Ever-greening

It sometimes amuses my husband that the things I do in my quest to be more "green" and economical are things that people did in the Soviet Union because they had no other choice. Like cloth diapers* and using vinegar to clean.

Anyway, I recently realized that a major not-so-green habit of mine was paper towels. I'm somewhat of a paper towel addict. They're just so absorbent! And convenient! And I'm pretty OCD about having clean hands, so I wipe my hands constantly when I eat. I use paper towels for napkins, and sometimes go through several in one meal if I'm eating something messy.

So, I decided I should do something about that.


I got some cloth napkins at thrift stores yesterday. I think I went a bit overboard, when I got home and counted them, there were 31. Also, as you can see, my basket runneth over. But that means I don't have to wash them too often, I guess! I like the variety of colors and patterns.

The cost was around $12. I know I spent $14 total, and most of it was for the napkins, but someone also needed a few pairs of socks.


*They actually had to make their own, apparently. I'm not nearly that crunchy...yet. I'll stick to Fuzzibunz and prefolds ;)

DIY and chipping in

I've noticed something lately among some artists I know, which I find a bit disappointing. It's a focus on money and compensation that I don't remember seeing so much of in the past. I hear statements like, "I'm not doing anything for free" and see some Kickstarter pages that make me raise an eyebrow.

Now. Put down the pitchfork and hear me out. I do think art is valuable. I don't think being an artist should mean living a life of poverty. But I also think that 1) financial challenges can actually lead to innovation in art, and 2) community and volunteering are central to the arts and I don't want to see them disappear.

I will restrain myself from gushing about my days at NTI (almost a decade ago...yikes!) because that could go on forever and would only end in me saying ridiculous things like "free your pelvis!" while sobbing with nostalgia, and who wants to see that? But one thing I really liked about the program was that we were given very little (basically nothing, really) for the scenes we directed and for our final project. If you needed something, you made it, or you found it by asking "Who's got a newspaper?" "Do any of you guys have a striped tie?" And if someone had it, they let you borrow it for your scene. You did not go around asking your friends for money so you could go prop shopping.

I adore low-budget, passion-driven theater. I'm more intrigued by a site-specific piece using found objects than some high-budget musical any day. Personal preference, yes. But I value experimentation, and lack of funds and experimentation are a match made in heaven.

I think Kickstarter is a great website, and I have donated to several projects that sounded really cool and truly could not have happened without funding. I'm not trying to say no one should ever ask for money. But I see some projects that seem to me to be more about laziness and lack of imagination than a true need. If you can't get off your butt and make art without someone giving you money first, then I think there might be an issue there.

Which brings me to the second point I mentioned above. Maybe it's because I'm getting older, but I seem to be seeing less of the "let's get together and do this thing for the fun of it/because we feel it should be done" attitude that I love about the artistic community. Listen, if some big corporation, or your millionaire friend, asks you to make some art for them, by all means ask them for some money. If your fellow struggling artist friend asks if you want in on her non-paying project but you simply don't have the time because you have to work so hard at your day job, by all means tell her so. [Actually, I'm of the opinion that having a day job can be very beneficial to one's art, but that's a topic for another day] But if your across-the-board attitude is, "I'm not doing anything for free," then I have to wonder why you're an artist. I don't think your fellow struggling artist friends are trying to screw you over by asking if you want in on a project they can't pay you for. If you think they are...find some new friends.

Skill-sharing doesn't always have to be "consulting" for a fee. Your time is well spent when you're being inspired with your friends. Who helped you grow as an artist...only people you paid? I doubt it!

Do what you can do, help when you can help, and see it as an opportunity to learn and grow. If you can't afford to do something, that's cool. Make money when you can and enjoy it - you worked for it! But why look at everything with dollar signs in your eyes? Our scrappiness and generosity have served us well as artists, and we shouldn't be so quick to part with them.

The dust has settled.

I gave a massage yesterday for the first time in months. I'm going back to work soon (on a very part-time basis) and I was worried that I'd forgotten my basic routine and/or lost my touch. It's incredible what the body remembers - I couldn't think my way through my massage, but most of the time my hands and arms seemed to remember what to do. I set up the front room of our house as a guest room/massage room, and found it to be a great space to work in. Lit a candle, put on some music, and did my thing.

It helped that the client was my mom :)

Anton is a relatively happy baby, and is quite content to be my companion when I go to the grocery store or the Farmer's Market, or out for walks. And when we're home, he loves to play in his baby gym. Observe:



I've started on a new project, a theater thing. It will be a collaboration with one of my closest friends, and we're excited about it. I'm in the script writing phase now. I find that I don't have many hours to devote to it, but when I do find a bit of time, I make the best of it. Last week I sneaked off to Starbucks for a couple of hours by myself, and hand-wrote several pages at a frenzied pace.

I've been thinking about the future, and how to balance work and creativity and mothering. That silly struggle women's magazines have been writing about for decades now. I want to find a way to feel challenged, make some money, and spend plenty of time with Anton throughout his childhood. This new theater project, if it works out, would hopefully be a long-time gig, and help me achieve that goal.

Anton's napping, I'd better get back to that goal-achieving work.

The state of me.

For the first time in nearly a year, I am starting to feel "myself" physically. My energy level is up, I have a spring in my step when I walk, all that good stuff.

I have friends who are pregnant now who seem to be feeling fine, and maybe I'm just a whiny baby, but really from the beginning of my pregnancy I started feeling like crap, and pretty much felt that way to varying degrees until, oh, now (over 2 months since I gave birth).

I felt big and sluggish and tired throughout my pregnancy. Then I had to heal from a c-section while caring for a newborn. It's good to put all that behind me. I've been taking daily walks with Anton in the baby carrier. I'd enjoy some different scenery than this subdivision, but at least the weather is nice.

It's odd to me that I can both adore my baby to bits and miss him when I'm away from him for, like, an hour (which is pretty much the longest I've been away from him), AND at the same time miss my "old life." But, that's where I'm at.

Last night, I had quite the ordeal, trying out a new recipe for dinner that turned out to be more complicated than I'd anticipated. Anton was tired but only sleeping in 10 minute increments, then screaming for me, then I'd nurse him, then back to sleep (for 10 minutes). It was really frustrating and cooking dinner took forever. After we'd finally eaten, I felt so exhausted by the whole thing...then I felt depressed that the central challenge of my life these days is cooking dinner with an infant. This time last year, I was working on my Fringe Festival show.

I'm going to try venturing out for longer periods of time, so I can do more creative stuff. I plan to start attending writer's group again, while David watches Anton. I have a lot of pumped milk stashed in my freezer and Anton has been okay with a bottle the few times we've tested it out. I'm hoping to start doing some massage soon, as well.

I've been trying to write, but I can basically only do it when Anton naps, which is also when I need to do laundry (cloth diapers = lots of laundry), eat, cook, etc. I got a dictation app for my iPhone, I'm going to try writing via dictation while nursing. We'll see.

I go crazy without creative outlets. I'd love some tips from experienced artist moms on how to make this work!

Latest reads: Room by Emma Donaghue and Ten Thousand Saints by Eleanor Henderson

So. I've finally mastered reading-while-nursing (much easier on the Kindle than with a "real" book). It has improved my life greatly. I have yet to master typing-while-nursing, though, so I haven't been posting here much. The baby's asleep right now, let's hope he allows me to write about my recent reads before he wakes up.My friend Caitlin recommended Room to me, she thought that, as a new mom, I would enjoy reading this book that centers on a mother-son relationship. I adored this book. The most impressive part of it was the voice of the narrating character - a five year old boy, who has lived in a small room with his mother for his entire life. His mother is the prisoner of a man who rapes her repeatedly, fathering (only in the biological sense) her son, Jack. It was no small achievement for Donaghue to tell this story entirely in the very believable voice of such a young character. The story is told in present tense, as well. I felt like I was there, and my heart was racing at several points in the book, hoping Jack and his mother would be okay. I read this in two days. I kept looking at my baby Anton while he slept, so thankful for him. The book is a wonderful account of a mother's love, while at the same time a bit of a thriller.

Next I read Ten Thousand Saints on my Kindle, which I'd read about in Poets & Writers magazine. The characters are part of the straight-edge hardcore punk scene in the late '80s, and I've never come across a novel about this particular subculture before. I was marginally aware of this scene in high school (although that was in the 90s, I must point out), and went to a couple of shows because I had crushes on boys who were into it. So I was intrigued by the subject matter. I liked this book a lot, and thought the characters were genuine and interesting, and I found myself caring deeply for them. However, I found Henderson's writing style a bit confusing, at times. She loves similies like my cat loves smoked salmon. This book is full of them, like seeds of a pomegranate.

Okay, okay, her similies are mostly far better than mine. But there were just.so.many.of.them. And some of them didn't quite work for me. So then I'd find myself pondering the weird similie, and it would take me out of the story. And overall, the style was very intellectual-poetic, which didn't seem like it fit any of the characters' view of the world. Also, the perspective shifted quite often. Sometimes it seemed to shift mid-paragraph. Sometimes I wasn't sure whose head we were currently in. It was not a huge distraction, but I think it might have been better if she'd just picked one or two, or heck, even three characters through which we could view the story.

The wonderful characters and the unpredictable and intriguing story made me keep reading, though, like a straight-edge teenage boy at a free vegan buffet. Sorry, I couldn't help that one.

Thoughts on nursing

I called my mom one day a couple of weeks ago, to make a confession: I was not enjoying breastfeeding. It was very important to me to nurse my baby, and I never was tempted to give him formula, but I felt like nursing was a drag, and I felt guilty about that.

My mom expressed surprise at first, but then said she did remember having some issues in the first couple of weeks, if she really thought about it. But she told me that that time period was so short, it only made up a tiny percentage of the time she spent nursing (1 year for each of her 3 kids), so she tended to forget the hard times.

My doula had similar advice. "Breastfeeding is so worth it," she said, "once you make it past the first couple of weeks." And that is what I wish more people would tell new moms. Breastfeeding advocates tend to minimize the challenges of breastfeeding, in my experience. I have a book on breastfeeding which has been helpful, but it says things like "soreness rarely lasts longer than 48 hours," which was not my experience, nor the experience of several people I've talked to. Even my husband, when doing internet research, commented that "all of these websites say that if you're sore you're doing it wrong...but then it also seems like everyone says they got sore." Yep.

Then, of course, there's the "formula is just as good" camp, which I totally disagree with. Formula doesn't even make that claim...look at the package. It says breastfeeding is best. I know that because I've been sent formula in the mail that I never requested or wanted. I think it's great that formula exists for those RARE instances where it is necessary, but I think it's crappy to try to get it into the hands of every new mom. Clearly the formula companies are trying to take advantage of frustrated new moms and get them to try their product. And that sucks (no pun intended).

Because, yes, for many women it is NOT easy or convenient in those first couple of weeks. Anton was in NICU for a day, where he was given a bottle and a pacifier. When confronted with my anatomy, which does not resemble those things, he had no clue what to do. I was given a nipple shield by the lactation consultants in the hospital (who were great - I wish all hospitals had LC's as knowledgeable and helpful as these ladies), and that worked, but it was kind of a pain to deal with, so I spent a few days weaning him off of the shield, with tears shed by both of us! And after that, I got really sore. I began to dread feeding him because it hurt so much. Then after that subsided, I started to get...bored. I don't like sitting still, and I was spending so many hours of the day nursing that I was getting a bit stir-crazy.

I stuck with it, because I knew it was the best thing for my baby, and thankfully I had a lot of people supporting me - Mom, Rene (my doula), my husband, etc. And guess what? I got past all of those hurdles. Now I love it! As Anton grows, both of us seem more aware of when he is hungry, how long he needs to nurse, etc.

As I mentioned in my birth story posts, I had really wanted to give birth naturally. I felt, based on the testimonials of women I know who have given birth naturally, that it would feel empowering for me. And I didn't get that experience. But now that I'm nursing, I get a similar feeling of empowerment - that my body can do this awesome thing for my baby.

Some people argue that it's not feminist to push breastfeeding, because women should be encouraged to make their own choices. And yeah, choice is great. And of course, there are some women who cannot breastfeed. But for those who can, it's important to recognize that these are not two "equally good" options. It has been well established that breast milk is superior to formula. You can find that info in about 30 seconds of research. Do more research, and you'll find more and more reasons why.

And here's my feminist take: this is something completely amazing that women's bodies can do. When you breastfeed, your body creates milk especially for your baby. If you have another baby, the milk will be different! How cool is that? But like many things associated with women, the awesomeness of breastfeeding is downplayed by our patriarchal society. Okay, okay, I know some people are probably rolling their eyes at that statement. Yes, I used the dreaded "P" word. But I stand by it. I have had doctors lecture me about setting time limits on nursing, to make sure my baby doesn't "use" me "as a pacifier." So let me get this straight: it's superior for me to put a piece of plastic (which is designed to mimic one of my body parts) in my baby's mouth? Now, I don't let him nurse forever, because, as I mentioned before, I get stir-crazy. But I don't think there's anything inherently wrong with it. It just strikes me as odd that this was such a big fear of the pediatricians. Pretty much anything seen as "a woman thing" is portrayed as petty and trivial in our culture. I really do think attitudes towards breastfeeding are another example of that (especially when you consider our culture's obsession with breasts as sex objects, and only sex objects).

In short, breast milk is best, women's bodies are awesome for their ability to make it (and for many other reasons), and though it is not easy at first, as my doula said, it is so worth it!

My birth story - Part 2: Postpartum

It turned out that Anton had taken such a big breath when he came out that he had a tiny tear in his lung, and a pocket of air had formed. This is apparently not terribly uncommon, and they may not have even known it happened except that they took a chest x-ray because he was breathing rapidly after he was born.

He was kept in the NICU to be monitored, to make sure his lung didn’t collapse. They put him under an oxygen hood. David and my mom and my sister were able to visit him. I’d have to wait until I was able to get out of bed.

Mom had brought some food for everyone, and we visited and ate. After a couple of hours, they moved me to the postpartum ward. David went home for a few hours to feed our cats and take a shower and get some rest.

I woke up at one point, and I heard another baby down the hall cry. The endorphin rush of knowing my baby was alive had worn off a bit, and I began to feel sad. It was unlike any feeling I’d had before – like someone had chipped off a chunk of my soul and put it somewhere far away from me. It just felt wrong. I wanted my baby. The next few hours dragged endlessly as I waited for my 12 hour strict bedrest to end.

Finally, the nurse came in to help me get up, clean up a bit, and then go see Anton. David came back, and went to the NICU to wait while I got ready. I didn’t need the wheelchair they offered. I walked to the NICU – although I felt about 80 years old, slightly hunched over and shuffling along. But I was so, so excited!

When I got there, the nurse told me Anton was doing well, and could be removed from the oxygen for a while if I wanted to hold him. Of course I did!

At this point I would like to say that many of the natural birth – centered material that I’d watched and read while pregnant said that c-sections interfere with the natural bonding between mother and baby. I’ve decided this is complete bullshit. I didn’t see my baby for twelve hours, yet when they handed him to me to hold, it was the happiest moment of my life, and I don’t believe I could have possibly loved that kid more even if I’d had my dream natural birth. If anything, my love for him was increased due to the gratitude that he had made it, after I’d spent so many hours in fear.

He was awake and alert, and looked at me with beautiful, intelligent blue eyes. The feeling was indescribable.

The next day, David and I visited him again in the NICU, and I held him again. They were taking chest x-rays every few hours to determine when he could be released from NICU. This finally happened around 2pm, and then he was put in the room with me until we were discharged from the hospital on Friday.

I got a bad headache from the spinal and was on bedrest for the first 48 hours that we were home. Mom and Becca came and stayed with us and helped to cook and take care of the baby.

Now we are both doing great. I am so thankful for my baby every second of every day.