Blog Hugs, or "Blugs!"

Mama Christina from Diary of a Mom gave me a bloggy award! I am so flattered as it's my first!
The rules are:
One: Tell us about a memorable hug you’ve had. It can be a person, pet, whatever…
Two: “Hug” at least one other blogger or as many as you like.


Part One:

Wow, this is very hard for me. As many people know, I'm not a hugger. I'm not touchy-feely or lovey-dovey, and I have to remind myself to give physical affection, even to Pappa Starbucks. He, however, is very very much a hugger and is always asking for them and so is Little Berry. I think this will be a good exercise for me to write about hugging though since I've been trying to work giving them more....eagerly?
On my 20th birthday, Pappa Starbucks and I were meeting for breakfast. We were in college, we knew each other fairly well but were not involved. He was gushy-mushy-lovey-dovey-always-grinning around me and I knew he liked me a lot. One of the reasons I was at that point hesitating to date him was actually because of how exuberantly affectionate he was.
I got up that morning, showered and dressed in my favorite button down plaid shirt that my best friend always picked on me for wearing (good naturedly of course) and fixed a bowl of very crunchy granola to take to breakfast even though we were meeting in front of chic-fil-a (he's vegetarian and I didn't eat meat in front of him for a very long time) so I wouldn't be chowing down on a chicken biscuit while he ate his frosted flakes or oatmeal.
It was a chilly and frosty-aired morning, and I walked from my dorm to the cafeteria to meet this silly guy- trying to make sure my hair wasn't all frizzy from the sweater I was wearing, and generally wanting to look good but not have anyone know I was TRYING. It was, after all, my BIRTHDAY.
He met me inside the cafeteria with a cheerful grin and leaned in to hug me- "Happy Birthday!" he said. He smelled like Tide and toothpaste and I realized I had flutters- genuine nervous butterfly flutters in my stomach at that moment, and I knew we'd be together for a long long time.
And we've been together ever since!
Part Two:
I hug Ittybits and Pieces, The Milk Maid, Erin, Milk Donor Mama, and last but never least, my Friend Monica!

From the "archives"

Here are some pictures from this time last year. The first is of Inauguration night at the Governors party. We had just heard that Obama won.

It was so, so loud in that room. Perdue won as well and everyone was laughing, whooping, some crying. It was exciting for us as a family.
This second photo was taken at UNC as Pappa Starbucks picked me up on a friday afternoon. Have you been there in the fall before? It is so beautiful. Springtime, too.

Do you see this precious purple face?
We were struggling so hard with thrush and a cranky baby those days. Today she's well and instead of purple gentian violet stain...


Toothies.

Pappa Starbucks on Christina Rossetti's "Goblin Market"

He was summarizing her poem, and said this:
"It seems as if the reader herein almost has snuck into her mind knowing exactly where to go, what to interpret, and how to feel."

This is why he is a poli sci major...and I the English.

Sigh. He's missing such literary magic!
On the other hand, look how sweet my baby is:

Today, dear

I have been bitter, angry. I am impatient and I feel like a spoiled child. My temper has grown increasingly shorter, like a roll of bubble tape that's being chomped on very quickly. At first I understood my feelings as being a part of new motherhood. I am trying to come into my own, I don't want to leave my children feeling they are a devastating creation, and yet I also want them to have independence. Freedom.
But I haven't even started being OK with leaving Little Berry. I wonder if I am imagining it, but all around me I see women whose grip is looser than my own. And yet they seem happy. Happy. A feeling that eludes me even in the sweetest moments. I feel like I'm hyped up on a drug, addicted. To spending time with my daughter.
I wouldn't even feel like it was negative though if my husband didn't resent it. I feel like you don't want any "us time" anymore he says. People said all of the romance would go out of the relationship but I didn't think it would be like this. I blame part of it on my return to school so quickly. Leaving the two week old babe was just so fricking hard. I worked very hard to have the birth I wanted, quiet, unmedicated, at a center that lets you go home three hours after the baby is born.
And when I got home, company. He had decided to invite people over, just four hours after I had the baby, oh.
This has created tension between us as well. I had wanted the first night to be just us. A new family, before the hubbub of visitors. And though it sounds like a small insignificant thing, it is one of the largest reasons I chose to go natural. I wanted to come home the same day. To be a mamma in my own home.
I am still extraordinarily hormonal. I saw a young lady my own age last night at The Chlidren's Place. My baby just turned one she said. I hardly ever get to spend time with her because I'm a manager here. It was late, too. It was 10:00pm on a Friday night. I turned into a puddle of tears, pity really, for this woman, whose baby was merely 4 months older than my own. But she wasn't sorry. She was happy, it was her choice. She was doing it because it was what worked for her, and I pitied because I would have wanted something else.
The judgmental nature of women against other women seems to be a perpetual cycle. We know better than to say critical, snarky things to each other. We have nothing to fear, no true reason to compete. I have become guarded against the words of my own mother you're looking good, dear. Loosing some of that tummy finally now huh? And bitter at the words of others, too. Last week a dear friend told me she did hope I wasn't planning on breastfeeding until she was three! I was shocked at her, surprised. I wanted to snap back first it's none of your business how long I breastfeed my baby, but the global average is 7! I had a complete reserve of angry things to say, but she was my friend. I hadn't prepared to use my weapons on a friend, I felt like I needed to dull them first.
So I told her the truth. I'm planning on breastfeeding until she's three, yes. I was breastfed until I was 4. And though my mother made me feel guilty about it throughout my childhood, I think she did it in my best interest.
This battle: how other women feed their babies? It needs to stop. How long your wife decides to nurse your daughter/ son? That battle needs to stop too. Especially when it's founded on words like
shameful
indecent
weird
creepy
nasty
etc
Because really, really, it's just feeding a baby.
The other thing is this- I don't know how long it takes a body to heal from childbirth normally, but I'd expected to be done by now. And the endless litany of complaints I've taken to my midwives is exhausting in itself. Granted, we've not had the easiest time. Little Berry has had Thrush since she was born, and I cannot get her pediatrician to treat it. They keep giving me ridiculous answers, like that yeast doesn't live in your gut...that if there are no signs of it, then she doesn't have it. Their only way of evaluating her is by the white patches in her mouth, and since I have had a running diagnosis of it myself, I know she has it as well. And yes, I have tried everything...
And Europe, we're going to Europe. I've never even flown, but we're going. For goodness knows how long. Maybe six, eight, twelve weeks. Three months. Pappa Starbuck's job search is getting frantic, but surely it will work out. Surely.

Missing the mountains

This past one was a long, long week and I was tired the whole time, but now it's over and "Spring Break" is here. It's the first time we've had a holiday in a

long time that we didn't spend filling out job applications and preparing for interviews. Instead we're sitting at home, working some, thinking about how THIS IS IT and we're enjoying our LAST Spring break, EVER. We also feel a bit like frozen mummy's waiting to hear back about said jobs and are trying to flawlessly transition the little berry girl into cloth diapers
because (yay!) I finally won on that front.

And I, for one, am missing home.

 

Sweetheart,

Pappa Starbucks and I have been struggling lately. I have the enormous interview looming Thursday for a job I am, honestly, only applying to because he's insisting I have to take a job. I know the economy is in the toilet, but I really, really, REALLY can't process the emotions I have regarding leaving Cuppycake. And this job, well, if I get it and he gets it, we'll be OK financially. Well off, even. But if I don't get in, and he does (which he will), or I turn it down, we will struggle. I am not going to lie. We will have to be very, very frugal.
But I have sacrificed so much so far. And I do. not. want. to. leave. her.
Especially not at a daycare. It means, probably, sacrificing my breastfeeding. It means late hours working with students who don't get the help they need elsewhere. It means emotionally struggling to maintain my center of balance, and truly giving up on my relationship because I just resent him so.
He just told me I need to "take a beta blocker and deal with it."
I clearly need something way stronger than a beta blocker at this point.

Just let her cry

At the University where Pappa Starbucks and I are winding down our last semester, there have been some members of the faculty department who genuinely treat us well. And there have been others who treat us, honestly, like crap. I don’t know if it’s insecurity, or they just really don’t like young parents, or they think that we’re loaded and we have it made (We’re not! we don’t, we’re on full need-based scholarships, and I’m the first person in my family to make it through college).
Case in point, we’ve been trying to acquire transfer credit for my physical education course which is required to graduate. I might as well be blunt here and say that I have not recovered from childbirth and, well, things tend to hurt a good bit. We thought the way to go would be to arrange for credit from my first college, where I took the course my first year, to transfer to this college. However, the director of the phys ed program has refused, every time we’ve turned in the forms. Even with all of the proper paperwork and justifications for the course equivalencies, she’s denied it. Mostly, this appears to be for one reason- she’s pregnant with her third child right now, and she’s about 3 weeks from delivery. And she said (to Pappa Starbucks) that she thought I should just go ahead and take the course so I could get my pre-pregnancy body back, as well as the fact that "It didn't take me that long to heal. I think your wife is fine."
Well, as much as I would like my pre-pregnancy body to come back, I would also like to NOT be walking around in constant pain. So I applied for a PE waiver from student health services, where I was required to meet with a particular physician, who didn’t plan on ever giving me the waiver, because:
HER:‘ I've been told you were coming in to see me for a PE waiver. I don't think you have a medical issue but just a time issue. I don't give out PE waivers to students without a real reason, and I can put you in an adaptive PE course.”
Mind you, she never asked a single question about my condition or did an exam. She noted that I was holding the baby and so I could “lift some light weights.”
I thought this would be a good thing, at first. Adaptive PE sounds like it could work. I can get a little exercise but not strain myself. I sent an email to the adaptive PE instructor asking her when the course met and what I needed to do, as well as asking if I could bring my daughter in a sling while I took the course so that when she needed to nurse, I could nurse (because it was supposed to be walking mostly, and since I wear her in a sling when I walk already, why not then?).
Now, I understand that this was me being an optimist. And I didn’t insist on bringing her, I merely asked whether it might be an option, because, well Cuppycake just will not take a bottle. So far we’ve done pretty well balancing my feeding her before going to class, and if she needs to nurse and I am in class my professors have been understanding and on several occasions have allowed me to go meet Pappa Starbucks and take care of her.
But she is anything but an early bird, and this class was at 8am, so I knew trying to get her to nurse before I went would not work. I know some of you are thinking I am lucky here, because for most kids, 8am is late, right? Well, she has never gone to bed at night before 10:30. Most nights, it’s closer to 12:00. And yes, I have tried a million different things but they haven’t worked.
Anyway, this professor evidently hates email, because she sent a reply saying I needed to CALL HER IMMEDIATELY. And I did, but wow. She told me that babies were not allowed in the class, and that if I thought I was going to come into her class and cause trouble I was wrong.
I signed up for the class anyway, and showed up that Monday for it. Pappa Starbucks and Cuppycake were in tow, and he had agreed to wait at the entrance to the building while I took the class, that way if she needed to nurse, I could leave and take care of that.
The professor told me that I needed to ask Pappa Starbucks to leave, because this was my class time and he had his class time and they needed to be separate.
I replied that:
Me: he wasn’t going to bother anyone. He was waiting by the building exit on a different floor than the actual gym.
Her: Excuse me? If you are going to have this kind of attitude, you can just forget about being in my class. I am not a Teaching assistant or a part time employee, I have been teaching this class for 20 years and it is MY BABY.
Me: He is-
Her: OK. PROBLEM. I don’t even think you need to be in this class, it’s for students with REAL health problems and I have already been told by the director that you are trying to cause trouble and that I don’t have to let you in if I don’t want to. Now you need to tell them to leave because there are no babies allowed in this building and breastfeeding is not allowed in here either. I had kids, too, you know. And I breastfed for 3 months. How old is she?
Me: five months old
Her: She needs to be on solids. She doesn’t even need to nurse if she’s that old. Now you can’t be in my class like this. I will fail you and you will not graduate in May. You need to tell him to leave.
Me: If she-
Her: She will be fine for an hour and a half. It’s not that long. She can cry for an hour and a half and be fine.
Me: That’s not your decision to make??!
Her: If you leave my class to nurse I will fail you. I have too many students to be making sure they're all safe and dealing with you, and you don't need this class.

I dropped it. And I got a medical waiver from a physician, so I won't be penalized. what's more is I also dropped a 5 hour course and another 3 hour course I was in. So now I'm only taking 2 classes, YAY!

An update and some fo-toes

Well finally the debacle that was this semester is over. Some of it was awful, but some truly wonderful things happened too. I began classes this year with a four week old babe. And since those of you who have babies know what that did to me, I will leave it at this: I was in serious pain, and I have never felt more depressed in my life than those days when I had to walk out the door and leave my 'Plink' (Cuppycake) behind, screaming because, well, sometimes that's what babies do when they are unhappy.
But by now, I have acclimated to scurrying off to class, though I still don't enjoy it, it doesn't make me want to find a window to leap from.


Exams are over. The holidays are arriving!
Oh yes, exams.
I screwed up a little bit of the fondness one of my professors had for me this year by missing his final exam. To my credit, he rescheduled it (against University policy anyway) without the approval of the Provost's office, and then did not announce the changes via email, or on our course website.
I got to make it up, and it didn't cost my GPA too much because I somehow made a B in the class, so it wasn't that big of a deal in the end. Another professor lost all of my assignments for the year, which was a bummer. We figured it out though.
And Pappa Starbucks and I have not found jobs yet, but we did apply for, research for, plan and interview for (and yes, we got selected!!) a really incredible scholarship that is sending us, all expenses paid, to Ireland in the Spring.
And we're entering our very. last. semester (HALLELUJAH!!) in January.
Today, we are frumping around and fighting as much as we want to, and maybe finally cleaning a little bit, or searching for a few rampant Christmas decorations. I'm making many of the presents this year for nieces, nephews, etc. and there behind me and inspiring me is this book I wanted so long, and two sweet baby dolls are getting their own diaper bags, cloth diapers, rattles, and finger puppets as well as teeny blankets. 'Dorable!

Should be fun, because around here, we usually define "fun" as plucking each other's eyebrows.

Woohoo!

And now, an open letter to my OTHER professor

You, kind sir, should put aside your prejudices of young married students and young parents for three seconds, because right now, you're trying to fail me, which could easily destroy not only my entire college career, and my mission to get a job in this dashed economy, but also you're challenging the future of MY DAUGHTER.
I understand that you have no children of your own, and if you did, you wouldn't have had them while you were still in college.

And yes, I screwed up a lot of things this semester. I don't know how many times I went to class late. Or with spit up all the way down my pants. No, really. And I cut my foot 8 weeks ago, and you know what? It still looks like I did it yesterday. And there were about, well, there was that one time I wrote my paper and turned it in literally at the very.last.minute.
But this just sucks.

You changed the time for our final exam, and scheduled it for reading day. Guess what? Thats against University policy,and even worse, It is NOT listed in the syllabus. It is NOT listed online. And yes, I know we "talked about the exam extensively in class" because well, hell-o, I am a note taker for your course.

If what you want is for me to learn a lesson, great! I'm enlightened. New mothers make mistakes. You don't have to tell me that, I am constantly questioning myself as it is.

I had to go to your class and leave my baby screaming, because she doesn't take a bottle and that means I left her hungry. For hours, to sit in your class and discuss religious movements with a bunch of kids who, quite frankly, were probably freaked out by my gnarled hair and that smell, of baby poo, and who didn't want to be in a group with me anyway.
Add to that how FRICKING hungry I always was, like that one time when I ate all of the snack when it got to me instead of passing it. Sorry, I like calories a lot.

The point here is, I really, truly made a tremendous effort on my hormonal, depressed part, just to show up. And then, you would be showing a movie, and guess what? I really felt like that was a waste of my time. So a couple of times I didn't do the reading. And sometimes, I left early if my husband called and said babe, the baby is a mess. Please come feed her. You know that saying "if a baby is hungry enough, he/she will take a bottle"?
It's crap.
I wonder if you, or your hot-headed TA know what it feels like to have a tiny, helpless person need to eat, and you be the only way they can- ah, of course not.

And well, shit. Today, evidently, I missed. that. final. exam.

Actually, it IS your fault. You should have said "Hey! I changed the date of the final!" which would have been enough. But yeah, I screwed up. And now, well, what the heck am I supposed to do? I don't want to be a complete ass. But I do deserve to take that final.

And if I struggle in the future, it's not because I missed a couple of classes. It's not because I am a bad student, because, sir, I busted my ass this semester, I started classes 4 weeks after having a baby. I haven't had one minute to breathe since then, and you know what? I am still not recovered from her. But I did work hard, and you know it, and you should let me take my final exam, because failing me is pretty over the top.

Best,

your least favorite student.,

Wow, I am loving this new means of avoiding what I really should be working on...

An open letter to my professor

Dear professor

This assignment really changed the way that I have understood this subject. I feel rather silly telling you this, but this is quite possibly the most ‘impactful’ project I have ever done.
That being said, it made me absolutely, completely, overwhelmingly angry. You can blame it on my hormones because it’s very likely that they contributed, but there is more to it than that. At the beginning of the project, I was truly excited. I chose a photo based on aesthetics really, because I saw a photo of a young woman holding a young child. I identified with her, I liked her even. I didn’t grapple with her station, I didn’t think “they’re all slaves, so it doesn’t matter”- I thought “this woman is beautiful! She is holding a little baby! She must have been happy!”
Ultimately, I am displeased with my project. I didn’t reach any grand conclusions, any ‘epiphanic’ realizations. I learned more than I have ever learned doing a single project before, but I felt that anything I learned, and any great research I came across was completely dimmed by the life of this woman.
I was wrong when I first looked at her. The life of this woman was likely anything but happy. The reason this woman looks so unhappy, sitting and holding a tiny white child is probably because her dignity was constantly stepped upon, and just holding another woman’s child will never be enough to erase that. No matter how pretty the baby is.
However: this project was good for me on many, many levels. I will never approach slavery the same way as I did before, as a time line. In my research, I read story after story of women who had to put a tiny white child before their own: and while it is good perhaps to put others before yourself, to sacrifice for the good of others, this should never extend into the realm of motherhood, which I believe is sacred.
I suppose the project changed the lens through which I view slavery: one of the first pieces of literature I read when I began researching told me that ‘domestic slaves were treated better than other slaves, and they had special privileges.’ So I thought I was on the track to learn about a sort of chasm within slavery that wasn’t really ‘slavery’- you know, where you get to sit and play with a baby all day, one that wasn’t brutal, and wasn’t an instrument of abuse.
I was surprised, then, when most of the rest of my research contradicted this, and I was faced with an image that contradicted that- and then I got angry. I want to reach back through the decades and rectify it. But I cannot, and I am left wondering if there was something in the water. “They must have ‘drunk the Kool-Aid’” I think.
It’s simple, easy to dismiss it that way. To assume that it is because there is something wrong with people that racism exists today, and that there was deeply something ‘wrong’ with people who owned slaves, who regularly beat their slaves to keep them “accustomed to being whipped.” It’s not this easily dismissed from my mind though, and the dh has been truly frustrated with me for the energy I’ve put into thinking about this. After all, I have three projects and two more paper due this week, and I’m always late to my classes because the baby nurses and nurses and nurses, and I can’t just bring her to class. But if I put this down now, and step away from it, I won’t ever be able to completely understand it. I must push through the uncomfortable things I’ve read and read some more.
I am still angry, but I am going to continue reading. I didn’t reach any understanding that I could neatly put away and say “now I understand it,” and I will probably always be uncomfortable with it, but because I feel like it is important, not just for me as a person, but for me as a mother, and a daughter/wife/sister, to challenge the way I feel about this.
I’m probably still wrong, but I wanted to thank you for this project. I am fairly certain my research revealed the same old ideas, and you will be unimpressed. But know that this changed my understanding, and I'm sitting here thinking "you set me up for this!"- Thank you.