Blog a la Cart

Month: October, 2012

The Ellipse

WARNING: The following post contains discussion about menstruation. In addition to being a topic that effects, has effected, and will effect more than half the population, it is definitely not a foreign topic for readers of this blog. However, I understand that many are still quite uncomfortable when I discuss womanly bodily fluids, so navigate away… now… quickly, before I go into graphic detail about the crime scenes I’ve been staging in my bathroom ever since I stopped breastfeeding.

Oh, and maybe put that sandwich down.

Now that I’ve cleared the room, let me start by saying WHAT IN GOD(DES)S’ NAME HAPPENED TO MY BODY AFTER I BIRTHED BABY NUMBER TWO? My cycle has gone from a period to an ellipse. I’m now an easy prop for a horror movie, what with my ability to expel enough blood monthly to recreate the Carrie prom scene on the regular. Substitute the slaughtered pig for my Aunt Flow.

The spirit of Halloween is clearly impacting my metaphors. And, wow, even I’m grossing myself out. It’s THAT bad, people.

Ever since I stopped breastfeeding Courtland, I’ve been horrified by the amount of effort, worry, and proactive and abundant cotton I’ve required to manage this monthly event. Day two and three are the worst, and I would rather spend those two days rocking the postpartum mesh undies and hospital padding than attempt to control the flow with the laywoman’s drug store stock. I sleep on ratty dog towels at night for fear of destroying our mattress due to inadequate protection. I BUY THE SUPER FLOW GOODS! I DOUBLE BAG IT (tampon+pad)! I even tried to reintroduce the Diva Cup, but that left me literally up to my elbows in evidence of my overactive cycle and poor menstraul management skills.

What. The. Flow?

I am begging – nay pleading with – my female comrades to share any pearls of wisdom on how to remediate this situation. I’ve talked with my midwife and I am hoping to give the Mirena 5-year IUD a go (assuming it’s covered by my health insurance. Verdict forthcoming!). I no longer want to have to think about birth control when the mood strikes, and I certainly don’t want to go back to having to think about it daily by using the pill – and, best of all, this IUD claims to “treat heavy periods.”

Oh please let it treat heavy periods! I can’t help it if I have a heavy flow!

Have any of you used Mirena? Thoughts? War stories? Any other ideas for remedying this new female milestone I’ve confronted? Any fellow postpartum mamas with a similar tale?

Every month, while I’m striking The Captain’s pose to avoid living out my 13 year year old nightmare of wandering around with stained, spotted clothing, I’m reminded that my male colleagues don’t have to waste their time worrying about this shit before a staff meeting.

One more hurdle for women and one more pass for men. And yet, one more reason why women excel in the multitasking front. WE ARE SUPERHEROES WITH ABUNDANT COTTON PROTECTIVE SUITS! Hoo-rah!

That’s what Twitter said // 2

First, let me say that I love that during last night’s debate, my one political post on the blog’s Facebook Page only cost me one “like.”

YOU GUYS! *bigmushyliberalhug*

Second, be sure to check out last week’s round up if you find yourself chuckling at this. I sure did.

Currently Quoting

Reader Katie shared this quote with me in response to my post about leaving Facebook. It’s been bouncing around my brain ever since. An important reminder, yes?

Confidence

“I miss you so so so much.”

She says this, unprompted, with the sing- songy enthusiasm and authenticity reflective of her three years of life. It’s unbridled. Innocent. And so sweet that I feel my face melt into an involuntary smile.

I observe her as she shares the highlights of her day. I witness the impact of his face on her storytelling. There’s no hint of shyness. A finger never enters her mouth out of discomfort. She speaks clearly and with great detail. No awkward babbling or whispers. No signs of bashfulness or self-consciousness. I don’t have to remind her to use her words, or make eye contact, or remove her hands from her mouth so that we can understand what she’s saying. There’s no need for prompting or coaxing.

The words come effortlessly. The stories unfold in great detail, with true glimpses of how she experiences the world. What resonates and impacts her is apparent and I’m left speechless by the cleverness of her thoughts, the skilled storytelling of our day.

That is the effect of a father’s love.

And neither of them have any idea how remarkable it feels to catch a glimpse of a confident woman in process. Nor do they have any idea how lucky they are, how lucky I know I am, in that moment, and forever.

Homemade Halloween

This weekend, Sunny and I embarked on a number of Halloween crafts. Before I share our latest creations, I thought I’d remind everyone of these DIYs of Halloweens past. Follow the links below to see the full step-by-step tutorials.

Make ’em: 1. Pumpkin Vases; 2. Lace Pumpkins; 3. Button Spiders; 4. Glitter Pumpkins ; 5. Yarn Spiderweb ; 6. Embroidered Pumpkins

Pumpkin Patch

I’m two days into this solo parenting gig, and, so far, everyone’s still breathing. I call that a win.

There has been a urine flood, some plastic toy destruction, and a run to the grocery store without my wallet (which was only realized after check out. Oof). Also, my favorite hen, Bunty, is apparently staging a protest against the coop. Every evening I’ve found her hanging out in the rafters of our hay loft, rather than in the coop with her flock. I don’t know how to get her to resume her loyalty to the coop. I’ve spent the past two nights racing around the hay loft after a flapping, squawking, disgruntled bird while the girls roam around our fenced in yard discovering every poop mine the dogs have laid. Dignity, folks. It goes out the window the moment you squeeze a person out of your vagina. If not during the maternity induced flatulence. But I honestly never thought I’d reach chicken chasing lows.

On the upside, we did make it to our local pumpkin patch, and I even documented the adventures.

Of late, I’ve been shooting with the Canon 7D but pulled out our little Rebel XTI and the cheap, but brilliant, Canon 50mm f/1.8 (seriously, this a $100 lens and worth every penny. Can’t go wrong with the Nifty Fifty. I use it pretty much exclusively. The Canon 50mm f/1.4 is my latest jam). ANYWAY, it was a lovely reminder that if you know what you’re doing behind the camera, the equipment isn’t nearly as important. I’ve been really working on improving my photography skills (thanks to some schooling with my girl, Kate) and now only shoot in manual mode. It’s a big step for me and exciting to look back over the past couple years and physically see the improvement.

My favorite part of the pumpkin patch adventure had to be Courtland’s absolute adoration and obsession with the pumpkins. The girl would coo aggressively at each orange orb, then wrap her little arms around a pumpkin in enthusiasm, and then grunt and groan and strain to try to lift the weight of the giant gourd. It happened over and over again and always with an enormous, Jack-o-lantern grin painted across her face.

The wagon was also quite the hit. And Sunny demonstrated her big sister skills by lugging the wagon and pumpkins around the patch. She has been my little helper all weekend and I am so proud of the sweet, thoughtful person she’s becoming. It makes her (tired, lonely, adult-conversation-deprived) Mama proud. And helps ease some of the aforementioned feelings of self-pity. In fact, we’ve had nightly slumber parties to keep one another company. Or mostly to keep ME company as she is quite accustomed to sleeping alone. Ah, what would I do without my girls? Certainly I would never master the Katniss side braid (see Sunny for proof).

Jamescapes // 3

I love nighttime stars. Ashley can vouch that I was almost an astrophysics major. She can also vouch that I tell far too many people that fact and that she’s told me to shut up about it several times.  Here’s a little twist on our landscape — what the farm looks like at night.

1. Hex sign at midnight

2. Tree next to the playground

3. Warm cottage; cold night. See the big dipper?

4. Looking up from our front stairs.

5. Doesn’t even look real – but it is. That’s The Milky Way lighting it up like it’s 2pm….and some really long exposures so you can see the traces of the stars moving.

Around the Farm // 12

Apparently I didn’t take any photos this week save this one image of Sunny’s lovely blueberry eyes.

It was a weird week. A wonderful one on the blog, with a well-received style post, some thoughtful discussion on a women’s right to choose, a hilarious Twitter round up, and a great dialogue about Facebook. And yet, IRL I had an experience that really changed my perception of some people. It’s always challenging to have one’s world view disrupted, and I’ve been struggling with that over the past 48 hours.

Tomorrow, James leaves for a conference in Portland, Maine, so until Wednesday, I’ll be rocking life as the only “responsible” adult on the farm. If posting is light, you can assume it’s because the chickens have staged a coup and are holding me and the girls hostage.

I will say that I have so enjoyed all of the comments and emails that were generated by this week’s posts. I cannot properly describe the joy I feel every time one of you amazingly thoughtful people reaches out and responds to something that I’ve put out into the world. I want to produce content that inspires you to respond more and more, as it is the most fulfilling element to this space. And I want you to know how very much it means to me whenever you do choose to reach out. So please, if you feel so moved, talk back. I love it. Love love love it.

So long, Facebook.

I have bid adieu to my personal Facebook account. It’s something I’ve been considering doing for awhile now, and, in fact, it is something I did for a few months during my pregnancy with Addison. It felt odd, at that time, to be an expecting parent and on Facebook. Facebook was this thing that I did in college, and somehow stepping over the threshold into motherhood made me feel as though I had moved passed that stage. But as Facebook evolved and I experienced intense loneliness in my days as a new mom living 3,000 miles from my family and closest friends, I reactivated my account.

But recently I’ve been feeling, well, shitty, every time I open my Facebook wall. Perhaps it’s my own burning insecurities, but the stupidest, silliest things were making me feel “less than,” jealous, and inadequate. I shouldn’t be surprised. I’d read this study about Facebook’s impact on happiness back when it was published in 2011. Essentially, people that spend lots of time on Facebook (i.e. moi) looking at their “happy” “friends” are unhappy. Big shocker there.

I was experiencing petty, childish thoughts like, “Why did that person like her post but not mine?” Or, “How come she had so many comments when her baby was born?” Or, “Why do I have to look at yet ANOTHER picture of that person’s engagement ring/ vacation on an exotic island/ baby/ wedding/ marathon/ dog/ food/ insert positive life experience here?”

Pot. Kettle. Black. I know. I have an entire BLOG with pictures and stories about every little detail of my life. But somehow, this space feels different. People opt to come here and know that they’ll be inundated with that kind of one-sided, Ashley-centric view. And while yes, you could argue that you determine your own Facebook stream by controlling who you are friends with, etc., the slew of images of engagement rings, and baby photos, and plates of food, and marathon running updates feels forced and icky when constantly bombarding your wall. At least that’s how it made me feel. And there was just no need for it. And because I know I lack the self control to A. visit less frequently and B. not get sucked into the black hole that is Facebook when I did visit, I needed to go cold turkey.

Call me insecure. Or overly sensitive. Or no longer hip with the times. But I’ll be here, happily basking in the glow of my sun lamp and my Facebook-free existence. Which, is really a half truth, as I’m keeping the page for the blog, but that, much like the blog itself, is horribly one-sided and not so insecurity-inducing.

And so I ask you this, because I really would love to know – Do you use Facebook and if so, have you ever experienced these emotions or thoughts? How have you managed them? Why do you have a personal Facebook account and how often do you visit it? What are the chances that I won’t cave and reactivate my account tomorrow when I suddenly have a three hour void in my day from all the appalling, habituated time I used to spend in that space? And, of course, if you don’t use it, did you ever? What made you leave? How’s life on the other side?

I’d love to hear from you. And I promise it won’t make me seethe with irrational jealousy. Probably.

Response to Anti-Choice Vitriol

Thank you to reader Suzy for providing such a level-headed, honest, rational response to the most recent anti-choice rant that made its way into the comments of Blog a la Cart:

Let’s talk about the abortion debate after you’ve directed all that passion and conviction towards fixing our overwhelmed fostercare system. Use a bit of that outrage to advocate for the rights of abused and neglected children, instead of future children… because all dem babies turn into children. Put some of that passion behind equal pay for women, because then maybe they could afford to bring an unplanned pregnancy into this world. Fight for a better education system so these future women (and men) have more opportunities, and don’t end up stuck between a rock and an abortion clinic. Fight for sex education and access to birth control. Focus all that passion and righteousness towards advocating for all the puzzle pieces that would make abortion a non-issue. I LOVE babies. I also love healthy happy families, happy mothers, fathers, and children. Life is so much more than the act of being born.