natural parenting center

growing up...it's time.

I just took a peek through the archives to see what past Halloween posts were and found this. It's perfect to be asking myself that question, though I've been scanning these ones and finding more rocks that need to be turned over:

1. Is there an important truth I haven't been willing to tell?
2. Did I tell an untruth that hasn't been put right?
3. Is there something I need to say to someone else?
4. Is there something I haven't been willing to hear from someone else?
5. Have I been living in fear of the worst?
6. Have I been pretending to know more than I really know?
7. Is there something I should have done that I've left undone?
8. Having done all I can do, have I been unwilling to let go of the outcome?
9. Have I been waiting for someone or something else to rescue me?
10. Have I been hiding who I really am?

These come from The Fate Project. 

It seems that Fall is the time to look at this stuff. The glorious distraction and in-the-momentness of summer is long gone, the odor of leaf rot fills my nostrils along with the sting of grey cold. Looking at death, the shadow side, whatever I've been ignoring. It's time. Oh boy would I rather not. It sucks, to be honest, to take an unflinching inventory of oneself and one's actions.

Growing up. I see that there are many places where I am such a child, waiting to be rescued or fixed or told what to do. Pretending I don't know what I know. Integrity is the other word swirling around in my brain.  Where am I ignoring my own? Every little drop adds up and makes me feel icky inside. I end up grumpy and irritable and squirmy. 

I don't want to just get by this time of year. The tide of the earth is ebbing, and my cells want to follow that pull. Let me look at what needs to be looked at, take action where needed, and grow up just a little bit more if I can. May the gods and goddesses of the underworld give me some nudges, too.

 

 

 

the advanced nurser a.k.a. "why am i doing this?"

Oh breastfeeding. This is a picture my sister took when Elliott was a few days old. Newborn nursing with the breast looming larger than infant's head. What a trip.

Saschy is two and five months and she is nursing often. It is not comfortable. It would be easy to tell myself that this must mean it is time to wean, and yet, I resist. I've heard enough stories about nursing after two being strenuous, intense, and frequent that I'm beginning to wonder if there isn't something important happening here. I've not heard of any research about the critical value of nursing between two and three years old and older. Apparently only 19% of mothers continue breastfeeding after one year. This intrigues me. I'm beginning to formulate some of my own theories about why this is so, if not for the general public, at least for myself, to help sustain me and keep me in the tender, nurturing frame of mind rather than the what-the-hell-is-your-problem-get-off-me frame of mind one might be tempted to stumble into.

:: children over two years old have been deeply immersed in the differentiation stage ( where they are moving between strong attachment and tentative independence from their mother) long enough to realize how vital this mother connection is. they will nurse more frequently and with greater fervor to ensure the mother is committed to them and willing to love them without condition.

:: after learning to move freely away from the mother, the child of 2 and 3 years old needs to spend longer periods of time than one might expect resting and being still as only happens at the breast. Still able to observe what is happening around them, their biochemistry is able to find homeostasis, integrating the calm of the breast with the tempered input from the world outside. 

:: learning from an authentic mother who shares some of her discomfort and desires to stop nursing or change how nursing is done allows a child to understand that a relationship is a mutual endeavor. the child builds a foundation of understanding giving and receiving and also comes to appreciate the immense gift of love and connection she is being given by the mother willing to breastfeed.

:: meditation is a profoundly transformative tool which alters brain chemistry in positive ways. toddlers who nurse build the same neuropathways and open, loving perspectives as people who meditate consistently.

:: for the mother, breastfeeding beyond infancy offers many of the same benefits: periods of calm and stillness to foster meditative qualities; deepening of connection and relationship with her child; and the inner strength and resourcefulness that comes from choosing willingness, rather than willfulness, trust rather than control, and connection rather than accomplishment. 

ok. those are my made-up reasons in favor of long-term breastfeeding. i feel much better already.   

single parents

Tim has been away at ISSW conference connecting with people in the avalanche world. He came home after 11 days away feeling refreshed and jazzed about the coming season of snow. It's fun to see him like that. 

And it's fun to have another parent in the house. Someone else to read a story or brush teeth or do the things that only he does well...like wrestle and do the airplane thingy with food into the mouth fifty times as giggles spill everywhere.

Good grief. I send my heartiest and most humble bow out to all of you single parents doing it on your own day after day. And if you are managing to put your relationship with your children in the forefront of the gazillion other things that you need to do, well then. Let me offer you my profound appreciation.

As I looked for an image to include with this post, this organic post that has not been pre-thought one bit, I came across this...

Everything always lines up, doesn't it? Tonite as I lay in bed nursing Saschy to sleep (considering writing a post about nursing which we are doing an awful lot of these days-my nipples red and sore), I was feeling a bit wimpery because I wanted to doze off with them. I was feeling a little miffed that I was about to crawl out of that warm cocoon to come to the computer and do some work. How is it possible that after this long day (for even with another parent around there is still a whole lot of stuff to do) of working, that my work work begins at 9pm. The work I'm talking about here is not so much blogging, but more about doing the invoicing and stuff for Feeleez. 

Then, because this wasn't feeling so good, I took another look at it from a different perspective. I could be dropping these two loves off at daycare and school and going to work, then coming home and attempting to cook dinner while connecting with them, catching up on our days apart, making lunches for the next day, reading school newsletters, helping with homework, throwing in some laundry, answering the phone etc etc etc....

Which is what many many many people do. And maybe many of those people adore the rhythm of their days. When I looked at this, though, I realized anew how lucky I am. How much I am living the way I want to live. So I crawl up after snuggling them to sleep and get on the computer late at night. It's not every night, it's not for very long, it's not all day, it's with my kids in the room next to me, and I get to wake up again with them tomorrow and set out on new adventures, together.

So is what I do all day really work? What is work? Is it the money thing? Aren't there some tribal cultures that don't even have a word for work?  I like that. When I think about being a "working" mother as in tending this home and these children, the nature of the thing becomes more burdensome. In fact, I am a privileged mother, one who gets to choose. Sure we make choices to live simply on one income. But it is just that A CHOICE. 

That point of view makes all the difference. I am not a victim. 

lost and not found

the camera i use is gone.

crap. 

last known use...hiking down from mount sentinel, i KNOW i had it swinging from my wrist. playing inside the little shelter at the base of the hill while saschy girl collected berries and pears and pretended shopping while i stretched and high stepped between playing my shopper role. that was two weeks ago.

natalie sent a text today saying there was an ad in the paper to call and identify a lost camera. thrilling. i called but it wasn't the camera i use. darn. i am so sad without it. it's part of the steady trio of companion items-wallet, phone, and camera. and, i had just made a diligent commitment to myself to only post photos here of my own taking. shit.

and to think of even a day going by without taking photos of these rapidly transforming small humans puts me on the verge of a full blown panic attack. not only to capture and hold onto every possible ounce of this life of ours that whizzes past faster than i care to believe, but also because for me it's just like another mama says, camera is therapy.

so, maybe something even better is on the way...

such as dig this chick's camera

or soulemama's camera

who knows. in the meantime, i hope that the photos on it were sweet enough to convince the finder to return it to us.

 

 

fuck the middle road

 

it's so curious how something somebody says some time in my life has stuck with me and become the gold standard, without question. "you are too extreme", being one. it's true that i am an all or nothing kind of gal. i go full bore on one thing for a period of time then i'm over it and onto the next. inconsistent. passionate in short bursts. it can be annoying and tiresome to my steady and steadfast friends. i wonder if, while in my passionate burst enthusiastically spewing the merits of knitting, say, or kefir making, or ice climbing (as it was some time long ago) these friends are quietly rolling their eyes and sniggering under their breath (wonder how long this will last, they are saying in my fearful version of things). 

so as i work these days to distill each aspect of myself from the toxic slurry of judgement and plunk it into the still, clear waters of acceptance, i've been questioning the assumption that the middle road is right and my way is wrong. then i came upon this quote from David Garrigues blog.

 I don’t think enough people realize what kind of fire, grit and intensity it takes to crack the small self open and access the hidden treasure of fearless freedom within. There is always someone that will try to contain or cool things, to ‘mellow’ things or ‘balance’ them or bring them to the center where the middle ground is. I personally don’t want the middle ground. I don’t want reason or reasonable. Reasonable arrives and eventually looks and feels like Walmart, Capt Crunch, continuous streams of ads for things that don’t offer us an honest place of really looking at ourselves. I say bring on the fire, let’s burn this stale, safe, known, fearful place to the ground. Give me spiritual danger, give me the edge, give me something that makes me sweat, makes me breathe, makes me open inside, and feel truly alive. Give me enough fire to face my apathy every day. Give me enough fire to burn my petty mind that continuously spins out just the right type of nonsense to hook me into fear, judgement, and insecurity. Give me enough fire to care more about what’s inside me than any other thing. 

 middle road parenting is not for me, either. what i see all around me at the playgrounds, in the library, at gymnastics, is middle road and it makes me cringe. i want to jump up and down and shout IT DOESNT' HAVE TO BE THIS WAY!!! because truly, i believe that no intelligent person would continue to talk and behave the way they are to their children if they gave themselves a chance to believe in something different. 

there is a different way.

give me enough fire to be honest in the moment, rather than consistent and to question everything i've ever read or been told about parenting and children and what is possible for us. fuck the middle road. i will listen to my fire, instead.

abrasive with a dash of insecure

that's how i have been feeling lately. ugh. pissing people off. on this blog (see comments from a couple of days ago), with friends. not everyone and not all the time, but enough. enough to rattle me. 

it started with a conversation with my homeopathic doctor. he talked about how, for me (stuck with a suffocating need to please), as the remedies continue to work their magic, i will be more willing to piss people off for the sake of living authentically. if everyone likes me, then i'm not being real. 

in a sense it feels good. like i am not defined by people's definitions of me. i haven't panicked and rushed to fix things when i've said something less friendly, more truthful. and my "honesty" has also been a little misplaced, i think. oh i don't know.

i was a child raised by PUTIODS (parents-under-the-influence-of-doctor-spock), meaning that in spite of their profound love for me (or maybe because of it), i was taught to be "good". in this case, this means ...

::nice and polite

::thin and attractive

::clean and neat

::smart in a get-the-answer-right kind of way

::obedient

this has given me some helpful skills. i do know how to turn on the charm and blend in to the prevailing tide of social norms. i can follow rules. but on the other hand, it has fucked with me. i am more likely to say what others want to hear than what i want to say. i am more likely to change my behavior depending on who i'm around. i am more likely to follow than lead, to fit in than stand out, to be polite than be bold. i can feel confused and kind of sad. i can despise myself for being untrue and for never, ever being good enough. 

thank goodness for homeopathy.

thank goodness my parents are alive and that we love each other.

thank goodness for friends who are honest with me.

thank goodness for my powerful intuition and inner guidance.

thank goodness for my children. most of all, thank goodness for my children.  because for them, i will plunge to the icy and dark depths of myself and look, unflinchingly, at what i'd rather not see. i will own all of myself. for them, i will grow.

overwhelmed

photo by

i just can't do it all.

the list of all i want to do is totally made up by me. no one else to blame. 

i want a clean house

i want awesome food

i want to play and frolic outside with my children for hours on end

i want to move my body vigorously and feel strong and limber

i want to write and take photos and express myself honestly on this blog

i want to sew our clothes and knit and roll bits of wool roving into colorful balls to play with

i want to stay in touch with those i love

i want to have socks without holes in them and bras that give my boobs perk

i want to be my shamelessly and unapologetically myself

i want to watch movies

i want to write in their baby books regularly

i want to play music and dance and sing and laugh, laugh, laugh

i want to be stalwart 

i want to stretch and do yoga, even if just at home

i want to keep Feeleez business thriving

i want to contribute to the food buying club and finish that cultures order

and right now, as i look out at the dishes and pile of clothes to put away and knitting i long to tuck into, and quickbooks that lay open, i'm so damn sleepy and furious. 

just one of those moments.

thinking

about the miners in Chile and their families. impossible to even imagine.

this week in pictures

notice rad shirt by dig this chick.


this photo by saschy.

and, lest you think everything is all perfecto, here is our current favorite bath toy...

at least it's from the motherland, right? 

(i thought of starting a weekly post revealing such secrets as these and calling it bad, bad, mama. what do you think?)

hats

this was my first summer of knitting. 

check it out.

then cutest of all, this little love modeling them all.