Leslea Tash's Blog, page 35
July 17, 2013
Bird Migration info for Southern Indiana
Working on Bird After Bird
July 16, 2013
nevver:
Varunyoo Thongdee
varunyoo thongdee varunyoothongdee.tumblr.com
varunyoo thongdee varunyoothongdee.tumblr.com
varunyoo thongdee varunyoothongdee.tumblr.com
varunyoo thongdee varunyoothongdee.tumblr.com
To heck with it! Win a BOX FULL of books!
I’ve decided to up the ante on my book giveaway for my tumblr followers. Instead of winning your choice of the books…you win ALL THE BOOKS. Yes, that’s right. That’s you, doing ALL the winning. You got this.
But, Leslea, how do I enter?
Same way, homeslice! I have even edited the rafflecopter to allow you to reblog the giveaway once per day for more entries if you’d like.
Yup, I’m cool like that.
A much-needed retreat
I am on retreat from FB. Both my Leslea Tash and Red Tash profiles are deactivated until I decide to activate them again. I am an introvert and my psyche has been screaming for retreat for quite awhile. Now that I’ve bit the bullet on both accounts it is a tremendous feeling of relief! Such a great indicator that one has done the right thing, you know?
I will miss the updates from my friends, but hopefully they’ll all still be there when I return, right? And I can figure something else for uploading my pics of the kids. Flickr, I guess. I’m a “pro," after all.
I physically already feel better. What a relief.
Okay, so what to do with those extra three hours per day…you know it’s probably been more time than that, even.
Finish all three books I’ve got in process.
Sell this house and move into the new one.
Exercise more, pay more attention to what I eat.
Enjoy the remainder of the summer with my family.
God, after all that, who CARES, right?
I love my friends and FB is a boon to connectivity that I’ve loved since they finally let me in (I banged on the doors for months before they started letting in non-college students, truly).
But I feel AWESOME right now and I am going to follow that feeling. I’m sure it will lead me back to FB eventually and all my friends online and I look forward to that day, too…like the return from any vacation.
HAPPY TUESDAY, WORLD!
*If you are a FB friend who has missed me or is surprised to find me “gone," just email me. Or text me if you have my #. It’s really no big deal, there is no drama at all. I am just relearning how to give myself something I really, really need. I don’t even know how to label it. Sovereignty over my sanity? I don’t know. All I know is it looks something like this:
July 15, 2013
Guerilla Mothering on 7/15/13
I became a mother twelve years ago today, at 8:45 in the morning. My oldest is now taller than me, and his mustache is definitely more noticeable than my own—for now. Give us a few years on that count, though, as he rounds out puberty and I get really serious about that whole “menopause" thing that’s all the rage. (I’d say “all the cool kids are doing it," but I’ve seen the hot flash medications at the supermarket and I know better.)
Look, here’s the thing. I can plan and give my kid the best birthday EVER (EVER!) complete with a peanut-free ice cream cake I made myself (half mint Cookies & Creme, half regular Cookies & Cream, all chocolate), an expensive skateboard and a killer helmet. I can and have done all that. I can post JUST about that, and I can put it to Pinterest, flood the social media channels, you know…and if I do so, everyone will “virtually applaud" and give me my “good mommy" cookies with their likes and their repins and their retweets. I can do that. There is nothing socially unacceptable about that whatsoever.
Here’s the thing, though. When I started blogging a decade ago, feeling my way through the journey of parenting (then) two young boys, it was because I was filled with questions. Questions the internet and many, many good books and years of therapy couldn’t answer. "How do I raise these boys?"
Now I have three boys and a girl and I still sometimes ask myself if I’m doing it “right." Not to win “mommy cookies" (although those are great) or to feel good about myself at the end of the day, but to make sure my children are prepared for the world. As prepared as they can possibly be.
I started blogging about this stuff because it was *in* me. I didn’t necessarily always want or need feedback, but I knew deep down that others had similar questions. Other parents walking similar paths. Maybe we could compare notes.
Over time, my blog turned into a monthly column at ClubMom. Then it turned into a weekly column in the newspaper. It remained very “big picture" in focus with everyday examples of philosophy in action. I was proud of my work with that. It felt like it was not just good for me, but good for my kids and the community of parents who read it.
Eventually I felt like I had no more wisdom to offer—that my own life’s path had become too bewildering (due to divorce) and my own emotions too raw to share publicly. I was afraid I might expose my children’s privacy to public ridicule in some way and I didn’t want to write anything I might regret—about them, about their father, about their struggling mother. THAT WAS THE RIGHT THING TO DO. I’ve never regretted it.
Did my column run its course? I don’t know. Doesn’t matter. But what does matter is that times like right now, I know from experience that *my voice matters*. Not to a syndicated readership anymore, but to those who *are* reading. To those who find me and who care what I have to say.
Whoever you are, however you found me, hi. I’m Leslea Tash. I’m the author of the Guerilla Mothering. I have four kids. They are my full-time job and in the past I have made many, many difficult choices in trying to do what’s right for them. I’ve been shamed for using sunblock too early. I’ve been appalled at the lack of information against peanut butter for toddlers (DON’T DO IT). I’ve been the babyproofing hero of Louisville, KY and the cloth-diapering, child-led weaning, elimination communication, attachment parenting Montessori Mom with the distinction of having it all have been QUITE BY ACCIDENT.
I never set out to be a granola mom. I never set out to be SuperMom and I bristle when I get called that. I screw a lot of shit up. I say “shit" in front of my kids, for instance. I have been known to lose my temper and say unmotherly things. I’m not perfect.
But there are some decisions I feel great about.
In our house, we keep nothing that we know can kill anyone, unless it is necessary for life. We don’t need peanut or tree nut products, so they do not come through our door unless by accident. We keep poisonous chemicals locked up behind cabinet doors. Due to my research about what little boys do with guns, my husband sold his firearms and we are a gun-free zone (but we do have dogs and I have a lovely Louisville Slugger on hand just in case).
We *have* to have knives to cut food, but they are out of baby’s reach and boys learn to use them with supervision as needed. My kids aren’t sheltered from every potential threat. They clean with bleach, they walk down the street without holding Mommy’s hand (imagine the shame!).
When it comes to news and information, I’ve always been very protective. I’ve been a very bad journalist in that regard. Hard news upsets me horribly, and I avoid it. The world is filled with “If it bleeds, it leads" fodder. FILLED with it. The everyday joys that get photographed and uploaded to FB and Pinterest are better for my mental health, for sure.
But what about all the bad news? Is it important? Yeah, in some cases it is. It really is. It’s like reading the labels on the foodstuffs or the cleaning products. How do I know what is safe and what isn’t if I don’t do the research? How do I begin to learn to babyproof or whatever the teen version is of parenting my kids if I don’t know anything about the dangers this world poses?
So, yeah, this past week I learned that women are disrespected and treated as sub-human in Texas as an institutional practice. I read news stories of similar problems in Virginia and I *think* North Carolina. Then this week the Trayvon Martin murder went unpunished as the man who sought him out and attacked him got off scot free. These are but two of many troubling news items in the headlines recently. These are only two.
Still, I have made my opinion known on these instances, and in doing so, I have opened the door to people who want to tell me that they are okay with 1.) Texas & other states stripping away the rights of women and 2.) Florida letting a confessed killer walk because 1.) their Jesus doesn’t permit abortion and 2.) their own kids are part of the white majority.
LOOK. I’m not perfect in my faith, nor am I perfect in my handling of racial inequalities. Do I love Jesus? Yes. He and I are a little bit on the outs lately because I am butthurt over the lack of “cookies" he has seen fit to grant me after what I feel was more than enough “Jesus points" in a personal situation or two that have since passed. I am a bit angry with God, yes. But my desire to see my daughter receive any and every kind of medical care she could ever possibly need, in any stretch of the imagination, has nothing to do with what I would personally want her to do should she become pregnant and not want the baby. The chance of that happening is so far-flung, basing any political choices I might make now on the fact that I wouldn’t want her to get an abortion then is ludicrous. God forbid she had a car accident in Texas, while pregnant, and they needed to abort her baby to save her life. WHY should my daughter pay with her life for someone else’s twisted version of religion? I have studied the Bible and have the college transcripts to prove it—nowhere does it say that we need to kill to get into Heaven. Despite my desire to support my daughter through anything that might come, her body and her life are HERS. I know that. I believe that. She has the right to live it.
In the past, I have been guilty of thinking that abortion was a non-issue in my life. I had sons, after all. Abortion wasn’t for me, so I just wouldn’t have one. But I never spoke up about it. I’m speaking up now. I have CHANGED MY MIND. Not because I want my daughter to get an abortion someday. Not because I no longer believe they are wrong when used as birth control. I don’t, and I still do. What has changed is that I believe it’s important for influential people like myself—MOTHERS—to stand up and say that taking rights away from any group is wrong. Women have the right to choose this procedure without qualification of any kind. MY PERSONAL OPINION on anyone’s situation doesn’t matter. I am no one to that woman. I am NOT of her body. It is her body, it is her choice.
Another issue I have been quiet about is race. I am a white woman. I was raised in the prejudiced Southern Midwest known as Southern Indiana. Race relations aren’t fantastic here. I live in a barely-mixed neighborhood in a very racially diverse town. My kids went to a barely-mixed school. The majority of our friends are white. It is not that I am adverse to meeting and mixing with people of different cultures. I am very open to that. It just doesn’t happen easily—it doesn’t happen easily here and I know it doesn’t happen easily elsewhere, because nationally I see so much outcry and division over Trayvon Martin’s killing / George Zimmerman’s not guilty verdict, and other issues not unlike it in the past.
I didn’t bang on my drum and make a huge deal about Trayvon’s killing. I didn’t think I had to. I thought justice would prevail. I understand the justice system screwed up in this case, but regardless, it has been appalling seeing so many people on Facebook screaming for their friends to stop talking about it and move on. It is appalling seeing white people talk about how they are not racist, then go on to defend Zimmerman. I have had the nastiest of messages wrapped up inside messages intended to be kind. It has been like being handed a glass of sweet tea laced with strychnine. "I agree it was wrong of Zimmerman to kill him, but…"
That’s when the red flag goes up. If it was wrong, it was wrong.
There have been times when a “friend" has said to me in the past “It is too bad that your son has peanut allergy. That is just awful, but…"
But.
But peanuts are full of protein and protein’s good for you. But my kid only likes peanut butter. But my kid really *wants* to take peanut butter to school. But my son doesn’t understand why he shouldn’t put a peanut into your son’s lunch when he’s not looking. But kids like yours are weak, and there are too many people on this planet already, and if your son dies…so be it.
My son hasn’t died. God willing, he’ll live a full life. He’s twelve today, did I mention that?
And God forbid he ever decides to wear a hoodie at night. Because, you know, that’s what HOODS were designed for. To cover his head. “It was wrong of Zimmerman to shoot him but…"
But my son is white. But my son won’t ever been seen as a threat because he’s not a tall male of color. But my son will never marry a black girl and have mixed babies…OH WAIT. Huh. What about that? It happens, white people. It happens all the time. If you’re telling yourself that this couldn’t have happened to you and yours because you are white, then what about when your grandkids are not? Because that’s coming. What kind of world do you want to legislate today for your grandchildren tomorrow? I’m here to tell you, these past twelve years have flown by. I never could have predicted 911, Smartphones, and Obama when my first baby was born. God only knows what’s waiting for us in the next twelve.
So, regardless, you’ve outlawed abortion and now your white daughter has a black son and if you love babies as much as you say you do, suddenly you care about whether it’s okay for your grandkids to be walking the streets at night doing all the same teenager things you were safe to do, don’t you?
God forbid I ever forget, as a white woman and the mother of white children, that my kids are on the side of power. Because someday, they may not be. Even if they “keep to their own," we are shrinking. We will not always carry White Privilege. No matter how I feel about it, it is on its way out. Period.
The BEST possible thing I can do as I parse what’s available and I read the labels to decide what to lock up, what to keep out, and what to throw away is REJECT the ideology of “me" over “we."
"Me" doesn’t believe in abortion, but that doesn’t mean “we" should outlaw it. "Me" is a white woman but that doesn’t me “we" will never be affected by racism.
All my kids, I hope, will find love and marry happily and have as many children as they like. But if they need abortion for any reason, they need safe and legal access to it. And if my white children marry spouses (or choose not to marry partners) of color, then SO BE IT. I want my grandchildren to be able to walk the streets at night without threat of some stranger murdering them. I want safety for all children regardless of nut allergies or gun nuts or Jesus nuts.
When we turn a blind eye to oppression, whether that is making it okay for kids with peanut butter to terrorize kids with allergies, or whether that is us saying “Thank God we don’t live in Texas" or whether that is us thinking “This doesn’t matter to me because I am white," we CHOOSE. We choose the side of the oppressor.
I don’t tune into the news all that much. Did I mention that? I know I did. I get alerts from my FB. When I see a lot of people talking, I research a topic. I form my opinions then. Not everyone does that. Some people just get their news from other people. Some people do worse than Facebook friends—some people watch Fox News! Some people enjoy the hateful adrenaline rush of O’Reilly and Limbaugh. Many, many of these people live in insular racially divided communities and don’t even speak to one another in the grocery store—even when they are the “right" color. This is our world. The world of “me" the people. The world of the SUV and the Starbucks, the world of the now, where forward thinkers are rewarded with power and influence if and ONLY if they are financial successes. This world is a dangerous and desperate place and the glossy Pinterest photos of Death by Chocolate do not change the facts: there is abundant death—and woe to he who *is* chocolate.
Don’t let your rights and your good sense be the next casualty. Do the right thing. Stand your ground for COMMON DECENCY.
If you let anything less than that into your home, then for the sake of the children, lock that shit up where nobody can get to it.
And don’t be surprised if the kids find a way to be poisoned by it, anyway.
I’m done. I have to be done. I’ve ranted long enough. Please be good to each other. When you see a news story, ask yourself what you would do if it were your child who was murdered or denied healthcare access. If you don’t have children, then ask yourself what if you were the one losing rights, losing your life? If the answer you come up with in any way leads to you saying “Well, that doesn’t apply to me," then you’re not getting it. Try again. It’s called empathy & it’s not about you.
It’s about “we." It’s about love. It’s about freedom. It’s about peace. Your voice matters. Use it to share your beliefs, to promote harmony and SOME sort of growth. Do that! Don’t be silent! There is more to your mothering than Pinteresting your Lego cakes and your best cleaning tips!
I know you have it in you. I know you are brave enough. Speak out against injustice. Do this. Your voice is so important.
It is my son’s birthday today. He is twelve. I didn’t know that bearing him was going to make me want to change the world. I just knew that he was going to change my world. He did. Now I want a better future for him and all his siblings. I don’t like what I’m seeing out there. I’m going to do my best to make it better, however I can.
I hope you’ll join me.
July 14, 2013
chasingthegreenfaerie:
Stephanie (katzenfraulein) on Pinterest...
Stephanie (katzenfraulein) on Pinterest on We Heart It - http://weheartit.com/entry/59321456/via/frauruhig
Hearted from: http://pinterest.com/pin/182395853630827518/
July 13, 2013
nanibgal:
howardhill101:
amymexy:
mr-egbutt:
ascenti:
totall...
Sorry not sorry.
The men of tumblr unite. Because this is more than fighting the patriarchy, this is fighting for the voice of the people.
*Phone rings*
THE FUCK DID YOU SAY THE PATRIARCHY WAS UP TO?
I’M ON MY WAY.
*Banana Rings*
Who is this how did you get this numb—THE PATRIARCHY IS DOING WHTA
SAVE SOME PATRIARCH BLOOD FOR US
3:01PM SYDNEY TIME
Hello?
Patriarchy WHAT?!
AW HELL NO
I’M COMIN YOU MOTHERFUCKERS I DON’T EVEN CARE IF THEY DON’T LET ME ON A PLANE
Fucking bro strider come out!! Omg HAHAHAAH I love theses guys
Meanwhile In England……
"Jolly great bit of Tea"
-Phone Rings-
"THE PATRIARCHY DOING WHAT!?!!?!?!"
"Those Bloody Wankers!!!!!!"
"It Looks Like Tea Time Is Going To Have To Wait"
"It’s A Jolly Good Thing I kept My Old Equipment…."
"All Right Old Chaps, Im On My Way!!!"
"TALLY-HO!!!!!"
I just reblogged this, but IT GOT BETTER.
