Eclectic Muddlehood

Join me as I muddle through being a wife, a mother and a woman… among other things

Overheard on the Playground

April22

An amused gentleman assisting his adorable toddler daughter up the jungle gym to the slide at the same playground we were enjoying overheard the following conversation today:

KINDY GIRL: Mama, I cannot go down this slide right now.  There are insects on it.

CRUNCHY MAMA: Hon, it’s alright.  You are much bigger than they are and they will probably fly away when they see you coming because they don’t want to get squashed.

KINDY GIRL: I know that, but their butts are stuck together making babies right now and I just don’t think I should disturb them. 

A Cute Quiz From A Fellow Blogger

April21

I followed a link from Wendy’s Well Mannered Frivolity to this garden related blog and found a totally amusing quiz.  Here are my results.

I am a
Snapdragon


What Flower
Are You?

I have to say that I laughed out loud when the results popped up on my screen.  Of course were the words that flashed in my mind.  I should have known!

Of Tribes & Labels: A Spiritual Quest for Unity

April20

I recently read an eloquent plea on an international discussion board for unity among modern mothers.  The board’s user agreement does not allow me to link or quote from the thread on which one woman bravely issued her clarion call, but I will try to give everyone the gist of her message and share my multi-faceted reaction to her words. 

First, a bit of background for those not familiar with this incident in this specific corner of cyberspace.  This particular online community is a base for mothers (and some fathers) who choose many different paths along their parenting journey that are not always considered socially acceptable among the bulk of our modern culture.  Many of the members follow some of these paths to extremely different degrees and there have been countless conflicts that have emerged on the board in all different forums as those extremes have clashed with one another. 

This mother was responding to these often brutal and divisive occurences.  She asks all mothers to examine what we, ourselves, have done to motherhood.  And she asks for a little perspective.  As the very nature of community has shifted dramatically away from the idea of smaller units of multi-generational neighbors supporting each other through the various trials of life, we have begun seeking community and connection along other lines.  This seems only natural to me as humans are social creatures by nature.  But, as she points out, it is how we have drawn the lines that now causes so much unnecessary and judgmental strife.  We have created tight knit tribes of mothers who think, act and make the same choices we do about our children.  Even worse, within these tribes, she says we are guilty of betrayal of our fellow mothers.  We criticize, insult and judge our sisters in motherhood, refusing to acknowledge our most sacred of common ground– our beloved children.  She reminds us that there are bad mothers out there.  Mothers who abuse their children violently or allow such abuse to happen.  Mothers who beat, starve, neglect and exploit the precious offspring the Divine has charged them with, truly betraying their sacred responsibilities as mothers, for their own selfish or evil reasons.  But most of us are not bad mothers.  Most of our neighbors are not bad mothers.  And, she pleads, we must stop treating each other as if we were based solely on the fact that we travel different, but parallel paths on this blessed journey. 

I have been turning her message over and over in the fire of my mind since I first read it, slowly melting it into my spirit and remolding it into some sort of response I can make sense of for myself.   I have absolutely entrenched myself in a community of mothers who make similar decisions such as choosing to birth without pain medication and possibly without a hospital, choosing to breastfeed for at least the first twelve months of life and possibly much longer, choosing not to spank, choosing to home educate, choosing not to vaccinate, choosing to seek out whole, organic food options and so on and so forth.  I actively advocate for these choices because I believe in them deeply and believe more families would benefit greatly from making the same choices.  I have a difficult time cultivating quality relationships with mothers who do not make similar choices for their families.  And as much as I would like to think I don’t, I have certainly been guilty of judging my fellow mother for making different choices on occasion.  But how to walk the line?  How do I continue to live my truth and advocate for what I believe are the best options for the health and welfare of today’s children, yet at the same time support all of my fellow good mothers in our journey together?  Is it possible for me to do both?  Can I say to another woman “You are a good mother and I lovingly support you in your motherhood, however I still do not believe it is right for you to give your child that chicken pox vaccine.”  How would that sort of statement be received?  Could my “crunchy-mama-still-nursing-our-two-year-olds” tribe and the “career-women-have-a-great-nanny” tribe get together, smoke the Peace Pipe of Motherhood, revel in our common joys and trials and congratulate each other on being good mothers without judgment or strife?  Could some of us even possibly walk away friends?  I would like to dream that this is possible, but I harbor reservations about the reality of manifesting that dream. 

One of the largest contributing factors to the divisions between mothers is our almost compulsive drive to label.  And when I say label, I mean both ourselves and each other.  I tried to think of all the labels I have pasted myself with over the past five years.  Homebirther.  Attachment Parent.  Extended Nurser.  Here’s a doozy for you: Relaxed Eclectic Classical Homeschooler.  My father might add: Semi-Wacko Liberal.  Even my Blogosphere name, Crunchy Mama, is a label of sorts.  Plus whatever labels I may have been gifted with by others.  I make it difficult for another mother with different labels to reach across and make a connection with me for four interrelated reasons; my perception of her self-applied labels, her perception of my self-applied labels, my perception of her perception and hers of mine.  That four layers of crap to cut through before we could even hope to connect with each other and discover the joys we might bring each other in the fellowship of motherhood.  Now, I even find myself struggling not to label my children.  Gifted Accelerated Learner.  The Twins.  The Princess.  The Sensitive One.  It is practically an addiction. 

If there is any chance for successful connections to be made between tribes of modern good mothers, I believe the first step must be to peel back the individual labels until only one remains.  The sacred label of motherhood.  Only then can many tribes exist in harmony as one as we move along parallel paths.  This will not be easy work for any of us.  It will be tiring and messy.  Sometimes we will peel back what we thought was the last layer, only to discover yet another has been pasted in place by ourselves or others. It might take a lifetime.  But the urgency and desperation in this one mother’s plea makes me feel that she has charged all mothers with a spiritual quest for unity.  And I, for one, for teh sake of my daughters, will attempt to the best of my ability to answer her call.  You may make very different choices as to the method by which you practice good mothering than I have, but I will do my best to respect the undeniable truth that though our methods may be completely different, we both take our sacred responsibility seriously and our love for our unbelievably precious children unites us both in the bonds of sisterhood for all time.  I invite you to reach out and connect with me, your fellow mother, and others who are proud to call themselves members of the oldest tribe.

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Manifestations of Biodiversity

April12

As I wedge my index finger between Master F’s stubborn jaws to pry a gray green cough drop out from between his teeth, I marvel at the wonder of it all.  The Master and Mistress of Destruction provide me with daily reminders of the amazing nature of biodiversity.  The entire Triad of Chaos emerged powerfully and wonderfully from the same gene pool; namely the Big-Crunchy-Daddy-Mama pool.  Yet the difference between the monumental parenting hurdles the Master and Mistress present me with today and the piddly (in comparison) parenting hopscotches Kindy Girl ran me through a few years ago at the same age are often times staggering.  Kindy Girl was still an energetic toddler, by all means, but her explorations were more within specific fields.  The Master and Mistress know no limits when it comes to their own personal brand of chicanery.  While Kindy Girl would venture to discover new and facinating uses for her toys or strive to help me accomplish simple tasks, they want very little to do with any object that could even remotely be considered a toy.  Instead, they seem hell bent on getting their little hands on and decoding various uses of as many real, purposeful, everyday objects as possible.  Build with blocks?  Pooh.  Not when one can build with video cassettes and Crunchy Mama’s knitting needles.  Wrap oneself in various assortments of dress up apparel?  Pish.  Not when one can wear the box Big Daddy’s resumes were in and wrap oneself with packing tape.  How all three of these children sprang from them same basic ingredients is beyond me.  I would attempt to spend a bit more time trying to blog out a rational explanation, but they just tipped the cat box over again and are attempting to create litter castles with its contents.  I supose it would help if I spent more time chasing them around and less time blogging, but then where would my sanity be?

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