What Seven Looks Like

I can’t believe my BABY is seven. No more baby. Not a lot of little girl left; much more big girl.

The big girl chose not to have a party this year. Instead she asked for a “family party” where we go bowling together.

This is what it looks like when farmers go bowling.

She had a truly excellent time. I don’t think she even realized that she hit 16 pins in ten frames.

Another gutter ball! This is so fun, Dad!

It’s hard to bowl when even the special ball (the one you have to request because they keep it behind the counter) is 15% of your body weight. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t a great time!

Especially when you have a brand-new American Girl Doll that you’ve been dreaming of to bring along.

She made her own cake, decorated it with star-shaped sprinkles and topped it with seven pink candles.

Glowing.

Angel food for our little Angel. We are so blessed, and she is so loved.

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Discoveries

Each summer we do some deep cleaning around the house, including the children’s rooms. I found this on my daughter’s bulletin board:

I had never seen this before. It was covered by more recent paper treasures, tacs fraying the corners, hidden from view. Hanging beside it, curled at the edges, was a coloring picture of a castle. It was mostly orange.

The markers’ ink hadn’t stayed inside the castle lines very well, also indicating it’s age. She has become quite good at coloring ‘inside the lines’ in the last several months.

This is something that happens with remarkable regularity: I will find, scattered amongst the house, scraps of paper beside abandoned scissors or a box of markers/crayons/pencils puked out in disarray. I would never have allowed such disorder when the boys were littler. Keeping things tidy and under control were much more important; school was the place for such tomfoolery.

Oh how I robbed them.

I love the innocence of this picture. She is so pure. Each time a piece of the big, bad world enters her little space I watch some of that innocence die. It is a necessary part of growing up, but I don’t have to like it and I certainly don’t have to rush it.

This past winter we had a rash of small robberies on our property – tools and equipment stolen from our sheds and outbuildings.

Her godmother gave her a necklace last week – a special and very “big kid” gift which she was thrilled about. But she has wanted to talk to me several times about how she could keep it safe from the robbers.

No dirty things allowed indeed.

~ In old days there were angels who came and took men by the hand and led them away from the city of destruction. We see no white-winged angels now. But yet men are led away from threatening destruction: a hand is put into theirs, which leads them forth gently towards a calm and bright land, so that they look no more backward; and the hand may be a little child’s.

GEORGE ELIOT, Silas Marner

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Of Reaping and Weeping

Farmer Boy wants to grow up as quickly as possible. He is like a thirty-year-old trapped inside a nine-year-old body. Play for him always means work in a different way than it does for my other two children. Last September, as my mother-in-law lay dying of breast cancer in a hospice unit, Farmer Boy followed his father’s example. He sowed wheat.

When faced with crisis, sometimes people fall apart. Other’s pray. Some people turn to addictive behaviors to crutch through it (like drinking, smoking, eating or crocheting). I talk or write (and crochet. And drink a little).

My Farmer works.

When a situation beyond his control becomes emotionally unmanageable, he maintains equilibrium by getting his hands dirty, or wielding shop tools, or roaring into a field.

It reminds us that life goes on; the Earth continues to spin and the seasons will keep changing and there WILL be a tomorrow. I think working gives him a sense of the world being bigger than himself, and allows his personal tragedies to stay in perspective until he feels ready to deal with them.

I’m not certain that a person is ever ready to deal with their mother dying. They just eventually have to.

Last September, My Farmer’s mommy died. She was his friend. He saw her every single day of his life with the exception of college. Somehow they had managed to grow their relationship past the mother/child bond into an adult friendship (that’s hard to do). My Farmer harvested corn or milo or soybeans all day and then sat by the slumbering, failing body of his mother all evening. Sometimes he stayed all night, giving his father, brother or sisters a break. When we knew there was no turning back, when we had to help her face the idea of hospice, he planted acre after acre after acre of wheat.

His little son watched him. And he sowed his own.

Last wheat harvest, one year ago, was the final time my mother-in-law was healthy enough to participate in the activity on her beloved farm. She helped us shuffle equipment and people from field to field. When the children got tired of riding with Dad in the combine or Mom in the grain cart, she watched them at her house. She made or picked up supper sometimes. And we all felt bad every time she did because we could see (though not openly admit) that things were beginning to get rough. But she wanted to so badly; she loved the farm, loved the work. She loved to help; service was an essential part of who she was.

It should be no surprise that the planet has spun us back around to this same place, but it is. Today would have been their wedding anniversary.

Farmer Boy has been harvesting his wheat, just like Dad. In all things, there is a cycle of birth and death.

There is always an ending.

There is a proper time for everything, but we don’t always know when that is. We just try our best to be prepared and accept the unknown.

He came out of bed repeatedly last night with flimsy excuses. Finally I gave up my conversation with My Farmer and went to sit at his bedside; something was obviously bothering him.

“Mom? I can’t stop thinking about what happened to Grandma. I keep having flashes of being with her at the hospital, of how she looked and how she sounded. I keep remembering her funeral.”

We cannot always understand God's timeline.

“I just can’t stop thinking about when that is going to happen to me. Not cancer, but…you know…that one day I’m going to…perish.”

(I guess he’s like his mother – Sometimes my friends laugh at me because my texts contain un-textlike vocabulary.)

“One day it’s going to be me, under the ground like that. Like Grandma. I know that my ‘being’ will keep existing, but my body is going to be buried forever.”

"There is a time to every purpose under heaven."

We talked about heaven for a long time. He wondered what it felt like, and I told him to think of a time when his heart was so full of love and joy that it seemed to be spilling out of him – he said when Grandpa brought him a junker mower to take apart – I told him that heaven is like that, but even better.

We talked about making sure we don’t worry so much about dying that we forget to live – really live. About how Grandma never let dying get in her way of living.

“Some things about this life are so good, Mom. But it’s so sad that we can’t have a pause or rewind button. I don’t want to get old. But there are good things about getting old. Think about your Gramma, Mom – she’s so old and she is so healthy! She lives by herself and goes to the aquarium and picks up babies and cooks and cooks and walks to the pond behind her house. I don’t think I’m going to die until I’m very old. Most people in our family live for a really long time. But I wish there was a pause button.”

He finally fell asleep, holding my hand in both of his, pressing it to him to be sure I wouldn’t go away.

I wish there was a pause button too.

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Why Time Magazine is representative of everything that is bothering me right now

This topic is going to be HUGE around the web, people. Time Magazine has an article about the “controversial” practices of Attachment Parenting philosophy and Dr. Sears in their latest issue. Here is the cover:

Jamie Lynne Grumet, photographed by Martin Schoeller

The picture is shocking. What bothers me about it is two-fold. First of all, it’s an unnatural position and posed to solicit strong feelings. (In real life, a mother nurses like this only to relieve a plugged duct – I’m just saying.) In other words, society finds breastfeeding shocking AND that shock value makes people spend money. Secondly, I am bothered that people get all out-of-whack calling it inapropriate, disgusting, or sexually motivated.

How about this one?

Jennifer Aniston photographed by Michael Thompson

Or this one?

Julia Louis Dreyfus photographed by Shape Magazine.

I will tell you what the difference is, my friends. The first photo is a picture of breasts that are not being paid for their work, photographed for shock value to sell magazines. Those breasts are working hard every day, contributing to society in a critical way, but they don’t receive a monetary paycheck. The next two pictures are big stars (disclaimer – I am a fan of both of these ladies) who are paid big bucks that in an industry where appearance is of critical importance, and the photos are meant to be shocking or inspiring for the purpose of selling magazines. But I didn’t feel the need to blog several thousand words about the GQ or Shape photos.

Why?

In the Time Magazine article, Dr. Sears is portrayed as an anti-feminist, as someone whose parenting practices have brainwashed women into sacrificing themselves upon the mantle of motherhood while giving up every other part of their identity in order to meet the demanding code of AP (attachement parenting).

I find this to be frustrating. Let me outline my reasons.

1) These women are not doing something unheard of or unadvised in regards to breastfeeding. In fact, as my friend Grace pointed out on Facebook, they are only following the guidelines of the World Health Organization and the American Academy of Pediatrics who advocate breastfeeding for far longer than the average American mother does. Nowhere in the article do they talk about the fact that parents (YES! NOT JUST MOTHERS!) who practice AP are some of the minority who are meeting the health guidelines laid out by all major medical organizations.

2) Are some AP practices controversial? Yes. Co-sleeping and extended breastfeeding (and recently even babywearing) have their share of detractors. But are they controversial in such a way as to pit mothers against one another? The cover states boldly “Are You Mom Enough?”, suggesting that only the toughest, best, hardiest mothers could practice AP. I must honestly tell you that, in my anecdotal experience, I have never seen anything to indicate that AP parents are tougher or work harder than those who don’t. In fact, AP parents are some of the laziest that I know – and I mean that in a loving way! It was so simple for me to pop out a nipple and keep typing, or snuggle baby into daddy’s arms so I could keep doing the bookwork late in the evening – not a very disciplined lifestyle, but that’s my personality and how life works on our farm (we like to roll with the punches rather than plan ahead too much). In other words: It worked for us. It’s not because I was “mom enough,” it just felt right. Intentionally fanning the flames of bad feelings in the so-called ‘mommy wars’ is yet another sad commentary on our society. It’s like forming a circle and yelling “Fight! Fight! Fight!” while you encourage the two mommies to bite, scratch, and pull hair. It’s a dirty trick.

3) Are AP parents sometimes pretty militant about their parenting practices? OF COURSE. Think back for a moment to when you were a first-time parent and the things you felt were CRITICAL. (I know, it’s funny now, isn’t it?) How about calling to mind a first-time parenting couple you know (or knew because they don’t talk to you anymore) that were just…over-the-top. Those parents come in all shapes and sizes, but they are generally most pronounced with their first infant and are typically overbearing in every other part of their lives as well. We’ve all met someone like that – whether it has to do with where you go to church, how you educate, if you drink (or don’t), what you eat, and how you parent – if you aren’t aligned with their system they just can’t feel comfortable hanging out. They are the minority.

Have you ever read the Baby Wise books? They are the antithesis of the Dr. Sears books in every way. Baby Wise parents have a reputation of equal tenacity. I actually know several people who prescribe to Baby Wise philosophies and you know what? They are very nice. They still hang out with me despite the fact that my copy of the Sears’ “Baby Book” is too worn to even loan out. And our differently reared children like each other and get along just great. We even liked each other when our children were infants and theirs were on a tight schedule of crying in their crib and mine were strapped to my torso and offered my milk regardless of where we were or who else was in the room. I didn’t feel threatened or angry because they did it differently. I never assumed it was my responsibility to convert them to my way of parenting. Hell, I was far too busy questioning everything I was doing to find time to judge what they were doing. At the most I may have rolled my eyes (mentally) or voiced in private to my spouse “I could NEVER manage that.” I am certain they did the same things when we parted. But none of it was ever malicious, or made the assumption that we were better parents, or made us feel like we couldn’t be around one another. It just helped us find the right style of parenting for us.

And you know what else? Those Baby Wisers were just as tired and overwhelmed as I was. They were also as satisfied and confident as I was.

4) I’m a feminist. I was raised by a feminist. I cannot see how AP is anti-feminist. Here is a terrific article that does a great job of explaining just why second-generation feminists like me prescribe to AP parenting methods. Isn’t feminism is supposed to be about women having complete freedom to choose their paths in life without being restricted by stereotypes or societal pressure? There are AP families who maintain their parenting style with a stay-at-home dad and a full-time working mother. There are women like the gorgeous mother on the cover of this magazine who are going against what (evidently) most of society thinks is normal because it is right for her. THAT IS FEMINISM. She isn’t doing what she is told by society is the ‘right way’ to mother. And I find it offensive that the magazine is suggesting that feminists only support breasts that work for money. My breasts are powerful in more ways than one and it is against the very tenants of feminism to suggest that they can only fill the role of sexual pleasure. That is the most anti-feminist concept I’ve ever heard and only contributes to the objectification of women in our culture. There are entire books written about how breastfeeding and the natural parenting movement hurts the feminist movement and I find that concept critically narrow-minded. Extended breastfeeding (and natural parenting) gave me more freedom and success in my roles outside of motherhood, not less.

5) What hurts the feminist movement, the mothers movement, and underscores the very obvious fact that we aren’t living in a family-friendly society is the problem our culture is having with pigeon-holing. We suck about stereotyping. Guess what? There are Baby Wise families that come to La Leche League Meetings and successfully breastfeed their infants into toddlerhood despite the recommendations against it in the book. There are parents who use many AP-type methods (like me) and have a toddler that cries alone in their room while mommy or daddy holds the door shut and tries to figure out how to not beat the child for a few minutes despite what they have read. There are stay-at-home mothers, work-at-home mothers (raising my hand), work-outside-the-home mothers, and there are constantly overlooked fathers (!) in each of these places. There are different parenting techniques that work for all of them, there are different struggles for all of them, and there are different ways each family finds their path to the right place for them. It is the greatest flaw of human nature to assume that your way is the one right and best way and to insist, in every way, that others should and must do the same. Inflamitory language that you aren’t “mom enough” to parent in a certain way suggests not only that mothers who DO parent that way assume it is the right way for everyone else, but also that it is the hardest way. We are not dumbasses. If something isn’t working, we change it. We are all just doing our best, we mothers and fathers, no matter where we work or what method of parenting fits who we are and what we are hoping to achieve. And yes, I’m speaking for everybody. I never do that. But I’m fully confident that I represent every parents feelings when I say “We are all just doing our best.”

6) Creating a judgemental conversation contributes to the divide our entire culture is suffering from. I am absolutely dumbfounded that, not only are mothers (and families) judging one another, but all of society is busy pointing the finger at one another. You want more maternity leave (or paternity leave AT ALL) – In this economy?! You want better schools? Blame the teachers/government/parents/summer break/economy. You’re homeschooling? You are ruining your children (or flaunting your money and education, depending on who you ask). You want to get married to someone who is the same sex as you? That is a sin according MY religion. Oh, you don’t share my religious beliefs? That doesn’t matter – you still have to follow MY rules. Because WE ALL HAVE TO BE THE SAME AND MY WAY IS THE ONLY RIGHT WAY.

I spent this year homeschooling my kids in early American History. We devoted a great deal of time studying the American Revolution. I can’t imagine how the people who founded our country would feel about our current situation. Our government was based on everyone having the same rights – even if you were Catholic (they were going strait to hell) or *gasp* Jewish (they killed Jesus, there was a special seat next to Satan for them). But they received equal rights under the law (well, so long as you weren’t a woman or a slave). It was much harder for early Americans to figure out how to live with one another and give each other equal rights – their entire culture before winning independence was based on inequality, monarchy and forced religious obedience. Americans sought to change that – they did so by shedding their own blood, and choosing to give Protestants, Catholics, Baptists, Amish and Jewish people equality and protection of those rights under the law. Not by boycotting JC Penny (though I support the right of those offended to do so). They didn’t do it by forcing everyone to have the same health insurance or provide insurance that goes against their own beliefs (and I support the right of those who disagree with me to say so).

We are far from a perfect country and our early government was no utopia. American culture has been a constant chase for true liberty and real democracy. First came the rule of the people. Soon after the property ownership requirements for voting powers were knocked down by the rule of the people. The Civil War finally abolished slavery throughout our country, though it was a long and bloody conflict that began almost immediately after we won independence from England. Women’s suffrage, Civil rights, the right to divorce, the right to maintain contact with your children and the right to demand parental responsibility after a divorce, being accepted without a religious affiliation, inclusivity for the handicapped; we are constantly moving toward true equality. Liberty means making your own choices so long as they don’t infringe upon the liberties of anyone else.

I also believe that it involves a level of tolerance and refraining from judging those who aren’t applying their liberties in the same way as you.

Sometimes I see offensive pictures like this one:

Click the link above for the photo credit - this is a stock photo of someone not-so-famous.

This is me taking a page from Time Magazine. I’m going for shock value. What could I possibly find offensive about this photo? Do I think this mother is wrong or a terrible mother or not bonding with her baby? On the contrary. The mother looks happy and in love with her baby, the baby is darling and makes me want to make cooing sounds. What I find offensive is the reminder that in our competitive, intolerant and anti-family society a mother receives so little support and information about breastfeeding that she needs to give such a tiny baby a bottle, costing her time, money and confidence from perceived judgement (after all, the AAP and WHO recommend it for a minimum of a year!). I reserve my judgement for the current practice of the medical establishment. Doctors and Nurses are not well educated or qualified to help with breastfeeding even though they strongly recommend it, and it’s left new parents to swim against the tide of abysmal formula company practices that have allowed them to make money hand over fist for generations. I would never judge the mother – I know for a fact she is doing her best and loves her baby just as much as I love mine. Do I judge her health care providers? Not really. They care deeply about their patients and are doing the best they can with the information they have. Most mothers in America initiate breastfeeding, but at a very early point cannot continue – usually due to the erroneous information they have been given or societal pressure.

Do I judge the few moms who never even wanted to breastfeed? Nope. See all my comments about not infringing on or judging other people’s choices? My problem is with the lack of support for the majority of women who DO choose to breastfeed. What if she is taking one of the very few medications you can’t have while breastfeeding? Or has had surgery that severed her milk ducts? Do I suggest that this mother shouldn’t be allowed to bottle feed her baby in public because I find it offensive? Or that she shouldn’t be pictured on the cover of a magazine because I think it is morally wrong the way formula companies market their wares? Capitol N, Capitol O.

Do I judge the formula companies? Sorta, but all of society is focused only on money (Hello, some feminists only support boobs that work outside of the home) and these companies are working within the regulations the government has placed on them. Do I judge the government for the regulations they have made? Well, sorta but we are a government of the people, so that really means I’m blaming me.

So what do I do about that? I talk about breastfeeding a lot. I breastfed my babies in public (well, my second and third, anyway – I was pressured by society to never leave home the first time until my feminist side overcame my fears of being stereotyped or judged). I went to nurse-ins to protest unfair treatment of breastfeeding mothers. I volunteered for years with La Leche League. I write to people in government. I talk with my girlfriends about it. I talk with my baby sister about it so that if she becomes a mother one day she will be armed with good information. I blog about it.

I post pictures like this one, here and on Facebook, to help normalize the idea of breastfeeding and what it really looks like:

My husband posed and took this picture when my daughter was 27 months old. We continued to breastfeed long after this. I'm not telling you this so you'll think I'm special. I'm telling you this so you know it's normal.

So I guess I should be glad about the Time article, because it is going to stimulate conversation. I don’t appreciate that it is happening in such an inflammatory way, but then again this IS America. It’s how we roll. We make big changes in big ways, we love shock and we love breasts (raising hand again). I think we need to start a new movement in America – the Familist movement. I’ll do what works best for us, you do what works best for you, and we will all support one another by refraining from judgement, pressure or discrimination. Are you in?

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Tales of eleven…

Yep. That’s right. On April 5th I became the mother of an eleven-year-old. (It’s all about me, of course.)

This grand event was celebrated by going roller skating with his siblings and as many friends as we had extra seat belts in the van.

So cool.

Sometimes watching was as much fun as skating. The DJ even let the younger brother request a song for the birthday boy. It was the Duke’s of Hazzard Theme Song.

Just a good ol' boy...

Not much of a cake man, he asked for birthday doughnuts this year.

Please disregard all my healthy eating preaching earlier in this blog...

And he asked, in order to make it “really special,” if he could serve everyone off of my wedding dishes. These are beautiful pottery dishes thrown by a dear friend of mine, which we registered for in place of china for our wedding.

The taper candles were also his idea.

Of course, I said yes, and then told him what really makes it special is that we are celebrating him.

A Glimpse

Yesterday was a beautiful day in our part of the world. It is NOT normal to have a 63 degree day on the first of February where I come from.

We began our day with school work.

One of my students was a part of Washington’s Continental Army, as you can see.

Shooter was signed up to bring snacks to PSR in the evening, so he made brownies. Lucky for us he made a double batch – which is handy because (a) now we can eat brownies and (b) it gave him extra practice on converting fractions in order to double the recipe.

I did some ‘helping’ after Little Cowgirl was finished ‘picking up’ her room.

On our way home from phonics lessons and tae kwan do, we paid a visit to a friend.

I said a prayer, telling God we were full of sorrow because we miss Grandma, but full of happiness because she is with him in heaven, and full of thanks because she is no longer in the hospital suffering but is surrounded by God’s love and smiling down on us. I asked him to hear the prayers we held in our hearts.

When we left, my Little Cowgirl asked if it was alright to make up words to prayers. (I grew up Methodist, so this question comes as a surprise every time a little one asks me.) I told her that God is our friend and loves us, so we can talk to him in any way we are most comfortable. I said that sometimes it is nice to use words we have memorized when we can’t describe how we are feeling or just want to spend time with him, but we can also tell God anything, talk to him about anything, and use any words to say it. OR we can just think it – and God will listen.

The kids soaked up the best parts of the sun for a couple of hours before we headed into town for PSR class – playing revolution and (of course) farm.

We left 45 minutes early so I could drop by the bank, cleaners and Goodwill (I’ve been doing Flylady flinging!) before PSR began. The kids ate sack lunches (ravenously, I might add) and drained their water bottles. It was surreal to watch them walk into the school wearing T-shirts!

Tomorrow is our ‘slowest’ day of the week – no activities besides band at noon – and I’m going to encourage as much outside time as possible. According to the weather forecast we are supposed to actually have some *winter* beginning tomorrow. But yesterday was a beautiful day – in every kind of way.

Vocation

I was truly a frazzled nub by the end of the day yesterday.  We’ve all had days like that, where everything becomes overwhelming all at once and you feel like you are walking around with a piano on your chest and you know regardless of how awesome you are (humility is not my greatest virtue)…something is going to be forgotten and a ball (or two or three) will drop out of the lineup.

 

And I’m so thankful that, in the midst of it, I can still see clearly.  I am so thankful that I grew up in a house where people always came before things (Hi, Mom! *waving* Thank you!).  I’m so thankful that, in spite of exhaustion, it was actually the best thing for me to have children waking and needing me in the middle of the night.  It is my calling, God’s purpose for me on this earth, to love them.  My days of night-waking are, for the most part, over. (I know! I did say that out loud and I realize that every reader with a child under three just screamed silently in their head that I’m jinxing myself.) It was bittersweet to answer that call last night, and it fed my need to fill need.

 

It was being needed and able to give in such a simple way that has allowed me to wake today with fresh purpose and resolve.

Wisdom

Without dragging this out, I had to make an apology to my ten-year-old last night.  I asked his forgiveness and he told me of course he forgives me, and still loves me just as much.

 

I let him know that I appreciated how he understood that I’m just a regular person like anyone else, someone who does things wrong and makes mistakes and has to figure out how to fix them as best I can.

 

He said, “That’s okay, Mom.  We all make mistakes – we are all the same.”

 

Then he hugged me, and while he was holding me he said “And it’s nice that we are all different, too.”