My dear, dear, fierce and fearless friend Tara from All Sparkly and Shit recently posted a blog detailing the comments that many childless women have to deal with regarding their lack of offspring. You can check it out here.
Near the end of her post, she brings up a point that just because she doesn't have children, doesn't mean that she doesn't mother. This is something that is so true, and gets overlooked far too frequently.
Tara is a mother in the best sense of the word. Within 30 seconds of meeting me she was already sitting me down to help me with my eyebrows and making sure that my cleavage was properly bronzed. And it wasn't in a "I need to fix you" way, but in a, "I care about you and want you to feel your best" way that hasn't stopped since I met her. The next day she was giving my kiddo her iPad at a wedding to help keep him occupied while I was tending to my responsibilities. Again, I had just met her 24 hours prior! She continually reaches out, listens, motivates, celebrates and encourages all of her friends to be the best them that they can be. She is every bit a mother to all of us. A mother of the heart.
When she made her post, and linked it on Facebook, many people chimed in saying that they too had come under similar criticism as she has, and all the while I was right with them, shouting indignantly at all of those jerks and their insensitive comments.
But wait. I have a kid. I am a mother in the most traditional sense of the word. So why did this resonate so deeply for me?
When you ask me to describe myself, one of the first words that will come to mind is "mother". Usually this is followed up with "How many do you have?" and when I answer with one, inevitably it's followed up with "Do you want more?"
How do I even answer that question? Because it shouldn't even be asked. WANT has nothing to do with it. You don't know my situation. Maybe I can't have more. Maybe I am just happy with one. Maybe that was always the plan. Maybe there wasn't a plan, and I am just trying to do my best with what life has handed me. It shouldn't matter. Because me being a mother has nothing to do with whether or not I have birthed a child.
A couple months ago I was having one of those "Am I doing a good enough job as a parent?" moments. And my dear friend who was listening to me blather on about my feared inadequacies, stopped me and said "I can tell you from experience that you are a good mother, because you have been mothering me for years, and you are great at it." It was one of the best compliments I have ever received.
Mothering is about caring for someone enough to tell them when they are wrong, and still being a soft landing place to fall when they don't listen to you and do the wrong thing anyway. It's about pushing people to be their best selves while still loving their every flaw. It's about asking them to text you when they get home and legit panicking when they forget because all you want to know is that they are safe. It's cooking big family meals from scratch and sometimes just ordering pizza. It's knowing when to let go and when to hold on fiercely. It's loving, always loving, even when it's hard.
I am proud that I am a mother. To my child, to my family, to my friends. I am also proud that I have so many wonderful mothers in my life. Women, men, the ones that have birthed children and the ones whose children are anyone that they have taken into their hearts and their arms. Motherhood is beautiful and should be celebrated no matter what form it takes.
Friday, July 17, 2015
Wednesday, July 15, 2015
Pop Culture Echoes
I have always been an avid consumer of pop culture. TV, Movies, Music, Books, Sports.
Even as a baby, the only thing that could lull me off to dreamland were the dulcet tones of a nacent MTV. Video Killed the Radio Star become my favorite lullaby.
Which is why the revelation I had recently should not have been a surprise.
I was talking to one of my newer friends, trying to describe the bond that I have with another friend, a half-my-lifetime friend, who I actually rarely, VERY rarely speak to. And I was at a loss for words. All I could come up with were references. "She's part of my YaYa Sisterhood, if I've ever had one. No, that's not quite right. Have you seen Now and Then? It's more like that. She's Sam and I'm Crissy. Oh. You never seen it. Hm." And the entire time Summer Sisters by Judy Blume kept popping up in my brain, but I didn't even bother bringing that one up.
At first I was just frustrated that this new friend and I lacked a shared cultural history. That I didn't have that shorthand to lean on to describe my feelings.
But the more I thought about these friendships, the more I realized that part of the issue is that I do define them in these sorts of terms. And it is true with almost every relationship in my life. I have these literary or cinematic reference points that I have tied people to and it isn't in the normal "when I hear this song it reminds me of them" sense. It is: These people are my Sisterhood. This one is my "bosom friend", the Anne of Green Gables to my Diana (because face it, as much as I like to think I am an Anne, I am SO a Diana). They are the Westley to my Buttercup.
And all of these associations really do a disservice to these dear people in my life. They can't live up to these fictional ideals, and I shouldn't hold them to those standards. It's not fair to them.
It's not fair to me either. I allow myself to get disappointed that my relationships aren't more like the characters that I relate to, and if I stopped the comparisons I could see the true value that all of these people bring to my life.
Even as a baby, the only thing that could lull me off to dreamland were the dulcet tones of a nacent MTV. Video Killed the Radio Star become my favorite lullaby.
Which is why the revelation I had recently should not have been a surprise.
I was talking to one of my newer friends, trying to describe the bond that I have with another friend, a half-my-lifetime friend, who I actually rarely, VERY rarely speak to. And I was at a loss for words. All I could come up with were references. "She's part of my YaYa Sisterhood, if I've ever had one. No, that's not quite right. Have you seen Now and Then? It's more like that. She's Sam and I'm Crissy. Oh. You never seen it. Hm." And the entire time Summer Sisters by Judy Blume kept popping up in my brain, but I didn't even bother bringing that one up.
At first I was just frustrated that this new friend and I lacked a shared cultural history. That I didn't have that shorthand to lean on to describe my feelings.
But the more I thought about these friendships, the more I realized that part of the issue is that I do define them in these sorts of terms. And it is true with almost every relationship in my life. I have these literary or cinematic reference points that I have tied people to and it isn't in the normal "when I hear this song it reminds me of them" sense. It is: These people are my Sisterhood. This one is my "bosom friend", the Anne of Green Gables to my Diana (because face it, as much as I like to think I am an Anne, I am SO a Diana). They are the Westley to my Buttercup.
And all of these associations really do a disservice to these dear people in my life. They can't live up to these fictional ideals, and I shouldn't hold them to those standards. It's not fair to them.
It's not fair to me either. I allow myself to get disappointed that my relationships aren't more like the characters that I relate to, and if I stopped the comparisons I could see the true value that all of these people bring to my life.
Friday, May 15, 2015
Selfie Update #3
It's been a bit since my last selfie update. In the past several weeks, it has become more routine for me to be taking these to the point where I am starting to hit the end of the day and realize that I haven't taken one yet, or I go back through my photos and find that I evidently have some days where I didn't take one at all, though I thought I did. Then I have other days where there are SO MANY. I did notice that I have a lot more post-workout sweaty pics than I thought. Not sure why I keep taking those, but it IS a much bigger part of my life now, so I guess it makes sense.
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| (totally forgot one today, but isn't this pretty?!!?) |
Tuesday, April 28, 2015
Chronic Nostalgia
I am a chronic re-reader.
There I have admitted it.
There are very, very few books that I have read only once, never to pick up again.
I could wax philosophical about the new depths that open to me with each additional reading, how passages seem to change meaning over time, or how I learn about myself by how I react differently to books that I once loved and maybe don't as much any more.
But it is actually much simpler. I just like re-reading. It's like visiting with old friends. There is comfort and security in knowing where the story is going. There are friendly faces with every page turn. Familiar streets to wander down, familiar forests to explore.
I have always loved stories that make me feel like I am inhabiting the world that they describe. That's why I like series, I'm sure, because I learn more and more about the worlds as time goes on, and I don't have to leave quite so soon. Re-reading lets me get back into the worlds, to see them again.
I suppose it is the same personality quirk that keeps me vacationing in the same spots over and over again, and the reason why I still live in my hometown. I always say that I want to travel, and there is a part of me that does. That wants to see new places and new horizons. But the rest of me doesn't want to leave my favorite haunts in the past. I want to return to them over and over, see how they have changed, relish how they have stayed the same.
I am a nostalgic soul.
There I have admitted it.
There are very, very few books that I have read only once, never to pick up again.
I could wax philosophical about the new depths that open to me with each additional reading, how passages seem to change meaning over time, or how I learn about myself by how I react differently to books that I once loved and maybe don't as much any more.
But it is actually much simpler. I just like re-reading. It's like visiting with old friends. There is comfort and security in knowing where the story is going. There are friendly faces with every page turn. Familiar streets to wander down, familiar forests to explore.
I have always loved stories that make me feel like I am inhabiting the world that they describe. That's why I like series, I'm sure, because I learn more and more about the worlds as time goes on, and I don't have to leave quite so soon. Re-reading lets me get back into the worlds, to see them again.
I suppose it is the same personality quirk that keeps me vacationing in the same spots over and over again, and the reason why I still live in my hometown. I always say that I want to travel, and there is a part of me that does. That wants to see new places and new horizons. But the rest of me doesn't want to leave my favorite haunts in the past. I want to return to them over and over, see how they have changed, relish how they have stayed the same.
I am a nostalgic soul.
Monday, March 30, 2015
Mixology Monday - The RoCoCo
I love creating new cocktails, or putting my own twist on a classic.
A while back, there were these billboards on my way to work advertising Malibu Rum Sparkler, a rum based sparkling beverage that comes in a champagne bottle.
At first I thought it sounded silly, way too sweet, and low in alcohol content, something along the lines of a wine cooler. But I really love coconut, so I kept thinking I should maybe try it.
Then, one day, my friend posted a picture of a half-drunk bottle on facebook, and when I queried her opinion, she told me that it was NOT that sweet, and it was waaaaaay stronger than she expected.
Not too sweet? Coconutty? Bubbly? Strong? This was sounding more and more up my alley.
So finally I broke down and got myself a bottle.
I chilled it, and tasted it, and it's delightful. A nice, light, refreshing drink, much more along the lines of a sparkling wine than I was expecting.
I, however, could not leave it alone. It seemed like it would be great for mixing, but all of the initial ideas were falling flat for me. Pineapple juice, the natural complement, was out because I don't like it. Using any other mixers made me feel like I would be diluting it too much.
So then I started pondering what other booze I could mix it with. More coconut rum seemed like it would be overkill. Then I struck upon the idea of doing a riff on a classic champagne cocktail.
Most champagne cocktails use a sugar cube that is soaked in bitters, cognac or brandy, and sparkling wine. For my drink, I thought the bitters would compete with the coconut too much, but I did want something to ground the drink and take it in a richer direction. After some playing around, I settled on some vanilla extract as the perfect substitute. It gives the drink a creamy edge that makes you just want to settle down inside it.
I have made the drink with both brandy and with gold rum, and I really prefer the complexity that brandy offers. However, if you have none in the house, or just prefer a lighter tasting drink, rum works quite well.
----The RoCoCo ----
(Please excuse the cell phone photos. These are from my dear friend Amanda's birthday where I made these drinks to go in the new glasses I got her.)
1 sugar cube
5 drops vanilla extract
1 oz brandy (or gold rum)
4 oz Malibu Rum Sparkler
Place one sugar cube in the bottom of a champagne flute or coupe.
Drip 5 drops of vanilla onto the cube, allowing the vanilla to soak in.
Pour one ounce of brandy over the sugar cube.
Fill the glass with Malibu Rum Sparkler.
A while back, there were these billboards on my way to work advertising Malibu Rum Sparkler, a rum based sparkling beverage that comes in a champagne bottle.
At first I thought it sounded silly, way too sweet, and low in alcohol content, something along the lines of a wine cooler. But I really love coconut, so I kept thinking I should maybe try it.
Then, one day, my friend posted a picture of a half-drunk bottle on facebook, and when I queried her opinion, she told me that it was NOT that sweet, and it was waaaaaay stronger than she expected.
Not too sweet? Coconutty? Bubbly? Strong? This was sounding more and more up my alley.
So finally I broke down and got myself a bottle.
I chilled it, and tasted it, and it's delightful. A nice, light, refreshing drink, much more along the lines of a sparkling wine than I was expecting.
I, however, could not leave it alone. It seemed like it would be great for mixing, but all of the initial ideas were falling flat for me. Pineapple juice, the natural complement, was out because I don't like it. Using any other mixers made me feel like I would be diluting it too much.
So then I started pondering what other booze I could mix it with. More coconut rum seemed like it would be overkill. Then I struck upon the idea of doing a riff on a classic champagne cocktail.
Most champagne cocktails use a sugar cube that is soaked in bitters, cognac or brandy, and sparkling wine. For my drink, I thought the bitters would compete with the coconut too much, but I did want something to ground the drink and take it in a richer direction. After some playing around, I settled on some vanilla extract as the perfect substitute. It gives the drink a creamy edge that makes you just want to settle down inside it.
I have made the drink with both brandy and with gold rum, and I really prefer the complexity that brandy offers. However, if you have none in the house, or just prefer a lighter tasting drink, rum works quite well.
----The RoCoCo ----
(Please excuse the cell phone photos. These are from my dear friend Amanda's birthday where I made these drinks to go in the new glasses I got her.)
1 sugar cube
5 drops vanilla extract
1 oz brandy (or gold rum)
4 oz Malibu Rum Sparkler
Place one sugar cube in the bottom of a champagne flute or coupe.
Drip 5 drops of vanilla onto the cube, allowing the vanilla to soak in.
Pour one ounce of brandy over the sugar cube.
Fill the glass with Malibu Rum Sparkler.
Wednesday, March 25, 2015
Selfie Update #2
It's been a couple of weeks since my last selfie update! I keep taking them, even when I don't want to, and it's been really eye opening. Last week I decided to chop my hair, and got about 6 inches taken off. It's been really freeing and fun, and reinvigorated my selfies, for sure!
You'll see there are some pics of me working out thrown in here. It's a new thing for me, this exercising regularly, and even though I feel like I look terrible in some of these shots, I want to document the journey.
You'll see there are some pics of me working out thrown in here. It's a new thing for me, this exercising regularly, and even though I feel like I look terrible in some of these shots, I want to document the journey.
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