The Checks of Shame

I receive WIC.  Women, Infants, and Children (WIC) is a government-subsidized program designed to help low income families pay for groceries, promote health and breast feeding. You can sign up when you are pregnant and stay enrolled if your income is still low enough to qualify, until your child is 5. I have been on WIC with both my kids. I got it when I was first pregnant with Sweet pea and now I get it with Pickle. Apparently my mom used to get WIC back in the day when I was little. WIC has been a great breastfeeding support system for me. They gave me a free electric breast pump and all the pump parts right after having Pickle. While I am super grateful that I get a significant discount on groceries every month I often wonder at what cost. 

WIC is not a delightful experience. Because the government subsidizes WIC, the food is very specific, down to the ounces of how much you can get of one thing. WIC allows only generic brands, nothing quality, just the basics. This specificity leads to many mistakes. In the beginning I would screw up all the time. A 16oz loaf of bread can be hard to find. There is no handy swipe card, in Oklahoma you get big checks with the items written out on them. In the 2 years that we have been on WIC since moving here I have had a total of one pleasant, pain free interaction when using WIC. As I am writing this I can't believe it either. Really, just one in two years!

I have come to call WIC the checks of shame. “Time to go do my checks of shame shopping!” I shout as I leave the house on Monday with a sarcastic grin across my face.

There I am, scanning the aisles trying to find the shortest line with the most competent looking cashier. I have tried to strategize when I go WIC shopping to avoid a long impatient line behind me. In the middle line, is a free space, I wedge my cart in. Time to put on my sing, song, happy go lucky voice as I hand over my checks. “I am doing WIC first. “ I say calmly. The cashier is an older woman who already looks terrified. I remember to put my cloth shopping bags in front and let the bagger know to fill them all the way up. I often end up with 4 plastic bags at the end, even when I bring my own bags. Oklahoma still has not figured out yet that I bring bags because I don’t want plastic.

I cheerily put forward my WIC items, cleanly separated out, meticulously scrutinized for the proper ounces and brands. I think maybe this time it will go smoothly. I give her the first check, the easy one.  All there is on this check is milk, eggs, bread and PB. She spends a lot of time clicking buttons before she has to call her supervisor over to remind her how to do WIC. I wait patiently. I try to coach her on what to push, since I have watched every mistake ever done by a cashier. I point at another cashier I recognize in the line over and say, “she can help, she has helped me before. “ No dice, guess I should have noticed her line before this one. The supervisor comes, does a quick tutorial and we are back in business. First check down, I am in good spirits, than I go in for the kill. $12 of fruits and vegetables. According to my mini WIC encyclopedia I get to have fresh produce, it can be organic vegetables, pre-washed greens, all $12 worth for a month! Maybe for some $12 of produce is significant but for our family it barely buys 2 meals. Still free food, is free food, so I put down the check and wait. A calm before the storm.

The cashier starts up her process then after the first vegetable she rings up, it says, this is not a WIC item. She tells me flatly “This is not a WIC item.” Like every other week I get out my mini encyclopedia and explain to her that yes, any and all vegetable and fruit are game for my $12. She calls the supervisor over again. This time I am getting hot around the face. I now have 2 other folks behind me, “this will be awhile” I tell the women behind me. She does not budge. Then I realize I recognize the other women behind her. It’s a friend. This friend is probably one of the best people to run into in this scenario.  She and her family are chill and sweet people who are thoughtful in trying situations. I am trying to play it cool as we wait. We start chatting about the church we both go to. Its pleasant but I am also distracted by how long this is taking. I am really heating up by the time the supervisor arrives and saves the day with his “special card.” She can now finish ringing up my $12 of produce.

One more complication arises. I got too many vegetables. In this case often the cashier will just add my extra veggies to my non-WIC items. Only this cashier really did not know what she was doing. She wanted cash. I reach into my wallet and hand over $5. That was supposed to go to something else. It sucks that money is so tight $5 feels like too much to give.

I say thank you, say goodbye to my friend, and wheel out into the spring air. It is when I get to my car I realize the bagger switched halfway though that transaction and gave me 3 plastic bags. I get in my car and cry.
At least once a month I come home crying after a WIC trip. The mark of being low-income stings. It’s so confusing and hard I often wish we did not qualify for it at all.

But we do, and until we do not qualify I cannot see any way of not taking the free food.

From Hyperbole and A Half Blog

The Burning Hot Nanas

There is a "gentleman’s club" my daughter and I pass on the way to her Pre-K. It is a place right in the middle of a busy, family oriented neighborhood strip. Her dance school is a few blocks down, its surrounded by a vet office, plant nursery, restaurant and violin shop. I don't know how the club came to be there but there it is, right in our faces as we drive from point A to point B. I find the place sleazy & do my best to ignore it.

One day my very observant Pre-K kid asked me about the place. "Mama, why is there a picture of burning hot nanas on that building?" (nanas is a friendly term for breasts we used when she was breast feeding, pronounced nah-nahs.) The strip club has its name emblazoned on a red sign with women's nude torsos engulfed in flames. This is it, that horrible moment where I have to decide how to explain to my daughter the exploitation of women in our culture. I rack my brain for the most simplified response I can imagine. "Well, honey, the person that owns that business put up that sign. What do you think of that sign?" a pause from the back seat, "I don't like it." Neither do I honey." Another pause, then she says, "We should tell them to take it down. " I said “yes that is a great idea."

After our talk I was motivated and ready to put pen to paper and give this business a piece of my mind! But by the time we got home a million other thoughts had swept through my head and we were onto the next thing. We pass by this place a few times a week. Since  the initial conversation Sweetpea sometimes notices the nanas and sometimes does not.  When she does notice she says. "I don't like that sign, let’s tell them to take it down." I have told her to not look if it bothers her. I have told her yes it bothers me too and I agree we should ask to have it taken down. Finally after many excuses I told her we will write to them she just needs to remind me when we are home and by paper and pen.


I started to get a daily reminder, "Remember mama to write to the place with the burning hot nana sign." This reminder comes to me in the same vein as " Remember to take out the garbage." I tuck her into bed and she reminds me to write the place with the burning hot nana sign. I am fixing her snack and she reminds me again. Its incredible how something so intense and confusing as talking about sexual exploitation of women has become such a run of the mill conversation in my home.

One night I finally set the wheels in motion and started the letter. I am tired of feeling worn down by offensive media. I am tired of accepting the BS that says this world is just crappy and we can't do anything about it.  Even if they don't take down the sign I know it’s important to write the letter. It’s important because I want to show my daughter that we can try to make change. She needs to know that we can state our opinions no matter what. Also, that stating her opinion makes things better. In my ideal world there would not even be a strip club my daughter and I would have to interact with. Confronting the burning hot nanas is giving us a chance to say what we want in our community with our voices. This is a powerful step against sexism and towards empowerment even if the nanas continue to burn.

Foot note: To all women/mothers working in the biz and ex-sex workers this is not about what you do. We all have to make money and for some this is the most reliable option. I salute you in your efforts to pay bills and raise families as a female in this society. We are all in this together.

   

  

The Value Of Adventure

Recently a fellow mom friend and I were talking. We were discussing all the amazing adventures we had in our young adult lives. We longed for that fresh-eyed perspective of youth, having new ground to walk on, new people to talk to and new sensory experiences that drew us to the present. As we have both gotten older, we have chosen to have families and the days of wild abandon had shifted. We missed that aspect of ourselves. 

By, Rosa Mund-Zander

As much as we were happy with the lives we had chosen, that need for adventure was sadly neglected. We talked about the realities of being lower income and money going to meet the basic needs of our family. We also talked about how it’s different adventuring with small children and or your partner, trying to meet everyone's needs and your own at the same time.

The conversation boiled down to we both felt like we did not have enough adventure, and how it was a value of ours. Re framing adventure as a value suddenly made this big ever present desire in me spark to life. I have spent a lot of my motherhood down playing this need of mine. It is always last on the list of what we need to put energy or money toward. My husband has been a huge stumbling block in the way of this value. He does not mean to be. He just feels that one of us has to be the practical one in this regard, so he takes on that role. It has been a source of discontentment sense we became parents. 

By, James Richards for wanderarti blog

Usually the conversation goes like this:" let’s go somewhere fun this year! I want to see our friends in the NW." To which he replies, "We can't afford that." "There are all different ways to travel, what about frequent flyer miles etc." "We need to pay off debt before we can go into more debt." Most of the time I feel ashamed of this desire, like I am not putting the needs of my family first. Why would I want to do something as frivolous as travel?

By re framing adventures into a value I looked at the situation differently. If I don't have fresh perspective, my creativity suffers. I become more jaded and melancholy. I can't enjoy the experiences in front of me as easily. I parent better when I have fresh eyes and new experiences under my belt. I can share this value with my children, and they see the spark of life in their mom and get excited too.

I am a restless soul and adventure is an important thing to honor in myself. By hiding this need I am hiding a big part of the magic that is me and I am not ok with that.

By, Candace Rardon on Wanderarti blog

So how do you do it? I am still figuring that out. It started with a big conversation with my husband. I let him know adventures were a value of mine and I could not neglect it even though money is very tight. Just saying this out loud helped to get the conversation going. I have also made a list of the adventures I want to have this year. These are my heart felt intentions and goals. I am not sure how they will happen, but just setting the intention makes me feel excited.

I am also narrowing my focus on what are things I see as necessary places to go, verses any whim or passion. I am assembling a list of local adventures to keep fresh eyes on the place I am living now. When I read about a new ethnic restaurant or market, it goes on to the list.  When I hear about a neat hiking trail, a good swimming hole or camping spot, they all go on the list. I also keep a list of adventures I want to have with the family and what I want to do alone or with friends. It is so good to prioritize self-adventures where I only have to meet my needs. Also to be ready for a family adventure knowing it will look different and be about the needs of all of us.

Seeing the value in adventures is leading me to show myself more while being a mom. It’s a win win.

The Life And Death Of A Friend

Recently, a good friend of mine died. She was a mother of two, a fierce and insightful being that decided to take her own life. Two weeks after the horror and shock of this event I have been left in a pondering stage of grief.  Thinking about what all she lost by leaving us to soon and what I still have to learn about her. I also think about odd things like what she is missing by not having a body on this earth any longer. How she doesn't have to deal with this crazy world we live in anymore. The two mass shootings in the US this week, who to vote for president next year, what exactly climate change will do to us in Tulsa. All those intense and complicated things she does not have to deal with any longer.

She created a ripple in our community. I would not call her a community leader, but deeply embedded in the alternative circles we both tended to hang out in. She was an artist and a healer and shared her talents with us through tarot readings, massage, kundalini yoga and sexual awareness workshops for women. She thought it was a tragedy that there were some women that had never experienced an orgasm and wanted to help all women claim this magical right.

Our relationship was separate from any circle. We did not meet through friends, it was at an art opening where we recognized that spark of commonality. Our kids became fast friends and that made us get closer. We bonded over living in the NW and being transplants to the mid-south. we shared hippi alternative view points. Our values were aligned in connecting ourselves and our kids to nature, eating fermented foods, making art and living a life in the counter culture.

At her memorial they had on display some of her things. In the eulogy our minister spoke of her being an avid collector. Having real style and sensuality. One of her friends was quoted with saying "It was like being with an angel who got kicked out of heaven for making a lewd joke." That was her in all her glory.

I also wonder what I could have done to prevent this from happening. I know it was not in my hands but I do think of the ways I was passive about her addiction issues. How I waited for her to come to me instead of being an active helper. How I watched her family go through transition after transition and felt paralyzed to help them. I saw her get more in debt and feel helpless in her situation. Held captive by the restrains of capitalism, being a parent and a free spirit.

By Jenny Armitage

At her eulogy I learned so much about her history I never knew. There are still many mysteries that now will only be brought to light with the stories of the ones who knew her. This experience has made me value all the parts of my story and how I don't want to wait till I am dead for people to know who I really am.

We are left with holding onto her family, her loved ones she left behind. Her daughter and son have to have a community of mothers and I am now one of them. I will continue to learn her story and not let her life fade into the past.

Tales of The Part Time Working Mom

This seems like the ideal set up. In a lot of ways it is. Part time working moms get the best of both worlds. We get a fist full of life outside the home and a baby and kid to coo over all afternoon when work is finished. We can wipe clean our workday and see our kids with fresh eyes and perspective as they enter into the wider world beyond our home cocoon. 

More income is coming into the household, not a lot of income in my case but something to help with the daily round. My kids get to see me more then they would if I worked full time. I actually miss them in a day verses being so overloaded with parenting I am ready to ditch as soon as my co-parent arrives home.  I have time to pick them up from school or day care, hear about the day and go home to some play, dinner prep, down time and nursing. I get to role model for my girls a confident mama in the world taking on big projects with her family alongside her. Recently Sweetpea told me she wanted to work at the Botanic garden when she grew up. I have a reason to get dressed up in the morning, wash my nice clothes and throw a huge spit rag over it all in hopes I won't be blurped on before I get to work.

Our minds are filled with the details of our jobs as well as the details that make the engine of a family running steady. My partner shares the parenting load more. Home life and work life are split up and we both play an integral role in each place. A level of respect and harmony floats around us when I have a moment to notice it. 

I have others looking after my young ones who love, respect and care for them. I use the mantra it takes a village to raise a child and trust my babies are taken care of and its good for them to experience life and culture with more then just me and daddy. There is energy in the part time working mamas home. An energy of accomplishment, being present and a little bit of chaos. Two non-profit jobs cannot hire a cleaning person so we settle for a bit of dirt and clutter that gets scurried away when we have a party or friends over for dinner. 

Part time work has a lot of pros but like most life choices it is also not as dreamy as it seems.  The part time worker is not paid as well. We get no benefits except the benefit of more time with our family. We forgo a lot of self-time for work time. Creativity is an after thought that lives burning in my heart and only get touched upon occasionally. As a women and mother I often put the needs of my family or job first and suffer from not being authentic to the creative well within. Exercise only sometimes happens and usually involves taking an unwilling kid along. As a part time worker my experience is so unique. So many other part time workers have such a varied experience. Some work from home, or have to take the office with them everywhere. Some are on call, some have their own business. It’s a hard way to relate to others experience when the experience can look so vastly different. We are all united on having kids and making some money at the work we do but the similarities often stop there.

 There is no handy acronym for the part time working mom, not SAHM or working mom, you are kind of a hybrid. Finding good, affordable childcare that caters to working parents as well as SAHM is rough too. Full time day cares are too expensive and not what I want but part time day cares like mothers day out only sort of work and are full of SAHM so you feel a little isolated as a worker in their midst. 

Going from SAHM to working mom was a huge shift as well. I constantly compare my experience with my first to my second and try to measure up to what I did the first time around. I cannot be there for everything with Little Pickle and it is heart breaking. At the same time it is relieving to have more income and knowing she is being well taken care of by others so I can also do important work in the world.

As a part time working mom you feel the urge and pressure to do everything a SAHM does but half the time to do it. You want to take on the PTA and volunteer projects at the school, you want to make muffins and have long kid directed play times after school. You have the expectation that you can get all the housework done and dinner ready every evening. But there is just not enough time for it all. So it happens in chunks. Chunks of self-care used for writing dates and calling up dear friends to talk. Going to interesting events around town. Time to snuggle up with your husband and watch a show in the 2 hours between when the kids fall asleep and when it’s your time to turn in. Chunks of time and patience are key to well being. 

I salute you fellow PTWM! You are kicking butt on so many levels, now stop and give your self a much needed bath and book date.          

Working Mama

Last Friday I put my baby into the loving arms of her Cece and pulled away from the parking lot crying my eyes out. I am now officially a working mama again. I spent all week prepping for the day. Having stress dreams. Trying to pump everyday, buying that just in case can of formula, and generally worrying about missing my little one, leaving her when she is so young, the guilt, etc. etc. So yes there were a lot of tears and fears but Little Pickle ultimately was fine. She was with grandma all day and grandma did beautifully. Filling me in with reports about feeding and pooping and smiling awake time.

I dutifully pumped my milk with two breaks in an 8-hour period. Though I was only able to pump 12 ounces at the end of the day. Sense I was not sure how much she would eat when I was away I felt like a failure. The added guilt of being a mom of two and comparing how I did it with the first did not help. I went back to work when Sweetpea was 2 ½ and breast-fed her till then. Though it was great being able to be full time with Sweetpea as a baby it was also super hard on our family. We were barely making it and stressed often about how we would be able to live on one income. I vowed to do things differently with our second child and I also already had this great job going into pregnancy this time around.

The milk production was also fine. I came home and had several bags of milk still in the fridge. 12 ounces is about what she eats when she is away from me. Success!!

By Alison Bechdel

 Day two was easier. She was home with daddy, I knew she would have enough milk it was ok. I still cried when I left her but I was not pining for my baby the way I felt the first day. It was kind of nice to miss her and be so excited to see her at the end of the day. When I got home I rubbed her soft elbows and knees, I smelled her head and breast-fed her. I strapped her on and had a dance party with Sweetpea while daddy went and had some self-time. I bought easy food to make for dinner those two days so there would be no resentments about dinner being made. I also ate a protein bar and chugged water on the way home to make sure I was in a good and ready place upon arrival.

By Jenn Borton

Work was busy and easy to take over my mind. When it got slow later in the day I kept my eye on the prize, I am making money so my family can live, so we can not get into anymore debt so we can pay the bills, get groceries and car gas. This made me happy to know I can provide for them. It is also good for me to be a part of something out side the home. To tend to my creative mind in programming at the garden, to go for quiet walks on the property, to be the PR face of a place I believe in and get to make people excited about. My work is not always glamorous, it does not pay amazingly well, sometimes its really annoying answering the same questions over and over but it still meets a creative need within me and is also ever changing making me more inventive and flexible.

I staggered going back to work 15 hours in August then 30 onward. We are on the cusp of having all of Little Pickles childcare worked out for fall, which leads me to feeling more grounded about it. There is an ocean of change occurring within our home but we are good at change, we are an adaptable family. Before she was born I saw Little Pickle weaving her way smoothly into our family culture. I read about early sleep teaching and had a plan to be more relaxed with this one. Our Little Pickle has done exceedingly well working by our side. She knows where she belongs and I am so thankful for this.

To V-bac or Not to V-bac

I am 3 1/2 weeks out from my due date. I have grown progressively bigger and bigger reaching epic proportions, my belly hangs low, I am feeling some of the tired and queasy feelings from the first tri-master creep in as I wait for the baby to come. I am perfectly happy to have this baby do a full gestation, there is still more to do like cleaning, hospital bag, food calendar, car seat installation but it would also be fine if baby came tomorrow. I would be prepared either way. I am a seasoned mom I know what to expect in the beginning and just how hard it all is. Its nice doing this the second time around, less fear of the un-known, more confidence a plan laid out before me that I know could change at any time.

I used to think I was an intuitive person. I seemed to have a somewhat psychic sense of when things were going to happen, an inner dial attuned to the subtleties of the future and what lay ahead. All of this went out the window when I had Sweetpea. Leading up to her due date and the 2 weeks she gestated past her due date I thought, "Today is the day I will birth my child. It will happen like this, this is the way." I got in the birthy zone, I had lots of contractions but the contractions would always die down and peter out. Nothing was like I thought it would be. The whole birth was a tale, which I have told earlier in this blog, complete with a hospital induction (cytotec), many hours of painful active labor and finally a 15 min. rush to surgery during transition.

My cesarean was probably the best cesarean one could have. It was sad to have to do it but it all went really smoothly. I was with a nurse I liked and had been with sense the beginning. It was so quick! 15 min. after being in labor for two days! They took her out cleaned her up and handed her to me within 5 min. She was with me the whole time; daddy was their and my midwife. There are some pictures; baby was healthy and nursed quickly like a champ after self-attaching in our room post birth. It was a little sad not to have daddy cut the cord but we were so in the present moment with getting her safely out we hardly noticed.

This time around we have two birth plans, one for cesarean and one for a natural labor. (Both include daddy cutting the cord.) I have to be open to both and I fluctuate daily on this. Some days I am fine with having a cesarean. My eye is on the prize of having a healthy baby in the end. I believe in my body and know I have no real idea of how it will go. Other days I feel like a rebellious teen ready to jump on anyone even considering giving me a cesarean. I am ready to fight tooth and nail to give birth in the most animalistic way I can think of. There is nothing tidy and organized about birth. It is smelly, raw, emotional and in your face. No matter where you do it, it is the most powerful and animal act we modern womyn get to do.

Judy Chicago

 The first time I filled myself up with stories of women giving birth orgasmically in their beds at home. This was my ideal vision of birthing. It still is and it is not what we can do right now. We cannot afford a home birth and so we picked the best v-bac doctor we could find. I am considered a good candidate and she thinks I will be able to have a successful v-bac. In order to v-bac with her I have to naturally go into labor by 40 weeks. This is the kicker that scares me the most, Sweetpea came a full 2 weeks after her due date. I will try to go for a full 40 weeks but I also have to be ok with hospital policy. Grrrrr. We did hire an awesome doula that I believe will be a good liaison between the hospital and me and daddy's vision for labor. I don't want to get my hopes up too much though. As a good friend affirmed for me "hold on tightly, let go lightly." I will carry this affirmation with me into the birthing rooms of the hospital, as I fight to let my baby come naturally and be ok with whatever needs to happen.

What a challenging place and yet a growthful one too.