Sometimes the clothes do not make the man

We're born naked, and the rest is drag.

― RuPaul, Lettin It All Hang Out: An Autobiography

(Strange to use a George Michael lyric for a post from another musician? Maybe. I swear my mind thinks in lyrics and quotes when it comes to titling anything.)

Wean Me Gently

We are one year into our breastfeeding relationship, and I have no plans of weaning until he is good and ready. But I found this poem and it got me good. Motherhood is non-stop beautiful heartbreak.

Wean Me Gently

by Cathy Cardall

I know I look so big to you,

Maybe I seem too big for the needs I have.

But no matter how big we get,

We still have needs that are important to us.

I know that our relationship is growing and changing,

But I still need you. I need your warmth and closeness,

Especially at the end of the day

When we snuggle up in bed.

Please don't get too busy for us to nurse.

I know you think I can be patient,

Or find something to take the place of a nursing;

A book, a glass of something,

But nothing can take your place when I need you.

Sometimes just cuddling with you,

Having you near me is enough.

I guess I am growing and becoming independent,

But please be there.

This bond we have is so strong and so important to me,

Please don't break it abruptly.

Wean me gently,

Because I am your mother,

And my heart is tender.

Happy International Women's Day!

I couldn't have said it better myself. Via Chookooloonks.

Especially:

10.  Your ability or inability to accomplish something should never be defined by your gender.  Ever.  Some people will try to argue that simply by virtue of your gender, you are biologically incapable of doing something, but unless that Something directly involves certain very specific contributions to the creation of a new human life, then frankly, they are misinformed.

Happy First Birthday, Felix!

To Felix, who was born one year ago today.

To me, whose birth as a mother has been long and laborious and continued after the baby emerged from my body.
To Chris, whose birth as a father walks with mine hand in hand.

We made it out of the labyrinth of the first year, y'all.

Here he is eating a celebratory stick at the playground.

Happy birthday, sweet baby boy.

My dear Suzi over at Laundry Line Divine

It occurs to me that I have been horribly remiss in linking to my beloved friend Suzi Banks Baum, light behind the blog Laundry Line Divine and now the fantastic revolution called Out of the Mouths of Babes.

I wish you could meet her. She is one seriously passionate woman. Her blog's tagline is "seeing and celebrating the sacred in daily life," and boy, does she inspire me with exactly how artfully she does this. She is a writer, an artist, an organizer, a pleasure revolutionary -- oh yes, and she is a mother and wife, which provide the unique lens through which she organizes much of her work.

And as you would imagine with all of this inner glow, she is wildly beautiful on the outside, too.

Here she is in September at the restaurant Home.

This woman is one of my nearest and dearest. For almost four years, we have talked on the phone every week to spring clean (one of Mama Gena's tools -- I'll explain in another post). We have shared our hearts with each other through joy, birth, death, and everything in between, and she has been gently patient with me this past year as I adjusted to being a new mom and my time went haywire. I treasure her friendship and am over the moon with pride about her new project.

Suzi is in the midst of launching a reading series called "Out of the Mouths of Babes: An Evening of Mothers Reading to Others." The first event is on March 2nd at 7:00 p.m. and is part of the Berkshire Festival of Women Writers. Be there early so you don't miss the lullaby that opens the evening.

“No mother is lacking in creativity,” says Banks Baum. “Whether she stays at home with her children, or works outside of the home while someone else looks after her kids, she is using major creative muscles to make it all work. My desire is to provide women with a vehicle to discuss the importance of creativity in their daily lives; to witness the beauty of words written by other mothers; and to emerge from this event inspired to celebrate and engage with their own creativity.”

If you are anywhere in the northeast, I urge you to get yourself to her neck of the woods for this event. There will be bedtime snacks served; pajamas are optional.

This post is being written tonight because I was in the middle of savoring a Mary Oliver poem that she posted when I realized that I have never linked our two online worlds. So here we go, for all 3 of my readers. Please go spend some time in her backyard. Hang a garment or two on her line. You will feel better because of it.

Here is the first stanza of the poem she posted. You'll have to go to her site to read the rest.

To Begin with, the Sweet Grass

1.

Will the hungry ox stand in the field and not eat
of the sweet grass?
Will the owl bite off its own wings?
Will the lark forget to lift its body in the air or
forget to sing?
Will the rivers run upstream?

Behold, I say – behold
the reliability and the finery and the teachings
of this gritty earth gift.

....