New West Network

My Page: Jennifer Savage

Column: Savagemama

So, I suppose I’m a little more boot cut than skinny leg these days. Maybe this is why j.crew seems to have dropped me from their mailing list. In their place these women with graying hair and laugh lines have found me. And if I take a close look in the mirror I can see why.
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Column: Savagemama

Our first few weeks as a family of four have been filled with sweet, breezy days under the cottonwoods in our yard and a few rough and tumble nights that have made me and Seth question whether we can do this. I’ve found myself struggling with my new sense of self. Mama. Mama of two. Mama of two daughters. It all feels like a generous gift and an amazing responsibility. [more]

Column: Savagemama

A few months ago, before a new baby was in the picture, Seth and I took Eliza for a walk down the dirt road we live on and I nearly had what my mother would call a conniption.

“I work from home,” I told Seth, “and I’m not going to be able to keep my job for long if I don’t get organized. I live in my car and I have stacks of papers everywhere. I can’t find anything. Eliza plays in my file box, she taps my keyboard with her drum mallet. I am at capacity for what I can do without having a place to write, to work. I can’t take on anymore assignments like this.”

I was at a fever pitch. I told him that some days, while Eliza is sleeping in the car seat, I cruise around town looking for a Wi-Fi hotspot where I can get a signal from the driver’s seat. I find a parking place, put the car in park, push my seat back and work or write until she wakes up and we have to keep moving. I am flexible but I’m not superhuman. If we are going to make this live-in-the-rural-West-work-for-ourselves thing work I needed a change. [more]

Column: Savagemama

These past two weeks Seth and his dad have been giving our little farmhouse a serious upgrade. Two rooms to which we’ve always kept the doors closed are becoming a part of our house with pocket doors, paint and electrical outlets that work. Our spare bedroom is turning into a kids’ room with cornflower blue walls, an insulated floor and heater. Our laundry room has a shiny tile floor to replace the painted concrete that’s been there for God only knows how long and a cold water line that does more than drip.

And tomorrow, America’s favorite home improvement box store will deliver our new washer and dryer. Our lives have officially shifted but no one could be happier about the Maytag than me. [more]

Column: Savagemama

So it’s been a while since I’ve posted a column. I’ve not disappeared, I’ve just been watching a remodel unfold in our house. EJ is getting a new room (or getting a room I should say) and Seth’s dad is here for two weeks to help with putting up walls, installing heaters and basically turning our guest room into a kid friendly place.

So since Seth is working all day only to come home and work all night, I thought it time to list off the top ten reasons I love my man today. Here goes: [more]

Column: Savagemama

Two mornings ago I woke up to Eliza saying, “Hey!” She was sitting beside me, staring down at me. I’m not sure how many times she said this before I woke up but after seeing me awake, she smiled.

“Hey!” I said as I sat up. I ran my hand through her curls, then because I’ve been waking up really congested these days, scratched my nose with the back of my other hand. I felt something hard and pointed and when I pulled my hand away I saw my nose ring had fallen out. A tiny L-shaped piece of metal, the thing was prone to stick out but it rarely came out by accident or otherwise because it was such a pain to get back in. I sat looking at it in my hand and instead of putting back in the hole in my nose I put on the shelf next to my bed. I scooped Eliza up and headed down to make breakfast.

But leaving the nose ring out doesn't mean I've lost my edge. [more]

Column: Savagemama

David Sedaris once wrote about visiting his sister and that the upheaval of her apartment made the homosexual in him want to scrub and clean until his hands bled. I often think I have a little gay man inside of me pointing out the spots on the tub that won’t come clean, bleaching the sink, mopping sap off the kitchen floor. I like to think David and I could live together in a spotless place somewhere with neatly folded towels and perfectly organized cupboards. Then I remember that he’s a smoker and we’re both neurotic writers and my little neat-freak fantasy evaporates. [more]

Column: Savagemama

I have never wanted to be a war correspondent, specifically. An intrepid reporter waving the flag of high journalistic standards, maybe. Lately, I’d settle for relatively stable mama-writer but, these days, that seems about as illusive as carrying a DAT recorder through Baghdad.

This pregnancy has left me feeling as though I have the patience, filters and hormonal swings of a 16-year-old. And just like then I feel as though I have no control over my emotions, no frame of reference to draw from. [more]

Column: Savagemama

It’s that time of year again, I suppose, that time of year for falling in love. Except this year my valentine walks on four legs and licks her butt. It’s true, I’m re-falling in love with Imogene, my yellow lab. [more]

Savagemama: Notes From a Pregnant Mama

We met with our midwife a few weeks ago at her home. Eliza completely ignored me as she had discovered a red toy car that she could climb in and out of and open and close the doors. When the midwife checked my blood pressure Eliza was in her own little world, and when she drew my blood, Eliza was happily playing with our other midwife’s daughter.

But when our midwife checked the baby’s heartbeat, Eliza snapped out of her play-filled trance and walked over to me. She looked at me with one-part curiosity, one-part confusion. Then she climbed on my lap and reached for the instrument on my belly as though she was investigating the cause of this strange but primal and familiar sound. She rubbed her hands in the gel on my stomach and curled up beside me. It occurred to me that she will rely on me and my cues to guide her through these next few months. It seems like a big, important and, somehow tender, responsibility.