She Can Wear Blue Too.

We found out on Monday that we're having a girl. A baby girl. Holy shit. It's a girl. And then I got excited and thought about all the different things I could do to her room. This is so going to be fun. After telling the West Coast grandparents, I went onto my registries to add a few more clothing items - that's when I realized as soon as you type in or search "girl," everything comes up pink. Literally everything.

Um, I'm not a pink ruffles kind of woman myself. I prefer black to pink actually. I don't wear a lot of dresses and my favorite outfit would be jeans, a t-shirt and some flip-flops. Comfort over fashion, for sure. After some intense searching I did find some items that weren't drowning in pink. Is this my fate? Is this her fate?

I read some time ago and loved Peggy Orenstein's book, Cinderella Ate My Daughter. It's fun and funny, but above all speaks to those of us who champion a world where little girls aren't sexualized and where women are taught that their power does not come from physical perfection. Who says girls have to wear pink? My daughter (can I just say how weird that was to type) will most certainly wear pink, it's inevitable, but she can and will wear blue too. My instinct is to fight, vehemently, against the princess-obsessed girl culture we live in. Life is complicated and if the goal is to raise a confident, independent and well-adjusted young woman, can that, should that, involve the inundation of pink, princesses, and rhinestone-studded words across her ass?

Clearly I've got some time before I have to figure this all out and before she starts to ask questions and has the capability of pointing out a poorly proportioned Barbie doll with over-sized tits, teeny-tiny feet, and a gap in her thighs ten miles wide, in the store, so I'm going to start my own crusade to raise a healthy young woman with what I know best: books.

For a while now I've been compiling lists of books for both boys and girls that represent each gender in a healthy light. Here's what's on tap for our little miss:

• Pippi Longstocking
• Madeline
• Suki's Kimono
• Stand Tall, Molly Lou Melon
• Princess Smartypants
• Grace for President
• Harriet the Spy
• The Secret Garden
• The Wonderful Wizard of Oz
• Chrysanthemum
• Little House on the Prairie
• Little Women
• Ramona Quimby
• Girls Think of Everything: Stories of Ingenious Inventions by Women
• Amelia to Zora: 26 Women Who Changed the World

This little one will also know that she will not be the best at everything she does and that's perfectly alright. Trophies and medals are reserved for the best for a reason. I can't stand our current culture's trend to acknowledge everyone, even for the smallest accolade. They don't hand out "participation" medals to all Olympians. I'm not interested in doling out reward after reward. Dangling a reward like a carrot will only motivate her to get the reward; what about developing her intrinsic nature to motivate herself? I'm not saying that the occasional bate isn't useful, and no doubt I will have to employ that tactic more than once, but when that's the only incentive then that's when I believe it becomes a problem.

She'll skin her knees, she'll come in last, she won't get the boy (or the girl if she so chooses), she'll fail a test and she'll be alright.
She'll be stronger and better for it.

Say My Name

Later this fall, Big Red and I will welcome our first child into our family. Olive will be a big sister. Things are going well and while I have not yet been able to feel anything, my belly has definitely begun to grow. I'm nearly 18 weeks along and have pretty much been wearing maternity pants for a month now. Truth is I may never return to "regular" pants because these genius elastic-waist bands are so freaking comfortable. It's like wearing sweatpants all day. Takes me back to my college years.

In just nine days I am scheduled to have the big anatomy scan, and yes we will be finding out if this little nugget is a boy or a girl. Oh yes. This mamma is a planner from cell to flesh and I don't think I could function if I had to wait until the birth. Everyone has an opinion about whether one should wait or not to find out the sex. Frankly, I could give a shit. Last time I checked, I was the one with the sore boobies and the growing tummy; sounds like the choice is ours despite the whole, "But don't you want to be surprised?" argument. Being told whether this is a girl or boy will garner the same surprise regardless of whether I'm lying on a bed with some blue-goo on my belly, comfortable and relaxed, or lying on a bed, having just pushed out a squirming screaming newborn. It's a surprise either way. Period. And because I'd like to have as much ready as I possibly can, I want to know. Now. In nine days. Case closed.

I have found that being pregnant opens the door for everyone and their mother to 1. touch your stomach, 2. tell you everything they know about parenting, 3. tell you their horror of a birth story, 4. ask you what you're going to name the kid. To which I will respond with the following: 1. a karate chop to your wandering touch or a reciprocal hand to your belly, 2. stop you and tell you I'm only having this child so someone will do the dishes for me, 3. proceed to interrupt your story and tell you about all my soccer injuries, 4. let you know I'm not revealing names.

Ahh, the name. Along the lines of opinions, so are the mired waters of the name discussion. The ritual and tradition of naming a child is as old as time, and is a very personal choice. I would NEVER make a rude comment to someone who has shared their choice of names. While I may not particularly like their choice, I'm going to damn well keep those thoughts to myself - as should everyone else. Nor should people proceed to tell a parent-to-be some wild story about an "Emma" they once knew and how she was a slutty whore. Because I know not everyone can hold their tongue, Big Red and I will not, I repeat NOT be sharing our name choices. We may leak to a few very close people, but that's pretty much it. Choosing a name for a child is a big responsibility, at least that's how we view it. Big Red has an aversion to the current more trendy names out there right now, and we both agree we like names that have been around for a while. This kid definitely will not have a Top 10 name, in fact they will probably not even have a Top 100 name. Last night we were perusing and using the US Social Security Administration website, plugging in possible choices to see where they ranked in popularity. It was both funny and a fun discussion. Turns out my name, Ilene, is a name that is not even in the top 1000 names for the past decade. Score me.

The very real responsibility of giving a name is undeniable  We want the name to be strong, time-tested, and to sound professional. We're not interested in unique spellings, or something easily butchered. Other parents may follow different guidelines, these are ours.

Health, Consciousness, & Reality

(photo credit)

Last night, Big Red and I watched the highly touted documentary, Vegucated. The filmmaker, Marisa Miller Wolfson, a vegan herself, follows three NYC omnivores as they attempt the vegan lifestyle for six weeks. They visit farms, animal sanctuaries, investigate what "free range" means, and shockingly, what it doesn't. They speak with the likes of Dr. Joel Fuhrman and T. Collin Campbell, as well as visit the vegan friendly retail store, Moo Shoes, to shop.

The film is compelling, as all in this genre are (Forks Over Knives, Food, Inc., etc.). After watching clips of the horrors of slaughter house practices and the inhumane treatment of livestock, I always turn my DVD player off with a knot in my stomach and the renewed resolve to live a more conscious and healthy life - one that does not involve eating animal products. At the start of 2012, I actually went vegan for several months as a way to kick off a healthier way of eating and to lose some weight. The resulting effects of omitting animal products were wonderful. I felt lighter, less fatigued, more lucid and clean from the inside out. I was educated on the health benefits of such a way of eating, and came to realize I could get all the nutrition I needed from a plant-based, whole food way of life. There is some hard evidence out there that suggests when eating a properly balanced whole food/plant-based diet, heart disease and cancer rates significantly drop. Who wouldn't want those odds?

I was very successful and in fact lost 30 lbs. But I didn't keep up the vegan lifestyle. For one, Big Red likes meat. He was willing to go along with my food scheming ways, so long as there was an occasional meat-based dish. He likes cows milk and eggs. He likes cheese, and so do I. Very much. Cooking two meals isn't feasible, not on a regular basis, and since I'm the resident chef - by choice - these are daily considerations. These are not excuses, this is my/our reality. I don't think it's right to impose my way of thinking on Big Red, that isn't fair to him. Just because I've got a bee in my bonnet about the welfare of cows and chickens and pigs and fish, doesn't mean he should as well. He's a grown man and can make his own choices, but because I do the grocery shopping and the cooking, does that mean I make his food choices for him? I don't think it works like that, or at least, it wouldn't work well.

In our debriefing of the film last night, Big Red said that while the film was provocative, going vegan wasn't going to solve the atrocities being done to animals - we are just one or two people, how could that make an impact? Further, if there were a demand for more plant-based foods, something would go awry in the farming of those products and then there would be some crazy overuse of pesticides and fertilizers, and we'd have issues there as well. He's a little skeptical if you haven't picked up on that already.

But I still feel guilty. I feel bad that there's cheese and eggs in my fridge right now. I feel bad that some poor chicken was shoved into a teeny tiny metal crate and kept contained just for its eggs. If my decision to make vegan-like choices doesn't save all animals, at the very least it would ease my guilt. Not to mention the perks of the health benefits.

Is there some kind of balance possible? What if I cut down, once again, on the purchasing of animal products, and when I do buy them, I buy them from retailers like Wild Purveyors? It's a family owned business (like) that specializes is seasonal, locally sourced raw and specialty products. Their animals are locally raised in a pasture and humanely slaughtered (like). And all products are antibiotic, GMO, and rBST free (like).

If I can't choose not to be 100% vegan, then is this an acceptable alternative? At the very least, it's on the spectrum to moving in the right direction - or at the very least, a direction in which I'm comfortable living.

It's That Simple

He came home feeling down and out, saw me laying on the couch taking a nap. Disregarding his own state of mind, he offered to make dinner which would include homemade meatballs. I was to relax and stay put.

It is no wonder I have loved this man for 13 years.

Mortality

How often are we really all forced to face our own mortality? I mean, in all honesty, how often do you think about when you're going to die? It is, most definitely, inevitable. Although it may be grim to say so, truth is, each day we live this lovely tragic twisted and beautiful life, we are a day closer to death.

In my lifetime I have seen death. My first true experience was with my grandfather, Granpa Milt. I was in high school. It was sad, but it was not unexpected. He had been ill for a while and had already had several close calls. When he died, he'd already lived a long and full life. When I was in graduate school my mother's father died. I was in New York, he was in California. Because of the distance, I don't think I ever really felt the full effect of his passing, and in some way, I'm selfishly glad for that. 

The death that has most profoundly affected me was the death of my brother-in-law. Ten years ago this summer, he died in a car accident. He was just 25. This was not a death anyone was prepared to handle. To say that his passing was a kick to the nuts would be a gross understatement. When Mike died, something in me - in all of us who knew him, fell off the shelf and broke. Deep fissures of pain bore themselves into our ribs. It was unlike anything I had ever experienced, and something that I pray to the universe, I'll never have to experience ever again. I was the one who had to tell Big Red his brother was dead. I consider myself a bit of a wordsmith and trust me when I say there is not a single word or series of words that can capture what that was like - telling him. 

While Mike's death was a tremendous shock, it was, reduced to its simplest form, an accident. When my both my grandfathers died, they died because they were old men. What about the possibility of death that comes not from an accident, or from old age, but from a disease?

I know a lovely woman who is battling ovarian cancer. She's beat it once and she's beating the shit out of it again. Most recently another woman I know was diagnosed with breast cancer - she too is lovely and strong and will fight this bitch of a cancer tooth and nail. I know a third woman, a friend from college, who fought and kicked Non-Hodgkin Lymphoma square in the balls.

We're never really asked to think about "the end" unless forced to do so because of someone or something in our lives. I know it can get a little nebulous and heady because, at least for me, death seems so unreal. To cease to exist is a concept that definitely warps your brain if you think about it for too long. Why don't we ever talk about it? Why is our culture geared towards ignoring the end when in fact it's the one guarantee we ALL have in this life?

And then the bigger question: what does it all mean? 

I know, I know - this is big stuff. 

FINISHED!

Re-purposed and reupholstered.

What once was.

Bring on the Lambs

March: In like a lion and out like a lamb. This idiom has lived up to its fullest potential this year.

Earlier this week, Pittsburgh was walloped with more than half a foot of snow. I woke Wednesday morning to a virtual winter wonderland. Ever seen the movie A Christmas Story? Remember when Ralphie awakes Christmas morning to find his entire world iced in pure crystalline white snow? That's how it was here. It was gorgeous. Olive and I headed outside to shovel - something I actually don't mind doing - the storybook quality of our neighborhood was nothing short of a scene out of a movie. Stunning, really. The flip side to this story is that just days later as I sit here typing out my words, the sun is shining, the sky is blue and we're expecting nearly 60 degree weather this weekend.

When I lived in California, the weather was not much for a topic of discussion unless it rained or dropped below 60 degrees - at which point it got "cold." It was pretty much always sunny and therefore something you just didn't really notice. The fact that the weather was almost never an issue made it easy to plan outings without having to keep a keen eye on the weather channel for daily updates. I definitely took for granted the steady temperate climate. Here, in Pittsburgh, any variation in weather is on the forefront of discussion. About this time of year, the Steel City turns into a bunch of grumbling curmudgeons, cursing the cold and willing on the warmer weather of spring. I don't mind the winter and in fact find a quiet solace in the stark landscape. I see it as almost necessary, because when the sun finally does unveil herself from her long hibernation, there is a definite sense of appreciation.

Here, you notice how lovely it is outside. You make an effort to get some fresh air and enjoy the warmer climate. You take stock of the trees birthing, once again, their green leaves. When the flowers bloom it's as if you've been living in black and white and now technicolor has painted its magic on the world. Time is marked and does not just pass unnoticed. I like that.

Today, as we make our plans, the weather will most definitely play a roll. Big Red has been itching to get into the garage and do a thorough spring cleaning. He's looking forward to having the door open while the radio scratches out some tunes. I'm feeling an early house spring cleaning coming on, maybe opening a few windows to allow the stagnant lion air out and to make room for some lambs.