TheWholeMom.com Webzine

How Does Your Garden Grow?

2007-05-09T01:09:15Z

I�??m sitting on a cement block right outside of my minivan, in the parking lot of my local garden center. My kids, ages one and three, are dragging sticks through a mud puddle. I know that soon they will be dragging themselves through a mud puddle. But I don�??t care. They are entertaining themselves and giving me a free minute to think. Somehow, on this beautiful early spring day, I have locked my keys in the car. The keys are dangling from the ignition. Glinting in the sunlight. I think they are my fourth �??extra�?? set. One set is probably in my purse�?? also in the car. I�??ve taken to just slipping a debit card in the front pocket of my overalls; I had once (or more) unintentionally whacked my daughter in the head with my swinging purse as I tried to reposition her brother in my arms, so I go without when I can. Anyway, I think another set may also be in the car, or back at my home office somewhere on my desk. Still another may be in the little hide-a-key container that had once upon a time been stuck on the right front wheel well, Of course, it is also gone. So, four keys, a husband out of town and no way to get in my car. My trip to the garden center to pick up azaleas for $3.99 a piece just got a little more expensive. I�??ll have to call a locksmith. I push the garden center�??s little red wagon full of azaleas closer to the front of my car so they don�??t appear abandoned. I retrieve my kids from their mud puddle and head back into the nursery to use their phone. Of course my cell phone is also safely locked in the car. Walking with a three-year-old is never a Point A to Point B task. We meander, I admonish, I swing the one-year-old from one hip to another. I heave him up on my shoulders and he weaves my hair through his tiny fingers. Then he tears the hair from my scalp and I yelp. I clasp the hand of my three-year-old, already feeling its smallness fleeting. I take comfort in her hand�??s size and warmth; it lowers my blood pressure; it gives me the knowledge that I would die before I�??d allow anything to happen to her. But then I realize I left the dog at home in the backyard�?�since we were just running out for a quick trip�?�and now he is probably barking and there will be a message of complaint from our next-door neighbor on my answering machine. I pull my daughter�??s hand to speed her up. The nursery provides a phone book and telephone. I search for the closest mobile locksmith open on Sundays and call. My daughter pulls on the phone�??s cord, �??I want to talk, I want to talk,�?? and my son slides halfway off my shoulders trying to reach the �??bye bye.�?? I yell for my children to stop and I think I also blasted the eardrum of the locksmith. I hang up. I hand the phone book back to the woman behind the counter and thank her. She says, �??Sure looks like you have your hands full.�?? I smile and nod. It�??s not the first time I�??ve heard that. The locksmith will meet me in half an hour and it will cost $68 plus tax. Cash or check, I am hoping a checkbook sits in my purse in the locked car. I can�??t remember if I have any. Though I probably have enough in coin�??I never bother to count my change or keep a coin purse. I never have enough free hands. I just sling it into my purse or pocket. We head back to the car to wait. How will I keep them entertained and out of traffic for 30 minutes? How did I let this happen? How did I reach the point where all my backups failed? Why did I even bother going to get plants today to begin with? Those azaleas are sure to sit in their green plastic pots for moths before being planted. Then, in a spare and inspired ten minutes, and with a need to beautify and nest, I�??ll plant them in the ground with no thought or care. They�??ll be dead before they even had a chance. I�??ll be out the $40 I spent at the nursery, not to mention the $70 for the locksmith. I sit back down on my cement perch and my kids set to the mud puddle again. I just let them be; I can change them when I get home. How did I get here? Why didn�??t anyone tell me that motherhood would mean giving up a piece of my mind? I used to be in control. I used to be able to move from A to B with few, if any, distractions. I didn�??t used to yell this much. I used to wear real clothes and brush my hair before I went out my front door. I used to �?�. �??AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYYY,�?? cries my youngest. �??Honey, what are you doing to your brother?�?? I yell. �??He wants my rock,�?? she explains as if this made sense. �??Hon, just give him your rock and why don�??t you go find another �?��?? �??NOOOOOOOOOOOOO. It�??s mine.�?? Did I really used to sit in faraway cafes with no thought to timetables and babysitters? Was that really me who spent an afternoon drinking ouzo at a beach in Crete? Enjoying sunshine, conversation? Talking with my husband about our dreams of children? It seems more than a lifetime away. A car wants the parking space next to ours. I pull my children close so they are out of the way. An older lady gets out of her car; She is fresh out of a Smith & Hawken catalog, wearing �??gardening clothes�?? �?? clean crisp denims, a wide white hat and canvas shoes. Her hair is immaculately styled and her lipstick has been freshly applied. My daughter says �??Hi�?? to her and the older woman responds the same. Then my daughter says, �??Mommy locked the keys in the car so we have to wait for the man to get them out.�?? �??Oh dear, are you OK?�?? she asks. I tell her we are fine. �??Well, would you like a hand until help gets here?�?? Before I have a chance to tell her that�??s not necessary, my daughter starts rattling off the high points of the last episode of �??Blue�??s Clues," and the older woman appears interested. �??How old is she? About three?�?? �??Yes, she was three at Christmas.�?? �??And the little one, is he two?" �??No, �?? I reply. �?? Just 16 months. He�??s really tall for his age though.�?? �??My yes. My grandkids are about their ages. It goes so fast.�?? She says, somewhat wistfully. �??So I�??ve heard. The days are slow, but the years speed by.�?? I say. �??Well, isn�??t that the truth. Are you sure you don�??t need anything?" She asks. �??No thanks. We�??re fine. The locksmith ought to be here really soon.�?? I look towards the street hoping to see him arriving. �??O.K., well you take care,�?? she pats my son on the head. �??You know, today might be tough, but they are really only little once. I still can�??t believe my babies are having their own babies.�?? �??Yeah, that�??s true.�?? I say, �??Thanks.�?? �??O.K. You have a better day, won�??t you?�?? she asks. A great big purple truck pulls up to my van. �??This must be for you,�?? says the older woman. Then she is off with a wave. The locksmith pulls out a long, thin piece of metal. He slides it through the rubber seal on the passenger window and the door is open in seconds. As he opens the door I am momentarily embarrassed because my car is so messy �?� books, snacks, coats, bags, sippy cups, coffee cups, and so on. Amazingly, I have cash. I hand the locksmith a wad of crumpled bills and he is on his way. I load the kids in and snap them into their car seats. Books and blankies, snacks and sippy cups back in position. I get in and buckle up, start the car and head out of the parking lot and make a left out onto the street. As we pass the nursery, I see my red wagon filled with my bargain azaleas sitting where I left them. To get back I will have to go up two blocks, wait for a U-turn and then head back to the nursery. �??Darn, darn, darn.�?? I mutter as I stop at the light. �??Mom, what�??s wrong?�?? asks my daughter. �??Nothing, nothing.�?? �??Moooooooooomy�?��?? she whines. �??Whaaaaaaattttt?�?? I snap. �??I love you.�?? I think back to the warmth of her small hand in mine. I take a sharp breath and close my eyes for a moment. �??Thanks sweetie. I love you too, Hey! Who wants to stop at the park?�?? �??I do, I do!�?? the back seat chorus sings. And I sail down the road. Maybe someone else, someone who has the time for gardening, will find the abandoned azaleas�??perhaps that woman in the gardening hat. She will plant the flowering bushes and they will grow beautiful, lush and hearty for years to come. In the meantime, I�??ve got my own garden to tend. Kim Haskitt is a marketing consultant, and lives with her husband, three kids and two dogs in picturesque Snoqualmie, WA. She hasn't made it from point A to point B in a long time, and doesn't plan on doing it anytime soon.

Until Our Hearts Are On the Ground

2007-05-07T01:01:09Z

�??Until Our Hearts Are On the Ground�??: Aboriginal Mothering, Oppression, Resistance and Rebirth, edited by D. Memee Lavell-Harvard and Jeannette Corbiere Lavell is an eye-opening and diverse collection of papers published by Demeter Press, the publishing division of York University's Association for Research on Mothering. The book's title comes from a Cheyenne proverb:

�??A nation is not conquered until the hearts of its women are on the ground. Then it is done, no matter how brave its warriors nor how strong their weapons.�??

Until Our Hearts Are On the Ground's diversity is both its strength and a minor drawback. The multiple voices, different indigenous peoples, varied histories, and the personal experiences of motherhood that Lavell-Harvard and Lavell (mother and daughter editors) bring together are amazing, but the diversity is sometimes overwhelming. It can be difficult to switch gears between the diverse topics and styles of writing in the contributions. Lavell-Harvard and Lavell acknowledge this in the first paper ("Thunder Spirits: Reclaiming the Power of Our Grandmothers"), noting that "There is such a range of Aboriginal women's experiences existing somewhere between "traditional" and "modernized" that perhaps the only thing we do share is what Mihesuah calls a 'commonality of difference'"(p. 2). They go on to eloquently and convincingly explain how:

"the historical persistence of our cultural difference generation after generation (despite the best assimilative efforts of both Church and State) is a sign of our strength and our resistance. That we have historically, and continually, mothered in a way that is "different" from the dominant culture, is not only empowering for our women, but is potentially empowering for all women (p. 3)."

Lavell and Lavell-Harvard do a skillful job of organizing the diverse works into four sections: one on pregnancy and becoming a mother, the ideology and practice of motherhood, the state's influence on motherhood, and literary representations of motherhood.. And the references and the endnotes are remarkable - there are scads of wonderful, intriguing sounding articles, books, and papers from the most obscure places in each article's references. A few of the papers are written in an academic style that can be off-putting for those not accustomed to it. If you persevere, however, the insights into different cultures and social groups, and the historical understandings gained, are definitely worth a few obtuse paragraphs of sociology, medical anthropology, ethnohistory, or literary analysis. I learned something, or was moved, or came to a new appreciation for the strength that the mothers portrayed have shown in the face of incredible hardship in every single one of the papers in this book. The seventeen papers include reflections on motherhood amongst the Anishnaabe (Ojibway) of Canada, cultural and personal implications of the medicalization of birth (among Anishnaabe and Mi'kmaq communities), a fascinating look at historic Haudenosaunee (Iroqouis) mothering (especially interesting for those studying non-patriarchal societies and/or gender equality) , and one Metis mother's powerful account of how traditional parenting skills programs made a difference in her life. �??Back to Basics�?? describes mothering, and the impact that grandmothers and aunts - also prominent in several of the earlier papers on Canada - have on children�??s survival (especially from kwashiorkor) in urban Ghana. On my first look at the book, I thought that Africa was a far cry from Canada, and wondered how this piece could possibly fit in with the other papers, but the authors do show how colonization and various forms of oppression have had a similar effect on motherhood in many areas of Africa, North America, and Australia. Similarly, three papers on Aboriginal mothers in literature, including works by authors Leslie Marmon Silko, Louise Erdrich, and Nugi Garimara (aka Doris Pilkington, the author of Follow the Rabbit-Proof Fence) fit well in this book. "Aboriginal Mothering: An Australian Perspective" provides an important look at "the Stolen Generation" (which many North Americans first heard about in the movie The Rabbit-Proof Fence), focusing on how women and families are re-connecting after the long period of cultural genocide that happened when children were taken by the Australian government in the years between 1905-1970. This paper is fittingly followed by a couple of papers on Canadian state child protection policies and indigenous mothers, the history and lingering effects of Canada's residential schools, and a short but revealing look at the impact of Canada's Indian Act and its context in colonization and oppression, authored by the editors. As described on page 188, Jeannette Corbiere Lavell (one of the editors and co-author of "Aboriginal Women vs. Canada" ) was the first woman to challenge the section of the Indian Act's Section 12(1)(b), which was finally amended by Bill C-31 in 1985. As an American, I had heard the Canadian term "status Indian", but I was unfamiliar with the implications of how the Canadian Indian Act worked (and continues to work with its 1985 modifications). As Lavell and Lavell-Harvard describe,

"For well over a hundred years, beginning in the 1870s and continuing until as recently as 1985, under the provisions of section 12(1)(b), upon their entrance into marriage with a man not possessing Indian Status, the Canadian government stripped tens of thousands of Aboriginal women (and any subsequent children) of their Indian Status, and all the rights such status entailed including access to health care, education, and perhaps most importantly the right to live in their own homes and communities. Conversely, under the Act, not only did Indian men not lose status upon marriage to a non-aboriginal, their spouses gained status as did their children...Furthermore, since the extinguishment of Indian Status was irrevocable, many Aboriginal women were left without recourse in the even of domestic violence, divorce, or widowhood (p. 187)."

As Lavell and Lavell-Harvard point out, Bill C-31 (which restored Indian status to over 100,000 people)

"has simply created several new categories of Indian and only postponed the extinguishment of Indian status a couple of generations. While Lavell, and many other women like her, were reinstated as 6(1) Indians, her three children were classified as 6(2) Indians, which means their children, her grandchildren, will only be considered Indians should her children marry status Indians. Should her children marry non-Indians, her grandchildren will automatically be considered non-Indian. In a sad twist of fate, or perhaps a particularly ingenious governmental trick, Lavell's struggle for the right to marry whomever she pleases and still remain an Indian is currently being relived by her children" (p. 191).

This papers in this part of the book - the section titled "'Big Mother': The Role of the State in the Performance of Mothering" - are the most disturbing to read, but also the most illuminating. I believe that most readers will come away from Until Our Hearts Are On the Ground with a deeper understanding of how history (and current government policies) affect families through their actions on mothers and mothering, as well an enduring admiration for the women who showed such strength in the past, and who continue to fight for their rights today. Until Our Hearts Are On the Ground also demonstrates the richness and diversity of Aboriginal motherhood, and should lay the idea that there is "one right way to mother" permanently to rest.]]> blogging into her life.

The Kindergarten Gender Police

2007-04-26T14:12:42Z

I recently got gender-schooled by a 5 year old girl. My offense? My two year old son was wearing pale blue Dora the Explorer gloves. When I picked them up, I thought, these are probably intended for girls, but hell, they�??re pale blue and he loves Dora, maybe he�??ll actually keep these on. So this little girl very determinedly told me that Dora gloves were for girls (she didn�??t even notice that they were several sizes too big!) and since The Little Guy was a boy he shouldn�??t be wearing them. I quickly replied that Dora gloves were for anyone who loves Dora, and since TLG loves him some Dora, he could wear them. She stood back for a second and gave me a funny look but then she nodded and went off. I couldn�??t tell if she had decided I was right or if she had given me up as hopeless (�??Yep, The Boy�??s mom has gone right off the deep end, I should probably get going�??). To be clear, I�??m not one of those people who would send their kid out in the world in the opposite gender�??s clothes just to make a point. I encourage them to wear comfortable clothes that they like and that are appropriate for the activity at hand. If those clothes happen to be designed for the opposite gender, that�??s fine (and I do give them the choice of all colours and designs when clothes shopping) but I don�??t press them to buy purple flowered dresses just to challenge the status quo. Before The Boy started Kindergarten, I had a twinge of concern about whether his teacher would be one of those �??boys will be boys�?? people and I would have to spend the whole year unraveling the gender nonsense she or he would put in The Boy�??s head. It hadn�??t occurred to me to worry about his classmates and their gender nonsense. I didn�??t realize the gender police recruited people so young. Because our whole family prefers to be home rather than anywhere else, and the parents that we socialize with either hold similar views on gender or know better than to take it up with me, I hadn�??t yet encountered this gender rigidity in small kids. Sure I�??d heard the occasional �??that�??s for boys�?? or �??that�??s a girl thing�?? but nothing matching the self-assured pronouncement of this little girl. She was telling it like it is, not offering an opinion. It was funny, yet at the same time it really bothered me. I know that five year olds are not the most open-minded creatures on earth, shades of grey are not something they enjoy. But the fact that this little girl was so definite made me think that her parents must be teaching her and her brother some fairly strict gender rules and she is taking those rules to school. And I know she is not the only one. I�??m not so naive that I thought this would never happen, I just hadn�??t expected it from the other kids in kindergarten. And I have noticed a sharp increase in bold statements about boys and girls coming from The Boy lately, but I have resolved to challenge every one. The poor kid is saddled with a mother who asks him endless questions and makes him think about what he just said. I hope my questions make him think twice about joining the gender police �?? even if it�??s just because it is not worth the hassle from me. © 2007, Christine Hennebury -- Christine Hennebury is a freelance mom and stay-at-home writer living in Newfoundland. On any given day she can be found juggling two small boys, her marriage, some writing assignments, her theatre company, an arts association and a cup of mint tea. She also makes a mean chocolate chip cookie but never, ever, wears an apron. More of her writing can be found at www.mombie.com.]]>

Mad Hatter's March Social Justice Roundtable Wrap-Up

2007-04-13T12:14:59Z

Welcome to the March Just Posts, the parenting blogosphere's roundup of posts on social justice pulled together by me and my charming life-partner, Jen of One Plus Two. The Just Posts are also featured on the Whole Mom Webzine. Before I unleash you on this month's varied and insightful reading, I'd like to talk about a topic that is weighing heavily with me today. I live in Atlantic Canada, though I am not from this place. I spent the majority of my life in Ontario and Alberta, Canada's two richest provinces. Atlantic Canada, while being a twee tourist haven in the minds of many Canadians, is what we call a "have not" region. The great Atlantic fishery is in decline what with cod stocks facing extinction from decades of over-fishing, lobster populations in decline, and farmed salmon coming under negative scrutiny for high PCB levels. The seal hunt has been brow-beaten by powerful but perhaps not wise critics (see Alpha Dogma's post below). Our forests are not what they once were. Even the growth industry of information technology that was touted at our saving grace a decade or so has fallen short of its promised potential, creating nothing but McCall Centre jobs for minimum wage and little hope for advancement. Much of the work out here is seasonal. Increasingly, the young pull up stakes for a better life elsewhere. Many flee to Alberta's rich and labour-hungry oil patch. There are a lot of people in Canada who look at the East Coast and see everything that is wrong with social democracy. They see a welfare state, a culture of dependency. Our own Prime Minister, before he became leader of the Conservative Party, condemned the "culture of defeatism" out here. The year I moved east from Alberta, then Premier Ralph Klein in an effort to defend his province's oil riches ressurected a popular slogan from the anti-NEP (National Energy program) movement of the late 70s: "let those Eastern bastards freeze in the dark." Ouch. Now, he didn't just mean Atlantic Canada when he said it but imagine how easily I, a displaced Albertan, made friends upon my arrival. Two days ago, on Easter Sunday, on the day preceding the 90th anniversary of Canada's victory at Vimy Ridge, a light armoured vehicle carrying Canadian soldiers hit an explosive device in Afghanistan. Six soldiers were killed. Five of them were from Atlantic Canada. Since Canada began its mission in Afghanistan, 52 soldiers have been killed. About a third of them have been from this region. The province where I live has a combined population that is slightly less than Edmonton, the city where I used to live. Atlantic Canada's population is roughly 7% of Canada's total population; and yet, the number of combat dead is 1 in 3 when it should be fewer than 1 in 10. Such arguments about race, class, and regional representation in the armed forces are often made in the US. They don't really get much media play here, north of the border. The next time some politician starts spouting off about how Atlantic Canada does not contribute its fair share to this nation, I ask you to claw the dollar signs from that person's eyes. When you are a have-not region, it would seem that your best option is to raise your sons and daughters to be canon fodder. And if that isn't a social justice issue, I don't know what is. Those who gave the gift in March are: Alejna at Collecting Tokens with Finding My Voice Alice at And She Wrote with Simple Justice and Small Change Alpha Dogma with Seal Deal Andrea at Little Bald Doctors with A Blogger of Substance The Atavist with Walking Talk Blog Antagonist with No Hablas Engles Bon at Crib Chronicles with Real Moms Chani at Thailand Gal with Wear Your Love Like Heaven Gwen at Woman on the Verge with Ours Goes to Eleven Jen at One Plus Two with Circle Game, Do We Ever Really Know What Time it Is and Boy in a Box Jess at Oh the Joys with Warmth Jill at Not so Sage Wisdom with Engendered Julie at The Ravin' Picture Maven with Must Read Posts related to the HPV Vaccine, Normalizing Disabilities: Is it Right and Sticks and Stones May Break My Bones KC at Where's My Cape with Blind or Need Blind and Thin parts 1, 2, 3, 4 Kyla at The Journey with Zen Shmen Little Monkies with Insanity on Treadmill 29 Liv at Madness, Madness I Say with D-I-V-O-R-C-E Mad Marriage with Is there No Justice and Lack of Justice in the College Admissions Process Magpie at Magpie Musing with Kristof Led Donations Mary G at Them's My Sentiments with Blowin' in the Wind Mary Murtz at Eleven with Part 3 Mother-Woman with Unsolicited Book Advice Mouse at the Mouse's Nest with Global Warming Wednesday: Is it (Im)material?, BYOB (Bag that is), Bagging Plastic Bags, Cars QT at Can we Kick the Bar Here with Any Soldier Sandra at MommyBlogsToronto with Stop the "Eggs Stinking" Slouching Mom with With Friends Like These Who Needs Enemies Susanne at Creative Mother Thinking with March Just Post Urban Urchin with Let Love Rule Those who saw the worth in others: Alejna at Collecting Tokens Bon at Crib Chronicles BubandPie Carrie at Third Time's a Charm Flutter at Fluttercrafts Hel at Truth Cycles Jen at One Plus Two Jess at Oh the Joys Jill at Not So Sage Wisdom KC at Where's My Cape? Mad Hatter Sandra at Sunshine Scribe Susanne at Creative Mother Thinking]]> Mad Hatter is a 41-year-old librarian and mother to a 2-year-old daughter. Her professional interest is children's literature. Her activism involves lobbying for women's reproductive rights and raising awareness about global inequalities.

Jen's March Just Post Roundtable Wrap-Up

2007-04-13T12:04:37Z

I thought it only fitting that I talked about the plight of migrant farmworkers in honor of Cesar Chavez. It's especially pressing on my mind recently after reading about the horrific conditions many farmworker families face daily while living in migrant farm worker camps. The LA Times recently did a story titled The Southland's Third World Slums, which chronicles the life in a migrant farm worker trailer camp in Coachella Valley. This is not a picture from the article. This makeshift town on Reservation land (thus exempt from zoning laws) has over 500 hundred families living it with no running water, no electricity, no heat. They burn waste for heat which creates toxic fumes. They bathe in and drink contaminated water. They sleep up to 30 deep in small trailers without running water or plumbing; kids often sleep outside on makeshift beds made of cardboard. The average income is $10,000 for a family of six. Children suffer high levels of pulmonary illnesses, coughs, infections and skin rashes. The camp resides next to one of the most toxic dumps in the area, citing more than 20 times the national amounts of certain deadly toxins. The dump, like the camp, is on reservation land, but the EPA pushed to get it closed and has been successful a number of times. The park and its inhabitants have stayed open; it's not deemed as dangerous as the pollution being emitted by the dump. No doubt because that pollution can enter anyone's lungs, even us white folks driving by. The latino families who have nowhere to go aren't quite as lucky. Sadly, this type of living environment is all too common. And America is not alone in this. Canada has also long cited an immigrant problem and has been accused of mistreating MFWs. "Immigrants are choking welfare systems, contributing to high unemployment, and many cannot read."(Art Hanger, Canadian Press, February 2, 1994)

Picture and quote courtesy of J4MW, a volunteer driven Canadian NGO/activist group.

Some might say these folks are here illegally, they get what they get. But I can't subscribe to this because if they are living like this while working 12 hours or more a day then it must be a lot worse where they came from. I also can't subscribe to this because I have no idea what it truly means to be desperate; to not have clean water for M, to work so hard for so very little. And we all eat the fruits of their labors, casually tossing grapes in our mouths without thinking how they got to our table. And now for the March Roundtable. Thank you to all of you for sitting around our fire and making me think. The writers: Alejna at Collecting Tokens with Finding My Voice Alice at And She Wrote with Simple Justice and Small Change Alpha Dogma with Seal Deal Andrea at Little Bald Doctors with A Blogger of Substance The Atavist with Walking Talk Blog Antagonist with No Hablas Engles Bon at Crib Chronicles with Real Moms Chani at Thailand Gal with Wear Your Love Like Heaven Gwen at Woman on the Verge with Ours Goes to Eleven Jen at One Plus Two with Circle Game, Do We Ever Really Know What Time it Is and Boy in a Box Jess at Oh the Joys with Warmth Jill at Not so Sage Wisdom with Engendered Julie at The Ravin' Picture Maven with Must Read Posts related to the HPV Vaccine, Normalizing Disabilities: Is it Right and Sticks and Stones May Break My Bones KC at Where's My Cape with Blind or Need Blind and Thin parts 1, 2, 3, 4 Kyla at The Journey with Zen Shmen Little Monkies with Insanity on Treadmill 29 Liv at Madness, Madness I Say with D-I-V-O-R-C-E Mad Marriage with Is there No Justice and Lack of Justice in the College Admissions Process Magpie at Magpie Musing with Kristof Led Donations Mary G at Them's My Sentiments with Blowin' in the Wind Mary Murtz at Eleven with Part 3 Mother-Woman with Unsolicited Book Advice Mouse at the Mouse's Nest with Global Warming Wednesday: Is it (Im)material?, BYOB (Bag that is), Bagging Plastic Bags, Cars QT at Can we Kick the Bar Here with Any Soldier Sandra at MommyBlogsToronto with Stop the "Eggs Stinking" Slouching Mom with With Friends Like These Who Needs Enemies Susanne at Creative Mother Thinking with March Just Post Urban Urchin with Let Love Rule The readers: Alejna at Collecting Tokens Bon at Crib Chronicles BubandPie Carrie at Third Time's a Charm Flutter at Fluttercrafts Hel at Truth Cycles Jen at One Plus Two Jess at Oh the Joys Jill at Not So Sage Wisdom KC at Where's My Cape? Mad Hatter Sandra at Sunshine Scribe Susanne at Creative Mother Thinking If you want to get on the mailing list for the Just Post Roundtables, drop me an email. We always have room for more at the table.

]]> Jen has worked with impoverished families, youth and adults for the past decade. After completing her graduate degree she has dedicated her work life towards advancing affordable housing and ending homelessness. Jen became a mother in 2004 and her whole world changed for the better, sleepless nights and all. Her daughter teaches her the extraordinary every single day. In her spare time she likes exploring the road less travelled.

Looking a Gift Horse in the Mouth

2007-04-12T14:00:06Z

I had a panicky moment a few weeks back. My 5 year old son was invited to a girl�??s birthday party. A girl I don�??t really know. I had no idea what to get for a present. Boys I�??m good with: I try to find something fairly neutral, like Legos or Magnetix. I stay away from sports stuff unless requested and I don�??t usually go for trucks and the like, in case they aren�??t that sort of boy. Girls that I know, I�??m fine with. I can figure out if they are Lego-inclined, or if they would just prefer Barbies. But buying a present for a girl I don�??t know makes me nervous. I can�??t bring myself to be one of those people who blithely assumes that all girls are princesses, or that they all want a tea set. On the other hand, I don�??t want to appear to be making a statement with each gift, buying toys that are more traditionally considered boys�?? toys. I don�??t want to deny a little girl the chance to explore a little beyond the gendered toy barriers (those barriers are a column in themselves!) but is it my responsibility to provide those choices for her? I think it is. As a mom I feel it is my responsibility to help any kid who needs me. As a feminist I feel that that help could include expanding a kid's gender horizons a little. Kids are too limited in what they are encouraged and �??allowed�?? to play with. A lot of parents I know just go with the flow and buy traditionally-gendered ones for their kids (and for other people�??s kids). They don�??t seem to give a lot of thought to the choices they are providing and the types of play they are encouraging. They just buy superhero stuff for boys, and princess stuff for girls and then say �??That�??s what she (or he) likes.�?? But if the kids haven�??t had the chance to try other types of toys, then they don�??t really know what they like. And when they play at someone else�??s house, they will likely gravitate to the familiar �?? at least once they get down to really playing, after the novelty of poking at unfamiliar toys wears off. I�??m guilty of this sometimes myself. I was doing pretty good overall--along with their Star Wars toys and little cars, my sons have lots of neutral toys like puzzles and coloring books, and they have a few dolls and a picnic set and play food. Then one day I had to dig something out of the bottom of the dress-up box. As I pulled out the capes of various superheroes, and the alligator suit and the Jawa costume, I realized that our dress-up box was seriously lacking in frills and sparkle. I didn�??t have a tutu, nor a fancy dress, nor anything a self-respecting girly-girl would ever want to wear. Sure I had a magic wand or two, and a couple of crowns, but that wasn�??t going to cover it. I couldn�??t believe I hadn�??t noticed before, especially after being so conscious with the rest of their toys. If one of my sons had an inclination to shine, I certainly wasn�??t giving them the opportunity with that collection. I�??m changing that bit by bit every time I hit the dollar store. It�??s not that I want to force my sons, or other people�??s kids, to play with what I�??d like. It�??s that I don�??t want them to be limited by what everyone else thinks they would like. If they aren�??t offered a range of experiences, then they aren�??t really getting to choose. As for the panic over the birthday present, I called her mother and she asked me to buy princess stuff, so I did. But I included a copy of Robert Munsch�??s The Paper Bag Princess. Perhaps she�??ll be the first princess in the class to not mind using her glass slippers to kick butt. © 2007, Christine Hennebury -- Christine Hennebury is a freelance mom and stay-at-home writer living in Newfoundland. On any given day she can be found juggling two small boys, her marriage, some writing assignments, her theatre company, an arts association and a cup of mint tea. She also makes a mean chocolate chip cookie but never, ever, wears an apron. More of her writing can be found at www.mombie.com.]]>

February Just Post Roundtable Part II

2007-03-11T01:24:38Z

Welcome to the February Just Posts, the parenting blogosphere's roundup of writing on social justice issues. The Just Posts are sponsored be me and my better half, Jen of One Plus Two. Each month, Jen and I kick off this linky love list by talking a bit about social justice causes near and dear to our hearts--don't forget to pop over and see what Jen has served up. As for me, today I need to state with much chagrin that you are getting a 2 for 1 special. You see, I was simply going to link to one of my favourite web sites in the world and leave it at that. The site is called PapaInk and until very recently it was a beautiful, not-for-profit, curated gallery of children's art. Words cannot do justice to how wonderful this site was/is. PapaInk featured art that was joyous, art that was skilled, and the glorious juvenilia of artists who went on to become famous, but there were also collections that could evoke such horror and pathos that at times I thought my heart would break just looking at the images. You see, PapaInk always devoted space to children's art from times and regions of intense trauma: art from the Holocaust, from Bosnia, from 9-11 and from the Rwandan genocide to name a few. Nothing in the West--no newspapers, no academic tomes, no documentaries, no NOTHING--could speak more to the need for global change than these images. Click on this link to see what I mean. This morning I was all set to pop a link into this post. It was then that I discovered that the site's server is now "Forbidden." What happened? I wish I knew. I googled high and low to find out but there were no notices, no press releases, and no word of mouth rumours. I visited this site just last month; now it has simply disappeared. Maybe the site is down temporarily (she hoped naively): a little restructuring and it will be up next week. Maybe it has shifted to a cost-recovery licensing platform (she grasped at straws knowing that if it had there would be a welcome mat and VISA machine). Maybe (she thought realistically) this is just another example of a not-for-profit going under with no money to stay and less money to plot a feasible, long-term exit strategy. Maybe I am just paranoid. But the thing is this. I am a librarian. I see this kind of thing all the time. Valuable information simply disappears. Too often such information originates as government publications or through government funded not-for-profits. This is public information that was out there one day that just up and disappears the next. Our tax dollars go towards projects designed for the public interest and, suddenly, with no warning these projects become for-fee services or they simply disappear. We pride ourselves on living in strong democracies here in the West, and yet we are silent witness to the erosion of so many of rights and freedoms that democracy should entail--like a public record that is kept public. Tonight I give thanks to the powers that be for libraries, for digital archives, and, specifically, for the Internet Archive. Without libraries always lobbying in the interests of public information so much would be lost, especially now that we live in a digital age. What gets written here and published on the internet is so fleeting and so vulnerable. But thanks to the Internet Archive this digital universe need not be as ethereal as a dream. At the Internet Archive you will find a snapshot of PapaInk from a year ago. Have a look at the collection called Witness to Genocide: The Children of Rwanda. Think about Darfur, the Child Soldiers of Uganda, Iraq... Try not to cry.]]> Mad Hatter is a 41-year-old librarian and mother to a 2-year-old daughter. Her professional interest is children's literature. Her activism involves lobbying for women's reproductive rights and raising awareness about global inequalities.

February Just Post Roundtable

2007-03-10T14:20:40Z

This marks the first time that this ongoing momosphere effort has been featured in theWholeMom. A joint project of jen at one plus two and Mad Hatter at Under the Mad Hat, this monthly round table showcases mommybloggers writing about social justice issues. We hope you enjoy it as much as we do. I don't know if homelessness exists in every city in the states, but I am going to assume it exists in most. I often watch other people's reactions when walking by someone who appears to be homeless. Some pick up the pace and stare straight ahead. Some look at the person and offer some sort of smile, a compassionate something or other. Spare change. Some folks are cruel, get a job. What I know is that it's hard enough to be in this situation without other people making it worse. What I know is that each one of these men and women are in a difficult place. What I know is that there but the grace of god go I. It's easy to feel helpless. The reality is there isn't much you can do in the moment to assist someone in this situation. But the one thing you can do is be kind. Kindness matters. Taking a moment to look the person in the eye, to offer that inconsequential bit of spare change, to exchange a few words. It matters. It makes one feel human. Imagine if everyone avoided you, all day every day. Imagine if you felt invisible. Alone. And on top of that, you slept outside in a doorway. If you have a moral objection to offering spare change, I can understand that. It doesn't work for everyone, and I am not saying it has to. I don't always have money to give. But if I don't, or if I just don't want to, I still answer them. I'll look the person in the eye and respond. I won't just ignore their pleas. I also realize you need to be mindful of personal safety, and if a situation ever feels sketchy, no one is asking you to channel Mother Teresa. But more often than not, it's not fear that makes us look the other way. Because if I was the one pleading, I'd want to be answered. I realize there is more to this, and not everyone has the same views on personal responsibility. That's ok. We don't have to agree and this doesn't need to be a dissertation about the right way to deal with this societal crisis. God knows I carry on enough about the societal implications of denying the right to housing. But I think we can agree that kindness matters, moreso in those moments when it is least expected. And there for the grace of god go we. If we all can stand being a bit more uncomfortable, I wonder how much more comfort we can share. This month's Roundtable is terrific. So many beautiful and passionate voices about so many different issues. You all made me think a bit harder this month. And made me want to try a little more. Those who spoke: KC with how does your garden grow Alice at And She Wrote with several posts all linked with the tag About Human Rights Julie went social justice crazy this month...all of her posts are linked via this portal post but we've also picked a couple of whamdoodles to highlight here, including think it's your body, your choice? and parenting prison Sin with looking closely and langa means sun Alejna with grammaticality judgments Sass with i will never leave you Green Parenting with ten reasons Joy with it's still tits Mouse with on marriage Mouse keeps rocking it with her Global Warming Wednesdays: Pulling our Heads out of the Sand; Valentine's Edition; Mouse the Vampire Slayer; and Polar Opposites Slouching Mom with they never expected this Amber with happy looooove day Deb with connectedness Chani with social justice on line safety Jill with commentary Andrea with mrs. jellyby Ann with playing with fire Danigirl with code blue for daycare Jess with cary and isaac Hel with i dream a better future Antique Mommy with Good Nurse, Bad Nurse Jory DesJardins of Pause with On Dying Well Those who listened: Susanne at Creative Mother Thinking Mary G. Mouse at The Mouse's Nest Alejna at collecting tokens KC at wheres my cape Kari at katronika Kiki at sticking to the point Kat at mama tulip Andrea at athena dreaming Mad at Under the Mad Hat Jen at one plus two Join us next month. If you write or read about social justice in it's various forms, send it our way. We'd love to have you join us around the fire.]]> Jen has worked with impoverished families, youth and adults for the past decade. After completing her graduate degree she has dedicated her work life towards advancing affordable housing and ending homelessness. Jen became a mother in 2004 and her whole world changed for the better, sleepless nights and all. Her daughter teaches her the extraordinary every single day. In her spare time she likes exploring the road less travelled.

Meet Mombie

2007-03-01T17:02:00Z

If you had asked me 6 years ago how I pictured my impending motherhood, I would have told you that I imagined that me and my daughters would be knee-deep in gender-positive activities, challenging the status quo, and showing the world what a real girl is made of. I don�??t really know where I got that image. It just seemed natural that, as a woman, I would produce more women. And as a woman with two fantastic sisters, I would give birth to another amazing sister team. So, at my 18 week ultrasound, I was completely baffled to discover I was having a boy. It�??s not that I thought I was having a girl, per se, it was just that having a boy hadn�??t occurred to me. It was as if someone had told me that my left elbow was male. It wasn�??t a problem, it just took some processing time. I was mocked for my bafflement. People thought I was being ridiculous, or that I was just trying to cover my disappointment in having a son, but that was really not the case. I just had to figure out how to incorporate this new information into my idea of mothering. I almost threw something at my friend B. when she squealed in delight at the thought of me having a boy. I was afraid she was one of those people who automatically assume it is better or easier to have boys. Instead, she said that it was important for a boys to have a strong mother like me, so they can grow up to be a good men who respect women and recognize them as equals. That�??s when I clicked my mental Viewmaster to a new picture. I was not to be the leader of a pack of feminist daughters; instead, I would be a spy. I would infiltrate the male ranks via my son, and try to change the system from within. It would be like introducing a virus into the hard drive (ha!) of the patriarchy, like poisoning the well. Sure, I couldn�??t bring it down on my own, but I could be part of the solution. I was comfortable with that. Now, six years later, I have two small boys to wrangle daily. And I�??ve discovered that gender is both far less important, and far more important, than I ever imagined. I love my kids because they are my kids. I�??m not sure why I thought I would understand girls any better than I do my sons. The fact that they are boys matters less than the fact that they are two incredibly interesting individuals. But at the same time, I find that I don�??t understand their motivations--the smashing, and the shouting, and the fart-related amusements. I worry about trying to discipline them for things that are based on their wiring, that they might have little or no control over. I worry about falling into the assumption that something is gender-based, when it is really just bad behaviour. I now realize that I would probably be worried about a lot of the same things if I had girls, but I might come at it from a different angle. So far, my only plan is to try to deal with gender consciously. To give the whole process of parenting a lot of thought. To question my own assumptions (and everyone else�??s). To avoid letting their gender entitle or limit them. To try to give two little boys the tools they need to become good men. Here�??s hoping I do a good job of it. © 2007, Christine Hennebury -- Christine Hennebury is a freelance mom and stay-at-home writer living in Newfoundland. On any given day she can be found juggling two small boys, her marriage, some writing assignments, her theatre company, an arts association and a cup of mint tea. She also makes a mean chocolate chip cookie but never, ever, wears an apron. More of her writing can be found at www.mombie.com.]]>

The Price of New Love

2007-03-01T17:01:00Z

Here's a little fact about myself I don't like to admit �?? hospital dramas make me cry like a baby. Hearing the theme song is enough to get me weepy. I blame my family. With two children under three and a husband working his way up the corporate ladder, my chances for thrills and turmoil are limited. Last week, the most exciting thing that happened to me involved dog vomit and quick reflexes. So when I received an e-mail from a old friend telling me she had started a serious relationship with one of my former boyfriends, it was big news. Big. New romance. Skeletoned closets. Love triangle. For the first time in a long time, I had that queasy feeling I get on job interviews. It's the feeling of uncertainty. Of possibility. But a half hour later, as I walked my girls around the neighborhood, I realized the knot in my gut was not my own. This was not my excitement. This belonged to somebody else. "Mommy, mommy. That�??s Frosty�??s candy. That�??s Frosty�??s candy," my 2-year-old chanted at me, pointing out our neighbor's holiday decorations that we�??ve walked by every day for almost two months. Candy canes. Snowmen. My heart is aflutter with excitement. Somewhere in a metropolitan setting, my friend and her new love are pursuing romance. She�??s probably eating sushi and drinking more sake than she should. My ex-beau, a successful businessman, probably brought a blue box tiny enough to hide in his pocket. My family, on the other hand, eats macaroni and cheese at least once a week. And it�??s from a box, not the fancy stuff from the deli. For my birthday, my husband bought me a cookbook. In his defense, I wanted the book. But it would have been nice if he had wrapped it. As my friend's relationship blooms, I imagine they'll go dancing. My 2-year-old recently figured out how to use the iPod. The other day, she was spinning around the kitchen wearing headphones singing, "Dedededede, Yeah!" Oh, and she wasn't wearing any pants. After sending my friend a heartfelt congratulatory note, which included pictures of my girls, she replied to thank me for being so cool. That's right �?? cool. In the note, she gushed over the photographs of my daughters. Seeing beautiful little girls, she said, always gives her maternal pangs. So apparently, the exciting start of a relationship is a means to an end, the end being my life. New couples everywhere, with knots in their stomachs, want what I have. Maybe I should send my friend a note, warning her. No. After all, she's stolen my ex. She deserves what she gets. © 2007, Christine Gardner -- Christine Gardner and her family moved to Normal, Ill., earlier this year when the chance to stay home with her two daughters presented itself. To stay sane, she works as a freelance writer, obsessively researches recipes in her "Cook's Illustrated" cookbook and keeps in touch with her non-mommy friends.]]>

My Sister's Keeper, by Jodi Picoult

2007-03-01T17:00:11Z

My Sister's Keeper is a book that bleeds with earnest intentions. The characters are well-drawn, the plot is briskly paced, the situation is moving, the theme is both relevant and engrossing. Unfortunately, the theme is also about as subtle as an anvil falling on a coyote's head. The book was liberally littered with flashing neon arrows saying "This Way to the Message!" Every passage ended with an epigrammatic observation on loss, relationships, life and death, and sacrifices both willing and unwilling. Every scene not tied directly to the plot was thematically so obviously related to it that not a single word in the novel's entire 423 pages could be enjoyed unrelated to the Big fluorescent yellow Point: There Are No Good Answers When Your Child is Very Sick, But Gee, No One Should Be Turned into a Living Organ Donor Against their Will, Either. Which, hey, is a good point. But when it can be written out as a single sentence, why expand it into a novel? I'm sure this sounds unbalanced. It's not a bad book. The momentum was good, I read it straight through to the end, I cried in all the right places, I empathized for the characters--none of whom had an easy choice to make. The writing itself was skillful and moving. But it would have been about a thousand times better if she had stopped with the gigantic signposts saying, This Way! I can handle a bit of subtlety. I like it when I realize, on about page 100, that the author is using a great deal of religious symbolism, and then putting the book down so I can spend twenty minutes thinking about why. This is infinitely more enjoyable than, "Yes! I get it! God! Heaven! Death! Enough already! I'm not stupid!" The ending has drawn some negative criticism; whether or not you find it disappointing will depend on whether you saw the foregoing several hundred pages as primarily about the parents' response to their daughter's illness and their belief that the future was ordained, or primarily about the youngest daughter's struggle to control her own body and destiny. If the former, the ending will make some sense. If the latter, it will be an enormous let-down. ]]> © 2006, Andrea McDowell -- Andrea McDowell is an editor of TheWholeMom.com and author of the blog a garden of nna mmoy. She has too many hobbies and not enough sleep.

About Us/Submission Guide

2007-03-01T17:00:00Z

What is TheWholeMom.com? TheWholeMom.com is a quarterly web-zine by, for and about mothers. We believe that mothers are people first, and through TheWholeMom.com we intend to create a publication and a community that supports mothers in all aspects of their identities from, yes, children and childcare to career and work, personal callings, hobbies, politics, activism, the arts, education, anything you can think of. We believe that the crisis of identity that mothers often suffer is an artifact of a culture that prescribes narrow roles for women with children, focused on children and childcare to the exclusion of almost everything else, and with a standard of Good Mothering that dictates not only correct child-rearing practices but the proper political and social beliefs to accompany them. We believe that having children is a transformative experience. Regardless of what �??kind�?? of mother you are or the world sees you as, having children changes you�??or not having them, as is the case for women struggling with infertility. From all parts of the motherhood continuum, from placing your children for adoption to adopting or undergoing fertility treatments, from having a baby on your own at 39 to getting married and starting a family at 19, from �??staying home�?? with the kids for a few years to heading back to a busy and fulfilling career at six weeks, from the moment that tiny fragile bundle is placed in your arms to standing misty-eyed at your grandchild�??s graduation�??having children changes you. It changes your perspective on the world. It changes your values. It changes your priorities. It changes the way you spend your time. It changes your income and the way you spend it. It can expand your heart and make you see the world in a whole new way. We believe that mothers have important and interesting things to say about the world outside of the nursery, the kitchen and the playroom; but that too often our voices are marginalized into �??mothers�?? publications�?? or that, if a mother speaks in another venue, she will frequently mask her status in the interests of supposed objectivity. At TheWholeMom.com we believe that motherhood (of any kind) is central to a woman�??s identity, but it is not the whole of her identity�??and it is the intersection of this one life-altering role and the many other roles, pursuits, interests and identities a woman may have that we intend to explore. For the foreseeable future, TheWholeMom.com will be focused on the intersection of mothering and active social and political engagement, on any scale from the family through to global organizations. This is just one of the many ways that mothers continue to be women with diverse and important interests; but as global conflicts, environmental issues and new ethical dilemmas become increasingly crucial, we hope to inspire you and give you hope for your and your children's future. Are you a mother? For the purposes of TheWholeMom.com, you are a mother if: * You have ever given birth; * You have been or have attempted to become pregnant; * You have entered into a surrogacy arrangement; * You have adopted, fostered, or otherwise taken children into your care and responsibility; * You have married or partnered with someone who has children, and you share childrearing and childcare responsibilities with this person. This includes birth mothers, adoptive mothers, mothers after infertility, young mothers, mature mothers, single mothers, women who have recently become pregnant or who are trying to do so, stepmothers, grandmothers, foster mothers�??any kind of mother at all. We are interested in mothers from all walks of life: regardless of your current income, marital status, age, country of origin or current residence, living situation, work or political affiliation. TheWholeMom.com is a progressive publication. We value diversity and tolerance and believe that a society which fosters acceptance and celebration of differences is healthier for us and for our children. Our focus is currently on the intersection of mothering with political and social engagement. Issues can range from environmental, to race, to sex and gender, to economic and class, and so on. Engagement can range in scale from actions taken within the family to global organizations or programs. The exception is family-scale activities which are really Mommy Wars in disguise (diapering, formula, television). Break the mold and tell us something new. Submissions can fit into one of several categories: Photos: Do you have a great picture of yourself, a friend, or someone else who fits our definition of a �??mother�??? We don�??t care if Glamour or Vogue would put you on the cover; in fact, we�??d rather if they wouldn�??t. Tidbits: Tidbits are anything short and snappy. It can be a brief news item, a recap of a recent study, a comic strip or illustration, a joke, or anything else that runs under 200 words. Columns: Would you like to write a regular or occasional column for TheWholeMom.com? Pitch us an angle, and we�??ll let you know. Essays: Essays are longer pieces (800-3,000 words) that explore a facet of your personal experiences. These can explore general mothering issues (what do you do with the ten minutes between the kids' bedtime and yours?) or those relating to activism specifically (if you have only ten minutes between the kids' bedtime and yours, what exactly can you get done with it? Is it possible to address City Hall coherently when you haven't had a solid night's sleep in three years? How do you struggle with the tension between providing the culturally mandated Best Possible Life for your kids, vs. the one you personally think would be better both for them and for the world they live in? And so on). Articles: Articles are similar in length to essays. These are not intended to be �??parenting articles�??; instructions on how to care for children will not be accepted. You might want to explore the ethics of bringing children to protest marches, or how to discuss gender issues with young kids, as two examples. Reviews: Self-explanatory. Note that reviews do not need to cover books, music or film about mothers. You can write a review of anything from death metal to graphic novels to film noir. It is a little known fact that mothers occasionally shop outside the parenting section. Interviews: Do you know a mom who's changing the world? Ask her how she does it. Fiction and Poetry: While submissions specifically dealing with mothering are always welcome, feel free to wander off the beaten path. TheWholeMom.com is financially supported by the editors, and we have no revenue. This means our site is accessible and ad-free; it also means we can�??t pay contributors right now. You can send a query for longer pieces; if you do, please include a writing sample (might include clips or, if you don�??t have any, a link to your blog or a piece from your own zine). We will respond within two months. Please submit by email to andrea@thewholemom.com and include the query or piece in the body of the email. Copyright: TheWholeMom does not retain copyright of published works. We acquire first-time electronic-only publishing rights. Please note that this includes the right to keep the work in the archives, as this is equivalent to a piece of printed work remaining in the issue in which it was published. If you need to explore removing a piece from the archives, let us know and we can work with you. * I realize that in many portions of this document, my use of �??mothers�?? falls back on traditional meanings of �??woman who currently has children in her life who she is primarily responsible for,�?? which seems to exclude some mothers (birth mothers, women struggling with infertility, mothers after loss, etc.). But please feel free to insert yourself and your own experiences into any of these descriptions of potential content; don�??t be limited by my imagination! Information TheWholeMom.com is published on an ongoing basis. The editors may be contacted at andrea@thewholemom.com or kim@thewholemom.com. TheWholeMom.com may receive, from time to time, unsolicited editorial-related materials (including letters to the editor, press releases, promotional items and images). TheWholeMom.com may use, reproduce, publish, republish, distribute, store and archive such unsolicited submissions in whole or in part without compensation of any sort. This statement does not apply to materials/pitches submitted by freelance writers, photographers or illustrators in accordance with known industry practices (though do note that at this time we are not able to offer financial compensation for such submissions). The opinions expressed herein are those of the respective authors and not necessarily those of TheWhleMom.com or its editors. TheWholeMom.com will not be liable for any damages or losses as a result of the reliance on or use by a reader or any other person of any of the information, opinions or products expressed, advertised or otherwise contained herein. Where appropriate, professional advice should be sought. © Copyright 2006-2007, TheWholeMom.com. Copyright in each contribution is separate from the copyright of the work as a whole and is vested with the author of the contribution. Reproduction in whole or in part without permission is strictly prohibited.

What's Going on Out There?

2007-03-01T17:00:00Z

1 a.m., Nearly 2, Late summer

2007-03-01T17:00:00Z

You came so clean The others were envious So wizened, you looked Already, despite your newness: An upturned face scrunched Hands folded, lotus-like Clasped and overlapped So quizzical and bright Immediately reaching. Instinct taking over What love! There is no comparison Yet found to match this. You took over distances In that room Rocking us through and through My love My love My little cub My little lion © 2007, Kris Underwood -- Kris Underwood still doesn't write as much in her journals as she would like, but can be found on her blog, Writing In The Mountains, pondering the ups and downs of motherhood and life in general.]]>

Children of Men by P. D. James

2007-03-01T17:00:00Z

I'm not much of a sci-fi reader, and I'm especially not a huge consumer of dystopian fiction. I'm far too optimistic to submit myself to the fatalistic outlook of dystopia. So I'm not overly familiar or comfortable with the conventions of the genre, outside of what I learned from Margaret Atwood, but as soon as I read the premise of this book, I knew I had to read it. It's set in the year 2021, and is told in the alternating first and third person perspective of Theo Fallon, an Oxford professor and historian. The future in which he lives is not so different from the world of 2007, nor the world of 1992 (when the book was written) insomuch as there are no flying cars, no outposts of civilization on the moon, not even any mention of computers that I can recall. But it is the world of a doomed society, because it has been more than 25 years since a baby has been born. In the year 1995, all of humanity has been struck, completely inexplicably, infertile. The book opens many years past the panicked shock of the initial realization. Theo notes in his diary, "We are outraged and demoralized less by the impending end of our species, less even by our inability to prevent it, then by our failure to discover the cause." Their spirits have been defeated not by the 'what', but by the unanswerable 'why?' The last generation of children, born in the year 1995, are known as Omega. As they become adults, society moves to erase the painful reminder that there will be no more children: "The children's playgrounds in our parks have been dismantled. [...] The toys have been burnt, except for the dolls, which have become for some half-demented women a substitute for children. The schools, long closed, have been boarded up or used as centres for adult education. The children's books have been systematically removed from our libraries. Only on tape and records do we hear the voices of children, only on film or television programs do we see the bright, moving images of the young. Some find them unbearable to watch but most feed on them as they would a drug." I was haunted by this idea, by a world without children. I found the concept entirely more chilling than the idea of humanity's ultimate expiration. Theo describes in a few scenes how pets have become substitute children, as in one scene where a kitten is christened in an abandoned church. In another, he alludes to the acrimony of custodial agreements for pets: "As the registered part owner on the fecund-domestic-animal licence, I could, of course, have applied to the Animal Custody Court for joint custody or an access order, but I had no wish to submit myself to the humiliation." (I remember joking back in the dark days, in the tight way one jokes about something that might not be so funny after all, that if we didn't have a baby soon, one might soon find me at the mall pushing our lovely golden-shepherd mix Katie in a pram with a bonnet on her head.) But the book isn't about infertility; it's more of an exploration of what would happen to humanity deprived of a future and forced to live through a slow and considered extinction. Not the most cheerful book I ever read, but fascinating and compelling all the same. Theo's cousin, Xan, is the Warden of England, a benevolent dictator who gives the people what he thinks they want: protection, comfort, and pleasure. When Theo, who had previously served on Xan's advisory council, is approached by a small group of revolutionaries who want to use Theo as a conduit to his powerful cousin, Theo is reluctant to get involved in anything that might disrupt his ordered life. When he does acquiesce, it is for completely unaltruistic reasons. The second half of the book becomes, rather unexpectedly after the thoughtful if plodding narrative of the first part of the book, a page-turning adventure. It's a fascinating, insightful book that left me considering the issues it raises long after I turned the last page. I'm not convinced I've adequately conveyed how much I enjoyed this book, how thought-provoking it was, and how I lingered over the last page, wondering what happened next. I'll just tell you that it's a really great book, one of the best I've read in a long time, and I'd love to talk about it with you. Postcards from the Mothership]]>