Men.

My husband came in the door yesterday and informed me that he had bought my Christmas present. He wanted to know if we had any wrapping paper. I told him, "No, but you could just use a paper bag."

Picturing something like this...

Source: Making This Home

Or this...

Source: The Thrifty Crafter

Or even this...

Source: Daily Blessings

...

This is what I found under the tree later.

I love this man. 

The Island of Misfit Toys (Holiday Musings from a Weekend with my Loves)

This past weekend was the first full weekend that Brian, Athena and I had spent together in almost two months. Between Brian's taking classes one weekend a month for the past four months, and working extra hours on a Christmas tree farm, family time has been scarce. Valued. But scarce. So we just hung out. Our little family. For the whole weekend.

It was wonderful.

I love this man so much. I am so grateful to have such a strong-working, kind, loving and thoughtful man as my partner through this wacky, wonderful journey that is life, parenthood, learning to love deeper and growing older.

I have often heard people say "having kids ruins your marriage". I agree. The marriage that we had before Little Owl came along is no more.

It is better.

The transition from a young, care-free couple to full-time parents happened over about a five hour period. It's is only now, six months later, that I am looking back and really impressed with how well we have both coped with such a sudden upheaval to our former lives and our former selves. There is only one word.

Grateful.

The holidays have been a blur for me this year so far. I can't believe Christmas is only two weekends away. I barely had time to realize it was Thanksgiving before it past. Forget Halloween. I don't even remember what I was doing.

I remember this time of year as a kid. Things were so different. The gap between Halloween and Christmas felt like an eternity. The Turkey Eating Day was just a weird thing we did between the two real holidays-- the Candy Day and the Present Day. I would sit around in anticipation staring at our family's advent calendar once it finally hung on the wall December 1st and count down the number of days left  until the Present Day--every day-- multiple times a day. What can I say? I was a kid.

I am no longer that same kid. In so many ways I still feel so childish. But, in others I really don't. I feel very grown up. I have a kid of my own. A kid who I wish one thing for. To grow up to be an adult who is

Grateful.

Part of what I did over the week was sort through a large (huge!) box of hand-me-down clothes that I have been given from numerous families in our community for Little Owl. Wonderful clothes. So many clothes. I sorted through them and put together a large bagful that I didn't want. Why? Because they had stains on them. No holes, no tears, just stains. I couldn't help but think, "what a luxury." There are a lot of people around the world who would take those clothes in a heart beat.

I am not claiming I am some sort of ascetic, nor do I want to be. Nor do I want my child to be. But, what I do want is to be aware of what I have and not just expect to be given more, more, more or buy more, more, more like TV, magazines, radio, snail mail ads, internet ads, etc. all tell us we should.

One of Brian's and my favorite things to do together is go to thrift store hunting. We've done this since we were dating. It's a mutual love we came into our relationship with. Pretty funny in a lot of ways. But it's one of those things where we when we have free time and we don't know what to do one of us suggests "We could go to Goodwill...?" and we usually do. Typically, we don't buy anything. Occasionally we will score a sweet deal that we purchase and take home. But mostly, we just browse.

True to form, on Sunday as we were out running other errands we stopped at Goodwill. I don't think I had ever been to a thrift store this time of year. If you want an eye-opener about what this Christmas Holiday is about to most Americans, go to a thrift store. There were rows and rows and rows and rows of unopened toys-- dolls, monster trucks, mini kitchens, nerf guns, stuffed animals, barbies, doll clothes, legos, and more, more, more. All unused. All unopened. Unwanted gifts. Gifts that money had been wasted on--not just by the person who bought them, but by the people who make them, the people who assemble them, the people who ship them, the people who advertise them....

Later that day I was at a department store where I stood in line behind a family who was unloading their cart full of toys. Hundreds of dollars of toys. Toys that make noise, toys that are shiny and pink, toys that are fluffy, toys that you don't need any imagination to play with. And, of course, I couldn't help but think of those rows and rows of toys at Goodwill.

Have you ever seen the stop/motion animated Rudolph the Red-Nosed reindeer by Rankin/Bass? The one with the Island of Misfit Toys that Rudolph and Santa visit? The island where all the toys that no boys or girls wanted end up. Lonely, dejected, gloomy dolls, stuffed animals, trains and other sad toys. As a kid watching Rudolph interact with these sad "people" I felt sorry for them. I wanted to comfort them, and tell them that I liked them. That they could come live with me and I would love them. We were supposed to feel sorry for them. That's what the director wanted. That way, Rudolph could be a hero in the eyes of every little boy and girl under the age of eight.

That's what I thought of when I saw those rows of unopened boxed toys at Goodwill and those toys at the check out stand at the department store (most likely all of whom would one day or another inevitably end up at a place like Goodwill...), but instead of feeling sorry for those toys, I felt sorry for us.

Look how far we have come. From a Holiday who's tradition stems back to the story of one woman's unattended home birth of her baby boy in an unimportant town after she had taken a long trip on a small donkey only to stay the night in a dirty stall that was used for feeding animals because all the hotel rooms had already been taken by other travelers....

I feel sorry for all of us this time of year. There is so much pressure to spend money. To want gifts, buy gifts, sell gifts, make gifts, give gifts. More, more, more.

I am not opposed to gift-giving or gift-getting. I love giving and making gifts for those I love and value dearly. I think it is a wonderful way of showing you care. There is a lot I like about the Present Day, but I think from now on I am going to make sure that I go to Goodwill every year this time of year. And, I will take my family with me.

I wish you all a blessed and gratitude-filled holiday season.

*sigh*

I have been out of the blogosphere for a while. Little Owl, Brian and I went up to Seattle to visit relatives. We had a wonderful time but it really is amazing how being gone for just a weekend can make you feel so behind.

I was hoping to get caught up on life a bit today but so far it feels like the only thing I have succeeded at is creating more laundry for myself. Since we have been back Little Owl seems to be either starting teething or fighting off a bug (quite possible since her new thing is putting everything in her mouth). The only place she is happy is in my arms. Her naps have been short and infrequent (aka nonexistent...) and she seems to be suffering from an ailment common among infants known as "leaky but syndrome". *teehee*

*sigh*

This is life. This is life with a baby. She won't always be a baby. On days like this I have to remind myself of that. I know I will look back on this day and laugh. I guess I can even laugh a little about it now. It really wasn't funny at the time but you have to admit it was classic when I went to change her diaper and she immediately projectile pooped all over herself, all down my pants, the bedspread and onto the floor...

Yup. That about sums up how I feel right now.

*sigh*

First year problems.

Over and outta here. Hope you are having a good night.

Thought for the day...

This post shared on: ThrivingOnThursdays, 

A slap in the face...

It was one of those days. One of those days I was feeling very sorry for myself. I had been stuck at home without a car for the entire day before because Brian had to take it to work. I felt like I was going batty. At the suggestion of my wise mother I decided to get out of the house.

My mother offered to give Little Owl and I a ride to a coffee shop so I could hang out away from home while my mom ran some errands. Little Owl fell asleep in the car. Perfect. I could hang out and read (a rare luxury these days).

We stopped the car. I got out, transferred my 17 pound bundle of joy to my Ergobaby carrier, and walked inside.

And, of course, as soon as I sat down... she woke up. Classic.

Not just a little wake up. She was WIDE awake. The coffee shop was alive. She wanted to be a part of it. She started screeching at the top of her lungs at a little girl sitting with her family next to us, at the guy across the way, at the woman ordering at the counter. She wanted to know and greet each person in turn.

Now, mind you, this baby girl has a set of lungs. (She has been practicing for her upcoming audition for the Metropolitan Opera for the past two months. I am pretty confident she will beat out the competition no problem.)

We are talking screeching. (Maybe we shouldn't have nick-named her Little Owl...maybe she got the wrong idea...?). Screeching so intense that when I give her a bath the sound reverberates through the bathroom and I swear part of my brain leaks out my ears...

So there I was bemoaning my pre-baby past. A past life when I could just sit and sip a cup of tea and read a book in peace. Instead, I was feeling extremely self-conscious. Despite how I was feelng, people were actually being quite kind. They were smiling at my babies happy (LOUD) noises.  But I wondered how long it would last. Surely eventually they would get annoyed. Granted the environment we were in was not a library... it was a very noisy one. But, I was still feeling awkward. Dare I even say... embarrassed?

When, walks into my life, a reminder.

This woman comes up to me carrying a baby girl around the same age as mine. She smiles at me and says to Athena, "We heard you and just had to come say hi" The girls coo at each other and practice blowing raspberries. The interaction is between them is quite endearing and adorable.

I mumble something like "I know" with a slight eye roll. She poopoos my response with "Oh, we think it's wonderful! Such happy noises". She's right. My baby is happy. Extremely happy. And that joy comes out in her voice.

I ask the woman if the baby she's holding is hers. She says yes, but then adds "She's my foster baby."

I asked the woman how long she had had the baby for. Around two months, she said. She had picked her up from the children's hospital. She chit-chatted a little about the formula the baby was on when she got her, about the trauma the baby had experienced, and about her visits with her real parents each week.

It took a minute for the reality of what she was saying to sink in. For me to get the pieces. Children's hospital. Trauma. Two months when she got her.

I was extremely confused. I didn't understand. I naively said, "Was it trauma from birth?"

The woman looks at me for a moment without speaking with an odd look on her face. She kindly says, "Oh no, honey."

This beautiful baby girl. Not four months old. Had been beaten. Almost to death. She had had numerous bones broken. She was bruised and battered when this lady came to the hospital to pick her up.

I stood there.

Overwhelmed by thoughts, feelings. A sense of shame for the world I live in, a feeling of horror at the violence, anger towards the evil, love for this poor baby girl, love for my sweet daughter, gratitude for the life I have been given, for the life my baby has been given, respect for this woman, for all brave foster parents like her. So many things I can't articulate.

I wanted to cry. I felt ashamed.

How could I have been just moments before embarrassed over my beautiful, vibrant baby girl's sounds of sheer joy and love of life when this other little girl had been through more pain and trauma than I have known my entire life?

It was a slap in the face. The girls continued to coo and squeal at each other for a few more minutes while I finished my conversation with the woman. We said our goodbyes and I sat back down.

I shoved my book back into my bag, put my bag on my shoulder, and strapped my baby back into her carrier, nestled against my chest.

Her beautiful, loud, happy sounds were the soundtrack to my thoughts as she serenaded our walk together.


This post shared at: EOA, Homemaking Link-Up, StrutYourStuff, Show&Tell, SharingTime, SundayShowcase, OnePerfectDay, MomMushingMondays, Anti-Procrastination, OneProjectataTime

Things to Love (October)

(Photo credit)

There is a beauty and magic to every changing season. I, myself, particularly love Autumn. There is nothing quite so cozy as a season of change. All of nature seems to take a deep breath, to rest from the warmth and work that summer has given.

As October ends I wanted to share with you a few things I love, a few things I don't love and a few things I have learned. 

I hope you will enjoy!

     I love learning. I love learning new things like about flax seed benefits (or NOT!) things like fluoride dangers,.

     I love not having a working oven. NOT! Because it means I can't make things like almond meal muffins or egg casserole.

     I love marshmallows!!!

     I love love love love love LOVE bacon and any way to eat it.

     I love sitting warm and snugly by a fire and sipping things like  Fall tea, spiced cranberry apple cider, raw milk eggnog, or a fun Halloween drink.

     I love my local farmer's market and love that I can get swiss chard almost all year round in the PNW. 

     I love that I can buy costco frozen fish without batting an eye.

     I love edible sweet Fall-ish things like a carrott dessert or pumpkin fudge.

     I love mushrooms and a good fungi foray.

     I love my friend dearly dearly and I think (yes, I am biased) that the way she does juicing is perfection.

     I love my husband. I love how hard he works so that I can be a stay-at-home mom. But, I love that I know that if I ever did have to become a working mom I could still eat healthy.

(Photo credit)

     I love having good poops. So knowing how to cure constipation is a good thing. 

     I love me some probiotics! Like traditional kimchi and other cultured fruits and veggies.

     I love not having to use toxic chemicals to clean my house. I love using cloth diapers. I love knowing that I can whiten clothes naturally with harming my home or my baby.

     I love cholesterol! Yes, that's right. I said it. 

     I love being healthy. I love not being sick. I love having tricks up my sleeve for common cold remedies.

     I love being a wife.

     I love being a mom.

     I love blogging.

    And I love YOU!

Happy Fall everyone! <3

(Photo credit)

Nothing was working.

It's amazing how quickly a day can change from good to bad to back again.

Woke up this morning with feelings overflowing with love and gratitude. She finally slept again for a six hour stretch. I slept in until around ten. Woke up with a super cuddly, warm, silky soft baby next to me. By the time dinner came around everything was falling apart. She was fussy and tired. So was I. She wouldn't nurse,  wouldn't fall asleep, wouldn't stop fussing. Brian was tired. I was tired. Nothing was working. Nothing.

So I stormed out of the house. Carrying her in my arms.

I didn't know where I wanted to go. Just away. From Brian. From the house. To clear my head, get some space.

We went to the river.

I hadn't planned on taking her out. People were giving me strange looks. We were quite the pair--her in only her diaper and me walking in my socks.. I think one lady might have been concerned about us because she stopped and watched us for quite awhile. (Probably wanted to make sure I wasn't going to throw my baby into the river out of desperation!)

Miss Mae always calms down when we are outside. She just watches everything, her beautiful blueberry blue eyes scanning the world in wonder. We sat on a bench and watched the water, the ducks swimming, herons skimming the water. It was so beautiful.

Breathe.

I have to remind myself of that a lot these days. Motherhood is hard. Really hard. People tell you that but you have to experience it. Even if you eat well, have a healthy baby, have a good home. It's. Still. Hard. It's such an adjustment. You can't just leave everything and go on a long drive blasting music until you forget why you were upset. You can't just pretend like nothing is wrong when your tired and hungry and your child is screaming at you and your husband is tired and hungry, too.

I sat there with her.

I know this will pass. I really do like being a mom. Having a baby. She is sweet and wonderful. Most of the time. Maybe that's why these times stand out so strongly. And I have such a hard time. Every stage will bring it's challenges but none will ever seem as hard as the ones I am facing. Right. Now. In the moment.

The sun was setting.

It started to get chilly just sitting there. I took off my overshirt and wrapped it around her like a little dress. If we didn't make a pair before I'm sure we did then. She was still calm. Just cooing at her toes and watching a dog swim after a thrown stick in the water.

I didn't want to go back. I wanted to stay upset. I wanted the world to know how hard this was. I'm the baby. I wonder often how much her having a hard time is really just me. Can she sense my anxiety? My fears? My disappointments? Can she sense that deeply when something isn't right with me? I'm sure she can.

I picked her up and started to walk.

She fell asleep in my arms. She curled her head into my shoulder. I walked home.

Brian was asleep when I got in. I sat down. She was still sleeping peacefully in my arms. Gently, I placed her on the bed between us.

We fell asleep.

This is so hard sometimes. But I know it's worth it. Sometimes I don't get anything done during a day. But nothing has a whole new meaning now--it includes changing diapers, holding a baby, playing with her, trying to make sure I eat something, maybe getting dinner on the table. Maybe. On a good day.

I need to remember to slow down. This is temporary and I will miss it when it's gone.





(This blog featured on Sunday Parenting, Better Mom, EOA, Farmgirl Fest, Sharing Saturday, Blog Walk

The Day She Was Born

At first I wasn't sure if I wanted to write about my daughter's birth. I didn't take many pictures while I was pregnant. I didn't want video of the birth. I wasn't even sure if I wanted pictures of the delivery.

Pregnancy is such a vulnerable experience. I loved being pregnant but I felt like seeing pictures of what I looked like at that time could never come close to capturing how peaceful, excited, and anticipatory I felt inside.

In hindsight, I have some regrets. I wish I had taken more pictures of that darling, growing bump. I wish I had video of my birth so I could, if not see what I acted like, at least hear my labor song. I am so glad that I at least decided to have pictures taken. (Thank you so much, Diana!)

Ah well.

Before I regret anything more, or forget any more details, I am going to record my experience of Little Owl's birth.

May 29th

Woke up with contractions around seven that morning. They were stronger than I had felt before but my due date was still a week out and it was my first birth so most likely I was (according to the average) at least two weeks out from labor.

I was excited. I had a relaxed morning planned--shopping, my favorite farmer's market, reading Harry Potter, just taking it easy until I had to go in that afternoon for what was supposed to be my bittersweet last day of work.

Got up, got dressed, went about my day. Went to the farmers market, had trouble parking. I thought something might be different because this really made me angry. I found myself being very irritable in my head with anyone who was around me. Went grocery shopping and without even thinking about it when a kind gentleman asked me something like "when's the baby coming?" I answered "Today". Feeling very uncomfortable he mumbled something like "Oh, that's nice" and proceeded to walk quickly away.

I decided maybe I needed to take a chill pill so I didn't snap at any more well meaning people (particularly before I had to serve people at work). I stopped at a coffee shop where I could sit in the sun and read--hanging out, just me and Harry Potter. Or at least that's what I wanted.

I must have had a look of desperation or the like on my face because everyone wanted to be my best friend that day. That's one of the wonderful, yet sometimes annoying, things about being pregnant. Everyone becomes excited for you and wants to talk to you. Having had so much fun with the last response I got from the guy at the grocery store, when anyone asked me when the baby was coming I answered "today". (Interestingy enough people didn't ask when I was due... all of them asked "when is the baby coming?").

But despite my interruptions I really enjoyed sitting in the sun, reading, and sipping herbal tea. It dawned on me that this might be the last time for a very long time when I would get to do something like this. Maybe, after all, the baby really was coming today.

Went home to get ready for work. The contractions became stronger. They were about every ten-fifteen minutes apart. I decided maybe it would't be a good idea to go into work afterall. Just in case. Texted my boss, saying "not sure if this is it or not but I don't think I should come in today". Her response? "!!!"

Continued to read Harry Potter with much enjoyment.

My midwife, Colleen, happened to call me (don't remember about what now) and after our brief conversation I told her "Just to give you a heads up, I've been having contractions since around seven this morning." It was now around twelve. She said "Great, ok, well give me a call anytime you want to come check on you. Otherwise we will check in around five". We didn't make it that far.

The contractions began to get stronger and closer together. I called my husband who was at school to see if he could pick up the birthing tub. (Just in case, you know-- I still didn't believe it would happen that day). He came home and I was planning on having him go back to school. By the time he arrived I said "I think maybe you should stay".

At this point I had to put dear Harry down. Everything from this point on is a bit of blur. I remember walking outside and being (for the first time) overwhelmed by a contraction. I told Brian, "Can you call Colleen to come check on me?"

When Colleen arrived I remember I was at the edge of my bed, moaning. I remember her saying "I'm going to call my assistant". The tone in her voice.  I knew it was time. The intensity of the contractions. This was it. The moment that I had been waiting for. Nine months of anticipation, wondering, worrying, reading, researching, exercising, eating well. This was it. The end. The beginning.

They filled up the tub. I got in.

The water felt comforting. Warm. I liked the pressure around my body. The contractions felt like work. Hard work. I guess that;s why they call it labor. I was making sounds I hadn't learned or even heard before but they were working. I needed to make them. I could't not make them. (Weeks after the labor Brian told me I was "SO loud" he felt his ears were going to break.)

I remember I didn't want anyone touching me during the contractions. I needed Brian there beside me. But that was it. No touching. Touching made me think about things outside my body. I couldn't. I needed to believe that the only things that existed in the universe at that moment were me, my body and this hard, hard work. 

I don't have any idea how long I was in the water for. I remember feeling an intense change inside and hearing my voice respond. I think I whispered something like "I feel like pushing, is that ok?" to my midwife. I couldn't believe it. It didn't seem right. It hadn't even been that long. She said that if my body was telling me to push I should push. A little later I remember hearing her say "It's ok, Jackie. Breathe." She knew me so well. She didn't say much but she knew exactly what to say and when and how to say it. She knew that I needed permission to go slower than my body was cue-ing. And my body was cue-ing fast. 

She asked if I wanted to move from the tub. She helped me into the bathroom and I sat on the toilet. I remember this overwhelming need to be alone. I asked for everyone to leave besides the midwives and Brian (my mom and best friend had been in the room as well).

It burned. (This couldn't be crowning?? Already?). Colleen asked if I thought my water had broken. I didn't know. She thought it had. I told her it burned. Colleen knew if she didn't move me that my baby was going to be born into the toilet. I don't know how I moved onto the birthing stool but I did. I do know I couldn't have done it without her.

I heard Colleen say she could see the babies head. I could not believe it. I had thought before the labor about wanting to catch my own baby or at least having Brian catch it but at that moment all I could do was tell my self to calm down. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. 

My baby was born at 6:17. 

May 29th, 2012 

A beautiful baby girl- Athena Mae

Strong, beautiful, vibrant, aware. 

8 lbs. 6 oz. 

And I will never be the same. 

My labor was fast. Around 2.5 hours active labor with 20 minutes of pushing. Very fast for a primigravida with no tearing. If it weren't for the presence of my midwife it would have been too fast. My mind would not have been able to catch up with my body. 

I loved giving birth. I loved giving birth with a midwife. I loved giving birth at home. It was the most wonderful thing in the world to snuggle into bed moments after with my fresh baby girl and my wonderful husband. Life will never be the same.

-

LittleOwlCrunchyMomma

Welcome.

LittleOwlCruncyMomma is a blog about me, my life, my thoughts and my experiences. It will contain information about nothing in particular and everything in general. I will talk about whatever I am thinking about at the time. I am, among other things, a wife, a mother, a thinker, an explorer, a dancer, an actress, a lover of books, a teacher, a student, a cook, a Weston A. Price fanatic, a creator and a thinker.

I will record bits of my life so that some day I can look back and laugh at my mistakes and be proud of my accomplishments. I invite you to laugh and learn with me.

I became a mother four months ago to a beautiful, healthy, vibrant baby girl. My husband and I chose the name Athena. Named after the goddess of Athens, her name represents strength, wisdom, power, knowledge, courage and any other virtue that Athens one time or another stood for or admired.

As the harbinger of wisdom, truth and light, the goddess Athena was closely associated with the owl; a creature of the night who can see through the darkness. In ancient tradition the goddess carried, perched on her shoulder or on her hand, a companion--a Little Owl (Athene noctua). Little Owls would gather in swarms at the Acropolis to receive protection and to pay homage to their beloved. The Little Owl symbolizes the wisdom and veracity of the goddess.

As a Crunchy Mama my journey will be far from the ordinary experience of the modern suburban housewife. I am a home-birthing, non-vaccinating, baby-wearing, elimination communication-practicing, co-sleeping, Weston Price-following mom. I look forward to sharing with you the reasons for the choices I have made so far, the choices I will make in the future, and my process of realizing my mistakes.

It is my hope and prayer that my journey as a mother--beginning with my Little Owl--will bring me wisdom, strength and courage.