one of the very first photos taken on my new iPod touch

I went to an overnight retreat last weekend with a bunch of other moms from the weekly mom’s group that I attend. 24 hours away from the daily grind. Indulgent snacks, board games, laughter, and good ol’ chatting with no interruptions from the little people in our lives. It was lovely, as you can imagine. My hubby held down the fort with the kiddos, and when I got home Sunday evening, they weren’t there. (I later found out that they’d gone mother’s day shopping in the city).

I debated whether I should worry and fret (no note! and I had his cell with me! sheesh!), or just grab my laptop and a cup of tea and relax. I logged on to Facebook and checked out the latest in our local community’s swap and buy group.

My eyes nearly bugged out of my head.

Hubs had posted his iPhone for sale the night before, and was in the midst of negotiations with the interested parties. 

What the WHAT?!

You have to understand – this is the man that was taking computers apart and putting them back together again for fun at the age of twelve. The same man who had several years of a career as a professional sound guy, pushing buttons and playing with technology to his heart’s content. The very same man that now flies airplanes for a living and is totally geeked out by the cool technology in the cockpit.

Yeah.

***

Rewind to about a week ago when we were chatting about what I might like for the upcoming mother’s day celebration. I told him that I just wanted to sleep in, have a special breakfast, then a general day of relaxing family time, maybe not have to cook at all – that kind of thing. He told me that he really wanted to get me a special gift.

Me: “what is it?”

Him: “I can’t tell you!”

Me: “Is it expensive?”

Him: tries to lie but sucks badly “Noooo…”

Me: (rolling my eyes but feeling loved knowing that his love language is “gifts” in a major way…) ”Oh dear. What is it? You know we have no extra money at all right now”

Him: “I can’t tell you!”

Me: “Just tell me how much it costs and I’ll tell you if we can do it”

Him: “umm, like $200″

Me: (freaking out) “Honey! That’s sweet… but you know we can’t possibly afford that!”

Him: “Yeah. But I have a plan”.

Me: “Uh oh.”

(PS. I totally guessed correctly what it was and because he’s a really terrible liar he admitted the truth. It was cute.)

***

Back to present-day and the iPhone sale… I couldn’t believe he was actually doing it. He was selling his iPhone for two reasons: first – to save us money in our monthly budget, and second – to be able to buy me an iPod touch – something I’d mentioned that I wanted for my birthday in a couple of months so that I had a little pocket camera, etc. but without the monthly fees of an iPhone.

So, with 2.5 years left on the contract (that was taken over by the buyer) we will save ourselves $1,200, plus $100 for the sale of the phone. He will be getting himself a cheap cell phone, mainly for emergencies or when he’s not around a phone – maybe a pay-as-you go kind or whatever happens to be cheapest.

I am seriously touched by his thoughtfulness, and still a bit floored at how he chose to express it this time.

***

This is, of course, one of the other very first photos taken with my iPod. Note the dandelion flower bouquet in her cute little hands.

We are really starting to question the things we think we need. The ways we live our lives and the choices we make in our spending. Was the iPhone nice? Sure it was. I enjoyed web surfing on long car rides and never getting lost thanks to the built-in GPS and google map search. I loved being able to talk to him pretty much whenever. But was it really needed? Was it worth the monthly charges and strain on our budget? Not really.

Sometimes it is so easy to get caught up in the belief that we “need” certain things to be happy. This doesn’t just apply to the stereotypical “rich folks”. It also applies to me thinking that my life is somehow less complete when my house is not perfectly decorated, pinterest-style. Or when I doubt and question whether I could be happy in a 2-bedroom apartment as a family of five. Or when I pout a little over giving up the iPhone because then whatever will I do with the hour-long car ride to the city? Talk to my husband? Read a book? Crochet? Scandalous, I know.

I know, I know, lots of people in our society live without a smartphone and they survive just fine. This really is a sob story of a privileged first-worlder. But to me the iPhone has been symbolic. What else are holding on to in our lives that may not be the wisest thing for us? One day when hubby has moved beyond entry-level aviation and we can afford it again, maybe we’ll be an iPhone family again. Who knows?

One thing is for sure though – we want to live with our possessions held loosely and our loved ones held tight. We want to be a family that values relationships and wise living. A family that models counter-cultural choices to our kids.

For us, it was by saying farewell to the pretty little iPhone.

What might it be for you?

It’s a incredible group, but we have this one major flaw. It’s a woman thing, I think, and it is this: we apologize.

When we go around the circle sharing our prayer requests (otherwise known as our life updates), we often apologize for chattering on too much and taking up too much time, or for breaking down emotionally and crying over an issue that is particularly heavy on our hearts. They’ve done it. I’ve done it.

“I didn’t want to cry, I’m sorry” (sniff sob, pass the kleenex)…

“I will stop now, sorry for talking your ears off!” (after unloading a heart full of burden).

Apologies left, right, and centre… all for being open and vulnerable and transparent. For opening up the nitty-gritty and trusting each other with our hearts. To do so is rarely neat and tidy, passionless, or brief, and yet somehow we’ve come to believe that it should be. Why do women do this? Why do we apologize for letting our beautiful messes show?

Do we believe that a good woman is able to always keep it together?

Do we believe that a good woman is never burdened so heavily that she spews out her cares in a torrent of words and soul bits onto trusting friends while going over the unofficial (nonexistent) allotted five minutes per person?

Do we believe that a good woman is properly schooled in the art of manners and propriety and would never break down with vulnerability to unload the gritty realities of her life? Especially is she were to be “overly” emotional about it all?

I don’t.

I just don’t.

I believe that a good woman is one who shares her heart and admits her struggles to those who love her. I believe a good woman is one who can be vulnerable and brave enough to bare her heart’s cry and messiness. I believe that a good woman is one who will let the overwhelming emotions pour out in an honest and healing cry instead of bottling them inside. I believe that a good woman is often genuine, honest, vulnerable, and rarely prim and proper.

There is so much grace and loving in this way of living.

I think it’s time we stopped apologizing for being women who share our hearts.

Let’s stop being sorry and start being brave!

Let’s be unapologetic and let’s live open to joy and grace and love and all of the beauty that comes along.

(Let’s ignore the clock and pass the kleenex…) 

***

{Galatians 6:2 – “Carry each other’s burdens and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ”}

This is the fourth instalment of a series I am doing on breastfeeding in public. You can read the first three posts here:

Uninhibited Breastfeeding in Public {Reclaiming My Womanhood From Perversity}
Uninhibited Breastfeeding in Public {Is It Obscene and Inappropriate?}
Uninhibited Breastfeeding in Public {Not Worth the Controversy?}

***

People stared at me as I walked through the mall. My face was disfigured and swollen practically beyond recognition, with deep nasty bruises from my eyes down to my neck on both sides. I could see people shifting their gazes when I noticed them staring at me uncomfortably.

I was 18 years old and I had undergone major reconstructive jaw surgery two weeks prior.

Both of my jaws had been broken, repositioned, and fastened in place with screws and plates. The top jaw was impacted (shortened) and the bottom jaw was lengthened. I was in the hospital longer and had a longer recovery than my boyfriend’s (now husband’s) grandfather who had undergone quadruple bypass open heart surgery just two days prior. The swelling and bruising eventually faded, and after a pure liquid diet for 2 months (which dropped me down to around 90lbs) I was able to begin eating again.

***

This was my only taste of being physically different (unless you count having red hair – haha), and it was only temporary. Still – the feeling of being stared at by people who uncomfortably shifted their gazes away will stay with me forever. Some people endure this kind of social ostracizing their whole lives if they have a visible disability or disfigurement. I used to have a coworker who has an extremely large growth on half of her face about the size of a pineapple (or bigger). I don’t know the whole medical background, but I do know that she’s had it for most of her life. I found it difficult to not feel slightly awkward or uncomfortable when speaking with her face to face, even after working in the same office every day.

Now what does this all have to do with breastfeeding in public, you ask? Well, by large the most common reason that I was given as to why we should not breastfeed in public without a cover is that it makes people uncomfortable. Some claim that it is more loving to avoid making someone feel uncomfortable, and that it’s not worth causing a controversy.

“I guess I figure if breastfeeding makes people uncomfortable, and it doesn’t hurt to cover up, and it isn’t sin to cover up, why wouldn’t I cover up?”

This comment left on one of my previous posts is rather typical of the position that I’m discussing here, so I’ll use it as an example. Now, let’s replace the word “breastfeeding” in that sentence with “the disfigurement”. Should my coworker have come to work every day with a large covering over half of her head so that none of us had to look at it and be uncomfortable? Or perhaps she should have just stayed home? Or worked in a separate room where no one had to see her?

Is it the responsibility of the disabled person, burn victim, or person with the disfigurement to “cover it up” so that others don’t feel uncomfortable? Or, perhaps, is it the responsibility of those around her to “get over it” and treat her with respect and dignity despite their emotional reaction at the sight of her? Who bears responsibility for those uncomfortable feelings (which, I should remind you, are the result of the wrong and perverted message of our over-sexualized pornographic culture)?

Now I’m certainly not saying that breastfeeding and a physical disfigurement are identical situations. There are obvious differences, like the fact that breastfeeding is not a 24/7 deal (though new mamas probably feel that way!), whereas having a disfigurement or disability is not something that you can stop having.

Nonetheless, I do think there is a valid comparison here. The assertion being made is that we should avoid making people uncomfortable. I just want to know why. Since when is feeling uncomfortable such a terrible thing? Historically it has been a necessary side effect of many instances of social change as new ideas were brought into acceptance. I think of things like racial integration in the 1960’s, and women’s rights in the early twentieth century. Then I think of things like having a large family (I’ve heard mamas of many children tell over and over again about the nasty looks and ridiculously rude comments they get in public). If one day I have a large number of children (like 5 or more), should I avoid taking my family out in public all at once? It will most certainly cause people to feel uncomfortable! Perhaps I should take them out only in groups of two or three so as to not to ick people out with the evidence of my lively sex life and my rejecting of modern society’s negative bias against children?

If you affirm that the disabled and disfigured should cover up or hide away, and that my (theoretical) eight children should avoid going out in public together, well then I shall agree that I definitely should use a nursing cover as to not make you or anyone else feel the slightest bit awkward (actually, no I won’t. I will likely think you completely ridiculous and rude, to be honest). But I don’t think any reasonable person would actually affirm that.

From a spiritual point of view, I do not believe that breastfeeding in public could possibly “cause a man to stumble” any more than eating in public, walking in public, or just being in public! First of all, we should always interpret scripture in context, and in this case the passage is referring to food issues and the OT laws against unclean meat. It is saying that we should not eat something that someone else thinks is unclean if it causes them to stumble and eat it against their conscience. Does seeing me breastfeed in public cause someone who thinks that breast milk is forbidden by scripture to stumble and drink breast milk against their conscience? Somehow I don’t think so.

Even if you could apply that scripture to this situation, you would need to also be consistent. If seeing a non-sexual act of breastfeeding a child could “cause a man to stumble”, then I feel compelled to point out that seeing a woman’s hair, neck, legs, etc. could also do the same. This goes back perfectly to my discussion on modesty, and I ask then Why Don’t We All Just Wear Burqas? I contend, rather, that the man is responsible for his own thoughts, his own perverted thoughts, and his own sin. Most of us know that breasts have been over-sexualized by our culture to an unhealthy and harmful extent. Breastfeeding is not a sexual act – it is actually our culture’s distorted view of a woman’s body that is to blame for this theoretical discomfort and awkwardness.

The triple whammy of social taboo: 1) Breastfeeding in public 2) Breastfeeding without a cover 3) Breastfeeding a toddler. Gasp!

So, where does that leave us? If breastfeeding makes others feel uncomfortable, should I use a cover? If a man sees me breastfeeding my baby and it results in him lusting and sinning sexually in his mind, then should I use a cover? (never mind that most men still know what I’m doing and are perfectly capable of using their imaginations if they want to, which can still result in lust and sin). Or, should I breastfeed my baby without a cover (assuming I want to, of course) and contribute to the normalization of breastfeeding in our culture as a beautiful and natural act of love by a mother to her baby? I strongly believe the latter, and I wholeheartedly reject the notion that I am in any way responsible for the awkward feelings of others that come from such a situation.

What do you think?

Boy-meets-girl love story begins in high school, complete with shirts, ties, and knee socks.

She’s 17. He’s 18.

They fall deeply, ridiculously, intensely in love. The easy kind of love.

3 weeks in they talk marriage.

More certainty in her bones than for any other decision in her life.

Marriage at the tender 19 and 20 years of age.

It’s better than they had ever dared to hope.

Travel and nesting and learning and living and enjoying each other.

Reality rudely intruding at times with humanity’s selfishness, but love still greater.

Finally, the arrival of a new kind of love in the form of a babe.

With it comes a new kind of stress and challenge to the union. The need to work harder.

Still love. But the hard-work kind of love.

The easy love fades into oblivion.

8 years of marriage later and there are two kids, a minivan, and a whole lot of unresolved distance.

Heavy responsibilities, sleepless nights, long working hours, unmet expectations, unfair expectations, and still… love?

But love doesn’t come easy anymore.

Love is now on the back burner.

Snide remarks and grumpy attitudes rule the roost as selflessness takes a backseat.

And the love feels different.

Trapping.

Heavy.

Lukewarm.

And yet, hopeful.

There it is, in the fiber of their being, a smouldering and undeniable love for each other.

As their hands brush in the kitchen, and he kisses his bride.

She fearfully lets some of the walls come down enough to really kiss him back.

And she offers words of understanding and appreciation, and a foot rub.

And he gets up early with the kids so she can sleep in.

They love now with intent. With action. With selfless choices.

With a daily surrender to self.

They trudge along in the thickness of life continuing the climb until they are rewarded with the view from the top.

Stopping to take a breath when the sun breaks through the clouds and gives perspective again.

Denying the urge to live for self and instead living for another. For love. For life.

Until it’s second-nature. Until it’s easy again.

And at the end they rock in their chairs on the front porch with grey hair while holding hands and reminiscing.

Of how they loved and loved and loved.

And how that love looked different depending on the season.

Sometimes difficult to see through the haze of humanity.

But sometimes felt with passion, known with certainty, and enjoyed with abandon.

The sometimes-glimpse of heaven.

They never gave in to hopelessness. They knew that it was worth the work.

Until it was easy again.

They never stopped loving.

The bolded quotes below are comments that I received (on Facebook) regarding my post “Uninhibited Breastfeeding in Public {Reclaiming My Womanhood from Perversity}“.

“I just find it interesting that both sides worry about the other…let those who want to breastfeed breast feed however cover or no cover and others go on about their biz–people can i please have the time you spend worrying about this –this world is ridiculous –let s just all get along ”

“We all need to get over ourselves and worry about real problems like world hunger or something.”

Is this just a matter of “live and let live”? Is it true that we should just “let” everyone breastfeed the way they want, covered or uncovered, and just stop “worrying about it”? Is this a shallow and trite conversation not worth having?

I’m going to have to argue that it’s not that simple, and here’s why:

We perpetuate the over-sexualization of breasts by hiding away the natural use for them and attaching shame and discomfort to it, and in doing so we are in fact harming young girls and women.

This is bigger than just a personal rant for wanting to nurse without a cover. It is certainly not “just another mommy war”. It is about our society’s values and cultural lessons, and how we are raising each generation to think about the human body. It is about all of us.

A task force of the American Psychological Association defines sexualization as follows: “when a person’s value comes only from her/his sexual appeal or behavior, to the exclusion of other characteristics, and when a person is sexually objectified, e.g., made into a thing for another’s sexual use.” By attaching shame to the act of uncovered breastfeeding in public, it is an act of sexually objectifying the woman. It is basically saying that she couldn’t possibly have a non-sexual use of her breasts that is natural and appropriate for others to see.

This task force “on the Sexualization of Girls examined research papers covering the effect of all kinds of media content including television, music videos, magazines, video games, the Internet, movies, and music lyrics. They also looked at the way products are sold and advertised to young girls.” (source for the above quote and this one is here).

The findings of the task force were disturbing, but not all that surprising (to me, anyway). “The report suggests that the sexualization of girls impedes the healthy development of a girl or young woman in several different areas. For example by undermining her confidence and making her feel dissatisfied with her body, this can result in negative self-image and lead to feelings of shame and anxiety. Also, a body of evidence now links sexualization with several of the most common mental health problems in young women and girls: eating disorders, low self -esteem and depression. And there is also the increased chance that it will impact a girl’s ability to develop a healthy sexual self-image.”

I can’t really imagine how this is not a “real problem”. The fact is that the only images people in our culture are seeing of breasts are highly sexualized and pornographic in nature, which has been identified as the cause of multiple issues as described above. What better way to combat this issue than to remove the shame and negativity surrounding the act of breastfeeding and let our society see breasts being used in a way that is natural, non-sexual, and incredible (the intricacy of the design of milk production and the science of breastfeeding is quite fascinating and awe-inspiring!).

Our culture needs to see breasts being used in a context other than sexual if this twisted way of thinking is to ever be overcome. Check out this article and this website on how the over-sexualization of breasts is a cultural phenomenon that is hurting young people, men and women, and society as a whole. How many in our culture grow up having ever seen a non-sexualized photo of normal breasts? Breast tissue, nipple, and areola. The website that I just linked has hundreds of non-sexual photos of real, normal breasts, and discusses this very issue. Perhaps med students, in their textbooks, have seen photos of breasts. Doctors and nurses have seen breasts on the bodies of their female patients. Most of the general population, however, have no idea what normal breasts look like, because we have declared them to be obscene. The exception of course is the media’s twisted and demeaning portrayal of perky and large breasts that all look the same as the others. The reality though is that normal breasts have many variations in appearance, but thanks to not allowing normal breasts to ever be seen and the portrayal of “hollywood breasts” by the media, young girls are left wondering if they’re normal, and often times they are convinced that they are not. Breast augmentation surgery, mental health and body image issues, self-esteem issues are all issues that stem from this cultural practice of shaming public breastfeeding.

If the breast taboo in Western countries has caused a decrease in successful breastfeeding, then it’s not unreasonable to think it likely that the over-sexualization of breasts has also impacted developing nations. In my own four times visiting the beautiful continent of Africa and living in the homes of nationals for several months as their guests, I was privileged to witness the culture first-hand. My understanding surely only began to scratch the surface, but it was also far more than the average person in our culture will ever see or experience. One thing that I saw frequently was just how intensely our Western culture has influenced theirs. Everything is changing about their culture, for better or for worse, because of the common perception that the “white man’s” way is better. The reasons for this are more complex than I could possibly unpack right now, but suffice it to say that it is not at all a stretch to think that our culture’s unhealthy obsession with breasts has affected third world countries as well.

The ironic thing about the comment above is that this whole issue really is connected to world hunger, which is what the commenter suggested we worry about in the first place. In this piece in the New York Times by a journalist in Niger, breastfeeding rates in many developed countries are abysmally low. The strong recommendation by the World Health Organization is exclusive breastfeeding until six months of age, with continued breastfeeding to two years and beyond. In developing nations where clean water and adequate nutrition is not readily available, failing to follow this recommendation is far more deadly than in developed nations. Yet in Niger only 9 percent of babies are exclusively breastfed until six months. That’s up from 1 percent in 1998. “Next door to Niger in Burkina Faso, fewer than 7 percent of children get breast milk exclusively for six months. In Senegal it’s 14 percent; in Mauritania, 3 percent”, writes the author.

The Lancet, a British medical journal says that “1.4 million child deaths could be averted each year if babies were breast-fed properly. That’s one child dying unnecessarily every 22 seconds.” I’m not claiming that the over-sexualization of breasts in our culture and the pressure and shame surrounding uncovered nursing in public is the direct cause of babies dying in the third world, but I cannot deny that it seems highly likely that there is a connection, and the author of the NYT piece quoted above asks the same question.

Let’s help normalize breastfeeding and fight against the objectification of women’s breasts. Of course, your number one priority as a mama is your baby. Do whatever you and your baby need. Then consider your own role in this important conversation, and decide how you can help.

My breasts are an amazingly designed part of my body. They give nourishment and comfort to my babies. If that seems weird, obscene, or gross to you, then I feel sincerely sorry for you.

Breastfeeding in public – uncovered and unashamed – is not only my personal right. It is my responsibility. There are exceptions, of course, and I’m not saying that a distractible baby needs to be uncovered for the sake of making a statement, or someone who feels very shy because of their own body issues and upbringing, etc. should breastfeed uncovered for the sake of society at large. I do think though, that this is an issue that concerns us all. A topic very much worth discussing. And it is a conversation that I dare you to have more often.

Does this photo offend you? Just wondering. Because this is WAY more skin than I'd normally be showing while nursing in public. Most people would probably say that this is a beautiful image of bonding and love, and not inappropriate at all (nursing my daughter just minutes after she was born last summer). Oh, and by the way this is less exposed than most women on a beach on a typical summer's day. A perfect case in point is the commenter's public Facebook photos (see explanation below).

I wanted a bit of controversy to liven things up around here, and my last post sure delivered! Breastfeeding in public is about as controversial as it gets, and the comments that I’ve gotten (both here on the blog and via Facebook) have been interesting to say the least.

I tend to suppress my soapbox-ishness most of the time because I find that most people in our culture (with some exceptions of course) are simply incapable of rational debate and logical thought. If that sounds judgmental to you, then feel free to believe that I’m referring to you as the exception

Sometimes though, there’s a fire in me on a particular issue that I just need to express, and where else but on my blog? It’s my own personal space to share my thoughts and opinions as I see fit, and others are perfectly free to come and go as they please. Nothing here is required reading. I only ask that if you share your thoughts in response (which I LOVE) that you do it respectfully and with thoughtfulness (and by that I mean that you actually think through what you say). A debate about a controversial issue is not really the place to spout off emotional opinions without rational thought or basis. It’s just not helpful. I’m not going to run down the list and tell you which comments I thought were not very well rationalized. I will just let my own responses speak for themselves.

***

{Each bolded quote is a comment that I received (either here on on FB) specifically regarding this post. Please note that all comments are cut and pasted exactly as they were written, including any spelling/grammatical errors. Below are my responses.}

“This article fails to take into account that a woman pursuing her right to openly breast feed is forcing someone else to give up their right to be in that same public place without having to look at another woman’s breast. Just because the woman nursing doesn’t view her body as private or sacred, doesn’t mean others need to be forced to see it. Many woman do. All this article is talking about is men being aroused or offended. But there are plenty of woman out there who are. Or perhaps, a mother who has not yet had that talk with her young child. In aggressively asserting your right to nurse, you are forcing others to give up theirs.”

Yikes! Where to begin?

First of all, I do view my body as sacred.

{I also think it’s completely unfair and irrational to assume that a woman who breastfeeds without covering doesn’t view her body as sacred. She perhaps has a greater view of the sacredness of her body and what it is capable of doing than does the average person who thinks that teeny-tiny bikinis are ok but breastfeeding is obscene}.

It doesn’t logically follow that just because my body is sacred that I must therefore keep it completely covered. Unless of course you agree with the extremist Muslim groups who force women to wear burqas.

{does she hold her body as sacred? more than you and I?}

I also would say there are certain parts of my body that I consider to be private, but not all parts. I do wear normal clothing, like pants and shirts, just like most everyone else, but I don’t cover my entire body from head to foot. I don’t wear a burqa, or walk around covered from head to toe in any way. I will have to completely disagree that this means I don’t view my body as sacred.

Also, if I’m being honest this comment kind of made me laugh. There is no such thing as the “right to be in a public place without having to look at another woman’s breast”. There are public nudity laws, but breastfeeding is legally exempt from those. It is, in fact, the complete opposite from the so-called “right to not see another woman’s breast”.

You are sadly misinformed if you think that you have any sort of “right” to not see a mother breastfeeding her baby without covering up. The law protects the exact opposite, and says that asking or demanding that a mother cover up or hide while breastfeeding is in fact discriminatory and illegal.

In Canada the right to breastfeed in public is protected by the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms, with specific legislation in Ontario and British Columbia, and support from the provincial Human Rights Commissions. There are also numerous cases of companies harassing women while breastfeeding in their establishment only to have to backpedal and publicly apologize later. ”The Ministry of the Attorney General of British Columbia states it this way, “Nursing mothers have the right to breastfeed their children in a public area, and it is discriminatory to ask them to cover up or breastfeed somewhere else.”(source)”.

In the United States, the right to breastfeed is even more explicitly protected, with specific legislation having been passed in a majority of the states declaring a mother’s right to breastfeed in any public place without harassment or discrimination.

In this comment, the word “force” (or some variation) was used three times, with the word “aggressive” thrown in for good measure. I find this absurd as well, to be honest. No one is forcing you to eat at that restaurant, or shop at that store, let alone look at the breastfeeding mama and babe. No one put a gun to your head and demanded you go sit in the coffee shop and stare at the woman sitting there quietly breastfeeding her baby. You are perfectly free to leave or look away (or as has been so eloquently stated before: “put a blanket over your own head”). You do in fact have that “right”.

I’m not entirely sure what this commenter was getting at when she said that some women are aroused or offended too. My post mostly referred to men because they are more commonly the ones that have issues with seeing breastfeeding. If a woman was aroused or offended by it I’d say the exact same things to her as I would to the male population. Was there a further point here that I’m missing?

The last thing from this comment that I will address (it was quite the comment…) is this “a mother who has not yet had that talk with her young child”. I’m assuming that the implication is that somehow a young child would be harmed psychologically by seeing a woman breastfeed, or by finding out that breasts are not just a sex toy. I’m not sure what “talk” she is referring to, but perhaps it would go something like this: “Honey, now that you are nearly a teenager and your view of breasts and a woman’s body has been firmly twisted and distorted by the hyper-sexualized and pornographic culture and media, I think it’s time to tell you that breasts are actually… um… also used for nourishing babies…!!!” I can imagine how disturbing that would be. Personally I would rather contribute to the normalization of breasts being used for breastfeeding and fight against the devaluation of women as sexual objects.

Do you want to know the most ironic and ridiculous thing? I clicked on this particular person’s public facebook profile (not someone I know at all), and there were photos posted of her wearing a tiny bikini at the beach. If she wants to fabricate out of thin air the right to not see other women’s boobs, then perhaps she shouldn’t be flashing hers all over a public beach, not to mention wearing extremely low-cut tops that show a ton of cleavage. Is it just me, or is that the most head-scratching representation of hypocrisy that I’ve seen in a very long time? Realistically though, she is sadly also a victim of our culture’s irrational pronouncement that THIS is acceptable in public (don’t click that link if you make a point of avoiding beaches because of the nearly-naked bodies), and yet THIS is not.

***

PLEASE NOTE: the comments + my responses have gotten to be way too long to put in a single blog post, so I am now tackling them one or two at a time. This was the first one. Next up is the assertion that we should stop worrying about such silly things and focus on “real problems like world hunger instead”…

{Welcome to my soapbox! Grab a cup of tea and get comfy. This is a long one!}

I have a grand total of 29 months of nursing under my belt now. I nursed Isaac until he was a year, and at nearly 17 months, I’m still nursing Aliza. I’m also pregnant with our third, and anticipating a long and mutually satisfying nursing relationship with the new little one.

I have nursed in pretty well any public place I’ve ever been. I’ve nursed in the thrift store, sitting in an old armchair. I’ve nursed at the mall (and not in the breastfeeding room! how scandalous!). I’ve nursed in a park, at friend’s houses, at restaurants, at the doctor’s office, and at the zoo. If my baby was hungry, I found a place to sit down, and I nursed. I’ve never owned or used a nursing cover, and other than a few times in those brand-new first-time mama days (back when I still sort of believed that it was a shameful thing) I’ve never covered my babies’ heads with blankets. I simply wore tops that enabled me to not flash my postpartum belly flab all around (usually I layered a tank underneath), shifted my clothing as needed to allow my baby access to her lunch, and then sat back to enjoy bonding with my babe.

I recently read an article that was anti nursing-covers. It was a thought-provoking piece that discussed the inherent problems in our culture with expecting women to cover up while nursing. I tend to agree with most of it. The point was not to shame women who wear nursing covers, but to point out the problem with our society that causes women to feel they even need to cover in the first place.

The real issue at hand for me is the expectation that women should cover their breasts at all times, and that it is inappropriate to ever show even the tiniest bit of breast, even if they are simply being used to nourish a baby.

Allow me to explain why…

***

Here are some of the arguments I’ve heard, and my own response to them:

1) Just because breastfeeding is natural doesn’t mean that it should be on display. Sex/urination/defecation are also “natural” and yet we don’t engage in them in public.

MY RESPONSE: Comparing breastfeeding to sex (or urination, etc) is simply not a good analogy. They are entirely different categories. Breastfeeding is the act of feeding a child, not creating one, and it is certainly not similar to urinating or having a bowel movement! Breastfeeding is simply a baby eating a meal. It is not smelly, germy, or dirty. We don’t expect to be served our steak dinner in a public bathroom when we are out to dine. Why should baby? We can stuff an older babe’s face with sweet potatoes while in a high chair, and no one gets offended, so obviously the issue is the fact that it is a breast that is being used, not that the baby is eating. I will address this “offensiveness of breasts” below.

I’d also like to point out that I’ve never whipped my top off like a stripper, flung it across the room, and took on a seductive posture while nursing my babies. I’ve never heard of any other woman doing that either. Sex and breastfeeding are simply two completely different bodily functions which happen to both involve breasts in very different ways. Sex doesn’t involve drinking milk, and breastfeeding does not include reproduction. The differences are so obvious I fear I am overstating my case, but then again I find this “argument” pretty ridiculous to begin with.

2) If a man sees a tiny sliver of breast, then he will be flung into sin and temptation for sexual lust and perverse thoughts. We are responsible for guarding this from happening whenever possible!

MY RESPONSE: My husband says that he has never seen a woman breastfeeding and become sexually aroused or experienced lustful thoughts. He also doesn’t know of any other guys for which this is an issue. That doesn’t mean that it never happens, but I think it’s worth mentioning that perhaps this is far, far from being the norm. Furthermore, perhaps the normalization of breastfeeding in our culture could cause men to have a healthier view of a woman’s body as having dual purposes for both reproduction/breastfeeding, and sexuality. Perhaps perverse ways of thinking about a woman’s breasts can be blamed at least in part on the fact that breastfeeding in public is surrounded by shame and controversy, and the fact that our culture is way over saturated by the sexualization of the woman’s body, especially breasts. (By “perverse ways” I mean the idea that breasts are solely sexual objects that exist for a man’s sexual pleasure, and the idea that a man cannot see them as anything else. Like a way to nourish babies.)

And again, furthermore, perhaps we should recognize that a man’s sexual sin is his own responsibility, and that men are faced every day in our culture with inappropriate sexual imagery, whether it’s an ad on the side of a bus, a 60 foot ad on the wall in a shopping mall, or Kim Kardashian’s cleavage on a magazine cover in the grocery store. My husband is not a cave man, nor an animal. He has the ability to channel his sexual passions where they belong – within our marriage. If he sees something designed to sexually stimulate or arouse outside of the proper context of marriage (ie. other than his wife), he has trained his mind to “move along!”

One more point on this one: I think it’s pertinent to point out that men have imaginations (and plenty of real pictorial representation to draw on thanks to our culture). If they see a woman nursing under a giant piece of fabric, they more than likely know exactly what you are doing, as does everyone within a half-mile radius. There’s no hiding those things. Your breasts may not be showing, but a man is still perfectly capable of lusting in his heart simply by thinking about the breasts that are so obviously uncovered under that piece of fabric. Same thing goes for a woman who picks up her crying baby and leaves the room to nurse privately. Most men will probably figure out what you are doing, and again, are perfectly capable of lusting and thinking perverse thoughts should they so choose. If in fact it is the woman’s responsibility to guard the man from lusting, then perhaps we should consider not leaving the house for the duration of the nursing relationship? It would be 16.5 months and counting for me, though I daresay I’d be getting cabin fever by now.

3) Breasts are inherently sexual, and as such are inherently private.

MY RESPONSE: Actually they are inherently dual-purposed. Breasts were designed to give sexual pleasure within a marriage covenant, and they were designed to nourish and comfort a baby. One purpose is not greater than the other.

I would argue that by rightly criticizing the hyper-sexualization of our culture we have thrown the proverbial baby out with the bath water, and forgotten that breasts were actually designed for something other than luring a man into a store to open his wallet.

I love how a new (to me) blogger called MamaPsalmist puts it: “If/when men only see breasts in a sexualized way, the sexuality is reinforced with each exposure.  When you start to temper that extreme view, you desensitize him to his incorrect notion that breasts are only for him.” It makes sense! No wonder a perverse/incomplete view of a woman’s body is so common – “uncovered” breastfeeding in public is practically a taboo in our culture. Men (not to mention young men/teenagers for whom this is even more critical!) are not given the opportunity to take on a healthy view of women’s bodies. They are set up for failure from the start, and we are victims of our own making.

The fact that breasts are seen only as a source for a man’s sexual fulfilment is simply a reflection of our culture’s perverse view of the woman’s body. I for one choose to not perpetuate the perversity by agreeing that breastfeeding is shameful or in any way needing to be hidden or covered. I totally get that some women are uncomfortable with nursing in public, and that covering up helps them to nurse more comfortably when they otherwise may not even nurse at all. I understand that, and I am glad that they have decided to breastfeed despite feeling unsure/uncomfortable. But until more and more of us are willing to stand against this perverse understanding of breastfeeding and the woman’s body, each generation of new mamas will continue to feel unsure and uncomfortable by doing one of the most natural things by breastfeeding her baby. I believe that this is an injustice and a tragedy.

If scores of men began admitting that they find a woman’s lips extremely seductive (this is actually completely realistic!), would we as women feel it is now our duty to cover our faces? Lips are another good example of a body part that has dual-functions of eating and sexuality. We use our lips to eat, and we use them for kissing. Perhaps we should all just wear burqas? Where would we draw the line? I think this question is begging an answer, and I’d love to hear any possible counter-argument. The only way to avoid that conclusion would be to admit that it is not a woman’s responsibility to ensure that men are not tempted. Of course I’m not saying that we can or should dress like whores, but to be honest I believe that the main issue with dressing like a whore would be disrespecting the body that God gave me, not leading a man into sin.

4) The Bible itself views breasts as sexual objects – haven’t you read Song of Solomon?!

MY RESPONSE: Ah yes, this is what led me to click over to MamaPsalmist’s site in the first place. What a fascinating study she has done! She has discovered that the Bible does in fact reference breasts a fair bit. There are seven references to breasts in a sexual manner: four in Song of Solomon, two in Ezekiel, and one in Proverbs. Then she writes, “How many times does the bible reference breasts in the context of breastfeeding?  14.  Plus 10 other references to nursing and drinking mother’s milk.  Twenty-four times the bible references breastfeeding without shame.   Without hesitation.  Without hiding it under a blanket or in another room.”

In case you missed it – the biblical references to breasts as sexual objects are less than half of all biblical references to breasts/breastfeeding/mother’s milk.

5) There are a lot of creepos out there. Do you really want some random dude in the mall seeing your breasts and getting off on it?

MY RESPONSE: Well, uh, I’d have to say no, I don’t believe I would want that (duh!). But there are also pedophiles walking around, who may see my children sitting with me and think nasty perverse things about them. I can’t really prevent that, and to be honest, I’m glad I don’t know about it. What is the answer? To pretend I don’t have children? Maybe stuff them in a suitcase? Under a burqa? Never let them leave the house again? Hmmm. Clearly that argument is not really helpful. I will not put a “what if” before my baby’s need to be fed. The thought of doing so is clearly ridiculous, and would likely lead to hiding away in my basement for the rest of my life.

***

Obviously I feel strongly about this issue. I’ve been thinking about it for several years, and I’ve read and discussed many times on it. But why?

Because I dream of a culture where women can feel completely free to nourish their babies in the most natural and beautiful way, uninhibited by perverse and demeaning views of their bodies.

I refuse to buy into the lie that I should be ashamed of my body, or of using it to feed my baby her lunch.

I refuse to hide, to cover, or to be embarrassed if I accidentally flash a small bit of skin while my wiggly baby is latching on.

I refuse to be guilted into thinking that seeing me using my breasts to feed my baby are the cause of a man’s sin.

Because one day, perhaps if enough women refuse to perpetuate the lies any longer, we will take our womanhood back from the sexualized perversity that has claimed it, and be free to enjoy our God-given purpose and identity once again.

***

UPDATED TO ADD: Further discussion on this topic can be found here (Part One) and here (Part Two), as I responded to some of the critics against my arguments. I also have one more post to add to the discussion that’s not up yet… but stay tuned!

Linked up with Megan @ SortaCrunchy for My Green Resource this week!

The kiddos are downstairs in their new playroom happily going about their childhood, not (yet) fighting or crying or needing me for one of a million possible reasons. I stand at the sink dreamily washing the dishes because the dear hard-working hubby has not yet had a chance to install the dishwasher. The warm water and suds swirl around my hands, turning them pruney, as I listen to Christmas music and feel quite productive. After all, it’s only 9:30am and I’ve showered, dressed, made and served breakfast, washed the dishes (almost), and remembered to do vitamin D and CLO all around. Others may laugh at my version of productivity, but to me this day is unfolding with joy and an everydayness that is the very reason for why I consider my life to be untradeable and inimitable.

There is no other place I’d rather be.

I am not an oppressed woman, bound to the kitchen and the badly-needing-swept-floors. To the wiping of snotty noses and diapered bums. I am not a victim of a system of anti-feminists and narrow-minded patriarchs. It may not be glamorous in the traditional sense of the word but please, know this: I am a strong woman with a mind of her own (oh mercy, many can attest to this fact!), and I willingly and gladly and knowingly chose this life. This exact life.

Barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen, with a contentedness that you could not buy for all the money in the entire world.

That is perhaps the real reason for this sense of productivity: the peace in my heart and the joy that bubbles in my toes, tapping to the Christmas music, as I scrub the pot of burnt chili from last night’s dinner. There are dinner fiascos, cranky children (and parents), distance between spouses, pregnancy fatigue, losing tempers and yelling, apologies, and always, always a return to each other’s arms, eventually. This is one family that will not be taken down, that will not be allowing a crack for the enemy to enter. This is real life and it is too damn valuable to be anything less than amazing. And so we press on. Burnt dinner, arguments, and toes touching in bed as we fall asleep, and we breathe deep in the beauty of the mundane stuff that is our life.

Woven in throughout the stuff of life is the joy and peace of knowing that this is it. This is the life I asked for, and I wouldn’t trade it. For this moment, I am focused on the things that matter, and when you catch that glimpse of joy it is deep and soul-burning. My breath catches in my throat, and I know.

I just know.

This is love.

It is a total honour for me today to share with you this interview that I had the pleasure of doing with Sarah from Emerging Mummy. She is a strong woman and a provocative writer with an almost poetic style that just flows, rich with wisdom and depth. Her heart is beautiful and kindred, and I am blessed to call her a friend.

Her recent piece “In Which I Write a Letter to Women’s Ministry” is well-deserving of your time, and has garnered quite a reaction from a varied audience. Other favourites of mine include pretty well every post in her Practices of Mothering series, and also this one “In Which I Can Feel Like Sisyphus“, and oh, so many more!

Enjoy!

***

1. How long have you been a housewife? How many kids do you have?

I’ve been married for a little over 10 years now. My three tinies are 5 year old Anne, 3 year old Joe and 6 month old Evelynn.

2. When was the first time you really reflected on your womanhood, and what it means?

I was brought up in a family of strong women – my mother, my Aunties, my Grannys, my cousins. My mother walked in tremendous freedom and confidence; her voice was valued in our home. She and my father modelled a healthy and loving egalitarian marriage. They are both strong personalities and I learned a tremendous amount from both of them about womanhood. They both had high expectations on us in every way. I don’t think I realised what a gift this was until I was confronted with what many in our society (and to be truthful, a lot of churches) believe about womanhood.

Then when I was in my late teens and 20s, I came into a new understanding of womanhood, particularly the power of sisterhood. And then once I gave birth to my tinies, I’ve become more passionate about the voice of women in our world for redemption, reconciliation with God, wholeness and justice. I wasn’t intent on becoming so passionate about womanhood, not on my radar at all really, but when I experienced and saw the change that women can bring about in their homes, their families, the broader world, it seemed to me that if women were released from whatever is holding them back (and there is a lot) then a lot of the issues would be tackled. My carpenter-theologian of a husband has been a big part of my freedom to write and speak boldly about what interests me – in the world, in politics, in the church, in theology, in mothering, in love – he encourages my voice and gives me tremendous honour, challenges me.  And we love to wrestle through our thoughts together. He has been deeply influential in my growth and perceptions on womanhood. His passion for our tinies – not just our girls but also our son – to also experience a redeemed God-view of personhood is as deep as my own.

Also, I work for Mercy Ministries of Canada which is a free-of-charge, residential home for young women that struggle with many life-controlling issues (drug and alcohol abuse, physical and sexual abuse, depression, eating disorders, self-harm and so on). And to hear their stories, to witness Jesus transform their lives as they begin to live life with hope, intention and love is incredible. These women are my heroes. I often say that if I could have most people sit down to talk with these women, most of us would become more passionate about womanhood!

3. What do you think is lacking in society’s understanding of women?

In the broader society, one that springs to mind is that I think that we reduce a woman down to her appearance. We define ourselves by our appearance, we define each other by our appearance. The world will tell you that you are only worthy of love if you look or act a certain way. And that is a tremendous lie to overcome, to see beyond our cultural definitions of beauty to God’s definition of beauty and loveliness. We also tend to value a woman by her relationships to others – is she a wife? a mother? is she doing those things “the right way”?

I also struggle with society’s views on a womans’ sexuality – the growth and normalisation of pornography, human slavery/sex trafficking, even hyper-sexuality among young people – all of it is connected to the lack of value on womanhood, on personhood, on being made in the image of God. Our culture is quite messed up on womanhood.

And then beyond that, within the church, we have benched half the church with flawed theology around womanhood. So there is that as well. But I won’t stir that pot for you here.

4. Do you think that any of the ‘women stereotypes’ are true?

Well, not really. I don’t think that stereotypes are particularly helpful for true understanding. And almost every stereotype I have heard about women – they are catty, they don’t like sex, they are jealous, they like chocolate, they all want to be wives and mothers – isn’t true for some women (just as there are many men that actually do like emotional intimacy or don’t like to shoot things and so on). Womanhood is diverse in every way – as it should be.  When we direct all of our energies towards meeting the needs of the stereotypes or even guarding ourselves against the stereotypes of women, we don’t leave room for God to move, for the universal truths about women and men to emerge, for true relationship, vulnerability and authenticity.  I think it’s more helpful to look at a woman as her own person, at a man as his own person, and leave the assumptions at the door.  I admit to kicking against stereotypes rather joyfully. I have found women to be just as diverse as men in their likes, their dislikes, their opinions, their sexuality, their personalities. It’s reductionist and childish to lump us together simply by gender.

5. How does having a global perspective change your view of women?

Immensely. Once I realised that God’s view of womanhood is much broader than “stay at home mum” vs. “work at home mum” for instance – that there is a broad, beautiful quilt of womanhood in every season of life and calling, that many choices we have in the West are, by their very nature, choices of privilege, it changed everything.  I became ashamed of some of my more myopic views, not only of womanhood but of Christianity, war, birth, mothering, peace, justice, community, money, success, all of it. Part of my journey has been a move towards peacemaking or what I call “an uneasy pacifism” – much of that was motivated by my understanding of womanhood from a global perspective, from the realisation that women in Afghanistan, Iraq and the world over are my sisters and we are in this together. I am tremendously inspired and challenged by the voices of women around the world – our sisters from all parts of the globe in Iran, Ireland and the Ivory Coast. It’s a beautiful song we’re singing.

6. How do you relate to other women? Do you find it easy to do?

I love women. I love to listen to women, I love to hear our stories, to worship together, to pray together, to work together, to laugh. I value my friendships and try to stay in touch despite our frequent moves or the dailyness of life. Now forgive the generalisation ahead —  I find that most women are walking wounded in their relationships with other women. But – and there’s the but – they are hungry for women. They know in their soul we are meant to be on the same side, we are meant to be together, that there is something beautiful in sisterhood. So I try to give what I’ve heard called the gift of being second. I take the first step – make the first phone call, make the first overture of friendship, make the first confession, get vulnerable and authentic and truthful first and then they only have to step out in the safe space I’ve created for us.

7. If you could have coffee with any woman in history, who would it be?

Oh, gracious! that’s a great question. I’d love to sit down with Mother Theresa, with Luci Shaw, Madeline L’Engle, Maya Angelou, Tina Fey, Marilyn Skinner. I could go on for days! But there are also a lot of women in my life that I love to sit down with that aren’t famous in the least, just quietly leading lives of dignity and love and hope – those are usually the true heroes, let’s be honest.

***

Now it’s your turn! Pick your favourite question (or two!) and tell me your answers. This is the stuff I love to chat about with friends over a good cup of tea (and if you also live here in Tiny Town then let’s have a Tea House date to do that!), so please do share… I’d love to hear your thoughts on these questions and on womanhood in general.

{above: getting my hair done for my sister(in-law)’s wedding in August}

***

I was browsing the bookstore, hot beverage of choice in hand, wasting time.

Teenagers have abundant amounts of free time, and I was using mine in a bookstore. I was a bit of a geek, which, in hindsight, didn’t help matters much… But I’m getting ahead of myself here.

I don’t remember how, but a beautiful large coffee-table-style book caught my eye. The subject? Redheads. Intrigued, I pulled it down to look through it. I opened it up to find beautiful full-page photographs of all manner of redheads. Young and old, curly and straight, freckled and non-freckled.

The introductory text began as follows: “Redheads are traditionally thought of as the ugly members of society…”

Ouch.

Um, thanks for that memo…

***

That was my introduction to the fact that red hair is not usually considered “beautiful”. Oh sure, I’ve had scads of people tell me in person that they think my hair is absolutely gorgeous. Random strangers, even. It happens regularly. But traditionally the blondes and brunettes are thought to win out over redheads in the attractiveness department. Call me sheltered, but I had no idea, until that moment. I wouldn’t say it scarred me for life, or shattered my self-image… but let me tell you – I never forgot it.

Every girl/woman goes through some sort of body image journey in her life. I’ve never met or heard of a woman who can honestly say that she’s never struggled to think of herself as beautiful.

That journey for me started at summer camp when I was a wee elementary-school-age kid, and a cabin mate informed me that she had figured out “what was wrong with me”. She told me that I “have no chin”. I did in fact have a bottom jaw that was too far back, and ended up having surgery when I was 17 to break both of my jaws, move the bottom one forward, shorten the top one, and I now have permanent titanium screws and plates in my head, holding them together {the surgery was for medical reasons}.

The thing was, I had no idea before that moment that my chin was any different from anyone else’s.

My self-image continued to unfurl its way into my consciousness when I was introduced to makeup at a friend’s house after school in grade 5 or 6. I discovered that my red-blonde, almost invisible eyelashes and eyebrows could be dark like the magazine models by using a bit of mascara and pencil.

I haven’t really gone out in public without makeup on more than a handful of times since.

Except… the last month or so. I’ve worn makeup about a total of maybe two times.

My naked face has been strangely liberating.

source: http://pinterest.com/pin/21246616/

You have to understand – this is momentous. I have always ALWAYS put on makeup just to leave the house for any reason – the grocery store, the library, good grief even the swimming pool (that’s what waterproof mascara is for, right?). I have wondered at times though what it was in my mind that prevented me from just letting go and being ok with the face God gave me.

To be clear… I don’t think there’s anything wrong with makeup, unless you think there is something wrong with your face without it.

I have also wondered what impressions my children were gaining as they watched me paint my face each and every day. Would they think that a woman could not be beautiful unless she was wearing makeup? Would my son learn to objectify women as objects of contrived beauty and slaves to the commercial beauty industry? Would my daughter learn that her physical worth was found in a makeup bag, and that she wasn’t good enough on her own?

I was at my favourite place here in Tiny Town to pick up a dessert and take it home for hubby and I just over a month ago. I had no makeup on, hadn’t showered, and basically looked like crap (according to my personal charitable assessment). Karen, the loveliest tea house owner in the world, asked if I was staying, and I sort of laughed and said “oh gosh no, I haven’t showered, I don’t even have any make-up on, I normally wouldn’t even have left the house like this if it weren’t for an insurmountable carrot cake craving!”. She looked me in the eyes and told me that she had actually been thinking that my face looked particularly beautiful at that time.

I don’t know if she was just being polite, but for some crazy reason, I believed her.

Of course, I’ve always known that I am beautiful “in Christ” (whatever that even means), beautiful on the inside, blah blah, etc. But something in me has recently changed.

I now believe it about my outside too.

{It had been brewing in me for nearly a year now, but my dear friend’s comment that night really did me in}.

Shortly thereafter I started going out in without makeup on. To places I’d never have gone before without at LEAST my mascara and eyebrow pencil. Girls’ night, Mom’s Group, out and about in town, the city, small group, etc. The funny thing was – I didn’t get treated any differently, and I mostly forgot that I “looked different”.

I am finding that the body image that the world tried so hard to place upon me has sometimes slipped my mind altogether, and I often find myself completely convinced that I am beautiful. Not in the cookie-cutter Hollywood kind of way, but in my own “me” kind of way. In the red haired and freckled kind of way. And, to be honest, I’ve always kind of thought that my blue eyes were a particularly pretty shade .

I laugh in the face of the branding of ugliness that is so prevalent among girls and women. I rebel against the self-deprecation that has become almost expected among us. I refuse to let those lies permeate my mind.

I have red hair.

Freckles.

A chin that I struggle to really love.

A stretch-marked and decidedly un-model-like body that has served me well, and a sexiness that you will not find in a magazine.

Gorgeous blue eyes (did I really just say gorgeous? hello, self-confidence!).

I sometimes forget my “ugliness”, and it’s a really beautiful thing.

***

{This post is part of my Confessions of a Real Housewife series. I’m a little behind due to first-trimester fatigue and the fact that we moved across town two days ago. I am plugging along and plan to finish the 31 Days regardless, so I hope you continue to read and share your thoughts. Thanks for grace and understanding!}

{under keys to a great marriage, see also: “marry a sexy italian pilot”. i’m guessing it’s relative to each person’s situation, but hey, it worked for me }

***

{Yes, this is day 26. Yes, I’m just now posting a day 25 post. Yes, I do believe that means I am an official failure. OK, I’m (mostly) kidding. Perfectionism is a beast, but I will give myself grace. I will. I will…

I am 7 weeks pregnant, and this dang first trimester is steam rolling me right into the ground. I’ve been napping in the afternoons. NAPPING! I *don’t* nap. Like, uh, EVER. So the fact that my eyelids feel heavier than a half-ton load is quite the indication that perhaps this baby the size of a chickpea (or whatever other legume we’re comparing unborn children to this time) is completely and utterly kicking my (ever-widening) butt. It’s that crazy did-someone-slip-something-into-my-drink-because-i’m-gonna-just-pass-out-now feeling. It’s freaky. The first time I was pregnant this happened too, and I figured if I didn’t know I was pregnant, I would be convinced I was dying. Nonetheless I don’t want to give up, and I will have 31 posts in the end. I’m not sure if I will add an extra after the series to make up for yesterday, or if I should try to catch up now. Either way… I’m gonna keep chugging along…}

***

So, let’s talk about selflessness. I think this is the number one most difficult thing to do in a marriage. Heck, just in general. We as humans are not inclined to selflessness, not in the slightest. Our human fleshly nature is prone to looking out for numero uno first and foremost, because if we don’t, then who will? (or so we think). It is counter-cultural, it goes against our nature, and it is nearly impossible on our own strength.

In other words, I am so freaking selfish. I am wrapped up in myself, my needs, my wants, and my desires. As much as I try not to be, I catch myself doing it again and again. This sinful nature warps my mind and clings to my leg like dead weight that just won’t let go.

And yet…

I strive. I do not give up. I trudge along toward selflessness, and I choose to die to myself and live in Christ. I can make a choice for selflessness in my marriage.

The dictionary defines selflessness as follows:

selfless

Despite all of that, we know that a marriage partnership is best served by selflessness from both partners. The very act of marriage is a declaration that you care for this person and commit to serving his or her needs above your own. This is not meant to be a rote act of grim determination (though it may need to start out that way). Rather, it is a heart condition; the very act of dying to self is inherent in the journey of a Christ-follower, and this spills out into our relationships as well. Our motivation is love, and our hearts are desperate for genuine reciprocal selfless love. To be loved with abandon (of self-interest, of inhibitions), and to love in return – that is a gift.

I find that the closer I am to Christ in my days, the easier it is to act selflessly for my husband. To what is your heart attuned? (I ask myself). What is influencing your mind and soul? Turn your ears and eyes to Him, and you will find yourself emulating his character. Find Him woven into your days and seek the divine among the mundane. There is beauty in this wrestling, as we seek to throw off our old nature and take on the new.

I know I feel loved when he puts me before himself. It is a mighty powerful thing. And it can be the little things! In fact, it most often is the little things… like when I was finishing putting Isaac to bed the other night, and I finally came downstairs to him wiping down the counters after having done all the dishes and cleaning out the fridge (a task that desperately needed done), and he had washed the dishes that came out of the fridge too! He easily could have plopped onto the couch and relaxed instead of doing that task, but he didn’t. He chose to serve me by taking care of the chore I most dread, all without even being asked. I felt abundantly loved in that moment, and motivated to reciprocate.

It’s simple, but a habit I am trying to instill more strongly in our marriage. How does it start, if it’s not already there? It starts with me. I can change my own actions, and trust that he does love me enough to respond in kind (though I must communicate with him to be sure he understands what I am trying to do, otherwise he might not even realize that I am making an effort).

I obviously don’t have it all figured out, and if this post seems scattered and unclear, it is perhaps because I am in the midst of this journey myself. This is a daily struggle for me, as we’ve inched towards selfishness and laziness in our relationship and are trying to figure out how to die to ourselves again, mutually serving each other and loving sacrificially. It all sounds good in theory, but it’s a hard concept to make into reality.

How do you make selflessness a part of your marriage? Do you find it difficult? Do you think it’s important? If you would, share a way that you can serve your spouse in an act of selflessness.

This post is late.

Technically, it’s still day 24, but my unofficial goal throughout this series has been to have the day’s post up first thing in the morning. So, today’s is late. It’s 3:33pm, and I’m just starting to write. My toddler will wake from her nap any second now, and supper won’t make itself. I don’t anticipate this post being published until after the kiddos are in bed this evening, if I’m lucky (and… it’s 10:10pm. Looks like I was right!).

I’m going to make this short and sweet – I’m in my first trimester of pregnancy, my kids are both coughing and snotty messes, and they wake up at the ungodly hour of 6am these days. All that to say – I’m headed to bed as soon I hit publish.

The lesson for me today was simple – keep your priorities in check. Today, my kids, my house, and my husband needed me, and I chose to put them first. That, unfortunately, meant that a blog post did not get written and posted on time.

What I did manage to accomplish, however, was three meals, a clean kitchen, a clean and vacuumed living room, 5 loads of laundry (with great credit to my amazing honey), listening to the three-year-old telling me a long and drawn out story as I gave him my undivided attention, holding and nursing my teething toddler who just needed a little bit of extra mama today, bath time, bed time, and then snuggling on the couch with popcorn and a movie on our laptop.

There was a little bit of frustration, some harsh words, and breaths of grace lavished richly. Tears, pain, and clashing. Cuddles, love, and comfort. And at the end of the day, we had family story time in our PJ’s, and cuddled them as they drifted off to dreamland. Tonight we’ll dole out homemade cough syrup, give drinks of water, and cuddles as needed.

Tomorrow will be a new day, and I have no idea when my blog post will get published.

But that’s ok, because my family is my first priority. Today I chose my priorities wisely, and I feel richly satisfied with my achievements.

May you always remember to choose your priorities wisely, and build into your relationships above all else!

Good night!

Yikes, the homestretch is upon us! I can hardly believe that the month is soon drawing to a close. Some days I have been more motivated and inspired to write than others, but I have successfully posted every day thus far. Not exactly always on topic (according to the weekly topics I set out), but hey, I’m an INFP, and tend to leave things open-ended, in case ‘something better’ comes along. It’s a blessing and a curse, really. Anyway, this is really not the point of my post for today…

I want to take the next couple of days and talk about some things that I see as necessary for an amazing marriage, before we end off the month with some thoughts on womanhood.

Today I want to share what I think, then I want to hear from you. Mainly because I don’t feel I have it all figured out, and would value your wisdom and input.

One thing that I think is absolutely essential for an amazing marriage is physical touch (and there are rare exceptions, like when a spouse is away from home for extended periods of time, i.e. military, etc). For the most part, for couples living under the same roof and interacting on a daily basis, I think it is vital that there be regular physical acts of affection. And I don’t just mean the obvious act of intimacy. I mean kissing, hugging, holding hands, touching one another in any way. Back rubs and foot rubs, even the simple act of his thumb rubbing my hand absentmindedly as we hold hands, or the way our bums snuggle up to one another each night before we fall asleep, or how our feet find each other under the dinner table. The way our bodies press together in embrace in the kitchen when stress levels are high and we’re all tired, and we just want to be on the same page.

I know that different people have differing levels of need for physical touch/affection, and that can sometimes cause a strain in a marriage. There is however a minimum, I believe. I think physical affection is a necessary part of a healthy marriage. What that minimum is, each couple will have to decide for themselves. What I do know is that when those things listed above are absent from our days, we begin to feel more like (grumpy!) roommates than married lovers.

It’s just natural, isn’t it? When you are with someone you love, you feel inclined to reach out and touch them in some way. We are created as physical beings with bodies that crave touch. It is one of those primal human instincts that is so basic, nad the lack of touch can even be harmful.

It’s so easy when you’re tired, you’re busy, you’re focused on other things, to forget and let the day slip by with nary a kiss or cuddle. I try to be intentional about touch in my days with my honey, in our journey to a great marriage.

Do you find it easy to let physical affection slip through the cracks? Do you intentionally make a point of kissing your spouse every single day? Any other thoughts? 

{This insightful guest post is from one of my most favourite bloggers ever: Megan from SortaCrunchy (which recently got a makeover and is SO adorable). Her genuine charm and southern drawl (yes, even in typing!) are just about the most endearing things ever. The best part of her though, is her beautiful heart. She is a woman with a deep love for others, loads of grace, and care for the world around her. She inspires me in so many ways, and I am honoured to have her words in this space today. Please give her a warm welcome and leave your thoughts in the comments!}

***

The picture is all still very clear in my mind: the hotel conference room where we had our rehearsal dinner, filled with some of the most important women in my life. Most had never been in the same room with each other, nor would they ever be again, and yet there they all were, gathering around to watch me open sexy negligees at my “personal shower.” The menfolk and children had long since cleared out, and we were left to ourselves and giggles and stories and advice.

One of the hostesses had asked everyone to share their best pieces of marital advice, and so amidst Victoria’s Secret wrappings and pink tissue paper and slippery, silky nighties, the words of wisdom surrounded me.

To be honest, I don’t remember a lot of what was spoken into my life that night, but there is this one thing I do remember, one thing I took hold of and have put into practice many times in our thirteen years of marriage. One of my best friends, unmarried at the time and two years younger than me (and I was just shy of my 21st birthday, mind you), spoke with authority that it was okay to go to bed angry. Sometimes it’s the best thing you can do, she said.

Well, several of the ladies in attendance jumped in to correct her, but that was no matter to me. In my friend’s words I heard echos of the statement my mother had soothed my broken heart with many times throughout childhood: It’ll be better in the morning.

But, but, but … What about don’t let the sun go down on your anger? Well, it’s true that if we get a little crossways with each other during the day, I do my best to work towards reconciliation and restoration as soon as possible. But somehow there have been quite a few occasions where big feelings exploded late in the day, where just before turning in we turned on each other and the combination of one spouse prone to over-emoting and one spouse prone to retreat and cut-off ended in nothing but fireworks. And not the sexy kind, either.

And so in those moments, I remembered my precious friend’s advice. It’s okay. Sleep it off. Get some perspective. Try again when you are feeling fresh and the physical work of sleep has brought healing to your body. As the sun rises and the coffee pours, we look at each other sheepishly over our steaming mugs and find a way to work things out. Rather than forcing the issue when we are tired and just done with it all, we start with new mercies and a renewed heart for unity.

So that’s my confession. I’ve tossed and turned and seethed and glared all under the shadow of the moon. And our marriage is better for it.

Well hello there, 19-year-old self. You really are such a baby, you know. I know you don’t feel that way – in fact you feel quite like an adult, capable of making life-altering decisions, like about who to love and wed. And I know that the starry-eyed feelings you have for this young man are totally real, and totally not only about being starry-eyed. You are ready to make the commitment and join your soul with his for all of eternity. It’s rare to know it so deeply, like a fire in your bones – like a gut-wrenching truth that that disturbs your consciousness and won’t relent ’til you acknowledge it and agree. I know there are doubters (because you’re “so young!”), but I believe you. I really do.

You also believe that you will be head over heels in love for the rest of your life.

Well, I have to say, on that one, you’re wrong.

You won’t be head over heels in love for the rest of your life. Oh sure, lots of days you will be. There will be days filled with pillow fights and flour fights, romantic fancy dinners out and romantic simple dinners in. Cuddling on the couch with cookies fresh from our oven, and oh, the inside jokes! There will be ample dreaming and planning for a future so ripe with possibilities you’re almost afraid it will burst. Teasing, loving, travelling and experiencing the world together. Mushy gushy lovey-dovey love notes and bending over backwards to make the other feel loved and special. Marking special “firsts” and establishing our own family ways. Candle-light and grown-upness, making breakfast together, naked. Learning the ways of loving each other with our bodies, and enjoying the gift of intimacy with one another in soulful passion. Oh yes, there will be times that will be so, so good.

But there will come a day (sooner than you think) that the fairy tale will have to take a backseat to reality, and you will have to know that not every day will be filled with love notes and mushy feelings.

Some days (seasons) you won’t like him.

Eventually you might wonder “how we got here“.

But again, you will believe that your love for him is so strong, so real, and so fiercely chosen, that it can never be obliterated. Dampened, perhaps. Reignitable? Absolutely. Never, ever forget this, dear one. Never EVER give up on love. 

True love is not always pretty.

But it is always fierce and precociously unstoppable.

It is not always fun. It does not always seem like it can survive another lost night of sleep with the teething babe, another misunderstanding piled upon the countless unresolved others, and another day of self-centredness rather than self-sacrifice.

But it can.

And it will.

Because you and him?

You’re the real deal.

Make the choice to love with passion and honesty. Do not falter, do not waver in your commitment to making it work. Make humility, kindness, compassion, and grace your mantras, and you will be on the right track.

It won’t always be easy, but it will always belong to you and him. He will be your beloved, and you will be his, woven throughout the seasons of reality and toughness.

And that, dear young self, is a beautiful thing.

“It’s almost like… anything worth doing in this life is almost impossible to do.” ~Jon Foreman, of Switchfood

{This fabulous guest post is by the very sweet and insightful Nicole of the Gidget Goes Home blog}

I’ve been a wife for eight and a half years now, and mom for four. And yet, just only recently, after becoming a mom of three just over four months ago, did I come to this revelatory conclusion:

As much as I would like to, I can’t meet all the needs of everyone in my family.

Maybe you’ve been there too…

It seems like just when my oldest daughter needs me to help her do a project… my son needs his truck put back together and a book read to him…

And then just when he wakes up from his nap and starts crying in his crib… my baby has just started nursing and my milk has just let down…

And just when I’ve started changing her diaper, my son suddenly is insisting I pick him up with two hands wrapped around my legs and a sweet, “Up, please!” Oh, and Gigi needs to be picked up from preschool–um, now!– and Brody suddenly smells a bit stinky, and now baby Hallee needs to nurse again and oh yeah, my husband’s birthday is in less than a week, and I better “pop dry” that load of clothes sitting in the dryer just one more time, and don’t even get me started on the bathroom floors, and… and…

Whew. I think you get the idea.

Someone in my house always seems to have a need I can’t meet, pretty much from breakfast until bedtime. As the wife and mother, it’s a bit disheartening to be sure.

Can anyone relate?

For me, things are compounded because my younger two are only fourteen months apart. But aside from that fact, the truth is simply that this mothering gig (and trying to meet needs) is hard stuff, because we want to meet their needs. We love them and we want to take care of them. It’s our job for crying out loud.

But we can’t do it all. It’s just not possible.

So I’m learning to prioritize, and asking for grace, and trying to not wish away these crazy days, but instead, to relish in them.

The amazing thing I’m learning as I experience my own inability to do it all though, is God’s amazing ability to indeed do it all. And more.

To meet every need. Every dream. And exceed them all.

In my own humanity, I’m seeing more of His deity. His power. It’s by the power of His grace alone, after all, that I’m able to find joy in the crazy.

When I am weak, He is strong.

And for that, I don’t mind so much that I can’t meet every need.

Now to him who is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think, according to the power at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever. Amen.
~Ephesians 3:20-21

***

Nicole can be found writing at Gidget Goes Home and Simple Organic. She loves to read, sew, make ice cream, take pictures, surf, watch baseball and go for walks by the beach with her hubby and three little kiddos. She loves anything handmade and is passionate about Creation care.

Today’s interview is a total treat for me – I’ve been reading The Gypsy Mama for a while now, and her writing is powerful and evocative, with a strength and truth in it that is rarely expressed so profoundly. I highly recommend subscribing to her blog and hearing her words for yourself. Lisa-Jo was kind enough to answer some questions for me for our 31 Days of Real Housewife Confessions series, so today I share these with you with the hope that these words will encourage you and challenge you.

***

1. How long have you been a housewife? How many kids do you have?

Gosh, thanks so much for including me in your 31 days. I am totally telling Nester about this to prove that even though I didn’t have the courage to write my own 31 days series, at least I made an appearance Ok, so housewife? Well, I work full time from home while wrangling a six-month-old baby and juggling preschool and Kindergarten drop offs and picks up for my two oldest kids, along with their Tae Kwon Do, playdates, and run-of-the-mill meltdowns. So, three kids, one house, lots of laundry, an awesome job and a whole lot of chaos for the last six years. But I’ve been married for 12 years. It just took a while for me to figure out I did, in fact, want to be a mom. And now that I am, I love it and this tiny house that we rent and the family inside that make it home.

2. If I walked in to your house unannounced right now, what would I see?

Oh man, now I wish I’d answered these questions yesterday because yesterday the house was all spruced up for family we have visiting from South Africa. Today? Not so much. Today we’re back to the usual pink stroller in the living room, golden grahams stranded under the dining room table, an assortment of tea cups in the sink and a partially inflated air mattress occupying much of the play room. The baby’s room, however, is still tidy. Whoot whoot – that’s 1 room still on my side. There’s always a computer open somewhere in this house and music playing. And boys in their underroos dancing up a storm.

3. What do you think is at the heart of why so many women feel that they aren’t doing a good enough job of the housework?

Perhaps because it’s never done. You know, just as you get it all cleaned, spic and span through lots of blood, sweat, tears, and time with kids parked in front of Bob the Builder so you can vacuum without anyone under foot, they up and start playing again and you’re back to square one. Housework can feel like the hamster wheel you never get a break from. And no one wants to feel like a hamster. I mean, for one thing, they smell really bad. I wish I’d known that before we agreed to get one for the first time last month. But wait, where was I? Yea, the monotony of housework – it leaves us feeling like the work itself – you know – like dirt and dust and mildew are the defining elements of our day so maybe they define us. But what I’m learning is that those tasks that no one sees us do? Those are the gifts of sacrifice. Those are us climbing onto God’s altar and saying, “here I am – ready again today to die to self and love these others you’ve given me all over again.” It’s not boring then, it’s sanctified. Yup, I think even cleaning toilets is sacrificial work when we’re doing it for the big reasons and not as just another part of our daily routine.

4. What kind of memories do you hope your children have of you while growing up?

Oh I think about this a lot and worry a lot that they’ll remember me yelling and rushing and frustrated at them. I pray instead that the great moments, the slow moments of sitting with them as they play with trucks in a tray of flour (that I just know will spill all over the place again) or wrestle with them or show them how well I know their tickle spots, or tell them long and convoluted tales of South Africa will be the joy that imprints on their memories. I want to be the mom they knew loved them, celebrated them, and took great joy in them. I want them to remember how much we danced in the rain. That mud and wet and messy were never more important than joy and laughter and being together to celebrate God’s down pour of blessing in our lives.

5. What do you do really well in your homemaking?

Yikes, making the bed? I’m also really good at a super fast cleaning the kitchen.

6. What do you want to build on and learn to do better?

Cooking. Sigh. I wish I were a better cook or that cooking interested me more. It. Does. Not. And keeping up with the laundry – I don’t know that I’ll ever win that battle.

7. How was your marriage affected from having kids?

Yowza – in so many ways. It showed us both how selfish we were for one thing And started the long, holy process of breaking us of the habit of self first. That’s a good thing for any marriage. It also etched deep into our hearts a layer of love that we’d never really understood before. A layer of living at a place where you can understand for the first time why Jesus might have died for you, because you would die for your own kids in a heart beat.

8. What might people be surprised to know about you as a housewife?

That there are many things I just don’t care about – it matters little to me how the kitchen is organized or if all the laundry is put away. I like pictures of pretty mantels and rugs placed just so in a house, but at the moment I don’t have the time or energy to care about making ours look like that. That I’d always choose time with kids over time cleaning. That I’ve given up wanting to live in a museum tidy house over wanting to live in a lived in one.

9. If you could have coffee with any mother in history, who would it be?

My own. She died a week after I turned 18. I would give a lot for one heart to heart with her now – mother to mother. So many questions. So much I would love to learn from, and share with, her.

***

I am totally loving hearing other women share their hearts and perspectives here via interview, and I hope you are too. Please, choose your favourite question, and share your answer with me. I’d love to hear your heart!

So, on Thursday night I went to a girls’ night. Brownies, nachos, birthing stories (of course, haha!), etc. It was fabulous. Just what I needed.

You see, lately I’d been feeling a little bit lonely. I know, I know, Jesus is the best friend I could have… etc. etc. But to be honest, Jesus can’t sit and eat brownies with me and swap birth stories. He just can’t, for obvious reasons. See, I think that we were created to need each other. We as human beings are meant to be in relationship with each other.

My personality is such that I enjoy having a small group of deep friendships. Being involved in each other’s lives, kinda like family. That’s what I had back in Toronto, and that’s what I have been sorely lacking this past (almost!) two years since moving out west. I have gotten to know some really great women here, but have at times felt lonely nonetheless. Not really knowing my place, my tribe. I wonder does every woman feel this way to some degree? Those around me usually seem so comfortable and content, not lonely at all. They don’t seem to have trouble finding their place – whether it’s because they are one of those popular-everyone-likes-them types, or because they’ve lived around here forever and know everyone, or whatever. {The hard part about admitting all this is feeling like it makes me sound like a total loser so no one is going to want to be my friend after reading it.}

I wish we could all just share our hearts and our lives with each other… but alas, that’s not normal. So instead we’ll stick to chatting about the weather, our cloth diapering system, the best gluten-free recipe as of late, and some fall decorating tips and activities. If we’re lucky, we’ll share ideas for how to turn a bucket, a string, and a rubber band into an awesome DIY handmade gift, pinterest-style. But we won’t share our hearts, oh no, because that’s a dangerous thing.

And we women? We like to play it safe. Right?

Wrong. Some of us are actually just dying for a little raw honesty. A little solidarity, and a safe place to share. A place where we can be brave enough to cry without fear of judgement, with those who will promise to pray, then actually do it, and shoot you an email in the next day or two to see how it’s going. Is that too much to ask?

I suppose it is.

So today I ate the last of the brownies for breakfast. There’s my confession for today: I ate brownies for breakfast. Made with white flour, sugar, and a cup of butter (the only healthy ingredient).

The best part about the brownies though, was sharing them with friends on Thursday night.

I recently had the awesome opportunity to interview Amber Dusick, the genius comedienne behind the virally popular blog Parenting. Illustrated with Crappy Pictures. If you’ve never before seen one of her cartoons (and they truly are crappy pictures of the funniest kind), then you are seriously missing out. My favourites are What it is Like to Change Diapers, What it is Like to Eat in a Nice Restaurant, A Real House Tour, and Maximum Cuteness (or, Tiny Little Manipulators). OK, I have about a dozen favourites, but I restrained myself. You should just subscribe to her blog to save me some typing.

So, I emailed her and asked if she would oblige us with an interview for our 31 Days of Real Housewife Confessions series… and she said sure! Sit back, and enjoy…

***

R&H: How long have you been a housewife? How many kids do you have?

AD: Am I a housewife? That term makes me feel icky. I’d even pick “homemaker” over it because at least that sounds like you make stuff. I just looked it up. Seriously, I googled it:

housewife Noun /”hous wif”/

1. A married woman whose main occupation is caring for her family, managing household affairs and doing housework.

2. A small case for needles, thread and other small sewing items.

So I’m pretty sure we’re talking about #1 here, although I do sometimes carry a sewing kit. I am married. My family is my priority, regardless of my career or the amount that I contribute to the household income. I also manage some household stuff and I attempt housework when we can no longer see the floor.

Wow. Yeah. I guess it is true. I am a housewife, hear me roar!  I’ve been one for five years, when my first was born.  I have two children, ages five and two.

R&H: What did you “know” before becoming a parent?

I knew absolutely everything about being a parent!  I was an amazing parent before I had kids.  I knew that I would never bribe my children. Especially not with sweets. I knew that I would never say the things that my own mother said like, “Don’t stand with the refrigerator door open!” I knew that I would be able to explain things to them using logic and they would understand. I knew that I would follow x,y,z parenting methods and they would work for any children I had. I knew that I would do art and crafts with them all day and play alongside them and it would be nothing but fun 100% of the time. My knowledge wasn’t entirely accurate.

R&H: What do you know now?

I know that nobody knows what they are doing all of the time. We all have our ups and downs. Times that we feel like horrible mothers. Parenting is unpredictable. It is a constantly evolving relationship, like a kaleidoscope. It never looks the same. But if at the center is love and respect then the rest will look beautiful. And it is different for every family and every child within that family. I don’t think there are “one size fits all” parenting methods.

R&H: What might people be surprised to know about you as a housewife?

I’m incredibly career motivated which sounds like a contradiction to the whole housewife gig, doesn’t it?  I want both. Yes, I too am grasping for the holy grail of career and parenting balance. Mainly, I wish there were two of me. Or I wish I didn’t need any sleep at all. That would fix it. I’m unwilling to let go of caring for my children for a career, even though at times I really want to. This is a choice I struggle with.

R&H: Are you ever tempted to compare yourself to other moms?

I wouldn’t say I’m tempted to compare myself to other moms. Nah. I just go ahead and do it. Come on, I’m not the only one eyeing the totally put together mom in Trader Joe’s with the spotless and well-behaved children and wondering what her real story is, right?  It is at times when I feel unsure about my parenting choices (when the kids are acting like maniacs) that I do this most. On a good day I’ll see perfect mom at the market and think “Ooh, she has pretty shoes on!” while on a rough day I’ll see her and think “Why do I suck so much?” It is ridiculous. I try not to take myself too seriously.

R&H: What do you do really well in your parenting?

Adapt. Change. I try really hard to be flexible. To accept that something that works well one day won’t work the next day. Otherwise I’d go seriously crazy. I also use humor to keep myself from imploding with frustration. Sometimes the only thing left to do is laugh.

R&H: In which area do you most want to see growth regarding your parenting?

Finding ways to bring out the best in them. Finding ways to help them blossom into more of who they already are. Sometimes it feels like I’m stomping on them, like I’m doing and saying all the wrong things. Ugh, that is the worst feeling ever as a parent. I want them to be comfortable and confident being themselves. I don’t ever want to pull them down.

R&H: What is the biggest hindrance to mothers in our culture?

This question is so totally unfair because I really don’t have time to write a book right now.  Do I talk about working mothers who are forever walking the tightrope of staying on top of their career and being there for their children?  Do I talk about the dominating influence of corporations and media? Do I talk about maternity leave? Do I talk about healthcare? Education? Lead paint in toys and food? Mom jeans and muffin tops?

I wrote and deleted my answer a billion times. I even asked a friend from MomsRising http://www.momsrising.org/ what her answer would be because she is way more qualified to answer this than I am.

I think if I had to answer in just one sentence I’d say that mothers are not supported or even appreciated in our culture. And that just sucks.

***

Our undying appreciation to Amber for gracing us with her presence via interview this lovely fall Saturday. Thanks a million! Now, since you were probably all nodding along in agreement and/or laughing in understanding, I wanna know your story.

Pick your favourite question(s) and tell me your answers!