Join the Ranks!

Thank you to everyone who signed up on the new Readers’ Blogs page, I see many of you are still missing though. There is a lot of clicking going on, so if you want some keen Apron Stringzy new readers, do take a minute to leave your URL and a good description of your blog.

Non-bloggers, don’t leave yet!

As you know, we will be moving in little more than a month. I will be starting the whole crazymaking business of full scale packing in two weeks, and my writing likely won’t resume until at least mid-June. That adds up to two pretty quiet months here on the ole blog, and I thought I’d offer up the otherwise empty space to guest posts!

If you are already a blogger in your own space, you could either write fresh material just for us or I could re-post one of your old favorites. If you aren’t a blogger, all the better because I know you got somethin’ to say, sister! Crack her open!

You know I cover a pretty broad range of subjects here– the usual gardening, cooking, punk housewifery and parenting as well as more esoteric pontifications on the nature of our chosen path and the commonality of our deepest psychological workings. Basically, almost anything goes. Mamas like me would be wonderful, but divergent viewpoints are particularly welcome. Papas! Grandmas! Kids (ie: people under 30)! Anyone invited and everyone welcome. You can write how-tos, recipes, personal stories, manifestos, pretty pictures, psychological delving, smart-ass sarcasm… I will publish almost any post you send me unless it’s flagrant advertisement or downright offensive.

If you would like to join the fun, leave a comment here and I will email you. If you would like to offer an already written post, you can just send it straight to me, otherwise I will schedule you in and give you a deadline, to keep things on track. It would be cool to have at least one guest post a week during my absence, which would only take 8 submissions all together.

Imagine the fame! You too could guest star at the internationally renowned (err, internationally read) Apron Stringz blog! It’s your moment!

Screen Time for Ludites

You may have noticed I’ve been posting quite a lot lately, especially considering my ages ago decision to write only on Saturdays. Slowly, over the almost year since that cleansing fast, I’ve crawled back off the wagon into the deliciously wicked addiction of The Blogger. Oh, but isn’t it glorious down here in the dirt!

I have lately given myself reprieve though. After many months of fighting, not just the writing addiction, but also what I can only describe as an addiction to myself, I have given in. I survived a year of incredibly intense mothering, the lips above water kind. Now, things have evened out a bit. My job is still crazy hard, don’t get me wrong. But I am not losing my mind. My Man can sometimes look me in the eye when he gets home from work and still want to ask how my day was.

And as life has become more possible, survival more definite, I have found myself sometimes becoming bored. The typical desperate housewife syndrome I guess. Where is the me outside of the mother? What do I have to show for myself? Where is the space that is mine? All the same regular bullshit.

What of my grand epiphanies? My submission to the noble cause of motherhood, my neo-feminist punk housewifery? Wendell Berry’s pride of home economics; frugality and responsible action and the independent spirit; the garden, the kitchen, the homemade laundry soap? Kids swirling in my undertow, me the brave heroine, brandishing my homegrown parsley.

Despite all that very good stuff, I’m bored.

Fuck. I hate it when I find I am suffering from the same pedestrian maladies as the general population, which I apparently thought I was better than. But there it is.

I am not in my homeplace. In case you are new here, we are in New Orleans for My Man to go to school. Next year we’ll return to Alaska, our little blip of a town in the enormous maw of coastal wilderness. There I have much more to do, much more to focus on, much more that belongs to me. It is my element, the life I spent the other 32 of my years learning how to live. I wouldn’t say that I’ve been desperately homesick, in fact I’ve just recently started to feel homesick at all. This move has been wonderful in many ways and if life were rewound, I would choose it again unhesitantly.

But considering this is a time in life when women are classically groping for what of themselves is left after the tsunami of small children, being out of my homeplace is a bit extra extra.

I realized recently that, for better or for worse, writing has stepped into that place for me. Given me a thing to do that is mine own, and it’s no wonder I find it devilishly addictive.

I am a person who needs an all encompassing project, a kernal to fold my life around. I am happiest in the midst of an Obsession. And mothering… It’s all encompassing for certain, and my life is quite origami-ed around it. But it’s not like it’s my project. The work is very challenging on all levels, but the outcome does not belong to me.

I think that’s what we need as mamas, an outcome we can own. Maybe it’s self-indulgent. Maybe we would be better spending that time meditating, releasing our grip on ego, submitting to the universe. Not to belittle spiritual practice, but friends, if I couldn’t meditate in my 20s– alone in the woods— that shit just ain’t gonna happen with two kids under 5.

So. Outcome it is.

And with that in mind, I have lately given myself permission to write more.

Accepting that my obsessive alone habit involves staring at a computer screen has been hard enough. I spent the majority of my 20s living without electricity, quite passionately in fact. I am a Ludite by nature, skeptical of anything with a cord or battery pack, but especially scorning of what I consider The Era of the iBrain.

But if that’s hard to answer to, here’s the next question. Where do you think a mama of two littles can find the many hours required to indulge in an outcome based activity such as blogging? Some mornings I get 30 minutes or more in the wee hours to glom my face onto a screen, all alone in a quiet room. But other than that, I have to steal my time from my 4yo’s brain, by plugging her into her very own screen during the Babe’s nap.

Just typing that out hurt. Because unlike the more reasonable opinion of most parents, I do think that any little bit of screen time, on a regular basis, is bad for developing brains. I never, ever thought I would have kids who watched tv. I mean, we don’t actually have tv, we have dvds, so that cuts out my biggest beef– commercials. And of course I try to cherry pick from the enormous onslaught of hideously bad children’s programing. But, that still adds up to my daughter’s face slack jawed in front of a glowing screen.

For… (deep breath)… an average of… (deep breath)… 1.5 hours per day.

Wow, is that hard to admit.

I spent a long time fighting it. Really I’ve been fighting from the beginning– when I was 6 months pregnant, packing up our entire house for a move across country, and my MIL sent some childrens’ books on dvd which I found would hold the (no longer napping) 2yo in one place long enough that I could slide my eyes closed for 15 or 20 minutes. I fought it, but then– I did it. So, not a very strong fight I guess. The fight was all in my own heart, and has continued to wage right there. Her mid-day dvd watching became a daily thing and over time an almost unshakable habit, my internal wars notwithstanding.

What is the difference between submission and giving in? How do you know when to fight and when to let go?

This parenting job is tough, and I don’t believe our world is set up to support us right now. I want to choose some moral high ground, to make The Right Decision for my kids. I want to practice no compromise ethics. But this is not a single variable equation. If my girl stares at a screen for 1.5 hours of her day and has a happier mama for it, where is the moral high ground?

I am rolling over that old submission a lot lately, like a pea under my mattress. Sometimes I feel like I tried and failed to submit to motherhood. But really what happened is that I did it, and it really helped for some time, my hardest time. Now I have moved on, we are in a new phase. My job as mother is (perhaps imperceptibly) loosening, and I am looking around, taking a breath. There is a little space for me now, not much, and I can’t help but want to run in there and muscle it open. It’s intoxicating, and confusing.

If I were a better mother, perhaps I would take this opportunity to ween my 4yo off of the afternoon movie. We could spend that time on the floor inventing elaborate pretend play, and she would lap it up like a puppy. I wish I were that mother sometimes, that I could annihilate my ego, truly and absolutely. Become Budhamama.

But here I am, so very human. So very pedestrian. Instead of seeking motherhood nirvana, I think I will leave the housework undone and get in my own 1.5 hours a day.

Here’s to us humans.

A Virtual Garden Party

I’ve been meaning to update the Readers’ Blogs list for ages. I just had an extra half hour, with nothing else in particular to do (!!!) so, I finally got to it.

I like the idea that we all keep up with each other a little bit, in this weird virtual community. Even though I’ve had my issues with computers and their inherent addiction problems, it has sure helped me to find you all and feel like– if not close by then at least somewhere in the Wide, Wide World– there are some folks like me! We gotta stick together y’all!

If you write a blog, please scroll down and see if it’s there in the sidebar. Did I spell your title correctly? Click it to make sure I entered the link right, and please let me know if it doesn’t work. If you don’t see your blog in there with the Readers’ Blogs list, it could be because you haven’t commented recently (I only went back a few months) or worse, haven’t commented at all! Comment you!

Then, let’s all get cozy with some tea and talk shop.


Fear Not, Kind Readers

I got an email from a friend saying, and I’m paraphrasing here, ‘What the hell? Where are you? Why did you suddenly drop of the face of the earth? And, are you okay?’

I’m fine. All good here. My sister is visiting! I was going to post a Blog Recession Warning, but I ran out of time. As you may remember my main and often only chance to write is in the wee AM hours. Which depends on the Babe waking early. And the Toddler not waking early. So if you don’t hear from me, it could either mean I’m going crazy or sleeping late (7 AM). Recently, it’s been the latter (though, some of the former thrown in as well).

This morning when the Babe woke at 5:45, I felt the “ugh,” but also a twinge of happy that I’d probably get some writing in. This blog has finally convinced me that I am a Writer. People had been trying to tell me for years, but I was stubborn. And my realization has not come because I think my writing has improved or even as any reflection at all on my writing. I have come to terms with the fact of myself as a Writer because I have discovered my need to write, to express myself through words. Writing smooths the wrinkles in my brain. It’s my tall drink of water.


So, although I might suffer hiatuses, you will not be losing me. Not so long as I’ve got c.r.a.z.y messing around in my brain, looking for a way out.

And a little postscript for those of you who know me: My sister is the only other person I know who will geek out on my level with costume making, and we are going all out together for Mardi Gras. She brought two huge boxes of costuming supplies, including the hot pink fish nets I will be using in my costume. Last night I started sewing cheap strands of beads onto an old tank top. We spent $25 each on mask making supplies. I’m in heaven.