Baby Expos ain't for the baby anymore

This past Friday and Saturday I was at he Baby Day Expo, selling HugaMonkey baby slings to mommas of all kinds. As far as paying jobs go, this really is the best. Not only do I do it maybe for 1-2 weekends a year, but it is so rewarding. I get to see these mothers at their wits end carrying around their kids, not knowing that there is such a simple solution out there. They try them on and put their baby in and you can see it in their face, that *wow* thought. That's the part I love. Plus I usually get to do it with a great friend or two, and that helps to pass the time away.

So, like I said, I was at the Baby Day Expo. I didn't get much of a chance to look around, but it was much as you'd expect. Lots of tutu's, flowered headbands, car seat covers and sassy burp cloths. There was a sleep expert, a food expert, a car seat expert, and if you want to count me, a sling expert. There were actually a couple of sling companies there, but we did pretty good business considering our competition was 30 feet away.

The part I hate the most? The plastic surgeon at the baby expo. With a huge sign that has smooth tummies and perky breasts he didn't even have to tell these momma's what he thought of their life choice, he just automatically assumed these women would want and/or need his help. IT was very vindicating to see his booth empty for the majority of the time, though.

The popularity at the mommy corset booth had me worried though.

When did motherhood stop being good enough? Why do we have to be skinnier, shinier, our kids fancier, just to be considered adequate? The running joke between my and my friend working the booth with me was if you were to judge me as a mother based on the physical appearance of my kids, lock me and throw away the key. Messy faces, fuzzy hair, dirty clothes, and big happy smiles.

Being a mother is hard enough. Feeling good about yourself is hard enough. But we have somehow added in the stipulation that to succeed your child now must be the best dressed with the best hair, and if they're not, you fail. I just spent two whole days watching women go into a spending frenzy to prove how good of a mother they are. I overheard one woman say "It sucks to have boys, you can't dress them as cute, and it's no fun!" It made me heartsick.

I want to raise children that will change the world, not children that will worry if their hair looks okay. I want to raise children that think for themselves, not children that want to look exactly like all of their peers. I want to raise children that could care less about the latest fad and care more about the latest politics. Motherhood isn't about raising the coolest kids, it is about raising the next generation, making people that will do better than we did. It's not a contest with other women, no one will be the winner in the end. If we compete against each other in this arena, the kids will lose. And then no one will win.

Does your toddler care if their fauxhawk isn't as spiky as the other kids in his playgroup? Does your 12 month old cry herself to sleep because the flower on her headband is smaller than the girl next door? Do these kids care that they aren't in the latest trends, or do they care that the only time their momma spends with them is to get them dressed up and then to admonish them not to mess up their outfit. If I had a nickel for every time a momma got exasperated this weekend when her little kid pulled on their shirt, pulled of their headband/bracelet/necklace, or dislodged their mini clip-on tie, I'd be a rich woman. And that makes me sad.

Maybe it's some form of radical parenting, maybe I'm in the minority, but to me, being a mom has nothing to do with how my kids look. I understand that little babies who wear mini adult clothes look adorable, but that can't be how we judge our competency as mothers. There's more to it. Take a couple days, let your kids run around the house naked. Don't brush their hair, and only wash their face when it becomes necessary for their health. Devote all that extra time and money toward what they want. Let them call the shots, and see how it changes your life.

A nice change

today I feel like a grown up. Like a responsible grown up.

Maybe it has something to do with the nifty cardigan I'm wearing. Only real grown ups wear cardigans. Maybe it has to do with getting fully dressed this morning, and then making breakfast for my family. Maybe it's the large and sassy bun on the top of my head. Maybe it's because I have pumpkins on my porch, and really good homemakers always have seasonal decorations up. Maybe it's because one of my favorite skirts fits better today than it did the last time I wore it. Maybe it's because my house is mostly clean.

Whatever it is, I like the way it makes me feel.

because I can

Since this is my blog I am just going to post nonsense. I have seriously been updating my facebook status every hour all day, and since I feel like a loser for such, I will just put all thoughts here. Are you ready?

• There's crap clogging my vacuum hose, and I can't get it out. But it's just proof that I've actually accomplished something today.
• Judging by all the status updates on facebook, it seems like almost every mom I know is having one of those days.
• Sometimes it seems easier to just stay fat and wear the same outfit for the rest of my life than try to eat less and move more. Seriously, there's a reason why obesity is on the rise.
• I must update my Itunes playlists. I have India Arie, Beyonce and Red Hot Chili Peppers all in the same playlist and it is not a good thing.
• Last week, one of Paul's friends was over playing. They were just sitting down to a bowl of cereal when his Grandma came over to bring him home. Instead of letting him finish and then have me send him across the street, she pushed past me in the door and commandeered my couch. Then she proceeded to alternately tell me how dirty my house was and talk to her grandson in Spanish for the next 10 minutes while the boys ate. And all of this in a broken English "bless her heart' kind of way. It super bugged me.
• Beau is pooping like 8 times a day, and that's not an exaggeration. I don't know what's going on with him, but for the past couple of weeks, he's pooped every hour, and just a bit, but enough that he needs to be changed constantly. He's like a newborn again, without the blowouts.
• Bigpoppa is taking this marriage and family class (he needed the credit) and he has some of the stupidest people in that class. The stuff he comes home and tells me, it makes me want to go back to school just so that I can give those people a piece of my mind.
• I had a friend from high school come visit a couple weeks ago, and we had absolutely nothing to talk about because we read each others blogs. There was nothing to catch up on, it had all already been typed up. It made me think...
• I get pissed really easy now, and I don't think that's a good thing.
• How do I kindly tell my husband, "Honey, I know you have a bunch of text books and notebooks and papers and folders and stuff, BUT THEY DO NOT GO ON MY SEWING TABLE!!" ?
• I hate my minivan. I really want something with a little more substance to it. And seriously, lilac-purple? Can't I even have a mini-van with a sassy color? How about red, or black?
• I cut 6 inches off my hair. I like it, but miss the notoriety that comes with being 'that girl with the hair'.
• How come when I have money to spend I can't think of anything that's worth spending it on, but when we're flat broke, I have a whole list of stuff I want?
• I need to go see a good movie, any suggestions?

It's been one of those months

Sorry to have left you hanging. And now I find myself in one of those awkward positions of having to write one of those "i haven't blogged in forever!" posts. Which seem pointless to me, unless someone actually starts blogging again, instead of just saying you haven't blogged in a while.

Anyway...

Life has been tough lately. My kids are needy and clingy, I went through something of a personal crisis, my house is constantly a mess and I find myself not caring/getting really angry about it. It has just not been easy lately.

And to top it all off, I have lost the will to blog. When I started blogging I wanted to do it for the attention, and to raise awareness for the things I love. When I had posted most of the info on home birth and breastfeeding that I has initially wanted to, that just left the posts to feed my ego. With my recent re-birth of personality, I just find myself not caring anymore. Oh sure, it's fun to know that people care, that people agree, that people like you. But now that's just not a priority anymore. Don't get me wrong, I still want to be that entertainer, but the urge is just not that strong anymore.

Maybe it has something to do with the fact that my 2 year old won't sleep unless I"m in bed with him, which would be great, if I didn't have 2 other kids to take care of, a house to clean, and no good books to read while I lay there. Maybe it's the fact that I haven't run for the last couple of days. The weather got chilly, and running in it hurt my throat. Plus the horrible pain in my knees and shins was hard to ignore. Maybe it's because... I don't know, I really don't. I went through a phase where my life was really iffy. And I don't mean my literal life, but my emotional/spiritual/mental life. I've come through the toughest part of that battle a little scarred, and definitely changed.

I found myself wondering if I was how I was because that's what I really wanted or if it was what I thought other people expected of me. Sometimes I do that, and I don't even realize I've done it. Every couple of years or so I make the slow journey back to who I really am.

So I can't promise anything for the future, not anything regular, as far as this blog goes. I find it easier to update the kids stuff, because you can always count on antics from them.

Wish me luck on my journey. I need to find some courage and endorphins to make it happen.

See? It can happen!

I got the news that one of my friends had delivered her twins.

Breech.

Full Term.

Both over 6 pounds.

AT HOME!!

I feel at time it's easy for me to get jaded to birth stories because I come across so many. But this story is just amazing. The wonder of a woman's body! My friend barely tops five feet and near the end of her pregnancy she had to lean back just to avoid falling over. And then her 2 little boys decide to make an entrance into the world and it goes the way every birth should. Smoothly! Wonderfully!

How awesome is life folks? How awesome we we as women to have bodies capable of such power? She is now the momma to 3 girls and twin boys. She laughed when she told me how she is learning to nurse both babies at the same time.

It's a miracle of life I tell you! Rejoice!

Why I'm fat

I had a pan of brownies for lunch, and I've been in bed all morning with a cranky toddler.

Adventures in 'running'

I think running needs its own label now, don't you?

And don't worry, this WILL NOT turn into a running blog, whoever heard of a running hippie? I mean, I'm sure they're out there, but I am not one of those hippies.

So, this morning I drag myself out of bed, hoping the endorphins make it worth my while. I pull on my sexy sports bra (it has zebra stripes) and my running pants and rummage through the pile of shoes at the front door until I find the ones I use to exercise. Kiss the husband good-bye (no nightstick this time!) and head out the door.

The thing about today is I woke up late, but since it's Saturday, I can still go out because Bigpoppa has nowhere to go.

What I love about getting up at the crack of dawn to go 'running' is the anonymity of it. No one else in their right mind is out running the trail that early. I can run and look goofy and stop to dry-heave all without anyone seeing me.

The bad thing about today was that I went out at 8:30. That may seem super early for a Saturday, but not this little chicky, I swear the trail was full, and the things that happen when the trail is full...

• Usually when I pass someone on the trail I try and make eye contact and give a smile and a nod, sometimes a good morning. I think it's neighborly. I look up to see a runner coming at me and if I see they're not obviously trying to ignore me, then I smile and acknowledge them. This morning there were a few people like me, just trying to remain invisible, some were too busy trying to breathe to return the greeting. But there was one guy, one guy with a very cute smile. He was wearing the little running shorts, which makes him a pro in my book. If you're a novice runner, you just don't up and buy a pair of shorts like that. I was a little embarrassed that such a pro would see me out in all my big girl glory, huffing my way down the trail, but he lit up like he knew me. That smile from that cute pro runner gave me a little extra bounce in my step, and I was able to keep on keepin on.
• Then I passed the Spaniard (obviously not Latino, but definitely European) who was flirting on his cell phone. WHILE HE JOGGED. I don't understand it. First of all, who has the breath to talk on the phone while they're running? Second, who flirts while they're jogging? Now, I don't speak Spanish, but by the tone of his seductive voice I would feel very uncomfortable if he was just chatting it up with one of his buddies.
• A little while after the Spaniard, I look up to see 2 guys coming at me on the trail. They're in the aforementioned pro shorts, and without shirts. These boys are a little too wiry for me, but I can appreciate a well toned body, even if it is as big as my thigh. I look down again so it won't seem like I'm staring, and what do I see when I look back up? 9 MORE!!! That's right, the entire track team of the university goes out running on the trail by my house, topless, glistening, on Saturday mornings. If there's more than one, who do I look at to give my cheery greeting? I pass the first two and make enough eye contact to smile and nod, but there were too many in the second group to try and pick one out without seeming like I was a starving man at a buffet. So I ignored them, the obvious ignore, the one where I stare at my feet or the trees ahead of me like they are more interesting than the half dozen semi-nude college boys in front of me. They parted like the Red Sea the closer I came. Maybe they were afraid of getting whipped like one of my long braids as they zoomed past, maybe they were just trying to be courteous to give me the trail. But being Moses has never been more uncomfortable.

And now as I sit here and cool down, I'm getting reacquainted with my old buddies. Shin splints and tendinitis. High School volleyball was not kind to me.

And now after writing all that about nude, cute, seductive voiced men, I'm off to find my husband before the kids wake up.