Pass the potatoes, please

With both of my September births behind me, I feel a kind of relief, excitement, and a wave of something fresh in the air. The births were both beautiful, each in their own right. Both moms were strong and amazing, as each birthing woman is to me. I will forever be changed by these two little souls entering the world, as each before has changed me and each to follow will. I will not tell their stories here, because those stories do not belong to me to tell. But I am proud. And tired. :) But much more proud.

Birth always makes me think. Sometimes those thoughts are strange. But, hey, really strange thoughts are nothing new for me. These two births have made me realize something. I have gotten older. And with age, I have gotten wiser. Thank the beautiful Goddess I have finally gotten wiser. For the first time in a very long time I feel in control of myself and wise. I am fulfilled and content. Wow, imagine that.

Here's an analogy that came to me tonight that I'd like to share. People are like food. Some people are like the salad that is served before the meal. You pick at them for the pieces you like, the pieces that are good to you, and leave the rest. The salad doesn't ever fill you up, really it doesn't do anything at all for your hunger, and may even wind up only pissing you off.

Others are side dishes. They look pretty on your plate and usually even taste really good. But you are better off not having too much of them, or else you may not have room for the good stuff.

Then there's the people who are like dessert - amazingly tempting and wonderful in small quantities. You should always have dessert from time to time, by all means a little indulgence is a delicious thing, but too much can do you in.

Then...aaah then...there's the best part - the main course. The meat and potatoes to those of us Southerners. It fills you up, sustains you and gives you energy to continue until your next meal. These are the people that make life so wonderfully worth living.

It's nice to think I'm somebody's meat and potatoes.

To S & J, thank you for inviting me to share in such an amazing and intimate time in your lives. To Ezra & Wyatt, thank you for allowing me to welcome you the moment your souls entered this Earth. May your journey here be as worthwhile and fulfilling as you have helped mine to be.

Oh the woes of parenting

Recently I've become more and more aware of how quickly my baby girl is growing up. I mean I've watched her before, seen the clothes become too small in what feels like a day's time, watched her hair that started as shirly temple curls piled up on her head now reach in amazingly beautiful tendrils down her back, heard the talk about boys and friends at school. She's only 6 (seven in a little over a month) but the hardest part about not homeschooling is that the growing up happens so painfully quick.

I've recently accepted that I am in the very near future going to have to talk to her about female cycles. Little girls are starting their periods younger and younger and it is important to me that she hears correct information from home rather than from some other confused kid. All of this is part of the growing up.

So today after her nap she went to hug me and somehow my nose was level with her armpit and much to my horror I noticed an odor. Armpit smellies on my not-quite-seven-year-old daughter! Gasp! So I did some research and there are theories that sometimes it's what their eating (thanks Janet for the specific suggestions) or that this happens in overweight children (she isn't even close to being overweight lol). But mostly, the concensus is that this just happens sometimes. Doesn't seem to be an indicator of early puberty either. So I told her it was time to have nightly baths (we normally do every other night) and that she would need to start wearing deodorant. This, of course, she loves.

Then, to add to my sadness of how quickly she's growing, she decided to take her first ever alone shower. We just got the alone bathing down! But she did it and she was so proud.

I am so proud too. I want my children to grow up, really I do. I love the thought of watching them grow into independent beings and see who they turn out to be. Whoever that is, of course, I will have more pride in than imaginable. But this, this is the bittersweet part. Because as much as I want to watch them grow, nothing has ever hurt as bad as the letting go. And it starts when they're babies. We have to let go a centimeter at a time to let them walk, to let them make friends, to let them start school, to let them start visiting the friends they've made. Each little bit we let go is closer to independence and further from those days we could wrap them up and keep them protected from the big, wide world. For now, she's so small I fill her entire line of vision. I can conquer the world as far as she is concerned. And it's the now, that beautiful now, that I am going to relish in.

My idea of feminism...

I've read so many perceptions on feminism that are all about supposed female power. But this power is talked about to make women equal to, or sometimes better than, men. It is about equal rights, independence, and acceptance. The old adage of women can do anything men can do backwards and with heels on. Women think other women who choose to stay home and raise their children are weak because of these attitudes. We fought our way out of the home, out of the kitchen, why would we choose to be back there?

I don't see feminism in this way. To me, feminine power isn't about voting, equal pay, power positions, and business meetings. Feminism is about exactly that: the feminine. The possession of a womb. The power of giving life.

Women are the only ones who possess that ability. Men were afraid of that, the mystery of the womb they didn't understand. The place in our bodies that cultivates life. The empty space that gives way to a man's greatest pleasure: our cunts. They didn't understand these spaces. They didn't understand the processes that in our bodies miracously take place month in and out. This unknown, this fear, is what forced us into the home. This is why we had to fight our way out.

Long, long ago; long before our societies were formed; women were in power. We were revered. Our cunts were literally worshipped and we were the leaders. Women taught spiritual matters, which were interwoven with sexual matters. Girl power had a whole new meaning.

I love being a women. I am thankful for a Creator who chose to instill those abilities of the feminine with us. It is this version of feminism I wish more of us could accept. Rather than seek out acceptance in spite of not owning a penis, demand respect because of our cunts. Demand that soctiety and doctors and husbands and fathers revere us BECAUSE we can give life. Whether we choose to use that ability, or for whatever reason that ability is no longer ours, we are feminine. That feminism means the ability is ours, all of ours, innately. And the power that comes with it is inalienable. As long as we don't allow it to be alienated.

It's all about me...

So Happy Labor Day.

We spent the day with friends and our kiddos. I was sitting her thinking, just now, that I'm not entirely sure I even know what Labor Day is about. I mean, unlike my daughter, I knew it wasn't about Jesus. But, not exactly sure on the whole meaning. So I looked it up. Turns out I did know what it is about. Not that difficult to figure out actually.

Of course, to those of us with children "Labor Day" means something completely different. And ever since giving birth, especially naturally, I can't help but think of Labor Day that way. As if everyone should be celebrating me and the mighty power of my uterus. I'd like a special federal holiday declared for that if it's not too much trouble.

I think I will go eat cake now and celebrate my uterus. Anyone care to join me?