Kimchi and company

My phone is dead so here is a picture of someone else’s kimchi.

So I’ve been on the fence about most of the meet-up gatherings I have attended. To clarify, meetup.com is a website where folks can create groups and gatherings (meet-ups) around any kind of topic, interest, motivation you can imagine. Not surprisingly, there are lots of moms meet ups, because, let’s face it: it can be lonely without a good network of friends who also are home with their kids, and it can be hard to find friends in a new place. More here on my saga in that regard. I’ve gone to a couple of local mom group meet ups and found them tolerable, even mildly enjoyable, but in the end, they’re an inorganic and forced way of finding people to spend time with. But finally I think I have come across a group where I feel comfortable and can do genuinely interesting things with other moms.

The group is about a half-hour away, but in a neighborhood on our target for our move next summer. And the group has a definite bias toward attachment parenting style, so the cloth diapers and breastfeeding and baby sleeping in my bed are all things no one there is at all surprised by. (You can’t really commisserate about the challenge of getting a good sleep with your little one under your arm with folks whose answer will be “so sleep train!” or about nursing a wiggly almost-9-month-old to folks who think you’re odd to be still nursing at all.)

The first gathering that fell on a day I could join was today – a get-together to attempt making kimchi. Five moms attended, along with about nine little ones. A couple of women had already chopped and brined overnight a significant quantity of napa cabbage. Together, we chopped shallots, green onions, garlic, ginger, and carrots. And in big mixing bowls we each combined ingredients for a total of about (i’m guessing here) 3 gallons of kimchi, divided into jars of various sizes for us to divide up and take home. Those who contributed more supplies took home more, but even those of us (me) who came with only green onions and some apples and peanut butter for snacks got a couple of jars. I can’t wait to try it – it smelled insanely good in preparation.

While we worked together the kids played, and it was easy to step away from a task to nurse or play. Most of us had a baby in a carrier for all or some of the morning. Del played on the floor and later fell asleep in the mei tai on my back. Conversation was comfortable. I felt like these were moms I would want to see again.

In fact, we all felt that way. And made plans to meet every two weeks for some kind of productive cooking project – baking bread, canning fall produce, making some bulk meals to take home and freeze. Or, as my friend Kristi put it: better living through hippies. Hear! Hear!

Maybe you want to read something else?

Part of the delight of the annual blogathon is coming across other blogs by writers you really enjoy. I know I will like a blog when I find both the content and the writer’s unique voice suit my taste – that is as indivually governed as choosing friends, so just because I like it doesn’t mean you will. But, it never hurts to introduce your friends to your other friends, so readers, here are a couple of writers I’m enjoying these days.

Aubergine

Doña of Aubergine

Ok, I admit I just like saying “aubergine”. And I like reading the warm, relaxed and writerly musings of Doña Bumgarner. Her “About Me” says a lot: “Doña Bumgarner is a freelance writer, artist, photographer and mama who lives on the central coast of California with her family. This blog is where she writes about her journey into new mamahood at the age of 38 and learning how to weave her old self with the new one. She has been a maker of stuff since her first watercolor class at age 8. She believes there is good energy in things made from scratch and that the smell of baby heads and freshly-made bread are possibly the best things in the world.”

A few posts I’ve recently enjoyed include how to spring clean your life (can be applied to any season, so don’t wait!), and her post on things she said she’d never do as a parent, which has a particular resonance in light of the Ann’s recent post about Elmo, and my new committment to being completely honest about parenthood in this blog. Doña is also a writer and artist, and her posts on writing are really inspiring and practical. I look forward to following for a long time to come.

Mamahhh

Jennifer Derryberry Mann is a mom and yoga instructor who focuses her practice on helping expectant and new moms ease into the postures of motherhood. Her description of Mamahhh is inviting: “a meditation on self-care for the wondrous, winding journey through the labyrinth of motherhood. The blog has a simple yet profound purpose: It’s a daily reminder to {breathe, mama}. Through the amazing moments and the awkward ones, and in times both sublime and stressful, there’s nothing quite like a sweet deep breath to bring you into the marrow of the present moment.”

The marrow of my present moment: I am wearing a skirt and nursing bra because my beautiful boy spit up on me as I held him; he’s now cooing happily on the floor, locked in a contest between his left hand and his right over which will carry the teething ring to his mouth; the fan hums in the window and my fingers click away at my keyboard. It’s a good moment. *breathe*

I have particularly enjoyed Jennifer’s persuasive invitations to practice self-care as part of sane parenting. It’s a series of posts which are almost self-care in and of themselves, but I’m sure Jennifer would agree that the best self-cre (no matter how much you enjoy writing) takes place away from screens. Her web design is also beautiful, and she includes Karen Mazen Miller in her list of favorite blogs. *loves*

Speaking of moments: while I finished this post, my baby rolled from back to tummy for the first time. He learned tummy to back a few days ago. What a day!

It’s not all or nothing: Our adventures in Elimination Communication, Natural Infant Hygeine, or plain old pooping in the toilet.

Anna writes Murphybaby, one of my frequently visited blogs. As part of the Blogathon we are both doing, we were encouraged to do a Guest Post Swap, and I was really glad Anna agreed to swap with me. She lives on the West Coast, in Canada, on an island! She also has curly hair and is not afraid to write about poop.

It started ages ago, really. I read an article about elimination communication and thought ‘who has time for that? it sounds terrible’.

But the seed was planted, then. I began to take notice of blog posts and articles about going diaper-free, and to think about the logic. I found myself talking about the concept at mommy group. But still, it wasn’t for me, no way. I’m busy, I don’t have time for this stuff. I’m already using cloth diapers, I’m on the hippie parenting train about as much as I can be.

But a couple of weeks ago, I met a mom at mommy group whose daughter was wearing no diaper. She wore cute, tiny little panties and doesn’t even wear a diaper to bed. At six months old. My mind was blown, and the competitive part of myself was activated. If she can do it, I can, too.

*whispers* Elmo!

From contributing writer Ann Croft,  one of the coolest moms I know.

 

I am ashamed to admit it, but I have let my 13 month-old watch television.  And not just once – more like once a week.

I am ashamed, not because I grew up without television, but, because I am one of those obnoxious people who will state with disgust, “Oh – I don’t watch T.V.”   And here I am, letting – no not letting – encouraging my baby to watch Elmo.

I’ve got a million excuses.  And they all begin with the fact that I’m exhausted.

The kicker is that my kid, my brilliant, creative, funny kid, LOVES Elmo.  The first time I put in an Elmo DVD (that my pusher-husband brought home from the library – yes, let’s blame him!) she stopped what she was doing, plopped down on the rug, and said, “Hi!” to the T.V.  She was hooked.

She laughs uproariously when Elmo laughs.  Which is ALL the time, by the way.  And she bops along to his silly songs.  I’m pretty sure she thinks Elmo is a very talented cat as she calls to him the same way she calls our housecats.

While she watches, she will often turn her head to check in with me almost as if she is making sure that I am soaking it all in with her.  Her eyes seem to say, “Got that, mommy, got that?  Mr. Noodle thinks a banana is a telephone!  Oh Mr. Noodle!”

And it gets better.  I let her stand directly beneath the television, holding on to the table with her neck bent almost 90 degrees staring up at the screen.  Yes, I have moved her away for fear that she’ll strain her eyes or pull the whole thing down on herself.  But it’s as if she just can’t get close enough to Elmo.  She always ends up back in that position.

Get this girl a hard hat!

So.  Not only is my child’s brain being turned to mush by the evil producers of Sesame Street, she is going to need a neck brace and glasses by the time she gets to kindergarten.

But let me tell you.  As guilty as I feel.  As much as I try to keep this my dirty little secret.  As much as I say, “Just this once because I am soooo tired.  But after this, never again,” I have to admit it, much like my 13 month-old, I’m hooked on Elmo.

 

♬Do dah doo doo Do dah doo doo Elmo’s World. . . .♬♫

Five great overlooked movie moms

As part of the Blogathon I’m participatig in, I have the option to take part in a few “theme days” throughout the month. I adapting today’s theme suggestion from “Five movies that influence your blogging” to “Five great overlooked movie moms” – partly in honor of Mother’s Day coming up and partly because it fits Woah Baby better . This list is totally off the cuff – I’ve put no serious thought into it so I might be missing some great mothers. Chime in with your favorite movie mothers!

1) Beatrix Kiddo – the heroine of Kill Bill, she is seeking revenge against the members of the Deadly Viper Assassination Squad responsible for trying to murder her on her wedding day. In one of the best moments of the Kill Bill movies, you learn through a series of flashbacks that Beatrix was pregnant when they tried to kill her, and she is actually avenging the death of her baby daughter. THEN *spoiler alert* Beatrix finds out when she finally gets to Bill, that her baby is not dead! After all her avenging is complete, she takes her daughter home. That’s some great mom work there.

2) Marge Gunderson – the seven-months pregnant police officer in Fargo. I just know anyone who says “So that was Mrs. Lundegaard on the floor in there. And I guess that was your accomplice in the wood chipper. And those three people in Brainerd. And for what? For a little bit of money. There’s more to life than a little money, you know. Don’tcha know that? And here ya are, and it’s a beautiful day. Well. I just don’t understand it,” is going to be a really good mom.

3) Elaine Miller – William’s mom in Almost Famous, and my second Francis McDormand nomination, Elaine struggles to support her son’s independence while still protecting him. When she calls the rock star William is travelling with, she tells him: “This is not some apron-wearing mother you’re speaking with – I know all about your valhalla of decadence and I shouldn’t have let him go. He’s not ready for your world of compromised values and diminished brain cells that you throw away like confetti. Am I speaking to you clearly? If you break his spirit, harm him in any way, keep him from his chosen profession which is law – something you may not value, but I do – you will meet the voice on the other end of this telephone and it will not be pretty. Do we understand each other?” Rock star Russell tells William, “Your mom kinda freaked me out.” William replies, “She means well.”

4) Sheryl Hoover – Olive’s mom in Little Miss Sunshine. That woman’s family was a full plate of crazy potatoes with loony cheese and mild dysfunction for dessert. But gosh-darnit when her little girl needs to get to the Little Miss Sunshine pageant, Sheryl drags the whole lot of them into the broken down van and gets them there. And she’s right there with Olive when the audience and judges are  trying to stop the trainwreck that is Olive’s dance routine.

5) Mrs. Parker – can’t place her? How about a hint: a neighbors crazed dogs charge in and eat this woman’s holiday turkey, her youngest son will only eat food if she teases him into acting like a little piggy, and most famously, her dimwit husband puts his prize stripper leg lamp right in her living room window where everyone can see it. Yep, Ralph’s mom in A Christmas Story. But she doesn’t let Ralph get into trouble for beating up the town bully, she gamely eats duck at the Chinese restauraunt when Christmas dinner is ruined, and she breaks the hideous lamp on “accident”. Under that frizzy hair, Mrs. Parker had some wits, and definitely an extra reserve of patience.

Who are your favorite movie moms?

It takes a village, part two

Women in construction. image from ecobuildingtrends.com

Villages are not built overnight.

My attempts to rapidly fabricate a village in our new town have been a kind of tragicomedy which you can possibly only appreciate when you’ve felt the happy desperation that is being a stay at home mom. (Happy because instead of working somewhere you’re home taking care of this infinitely adorable little person/desperate because some days you just HAVE to talk to someone else or go somewhere before you collapse in an angry, weeping heap.)

I started with a few google searches: moms’ groups in gaithersburg, new moms montgomery county, etc. Found a few leads but nothing much was coming up. A children’s consignment shop about an hour from here was having a baby sign language class, and that inspired me to search for baby sign language in my area. I found something – classes taught nearby! Awesome. But no… the last time a class was held was in 2009. Further digging revealed this teacher lives an hour away and only does private classes now.

It takes a village, part one

It is said that it takes a village to raise a child. Now that I am a mother, I agree with it more than ever, and am grateful for the varied and wonderful village of friends and acquaintances who love my son. But the last few weeks have lead me to believe that it also takes a village to raise a mother.

image by Erin at laughpaintcreate.com

Leaving my DC neighborhood for a suburban Maryland apartment near my husband’s work a few weeks ago has been … hard. To gain proximity to Zach’s job (and an end to his hour-plus commute), and an apartment both larger and cheaper than our DC place, and a less-expensive existence for our now single-income family, I lost several important things: familiar neighborhood, easy travel (DC is very walkable and has great public transit) and most importantly, easy access to my village. A Village doesn’t come easy – it’s curated over time as we meet many different people over years of interacting around shared interests, activities and values. We drift away from people you don’t connect with. And with others, we resonate; there is harmony of thought, similar sense of humor, sympathy and support. They become your village.

Cross post from Amanda

Amanda has written for Woah Baby a few times, and remains my hero when it comes to writing a meaningful and engaging blog. She’s expecting her first baby ANY DAY NOW and just wrote this amazing post about her expectant state. With her permission I share it here, and I encourage you to follow her blog if you don’t already.

You know how pop culture tells you pregnancy is a 9-month-long affair?

Pop culture is full of shit.

Your due date is set for week 40 of your pregnancy. 40 weeks, divided by 4 weeks a month… that’s 10 months. Yep.

I’m currently in the middle of week 38. And at this point, pregnancy has turned into a waiting game. When will she make her appearance? Today? Tomorrow? In 4 weeks? (Docs usually wait til week 42 to induce labor, barring any complications.)

Here’s the thing: Patience has never been my strong suit.

But I gotta say, I think I’ve been pretty fucking heroic in terms of patience these past few weeks, amidst increasing physical discomfort. Really, at this point, pregnancy just starts to feel like one indignity after another. To wit: I’ve previously mentioned my middle-of-the-night crab-walks to the bathroom; well, they’re only getting worse. The pain is excruciating — truly, searing pain from the pressure on my bladder, to the point that I’m afraid I won’t be able to walk the five feet to the bathroom and will need Jordan to bring me a chamber pot or something. (Note: We do not own a chamber pot.)

Chamber pot: not on our registryAdd to that: feet and ankles that are fat and swollen (the only shoes that fit these days are flip flops); dull pain in my left hip and thigh that makes it impossible to lie on my left side (sciatica?); a belly so itchy you’d think it was covered in poison ivy; and, lately, recurring (mild) headaches. Walking around the block exhausts me, and I gave up on the subway a few weeks back because the stairs were just killing me — so now we’re slowly spending our life savings on cabs to and from Manhattan for our weekly doctor’s appointments. Oh, and I snore so loudly that Jordan needs to wear ear plugs in order to sleep.

Hooray! The miracle of life!

Now, I know I sound negative, but I’ve actually been pretty Zen about all this. I don’t constantly feel sorry for myself or complain. First, I’m grateful that she’s healthy, and I’m healthy — I’ll take discomfort over serious health issues any day. Second, my friend Katie advised me to think about this phase of pregnancy (and labor… and new-parenthood…) as a yoga practice, and that metaphor really works for me: These discomforts are like challenging yoga poses, and I need to breathe my way through them, rather than fight them, resent them, hate them. Kicking and screaming just exhausts you and makes you unhappy. Giving up — well, you can opt out of a difficult pose in yoga class, but there’s no opting out of the reality of my body these days. Acceptance, while difficult, is really the only path forward. That said, as with a difficult yoga pose — you can and should certainly make adjustments, and breathe, to find equanimity; suffering is not the goal. The goal is to be able to coexist peacefully with discomfort, and maybe to discover potential and abilities you didn’t know you had. And if I can do that now, my chances of doing it during labor, and as a new mom, are bound to increase.

Also, as much as I want the Hirschling to make her grand debut, so that (a) I can finally meet her! and hold her! and (b) I can end the discomfort of pregnancy, I also realize that as soon as she comes, I will miss this. There is a sweetness to these days, and sometimes it’s hard to see beneath all the discomfort, but — Jordan and I will never be on the verge of having our first baby, ever again. We are on the cusp of something huge, and when we look back, from the other side, it will be hard to remember what it felt like.

It feels like: Let’s go on a lot of dates, even though it means springing for a taxi or taking two buses to get to our destination, since I can’t take the subway. Let’s cook dinner and eat it with Cosmo lying on his spot on the carpet, waiting for permission to get up and sniff for any crumbs we might have dropped. Let’s watch multiple episodes of “Parks and Recreation” or “Bored to Death” or “Breaking Bad” and eat ice cream (well, Stonyfield organic frozen yogurt) on the couch. Let’s sit on the deck and listen to the rain on the roof. Let’s read in bed, with Cosmo at our feet, until we tell him it’s time for bed, at which point, he dutifully climbs down the pet stairs to his dog bed, below.

Let’s try to relax, as terrified as we are, as excited as we are, as expectant as we are.

“Expectant” is the right word; truly, it’s not just me that’s pregnant — our lives are pregnant. With anticipation. With wondering. We’re scared of the change ahead of us, no matter how many workshops we may teach on rolling with the punches. We know we’ll roll — it’s what we do, and we probably do it better than most…not that it’s a competition, but it’s a strength we have, as a couple.

But — what we’ve had for these almost-13 years of marriage, and these almost-18 years of being together, is so special, and we’re worried that she will jeopardize that. That having a child will jeopardize our freedom to pursue our creative interests, our passion for travel, our need for down time.

We embarked on this journey because — well, for a lot of reasons, that are hard to sum up in a sentence, or two, or three. And now, with my due date just over a week away… it’s like staring down a path that curves, and you can’t see around the bend, no matter how much you strain; and you can’t help straining to see, no matter how much you realize that straining is silly… that it’s just a matter of taking a step, and then another, and another.

Other travelers tell you what they’ve seen, but their words don’t conjure your own journey; you know you’ll see something different, through your own eyes. That the terrain will feel different, under your feet.

And you worry: what dangers might there be? Maybe you should have stayed home, should have avoided this journey altogether.

(That is a hard thing to write. It makes me feel like a bad person. But it’s the truth.)

And then — she kicks, and our faces light up, and metaphors melt away. Fear and doubt melt away. She isn’t an abstraction — she’s… her. And I am overcome with yearning — the yearning to HOLD her, after all this time. And a feeling of peace comes over me, the peace that comes from faith… my deep and abiding faith in anything that grows from our love.

And so… we wait.

[Chamber pot photo by Flickr user Walter Aue. All other photos are by Jordan or me.]

Amanda Hirsch uses social media and snappy writing to increase the visibility, reach and impact of Good Things, from indie media projects to cultural organizations and health/wellness start-ups.

In addition, she is the co-founder (with husband, Jordan) of THINK IMPROV, a company that grew out of their workshops at SXSW (audience favorite 2010). They help people apply the concepts of improv comedy to improve their lives and work.

Follow Amanda on Twitter @Amanda_Hirsch, and her blog at www.amandahirsch.com

To my friend, awaiting the birth of her daughter

I wanted to let you know you’ve been on my mind the last few days. I don’t know how to express the feeling other than to say that if I were the type to do so, I’d be offering you a blessing. You will learn so much about yourself in the days ahead – wonderful things. If I have any advice or wisdom to offer, it is this: I know you are a person who has experienced what it is to get your mind and body and spirit in harmony to help yourself accomplish difficult things. What makes you able to do that, will make you able to give birth to your daughter. Welcome it like you welcome the challenge of an unsettling yoga posture. And not just the birth itself, but everything – welcome the waiting, the awkwardness of the end of pregnancy, the pushing, the nursing, the sleeplessness, the almost unbearable joy and the almost unbearable differentness of it all. When you emerge in a few months from the fog of pregnancy and new parenthood, you’ll have a new limberness and strength you never thought was possible.

I am happy beyond words for you and grateful to know you, and to be able to know you as you become a mom.

Break a leg.

Photos in Brooklyn!

I keep trying to write up our lovely weekend in NYC – Del’s first trip away from home! But other things keep getting in the way. I was going to wait to post this after the NYC story, since it happened while we were there, but OH well! One of the awesome things I got to do on our trip was visit our great friends Jordan and Amanda, who are expecting their first baby in three more months. It’s a little girl, and her name is a surprise. She’s got a beautiful peacock blue bedroom with a big window and a pretty white crib. And her mommy is absolutely lovely right now. I took maternity photos for Amanda on the street outside their Brooklyn apartment and want to share them, because Amanda writes on Woah Baby! from time to time. Click on one of the photos to see more on my photography website.