Going Full Hippie

8 years: A Love Story

2011-06-21T15:36:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time.

There was a man. This man was a Big Man. He was taller than other men. He was broader than other men. He was thicker than other men. He was heavier than other men. He was a Big Man in every way.

This Big Man liked order. He liked simplicity. This Big Man liked straight lines and neat equations. He liked the expected and normal things.

Elsewhere, in this Big Mans world, there lived an Average Girl. The Average Girl was a girl just like any other girl. She was of average beauty. She was of average intelligence. The Average Girl had an average talent and came from an average family. The Average Girl was loved with an average love, and loved others with her own average love. The Average Girl acted and thought and was just like everyone else around her.

But the Average Girl had a secret. Deep down, in a quiet place of her heart that she was barely aware of, she craved all things unaverage. She craved bright colors. She craved loud noises. The Average Girl craved tall trees and fast water.

One day the path of the Big Man crossed the path of the Average Girl. Their meeting was amicable and friendly. When the Big Man met the Average Girl, he saw her as everyone else saw her. She was a girl of average beauty. A girl of average intelligence. A girl of average talent.
But the Average Girl saw the Big Man as something more. When she saw the Big Man she saw more than a man taller than others, broader than others or wider than others. The Average Girl saw in the Big Man her own bright colors, loud noises, tall trees and fast water. He was the one that would release the desires of her heart.

Over time, the big man began to see glimpses of something other in the Average Girl. He would see a flash of color, or a crash of sound. But they were muted, and distant, and he gave them little more than a passing thought.

Eventually the Big Man and the Average Girl parted ways. Their leaving was amicable and friendly. Sometimes a letter was written, or a conversation was had. The years floated past and the Big Man and the Average Girl moved on in their lives and they began to forget each other.

Years went past and the Average girl began to remember. She began to remember the Big Man and his quiet, neat ways. She remember the way the colors jumped inside of her when he was near, the way the noises sang louder. So she began to search for the Big Man. She looked, and asked and searched. Then she waited. And then she looked and searched and asked some more.

One day, one day, the Average Girl found the Big Man, and she arranged a meeting. The day came, and he was there in a room, waiting for her. She saw him, and time slowed down as if the wind had frozen. He stood up from his chair, and she was reminded of how big this Big Man was. And the colors inside of her were bright, and the noises we're loud, the trees were tall and the waters fast at the sight of him.

And when the Big Man saw the Average Girl enter the room, he didn't see the Average Girl he expected. He saw turquoise. He saw thunder and lightning. He saw lemon yellow and swollen rivers. The Big Man saw great forests and rushing clouds. He saw in the Average Girl everything she had ever wanted to be.

So the Big Man made the Not So Average Woman his bride. And he loved her with a big love. And she loved him with mountains and magenta and red clay.

And they both lived happily ever after.

Late night ramblings

2011-06-15T23:40:00.001-07:00

It's 12:34 am.

Jake is asleep on one side of me and Beau Boy is wide awake on the other side. He keeps asking me what I'm spelling. We are sharing one blanket and he keeps kicking it off because he's totally not sleepy. A five hour nap will do that to a kid.

I had an extremely large pile of clothes on my bed this afternoon and when I finally worked up the courage to out them all away I realized how few of them I actually wear. But I can't bring myself to give any of it away. Plus I remembered how many awesome skirts I have. Yay for sweet, big hippie skirts!

I have one pair of pants that I wear, but I only wear them when I'm getting dressed up to go somewhere. My Fancy Pants. Literally. I wear them with heels and instantly feel glamorous, and it confuses people that to get dressed up I put on pants. But when skirts are your jeans, jeans become a dress.

My fabulous sister took some sweet pictures of my little family last week. I'm loving this one

But the ones of my kids are even cuter. Check them out Here .

I still haven't washed my hair from when we took these, and, oh yes, I cut my hair. I have a whole post working up on that, but I've got to dig out some awesome vintage pictures. Patience is a virtue.

I had cupcakes for lunch today, but I scraped all the frosting off first. Is a naked cupcake still considered a cupcake, or is a little bit more of a muffin now?

Beau has wandered off into the depths of the dark house, the only one with enough energy to still be wide awake. Poor guy.

It's now 12:44am.

Earrings: good; Shaving: not so much

2011-06-06T20:50:00.000-07:00

I shaved my armpits about a week ago. It was a whim. It was kind of nice at first, but now I"m kind of over it. It's not like shaving my armpits has made my husband love me more, or given me more patience with my children, or encouraged me to vacuum. Shaving my armpits hasn't made me smarter or skinnier. It hasn't really changed a whole lot, except that they're itchy now. Not exactly an improvement.

I have an earring collection of ginormous proportions. Seriously. My earring rack is completely full and now I have neat little piles on my dresser so as not to lose or tangle a set. Plus I take all my other pairs off in random places like the kitchen or the bathroom, so I actually have another third of earrings that I don't see often. But you know the weird thing about this earring collection? It seems I can never find just the right pair to wear with my outfit. It would go something like this:

"hmm, well my skirt is red, but I'm really feeling these orange earrings today, do I have anything clean that would work with the orange ones? No, not really. Hmm, well, the blue ones are nice, but no, I really want to wear the orange ones, but I don't want to change out of this awesome, twirly, ginormous red skirt."

So what do I do? I wear the orange earrings with the red skirt. Wearing orange earrings with a red skirt doesn't make me any skinnier, or smarter or patient, but it makes me happier, and that seems to be the most important. So the next time you see me, if my earrings have absolutely nothing to do with my outfit, now you will know why.

Why I deleted my Facebook account

2011-05-22T16:29:00.001-07:00

I like to think of myself as a clever person. Funny. Hilarious, even.

So when I sat down on Facebook I usually found myself putting something witty in the status line.

It has been discovered that dishes are actually an alien race sent to take over the population of planet Earth.

Paul is running around with underwear on his head. He gets that from me.

I'm having an affair with cream cheese. Please, no one tell my husband.

But then something happened.

I didn't feel funny anymore.

Now I just felt like a desperate comedian telling just one more joke hoping this one gets a laugh. Was this something my friends even wanted to hear? Or did they want to know what I was having for dinner and if Beau just peed in his pants? It came down to a philosophical discussion with myself about what an appropriate facebook status update was. And that's when I realized

I'm giving this thing too much of my life

Seriously, why was this one website consuming my every thought. I'd be standing at the sink, up to my elbows in dirty dish water, writing and re-writing in my head my next funny status. I'd be having a beautiful moment with my kids and be thinking 'I should put this as my status' .

And don't even get me started on the hours I would sit in front of the computer refreshing and rechecking my homepage to see if anyone has posted something new. New pictures of their kids, new pictures of their house, vacation, party, dog, grandma, shoes. Seriously, why do I care?

Now, Facebook does have its uses. I loved being able to find old friends from high-school. People I barely talked to then are now informing me of their trips to the grocery store, the job their husband got and the name of their new puppy.

Eventually I came to the conclusion that Facebook, for me, was just a form of validation. I wanted people to comment on my posts, or at the very least 'like' them. I wanted oohs and aahs over every picture of my sainted children. But why do I need other people to tell me how awesome I am? Why do I feel that I'm not good enough unless people tell me so?

This post just got deep, and it's about facebook. Kill me, kill me now. Jeesh!

And I don't want to come off as some kind of anti-social witch. I really did enjoy seeing where people are now. I really did enjoy seeing pictures of someones new baby. I really did enjoy hearing of my friends now with kids and spouses. Those things make me happy. Really.

It is very possible that someday in the future, I will reactivate my account. I do miss all the obscure yet totally awesome news articles that one of my friends would always post. And there is a certain acquaintance from high school that always cracked me up. So and so is expecting a baby and I want to see pictures, not to mention pictures from that girls wedding.

They say all things in moderation, and if Facebook was a snowy, cold season, I'd tell you that I'm enjoying the sun now and getting a nice ,golden tan.

An impulsive spirit

2011-05-19T19:05:00.001-07:00

Today goes on day three of having an eye twitch.

It's enough to drive a woman crazy.

I doused myself in essential oils yesterday to try and get it to go away. I put on lavender to relax the muscle, peppermint and lemon to try and wake me up, I had on a muscle relaxing blend as well as a bit of Ylang Ylang for good measure. It worked for about an hour. I smelled like a true hippie, though.

I also wore a dress with a pair of gaucho pants and several long necklaces. A big fat sweater to combat the rocky mountain spring couldn't hide the awesomeness of it all.

I went running in the rain. Sometimes it feels good to do something totally irrational, like go outside barefoot in 50 degree weather and get soaked and enjoy every minute of it.

La

2011-01-22T22:36:00.000-08:00

Yikes! 6 months? That's all I'm gonna say. And sorry.

So. Where do we start? This feels like the time that an old high school friend and I got together but we had nothing to say because we facebook/blog stalked each other and had nothing new to say because we aren't that close, but are friends. This just feels awkward, ya know?

I've decided that I don't want to change the world. Well, if the opportunity presented itself, sure, I'd take it and wrap it in a tortilla and smother it with sour cream and melted sharp cheddar, but that's not my priority anymore. I've decided that the most important thing that I can do right now with my life is to raise kids who will change the world. And if by accident I cause some waves in the process, cool.

I have three kids. No babies, no toddlers. I am officially in the raising stage. Now I shape them into the adolescents that will shape the adults they will become. And the thought scares the crap out of me. What if I mess up? What if I raise strong kids, but they're strong for all the wrong reasons? What if I'm too strong and in the process make them weak? I've had countless discussions with Bigpoppa about how to raise strong kids. I don't feel that I am who I am today because of how I was raised, or because of something specific that my parents taught me. Most of me today is just me through eternity. I will swear without a doubt that my parents molded me for the better, but I am vastly different than my siblings, and we were all raised the same. I am me, an no amount of teaching will change that. What do I do if I have a kid who is inherently someone I would dislike?

Now, let me be the first to tell you that my kids are awesome. They are strong and smart and independent when they need/want to be. And that's how all kids should be. Paul is sensitive and emotional, and feels a need to be validated and noticed. Nona likes to take charge and take care. She's the mother hen to her brothers. Beau, and it may still be too soon to tell, but Beau is carefree and fun loving and shirks all responsibilities. He loves letting Nona take care of him.

I want to know, though, that when push comes to shove, my kids are going to stand for something. And the only way I can think of to make them do that is to set an example. Maybe to allow them a chance ask me questions about having principles.

I don't know guys. I'm just making this all up as I go. What parent isn't?

Barefoot: yay or nay?

2010-08-04T21:37:00.000-07:00

Today I had something of a personal crisis.

Needless to say, it was one of those days. There was no peace to be had, no relief, no comfort, no extra strength. No shoes, no clean clothes/dishes, no sanity. Yeah.

Now let me preface this next part by saying that I don't believe in making my kids look good when we go out. Part of this is out of convenience, part of this is out of wanting them to be comfortable and happy and to be able to express themselves however they want. But today it was really hard to remember that reasoning.

Nona was in old faded neon green sweats, that no matter how many times she had changed today, she always came back to. And on top she wore the cutest frilliest top you're ever seen. Paul looked fairly decent, but due to his new desire to grow his hair long and refuse to let me brush it, looked somewhat crazy. Beau had chocolate smeared all over him, and had just put clothes on for the first time that day (we're nearing 8pm).

We were going to get ice cream cones and go visit Daddy at work, since we really hadn't seen him much in the last several days.

Absolutely no one could find their shoes. And for some reason this really ticked me off.

Lately I was introduced to the barefoot movement, loved the idea of it, but for sanitation and safeties sake got me a pair of these puppies:

Love 'em, but I'll post more on these later.

For some reason it didn't pass over to me that I should let my kids experience barefooting as well. It was in the car, and there was still some sniffling in the back seat from my prior rudeness (which now tears at my heart, don't worry) when it hit me. What the crap is the big deal about shoes?

Yes, yes. Other than the fact that I have actually spent money on a product that seems to have vanished and will never get used, really, what was I whining about? I was allowing myself to go barefoot, why couldn't they?

So, they did. There were no run ins with sinister hidden pieces of glass, no seemingly innocent, sharp rocks waiting to make a bloody mockery of our new found freedom. It went fine.

So what was the big deal? I still don't know why I got my panties in such a twist. I know I haven't been the best mom lately, running on fumes will do that to the best of women. Which I"m not saying I am, I just... You know what I mean.

It made me wonder what else I get all worked up about that really is superfluous? How many other things in life are considered 'important' and are really just learned behaviors that when tested, hold no water?

What are some of the social norms that really need to be done away with, or challenged? What am I ready to throw out and make my own rules on? The possibilities aer liberating!

It's hot enough to...

2010-07-25T22:02:00.001-07:00

So apparently eggs aren't the only thing you can cook on a sidewalk.

I was walking home from church today, and it was a beautiful, sunny July day, so I took my shoes off to feel the earth beneath me. After about a block, I noticed my feet felt a bit tender, which is weird, because I have hooves for feet, seriously, I'm barefoot all the time, my feet don't get tender. Another house or two and it hurt pretty bad, so I shrugged, was confused, slipped my shoes back on and hobbled the rest of the way home.

There I looked, and to my horror, saw blisters on the pads of my feet. You know the fleshy part right after your toes? Well, mines cooked. I should have put BBQ sauce on it and we could eat them for dinner. Yep, I got me some second degree burned feet.

WHAT????

I didn't even know you could burn your feet by walking on a hot sidewalk. And now, it totally makes sense, of course you can burn your feet on a hot surface. But really? How bizarre is this?

After an afternoon of soaking my poor piggies in cold water, and some serious ibuprofen, I can now walk again, albeit painfully. And awkwardly. I kind of hobble like an old woman without her cane.

Cold grass feels lovely, and linoleum. It's probably time for another pot of cold water and a movie. Thanks goodness the wee ones are in bed, now I can just sit worry free.

Would it be weird if I wore these shoes to church? Probably would have saved me the hassle if I had some.

Moving On

2010-07-03T23:05:00.000-07:00

As I showered tonight with my new local-made soap, I remembered a time when I had to be very careful with what I put on my body. Because as soon as I got out of that shower I had a little nursling who expected to have my boobies back at his disposal, and he did not like when Momma tasted like anything other than Momma.

No soaps, no lotions, no oils, he would refuse to nurse and just cry instead, because this new smelling/weird tasting nipple obviously couldn't be the same one he had just used an hour ago.

My baby is now 2.5. He doesn't nurse, he mostly uses the potty, he sings songs and talks in full sentences. He pesters his sister because he knows it will annoy her. He has opinions, still, and he still expresses them. But I no longer have to deal with a baby, and I won't ever again.

And it doesn't make me sad.

I've had my kids, I've made, born, and raised them. I'm still in the process, yes, but until Beau, there was always the "when's the next one coming" pull. There is no pull now.

Everything has its season.

Now is the season for rearing the children, not making them. Now is the time to pack less diapers and more books. Now is the time to stay up late and go out on adventures because we have no naptimes or schedules that need observing. I have kids now, not babies.

And it doesn't make me sad.

Sure, there's times when I see giggly babies, or sweet sling sleepers, or a satisfied smile of a Momma who got a good latch from her newborn, and I feel the pang of what once was. But I don't miss it. Like the best meal you've ever eaten, you don't want it all the time, you want to savor it, remember it with fondness.

I'm excited for the next phase. Children! Explorers and imaginations. Actually sitting still while reading a story. Saying prayers all on their own. Dressing themselves in the most amazing ensembles. Learning to read.

There will always be babies, they just won't be mine.

And it doesn't make me sad.

S & M Monday

2010-03-01T07:59:00.000-08:00

Bonding

We observe that there is a process of bonding between father and child as well. Fathers who have witnessed the birth of their children seem to form an especially close attachment to these children and, like their mates, have profound spiritual experiences at the birthing.

pg. 243

Longing for Spring

2010-02-26T19:49:00.001-08:00

Have you ever just wanted to go native?

Live in a home made of fresh skies and sleep on a bed of sweet grass?

Wear nothing but warm mud?

See no one but those you invite to come with you?

Think of nothing but the deepest secrets of the stars?

Say nothing but the songs of the waters?

I need to walk barefoot, I need to get sweaty and feel my skin sting under the heat of the sun. I need to wake up at the crack of dawn and pull on a long skirt and t-shirt, throw open my windows and doors and do yoga in my front yard before my neighbors wake up. I need to plunge myself in a cold body of fresh water only to dry myself on the hot rocks.

I want to eat carrots that still taste of the dirt that birthed them, eat berries that stain my fingers, eat squash sprinkled with sea salt.

I want to go native.

Responsibilities

2010-01-20T08:36:00.000-08:00

A month ago, I was asked to serve as the second counselor in the Relief Society. If you're not sure what that means, or think I was speaking hungarian, check here.

It was a call that took me by surprise. Our ward boundaries had recently been re-organized, and I was the new girl at church. And then all of a sudden I was put in a position of leadership. Immediately I felt inadequate. I thought "there was no one better suited? No one more spiritual or organized?" But that's not how the Lord works.

He wants me in this calling, warts and all.

I have always pictured myself as a quiet leader. I'm a yellow personality, very fun loving and laid back; with a dash of white, compassionate for others with a need to help. Never one to follow the crowd though (obviously, if you're reading here) I guess that made me an unofficial leader. And here I find myself in a place where people need me and I have to set aside my personal life to help them with theirs.

I tend not to pontificate about my beliefs much. Not because they aren't important to me, but because they are just such a lifestyle I don't think of them as something that needs to be talked about. Obviously, I should be sharing this wonderful news I have. That Christ lives, he is our Savior! But this information has always been so personal and special that I tend to hoard it, like a king sized candy bar. I have always feared putting people off by my religious preaching, and instead try to live a lifestyle where people feel comfortable enough to approach me when they are interested or ready for the gospel I have to share.

As I transition into this new calling, and a new period of my life, things get left by the way-side and forgotten. Blogging for example, and reading. I crochet only because my kids want me to. I recently had to duplicate a toy for Beau that I made for a baby shower and Nona wants an afghan for her birthday coming up. I'm still a mother, a wife, and a hippie. Numerous times in meetings I have caught the stares of wonderment directed at my hairy legs and pits. It's hard not to laugh, or make up the thoughts that must be screaming in these women's minds. Not every day you find a mormon leader who washes her hair once every 9 days and doesn't shave.

This calling is changing how I be. The way I face life. I have found a new well of strength to draw from. I am growing up in ways that I didn't know I needed to. I am learning things and doing things and becoming such a proud and confident woman. And I thought I was one! I find new ways to stretch myself, and new ways to be me. Because I am still me. Nothing has changed that. Nothing will change that. My thoughts and idea's are the same. I just feel like they've now been validated by a higher power.

*sigh*, these are all thoughts that should be journaled, but putting them here, where I have a chance at getting feedback just seems so much more rewarding.

Would you circumcise your daughter?

2010-01-05T17:13:00.000-08:00

I was talking with a guy friend of mine who'd recently had his first child: a perfect baby girl. He chatted happily about the joys of being a new parent, and then mentioned an upcoming appointment. "Oh, just a usual checkup?" I asked casually. "No, its time for her snip-snip" he replied, equally casually. I was confused. "You know, her circumcision of course", my friend clarified. Oh, right... that. I asked how he and his wife had come to the decision to have the procedure done on their daughter. Now it was my friend's turn to look confused. "Well, everyone does it, don't they?". "Far from it, actually." I replied. "But I'm interested in your reasons, so go on". And he did.

He talked about how he wanted his daughter's genitals to look like his wife's, so she wouldn't be confused later in life. At this point, I wondered if he also intended to get his daughter a nose job, boob job, etc. He mentioned not wanting her to be teased in the locker room someday. I stopped him. "Wait, was she born with a deformity?". He said of course not, but that an un-cut vagina was just funny looking. Then he went on about how dirty they are, and being cut makes them cleaner. He said little girls don't know how to wash themselves anyway, and it would be gross. He said her husband would be glad for it someday as well. I stopped him there too. Would her husband also be glad that his wife felt less pleasure? My friend was confused about that. In his mind, removing parts of his daughter's genitals didn't mean she'd experience less pleasure. Right, how silly of me to think that. I had a million more things to say and ask, but I tried to stay civil.

This conversation was clearly becoming strained and painful for both of us, but he felt the need to defend his decision further. My friend then told me about how so many women get yeast infections, UTI's, and such, and that the circumcision might prevent that, and maybe even lessen her risks of some STD's too. I'd seen these supposed studies, and also the ones that debunked them. I guess he'd missed those, and also missed the fact that not a single medical association in the world promotes this "procedure". It was obvious he was doing something he thought was good for his child. I just looked at him, baffled. He then stammered on about how he was the parent and he had every right to make this decision for his child. Everyone else in his family had done it, and they were "fine" and "happy" with it.

My mind was reeling with questions and anger. Did he really believe that all baby girls were born defective? Should they have to undergo cosmetic surgery to have "prettier" and "cleaner" genitals? Was it really that hard for a child or any person to spend a few seconds washing down there? Certainly washing one's hair takes more time, but we all seem to manage that. How could he look at his perfect little girl and think that something on her was so disgusting and ugly that it had to be cut off? How could he think that it was "normal" and that "everyone does it"? How could he put her through the risks of a surgery for such stupid reasons? He even thinks that removing her parts would prevent infections and diseases. Following that logic, we should remove ALL teeth because they *might* get cavities, breasts because they *might* get cancer, and well... EVERY other part of the body because they may become infected or diseased some day. What odd reasoning. Certainly there are better ways to prevent and deal with such things. We do it for every other part of the body, why not the genitals? And why would he assume he has the right to make such a decision for his child? Her genitals were posing no immediate risk to her, so didn't she have a right to her own healthy body parts? Isn't it HER body? Aren't we supposedly all about "rights" and "choices" in America? Where were his daughter's rights and choices? He was going to walk right into that doctors office and pay to have his child's most sensitive parts mutilated. I felt sick to my stomach and just left him with a half-hearted excuse about needing to get home.

You may be sitting there, SHOCKED at how something like this could happen in America. You may think this isn't even true. The truth is, the healthy genitals of non-consenting minors are cut apart every single day, and many people don't even think twice about it. Many people defend the decision to do so with every fiber of their being. Many people even have it done to their child without really even knowing WHY. They don't even think twice about it. I've encountered numerous people who feel just like "my friend" in this story, and use the very same reasons that he did. The one thing I lied about is the child's gender. When this story is told about a baby girl, most people would be HORRIFIED and would want to see the parents imprisoned for mutilating their child. However, when we talk about a baby boy, suddenly it is a parent's "choice", and supposedly a valid and legal one at that. WHY?

Why do we protect our baby girls like mother bears, but throw our sons under the knife every day? Because his penis is ugly? Because it is dirty? Because it is different from his father's? Because it *might* become infected someday? Because his wife will be glad? Because its what everyone else does? Because its "no big deal and it doesnt hurt anyway"? Because its "just a useless piece of skin anyway"? Wrong. Just like every part of the female genitalia has purpose, function, and sensation, so does the male foreskin. And hello... there are these lovely things called soap and water readily available to us. We are WASHABLE people! You wouldn't dare let a doctor or any other person suggest that your daughter's genitals were ugly, gross, and unneccesary. Why do we allow such nonsense with our sons? Many of us don't. Most of the world, in fact, and now about half of Americans. Those who DO have circumcisions performed on their sons, operate under the assumption that it is just the normal thing to do. It is not. It was, for a very short time, considered "normal" in a few parts of the world. It was promoted heavily during the times that masturbation was seen as dirty and even dangerous to the body and mind. It was believed that circumcision would stop boys from masturbating. Some doctors even recommended it for American girls for a time. Then later, as people realized that circumcision did not stop masturbation, they tried coming up with other "reasons" to mutilate our boys. Myths sprung up like weeds. Its time for the insanity to stop. Its time for the sexism to end. In a time where we've fought for the rights of minorities, children, and women, we've left one portion of our population out. We've trampled on the human rights of our baby boys, and we've done it holding our heads high and justifying ourselves.

Wake up people. It is nearly 2010. We should be smarter than this. If you read my story above and were horrified for the little girl, but sit there and justify the same thing being done to boys, congratulations, you are a raging sexist. If this story has made you think, even just a little, thank you. Thank you from me, from the men who resent being circumcised as babies, from the parents who regret having it done to their child, and from the babies of this world who won't have to endure such a travesty because of increasing awareness. Please check out the links below regarding this issue. There are countless more, but I trust that if you're interested enough, you'll find them.

http://www.nocirc.org/

http://www.doctorsopposingcircumcision.org/

http://www.mothersagainstcirc.org/

http://drmomma.blogspot.com/

Originally taken from Woman, Uncensored

Strength, Courage and Wisdom

2009-12-30T20:47:00.000-08:00

India Arie is one of my favorite artists. I'm kind of a Junkie. That's with a capital J. Makes me wish I were a black woman, they wear their soul better.

This time of year we all dream of resolutions for the New Year. This new year, 2010, I resolve for Strength, Courage and Wisdom.

Strength- of the spiritual kind, of the mental kind, of the physical kind, of the moral kind, of the family kind, of the tribal kind

Courage- of the moral kind, of the tribal kind, of the physical kind, of the family kind, of the spiritual kind, of the mental kind

Wisdom- of the mental kind, of the physical kind, of the moral kind, of the tribal kind, of the family kind, of the spiritual kind

See the theme?

Our lives are about more than our bodies and the things we do. Our lives are about our souls and the people we touch. You don't get into Heaven for looking hot.

Strength, Courage, Wisdom. It's been inside of me all along.

What to say when I have nothing to say? Plenty.

2009-12-14T17:27:00.000-08:00

What to say. It's been 3 months. I feel disjointed from not blogging in so long, and yet, I don't miss it at all! Strange. I feel like I've grown up, like my mind has finally caught up with my body. You know, the body that has grown and fed 3 children. The one that loads (or aspires to) the dishwasher 3 times a day. The one that doesn't shower for a whole week. The body that often gets neglected. Now my mind is like that.

Blogging is a shower for my mind. It doesn't necessarily mean I need to wash, maybe it is just nice to unload in a quiet place. I can't guarantee that I'll be blogging regularly, although I'd like to say I will be. There's a part of me that misses taking pictures just for the sake of posting them here. And I haven't unloaded my memory card in a while. It's due.

My spirit feels calmer, and yet quirkier than ever. Maybe one is a result of the other?

I'll be back. Peace.

Baby Expos ain't for the baby anymore

2009-10-12T07:49:00.000-07:00

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

2009-10-06T10:21:00.000-07:00

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

2009-09-25T14:53:00.000-07:00

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

2009-09-23T14:07:00.000-07:00

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!

2009-09-16T07:15:00.000-07:00

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

2009-09-14T13:00:00.000-07:00

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

Adventures in 'running'

2009-09-12T08:11:00.000-07:00

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.

Dangit, now I want ice cream

2009-09-11T06:11:00.000-07:00

I went 'running' this morning. Let's just clarify, I hate running. But you know what I hate more? Not having any clothes that fit. And when I say running, I mean a light jog to my goal house down the street and then speed walking the loop back home, and jogging from the goal house home. All in all, about 20 minutes.

I almost threw up.

If I could, I would exercise in a dozen different ways. Give me a good ZUMBA! class, put me on a volleyball court. Shoot, I'd even love to play football. But just this pointless running to run thing is ridonkulous.

The only time I can get out is early morning, it was still dark when I went out today. MY husband insisted that I take the night stick for protection. Because, you know, vatos wait until sunrise to do their damage. I was fine, except for the part where I carried a heavy metal stick with me for 20 minutes.

At one point on my 'run' I noticed I was doing something I hadn't done for years. I was spinning that nightstick like it was a majorettes baton. I did baton twirling when I was nothing more than a short stack of fuzzy curls. (I so wish I had a picture!) My teacher used to tell us to pretend that on one side of our hand was a bowl of chocolate ice cream, and on the other side of our hand was a bowl of vanilla. To properly twirl that baton, we had to pretend it was a spoon, and get a scoop of chocolate, then vanilla, chocolate, vanilla. And here I am, huffing down the sidewalk, chocolate vanilla chocolate vanilla with a heavy police issue nightstick.

It made me smile.

Labor Day Sales hangover

2009-09-08T17:41:00.000-07:00

Hello pretty new yarn, it's so good to finally meet you. I'm Abby.

S & M Monday

2009-09-07T15:17:00.000-07:00

Brand-new babies are gorgeous. Being with a new baby, giving the baby your whole attention feels like giving your soul a drink of fresh pure water. New babies have strong, clear vibrations because their attention is not divided - whatever they do, they do it with their total attention. If you pay good attention to a new baby, the baby's serene intelligence will clean your mind for you.
-pg. 371

ooh la-la

2009-09-01T08:58:00.000-07:00

Last night I was lingerie shopping online.

But right before I hit that 'check out' button, I realized something.

I am not at a time in my life where I have the luxury of lingerie. Any and all sex I have is hurried and on stolen time. That doesn't mean it isn't enjoyable, but it doesn't necessarily mean I have the extra 20 minutes that lingerie would need. You put it on, you play around in it, you take it off. Sometimes I don't even get all my clothes off, let alone anything extra I would have to put on!

Maybe in a couple years, it just means I missed that Frederick's of Hollywood sale. Bummer.

ps- check out the new pole.

S and M Monday

2009-08-31T11:03:00.000-07:00

The Attitude of the Father if He is Present

The attitude of the father can be of equal importance to that of the mother. A loving and helpful husband is a great source of energy for his wife. By giving her his full attention and his physical strength (by smooching with her or by rubbing her breasts, her back or legs, etc.), he can greatly reduce the number of hours for her labor. A compassionate husband is a priceless aid to labor and delivery.
-pg. 343

not much

2009-08-25T09:05:00.000-07:00

life is slow and good. Nothing spectacular to report. The kids started preschool. I'm glad they're enjoying it. Beau had a tummy problem last night resulting in a burned butt, or as he called it a "poopy hurt". Nothing a little desitin and catnip can't solve. I stayed up all night watching romantic dramas on netflix while I held him, and now I'm exhausted.

I read yesterday a beautiful post by my one of my friends. She tells how she was having a hard time, and she was feeling sorry for herself. She made the comparison to a mountain. Every time a storm rages around a mountain, it's still a storm, and it's hard. But at the end of that storm there's a little more rock, a little more sediment built up on the surface, making that mountain stronger. I like that idea. You always hear that your trials make you stronger, but I'm a visual learner, and that's something I can see. Her post is here.

Peace, love, and long life y'all.

just the basics

2009-08-14T09:20:00.000-07:00

I'm Abby. I'm 24.

I'm an Aquarius, a yellow, an ox, an INFP, a gifts. I'm an introvert, I'm creative, I'm musical. I like to play volleyball and softball. I like to watch football, hockey and baseball. I like to listen to India Arie and Pink Floyd. I can barely play the guitar, and I have blue eyes.

My hair is long and changes color according to the season. My favorite color is orange, although I wear a lot of brown. I like getting sweaty and wearing long skirts. I have a wicked sense of humor. I'm good in bed. I have a quick smile. My feelings get hurt easy.

I've never had a true best friend. I'm closest to my husband and sisters. I like to play dress-up. I like to work outside. I have hurt peoples feelings. I like to read romance novels. I was a drama geek in high school. Sometimes I still feel like a child. I'm not very good at censoring myself on certain subjects.

I like to make other people feel good. I enjoy exercising my creativity. I'm happy, most of the time. My kids wear me out. I don't shave. I'm a good dancer. I like to decorate my home. I make an awesome quesadilla. I don't like to brush my hair.

I kill plants, seriously, a black thumb. I hate horror movies. I never feel peaceful after yoga. I like doing it anyway. I sing loud in church. I have few regrets. I like high heels. I had my kids at home. I have little shame. I get mad at crap and then walk away. I have good veins.

I haven't been to the doctor in over a year. I hate cleaning. I don't like to wear pants. I am barefoot more than not. I'm a quiet leader, and willing to relinquish my power to someone more capable of it. I'm a champion of the underdog. I like Chinese food.

I think Vin Diesel is hot. I'm scared of the dark. My favorite flower is the dandelion. Music moves me more powerfully than anything else. I like to write down quotes. I want to repaint my house a different color almost every month. I want to design my own clothes.

I am a good person. I swear when I get hurt. I have never broken a bone. I was a virgin when I married. Sometimes I pretend my life is a music video. I think my nose is too sharp. I like old books. I'm mostly incompetent. I'm a good kisser. I collect Norman Rockwell pieces.

I got married young. I think Ireland is beautiful. I don't take a firm stance on politics. I fancy myself a writer. I took college courses while I was still in high school. I like to be the hostess. I don't enjoy cooking. I crochet. I'm part Cherokee, and love it.

I'm content with what I have. I love surprises. I pay fines at the library almost regularly. I like things that chime. I like my privacy. I believe in karma. I have big feet. I like classic muscle cars. I snore when I'm exhausted. I've never been in a car accident. I'm a religious women.

I'm 200 pounds.

I'm more than my size.

Just filling a few orders

2009-08-10T09:14:00.000-07:00

as always, you can find all my creations over at YellowMomma

TMI: just a warning

2009-08-07T09:19:00.000-07:00

We've always had a baby monitor, but recently a new development has occurred that has me a little nervous.

I pretty much leave that monitor on constantly. If the room is empty, it's quiet and no matter, if the baby is asleep, I can hear if he needs to nurse some more or if he needs help off the bed. But what about all those other times? What about those random times in the afternoon, or when I go down to my room to go to sleep for the night?

Here's the deal: I have recently been picking up another homes monitor. I hear another baby, another mom, and they have a cat. I'm not sure which house it is yet, because it doesn't sound like the one I think it is. Do you think she can hear my monitor signal?

This is why I'm nervous: It's not uncommon for me and my husband to, ahem, "show our love for each other" in the middle of the afternoon, in early morning, or in the middle of the night. Pretty much whenever we get a chance to. And, as I said earlier, I don't turn off my monitor.

Is some poor unsuspecting mom in the neighborhood getting a free recording? Did it freak her out the first time she heard it "OH MY GOSH! Someones having sex in the babies room!!" I'm sure by now she knows it's just us.

Sorry random lady, whoever you are. Didn't mean to make you jealous.

It's that time of year

2009-08-05T09:16:00.000-07:00

It's at the beginning of every August that I lament not planting a garden. Mainly for the zucchini.

Here I sit with a fresh baked loaf, filled with a fresh zucchini straight from my neighbors garden (he gave it to me, I didn't steal it), and a dish of butter. I break off a hunk of bread, swirl it in my bowl of butter and consume.

I wish I had more zucchini.

because I don't have enough to do

2009-08-03T13:36:00.000-07:00

I've started another blog, thankfully though, this one will require minimal effort.

www.startswitha.blogspot.com

It started when I was making alphabet cards for my 5 year old and was struggling to think of what images could go with each letter. I could think of many, but none that were suitable for a child. The Letter blog is like alphabet cards for grown ups.

Here is my plea for photos. I have exhausted my supply of creative photos, and have been freeloading off google image searches. I know I have creative followers, send me your pics! send them to goingfullhippie@gmail.com and specify which letter you want them to accompany. I will link each picture back to its submitter, but only if you want.

I want this to be a community thing, pass the word!

We are mammals, after all

2009-08-03T09:06:00.000-07:00

World Breastfeeding Week 2009, August 1-7

Breastfeeding: A Vital Emergency Response

Are you ready?

OBJECTIVES OF WORLD BREASTFEEDING WEEK 2009
*To draw attention to the vital role that breastfeeding plays in emergencies worldwide.
*To stress the need for active protection and support of breastfeeding before and during emergencies.
*To inform mothers, breastfeeding advocates, communities, health professionals, governments, aid agencies, donors, and the media on how they can actively support breastfeeding before and during an emergency.
*To mobilise action and nurture networking and collaboration between those with breastfeeding skills and those involved in emergency response.

RATIONALE
*Children are the most vulnerable in emergencies – child mortality can soar from 2 to 70 times higher than average due to diarrhoea, respiratory illness and malnutrition.
*Breastfeeding is a life saving intervention and protection is greatest for the youngest infants. Even in non-emergency settings, non-breastfed babies under 2 months of age are six times more likely to die.
*Emergencies can happen anywhere in the world. Emergencies destroy what is ‘normal,’ leaving caregivers struggling to cope and infants vulnerable to disease and death.
*During emergencies, mothers need active support to continue or re-establish breastfeeding.
*Emergency preparedness is vital. Supporting breastfeeding in non-emergency settings will strengthen mothers’ capacity to cope in an emergency.

http://worldbreastfeedingweek.org/

I whole-heartedly support breastfeeding, wherever, however. Just do it!

Me, nursing Beau, in a crowded theatre watching my sister at a ballroom dance competition.

S & M Monday

2009-07-27T09:44:00.000-07:00

What to do when your new baby cries pt. 3

Change your baby's diaper before you feed him during his first few weeks. It's good for him to be dry and comfortable while he is eating. Take as much time as you need to do a good job of changing his diaper. If he is yelling frantically, tug on his little leg and tell him to be quiet or lean down and whisper in his ear to stop crying. He'll know what you mean. While you are changing his diaper, you can shush him and talk to him and get him quiet before you nurse him. You can and should train your baby to quiet down before you nurse him. He can't nurse well if he is crying - his stomach is too tight, his breathing will be out of rhythm and he will swallow air and get mad. If you make it a practice to try to stuff your tit in the mouth of your crying baby just to stop his crying, you will teach him to be demanding. Remember that you want to raise him so that you'll still like him when he's three or four years old. What you want to teach him is that the way to get some is to be sweet. He'll eat more at a time and be able to digest it better.

blogging vs. journaling

2009-07-24T12:21:00.000-07:00

some things should be blpgged, and some things should be journaled.

and sometimes I mix up the two.

Sorry.

ps

2009-07-22T15:37:00.000-07:00

I listed a couple new sets on YellowMomma this morning too

letting it all hang out

2009-07-22T12:22:00.000-07:00

I mentioned on Facebook that I haven't worn a bra in months. A friend asked why. Let me explain here:

"ligaments which support breasts in normal circumstances, would atrophy (get thinner and weaker) when breasts are immobilized within bras and don't have to bear their own weight."

I figure I've only been wearing a bra for 11 years of my (hopefully) very long life. I don't think i have any irreparable damage.

I love this site

especially this page

and this page

DISCLAIMER: the above linked site is all about boobies and has numerous pictures of naked breasts scattered all over the site, as well as a gallery, proceed only if you're comfortable

Part of my decision has to do with just not caring what people think of me. I don't care if my breasts aren't as perfect as they 'ought' to be. I'm comfortable. I don't get excessively hot or sweaty, no pinching, pulling, fittings or excess money. Who cares?

uhh, stuff

2009-07-22T11:21:00.000-07:00

It's been a while, eh? We went on vacation, that took some planning and preperation, which took time, which took mental muscles. But now we're home and most of the post-vacation laundry is in the laundry room and not scattered in my living room anymore, so that's nice.

I've got some blogs planned, so you will have something awesome to read again (yay!) But I feel I have lost my creative mojo, and subsequently everything I write turns out lame and I don't want to hit that 'publish post' button. Bear with me whilst I find my mojo.

the reality of a sewing momma

2009-07-08T11:25:00.000-07:00

I have a massive amount of patriotic fabric, decided to make clothes for the 4th for our family. Here's the play by play of a crafting Momma.

12:15> turn on the Pink Floyd channel on Pandora

12:17> cut out Pauls shorts

12:20> cut out Beau's shorts, they may be long in the leg and short in the crotch, oh well

12:24> go back to computer to see who new song is by, David Gilmour, I like it

12:26> cut off scraps and put in a pile with all the other scraps from this year to make a quilt/dress for me later

12:27> make big fold to cut out Nona's dress, pattern I've used before, this time I know what I'm doing

12:30>get pattern pieces laid out, Queen comes on, don't have to look to know that one

12:31> Paul wants to help

12:49> Nona's dress is cut out, Beau's awake, sewing may need to be postponed. Lunch is requested, they say nachos. Should I take the time to make myself a matching skirt, there's certainly enough fabric. 20 yards by my count. maybe some shorts for jake? then I'd have to keep the stuff out and risk getting it dirty, oops, one more piece needs to be cut!

12:52> strawberry fields by the beatles, Nona recognizes #3 on the pattern piece and wants to hold it, you know, because she's 3 too!

12:53> nothing for me, not today, I'll make a scarf, or head wrap out of it or something to match the kids, Jake is out of luck.

12:54>never mind, shorts for jake are easy enough, just have to make nachos for Nona to get her off my back, Castles made of Sand by Jimmy Hendrix, it's funky, I like it.

1:01> put away extra pattern pieces, cut up an apple, make more nachos, off to find a pair of shorts that jake wear regularly

1:04> add (typed that as 'ass') peanut butter to aforementioned apples. Don't have enough elastic for adult sized shorts, didn't think of that. Steal some from my moms house or risk taking the chillins to the store? Get as far as I can without it, Kids are fighting over who has more peanut-butter on their plates.

1:06> Communication Breakdown by Led Zeppelin, tell me about it

1:10> Fleetwood Mac: The Chain, wiping cheese grease off my cutting board, ceiling fan blows pattern pieces across kitchen

1:13> All time favorite Creedence song, pour some orange juice while rocking out, Paul dances with hands full of peanut butter covered apples, still waiting for kids to vacate table to finish Jake's shorts.

1:15> Kids are done, tut-tut looks like rain, send them out anyway, now I can get back to work. Paul asks to go the park by himself. I tell him to get a shirt on, he says "a C-shirt?" no, a T-shirt

1:22>Eleanor Rigby by the Beatles. jakes shorts are cut out, Beau locked Nona outside, she's yelling at him from the porch. Paul wants everyone to go on a walk, where are the shoes? have to finish later. at least everythings cut out.

1:23> I'll probably freecycle some of these scraps, there's way too many for me to use, quilters love patriotic fabrics, right? I' mhorrible at wasting fabric like this, it makes me feel bad.

2:51> got back from our walk, got caught in the rain. Time to go the store and errands, sewing will have to wait until tomorrow

The sewing did get done, you can see how cute my lucky kids looked here.

Reconciliation

2009-07-06T09:07:00.000-07:00

I am two women. Depending on the day, sometimes one is louder than the other. I try to come to terms with who I am, all the while blending in who I want to be.

I want to be a sexy woman > I want to be an earthy hippie
I want to be a no-nonsense woman who calls it like she sees it and doesn't take any crap > I want to be a loving, compassionate woman who everyone feels peaceful and safe around
I want to be a safe harbor > I want to fly with the wind
I want to be a leader > I want to live in a cave
I want to crank my stereo on the lawn > I want to do yoga in the mountains
I want to spend money > I want to always play and never work
I have grand schemes > I want to go with the flow

Is it just me? Is it just being young, is this something I will grow out of/into? When I've reached 70, will I be exactly who I want to be? 70 seems so far away...

Did you know...

2009-07-01T05:58:00.000-07:00

...That I don't know?

I don't know what it's like to struggle to get pregnant. It happened, and it happened quick. There was no waiting. And every time there-after, it happened quick. Sometimes it even happened when we were trying to make it not happen. I've never yearned for a baby that just won't come, I've never checked my temperatures or charted my cycles (not for the purpose of getting pregnant, anyway). I've never said, "maybe next time", I've never had to "try".
I don't know what it's like to have a hard pregnancy. My body took extremely well to making babies. I never suffered from this or that, I never worried my body couldn't handle it. I had one miscarriage, my very first pregnancy, before Paul. It came about at 6 weeks. I believe that that pregnancy was Paul, but he just didn't get it right and requested a do-over. He wanted everything to be perfect, and he tried again to get everything just right. And it worked! I don't know the heartache and fear of multiple miscarriages.
I don't know what it's like to have a hard birth and labor. Baby one-8 hours, Baby two - 6 hours, Baby three - 1/2 hour just kidding (a little bit kidding, it was quick). I've never had complications or interventions. No epidurals, no internal exams, no monitors, no rides to the hospital with contractions, no frantic calls to the midwife, no thinking "that can't be good", no marathon labors, no exhaustion, no major bleeding, no nothing. Every time I have had a child exit my body, I couldn't have asked for it to go better. You might hate me for it, but having my babies was easy. Not physically easy, or mentally easy, but easy non-the-less.
I don't know what it's like to struggle to breastfeed. Every baby latched on right away, every supply of milk came in heavy and strong, everyone doubled their birth weight withing weeks. I didn't struggle with painful nipples, except for some tenderness with my first, but I never had to use a cream, or a cold compress. I never cried in frustration, or embarrassment, or pain.

Why do I tell you all this? Is it to make you hate me? Some of you may, although that wasn't my intention. I tell you this to show you my ignorance. I feel like a bad friend/advocate/mentor, because I just don't know! All I can offer is a shoulder, and encouragement. NO advice, I've never been there, tried that, come through the other side. I don't know what you're going through, I don't know what will help. I don't understand.

It doesn't mean I don't know what pain or disappointment feels like, we all have felt those. But I'm not the best person to come to if you need anything other than support. I'm not a wealth or experience and information. I'm a quiet, patient soul. More days you'll find me sitting on my porch watching my kids play while I crochet, than out activating for something, than out studying about something.

I have those friends though:

Tophat, Alisa, Emily, MommyBee, Rixa

These women are strong and smart and they inspire me. If I need to know something, I ask them, or I ask them where I can look to find the answer.

Sometimes it makes me feel like less of a woman, to have had this whole mothering thing so easy. Where is the suffering? Where is the experience? I have no well to draw from. But on the other hand, it makes me so happy to have had everything the way it is. The peace and joy I feel in my life isn't anything I would change, I don't want it to be hard! I'm not asking for that! But it seems some days like theirs is an exclusive club that I'm being left out of. Moms of preemies unite, La Leche League needers go to meetings, Fertility support groups, We have a child with autism and he goes to special play groups.

Where's the group for the ones who've got it good? Or does everyone just hate us too much? I wouldn't blame you, my life is pretty awesome.

The challenge

2009-06-30T06:46:00.000-07:00

I've joined the Long Hair Community. I figured it's about time.

I have given myself the challenge to wear my hair up for a week straight, baby steps and all that. Not really much different than what I usually do, but I thought it might give me a sense of accomplishment to tel myself to do something, and then follow through. Even though I would have done it anyway, without needing to be told.

Yesterday was day one. I had my hair in a Madame Librarian Bun.

Today is day 2, and it is some kind of twisty thing, on a stick.

And, yes, that is a lot of hair. It's holding pretty well, although I'm sure it will need to be redone throughout the day.

What will day 3 bring?

Summer Heat

2009-06-29T14:23:00.000-07:00

the last couple weeks have been mid 70s and rainy. And then all the sudden we get thrown into the end of June with high 80s, even over 90 a couple of times.

I'm not sure I like it.

You want to know what makes a 75degree house feel good? A 95degree shaded porch.

Time to bust out the blow-up pool and bikinis. Might as well get a tan in this heat.

Even Momma's like to celebrate Fairy Day

2009-06-26T07:53:00.000-07:00

What's really important?

2009-06-24T06:12:00.000-07:00

I teach the women's class at church on the 4th sunday of every month. This month I am preparing a lesson based on this talk, Provident Living. Every time I read this talk it inspires me to purge everything I have and to live in a shack.

It's that good.

It begs the question, what really is important? What do we really need?

Life should be about the simple things. The Simple Pleasures. Not exotic, foreign vacations. Not about fancy, new, fast cars. Not about skinny bodies. Not about kids who are smarter/cuter than other kids. Life should be about Joy. Happiness.

Do material things really make us happy? Does a bigger house fill us with joy? Or is it the smile of our children when we make pancakes for breakfast? Is it the look of contentment on our husbands face when we snuggle with him during a movie? Is it watching our kids be assertive and creative and strong when we let them wear mismatched, backwards clothes?

Life for us now is all about an image. Some of us want to be bigger, better and stronger. Some of us want to be weirder, different-er, uniquer. And we hype up that image, in one way or another. I perpetuate it with my wardrobe and my hairy legs. Some do with their jewelry and colored hair.

But you can't take it with you.

If at this moment you were stripped bare of all your material possesions, and we all lived with our spouses and children in identical shacks as the rest of the world, and we all had shaved heads and no make-up and only 3 identical outfits to wear for the rest of our lives, could you find happiness?

If the world changed somehow, and you could no longer work and obtain, but keep only exactly what you have, would you have joy?

Would you cherish every day with your children? Would you welcome your husband home for every hour? Would you be able to find joy in a life that included no more 'stuff'?

So, what really is important? Family. Health. Maybe, Religion. If you could have nothing else in this life, would it be those three things? Would it be something else? Something you can justify needing for a purpose other than position or power?

Because that's all wealth is, power. All men crave power, on one level or another. Why do women judge and nit-pick eachother? For power over one another. Why do men fight and jockey for position? Power. And usually, whoever has the gold makes the rule. (name that movie).

Can you live your life without power? What is most important to you? Cherish it. Save it. Build it. Keep it.

Find your shack in this world, find your joy.

The Simple Things
Don't Worry, Be Happy

Finger Puppet Giveaway

2009-06-22T10:18:00.001-07:00

I am giving away one of my own designed sets of finger puppets.

Enter here.

Tales of a crafting Momma

2009-06-22T06:01:00.000-07:00

I sew, I crochet, and I make crowns out of pipe cleaners.

boo-hoo to no-poo

2009-06-18T18:18:00.001-07:00

While I love what washing my hair with baking soda has done to my hair, I am not loving that I now have to wash it more often to avoid the greasy hippie look.

Cleansing my hair of all the residue from shampoo has lightened my hair and now I am curly again. Seriously, I haven't had curls this light since I was a kid. And it is really bringing out my color.

The hard part is I just have so much hair that it needs a good thorough cleaning every 3-4 days. When I still used regular, ole' shampoo, I could go a whole week without getting greasy. But hte whole point of no-poo is to let your hairs natural oils do their job, not to strip them away. I'm on day 5 and I looked in the mirror today and was not happy with what I saw.

This means a change in habits. A change that won't be easy to make, but a change that will be worth it.

I have been using this recipe.

A poem

2009-06-15T06:20:00.000-07:00

Through a Foggy Window
by Abby Wilson

I want to run with bare feet through the wet grass.
Let the rain curl my hair and wash my lips.
The wind blows my skirts against my ankles while my loose tresses dance and tangle behind me.
The grey skies echo my smile and gently let their burden slip onto my upturned face.
The mist leaves the valley and climbs the mountains,
Hand over hand.
Taking my solitude with it.

10 reasons why I hate Wal-Mart

2009-06-12T12:59:00.000-07:00

After trying 3 different stores and having no luck finding a certain item, I realized I had to descend in to the bowels of hell to get it.

Wal-mart.

the place is dirty. With just so much to clean, I can't imagine them actually having success making the place look not dingy.
the produce is inferior. might as well be dried fruits and vegetables. Because by the time they reach the mega-box store near you, it's been months since they've seen a tree. Months people.
Everyone who works there is about 3 minutes away from either killing you or themselves.
Except for the overly-cheery geezers who greet you at the door.
which is frustrating because every parent knows that there is a certain amount of kid wrangling that goes into entering any grocery store, and the last thing I have time to do is make eye contact with someone who can only see out of one of their eyes anyway.
kids cry at Wal-mart. not just mine, and not just yours. but every child ever born of man will find the need to throw a royal fit right in the middle of everyone. And this is not exclusive to age. On my latest trip there was the 6 month old in the car-seat wailing away, the 3 year old demanding the toys strategically placed at checkout, the 6 year old who was refusing to leave the store until her grandma bought her the princess coloring book.
that last one was particularly awesome to watch. It has been a long time since I have seen a child that large throw that big of a fit.
parents who take their kids to Wal-mart do not seem to care that their kids hate going there, and see nothing wrong with letting their child wail like a banshee the whole time they browse through clothes and silk flowers.
everything is so darn cheap that I find myself saying "why not? we can afford it..."
and then cursing myself 3 days later when said thing breaks because it is so cheap

I have had the greatest success buying everything I need at smaller stores who offer specifically what I need. I am willing to pay just a bit more to support smaller, local businesses.

And that also means that my money isn't going to 'the man'.

One to cross my list

2009-06-08T07:30:00.000-07:00

When I was a little girl, my mom sewed so much for all of us. For mothers day I took the scraps that had been left over and made a memory quilt.

S & M Monday

2009-06-08T06:23:00.000-07:00

What to do when your new baby cries, part 2

If he is crying because he had just woke up and he's hungry, pick him up if you are ready to feed him. But don't let his crying get you so frantic that you get in a rush. It's important for you to have a mellow presence while nursing, which is imposible to have if you are rushing to stop the baby from crying. So, if you have to go to the bathroom first, do it. The baby won't starve in the meantime. All babies cry sometimes. Act, but don't be uptight about it - it's not big deal.
-pg. 271

What is S&M Monday?

It's hard to be a hippie

2009-06-04T08:19:00.000-07:00

Whenever I sit down here to make some quirky little post, I always get some kind of writers block. The blogging bug has slowed down and I am not as gung-ho about it as I used to be. Sure I can come up with something to say, but will it be clever, or insightful? Not always.

And then there is always the pressure for me to make this a hippie blog. When I want to write about say, purses, or how I hate housework, I always think of how that's not hippiesh and that I shouldn't put that here. The title of this blog is Going Full Hippie, and I feel some obligation to make every.single.post. about something to do with being a hippie.

It's putting a real cramp in my blogging style. This blog is for purely entertainment purposes, because you all care so much what I have to say and I am just that funny. Every now and then something important comes up that I want to share, and it usually involves birth. That's a biggie for me. Everyone is touched by birth. We have been birthed ourselves, and sooner or later, we will beget our own off-spring. And we all have a say as to how we do it.

Don't follow the crowd. I guess that's the main hippie message. In whatever you do, don't do it because everyone else is. In your birthing choices, your food choices, your clothing choices, your relationship choices, your religious choices... Everything we do is a choice. If you truly want to be a hippie, just do it because you love it. I don't know a real hippie. I was born a couple decades late to experience first-hand the whole peace and love action thingy. But it seems to me that hippies are who they are, because that is who they want to be, and at the time they made their debut, being different wasn't looked upon kindly.

So to me, it comes down to

HOW TO BE A HIPPIE: be happy being you. Do what you want, because you think that is the best way. Don't let other people tell you any different.

So there you have it boys and girl. Peace and love. Just be yourself. It's not always easy. You get weird looks. Trust me, I have hairy armpits now, and that doesn't go over well in public. It's even harder when you feel the need to speak up about your choices. Being different has never been popular, it's easier to go with the flow. Aren't our lives now all about how to make life easier? Internet, microwave, cars, washing machines, slip-on shoes, cotton, grocery stores. Our lives are full of convenience, so when it comes time to make a stand, it goes against the grain of our every day living. It's not something we're used to. Pushing the envelope is not the same as being different. But only be different if you truly want to be. Don't be different as a fad, because people can tell. And then it gets awkward.

So there you have it. The ramblings from my aching brain (seriously, I'm sitting here with a massive headache from staying up late finishing a new book). My kids are in bed and my house in a shambles, and I somehow went from making this post about telling you I want to post about frivolous stuff to telling you my secret of life.
It's enjoying the passage of time. Any fool can do it, there ain't nothing to it.-James Taylor

That ones for you Poppa, happy birthday.

Peace and love y'all. Go be you.

gushy husband post

2009-06-03T07:17:00.000-07:00

and it's not even our anniversary!

Yesterday I felt like death. I think it had something to do with the 4 hours of sleep, mac-n-cheese and cold cereal as my only meals, crochet out of my ears, cranky Beau, tonsils the size of Texas and a post-nasal drip, I hadn't brushed my hair yet and my clothes were covered in snot and processed cheese. It was around 4pm when I broke down.

The husband sends me to bed and then proceeds to take care of the kids, I'm assuming he fed them too. I wake up at 9 to beau sleeping with me next to my exposed breast. Sometime during the evening Jake brought the baby in to go to bed and I just nursed him in my sleep. Awesome. When Jake notices that I'm awake he points his finger at me and sternly says

"you are going to wake up at 6 tomorrow, and you are going to get your shoes on and go for a walk. You are not going to get on the internet, you are not going to crochet, until you have gotten outside and excercised your body."

He loves me.

So I went back to bed. I woke up at 6, I brushed my hair, put on my teva's, and went for a 40 minute walk. My Ipod brought up Gnarles Barkley, The Beatles, and India Arie.

He kissed me on his way out of the door for work, and admonishes me not to spend too much time on the computer today and to"get your butt outside!"

i got me a good one.

Headless, naked dolls

2009-06-01T06:45:00.001-07:00

sounds pretty bad right? Maybe the newest stephen king?

nope, just the state of my life.

I am crocheting massive amounts of toys to sell at the local farmers market on saturday, and I have finished bodies of dolls. I save the heads for last because, well, they're my least favorite part. All taht hair, and pulling, they're so tiny, and they need to be stuffed! It can be no fun nasty.

I'd take a picture, but I'm afraid if I set htem all up like that they may creep me out a little. Let's wait until they have heads, and clothes.

They say it's the thought that counts

2009-05-29T07:02:00.000-07:00

The next best thing since sliced bread.

Toilet Paper. And we were running dangerously low. We like to buy it in bulk from our local mega-huge super-chain bulk supplying store. So along I send husband with a small list of the things we like bulky.

HE comes home soooo excited. When he pulls the super huge package of TP from the back of the car he is practically quivering with excitement.

Want to know why he was so proud of himself?

He had bought me the recycled TP. Not that it's made out of recycled TP, but that it's TP made out of recycled products. Which was very sweet and thoughtful. He knows I'm trying to go a little more earth friendly.

But here's the downside.

It feels like I'm wiping myself with a woolen sweater. A very, very, THIN woolen sweater.

So while I am so proud of him for thinking of me and the Earth, baby, next time get the Charmin. The fratuple-layered, highly synthetic, super-absorbent, Charmin.

If anything be virtuous, lovely, of good report, or praise worthy, we seek after these things.

2009-05-26T06:51:00.000-07:00

That is part of the 13th article of faith.

For me, it has never been much of a big deal. I don't keep many friends, and I don't get out much. Pretty much the recipe for no disaster.

I would always find beauty and loveliness in other places though. The tint of the clouds at sunrise, the angle of the trees in a fierce windstorm. I felt the love of God when little kids would help each other in a new game, or when an older one would help a younger one across the street.

But as far as Virtue? It seems easy for a married woman to remain virtuous, especially when she loves her husband. But virtue can mean so much more than physical and mental fidelity. There is virtue in the way we act and treat ourselves and others. There is virtue in the way we commune with people we don't agree with.

Virtue-

–noun
1.
moral excellence; goodness; righteousness.

Synonyms:1. See goodness. 2. probity, integrity.

Goodness. Do we live our lives with goodness? Integrity? Integrity to whom? To us? To God? To our families and the people we hold dearest?

I"m resolving anew to live my life after the 13th article of faith, and to seek out anything lovely, anything that would reflect goodly upon me, and anything that my Father in Heaven would praise me for. I'm going to be better, right now, from this moment.

Do it with me.

Apparently I'm an ape like prostitute

2009-05-24T14:08:00.000-07:00

In an online group of which I am a part of we were having the conversation of what is physically pleasing to the Lord, as far as clothes and make-up and hair and such. my part of the conversatin is below.

It has been very lovely to watch this conversation. I haven't chimed in because for the most part I agree. No need to say what everyone else has already said.

However, I don't think it is what we wear but the sentiment behind it. (immodesty aside) Bright colors, flashy clothes, is they are to make us truly feel good, then I don't see how it could hurt. If itis a pride issue "I look better than you" then that isn't right. I love to wear big earrings, the bigger the better. They make me feel energetic and funky. It's not an attention getter. I like to wear long skirts, they make me feel femenine and beautiful. I have long hair and almost always just leave it in braids, very plain, I wear no make-up and don't shave. However there was a time that I did it all, and religiously. It didn't make me any less of a person.

If we wore heavy make-up and truly loved the Lord, would that make us a sinner because of the way we look? I wear a bikini, I don't own a one piece swimming suit. And I'ma fat girl. For me wearing a bikiniis not about sexuality and look-at-me factor, it is to give other women confidence. 'if hse can wear that, so can I". I'm nost ashamed of my plus-sized bikini, even after all the dirty looks I get. From other members and skinny girls alike. they are not happy that I am in that bikini. But I love it!

I think that at the end of it, the Lord will jusdge us by the thoughts of our hearts, and not by the way we looked. If we truly love the Lord and follow the gospel for that reason, the rest will fall into place. And who are we to judge hwo others run their families? Maybe they have good reason for the thigns they do.

This was after there had been some harsh judging and bashing of people by the other women of the group. THe following is a reply that was sent to the whole group. my snarky response (seen only here) will be in grey

I have been thinking about this reply for some time. Some of it has been waiting to see comments from others. I cannot honestly believe I am the only reply other than a "You go girl!" POV.
I agree about the sentiment behind actions to a point. I also believe that there are standards we should live by regardless of sentiment as others cannot see our POV and only see our behavior and the swath we leave behind.
I know that this is going to come across as a flame and believe me I have struggled with that concept because it is not meant in that manner. I simply cannot let that post go by without my POV in the arena. Why? Why must you get in your point of view?
I don't see how exposing coarse haired naked flesh in public can be anything other than a "Look at me" endeavor." coarse? what do you think I am? A man? A monkey?
"For me wearing a bikiniis not about sexuality and look-at-me factor, it is to give other women confidence. 'if hse can wear that, so can I". I'm nost ashamed of my plus-sized bikini, even after all the dirty looks I get. From other members and skinny girls alike. they are not happy that I am in that bikini. But I love it!"
Perhaps the Freudian spelling error should be corrected to "I'm *most* ashamed of my plus-sized bikini."nope! Just a momma nursing while I type, sorry for not being as perfect as you and taking all the time I need.
The entire point of you wearing it by your own admission is to have others see you in it. That is only "Look at me" behavior designed to shock and get a reaction. The intent is to inspire but if people are horrified that is fine by you. no, my behavior is not designed to shock. And even if it does, getting shocked out of your little bubble you call life isn't always a bad thing. And I wouldn't call myself horrific. Just because no one would put me on the cover of a magazine doesn't mean that people are horrified to see me.
There is such a thing as inappropriate exposure. Frankly, I would never do my spouse shame asked him, he's not ashamed like that by broadcasting my assets in public. I would never do my spouse shame by letting the world see what is to be reserved for him.he says my boobs and baby bearing parts are reserved for him, my tummy and thighs are fair game A man who would not have a problem with that kind of exposure of his mate has significant issueslooks to me like you're the one with issues. All of this because of a bikini?. BTDTnot sure what that means in spades. All it does is cheapen the women and give devalue her as anything other than a mindless body to be splayed out and used.There are many other things that a woman can do that cheapen and devalue her. I would like to think that I am full of value, and maybe more-so because of what I choose to wear. One may as well be the town whore. now you're just calling me names
My day would not be inspired by confidence or a desire to let it all hang out.prude It would rather be ruined and my dippin' dots thrown awaythey are nasty anyway as I loaded the car and reiterated that there are things inappropriate for public viewwhy? WHY! is it innappropriate for your son to see a woman who is not skinny in a bathing suit. You see plenty of skinny women in bikini's, what is wrong with my body. You are doing him a great injustice by teaching that only skinny bodies are acceptable. to my teen son, my 11 year old daughter, and my nine year old who turns magazines covers around in the rack at the store.I would like to think that me at the pool in a 2 piece is way different that the naked lady on the cover of vogue with a strategically placed hat.
Perhaps a little bit of shame keeping one clothed is a good thing. Well there's your problem. I'm not ashamed. None of us should be. These are the bodies that God gave us, and I'm taking care of mine in a way that I hope will make him proud. Not sure if he approves of peach ice cream, but I love what he gave me and I love using it in all the ways it is designed to be used. I hope to God that you are not teaching your kids to be ashamed of their bodies and that is why we keep them covered. I truly hope that is not the lesson they are learning from you.

Maybe I'm just sensitive. Maybe I'm overreacting. But I feel this was un-called for. I have since asked to leave the group, as I don't care what they have to say anymore since out of all of them, only one woman has stood up for me and called her out for being so mean. Plus, it's just not important.

Here's my question. Why do people keep hating me?

Poor Man's Plagarism

2009-05-21T11:43:00.000-07:00

I'm just going to give you a bunch of links today, because most of my friends are smarter than I am and have already presented awesome thoughts on the important issues.

Emily explains why going past your due date is not cause for panic.

Nhapmom presents the case against circumcision, with great facts and studies.

A baby girl nursing her doll gets put on a pro-breastfeeding poster, Morgan encourages us to write to them in support.

Travelin' Abby

2009-05-19T06:14:00.001-07:00

I never get to go anywhere cool. Unless you count the park as cool. Then I go somewhere cool all the time.

This weekend my family is going to Indiana to enjoy the Indy 500. My parents met there 30 years ago, and they are celebrating their anniversary early.

Guess who has 3 kids and no money and doesn't get to go.

This girl!

But wait. I may be down, but I sure as spaghetti ain't out. I devised a bit of trickery. Trickery that will let me travel for free. Behold, Travelin' Abby:

She conveniently fits into any suitcase, carry-on or pocket. She eats next to nothing and doesn't mind sleeping on the floor. All that she does require is that you take her with you, and that you take a picture of her there.

Travelin' Abby is going to Indy this week, but she loves to travel and is looking for her next adventure. Are you going somewhere cool? Got a pocket to spare?

S & M Monday

2009-05-18T05:41:00.000-07:00

What to do when your new baby cries. pt.1
Go and see if your baby is crying because he needs help, and help him if he needs it. A baby will have a certain cry if he has moved around so there's a blanket over his face or so that his head is up against the side of the crib, and you will learn to recognize this as a call for help.

Hole your baby a lot during the first couple months. Don't get so rushed that you forget to keep a deep communication happening every day between you and your baby. At the same time, don't think that you have to hold your baby all of his waking hours. If you have work that you must do, you can put him down to sleep, or if you have a fussy little one who naps best next to your body, you can tie him onto you with a small carrier while you do your work.
pg. 271

What is S&M Monday?

Why I've decided to stop shaving my legs

2009-05-11T05:34:00.000-07:00

The magical number that would signify my coming into adulthood. The birthday when I would receive a razor for my birthday.

I learned to shave my legs, and without nary a nick, was off and running, silky smooth. I was such an adult, and so beautiful. And for the last 13 years, I have been a near constant shaver. Having silky smooth legs is a right of passage. No matter what other milestones you have reached in your adulthood (your period, wearing make-up, a boy friend) shaving your legs is instant glamour and maturity. And it is something every girl can relate to.

But within the past year, I found myself shaving less and less and less. Not enough time, the razor was dull, you name it. I kept finding excuses to not shave. And then I had a thought:

This hair is something that came to me in my womanhood. It serves a purpose on my body, it does not need to be removed for my health. It is one of the things that comes to me in my physical maturity, marking my passage into womanhood. When I try to erase it, I erase growing up, I erase leaving my childhood behind. It has a purpose.

And this thought applies to more than the hair on my legs. It applies to underarm, to my bikini area.

The recent movement of women removing their pubic hair has disturbed me greatly. I have heard all the arguments, and can understand some of them even. But in the end it is a procedure that makes your woman's body look like a little girl again. Does that not bother you? Many people remove their hair for sexual purposes, erasing their signs of maturity so that their partner will better like their body.

When did we allow other people to approve of our bodies for us? When did we need to change the way we look so that people would like us?

I haven't removed any of my body hair (except for plucking my eyebrows and getting my lip waxed) for the last 3 months. That means hairy legs and bushy underarms, and other bushes. TMI? You might call me a hypocrite for shaking my head at body hair removal, and then removing my facial hair. But I think that is different. Facial hair is not common among women. My husband repeatedly tells me that my 'mustache' is not as visible as i think it is, or obsess it is, he insists that it is all in my head. And it very well may be. however, I do not desire to look like a man, even if it is only in my minds eye. I come from a hairy line, and therefore find a need to trim and clean my eyebrows lest i come to look like this man:

I do not condemn you for wanting to shave, or wax, or Nair, of whatever it is you do. And I'm sure a day will come that I want to be especially hot for a date night, or maybe I will reach a breaking point, but I plan on only shaving my legs for special occasions ooh-la-la.

This may be hard coming to this decision at the beginning of summer. It is easy to go hairy during the winter months when you are covered in jeans and corduroy, but now that the season of shorts and skirts and capri's in upon us, the hair will be more apparent. All I ask is that you don't stare or attempt to braid my leg hair into corn rows.

Throw that razor away, save yourself time and money, embrace your inner hippie and tell the world you don't care what they think. You have hairy legs and you like it!

S & M Monday

2009-05-11T05:26:00.000-07:00

Laboring Birth Mother as Elemental Forces
The mother's state of consciousness goes through a very great change during the first stage of labor. This change in her consciousness must be taken into account by all of the people helping her with the birth. She becomes less of an individual personality and more like an elemental force - like a tornado, a volcano, an earthquake, or a hurricane, with its own laws of behavior. This quality of ladies has been described as "a great, amorphous, gravity-tides thing, electro-chemical tropism, older and smarter than you, that always gets what it wants." You have to find out the laws of this tropism, whatever aspect of it you are faced with, and work within them, because you can' reason with an elemental force, and you can't predict what it will do. Don't expect a lady to be reasonable while she is having a baby. A lady who is usually very reasonable may find herself extremely emotional during her labor and have no particular thought content associated with the heavy emotions she is feeling. It is all right for her to be emotional as long as there is a sweet flavor to it.

My good deeds

2009-05-04T17:33:00.000-07:00

The good things that I have done today

I let the neighbor girl type up her school project on my computer so that it isn't late tomorrow.
I wore my hair down all day and felt beautiful and glamorous.
I let me kids run wild at the library, giving parents the excuse to elt their kids run wil as well. (just in the kid section, don't get in a tizzy)
I gave some neighborhood bullies the business. Don't you ever mess with me or mine you nasty little 12 year olds!
I let Nona have popsicles for lunch.
I gave my husband one amazing kiss when he left this morning.
I made pizza for dinner.
I read half a book AND tidied up the living room. Very ambitious.

I choose to ignore the fact that there is no clean silverware or that beau is sitting on the dining room table, completely naked, eating the pizza straight off the pan. I ignore the fact that it is physically impossible to walk into my sons room for all the clothes/toys. I am choosing instead to focus on the positive.

What are some of the awesome thigns you have done today?

Dumping

2009-05-01T10:11:00.000-07:00

Jake is at work all day. THe house is a mess, the kids are cranky and bored. I have a gazillion projects to do, and don't want to do any of them. I'm cold, in may. I want to spend time with my husband who has been working twice as many hours as he usally does. The cloud cover outside makes it dark. I"m sick of doing dishes, will it never end? With the van broken down (did I tell you that, yeah the fuel pump...) I am stuck cooking with the foods I have at home. Which would be fine if I wasn't trying to go less meat. I literally have nothing but meat. I have been eating bread. And we're out of milk. The salsa smells funky. I'm on my period and bloated/hormonal/cranky. Didn't used to be like that, not happy with the change. I could use something pretty in my life right now. Fairy God Mothers are pretty, right? I want to go somewhere warm, oh wait, no car. The creepy neighbor kid keeps peeking in the door, go away!! My husband wants to reconsile with his family. I don't blame him, they're family, but they're jerks with the emotional health of an emotionally unhealthy person (couldn't think of anythign clever, sue me). Is that how yo uspell sue? Like the name? or is it soo? that's not right, hwo do you spell that? So many clothes and nothing that I feel cute in. IMpossible to sew anything for myself, not enough fabric or time. Is money worth having your husband gone all the time? It is when you need to get your car out of the shop. We haven't even had it for a year, stupid van. The kdis rooms need to be cleaned, again. Beau wantrs to nurse all day, I want some alone time with my nipples. Can't they just be mone for a couple hours? Spell check button won't work, sorry for you. Maybe dumping all my crap will help me feel better about the day and actually accomplish something. Maybe?

And the winner is...

2009-04-30T06:52:00.000-07:00

a.marie

email me your shipping info at goingfullhippie@gmail.com

Sorry to everyone else, it's nothing personal. I used http://www.random.org/ to generate a winner.

Remember, you can always order your own. Just click on the yellowMomma logo over on the sidebar. In your order, mention that you entered the spring giveaway and I will give you 50% off. What a deal! ;o) lol

Better luck next time! Hmmm, what can I give away next?

Pot-purry (never could spell that word right)

2009-04-28T19:00:00.000-07:00

I love the color that steamed vegetables leave in the pan. Asparagus leaves the most beautiful green in the water. Also soaking dried beans, wonderful color.
I always think I am walking around like some gorgeous sex-pot goddess of beauty. And then I catch a glimpse in the mirror, "OH, I look like that? Yeah, I'm kinda pretty, I guess." And then 2 minutes later I am sooo sexy again.
I'm gaining weight. Donuts no so good for slimming down. Who knew?
The fuel pump went out on our van. No car until payday. Maybe walking to the grocery store will help me shed some of that love from the donuts?
Jake is almost done with his finals. Although the car getting sick is not helping him right now.
I do not like my new bangs. The next time you hear me saying I want to cut my hair, cut my hands off instead so that it isn't possible.
3 things are certain in this life. Death, taxes, and housework.
I am pretty sure that Beau nurses more now than he did his first week of life.
I am really trying to cook less meat for our family, and that made me realize that I don't know how to cook a meal without meat in it. Except for cold cereal. You just take out the bacon bits. That ones easy.
I am so tired of living in the city. I can't wait until the day we are able to move out into the country and not have neighbors breathing down our necks or zooming by on their motorcycles at 3am.
Since I married, this is the longest I have gone without being pregnant.
Last week when I was trying to sew a dress for me I got distracted/confused and sewed the sleeve into the waist band.
I am a list maker. Not to be organized, but because I get overwhelmed and lists are like a kindly helper telling me to calm down and just do the next thing on my list. They literally go like this, -Brush hair -make breakfast -clear dishes -change kids diapers -pee
I ran out of gas when I was mowing the lawn and now my yard has a mohawk.
I went out with the kids today to story time and saw a mom with one child. The mom was perfectly coiffed and powdered. Her clothes were awesome and clean. The kid was in their pajamas and snow boots and I instantly judged her. Come to find out this week is pajama week at the library. Sorry lady!
I buy books without reading them. There are some on my shelf that I have never opened, and might never open. But they look/sound cool and if I ever want to read them, there they are.
Even though we have some major money issues with the car dieing and all, I still have this insane urge to go to the fabric store. SO BAD.
Remember in middle school during fitness week the PE teacher would make you run the mile 3 times that week and tel you he hoped you would improve on your time by the end of the week? You would run that mile with hate in your heart over and over again just knowing that you would have to do it all again the day after tomorrow. That's how I feel about dishes. And laundry. And vacuuming.
Despite being hard, life has been really good lately. And that makes me so nervous.
I realized the other day that my kids are getting older and that I can do so many things that weren't possible 6 months ago. What will my life be like in a year?
I can 't wait to raise my kids and see them learn and know that I was that source of knowledge. I am planning on homeschooling. And while it intimidates me and I worry that I won't be up for the challenge, I am excited by that challenge. And I would do anything for my kids, even this.
I get a thrill from coloring with sidewalk chalk. SO much more fulfilling than regular coloring. Why is it that kids games are usually more fun that grown up games?

Last day for the spring giveaway

2009-04-28T18:43:00.000-07:00

the spring giveaway will end wednesday evening. I will announce the winner on thursday.

S & M Monday

2009-04-27T07:18:00.000-07:00

Your Crew
It's best to have a trusted and trained friend there to assist you, two if possible. They should both be people you would like being around if you were the one having the baby. If you find on your way to a birthing that you have any disagreements in your heart with any members of your crew, work them out and resolve them first, or choose another crew that you feel in total agreement with, as any disagreement among the midwife crew can have a disadvantageous effect on the birthing.
-pg. 344

this thought also applies to who you have present at your birth and how you behave at your own birthing.

for me I prefer to birth unassisted, but that is a choice for everyone to make individually. This rule can apply in general to the people you will rely on at the birth, whether they are birthing professionals or not.

Spring Giveaway

2009-04-22T12:11:00.000-07:00

the sun is warm, the skies are clear and the flowers are in bloom.

So I offer 3 of my handmade, crochet flowers to celebrate the change of seasons.

Teal, yellow, and white, colors for spring.

leave a comment below. Giveaway ends Wednesday the 29th of April, that's one week folks.

I will cover shipping if you aren't local.

Good luck!

Behold: the hippie pants

2009-04-22T06:50:00.000-07:00

yes, they are pants. No, I didn't make them myself.

EBAY, baby, you can find anything there.

escape

2009-04-21T08:16:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was going to be bad. I woke up tired after a long night of mothering. I woke up hungry with nothing yummy to eat. I woke up to a messy house. I had no hope for the day.

Then I loaded the kids and cheese and fruit into the van and we left. I won't tell you where our magic place is, for fear that you will discover its magic for yourself.

As I drove with the windows down I couldn't wait to leave behind the confines of people.

We spread a blanket on the grass, read books from the library, splashed in the river and laid in the sun.

It refreshed my soul in a way I didn't know I needed. I am an animal that is weary of fences and civilization. I crave fresh air and the sound of the earth. I would go back every day if we could. But now that I know how easy escaping was, I will do it much more often.

Everythings amazing, and nobody's happy

2009-04-17T12:50:00.000-07:00

As you go through your weekend, try and look for the positive.

Awesome giveaway

2009-04-16T09:54:00.000-07:00

Gorgeous stuff that I really want. but don't enter, that will detract from my chances at winning!

Truth in advertising

2009-04-16T08:03:00.000-07:00

a rough translation of the dialogue:

Mother: We talked and decided that the best option for us would be to have our baby here, in our bed, in our little home.Father: It's the place where our first child was born, and to do the same thing, in the same bed, was very important for us.Mother: It's a miracle, no? To bring a life into the world, to help them come out, and to be able to do it however you want, wherever you want, and in your own home.Father: It is traditional to birth in the most intimate manner.Mother: There is a certain light, a certain smell, a certain warmth in the place where a baby arrives. It's very special.

when it shows the baby: Waira was born on March 21, in a Flex Bed.

And the companies slogan shown at the end:
Flex: Your Bed. The most important place in the world.

what a beautiful commercial. they sold me!

Someone please tell me why this commercial would never be allowed in the US, but Paris Hilton can wash a soapy car in her bikini to sell cheeseburgers?

What does that say about our society?

Adventures in Y mountain and why I love getting up early

2009-04-15T05:27:00.000-07:00

I made a goal with myself to hike Y mountain once a week. The best time for me to go is early in the morning before everyone wakes up, and since I like to get up early that worked best. Last week one morning, I get up at 6, pull on my jeans and my hoodie and head out. I've pre-googled that trail head directions and find it easy enough. I load my water bottle, car keys and cell phone into my backpack and start up the trail.

The trail is made up of a series of switch backs. See how on this trail it zig-zags? That's what switchbacks are. On the trail for Y mountain it starts off with two very steep switch backs where you gain over 1000 feet in over the first mile. I made it halfway up the first switch back before I had to stop for a drink. Then I pushed myself to the beginning of the second.

There I sat on the provided bench (at least I'm not the only one with a problem) and guzzled some more water, wished I had a tissue to blow my nose with so I could breathe and watched the sun come over the valley. When I noticed some people coming up the trail behind me I thought "I can't just sit here while they over take me! I must press on!" So i got up and walked some more. In about 20 ft. I had to stop for air. I looked over the valley some more. Then I walked another 20 ft. Then I had to stop to dry-heave. And I looked over the valley some more. I stopped there, at the beginning of the guard fence and just watched the changing lights in the sky while my lungs regulated themselves. The people passed me with looks of sympathy on their face. Oh, that poor fat girl! She's trying so hard, yes she is!

And then I gave up.

As I headed back down i found that out of the corner of my eye I can see the lower switchbacks moving under me and it gave me a crazy case of the dizzies. I would have to put my hand up next to my eye like a blinder to stop from getting vertigo. I got back to the car, found a tissue I can breathe!! Finished off my water and sat and watched the valley wake up.

One of the main reasons I love getting up so early is that I get to watch the sunrise. This morning was so beautiful and I think it was Gods way of rewarding me for trying.

that last one there is Provo valley. Sometimes I forget how beautiful it can be. I can't see the forest through the trees.

It was gorgeous and exhilarating and fun and hard. And I want to go again. But we have had either rain or snow or hurricane force winds, or babies who have nursed from 6:30-9 straight or little guys with hacking coughs or little girls with monster dreams or husbands with early buses to catch and they can't babysit.

But I have Jake's promise that in the summer when he is done with classes and just working I can go as often as I want. But it's going to have to be early because he will need to be at work at 7:30.

Anyone want to come with me?

I didn't go outside at all today, I promise.

2009-04-13T18:46:00.001-07:00

What? Why are you looking at me like that?

Okay, so maybe I was outside for a little while. It'll tan right up, it's the Cherokee in me.

Don't worry, it doesn't hurt.

Much.

Homemade Easter

2009-04-13T08:21:00.001-07:00

One of my goals this year was to make my family matching outfits for Easter. Due to the amount of free donated fabric I had, I was able to make that happen. Nothing for me this year, at least not for Easter, but I feel good knowing I was able to give my family new clothes and only spent $2, for a zipper.

yay for pretty spring dresses, matching ties, not as easy as you would think

That's one to mark off my list.

looking for closure

2009-04-10T06:26:00.000-07:00

I had a melt down last night. It wasn't pretty. I felt so angry, an emotion that I usually am not familiar with. My husband held me and rubbed my hair and asked me what I needed to be happy again. And you know the first thing that came to my mind? I want to tell your family off.

Boom, out of nowhere. I guess that still seems to be an issue. And then the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I just wasn't over it. I am a strong, opinionated woman who let them have the last word. And a horribly mean one at that. And I just took it. No fighting back, no retaliation. I"m not that kind of girl! I don't come from that kind of woman! I come from a long line of fighters. And I am blessed to call the family. (every time I write that word it comes out damily, as in fam damily. Every time!)

I thought I was over it. I thought I had forgiven and forgotten and moved on. But apparently not. I realized I never had any closure, I never defended myself.

So Jake gave me the thumbs up to start blogging about his family again. He had asked me not to for the sake of peace, but when he saw that it was only masking the real issue he realized that it hadn't solved anything, only allowed me not to have a voice in this fight. And yes, it is a fight. A fight where no one will win because it will tear apart a family, but it will not tear apart me.

So, in-laws, if any of you still read this, you have now been warned. I am gonna air all of the laundry. You are welcome to read, or run away, whichever, I don't care. This is about me now.

Regrets

2009-04-08T12:02:00.000-07:00

I wish I had discovered baby carriers when my oldest was little, then I would have had a better excuse to keep buying and using cute adorable carriers.
I wish I hadn't eaten half of that sheet cake on Monday
I wish I hadn't thrown away that awesome back pack I had in high school. It was all tie-dye patchwork and amazing
I wish I has tried out for the volleyball team my senior year at my new high school
I wish I hadn't had such a conventional wedding. There were no feathers!
I wish I had paid better attention when my mom was trying to teach me how to sew
I wish I had picked a brighter color scheme for my living room
I wish I had pushed Jake to go back to school earlier
I wish I had called my little sister while I was in labor with Beau, she wanted to be there really bad and I didn't anticipate how fast everything was moving
I wish I hadn't attempted to cut my own hair on Sunday
I wish I had gone outside more yesterday when it was warm and sunny

That sounds about good for now. I am pretty pleased that I had to rack my brains for those last couple ones. I don't have many regrets. Life is made for living, and we can't do that without learning, and we can't do that without making mistakes, and we can't do that without trying.

Did you know...

2009-04-07T06:15:00.001-07:00

that neither of my sons are circumcised? To me it seemed kind of idiotic to have them at home and then make a trip to the hospital/doctors office just to have a surgery that is deemed cosmetic and not covered by insurance and superfluous.

I don't understand why people still do circumcise their sons. We have the technology and resources for excellent hygiene now, and for many it is not a religious factor. Do we do it because all our friends are doing it?

I hear the argument a lot that parents don't want their babies to look different than their daddies. How often are your sons and husbands comparing penises? When will the cycle stop? I think that is an argument full of holes because you won't dye your sons hair to look like daddies, you won't have him get plastic surgery to have daddy's nose, why have plastic surgery to have daddy's penis?

I knew a woman who circumcised her first son and didn't like the experience. But when she had more boys she didn't want them to all look different so she circumcised them as well. My husband knows a man who isn't circumcised, and that man says he was teased horribly when he was in high school.

Guess what? Kids are mean, and will find ways to be mean, if not about your sons penis, then about his teeth/hair/skin/intelligence/size etc. Kids made fun of me and I don't even have a penis to make fun of!

Ultimately, if my sons reach adulthood and realize that being circumcised is something they want to do, then they can do it. It is their body, they can do what they want with it.

Why did you circumcise your son?

uh-oh, on so many levels

2009-04-06T12:56:00.000-07:00

todays S&M has been postponed.

So, I thought, no big deal, right? I cut the kids hair, I cut Jake's hair, I should be able to trim off my own split ends, not a problem.

Problem.

I have an appointment tomorrow at some salon (fancy word for 'we charge too much') to make my head look like I didn't shove it down the garbage disposal. Also, while cutting said hair, I found a long shiny white one. WHITE. Now I'm not against going grey, I think it will be beautiful to have long grey hair, but come one! I'm 24 stinking years old, give me another decade, please! Of course the hair isn't there anymore due to me ripping it out for a closer look and a color comparison with a sheet of printer paper. It was camouflaged, perfectly white. It was scary, it was an eye opener.

Also, have I mentioned the sun is shining! I am warm! I am in m flower garden and my hands are covered in warm dirt. Hooray!

Off to lay on the sidewalk like a 5 year old.

pictures of my haircut to come! and don't worry, just a trim and some 'bangs' type of thingys. No chop-chop for me. I like it long.

that's what she said. that was for you Jake!

The second is like unto it

2009-04-04T07:04:00.000-07:00

Matthew 39: And the second is like unto it, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself.

We are always excited to get new neighbors. A chance to make new friends. When they first move in, you go over and introduce yourself, maybe take a plate of cookies or a loaf of bread. You let your kids play with their kids. All is good.

And then in a few weeks you realize that they are kind of weird, but whatever, it doesn't really affect you, and they're still nice. And then they do something that you flat out don't like, but you realize it wasn't a personal attack and you just shrug and move on. You don't berate them just because of your differences.

Maybe you even talk to them about your dislikes and you come to an agreement. You learn to live with them, and over time you find yourself inviting them over for barbecues and your kids birthday. You find yourself taking them dinner and gifts when they have a new baby, or someone is sick. You find yourself friends.

Sound familiar?

How often do we love ourselves as our neighbor? Do we forgive ourselves as easily as others? Do we accept and overcome our own weirdness and differences? Or are we always trying to change ourselves into something we were never meant to be in the first place?

You are perfect just the way you are. Just because you compromise a few things, doesn't mean that you need to change you. We were all made to be different. Physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually.

Love thyself as thy neighbor. Try it.

what's in a name

2009-04-02T07:21:00.000-07:00

I was gonna tie this in with the last post but I forgot.

Any idea's on a name for me?

haha! My publishing name. It was just Abby but when I was blog hopping last night I saw 4 different 'Abby' s, and I have a hard time not being different than anyone else. Just kidding! a little bit, not really.

Right now it is Hippie Momma, but I'm not sure if I like it. I could go with YellowMomma, the name of my non existent crochet biz. I could do Abby the Hippie, you know, just to clarify which Abby. Or something completely new and different.

I need your help faithful readers. All 6 of you.

Do or do not, there is no try. -Yoda

2009-04-02T06:04:00.000-07:00

On the post where I showed you all my awesome hippie dress, I got a new comment last night.

Anonymous said:

It seems like you try WAY too hard to be a hippie.

Oh Anonymous. Why can't you just play nice? Why can't you just have the guts to at least put your name when you dis on me? Why can't you at least have the guts to make up a fake google accounts just so that you can dis on me? Those were the good old days.

As best as I can tell from my stat counter, it was a lonely Texan who was googling pictures of Tommy Lee Jones. That led them to this post, and then they spent 6 minutes just perusing my blog. And then they felt the need to dis on it.

???????????????????????????????????????

Let's get something out in the open. If I wasn't a hippie, where else do you think I would fit in? Should I walk around in skinny jeans, big hair, tight tops, weird jackets, pounds of necklaces, large glitzy rings, pick your fashion, but I have never followed the current fashion. And it wasn't until I was an adult that I was able to fully embrace me. Isn't everyone trying too hard at something? Why do you have to pick on me? Please, I think you're just jealous.

People are always jealous of me. Of my family. My sister posted some awesome thoughts about it here.

To sum it up, my sister said that people are always jealous of something they won't allow themselves to have, and the great thing about our family is we don't deny ourselves. And that makes people jealous and angry. Anonymous, are you angry? Do you really wish you could be a hippie, but you won't let yourself? Break out of that mold anonymous! Embrace change! Quit leaving rude anonymous comments on peoples blogs that you don't even know and probably won't ever read again!

But if you do read here again, beware, you'll end up wanting to be just like me.

Don't say I didn't warn you.

One day

2009-03-31T06:03:00.000-07:00

One day I will live amongst the Red Rocks, I will wake up every morning to the sun peaking over the mesa's and shining on the yucca.

I will live in an eco friendly adobe hut. One that allows plenty of natural sunlight and keeps the heat at bay.

I will go hiking every day, I will turn brown in the sun and my hair will become blond streaked. I will connect with myself and the Earth.

Of course I will be doing all of this alone, since my husband hates the heat, and the desert.

But he says I can come and visit him on his ranch in Montana. That would be fun!

I went full hippie

2009-03-30T16:00:00.000-07:00

it will look much better once I put a bra on, although I've kind of given that up lately.

I wasted a lot of fabric, next time I need to measure, and be more careful. I guess the good part is I can't think of another use for such dated fabric. The shirt was too short, so I repurposed it onto the dress. I had cut out a bodice, but it just didn't look right when I sewed it together.

I designed the whole thing, and for my first try, I don't think it turned out too bad. more practice, more measuring.

It's not exactly what I had in mind, but I still like it. YAY!

S & M Monday

2009-03-30T06:03:00.000-07:00

The Attitude of the Mother

The attitude of the mother cannot be over-estimated as a determining factor in the course of labor. A relaxed mother can have her baby much quicker and easier than one who is uptight.

-pg. 343

Am I really worth 10 cows?

2009-03-27T07:23:00.001-07:00

I'm gonna admit it straight out, I have Facebook crushes.

Guys that I liked in high school only got more attractive as they grew up, and when I see them online, I think back. And none of them could ever replace my husband, there's a reason I married Jake over all others. But there are times I see a picture of that guy and think "man! he is cute!"

And then it makes me think. I love my husband for so many reasons, but why does he love me? If, heaven forbid, I hadn't married Jake for some reason, and I was out in the marriage market, what would be incentive for a man to date me?

When I was younger, it was all about looks. Because, let's be honest, what 17 year old is going to date someone because they are really funny and have a compassionate spirit?

But now, the grown up Abby is really looking at her own attributes. The things that make her husband happy to have her around.

I see these boys online, and I see them with skinny beautiful women, they are drinking and smiling, they are skimpily clad with big white teeth and big red cups in their hand. And I think, "If I had to sell myself to that guy, what do I have that he would want?"

I think I am a pretty girl, but sexy? At times. I know I can be funny, but most of my humor is hidden under a deep sense of self preservation, and I only unleash it after I know you won't make fun of me for it. At least in person, the internet provides all sorts of cover. I can't say I'm a hard worker, I am a lazy person by nature. I don't enjoy keeping house, and cooking isn't really a hobby as much as a necessity. But I would get the job done. If I had to. I'm a good mother, but this is only important to a man who values family, thankfully I married one.

I consider myself smart, not necessarily educated (I mean I went to high school, etc. but no PHD here) But I am intelligent and logical. I am also a dreamer and don't get bogged down with life. I'd be a great person for lifting up your spirits.

I don't know guys. It seems like all that just isn't as important as a flat tummy and big, er, hair, and the ability to make other men jealous of your man.

So what is a curvaceous, lazy dreamer to do? We find a man who values us. And most importantly, we raise our sons to be men who value us. And to be men who marry women who they value inside and out. I don't mind if a woman is beautiful, good for her, but I truly hope that there is more to a woman than the way she looks. I truly hope there is more to a relationship than how good looking your partner is.

I truly hope that I can raise my kids to be people who value the person, and not the appearance.

So, let's make a list of my attributes:

fairly benign looking. No one runs screaming at the sight of my face
I can make you laugh, if you prescribe to my particular brand of humor
I raise well rounded, healthy, adjusted kids
I'd rather go play at the park than do your dishes
I'm more happy than not

I guess I'd better keep this list around to use as a resume, in case (heaven forbid) I ever need a wife resume

What are some of your selling points?

the benefits of breastfeeding

2009-03-25T06:43:00.001-07:00

This is my first hand account of the benefits of breastfeeding. I'm not going to site a bunch of numbers and studies, because I just don't do that. I trust my gut, and I live that way. If I'm on the fence about an issue (which really has only been with food additives) I research the heck out of it, but for the every day stuff, I just watch and learn.

Why I think breastfeeding is good:

it is free, formula feeding parents can spend upwards of $1000 a year

I don't have to wash anything, no bottles, brushes, nipples

there is nothing to prepare, just adjust shirt and go

my baby trusts me and I feel secure knowing that no one can replace me in his life

it comforts my child when they are scared or hurt, I don't think bottle feeding parents can say the same, to those babies, it's just food. To nursing infants, it is much, much more.

I don't have to worry about my baby having any side effects from the food is is eating. I know that breastmilk is the best thing for my baby's body to ingest, and if there is a reaction, it is from something in my diet, and that can easily be fixed

I don't have to read labels, making my shopping trip much quicker

I have never had to make my child wait while I prepare its food

poop smells less horrific, significantly

spit-up is not as deadly and can easily be washed out

Want to add any to the list?

You might as well call me a man

2009-03-24T07:21:00.000-07:00

I hate romantic comedies. Hate, hate, hate, HATE!

The other night we got Over Her Dead Body from Netflix. Oh. My. Gosh! It was the stupidest movie ever. The premise of the movie is a bride who is over controlling and, frankly, kind of a witch, dies on the morning of her wedding when she is trying to micromanage everyone. After a year her almost to be husband is dragged to a psychic by his annoying, incompetent little sister. The psychic is legit and very honest about her talents being there but minimal at best.

UNTIL THE HUSBAND AND THE PSYCHIC START DATING!

Now, I'm not against the two having a relationship, but why! does in every movie the minute two people get in a relationship they immediately start lying to each other? WHY? Who thinks that is is funny?

There is a point in the movie when the psychic and the husband go to a bed and breakfast for the weekend and their "first time together". The dead wife haunts the psychic because she feels it is her duty to protect her husband from ever being in another relationship ever again. And the stupid psychic, instead of telling the husband that his wife doesn't like them being together and is haunting them, she lies to him and tells him that the wife wants him to be happy and be with the psychic, herself. So the whole time they are trying to get jiggy with it the ghost wife is watching and it is, understandably, freaking the psychic out. So instead of telling the husband the truth (that the wife is right there watching) she tries to ignore the wife by getting all kinky and weird. Then the husband gets freaked out and uncomfortable. (for the record, kinky is not bad, just saying)

So the relationship takes a dive, all because she can't figure out how to be honest. Um, how hard is it to be honest with someone you want to start a relationship with?

And people think this crap is funny.

And, of course, in the end everyone realizes they don't mind being in a relationship with a liar, and they all live happily ever after.

And, just for the record, being mean to people isn't funny.

Chick flicks I hate:

10 things I hate about you
27 Dresses
what women want
hitch
runaway bride
as good as it gets
my best friends wedding
monster in law
license to wed

and sooooo many more. Which ones do you want to add to the list?

S&M Monday

2009-03-22T21:38:00.000-07:00

Who Should be Present at Your birthing?

The birthing energy flows smoothest when everyone present is part of the crew, helping the baby to its birth. If some of the other people present are spectators, or what we call "passengers," the birth can be slowed down by hours or can even be halted until come change takes place in the energy. This is because anyone whose presence is not an actual help is requiring the emotional support that should be going to the mother.

You may feel that you would like to have some close friends or relative be with you, as well as your husband. This is fine as long as the person you choose is someone you would feel alright with in life-and-death levels of tripping/ Don't let anyone pressure you to let them attend your birthing.

We feel that it's a good idea to arrange for a close friend or relative to take care of your other children while you are in labor and for a few days after the baby is born. The baby being born needs your full, undivided attention, which can be hard to give if your other young children are present. The energy of a birthing is very high and intense.

Young children usually don't have disciplined enough attention habits to keep from interfering with the flow of energy of the birthing. Besides this, a child can easily mistake his mother's intensity during labor for discomfort, and worry about her, or think that she is in danger if he sees any blood.

We have has a few deliveries which were witnessed by a young child who woke up during the delivery and watched quietly, drawing no attention to himself. This felt so right at the time that we had no thought of interfering with the child's watching this sacred event.

You might have a teen-age daughter who you would like to have present at your birthing. This is okay, but you should keep in mind that you will be influencing her attitudes toward birth, so you should be very sure if both her and yourself.

-pg.238

YellowMomma Creations

2009-03-21T07:45:00.000-07:00

Now available for order:

Crochet Flower accessories

small $2medium $4large $6
if you would like to order more than one we can make a deal on pricing

Crochet Doll $40

Hair, skin and dress color can be customized

To order contact goingfullhippie@gmail.com

Prices are negotiable , as well as colors and sizes of all products

Hot Momma

2009-03-19T19:45:00.001-07:00

We went to National Ballroom Dancesport Championships on Saturday. We left the older two kids with a babysitter and took our BeauBaby with us.

Even though the baby was with us it was a nice date, I haven't been on a real 'dress up' date in a while. I love to dress up, can you tell?

that's a maternity shirt, and no, I'm not pregnant, it's just pretty. Thank goodness that this shirt is 'in' right now so I can get away with it. And my shoes are sassy, I wish you could see them here. That cleavage is good for two things, husband oogling and nursing. Both happened while we were there.

This was our favorite couple of the whole night. They were adorable, couldn't have been more than 7 or 8. The coupld in the white is 14, so imagine the age difference. These little guys were hilarious to watch and I just had to video tape them. They took home second, the crowd was not happy about that.

Food for thought

2009-03-17T08:36:00.002-07:00

An interesting and thought provoking rebuttal to this article.

Just something to think about.

My theme song

2009-03-17T08:28:00.000-07:00

Every morning I wake up to this song. My amazing husband burned it for me and set it up so that this song is what wakes me up in the morning. It makes my day.

the full song can be found here

RAGE

2009-03-16T14:16:00.000-07:00

not an emotion I experience often. But right now I am so angry.

The little shit who lives behind me pulled up all of my budding flowers. All the blossoms I had been watching for weeks and anticipating in the next few months, are gone. He even opened the buds of flowers that hadn't even bloomed yet. My front yard is littered with the dead remains of daffodils, tulips, and I think chrysanthemums.

I HATE THIS NEIGHBORHOOD

Nothing is private, nothing is left alone. I wanted to get a pretty yard decoration to make my house look nice, and I wound up not getting it because I knew it would get broken. I can't watch my yards all the time, especially not when other peoples kids are in them.

I am pissed

We have a big fancy play house out in the back from when we had money. Yeah, someone broke it. The sky light was busted and the table has been ripped out. Ohhh, how I wish for a fence. I live in a place where no one watches their kids. I have to tell other peoples kids not to climb on cars/boats that are parked on the street. My kids aren't even out there, where are these parents? I don't get it and I am so fed up, but what can I do?

I called Jake in tears that my precious flowers has been massacred. I have been waiting for those for weeks, and now I will never get the chance to see them bloom. At least not this year.

people, watch your kids. they are your responsibility. I hate being your babysitter. I hate fixing/buying things for my kids because your idiots of children can't figure out how to be sociably responsible. I know that my son would never dream of pulling parts off your toys, where do yours get that idea?

Oh my gosh. So much anger, and only 6 and 7 year olds to direct it at, which makes me angry with myself. IT is so sick and wrong that it makes me so angry. i have little enough going for me, but I have been waiting for those blossoms all dreary winter, I have watched them push through the cold dirt and start to to open.

I"m just done, I am so done. I want to move, but I love this house. Everyone pray for my neighbors to move, please.

2009-03-16T05:29:00.000-07:00

A nursing mother is really a Holy and sacred thing. If she'll really give her kid some and really let go, she can become a tremendous generator of physic energy. That energy is for the baby. They say, "Man does not live by bread alone." A kid that's been breast-fed for the first few months of his life is not making it on just the milk, he's making it on pure energy, which is being given to him in the form of - call it sexual if you like- vibrations. Those sexual love vibrations are a manifestation of the Holy Spirit. When a child is nursing and soaks it up, it's good for the child and it makes him prosper and it makes him fatter, just as if it had put something material on him. You can come up to any lady who has a new baby and who's in love with that baby, and you can tune into it and it's just like the Christ child. The Catholic Church shows those pictures called "Adoration of the Infant." To adore is to put your attention on somebody and become receptive to them, feel their vibrations in a telepathic and loving place, and it's the way you approach babies and Holy men and people like that. In religious art there are pictures of a bunch of people sitting around a baby and a baby has all these power lines coming out of his head and glows and has auras. You can see that on all new babies if you pay good enough attention and be pure in heart.

-Stephen, pg. 259

I swear I will never eat oatmeal cookies ever again, NEVER

2009-03-11T14:28:00.000-07:00

Possibly one of the worst things to eat before contracting the flu.

A horrible slightly over 48 hour bug that had me writhing in pain and took me on a midnight trip to the ER for a lovely bag of saline. Ahhhh, hydration.

A wonderful thanks to my husband, for assuming my duties for 2 days; to my poppa, for being my midnight chauffeur (sorry you were so tired, you snored a bit); and to Kristy for the wonderfully flavorless sick meal. And I mean that in the best way. It was one of the first things I ate, and it wasn't too heavy or full of smells, it was a nice chicken and rice meal. Perfect.

I am able to keep food and fluids within my body once again. I am still a bit weak, 5 pounds lighter, and am living within a home that hasn't been cleaned. But what else is new, eh?

Going Full Hippie

8 years: A Love Story

Late night ramblings

Earrings: good; Shaving: not so much

Why I deleted my Facebook account

An impulsive spirit

*La*

Barefoot: yay or nay?

It's hot enough to...

Moving On

S & M Monday

Longing for Spring

Responsibilities

Would you circumcise your daughter?

Strength, Courage and Wisdom

What to say when I have nothing to say? Plenty.

Baby Expos ain't for the baby anymore

A nice change

because I can

It's been one of those months

See? It can happen!

Why I'm fat

Adventures in 'running'

Dangit, now I want ice cream

Labor Day Sales hangover

S & M Monday

ooh la-la

S and M Monday

not much

just the basics

Just filling a few orders

TMI: just a warning

It's that time of year

because I don't have enough to do

We are mammals, after all

S & M Monday

blogging vs. journaling

ps

letting it all hang out

uhh, stuff

the reality of a sewing momma

Reconciliation

Did you know...

The challenge

Summer Heat

Even Momma's like to celebrate Fairy Day

What's really important?

Finger Puppet Giveaway

Tales of a crafting Momma

boo-hoo to no-poo

A poem

10 reasons why I hate Wal-Mart

One to cross my list

S & M Monday

It's hard to be a hippie

gushy husband post

Headless, naked dolls

They say it's the thought that counts

If anything be virtuous, lovely, of good report, or praise worthy, we seek after these things.

Apparently I'm an ape like prostitute

Poor Man's Plagarism

Travelin' Abby

S & M Monday

Why I've decided to stop shaving my legs

S & M Monday

My good deeds

Dumping

And the winner is...

Pot-purry (never could spell that word right)

Last day for the spring giveaway

S & M Monday

Spring Giveaway

Behold: the hippie pants

escape

Everythings amazing, and nobody's happy

Awesome giveaway

Truth in advertising

Adventures in Y mountain and why I love getting up early

I didn't go outside at all today, I promise.

Homemade Easter

La