AmericanMum

So…I think I have some apologizing to do.

I’m obsessing over some of the things I wrote in my “chicken” post.  It reads as if I don’t love my friends - or that I need everyone to be the same person as me.  Actually, not everyone has to share everything in common with me to be my friend.  I’m realizing that the fact that I might be quite a bit different than some of my friends and they love me anyway is a really big compliment.  This isn’t to say that I shouldn’t seek out friends who I might share commonalities with.  But I shouldn’t stop loving the friends I have, either.

I’ve been bad lately about keeping up with friends.  I’ve avoided spending time with people I love. As it turns out, over the past few weeks/months, that little girl self-loathing voice has gotten bigger and bigger.  I’m spending much too much time checked out of life, parenting with only the least of effort.  I’m spending a lot of time worried about things I’ve said and didn’t say; things I’ve done and didn’t do and wondering if I’ve made the right decisions.  And I’ve come to worry about myself.

I’m in a dark hole, and it’s not the first time this has happened.  Rich and I have counted at least five times that I’ve fell into a hole like this.  Back when I was in the light, I told myself that next time it happened (and I knew enough to say that it would happen again), I would go see someone.  So I did.  I took the little quiz, the doctor added up my numbers, and he said, “Well.  You are DEFINITELY depressed.”  Like I didn’t know that from the way I’ve treated some of the people I love the most.  Depression, as the commercials say, hurts everyone.  And ironically I’ve begun taking the meds that that commercial advertises.  A anti-anxiety pill at night.  Uppers and downers.  I’m not a pill person, but even I can see that something needs to be done.

—

I’ve gone back and forth about blogging about this.  I know a few friends read this and a few family members and I hope they take this at face value only.  I don’t write about this to attention-seek, or to make anyone feel bad or sad or sorry for me.  (And no, the thought of suicide is NOT crossing my mind and it never has or will so don’t everyone all don’t freak on me, okay?)  I blog about it because maybe in my deep dark hole something good can come from me feeling so awful.

I’ve taken the plunge into very serious, literary and world-class blogging (shuddup) and invested my life savings of $9.99 into purchasing the actual AmericanMum.com URL. My apologies to the other AmericanMum (who is quite fabulous and you must check her out).

Step 1: Spend $9.99

Step 2: ?

Step 3: Profit!

Muuuuuahahahaha.

Picture it.  Rich and I waiting for a nail to be taken out of our tire and patched at the local tire shop.  The whole family is in the waiting area.  The kids are happily munching on popcorn (I probably just gave away which tire shop it was, didn’t I).  There are a few other adults in the waiting area, watching television.  On the tube is the fight.  A couple of guys are bludgeoning each other with their boxing gloves.

Siena is dancing, ignorant of the violence on the TV.

Connor is fixated on the boxing match, shouting things like, “Punch him in the face!”

I’m vacilating between trying to explain that fighting is bad while talking to the sport of boxing and how it is just a game but they really do get very hurt - and putting my head in my hands wondering what to say or do.  Do I leave or change the channel?  The last time I tried something like that was when I laid it down on the use of the word “stupidhead” which has now, of course, become Connor’s favorite word.

Rich is laughing at me with his eyes, and with the whole situation.

What would you do?

My husband has made beer for several years now.  I had always been content to watch from the living room while Rich and his brew friends came over and did various mad scientist experiments with grain, water, yeast and hops.  Sure, it made a mess of the kitchen, but anyone who has seen me cook an elaborate meal understands that it’s nothing our “mess hall” is not accustomed to.  Besides, I was always quite appreciative of the results.

A month or so ago, a little thought crept up into my brain.  Why shouldn’t I brew beer?  I like drinking it.  I enjoy cooking.  Am I, the feminist, unconsciously keeping myself from a very enjoyable experience because I think brewing is for boys?

I think back on the last time I entered into a new hobby because of feminism.  When Rich was still the new boyfriend and we were in college, I had decided it would be a great idea for me to go deer hunting with him, solely because “girls can kill stuff too”.  It wasn’t at all that I wanted to shoot a deer.  In fact, I’m sure I would have cried buckets if a bullet from my gun would have made it into any animal.   Luckily, my buying a deer tag and donning the orange vest only resulted in me falling asleep on my eventual-hubby’s arm and creating quite an impressive puddle of drool on it.  “What’s that wet stuff?”  he said when he woke up to my careful wiping of the offending mess.  Dispite all of this (and so, so much more) he still decided he wanted to marry me.  To this day I really don’t understand why, but I am grateful.

Beer brewing, it turns out, is not about trying to prove my worth as a member of the female sex.  It actually was a lot of fun.  Yes, I did choose to start from a packaged malt extract, which is sort of the equivalent of making a cake from the box.  But you have to start somewhere.  Besides, my homemade cakes turn out hard as a rock every time.  And no one wants to drink rock hard beer.

So here’s a photo essay of my first beer attempt.  I’ve filled in a few photos from places elsewhere in the web when things got too crazy to take pics ourselves.  Ben, one of Rich’s brew friends, came over to make a mead, and Rich made an all-grain, extra-hoppy IPA (Imperial Pale Ale).  I brewed a brown ale - in which I’ll finish with a bit of hazelnut and vanilla extract in a couple of weeks to mimic this delightful quaff.  And I did it all without drooling a bit.

Cheers.

Step one: to the local homebrew store!

Connor and Siena grind Rich’s grains at the store, while Ben helps.  Most families take their kids to the farm to churn butter.  We brew.

More grinding.

Now, back home.  First, let’s make a brew tea!  (Steeping the grain)

Let’s add the malt extract.  (”cake batter”.)

Yummmmmm.

Connor is set up with his own brewing stuff, while Siena takes her nap.

Connor the Mad Scientist.

Adding the finishing hops.

Chilling the wort.  (I have no idea who this person is - I’ve shamefully stolen the photo from someone else.)  The cold water that passes through the copper tubing cools the boiling liquid at an amazing speed.

Next we strain the wort into the carboy to get rid of any chunks of hops, children’s toys, or whatever else has found its way into the beer.  (Another stolen pic.)

Finally we get to taste the beer.  It doesn’t have alcohol yet but it still tastes quite good - though pretty sweet.

Let’s pitch the yeast.  This, again, is not my home.  (Our kitchen tile is much worse.)

Lastly, the beer ferments.  (Another stolen pic - our yeasties do their thing in the bottom of the pantry.)

Then we wait a couple of weeks until the yeast eats all the sugar, and we get to drink their excrement!  Delicious.

You might have noticed that I finally took time to clean up my blogroll.  I’ve added a bunch of great new blogs - most of them birth-related although there are a few parenting gigs up there.  The hardest part, of course, of cleaning up a blogroll is taking down the names of great bloggers that you love but haven’t posted in months.  Here I will honor those blogs that I miss dearly.

The Zero Boss - Out of deep respect, I need to start with Mr. Jay Andrew Allen.  The man was a blogging machine - posting probably a good 5 times a day - each with enourmous wit and charm, with a huge helping of intellect thrown in.  He wasn’t one of those touchy-feely-loveable bloggers on first blush, but just underneath all the snark was a very loveable guy.  Zero’s site was the first blog I visited each day (truth be told, the first website I visited each day) and life on the web just isn’t the same without his voice in it.  I miss his insight into religion and sexuality the most.  Now there’s two divergent topics, but the man made it work.  Zero is still alive, he reassured me right before killing his gmail account - and the death of his blog is a very good thing in the midst of the family problems that he alluded to.  I wish you whole again, Zero man.

Catawampus!  - This was Kim Voynar’s personal blog - Zeroboss’s wife.  I can only assume that she killed off her blog for the same personal reasons as Jay.  “Kimi” is a film critic for cinematical.com and is a fantastic writer.  I miss her raw honesty and her spunk - two traits that are not often found in the same persona.  Her last few posts were truly heartwrenching.  Be well, Kim.

CircuitBeta and MyAllusions - these are people I know in real life.  Actually I hardly knew circuitbeta at all - only by association.  Have you ever known that quiet person that occasionally said something extremely witty or meaningful and you wondered what else was up there?  Well CircuitBeta was like getting a glimpse into the mind of that person.  From what I know of him he’s not the type to be so out there with his thoughts and feelings, so I think he hasn’t blogged there any more for feeling a bit exposed.  I hope I wasn’t a part of that exposure - I just really get excited when someone else that lives in the same town as me starts blogging.  It gets pretty lonely here in my corner of Cyberworld.  MyAllusions, on the other hand, still hangs out on my blogroll.  She’s one of my best friends in real life and I just can’t axe her.  Besides, she had a pretty undercover sort of job and blogging was not looked fondly upon.  She’s recently changed companies and I’m really excited for her, and hoping she’ll pick up the proverbial pen soon.  (I’ll give her a month.)

Cloud-Seven-Point-Five - Due to ex-husband privacy issues, she had to kill her blog.  However, she’s a blogger at heart so never fear.  She’s very open with her struggles as a single mother, dating again, living on a small-ish income and finding meaning in art, relationships and work.  Despite all of that, she dregs up her humor and wit daily.  I still get my daily dose of her life elsewhere - hint, hint.

Dispatches from SouthEast Portland - This was my insight into a mind that was clearly very different than mine.  Truly John Goes and his cohort Dan McKinlay were brilliant guys, although we held very divergent political beliefs.  John was suspicious of the environmental agenda, raved about the virtues of smoking, and could possibly called misogynist.  Yet somehow I really enjoyed reading his thoughts - it was like insight into a belief system that I am so opposed - yet I occasionally even found truth there.  I found the blog when it was on the front page of WordPress one day and never stopped reading.  Hope the Windy City is treating you well, John.

Milliner’s Dream - Aside from RedSpiral (who doesn’t blog much about being a doula any more), Hannah’s was the first doula blog I read.  She was so inspiring and some of her better posts helped form my own personal doula philosophy.  She was my mentor in many ways and her words helped me in many times while I was trying to decide what to do exactly with my passion for birth.  In fact, she rescued me once or twice from a blog rut that I didn’t think I could dig myself out of.  I can’t help but worry about Hannah - she hasn’t returned email.  I hope she is alright out there.  If anyone knows anything, I would love to hear, even if it is just to say that she is okay.

The Examining Room of Dr. Charles - I think I might have had a bit of an internet-crush on Dr. Charles.  He truly was a great blogger and well-loved by so many.  (Translation: He wouldn’t know me from Adam.)  It is rare to find such compassion from a male voice and he had such a love for humanity and kindness in his practice that brought me to tears regularly.  (I’m not trying to disclude you mine - you know I love you - you qualify as compassionate — mostly — as well.)

I was moved a few weeks back by the post at Homebirth Diaries about the similarities of sitting with someone during birth and during death while she helped her friend mourn the loss of her husband. Now that I’m being a sort of “death doula” for my own mom’s grief process over the impending death of her sister, it’s got me thinking.  Somehow, for me, knowing that birth and death are so similar is comforting for me.  I don’t know if would be as comforting for everyone or if it is just because I’m a birth doula, but I think the similarities point out the natural circular rhythm of our existence.

Some of my essay below is just reworked ideas of LaborPayne’s above post, but the act of writing this out has helped me.

—

This time is a monumental rite of passage, a sacred event, both for the person and for the family at large. There are many decisions to be made and a plan will be put together. It is a very emotional time, and it follows that there may be disagreements on how to handle both the logistics and the emotions that come with it. At the same time, it can draw families closer together as they never have been while they are most vulnerable and support each other in an unconditionally loving, non-judgmental space.  Healing can happen. Wishes are as unique as the individuals themselves, but respect and love all underly them.Often, there is a natural fear. Everyone involved is transferring from a known place to something entirely unknown and it can be scary. Will it hurt? How will we handle the pain? How will we handle seeing a loved one in pain?  Will it be peaceful? Will wishes be carried out? Or will medical events make it impossible? Will they be okay, in the end?  Knowledge, support, physical touch and a listening ear can help with this fear of the unknown.

When the moment comes, the story will be different for everyone. Sometimes it is loud and messy (both physically and emotionally). Pain is naturally a part of it, but can be managed medically or with natural methods as desired.  Some will fight against it, feeling agitated and restless, and cry out. Others will feel ready, may see peaceful visions and have tender moments with loved ones. Usually there is some of both.

There is often a wish to control an event that is, to great extent, uncontrollable. Medical interventions can prolong or shorten it. In the end, though, our bodies know what to do and it will happen, inevitably, on its own.

This time brings families and loved ones close physically and emotionally - both before, during and after.  There are cultural and social rituals to plan and attend.  Also the emotions of the person(s)  involved must be watched carefully - before to make sure they are being heard and treated with kindness and after to watch for signs of depression that is all too common during this time.

In the end, every story is different and each experience is unique.  It is a natural part of life, and is inevitable.

But how we take the journey does matter.

He then asked Petraeus a pointed question: “Do you feel that [Iraq war] is making America safer”?

Petraeus paused before responding. He then said: “I believe this is indeed the best course of action to achieve our objectives in Iraq.”

That was, of course, a non-answer. And Warner wasn’t going to let the general dodge the bullet. He repeated the question: “Does the [Iraq war] make America safer?”

Petraeus replied, “I don’t know, actually. I have not sat down and sorted in my own mind.”

I heard this little tidbit in the car on the way home yesterday night.  It tells me a couple of things:

1. Petraeus does not make policy; he blindly follows it without question.  He takes orders, like a good soldier.  We should not be looking to him to fix the underlying issues.
2. Petraeus’s objectives that he keeps telling us about - that the “surge is working” - are not based upon the safety of the American people.  What then, possibly, are his objectives?  Victory in the short term, no matter what the cost.
3. At least he answered honestly.

- brisk walking in the mornings with friends.

- preschool pickup and dropoff in the afternoon.

- figuring out how to squeeze in a shower at some point during the day.

- avoiding housework, laundry, grocery shopping and cooking.  Then having to do it in the end after all.

- watching the Cougs play.

- playing with my new Chocolate phone.  A phone and an Ipod in one! Take that Dan.

-  wiping snotty noses, up to and including my own.

- completed reading: Bill Bryson’s I’m a Stranger Here Myself, Birthing from Within, and the Womanly Art of Breastfeeding.

- watching my weeds grow in the garden very closely.  A bumper crop this year.

- attending La Leche League meetings and hosting a local doula support group in my home.

- completed viewing: Hot Fuzz and the Manchurian Candidate (both old and new versions)

- preparing for the probability of my Aunt’s death and the possibility of a last-minute plane ride to Texas to support my mom during the funeral. (brain tumor. given 3-9 months to live. it’s been 8 years. in hospice now and refusing food.)

Real posting will resume shortly.

Someday soon I’ll write another actual post…but for now, I’m just so relieved to see that finally, finally someone is actually taking a stand to take back America.

http://kucinich.house.gov/UploadedFiles/int2.pdf

It is a dark day for those of us that love America.

Today, President Bush, in his infinite wisdom, decided to approve the use of American spy satellites for use on civilians.  And they call the liberals the communists.  Whatever.

Although the party line is that the first use will be to keep our borders under control, a popular soapbox for conservatives, they admit the plans are they will be using them for “civil and criminal acts” soon enough.
The scary thing is that you can just hear the Homeland Security official salivating when he brags about how little they will be reigned in under current law.  “There is little if any policy, guidance or procedures regarding the collection, exploitation and dissemination of domestic [spying with this kind of technology].”

When will we cross the line into totalitarianism?  Have we already?