Savagemama
Column: Savagemama
More Than the Mom Agenda: Real Friendships, Inevitable ShiftsWhen Eliza was born, I had few friends with babies. I found myself seeking the counsel of other mamas out there, which meant I had to step out of my friend group, and comfort zone, to find women to talk to. When we new mamas would gather we had on our mom hats. We talked about slings, diapers, to use or not use a pacifier, sleep patterns and left with helpful tips we’d found on the Internet. I often left these gatherings with an empty feeling, like I’d made no connection at all with these women.
I want more than sticking to the mom agenda.
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Column: Savagemama
Thriller: When a Princess of Pop (culture) Meets Oregon Farm BoyWhen it comes to pop culture, Seth and I grew up very differently. He barely had a television in his house, I had one in my room and was an every Thursday night Cosby-Show girl. Then I was an every Thursday night Friends girl, then ER. You get the point. I owned Thriller and Purple Rain, he owned a dubbed Bob Marley and the Wailers tape. I wore zippered pants, he wore cutoffs. I cruised at the beach listening to “Baby Got Back” over and over, he was, at the same age, off climbing some rocks somewhere. I grew up in the suburbs in South Carolina, he grew up on a desert highway in Central Oregon with the Three Sisters at his doorstep. He reads Noam Chomsky to unwind, I read “smut” magazines (People, In Touch, Us Weekly) that my mom throws into the box when she mails Eliza something. Somehow we’ve bridged this gap. [more]
Column: Savagemama
Shave Gel, and Pink Razors: How a Family Fits TogetherLately I’ve been doing lots of math problems. When my stepmother was my age she had my brother, her first child. When my dad’s mom was my brother’s age, she had my dad, her last child. When I was my sister’s age, my stepmother had my brother. When I was my brother’s age, my stepmother had my sister. My sister couldn’t have cared less about all of my jabbering but I couldn’t stop thinking about how these pieces fit together once then didn’t and now do again. [more]
Column: Savagemama
It’s Raining…BabiesThese days, at 31 as the responsible mother of an almost one-year old, there’s a different kind of rain coming down in my life. The humidity is rising, the barometer’s getting low and everyone I know seems to be going into labor. My good friend Big Sis is right, all around us brand new babies are coming down like rain. [more]
Column: Savagemama
A Good BirthLast week when I looked at pictures of my friend's just-born baby, I remembered details about Eliza’s birth 11 months ago on a rainy night. I saw again tiny images I’d tucked away into the crevices of memory. I’d put them there to protect them, to preserve them because they were too fragile, too precious to leave lying around on the edges of everyday conversation. But last week I saw these details again. They were almost tangible.
I remembered Seth holding my hand and breathing with me through every contraction from five centimeters to ten. I remembered the red sheets on the bed where Eliza was born. I remembered being covered with them just a few minutes after our midwife put our daughter on my chest. I remembered the creamy white vernix that covered Eliza from her wrinkled toes to her curly dark hair. It was like glue and she stuck to me in the pre-dawn hours.
We had a good birth.
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Column: Savagemama
Canning with (and for) BabyCanning serves for me this need to make sure we have enough. When I look at the jars of sauce sitting in a perfect row on our kitchen shelf I know that in February when the hills here turn white, then brown, then white again, we’ll have something warm to eat. I know when the nights come early and stay late, we’ll eat cherry preserves and taste briefly the lake in summer. We’ll remember that the cold darkness will pass and another growing season will come again. When Eliza drift off to sleep she’ll taste in our sauce warm wind and I’ll know as she drifts off to sleep that our work has served her well. [more]
Column: Savagemama
Baby is Growing Up, Mama is Having Growing PainsEliza's growing is starting to hurt, not her but me. Wasn’t it just yesterday that I pushed her out of me on a warm summer night? Wasn’t it yesterday that we brought her home and lay, the three of us, for days on end in our bed, time stopping for us? Wasn’t it yesterday that she screamed her way through the night with colic?
No. It wasn’t yesterday. It was nearly a year ago. I have to remind myself.
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Column: Savagemama
Swimming Toward Confidence: Mama’s First Baby Swim LessonsEliza started swimming lessons this week and I was a total wreck. As I treaded into the water to join our class I looked around and not one other mother in the place was wearing a two-piece bathing suit. Just me. All the other mothers seemed to be taking cues from the same fashion trend. Ill-fitting plastic-type shorts layered over a dated one-piece bathing suit. They all seemed to know that this was the swimming lesson uniform for moms. I somehow missed the memo. So I got under the water as quickly as I could. [more]
Column: Savagemama
Gimme an E!: Channeling my Inner CheerleaderWhen Eliza is fussy, I do cheers for her. Like short-skirt-and-ponytails kind of cheers. Gimme an E – L –I –Z –A kind of cheers. And, yes, it is more than a little alarming to me that this is my instinct, the first thing I pull from my bag of tricks in the face of a squirming, teething baby. We mamas all have our bag of tricks, mine just happens to include pom poms. [more]
Column: Savagemama
Oh, the Places You’ll Go For Baby … Including Wal-MartA few weeks ago I felt a little dirty going to Wal-Mart. All the years of avoiding it made it even worse to go that day. I felt sad for the people that work there, nostalgic for all those sweltering summer days in the South when my mother and I found refuge in our local Wal-Mart, and I felt more than a little hypocritical. [more]
