Friday, October 28, 2011

Ever Evolving Me

Welcome to the I Love Me! Carnival!

This post was written for inclusion in the I Love Me! Carnival hosted by Amy at Anktangle. This carnival is all about love of self, challenging you to lift yourself up, just for being you.

Please read to the bottom to find a list of submissions from the other carnival participants.

Dear Delilah,

In the 30-plus years I've enjoyed of this life, I have changed a lot. The most rapid and significant of those changes have taken place over the last ten years. The pace at which I have grown and changed this last decade has been uncomfortable for some people. Even your father, who embraces growth and change as much as I do, sometimes has a hard time keeping up.

Someone who is no longer a part of my life was the first to make me question this trait of mine. He told me that he didn't like how much I'd changed in the years that he'd known me. I was 26 at the time. I was bewildered by his statement. Of course I'd changed. I was 20 years old when he'd met me, just barely an adult, with hardly a clue of who I really was or what really mattered to me. I mean, I thought I knew exactly who I was and what mattered to me, but what I came to find out is that the more I learned, and the more experiences I immersed myself in, the better I got to know myself. And yes, sometimes this resulted in what may have seemed like drastic changes, but those changes felt natural to me. After all, if what I learned about the food industry and the way it treats animals didn't cause me to change my eating habits, then what was the point of learning about it? I'm not the type who can learn new information, discover that I have a strong feelings about it, and then fail to make changes to my life when there are aspects of it that directly conflict with those feelings.

Around that same time in my life, I was discussing this with a friend who said to me:

"You just move fast is all. Or maybe not fast, but you seem to always want to feel like you're moving somewhere."  
He was absolutely right. I'm not content to rest on my laurels. I am constantly learning, growing, and changing. I started to question whether that was an undesirable trait in a person, whether it was personal flaw that I should work at overcoming. What I found is that I simply can't help it. I can't help but to incorporate new experiences and information into who I am, and who I will be going forward. Sure, it means that I change hobbies as often as some people change underwear (as evidenced by the baskets and bins of various craft hobbies, the array of musical instruments, and the vast array of books in our home). It means that I sometimes make what look like hasty decisions, like quitting my well-paying, full-time, full-benefits job to go back to school. It means that sometimes your father is left scratching head, wondering where the bleach went, because I forgot to tell him that we're cleaning with vinegar and baking soda now. It means that I will change how I eat, how I live, and even how I raise you, as I learn more and as my values evolve.

I am constantly evolving. I value not only learning, but acting on what I learn. I'm glad I'm not the same person at 32 that I was at 22, and I hope that I'm not the same person at 42 that I am today. I change. A lot. I always want to feel like I'm moving somewhere. Toward something. Toward the me that I meant to be. The me that I love.

Love,

Mama


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Thank you for reading this post from the I Love Me! Carnival. Please take some time to read the contributions from the other carnival participants:

(This list will be updated by the afternoon of October 28th with all the carnival links.)




  • The Art of Being Thoughtful – Becky at Old New Legacy likes that she is mostly thoughtful but wants to become more thoughtful. She shares a story that demonstrates that giving gifts doesn't have to be expensive.
  • I love me (and running)! – Sheryl of Little Snowflakes writes about her new love of running and how it has helped her learn to love herself!
  • For the Love of Moe – Valerie at Momma in Progress shares her thoughts on a body forever changed, but forever loved.
  • Where I Find My Worth – Sarah at Parenting God's Children shares how finding her worth in worldly things always falls short.
  • Oh Yeah, I'm Cool – Tree at Mom Grooves shares her very favorite gift and the thing she most wants to pass on to her daughter.
  • Loving – Rosemary at Rosmarinus Officinalis talks about some of the things she loves about herself - some easily, and some by choice for the sake of healing.
  • caught in a landslide – jaqbuncad of wakey wakey, eggs and bakey! shares a list of reasons why zie loves hir body.
  • I Love Me! - A Rampage of Appreciation! – Terri at Child of the Nature Isle stops waiting for anyone else to tell her she is wonderful and goes on a rampage of appreciation for herself!
  • Raising Healthy Daughters – In a guest post at Natural Parents Network, Kate Wicker offers tips to pass on a healthy self-image to the young ladies in our care.
  • Unexpected Benefits of a Healthy Pregnancy – How does it feel to have a healthy pregnancy? Dionna at Code Name: Mama discovers that making positive choices can be empowering.
  • Filling Up Our Watering Cans – Nada at miniMOMist believes that practicing Sabbath is the same as being a gardener who lovingly tends to the flowers in her garden. She needs to fill up her watering can first.
  • Better Body by Baby – Jess from Mama 'Roo and Family Too! shares how having her first baby makes her feel even more beautiful and confident about her body than ever before.
  • These Breasts Were Made for Nursing – Becoming a mother helped Mandy from Living Peacefully with Children to embrace her womanhood and improve her self image.
  • Yeah, I'm Pretty Cool – Amanda at Let's Take the Metro writes about her own self love and how she hopes to foster the same self-respect in her children.
  • Who I've Become – The future is bright with That Mama Gretchen who shares her past and present perspective on body image and how she hopes to become a change agent with her daughter.
  • Ever-Evolving Me – Joella at Fine and Fair writes to her daughter about her innate drive to continue learning, growing, and evolving.
  • I love you for your mind – Lauren at Hobo Mama turns a dubious phrase on its head with a little self-loving slam poetry.
  • Stop Think of Love with Your Body – Amy of Peace 4 Parents shares an exercise to gradually transition from hating to loving your body - stretch marks, sags, imperfections, and all.
  • I Love Me! – Jenny @ I'm a full-time mummy shares the things that she loves about herself!
  • First, I'm Superwoman. Later, I'm SupperwomanPatti @ Jazzy Mama explains how she loves taking care of her amazing body. It birthed 4 children, after all!
  • Baby Strikes A Pose – Emma from Your Fonder Heart writes about her family's decision not to let their 7 month old model, and uses the opportunity to think more deeply about girls (young and old) and how they determine their self-worth.
  • Love Your Tree – How do you picture the ways your body and mind change? Amy at Anktangle writes about how trees help her have perspective about her own growth over time.
  • Pumpkin Butt – Zoie at TouchstoneZ writes about how birth and pumpkins are the way to accepting her body
  • I do love me – Shannon at Pineapples & Artichokes talks about the lessons about loving herself she wants to pass along to her daughter.
  • Appreciating Who I Am – Linni at An Unschooling Adventure describes the things she likes about herself and the way she appreciates who she is as a person.
  • I love me! : A journey – Christine at African Babies Don't Cry shares her journey on arriving at the point where she can say: I love me!
  • My Daughter Doesn't Care So Why Should I? – Jennifer at Hybrid Rasta Mama calls herself on the carpet for the image of self love and beauty she portrays in front of her toddler.
  • Finding out who I am – Melissa at Vibrant Wanderings shares an exercise that helped her identify positive qualities she possesses, and how that has helped her learn to love herself.

Tuesday, October 25, 2011

Isn't That Sexist?

Dear Delilah,

Yesterday when your Grandmother (my mother) came over to spend the afternoon with you while I went to work, I told her about the play kitchen that your father and I are giving you for your upcoming birthday. (Side note: slow it down with the growing up, would ya?) I was taken aback when she asked "Isn't that sexist?"

It's no secret that I'm a feminist. I was recently talking to a friend about how becoming the mother of a daughter has made me "an even more hardcore feminist". She looked surprised, and we both had a laugh when she said she couldn't imagine me being a more hardcore feminist than I already was. We talked about the messages that women and girls are bombarded with all day, every day about what it means to be female. We talked about the very specific ways girls are marketed to. I can hardly sit and enjoy a 30 minute long TV program anymore, because I can't help but to point out all of the sexist remarks, sexualization and objectification of women, and misogyny; and that's just during the commercial breaks!

That said, when your grandma asked me that (valid, I realize) question, I was a little offended at first. How could she accuse me of such hypocrisy? The thing is, the nuances of sexism and feminism are complicated. It's a challenge to step out of the box of either-or thinking and work to get into the nitty-gritty. Either giving a girl a kitchen is sexist or it's not, right?

I say: Wrong. Giving a child a play kitchen is not, in and of itself, a sexist act. Giving a child a kitchen because the child has a vagina (alternately, denying a child a play kitchen because the child has a penis) is sexist. Giving children messages that kitchens and cooking are for girls only is sexist. Referring to a play kitchen as a "girl's toy" is sexist.

Our rationale for giving you a play kitchen is not "Well, she's a girl, she had better get used to cooking!" Rather, we feel it's important for children to be in touch with where their food comes from. As you grow, you will become more involved in helping both your mother and your father in the kitchen, not because you're a girl, but because one day, chances are you'll need to know how to prepare meals. Not for a man, but for yourself.

At the Farmer's Market
Ready to work in the garden!
We are very conscious of where our food comes from, and part of the process of getting food from the farm into our bellies is cooking it. This is why we not only include you in the kitchen, but we take you to the farmer's market to meet the people who grow the food we eat, and we include you as much as possible in our own garden. Apart from that, you have fun in the kitchen! You love taking food out of the cupboard, pouring, stirring, and playing with measuring cups and dishes. A play kitchen will allow you a safe space to be as creative with food as you like!

Grandma seemed doubtful when I said that we'd give a boy a play kitchen, just as we are giving you one. She said "No, you'd probably get him a play mechanic shop." When I was recounting the conversation with your father later, not only did he agree that we'd give a boy a kitchen, but in regards to the play mechanic shop, he (who is far more useful in the kitchen than under a hood himself) said "Do they make those? We should get one for Delilah!" Indeed, we should. Maybe then you could teach your father a thing or two about being car-savvy!

In the end, I know that your Grandma was neither trying to offend me nor accuse me of hypocrisy. She prompted me to think a bit more deeply about my feelings on giving you "girl toys". (Simply put, I don't view a kitchen as a "girl toy"!) Her question was valid. Just as valid as a feminist giving her daughter a play kitchen. Just don't beat it up too badly, it needs to withstand the test of time, just in case you have a brother some day!

Love,

Mama

***
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Monday, October 24, 2011

Play-Don't

Dear Delilah,

Last week, a long-time friend brought her twin boys over for a play date. Which is code for "Wow, we really need to catch up, let's hope our kids will entertain each other for a couple of hours so we can chat!"

Ahem.

Anyway, at one point, she asked if you like playing with play-dough. I think the color probably drained out of my face as it hit me that to my knowledge, you've never even seen play-dough. What kind of mother am I? Nearly two years old, and you've never beheld the joy of that squishy colorful dough? Obviously the next course of action, well, after we finished chatting about our jobs and our families and all sorts of other very grown up conversation topics, was to start googling home-made play-dough recipes.

I swear I remembered making play-dough at home as a child, and I know that many of the parents I'm acquainted with have made it, so I figured it was a simple thing. I figured wrong. Nearly every recipe called for an ingredient I didn't have on hand (cream of tarter) or that I'd never even heard of before (what on earth is alum?) so I began to get discouraged. Then, I found it! A recipe for play-dough that calls for used coffee grounds and a few other things I happened to have on hand!

The next day, I started saving the daily coffee grounds in a separate container (they usually go in with other compostable things). By the end of the week, I had enough to make play-dough! After drying the coffee grounds (spread out on a cookie sheet in a 170 degree oven for an hour or so, if you're as clueless as I was about how to dry coffee grounds), I got everything I needed together. I just guessed on the water, because the recipe simply states "warm water" but doesn't specify how much. Perhaps this should have been my first clue about the...adventure that lied ahead.


I mixed up the dry ingredients as instructed. I marveled at how pretty the mixture looked, and how nice it felt to run my hands through. If you hadn't been napping at the time, I would have let you play with the mixture a bit. It probably would have been the most significant sensory experience you'd have gotten out of the whole mess.


In addition to not mentioning just how much (or even approximately how much) water to use, the recipe also lacked any direction about when or how to add color. I had the bright idea to separate the mixture out into 4 smaller containers so I could add color at the same time I added water.


I set to work adding food coloring and water. Now, the recipe does specifically say "this kind of play-dough has a different kind of texture", so I was expecting something...I don't know, maybe grittier than regular store-bought play-dough. What resulted was the furthest thing from dough that I've ever seen.  think the chair I'm sitting on more closely resembles dough.



I was distraught. Not only was I disappointed that I wouldn't get to have the fun first play-dough experience with you I was looking forward to, but I'd wasted all of that cornmeal and salt. I'd taken all of these photos in anticipation of writing about how great the recipe turned out and how much fun we had with our play-dough. Before giving up, I figured I would try to save it. I got out the flour, and slowly started incorporating flour into each container. A few tablespoons, then a few more tablespoons. Eventually, I ended up with something relatively dough-like that looked like this:


Not even close to the photo on the recipe page, but I hoped it would at least be workable. The rest of that day was busy, so the next day, after your nap, I pulled out the play dough and formed a few small balls of it for you play with.


Even though it was a crumbly mess, you seemed to enjoy it, although you quickly lost interest and moved on to your chalk board. While you scribbled away, I started working with the dough, trying to warm it with my hands to make it more pliable, so I could make something, anything out of it.


And there you have it. Your first play-dough was a big ol' play-don't, but at least we got a smile out of it. Here's to many more kitchen experiments, hopefully with more success than this one!

Love,

Mama

P.S. Anyone have a good play-dough recipe, or know what alum is? ;)

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Thursday, October 20, 2011

Purposefully Purple

Dear Delilah,

October is LGBT History Month, and today, October 20, is Spirit Day, a day inspired by a teenager who wanted to speak out against the bullying that LGBT youth face, and that has played a role in too many suicides of LGBT youth. Along with millions of others, you and I are wearing purple today in recognition of spirit day.

Delilah and Mama at our local Pride Celebration-August 2011
Your father and I involve you as much as possible in our advocacy for LGBT rights and support of the LGBT community. By outward appearances, your father and I are a straight man and a straight woman in a heterosexual marriage. While it is true that we are in a heterosexual marriage, we consider both sexuality and gender to be very fluid, and recognize that most people fall somewhere along a spectrum of sexual orientation and gender identity. We do not see sexuality and gender as black and white, and we celebrate love, regardless of what it looks like.

Where exactly your father or I fall on those spectrums isn't relevant to the topic at hand. What is relevant is that less than a week ago, another gay teen commit suicide, unable to cope with the bullying he faced daily for being openly gay. Jamie Hubley had supportive parents and loving friends, but that is not enough. As a parent, it breaks my heart to know that no matter how much I love and support you, regardless of where you end up on the spectrum of sexuality or gender, you could still be so burdened by the bullying of others that you could see ending your life as a viable option to end the pain.

That is why I speak out. That is why I correct anyone I hear referring to something undesirable as "gay" or slinging around words like "faggot" or "dyke" as insults. That is why I take you to Pride celebrations. That is why I will always be open with you about sexuality and gender, so that regardless of your own orientation or identity, you will understand that there is no "right" orientation or identity. That is why I'm wearing purple today.

Love,

Mama

**If you are an LGBT teen in need of support, please contact The Trevor Project lifeline at 866-488-7386


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Tuesday, October 18, 2011

Mirror, Mirror, on the Wall...

Dear Delilah,

The month of October is a month of recognition for so many causes that I am passionate about. It is a month during which we celebrate and raise awareness about LGBT history and rights. It is Domestic Violence Awareness month. And as I recently discovered, this week is Fat Talk Free week, a movement intended to shift the focus off of women's bodies and celebrating inner beauty, character, and talents.

Like many women in our society, I have long been a slave to the mathematics of my body. I have evaluated and calculated how many calories I should be putting into it, how many minutes of exercise it should be doing, how many pounds it should weigh, what size clothing it should wear, and how many inches it should measure at various locations. Since your birth, I have worked toward a more qualitative than quantitative approach to my body image. That round belly carried my daughter. Those stretch marks are reminder of how my body grew and changed to accommodate you. My breasts made (and still do!) milk that nourished you. Still, I can't help but to poke at my softer spots with disdain, longing for a body that I never appreciated when I had it, because even then, it wasn't thin enough, my belly wasn't flat enough, and my thighs weren't smooth enough.

As a girl, you will be, and in some ways already are, bombarded with messages that how you look is one of the most important things about you, and that if you don't look a certain way, you won't be desirable as a person. You will be led to believe that the most important thing in life is landing a suitable husband, and that you will not succeed at this unless you look the way society deems attractive. These messages come from everywhere. They come from television shows and movies, they come from advertisements, they come from you seeing me make faces as I squish my belly, and they even come from well-meaning strangers who comment on how cute you are, rather than how friendly or strong or perceptive you are.

You and I recently had coffee with a friend of mine. Well, I had coffee, you stuck to scones. Sarah is my youngest friend, and is wise beyond her 19 years. She was telling me about her recent travels to the Michigan Womyn's Festival, and about the experience of seeing so many women of different shapes and sizes so comfortable with their bodies (among various other life-changing aspects of the festival). She noticed you examining your reflection in the mirrored wall, and said to you "Your beauty could never be reflected in a piece of a glass." Her comment has stayed with me, and it is the message I want you to remember about beauty.

Image Source

Beauty can not be counted in pounds or measured in inches. Beauty, like all gifts, comes in an array of wrappings. Your beauty is not found in your packaging, but in what lies beneath it. Your beauty lies in your twinkling eyes, in your inquisitive nature, in your easy adaptability, in your talent for music, in your love of animals, in your laughter, in your loving kindness toward others, and in the many, many facets of you that have yet to emerge. Your body is beautiful not because of how it looks or compares to societal expectations, but because bodies are miracles.

I took the pledge to end fat talk not just for me, but for you, and for all of the women in my life who are defined by and celebrated for so much more than their bodies. I will strive not for thinness, but for health.

When you look back on me as a mother, I don't want you to remember a woman who was constantly dieting and obsessively exercising because she wasn't satisfied with her outward appearance. I want you to remember growing up eating healthy nutritious food and living an active lifestyle because it is healthy, not because it makes you thin. I want you to remember a mother who was comfortable in her own skin, who instilled important values in you, who celebrated your many talents and strengths, who supported your individuality, and who encouraged you to explore who you are and what you stand for and keep your focus on those things. I want you to remember that your mother told you, every day, that you are beautiful, not because of how you look, but because of who you are.

I want you to remember the wise words that your mother's 19 year old friend spoke to you:

Your beauty could never be reflected in a piece of glass.

Love,

Mama


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Sunday, October 9, 2011

Hey There Delilah...

Dear Delilah,

While I've made it clear that I did not name you after that Delilah song, one of my nearest and dearest blogging friends posted an adorable video of her twin girls' rendition of it. It's almost enough to give me a change of heart, as far as my opinion of that little ditty. Almost. ;)

Love,

Mama

P.S. Hey there readers, if you aren't already reading Tales of an Unlikely Mother, you should be!



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Tuesday, October 4, 2011

Ein Prosit!

Dear Delilah,

The town we live in has a huge Oktoberfest celebration every year. It usually starts the last weekend in September and runs into the first weekend of October. By some estimates, our local Oktoberfest celebration is the biggest in the US! You have plenty of German heritage on both sides, but even if you didn't, this is one festival that nearly everyone in town celebrates in one way or another. This year was your second Oktoberfest experience, and the year between them (not to mention the location of our new home) made a world of difference in your enjoyment of the festivities.

Oktoberfest 2010-Delilah looks a little overwhelmed by all of the excitement!
On the first Saturday of Oktoberfest, there is a huge parade that practically shuts down half of the city. It's three hours long and is filled with marching bands, beautiful floats, costumes, music, dancers, various political and charitable causes, local businesses, and more. Last year, you weren't quite old enough to truly appreciate the parade and all of the sights and sounds that go along with it. You weren't walking yet, but did enjoy traveling snuggled up close to me in the Beco and watching some of the parade from atop your daddy's shoulders.


Our new home is within easy walking distance of the parade route, so this year, we set out on foot with you on my back to make our way towards the celebration. The walk there took us through several blocks of floats lined up, waiting to start the parade, and you had fun pointing out trucks, dogs, and various other things you were able to identify with your growing vocabulary.
Making our way to the parade-2011
Many local residents (and even out-of-towners) plan for months in advance where they will watch the parade from. The day before, tarps, blankets, chairs, and even huge flatbed trailers start lining the parade route while people stake out prime parade-watching real estate. We're a bit more casual about it, the extent of our "plan" was to walk the parade route, stopping here and there as we saw people we knew. We ran into some friends who found a great spot that had been abandoned, so we sat and watched the parade with them for a while before heading back towards home so you could rest your progressively heavier eyelids.


This year, you were enthralled with everything happening around you. You clapped your hands along with the music, watched in awe as people in extravagant costumes passed, and waved and said hi to people passing through the crowd. I was thankful that I convinced your father that the Beco was a better idea than a stroller, since maneuvering it through the crowd would have been a challenge, and it would have been something extra to keep track of while you were on your own two feet. I got lots of positive comments about it, ranging from "I love your baby backpack!" to "I need one of those!" to "Hey, can you carry ME in that thing?"

After your nap, we had some friends over to the house for an impromptu gathering. We grilled food, and the adults chatted and sipped drinks while you and the other kids ran around and played. After you went to bed, we enjoyed a fire in the backyard with the friends who remained.

But wait! There's more! That was not the end of our Oktoberfest fun for the year. There is another parade that takes place toward the end of the festival, one that our new location dictates we make a tradition! On Thursday night of Oktoberfest, the Torchlight Parade lights up the dark autumn sky. Our home is two blocks off the parade route, and we were surprised to discover that the parade lines up right in front of our house! I had to miss most of the fun, since I had class that evening, but you and your daddy had loads of fun.

Watching floats line up on our block!
While waiting for the parade to start, you and Daddy watched the floats lining up on our street. He tells me that you sat on our front step, yelling "Hi!" and blowing kisses to everyone going by. When the parade got going, he put you in the stroller and took the short walk to the parade route, letting you stay up a little past your bedtime to enjoy all of the action.


Even after he brought you back home and got you into your pajamas, he couldn't tear you away from the front window and all the excitement outside.


We are already looking forward to next year's Oktoberfest, and all of the fun with friends and family that comes along with it. Now that we know we're in prime location for a Torchlight parade party, we see a fun new tradition in our future!

Love,

Mama



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