for our food if it means healthier lives, healthier communities (by supporting local), and healthier children.

Just thinking. Becuase I feel guilty about that beef enchilada I ate three days ago. Oh man was it good though...

2009-12-06T04:56:00.000-08:00

Don't go to graduate school (at least in the humanities anyway, types the girl with two graduate degrees in the humanities...)