Doubting Mommy

I can't quite put my finger on it, but ever since having my little honey bee I have been plagued by self doubt. I go through these periods where I lack confidence in my abilities and it really brings me down. I realise this sounds quite depressing but normal human beings can't always be upbeat right? And really there is no need to lie and say I am some perfect mother with a perfect life because if you have read any of my posts you will know that I am anything but perfect. Its like the whole hormonal change that comes with pregnancy, birth, and breastfeeding combined with the lack of sleep plus learning to function on a complete different plane of existence has thrown me out of whack. Before all of this I was so certain in myself, so sure that I was good at what I do. Now I can barely string two sentences together and I am questioning whether or not I am good enough to complete my PhD. I had those fears in the beginning of the programme but I steadily grew in confidence. Now I am back to square one and I feel like have to re-learn everything. I also feel like I don't have an original idea left in my brain. Is this something that other women do? Am I doomed to forever question myself and my abilities? 

A Canary

Sometimes when I look at my little one I struggle to find a characteristic that reflects me. People often comment just how much she looks like her father. Once someone told me, "If she didn't come out of your body I wouldn't think she was yours." How I am supposed to respond to a comment like that... thanks? Yes, she is the "image" of her father. In the early days his family thought there were similarities between her and my father and sister. But since I have spent 41 weeks carrying her around inside me and the last 13 months nurturing her, very lovingly might I add, I want to know that there is something about me in her. I mean isn't this one of the (many) reasons people reproduce? They want a little miniature version running around. I know that sound might sound very selfish but if you had a kid who was nothing like you it would be a little disappointed right? Yesterday my husband was talking to my parents and he said "she definitely has the same temper." Yes! I thought to myself, something that was identifiably ME! Wait, a temper isn't exactly the best quality you want to hand down to your child. But it is undeniable, she does have a very strong temper. Take the remote control away or stop her from doing something annoying/that could potentially cause harm and wow you get it full blast. The Irish have a curious phrase, it's called "having a canary". I've been trying to think what we would call it at home - maybe we would say "having a cow?" - a phrase synonymous with Bart Simpson, but I think we really did say that. I suppose I'd better keep searching for that part of me that is a little bit more flattering to pass on.

The Acrobat

I have discovered that my little cupcake is an acrobat and Houdini all rolled into one. Today she tried to climb on the window sill by standing on the arm of the couch. Shifting the couch 3 feet from the window does not seem to deter her in the slightest. She also managed to escape the straps of her highchair and when I turned around was standing in the seat. She then proceeded to tease Mama by carefully lifting one leg in the air and placing her foot in her food. Needless to say I nearly had a heart attack, but of course that makes her shenanigans all the more delightful to undertake right? The girl is nearly impossible to contain, I practically have to hog tie her to her changing table. I can just imagine her concocting wild plans to escape from the house as a teenager. Oh god, I've given birth to myself.

A Wasted Saturday

Disappointingly I am sitting out in the University coffee shop, frantically downing coffee and trying to write a lecture for Monday. Apparently there was supposed to be strike action on Monday by both staff and students. Convenient for both sides right? This week I happily focused on trying to write my conference paper and when I wanted to avoid it I tried to clean the house. But I was informed on Thursday afternoon that the staff strike had been called off. Thursdays are my last 'working' day of the week. Guess I should have written it instead of wasting my time on the internet all day. Now I am out in attempting to get some 'ideas'. I say ideas in quotation marks because I am sure that I have real ideas but I feel like I need some theoretical ideas. As much as I would love to just talk for an hour about the artist whose work we are discussing, I need theory to back up some of my claims. Incidentally, the student strike has not been called off, meaning that while I have to be prepared to give the lecture, there might not be anyone there to hear it! Meanwhile the little family is off exploring a working farm where you get to pet animals and have picnics. The cousins are over from Spain and cupcake has been having a great time with them. And by great time I mean she absolutely refuses to share toys or her Nana. (What am I chopped liver?) But the worst part is while they are off galavanting in the countryside I am stuck here with that stupid teletubbies song stuck in my head and I can't hear myself think with it in there! Tinky Winky, Dipsy, Lala, Po...

Now entering Phase 2

After consuming massive amount of sage I am happy (?) to report that the production of milk has slowed. I was thinking about how great nursing was for both of us. It was my answer to everything, illness, comfort, sleeping, depression (er... this is me I am talking about here!). But then I starting to think about what comes after nursing? I've decided phase two is the 'mothering' phase. No longer can I rely on the old standby to problem solve, I actually have to take a proactive approach to mothering. And by that I mean aside from lifting up my shirt. On the plus side we did enjoy our first morning cuddle today.

Ode to Cabbage

You expected this to be some kind of pseudo-Irish celebration of the wonderful leafy green didn't you? Just a quick post to say my daughter and my mammaries have parted ways. After returning home from Krakow the little pet didn't even care about them, well that is to say not until 3 in the morning when she awoke, fussed a bit and then tried to pull my cardigan open saying in the sweetest, most precious voice- 'That?" I nearly crumbled but figured we had gone nearly 5 days. By this evening we will be 7 days into the weaning process. I am sitting in my office right now hoping that no one sees me adjusting the cabbage leaves down my bra. Yesterday on the bus I swear girl next to me could smell my sweaty leaves. My doctor laughed hysterically when I took off my bra and asked me if they really work. I think the jury is still out on that one. But at this stage I am doing everything I can - peppermint tea, pain killers, hot compresses...I have, incidentally, consumed nearly half a bottle of dried sage per kellymom.com's advice. Swallowing handfuls of sage with barely any water has been interesting to say the least. Here's hoping mastitis is not in the cards.

Sleep - part two - Revenge of the baby

4.55 am? Piece of Cake! Try 3.50 am. Yes gentle reader you are not imagining that time. 3.50 am is when my darling (teeth gritting) baby woke up this morning. Full of vim and vigour, ready to get up and go. After nursing for an insanely long amount of time that I won't even talk about here, it was my turn to let 'rad dad' have his peace. Cupcake and I headed off downstairs to play her new favourite game, 'feeding'. She first goes to all of the kitchen drawers and then pulls out all of her bowls and cups. Next she reaches for the potato masher, not really sure why, perhaps it is something inherent in the Irish? Then she walks around feeding everyone from either the masher or a spoon. The irony is, she gets very annoyed if you do not 'eat' your dinner. Um, hello? Kettle this is the pot...

World Exclusive - Baby Walks - Mom says best thing since sliced bread!

Extra Extra read all about it! Today in an occurrence so exciting, as in Mom nearly wet her pants, my little sweet potato walked! Ok well she has been taking two steps here and there, sometimes a side step or two in between the ottomans but today it was proper full on walking.  This video is her first time captured on film. After I shot video she walked from the kitchen into the living room, taking approximately 20 steps. It was really amazing. I think the key was that she wasn't paying attention to walking she was pretending to feed me, Oscar and Lulu (our two miniature dachshunds).

In other baby news: How cute are these shoes I got at Penneys? So Punky Brewster meets Rainbow Brite. These strike me as the perfect shoes to be rocking around the house in.

Sleep - is it a myth?

4.55 am. Yes you read correctly - 4.55 AM. That is the time that my sweet, darling daughter decided to wake up. I dragged myself out of bed with new purpose. I would nurse her in her own room and see could I get her back to bed. Usually waving the ol boobies around is enough to get her eyes rolling back in her head for sweet slumber. Unfortunately it was not the case this morning. No matter how long I rocked her, nursed her and rubbed her back, she just would not close those sparkling blue eyes. She even tried to put her foot in my mouth. I just can't fathom how someone so little can have so much energy. I let 'rad dad' (that's what he wants me to tell you we call him - correction what he has named himself) get up with her at 6 and take her downstairs for some 'daddy/daughter' time, while I had a nice lie in until 8. Gone are the days of my wild youth, where I partied until 4.55am. Now I gladly will go to bed at 10 if I can even keep my eyes open that late.

Questioning our perceptions about the body

Not sure how I missed this but a relative of mine Seonaid Dunne recently had an article in the Irish Times on the controversy surrounding a forum post about Blue Peter presenter Cerrie Burnell. Seonaid's article challenges people to step outside their comfort zone. Bodies come in all different colours, shapes, sizes and abilities. It is important for us to examine what is it about difference that makes us so uncomfortable. It is only through questioning our own perceptions of the body that we may understand how and why we relate to others. Difference shouldn't be something we fear, it is something that we should learn from and celebrate. 

Mini me has the mini measles

My little one had her MMR vaccination 10 days ago. Last night I noticed a rash on her torso. At first I thought maybe it was due to the one strawberry she consumed during dinner. But then I figured no it couldn't be, an allergic reaction is more like hives. Then today I inspected it again and it is all over her front and back. Does the miserable cycle of cold -runny nose-ear infection-vomit never end? I know she feels miserable and she hates getting her nose wiped. I feel terrible because I know there is nothing I can do but comfort her. But secretly I feel even worse because sometimes I get so frustrated with everything. When I started off working on my PhD I was totally convinced that I could have a baby and complete my research. I poured over  Mommy/PhD blogs, I was obsessed with the 'Do Babies Matter?' report completed by Mary Ann Mason of UC Berkeley. I work well in the face of opposition and I was determined to beat the odds. Nothing could prepare me for this. I am constantly torn between my mothering role and my research. I am so frustrated that I can't adequately balance both. To top it up after returning from my maternity leave I have totally restructured my research. This means that I have to spend more time getting myself up to speed. When mini me get the mini measles and feels miserable it makes mommy feel like she can't manage this balancing act. Why can't I just have the perfect career and the perfect family life at the same time? If we really have gender equality and the contemporary woman 'doesn't need feminism' how come there isn't a man writing a blog post about this?

Second Thoughts?

I am feeling pretty low right now. Like I have said previously I am considering weaning. In this situation the internet is either my best friend or my biggest foe. First I decided to visit my breastfeeding discussion board. Of course I love offering my opinion on anything and everything. Then I realised that I might not be able to read the discussion board after I wean. I think it might be too difficult for me to read about moms breastfeeding and loving it without being able to feed my baby. To take my mind off this I googled weaning. Well that was a big mistake. I came across a post from a mother who recently weaned a two year old. She described intense feelings of depression, anger and unexplainable sadness. I cried my eyes out when reading this. Of course this leads me to the natural conclusion that I am not ready. 

A Mother's Love

I'll admit it, yes there are times when I get incredibly frustrated with 'mothering'. I am not a natural. I am someone who really has to work at it. I think this whole experience has been a journey of ups and downs and I am learning as go. Today my little darling seemed, well, a little 'off'. She had a unusually long nap and when she awoke didn't seem hungry for the lunch she had missed. She had eaten a banana before the nap so I wasn't too worried and I figured she would let me know when it was time to fill her belly again. Alas, this was not to be. While chatting to my parents on our weekly skype session cupcake hunched over in my lap and retched her guts up into my hand. In fact she did it three times. Three times into my cupped open hands we relived that banana over and over again. Usually when I see vomit, I vomit. Call it a gut reaction. I think it has to do with the abject - that thing we find so disgusting, so foreign, we feel like we must also expel it from our bodies. To my credit, I didn't even shudder as it trickled its way down the sleeve of my sweater. I just held my little darling tight until she was finished. I guess there are times when I don't have a moment to think what 'does a good mother do'? Sometimes I just know.

Familial Connections

Family has always been the most important thing in my life. When I was growing up I spent hours upon hours analyzing everything about my family. I set about learning as much as I could about where we came from, what the realities of their lives were and trying to memorize stories I felt had relevance to pass along to future generations. I've even done the whole genealogy thing and managed to trace my maternal side back to the US during the time of the Colonies. I was fortunate to have 2 great grandparents who I have early memories of and 3 grandparents who lived into their mid to late 80s (with one still going strong). Now that I have a child I have all of this information I am simply bursting to pass on to her in the hopes that one day she will be as enthusiastic as I am about our history. 

But for now I have to content myself with watching her grow into her own little person. However this doesn't stop me from attempting to make connections with those that have gone before us. Take for example her temper. Generally she is a good natured child, very content to play with her toys and pet her dogs. Occasionally, I might do something she doesn't like, such as wash her face or wipe her nose. From nowhere this incredible hulk-like temper rears its ugly head and I think that is definitely the 'Marcelina hot-blooded Italian'. 

Yesterday when I picked her up from the creche I asked if she ate all her dinner. They emphatically said YES. I was curious as they always tell me that she is such a good eater. She is hit or miss for me. Recently I have had to cover her vegetables in my speciality cheese sauce (grated cheese, milk and a bit of flour). I asked them to explain exactly what she ate because there are times when she simply turns her nose up at her dinner. They said that she had her usual snack, lunch and afternoon sandwich and custard. But wait, they forgot about her second lunch. Second lunch? Yes, we always go around to see does anyone want another helping. Turns out my little darling always has two lunches. I chuckled to myself on the way home. Her father is definitely the hungriest person I have ever met, so no surprise there. But there is another connection I remembered, my grandfather was also a bottomless pit and extremely thrifty. When my dad was a kid the family would go to those all you can eat buffets. To get his money's worth he would advise his 4 children to avoid all carbohydrates and go straight for the meat. He also never ordered ice in a soda because he felt like it took up too much room in the cup. So in a way my daughter is channeling her great-grandfather's spirit and making sure that we get our money's worth from the creche.

Portrait of the artist as a nursing mother?

Oh great! I have just realised that if I plan on weaning I have to get back to my art making, and fast! You see, I had previously worked on a series of paintings that related to the experience of pregnancy. In August 2008 I participated in 'A Womb of One's Own' an exhibition that was part of the Le Cheile Festival in Oldcastle, Co. Meath. 

1. Artist and Daughter at exhibition (before I lost baby weight!) 2. Daughter and Aunt with erie hanging wombs.

I have always wanted to dabble in performance/video/installation (convenient since I am researching in that area right? I believe in cross fertilization - no pun intended) I definitely want to documenting the breastfeeding experience in some way. Now if I am planning to wean cupcake, we have limited time to get photographing. The trouble is I am not really sure exactly what I have in mind but I would like to do it when she is relaxed (i.e. sleepy) rather than when she is acting like the suckling acrobat.

The End of an Era

My 30th birthday will quickly be arriving at the end of the month. Hard to believe, seeing as how the other day someone guessed I couldn't be older than 19-20. Hmmm, I think not, but thanks for the compliment? We are sojourning to Krakow, home of my ancestors. I am very excited but feeling a little sad. You see cupcake will be staying behind at her Nana's house. Yes I will miss her but even more than the physical distance, this trip marks a change in the air for us. 

I am thinking about weaning. I have actually been thinking about it for the last two months. But I have never been able to make a decision. Every time I think about it I feel like I am depriving her, or myself, or both of us. But then every morning my little cupcake awakes at 5 and I indulge her in her ONE HOUR feeding frenzy which includes nursing upside down and switching rapidly from side to side like a kid in a candy store. Throw in a bit of biting (this morning she actually laughed when I gasped - oh so now mommy's pain is funny?) God help me if I try to pull my shirt down or cover myself. She beats her little palms against my chest and sometimes kicks me if Daddy tries to pull her away. I am guilty, I have done nothing to stop this behavior, nothing at all. I just cannot bring myself to get out of bed and greet the day at 5 am. I would sleep until 12 if I could.

Going to Krakow seems like the perfect opportunity to go cold turkey. I will be away for 4 morning nursing sessions and lets face it, the morning time session is going to be the hardest right? I think I am going to do it. Yes I am going to do it. Why then do I feel so sad? We have gone  13 months - wow 13 whole months and we have had our ups and downs. But I have loved every minute of it.

Psychoanalyst Melanie Klein and my breastfed baby...

Yesterday I was in the library looking up some information on memory for a paper I am writing. I picked up an edited collection of Melanie Klein's work and was struck by what I read.  In Notes on Some Schizoid Mechanisms (1946) she hypothesizes about object relations, "the first object being the mother's breast which to the child becomes split into a good (gratifying) and bad (frustrating) breast; this splitting results in a severance of love and hate."(Mitchell 1991: 176) She goes on to discuss how this relates splitting of the ego which occurs through projection and introjection. Without getting bogged down into all the psychoanalytic mumbo jumbo Klein looks at the infant's oral libido and how it has aggressive impulses and connects this back to the relationship with the breast. This caused me to remember a video that I took of my little cupcake when she was messing around with an old plastic nipple she found in a drawer. For your viewing pleasure I have added a video to illustrate. Note how she occasionally pauses to clench the nipple in her teeth. Perhaps this is what Klein was talking about? :) 

 

A Forgetful Mommy

This morning my little cupcake had a shower and I got her dress and ready to going to her nana's house. I handed her to her father who put her in her high chair. She proceeded to devour a whole banana and fistfuls of rice krispies. It would have been kind of cute if the dried rice krispies weren't sticking to her snot nose. I picked her up and realised that the seat of her pants was wet. Hmmm I thought to myself - had she dumped a spoonful of milk down there? She is notorious for squishing cheese, veggies and soft fruit in her chair. But something was different. I ran through the possibilities - no it definitely wasn't milk. Then I realised, oh god I forgot to put her diaper on. I even buttoned her little onesie and put her tights on without noticing the absent diaper. I suppose I was too fixated on her not wiping her runny nose on my shoulder. Even now I can see crusted snot on either side. Gross. I won't even tell you about the paint incident yesterday. Let's just say poison control in the US got a very frantic call that involved a baby and some parisian cream water-based paint. When did I transition from super-obsessive to super-lax?

Marcelina's Legacy

I was looking at my daughter this morning and I was thinking how much my grandmother, Marcelina would have loved her. Marcelina was born the fourth of six children to poor Italian immigrants. The early years were tough for her family, my great-grandfather John was a bootlegger in Texas during the prohibition. He would disappear for weeks at a time, leaving her mother Ida to fend for herself. My grandmother remembered one time the FBI searched the house and found his stash. They saw how poor the family was and took pity on Ita telling her next time they would came there would be consequences. The family then moved to San Francisco and then to Burlingame. My great-grandfather opened up the first bar in San Mateo County after the prohibition. He was a bit of a chancer and had some gambling problems. My grandmother had  to bring him home from a poker game one night, where earlier that night he had lost two properties in Hillsborough (now one of the richest suburbs in the Bay Area). She left school at age 15 to work in the family bar. She met my grandfather who was stationed at Fort Point during WWII. It was love at first sight and they were happily married for an amazing 61 years.

Over the years my grandmother honed and perfected her domestic skills. She was the original domestic goddess before Nigella Lawson took her first breath. She was the Martha Stewart of the 50s and 60s. She made all their clothing (adults and children) and when they wore out the clothes she made rag rugs. She was an amazing gardener and as my dad once said she could plant a stick into concrete and under her watchful eye it would turn into something amazing. She made ravioli, spio and crab cioppino like it was going out of style. But most of all she was a wonderful artist.

She specialized in landscape paintings. She and my grandfather spent their lives traveling to all 50 states. Everywhere she went she took pictures of farm houses, New England lighthouses, mountains, deserts and then would return to her studio to paint. I remember as a child, I would beg her to let me into the studio where I would touch (and taste!) the paints, run my hands over her brushes and just marvel at the colours and smells to be found there. We spent a lot of time together and I became obsessed with art. I became aware that my grandmother had real talent, but I could never understand why she didn't go to art school. I asked her one day and she dismissed it saying that she couldn't afford to, she had to leave school at a young age to work and that in those days women didn't have careers as artists. I think that was my first realization of the gender inequalities that exist in the art world. I became determined to learn more and I credit this with one of the main reasons that I decided to pursue degrees in Women's Studies and Art History.  

Before she died I had the privilege to spend 6 weeks taking full time care of my grandparents. We spent those weeks arguing, laughing, cooking and for the first time I really really got to know my grandmother. I mean beyond the familial relationship. I helped to bathe her and dress her. I was there when she unleashed her Italian temper and heated arguments ensued. Before I finished my time with them she gave me a quilt that she had started back in the 50s. It consisted of hexagonal fabric scraps that she had saved from nearly every item of clothing she ever made. She told me she wanted me to finish it and give it to my first child (I wasn't even in a relationship at the time). When I became pregnant I knew that if nothing else during the pregnancy I had to finish the quilt like I promised her. I tried to channel her spirit to guide me. I am fairly crafty (I like to pretend I am) but I never have the patience to see a project through (my achilles heel). I began by embroidering on four rectangular pieces of fabric. Each block came to symbolise something about personal. One features two dachshunds to represent our dogs, Oscar and Lulu. On another I embroidered dancing fruits and veggies (we love food in this family!). The third featured a redwood tree and banana slug to represent California and the fourth featured the words handmade for you by mother. Next I had to shape my grandmother's quilt. It was a 'free form' and I was in a quandary about how to proceed. I decided the easiest way was to make several rectangles that I could then attach to the blocks to form a giant rectangle. I finished the quilt with only a few weeks to go, relieved that I had made good on my promise to her.

When my grandmother died in 2003, I was devastated. I don't think I can accurately describe all that she was to me. By finishing the quilt I had a piece of her that I could pass along to my daughter. So now she has that quilt and Marcelina as her middle name.

Art is the life for me

So last night I attended the much anticipated opening of the James Coleman exhibition taking place at IMMA, RHA and Project Arts Centre. Coleman is arguably one of the most exciting Irish artists to date! His work has been lauded by major critics and art historians everywhere and he definitely has made his way into the canon. There are six of his works currently on exhibition around the city. This is the first large scale exhibition of his work since the early 1980s. Which brings me to the enigma. You see Coleman is a big time artist. So why then isn't his work well known in Ireland? An artist I was speaking to last night said that Coleman was a huge influence on his work. This guy was nearly giddy because he got to meet Coleman. Another strange thing is that Coleman the person isn't well known. I only say this is strange because in the age of art stars like Damien Hirst and Tracey Emin, sometimes artists become almost more important than their work. Or maybe what I mean is that today we are so obsessed with celebrity that it seems strange that there are no pictures of Coleman! Perhaps this is because he really wants the work to speak for itself. And ultimately, his work is about the spectator and the role that one's subjective plays in creating meaning in the work. So perhaps it seems fitting that Coleman the artist prefers to observe rather than be observed.

I was at the lecture given by Luke Gibbons and attended the wine reception. (Glug glug). I got to meet Alanna O'Kelly, a performance/multi media artist. Her work is simply amazing, I am a huge fan. It was really cool to see how approachable and down to earth she is. And finally, yes, finally I was able to recapture my powers of speech and analytical thinking that have gone to the birds since having my little bundle of joy. (Mommies out there will know I mean the dreaded baby brain). Being able to discuss her work with her in a coherent manner was awesome. I also sat next to NI artist Victor Sloan. I couldn't place the name at first, although I had heard of him. When I got home I trolled through some of my books and catalogues. Yep sure enough there he was. His early work deals with images of the troubles and some of them are very haunting. What a great guy he was. We had an excellent conversation and I think he has earned himself a new follower!

Spring is in the Air

Well it is that time of year again. I am feeling inspired to plant. Every year I take a stab at planting my vegetable garden in the back. I don't have a huge back garden but I have been able to successfully grow a variety of fruit and veg, that is as long as the dogs/snails don't get to them first. Last year I had the best intentions and even went so far as to organise my seeds and a tentative planting schedule. But pregnancy, birth and recovery from a c-section got in the way and before I was really ready to get outside and enjoy the sun I didn't make any effort whatsoever. For a couple years now I have had a pretty well established red currant bush, a pear tree and of course the ever present herb garden - mainly consisting of the 'easy' ones - chives, mint, rosemary, parsley, lemon verbena (or lemon balm? I can never remember which one) and thyme. I tend to grow basil on the kitchen windowsill as there isn't great sun in the garden. I also grew coriander a couple years back but I haven't been as devoted to it. In 2007 I branched out, growing salad leaves (so easy and so tasty from the garden), purple sprouting broccoli (39 weeks from seed to harvest - husband ripped them up at 14 weeks thinking they were weeds...) rocket, baby carrots and in our makeshift 'greenhouse' tomatoes and peppers. The tomatoes and peppers were coming along nicely until I went on holidays and then apparently there was a 2 week hot spell. Even though they were being watered with the green house 'door' closed they withered.

I've decided that this year I want to spent a lot of time outside con mi hija and that playing in the dirt with her will be fun. I have always made the effort to grow organically, it is really important to me. I am a big tree hugger at heart and really feel strongly about the environment and preserving it for our future generations. I find organic so expensive here in Ireland, so I am constantly going from Tesco to Dunnes to Superquinn to the Farmers Market in an effort to find the best prices. I have spent the last year making all organic baby food for the little one and it is nice that she is eating more in line with the meals that I am preparing for the adults. I am thinking about trying out some of those potato tubs I saw at Atlantic two weeks ago. I am definitely going ahead with the potatoes, I mean they are like a national institution right? I can't ever be Irish until I grow potatoes right? On a side note someone once told me I could never been considered a Dublin woman until I made a good coddle. Hmmm a big pot of boiled salty meat? Think I'll stay a California girl.

P.S. the picture is not recent. This is what the garden looked like when we first put the sleepers in Fall 2007!

The Courage Campaign vs Prop 8

At the moment, far away in my home state of California a battle for equality rages on. Last November Proposition 8 was passed by the California electorate (Not in my home region of SF though... Represent!) It invalidated thousands of same sex marriages. Today the Supreme Court heard the final closing arguments to overturn Prop "Hate" and restore equality to all of California's citizens. Gays and Lesbians should not be treated as second class citizens, they have the same right to freedom that heterosexuals enjoy. 

Check out this link. This seriously breaks my heart watching this. Why doesn't everyone deserve the same happiness?

http://www.couragecampaign.org/page/s/divorce