xoxo,
stefanie

This post was written for inclusion in the monthly Carnival of Natural Parenting hosted by Code Name: Mama and Hobo Mama.

Please read to the end to find a list of links to the other carnival participants.

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A certain newborn may be faulted for our procurement of a 2009 holiday tree at what some might call the last possible second — Christmas Eve — but in actuality I think we could’ve managed a trip to the tree lot if there’d been some kind of pre-set plan. A presumed time with corresponding stop at cute cafe and a swing by the most festive neighborhood lights display before heading home to drink cocoa in our matching Hanna Andersson jammies. Also, you know, two-thirds of us are Jewish, so this may not have been a realistic scenario. But you get the idea.

Since George has been alive, I’ve put my holiday planning into overdrive which, to me, is really intense but, to you, might look significantly…um, less so. Not impressed by that L’Shana Tovah banner I hung in the front window for Rosh Hashanah, eh? Well, I tried.

This year, we’ve persevered despite having a two week-old sapping our energy as one of our thirtieth birthdays passed by and realizing the night before Thanksgiving that we may not have money to buy the makings for the standard Macy’s Parade-watching quiche (we scraped it together). But, do I want George to be a part of a make-it-work-with-a-little-felt-and-a-WIC-check kind of family? Little by little, we’re getting it in gear and I’m pleased to report that Hanukkah has been our best showing yet. Homemade food, homemade gifts, thoughtfulness in the place/face of blatant consumerism and as much family time as we could muster with a papa who works two jobs. That said, our biggest, most tradition-y effort still lies ahead.

I’ve talked a little bit about George’s naming ceremony, or brit shalom, in the past, but it, like his first birthday, always seemed a loooooong ways off. We chose a name to honor a very special lady, picked a date for the party and made the invitations, and even THEN its imminence didn’t sink in. We’re now at T minus about two weeks, and I am staring down the barrel of the first culturally significant milestone of my baby’s life. An event steeped in tradition. And meaning. And I’m a floppy felt banner in the window sort of mom.

This was all giving me a serious case of the worries until one of our dear friends said something that I know resonated with, well… everyone in the room at the time, because it applied to all of us in different ways. Your children won’t remember that you’re poor; they’ll remember that you loved them. Will George look back on photos of his naming ceremony and birthday party and think, “Wow! What a tiny, crappy house! And you couldn’t spring for a real mohel?”? Or will he see all the friends and family? Will he see the homemade food and decorations for the loving contributions they were? I needed to check myself and stop reading so many design blogs.

The facts are these: We aren’t wealthy. We aren’t organized. We aren’t a traditional family. But we’re creative, and as I assembled and addressed the invitations to George’s naming ceremony and birthday party this evening, I took heart in that. Because some years, we might not get a tree until Christmas Eve. We might have fettuccine alfredo for Thanksgiving dinner and make Purim costumes out of the Goodwill bag. But I’d bet money that in the pictures, we’ll be smiling. And that’s a tradition I can get behind.

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Visit Code Name: Mama and Hobo Mama to find out how you can participate in the next Carnival of Natural Parenting!

Please take time to read the submissions by the other carnival participants:

• Traditions? What traditions? — Olivia at Write About Birth needs your advice: how can she make the most of the holiday season in a new country with only her immediate family? (@writeaboutbirth)
• TRADITION!!!!!! — Ella at My Intentional Journey reminds us all to be thankful for family traditions; there are those who have none.
• tradition! — Stefanie at Very, Very Fine came to realize that families can make incredible memories, even if they’re not wealthy (or organized).
• Taking a child’s perspective on traditions — Lauren at Hobo Mama wants to keep in mind how important even the mundane traditions will be to her little ones. (@Hobo_Mama)
• Sunday Dinners and Lullabies — Kat at Loving {Almost} Every Moment finds traditions in the small things throughout the year.
• Simple Family Advent Traditions — Michelle at The Parent Vortex crafted a set of advent bags with daily surprises to eat and to do. (@TheParentVortex)
• Parenting: Family Meetings – A Timeless Tradition — Amy Phoenix at Innate Wholeness discusses a year-round tradition in her household: Family Meetings. (@InnateWholeness)
• Our Mindful Holidays — They may not be “traditional” traditions, but they fit the family of Kellie at Our Mindful Life.
• Our Holiday Traditions, New and Old — Even with three young children, Kristin at Intrepid Murmurings is finding ways to be intentional and meaningful about holiday traditions. (@sunfrog)
• Our Cupcake Custom — Amy at Anktangle knows celebrations need minimal excuse and lots of cupcakes! (@anktangle)
• On the bunny slope of tradition-making — Jessica Claire at Crunchy-Chewy Mama is finding her groove as a holistic-minded mama with a joyful holiday spirit. (@crunchychewy)
• No, Virginia, There Is Not a Santa Claus — Just because her family is not going to do Santa, does not mean that Sheila at A Gift Universe can’t instill some mystery and magic into Christmas. (@agiftuniverse)
• New Traditions — Becky at Future Legacy shares a few traditions she is starting for her family, including popovers, a birthday banner, and service.
• My Holiday Family Traditions — The Artsymama continues a long tradition of adopting family members and sharing two favorite games that work well for a crowd.
• Mindfully Creating Family Traditions — Alison at BluebirdMama has ideas for celebrating birthdays, Valentine’s Day, and Christmas — though her family’s still figuring some of it out. (@bluebirdmama)
• Memorable Traditions — Lori Ann at MamaWit follows four mindful steps when instituting any tradition.
• Let’s Talk Traditions — Lily, aka Witch Mom shares her family’s traditions that are centered on the wheel of the year. (@lilyshahar)
• Homeschool Christmas — Deb Chitwood at Living Montessori Now did not always celebrate the Christmas season in the same way with her family, but they always celebrated together. (@DebChitwood)
• Holidays, food and family — For Kristen at Adventures in Mommyhood, the holidays are about family and food. (@crunchymamato2)
• Giving Christmas to the Critter — Rachael at The Variegated Life has found a way to tie her Zen practices to the Christmas story of the baby in the manger. (@RachaelNevins)
• Family Traditions + To Santa Or Not To Santa — Stop by Natural Parents Network to discover some of the traditions from other natural parents. NPN is also featuring snippets of posts from NP bloggers on the topic of whether to encourage children to believe in Santa Claus. (@NatParNet)
• Family Tradition Origins — Momma Jorje discusses her family’s traditions, and her desire not to make anyone feel obligated to conform to them.
• Everyday Traditions — For Mandy at Living Peacefully with Children it’s the small, daily traditions that make life special.
• Establishing Traditions and Older Child Adoption — MrsH at Fleeting Moments is trying to find ways to start traditions with a family that was made very quickly through birth and adoption.
• Emerging Family Traditions — Melodie at Breastfeeding Moms Unite! shares some of her favorite birthday and Christmas traditions. (@bfmom)
• Does Rebellion Count? — Seonaid at the Practical Dilettante has instituted a day of rest and PJs at her house on Christmas. (@seonaid_lee)
• December Carnival of Natural Parenting: Family Traditions — Sybil at Musings of a Milk Maker tries to give her girls a mix of traditions to foster togetherness — but worries that not being near extended family is a disconnect.
• Craft-tea Christmas Celebrations — Lucy at Dreaming Aloud created a delicious Christmas tradition that she named “Craft-tea.”
• A Christmas Tradition — Luschka at Diary of a First Child knows that even though she won’t be able to have her usual holiday traditions this year, the important thing is that she has her family. (@lvano)
• Celebrations without the Holiday — Asha at Meta Mom shares several ways to celebrate the winter holidays without focusing on religious traditions. (@metamomma)
• Celebrating the Journey We Have Traveled Together — Acacia at Be Present enjoys the chance to draw closer to her family during the Christmas holiday.
• Celebrating Motherhood — Do you celebrate the day you became a mother? Dionna at Code Name: Mama offers some ideas for traditions to mark your passage into motherhood. (@CodeNameMama)
• Celebrate! Winter Traditions Brought Home. — At True Confessions of a Real Mommy, TrueRealMommy and her family are celebrating many different religions and traditions this month. Stop by to see their schedule of events. (@TrueRealMommy)
• “Always Ready”, Holiday Style — Amy at Toddler In Tow discovered that it’s not the traditions themselves, but the emotional experience behind them that makes them special.

That morning, my body’s efficiency — my own innate and unwavering knowledge of what to do (or what to allow my body to continue doing) amazed me. Being so totally powerless to biology, to oneself isn’t something I’d have guessed I’d enjoy, but I got out of that birthing tub feeling like I could do it all again, immediately, and love it just as much. My birth experience was a lucky one: short, comfortable, in the most perfect venue I could imagine (can you think of a hospital that would welcome an already-pushing woman with a warm bath, dim lights and candles? Or a home birth you don’t have to clean up [yes, this heavily influenced my decision; I am lazy]? Didn’t think so.). Of course, the luckiest part of my birth was the result: the tiny, bald grouch we got to take home.

Every day of motherhood, at least so far, is different. Some are so good I feel almost as triumphant as I did when they first plopped George onto my chest and I knew I had done it. But those days wouldn’t be so great without the converse: the sleep-deprived, rainy, shit-on-your-clothes days when you’re begging an infant, please, just tell me what to do. I’ve found, though, that despite the insistence that I’d forget childbirth — the “so the species can go on” half-joke that serves only as one of many sexist scare tactics pregnant women and mothers face — what I’m forgetting instead are those regrettable, difficult why-won’t-you-end days, in favor of the wins.

This year, I’ve gotten to know myself in a different way. I’ve become less self-conscious in order to be present with my child. I’ve made stupid faces and funny noises and sung in public and been (mostly) unconcerned with how I look to all but one little person. I’ve changed my expectations, let my sleep, my free time and my body be temporarily hijacked. And, you know what? I’m doing a good job. He’s a happy, loving, trusting, communicative, confident boy. Not afraid to make friends with strangers, proficient signer who’s finding his words, giver of unsolicited kisses, giggler and enthusiastic try-er of anything.

The way we all begin is common by definition, and in the past I may have been tempted to apologize for parenthood’s inherent cliché, but having a child has given me an appreciation for our individualities, for the fact that we each have a story. George’s started a year ago and I’m a lucky sucker for getting to be a part of it every day. Celebrating birthdays is one of my favorite things to do, and this is the big one. The big One.

Happy birthday, chicken. I love you the most.

(black and white photos by Tiffany Burke. Hire her; she rules.)

Don’t answer that. The Santa at Yeager’s ruled.

Coming soon!

p.s. is that the most adorable Hanukkah present or what?

I was about to burst, we kind of half-assed it. My celebratory glass of wine put me right to sleep.

This year, we were (almost) totally ready at sunset. Presents wrapped, food cooking, baby’s new mama-made kippah loosely attached to whatever wispy hairs we could snag.

George helped to light the candles. He ate some of the challah we ran all over town to find this afternoon.
Mama got a new calendar; Papa got a new coat.

We learned that one of us doesn’t like couscous

But really likes paper bags.

This Hanukkah, when we celebrate miracles, I am most thankful that this — my commonplace — feels so miraculous.

thumbs up for hanukkah

Happy Holidays.

Regardless of how shitty that lady was, the sting of disappointment is harsh when you’ve worked hard on something that isn’t well received. It can feel like a personal affront; your choices and efforts are entrenched much deeper in a handmade present than one bought in a store. And sometimes that fact falls on deaf ears…or into unappreciative hands.

When I was pregnant with George, I told my mother — a longtime smoker — that she could not continue to smoke and have a relationship with my child. As a child myself, my parents’ smoking was a constant embarrassment and nuisance. Like when you give someone a homemade gift (George is, afterall, about as homemade as gifts get), the gift my mom got in her grandson was not customizable after-the-fact or exchangeable for another size or color. But the gift she got was good. The only appropriate reaction, in my book, is akin to mine when I was given my first, beautiful handknitted wool sweater: what do I have to do to keep this gift as perfect as it was the day I got it?

My mother’s reaction was… not that. Over the past year and a half, she has lied about giving up smoking, told me the cigarettes in front of her weren’t hers, insisted the smell on her clothes wasn’t smoke, and snuck away during Thanksgiving festivities to light up in the bathroom, bringing with her upon her return a foul stench that required my entire family to bathe when we got home. Before we could collapse into bed with a tired infant whose sling also reeked of cigarettes, who was exposed to third-hand smoke for an entire day. And that was my last straw.

I love my mother. We have our issues, most of which revolve around situations just like this one, wherein she has sold me out in favor of someone or something more important to her. But there will be no selling out of my kid, and I didn’t hesitate for one hot second when I called to say we’d made it home through the snow to add that until she stops smoking, she will not have the privilege of seeing George. Because she’s setting a bad example. And even if you don’t believe the studies about third-hand smoke, I’m pretty sure we can all agree that a baby should not smell like cigarettes.

I wish I could say that my mom’s reaction was a hearty hey-whatever-it-takes-because-I-love-that-kid. But it wasn’t. And my feeling was similar to the one you get as you watch your friend or family member’s face go from I’m-opening-a-present-this-rules! to ummm, WTF? when they peel back the tissue paper on your homemade table runner and matching napkin rings. But, like I’ve had to do with people who felt my gifts missed the mark, I’m letting go of my mom’s complete lack of appreciation for what she’s been given. If she chooses to throw it out, that’s entirely up to her.

You’re under the weather, lately. Getting some molars, disagreeing with kiwi, sleeping funny and copping major attitudes.

You’ve started pushing me away when I’ve pissed you off, smacking me in the face for taking away whatever it was you wanted to put in your mouth.

Sometimes it drives me crazy. Nobody likes getting slapped in the face. But this newfound will of yours makes the times you reach for me, the unsolicited fly-by kisses, the resting of your head on my knee that much sweeter.

You shake your head yes and no. You greet the cats every morning when we (finally) get up and around with an “at, at, AT!” When you think we’ve missed your emphatic ‘all done’ sign, you garble it — “AHH DAA!” You say ma ma mamamamama. You gag on anything sweet.

You are my favorite and my best and I can’t wait to hear what else you have to say.

Happy eleven months.
Love,
mama

Oh well; they are.

To make them, I used felt scraps and freehanded the numbers, used quilting cotton scraps in interesting or pretty patterns for the backs, and white fleece for the fronts. The synthetic fleece isn’t my ideal material, but I wanted something kind of tactile and substantial. Also, I had some lying around. The truth comes out!

I used cheap, nutritionally void white rice for the filling. Lentils would also be nice, or popcorn. They’re not all the same size and they’re admittedly a little wonky, but I think they’ll be fun to play with. Once George gets out of his mouthing phase, I’ll probably make him some, too. For this project, all I had to buy was the rice; if you’re a sewer, you can probably do the same, as these don’t necessitate any particular material other than hole-less (and if you’re mainly sewing with mesh, I’m gonna bet you don’t have children).

Happy birthday, little lady. I hope your bean bags bring you hours of happy play. And happy birthing day, mama. So far, so good.