What's So Relaxing About a Murder-by-Treetop Ballad?

Philosotoddler has a point.  Source: http://slacktory.com/2012/01/philosotoddler/

This past weekend, my boys wanted to play "baby."  I had such a woah-time-is-going-way-too-fast moment strike as I cradled them in my arms.  It especially resonated with my older son, my first baby, as all four feet plus of him and his long, lean limbs stretched far beyond my lap.

A friend and I recently discussed that while we may be picky about what movies we play in our home, we're unlikely to ever censor their book choices.  Yet when they were itty bitty, I did occasionally employ creative editing of some morbid lullabies and nursery rhymes.

If, like me, you've wondered why anyone would write lyrics about a child falling to their presumed death, let alone sing it to put children to sleep, perhaps you'd like my reworked Rock-a-Bye Baby!

Rock-a-bye baby

In mommy's arms

While you are here, you'll come to no harm

You know that I love you

And you know that daddy does too

Are there any songs or stories that disturbed you enough to change them when sharing with your kids?

Blog Break's Over

Hi there.  I missed you.  I missed writing.  Life, on the other hand, provided an abundance of distractions.  Primarily health issues.  Depression reared its ugly head with me again.  And R and Slim had and have their own things.  But neither are my story to tell, so I won't.  I returned to journaling first, but I like sharing my words too much to give up on blogging.  My blog break's over.  I can't promise I won't disappear again, but I hope not.  Now that I've given thought to what I can write about while still allowing my subjects a respectful level of confidentiality, I have a lot to say!

World Breastfeeding Week: Celebrating Nursing in Public

Happy World Breastfeeding Week!  Twenty years ago, World Breastfeeding Week (WBW) was born!  As it states on their Facebook page it was "Launched by the World Alliance for Breastfeeding Action (WABA) to focus and facilitate actions to protect, promote and support breastfeeding, [WBW] is officially celebrated annually from Aug 1-7."

In honor of WBW, I will be doing some breastfeeding themed posts on the blog.

First up, is one that I dredged from my old Myspace account.  I had to reset my password, but yup, mine still exists.  It's like an online time capsule!  Back in 2007, when Slim was six months old, we took a trip (my first! and only) to Disney World.  Really, Slim and I just tagged along during one of R's work conferences, but I couldn't pass up the chance to finally get to go.  I was the recipient of a comment while nursing in the park and follows is my recap of what happened.

In making the commitment to breastfeed, I have also known that I would need to nurse in public. Nursing in public has made the news a lot lately - from the incident on a Delta flight to a mother being accosted by a security guard in the Berkshire Mall to several more cases that I'm sure moms have suffered in silence without going to the media.  Slim's nursed nearly everywhere - restaurants, stores, people's homes, even on a steamboat at Disney and although the fear has never stopped me from feeding him wherever I am, I have to admit, I've always been worried that someone would make a rude comment about it.

Thankfully, my first comment was a positive one. Early into our day at Disney Slim got hungry. I sat down, got comfortable and nursed him. A woman with dyed red hair came up to me and said, "Thank you so much for breastfeeding in public!" I was flustered by someone approaching me while nursing and responded, "Oh my God, of course!" And away she walked. She made me so happy that it brought a tear to my eye. I asked R to take a picture of me nursing Slim right then to capture the moment. It's one I truly cherish.

Over the course of approximately four years of breastfeeding, I never once was on the end of a disparaging comment while my baby/toddler/child was at my breast.  The closest I got was while flying solo with Curly and my seatmate asked if I needed a blanket and she'd press the flight attendant button since my hands were full.  I responded with a polite, "no, thank you - we're good here!" and got a simple, "oh, ok" in turn.  I truly think she was genuinely trying to be helpful, but also felt slightly uncomfortable. The Disney experience was my only encouraging comment from a stranger though. 

In last month's La Leche League meeting, I paraphrased a quote (don't know to whom to attribute, but Google says Eleanor Roosevelt), "Other people aren't thinking about you as much as you think, so don't worry!"  It sounds negative, but I meant it to be freeing and supportive of nursing in public.  It's so easy to think that everyone is staring at you when you're latching your child on, but chances are, they don't notice.  Plus, if someone is looking at you, it may be a woman like me, who is fondly remembering her nursing days!  I've been known to give thank you comments of my own, but occasionally I just smile.

Happy Birthday Hannah!

Happy Birthday Hannah!  Today On July 27 (but I didn't post this then) you turn turned eleven!

Hannah, at 7 in 2008.  This is my favorite picture of her.

On July 27, 2001, R and I moved in together, several states away from our families.  So though we adopted you in October that year, we selected your birthday as one that we (who am I kidding? that I) would always remember for its significance. 

It was only a few short weeks post September 11th and R and I were discussing wanting a pet.  I think we wanted to fill the void in our hearts, we wanted something innocent to cherish and protect, we wanted a semblance of Rockwellian ordinary life, and we wanted to feel more like a family unit.  Maybe.  I don't know.  We were on the young side of twenty, practically still kids. 

The day we brought her home, in 2001.  Still nameless at this point.

When we walked into the PetSmart adoption event, we actually were looking for a cat.  After all, at the time we lived in a one bedroom apartment and both had full time jobs.  I had normal hours, in a bank, but R was a restaurant manager at the time, and there was no normal.  There were no cats that day, but several adorable puppies.  None were siblings.  All the dogs were different breeds.  I remember another couple chose an all black dog and were wandering around the aisles looking for leather accessories - including biker jacket - for their new addition, Harley.

The moment you were placed in my arms by the rescue shelter volunteer, there was no giving you back.  You owned my heart that quickly.

Choosing a name for you took a couple of hours.  See, we'd picked out a name for a cat (Philly, after the city) but it just seemed silly on you.  I don't recall all of the names we tossed around.  But I know it was me who said, "Hannah?" while we walked you outside, on the apartment's common grounds, and you perked right up.  It was settled.  Hannah Banana Lastname was officially ours.

 

Like a seed, watch me grow.  2002

I love you.  Even though I know you likely felt less in our eyes when we started having babies and adopted more pets into our menagerie.  Even though you never did stop barking at every Tom, Dick, and Hairy creature that walked past our house or dared saunter into your yard.  Even though you are a naughty, tricksy food thief.

A nanny dog for Slim, in 2006.

I'm not ready to say good-bye yet.  And though you are not at a point where I'd have to, you are showing your age more lately.  My puppy has more aches and pains and isn't quite so spry, my sweet girl can occasionally be like a crotchety old man.  Just promise me, that when the time comes, you let me know.  Shh, yes, I am crying, don't look at me like that Hannah.  I hope I am giving you a good life.  Because I know you help make mine richer.

Having a younger dog around helps keep her young, I think.  2011

Tattoo

I have wanted a tattoo for a long time.  As in, over a decade.  I've debated over what, if, where.  One of my Pinterest boards is dedicated to inspiration and tattoos that please me aesthetically.

A pin that I kept coming back to was:

Source: flickr.com via Meghan on Pinterest

Cottonwood trees mean nothing to me, but I admire the way the leaves follow the contours of the body.  I finally settled the debate; I want a leaf (or leaves) tattoo.  But it has to be more than just a pretty picture.  What leaf is tied to a memory?

That would be the ginkgo, The Living Dinosaur.

If you "like" my blog page on Facebook, you may have noticed my cover photo of ginkgo leaves.

Source: flickr.com via Meghan on Pinterest

When I was a little girl, I often spent part of recess making bouquets from the ginkgo leaves that fell on my elementary school playground.

And on my last evening LLL meeting in Kansas, as I walked into the hospital, I stepped over fallen ginkgo leaves.  I picked one up.  Then, at the park where Slim's preschool graduation was held, a place we'd been several times, I noticed the ginkgo trees.  I grabbed some leaves.  They are all now pressed in a beloved book.  On my last morning LLL meeting in Kansas, a fellow Leader's son was wearing a shirt on which she'd embroidered a ginkgo leaf.  Sign, sign, everywhere a sign. It's meant to be.  The only question left to answer is when?

Source: millicentcrow.blogspot.com via Meghan on Pinterest

Garnier Fructis Triple Nutrition Product Review

Despite being part of a load of BzzCampaigns with BzzAgent, I've understandably been preoccupied with the move and haven't been bzzing quite as often as I should.

I want to share my thoughts on Garnier Fructis Triple Nutrition.  But first,  let me tell you about my hair and then do a photo retrospective!

You know how schools do class superlatives, like Most Likely to Succeed and Best Dressed?  Well, in eighth grade I was selected for the Prettiest Hair award.  Friends, amongst other nicknames, called me Pantene Girl.

Sure, I haven't always liked how I look (and I have a post coming on that, after the move) but I've almost always liked my hair.

I'm blonde, naturally.  Up until I was in middle school, my hair turned platinum blonde in the Summer sun.  Now, my hair is an ashy blonde that borders on dishwater.  Since I first discovered Sun-In when I was twelve or so, I've been lightening or otherwise coloring my hair.  The only time I see the natural color is when I let it grow long enough for the roots to show.  For instance, now.  I haven't had my hair cut or highlighted in months.  I'm accidentally working the ombre hair look when all I've been trying to do is become more low maintenance.

Ultimately, I've always been of the opinion that it's only hair and it will grow back.  This is why I'm not afraid to experiment.  In the last ten years alone, I've had short hair three times, sported several styled of bangs, gone without, attempted to be platinum blonde, went dark on my own and at a salon, and decided that certain styles aren't worth repeating.  Which isn't to say I won't!

August 2011

May 2012

April 2010

September 2012

You can see how in less than one year's time, from August 2011 to May 2012, how quickly my hair grows.  Between those months, I have only had my hair cut and highlighted once.  The May picture was taken at Slim's school during the Mother's Day Tea event.  You'll notice my tongue sticking out and him making a silly pout.  I was in the midst of saying, "smile" when another mom snapped the picture.  I included it so that you can see how my hair looks when using Garnier Fructis Triple Nutrition.

Here's some facts:

• Works best on dry or damaged hair
• Nourishes hair to the core so it shines from within
• Formulated with Fortified Fruit Science – three weightless nutritive fruit oils (olive, avocado and shea)
• Packed with ultra-rich and nourishing conditioners that rinse clean — we dare you to find something that treats your dry damaged hair better
• Part of a larger Triple Nutrition line that includes Nutrient Spray and 3-Minute Undo Dryness Reversal Treatment
• Have a suggested retail price of $3.99 (13 oz.) and $6.99 (25.4 oz.)
• Available at grocery stores, drug stores and mass retailers like Target and Wal-Mart

Green living is important to me, but I am nowhere near the level I'd like to be.  It pleases me that the packaging is more eco-friendly: the bottles are made containing PET  and 30% recycled plastic. They're also 10% lighter, which saves over 125 tons of plastic annually. 

I have been using it in conjunction with a clarifying shampoo and conditioner and a charcoal scalp treatment. I don't wash my hair every day - I've, on average, used Garnier Fructis two times a week. But I feel that the regimen I put together helps my hair look fabulous.

Of things that will never be

Okay, let me get this out of the way first:  I love my sons and would not trade them for anything.  This post is merely a reflection of my thought that it would be nice to have a daughter as well.  Meaning, in addition to, not instead of.

If Slim had been a girl, we would have named him Nora Rachel.

Had Curly been a girl, his name would have been Sarah Gwyneth.

And because I make R play the name game with me, we know what we would name an accidental (which is the only way a future child is happening) son or daughter.  I'll keep those names close, just in case an accident happens, that way their name would be as private as Slim's and Curly's.

What's got me thinking of daughters?

I suppose it's the time of year.  Friend's daughters are having their dance recitals and I feel a tad envious.  When I was a girl, I took ballet, jazz and modern dance from instructors who, while I didn't entirely recognize it at the time, created a caring atmosphere that inspired love of movement, body confidence, and respect.  It makes me sad that I will likely never enroll a child of mine in dance or watch them perform in a dance recital. 

I've discussed my thoughts on this with R and with friends.  Despite being a parent who encourages her sons to break beyond typical gender roles, I do have my limits.  Unless Slim or Curly approach us about wanting to take dance lessons, I won't sign them up.  I recognize the societal view of a male dancer.

To which I argue:



Photo credit: http://danceiseuphoria.wordpress.com/?s=Mikhail+Baryshnikov&submit=Search

Mikhail Baryshnikov was considered a sex symbol, which he finds an "illusion from the stage." But damn if there isn't something powerful and inherently sexy about an athletic body.

Still.  Although there are resources like the blog, Boys and Ballet, that seek to highlight male success in dance and eliminate, or at least ease, the stereotypes boys taking ballet face.  Yet.  Even knowing enough football players have taken ballet, "it wasn't news anymore." 

All of those things do not compel me to subject my guys to potential mocking for what is nothing more than my desire to have a dancer.  To me, that would be no better than forcing them to only play with trucks when they also wanted to play with baby dolls, or making them wear dresses instead of shorts without their consent.  I cannot force my will on my children. 

Yes, it's hard for me, as someone who believes in blurring the lines between traditional male and female roles to acknowledge the hold sexism has on me and the limits I will set as a mother.  I do somewhat bemoan the possibilities lost with no Nora or Sarah. Ultimately, my wanting Slim and Curly to know how to sew, change a flat tire, make a meal, and build something is so that they have an abundance of tools to become awesome.  And become the person they want.  Not what I want.