"How do I do it all?"

I get asked that question frequently. In some ways the innocent inquiry causes me to fret. Am I doing too much and therefore inadvertently neglecting something? True, I never feel like there are enough hours in the day, but I was under the impression I wasn't alone in that boat. Do they not notice that I eschew fashion, grooming, writing, reading for pleasure, gardening, going out with girlfriends and have given up on a tidy home so I can do it "all"? 

Peace Cranes in GlobeHopper Window

At this moment in time, I feel as if our family is in transition. When I say transition, I'm referring to the term used in childbirth and labor. Transition is the shortest but most difficult part of labor. It is a time to surrender ( I wept through the first one and was ecstatic  the second go around). It was also a time when I, personally, knew what I was made of. I learned that I was much stronger than I knew.

So, that is how I do it "all." I keep persevering. I choose my priorities. I persist. I know that my efforts will result in a birth after this challenging transition. Chris, while still unemployed, is working to achieve his goal of finding fulfilling work . I am practically living my dream of running a coffeeshop and we are doing it together. Together we educate (ie.homeschool) our children and they are active participants in this labor of love, this creation of a life that is deeply satisfying, this mystifying process of becoming. We don't do it all but we try to do the things worthy of being done.

And if we do our jobs with mindfulness and love, they too will learn that they are much stronger than they know...and by the way, so are you.

Pawpaws

                  Where oh ,where oh, where is Kimmy? Where oh, where oh, where is Kimmy?

                                       Way down yonder in the paw paw patch!

Goodness how the month FLEW by. I wrote several blog entries in my head but couldn't carve out the time to type! There is the one about healthcare, the one about camping buy they'll have to wait. Today I'm talking paw paws. At the coffeeshop I offered a free coffee refill to anyone who could identify the sweet smelling fruit but none were able. I was surprised. I gave them plenty of clues. Like: I picked them yesterday by the river, they are native to this area and a popular children's folk song features this fruit.

So, after picking pawpaws, wading in the river and lounging on rocks I brought my bounty home. When I awoke the entire house was laden with the nearly cloying,sweet fragrance of pawpaws. I went to work and couldn't wait to come home and make some paw paw bread (which is baking as I type this).

Pawpaws  (Asimina), according to Wikipedia, are  is a genus of small clustered trees with large leaves and fruit, native to North America. The genus includes the largest edible fruit indigenous to the continent. They are understory trees found in well drained deep fertile bottomland and hilly upland habitat. Pawpaw is in the same family (Annonaceae) as the custard-apple, cherimoya, sweetsop, ylang-ylang and soursop, and it is the only member of that family not confined to the tropics.

Indeed, one would think they are a tropical fruit. The flesh resembles that of a mango. They taste like a mango-banana-papaya hybrid. One of my field guides says the pawpaw is the largest indigenous,edible fruit in North America.

A brief Google search brought about MANY paw paw recipes from jams and pies to paw paw wine and custard. Personally, I'm making a quickbread that would usually call for banana and I'm substituting paw paw! Apparent;y, there is even a Paw Paw Festival in Albany ,Ohio next weekend. If I were nearby, I'd definitely be checking it out. There's also a town called Pawpaw in Michigan. There are even articles and website dedicated to pawpaw research, which is being studied for its use in fighting cancer.

Foraging for food and identifying plants and animals is a hobby of mine. As a young girl I was always fascinated with my bestfriend's mother, who was able to point to something and name it. There's a jack-in-the-pulpit, that's a Lady Slipper. I remember her growing rhubard, canning, and talking about pawpaws. So in a way, I have Janet Howard (longerbeam) to thank for my facination with naming the flora and fauna in my world and for introducing me to pawpaws!

wealth

Aside from the abundance of peppers, figs, tomatoes, singing, humming, working and writing going on in this household; there are also ample amounts of art. We may be paying our mortgage late, wearing our shoes thin, testing our inner strengths and stretching the budget beyond it's limits...I still feel wealthy.

I wisely used a small amount of our tax returns in February to pay for some summer Artventure classes for Cruxien and Anwen at the Richmond Visual Arts Center. It was a valuable experience for them both in more ways than one. Boychild learned about expectations and what to do when things don't go as he expects. I learned that girlchild would prefer I not be around for her classes (but my presence was required.) It was very interesting for me because Cruxien has always preferred that I stick around.

Anwen thoroughly enjoyed her ceramic class and showed great ability to work three dimensionally. Cruxien took a week long stained glass class and found himself pleasantly challenged, working on a larger piece than he has ever done before. He also just finished up a junk sculpture class and had tons of fun working with the materials.

Chris has been busy writing and learning some new things about website designing and HTML code. He is also quite pleased with the Teddy Bear sunflowers he finally managed to grow in the face of great adversity and struggle (ie. birds). Meanwhile, when I'm not working. I'm fussing with cooking, sauteing, baking, trading and preserving figs while the weeds slowly take over the garden.

Yes, if anyone asks, we ARE wealthy!

boy, girl, boy, girl

                     "Keep thou an open door between thy child's life and thine own."

                                                from Mother Stories by Maud Lindsay

I've marched, protested and organized for Women's Rights. I've read feminist theory and written papers on the male gaze, the family, and women and religion, amongst other things. Most of my university learning on the feminist angle went out the window when I became a mother. The majority of it became theoretical and unsuited to any sort of practicality in the day to day rigors of modern life. I first noticed this when my son was a year old and I brought him to a monthly National Organization for Women meeting. I was quickly made to know that my undisruptive child wasn't welcome. I started looking for support within the feminist community but came to see that I had silently been absorbing a message all of my life that the role of motherhood didn't necessarily jive with the notions of feminism. The role had been stigmatized as the seat of our suppression. The ability to create was the root cause of patriarchy and had to be demonized , in a way, in order to progress. (This is an oversimplification but is where my mind was working at the time.)

So as I wrestled with becoming a mother, starting nearly ten years ago, and I came to terms with my own kind of feminism. One that welcomes all women: even bohemian, art loving, blue collar, simple living, uninsured, homeschooling, homebirthing, breastfeeding, radical chef mamas like me.

I found solace in books such as: Mamaphonic: Balancing Motherhood and Other Creative Acts by Bee Lavender and Maia Rossini. The Impossibility of Motherhood by Patri DiQuinzio. I read online journals of so many different kinds of mothers that I find it puzzling that anyone could think motherhood is just one thing. It is not. It is a complicated process of becoming and growing, a process that, hopefully, results in children growing into adulthood; taking care of themselves and prospering. There many paths to that end. One thing is for certain, the process directly affects the parents as much as it affects the child.

As I become a parent, I can recognize more clearly the affects of my own parents' parenting. I use this as a guide sometimes. Using the bits that I think worked and tossing the ones that didn't. I discover my own methods, search for better ones and all the while I'm still trying to get my own life "right."

Being a feminist, I thought I would somehow be able to negotiate gender roles differences for my children. Somehow I would help my children escape the pitfalls of stereotypes of gender. He would play with dolls. She would love trucks. He would play dressup and  go to ballet class if he wanted. She would grow up knowing she could fight fires , be president or drive tractor trailers if she chose to do so. It didn't take long to realize that our culture is stronger than just two parents and the path would be a slippery one. Chris and I work hard to help our children differentiate between real life and the advertised life. The messages that are sent about beauty, what it means to be "masculine" and what it means to be happy. Advertisers spend billions trying to get into our children's psyche. Telling them what they want to eat, to do, to see, to wish for, to aspire, to WANT WANT WANT! It is on T.V., PC, buses, billboards, bananas, shoes, shirts, in the mouths and heads of everyone around....

Our only defense is perspective. We help them be critical. I write this, but I still worry, especially for my daughter, who is five. In the last month she has uttered two sentences that have been wriggling around in my heart like a blackberry thorn that cannot be dug out with tweezers.

"Mommy, I don't want to grow up because then no one will say I'm cute."

"I don't want to wear the purple polka-dot dress because it makes me look fat."

Cute. EVERYONE says Anwen is cute. Five years of people saying you are cute and commenting on your clothes can make an impact. People stopped commenting on our boychild's looks probably around age three. After that, they begin commenting on physical prowess and brain power. Of course, if you are a boy, like Cruxien, who eschews sports, pokemon, violent video games, rough play, power rangers and other so called "boy" activities, you have another set of issues. He is gentle. She is fiery and prone to hitting. I love the twist.

So here I am in this interesting space called motherhood, wondering how to help my children navigate the murky depths of gender roles. I really want to do this right. By right, I mean, I want them to feel comfortable and happy doing what they love regardless of gender role expectations. Certainly, the "answer" is to keep up the critical discussions about pop culture and keep up the dialogue. The longer I am at this, the better I come to realize that there is great power in the words that we exchange with our children, even when we think they aren't pay us any mind.

* Cruxien and I in 2001. VCU campus, Feminist Action Network's "Love Your Body Day" table.

fig frenzy

There are few things that get me giddy in August and figs are one of them! While preserving (or anything really) isn't my strong suit;I haven't had trouble finding something to do with fresh figs. When I'm not giving them away to customers at the coffeeshop, or popping them straight in my mouth, I can whip up some tasty dishes like these two I made yesterday. Fresh Fig cookies with nutmeg and pecans made into a homemade Icecream sandwich and Roasted fig and Goat Cheese salad with vegetables from our garden! There will be a repeat tonight! With fresh figs, you have to be present...their time is fleeting !