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  • Share Bear

    Some cultures don’t have the word “mine” because everything is considered “ours.”  For them, personal possession isn’t a concept because all property is communal.  Although I think this is a beautiful notion, I was raised in an environment where my Dad’s popcorn was his, and to even think of taking some I had to consider what life would be like without fingers.

    American individualism means that we are very attached to the idea of “I,” “mine,” and “me.”  The person is more important than the collective.  Although we are taught values, and to honor other people by being aware of their needs, that doesn’t take away that our filter is clouded by the idea of “how will this effect me” more than “we.”

    I would say that I am a generous person.  I am giving with what I have: my money, my time, my home, my love.  But when I view something as mine, and feel ownership over it, I don’t like to share it.  I mean, of course I do share – after all I did graduate from the 3rd grade.  But I do so begrudgingly.  More because I don’t want to say “no” than actually wanting you to have a bite of my cupcake.  And to be honest, I say “no” a fair amount too.  I guess I really like cupcakes.

    But since having a child I have had to share everything with her.  I shared my body with her when she was living inside of it, I shared my precious lady parts with her when she burst out of them, I shared my boobs with her as she survived off of them, I share every single thing I eat and drink with her even though she backwashes and her hands are gross.  And you know what? I want to! I even ENJOY sharing with her.  Those crazy mommy hormones make sharing with her feel better than having myself. I would rather The Munch had the last bite of avocado because it is more important that she eats.  My excessive love for her means I want for her more than I want for me.

    But everyone has their limits.

    Last night when I was putting The Munch to bed she decided she wanted to bring my teddy bear into her crib.  Now, I now I am a grown ass woman, but I have been sleeping with a stuffed animal my entire life and that is my teddy bear.

    Toni: “Munch, that is Mamma’s teddy bear.  But it back on my bed please.”

    Munch: “No I want to bring your bear in my crib.”

    Toni: “No sweetie.  That is Mamma’s.  You have all your babies, your seal named Penguin, your weird vagina looking monster thing… Mamma only has one bear.  So can you put him back please?”

    Munch: “No but I want to bring him in my crib!!! Please Mamma.”

    Toni: “Okay Munch.”

    Did I want to share my bear with her?  No. Not at all.  Did I say yes? Of course I did. I am her mother and my love is unconditional.  And because the second after she feel asleep I took it back.

    (Tell me that is not a vagina monster???)

    share-bear-blog-(i)

  • My Child is a Shaman

    We all have an inner voice.  Mine perhaps is more outer than most, but my belly button is an innie so it all evens out.  Unless you have hyper-conditioned your mind to speak only affirmations, chances are your internal dialogue is quite critical.  Mine is telling me, “that was a stupid sentence, and you are always wordy, and write too many run-ons, and your skin is looking grey, and your hair is stringy, and there you go with those run-on sentences again you big poopy face dumb-dumb.”

    Some people are more sadistic to themselves then others.  Self-abuse is never okay because it can make you go blind, or grow hair on your palms.  At least that is what I was told.  I have a friend who is a lovely talented angel from another dimension of perfection, but she is always ripping herself apart – which is gross and makes stains.  The story she tells herself of her life does not honor her ability or accomplishments.

    Today she was lying on my bathroom floor, going down a spiral of negativity, and feeling really down.

    Toni: “Munch, should we go check on Bridget to see if she is okay?”

    Munch: “Okay… Mamma she is on the floor!”

    Toni: “I know Munch!”

    Munch: “Is she okay? Is she feeling sick?”

    Toni: “Yes Munch, she is feeling sick.”

    Munch: “She is sooo sick and she is on the floor?  What’s the matter with her?”

    Toni: “I don’t know Munch… what do you think she is sick with?”

    Munch: “Ummmm I think she is sick in her mouth.”

    Isn’t that so insightful?  I have never complained about my mouth being sick, and really don’t think The Munch was reenacting some ailment she has witnessed.  She came up with that out of her own intuition.  And I think she is completely right.  We too often tell ourselves that we aren’t good enough.  The inner-dialogue harshly condemns more than it expresses positivity and self-love.

    The Munch is a wise sage.  A shaman if you will… because maybe we are all a little sick in our mouths.

    (Look! Munch did our make-up! Don’ we look amazing!?”

    shamen-blog-(i)

     

    March 22, 2013 • 2nd Month, baby brain, Mommy Mind, Musings, Talking and Not Talking • Views: 6020

  • When you are talented you don’t have to be pretty

    Although the culture at large is obsessed with physical beauty, being an attractive woman can become the defining attribute of your identity.  Men of course can be vain and care deeply about their appearance, but there will still be societal expectations of him beyond his defined cheekbones and sculpted buttocks.  Yet for a woman, sometimes, just being pretty can be enough.

    When a woman is gorgeous it can excuse her from being anything else.  That is why it is always surprising when a stunning girl also happens to be smart, or good at science, or interested in politics.  The “sexy professional” is a concept so absurd by cultural standards that it has become a cliché Halloween costume… in the realm of myth, fantasy, and the ridiculous.

    Even though I know all this, and can identify the meaninglessness of judging women for her looks, I still do it everyday of my life.  I will flip through a magazine or watch a movie and think: “Well, she is not that pretty.  Her left eye is lower than her right and she has this weird dimple thing going on when she talks.  Her forehead is too small and there is a something funky going on with her left ear.  Oh, and her ass is kind of flat and flabby.”

    What am I even talking about?? Why do I do that?

    First of all, all these women are somehow in the spot light and therefor have even more pressure to be aesthetically perfect.  Which is bizarre considering how many foul looking men are able to be in that same position but are critiqued on skill alone.  Then I realized that the women I evaluate the most are the ones that I am not blown away by their talent.  I mean they are okay, they don’t suck, but they aren’t brilliant.  When a woman is really masterful at her craft, be it Lena Dunham, Adel, Brittany Howard, Meryl Streep, Toni Morrison, Janice Joplin, Virginia Wolf, Martha Graham… I don’t give a flying fuck in a rolling doughnut what they look like.  I will maybe rip apart Brittany Spears for her hair extensions showing and having a frozen grin plastered to her face, but that is because she is only mediocre at singing.

    So being excessively beautiful may stunt your growth as a human, artist, or thinker because people’s expectations of you will be lower.  You wont have to push yourself as hard.  Beauty can conceal your averageness.

    Supposedly I am not supposed to tell my daughter she is pretty all the time because that will infect her psyche and she will start to believe her beauty is tied with her self-worth.  No doubt.  This is true, and I down with this idea.  But I also don’t want her relying on her lovely face, and be unexceptional in the rest of her life, because it was too easy to invest more in her genetic disposition.  That sounds lame!  I would so much rather The Munch impress people with her endless genius than her tits or ass.  Of course I don’t want to give her a complex and never acknowledge her adorableness, but at the same time most insanely attractive people are also insanely boring.

     

    when-you-are-talented-blog-(i)

     

     

    March 18, 2013 • 2 years old, Mommy Body, Mommy Mind, Musings, Women's Business • Views: 3557