"Because Pink Nipples Aren't Offensive"
*Since I cried the majority of the way through writing yesterday's post, I thought I'd bring something a little lighter to the table today ;] Thanks so much for all of your support! These last few months in DFW should be fun!
One of the strangest things that I told Eamon when Lily was a newborn was
"Uh-oh...Babe, I think she's gonna have brown nipples, not pink"
Why on Earth was I so concerned with the color of my daughter's nipples, you [and my husband] ask? I feared she'll be faced with the sad truth that no one told me about- Pink nipples aren't offensive, but brown ones are.
Now before you think I'm worried about my girls going around flashing their peers, I'm talking about breastfeeding. I learned early on that in a crowded group of breastfeeding women, I gathered quite a few more looks than the other moms did. Then I realized- I was the only one with brown nipples. [I really need to ethnically diversify my group of friends...] Yep, it seemed that everyone seems to be okay with breastfeeding as long as you don't see what's really going on. Most people can ignore the fact that a mama's boob is in her baby's mouth if you just think about it as skin, but when you have a big brown areola staring back at you, even if just for a second, there's no denying what's going on.
With number two I've realized there are a lot of things that I'm just not surprised by. I feel less defensive about how we raise our children and why we do it. I feel like I can say "Well, Lily's turning out just fine, and that's what we did with her" and receive less of an argument. I know my girls are completely different already, but being through it once already gives me confidence that even if the situations aren't the same with Norah, I can do it. I feel more confident as a mother when I'm out with the two of them. [I say that now...stay tuned for the post following the day I actually take the two of them out by myself!]
And sometimes I feel that things are a little harder for me though, like breastfeeding. Not only do I feel like I have to fight the "only mamas with little perky boobies that are hidden by their baby's head" get to nurse without an uncomfortable [this is Texas, y'all. Feel free to read that as "hotter than hell"] nursing cover state of mind, but I have to fight the pornographic fear of brown nipples too. Then I remember that God gave my girls to me. That not only did he oversee the making of my girls inner parts in my womb, but He did the same for me! He knew my hair would be course and thick, my skin would be olive tinted, and even that my nipples would be brown. He knew where I'd live and how the culture would react to such a thing, yet He's called me to carry all of my attributes with Grace and modesty [which can be achieved with a cover up as well as without one] If I can do that, well, I've brought honor to Him!
I guess tonight when Eamon are in the middle of our daily rundown of events [which is always WAY TOO LATE, making me want to throw a tantrum and scream, "LET ME GO TO SLEEP!!!"] I can tell Eamon " I learned I can bring glory to God with my brown nipples!" What about you? What are some unexpected ways that God has used you or your parenting to bring glory to Him?
Hope you're having a great week so far!
Mae
Migrating South
When I think about growing up in Rockport, I think about my hair being frizzy from the humidity and wind. I think about running around in shorts and tank tops for 90% of my life, and bundling up on the rare occasion that it got below 70 degrees. I think about the sand that was always scattered around town living permanently in doormats, floorboards and shower drains.
In August, we'll be packing up our girls, and our dog, and moving back.
Instead of fighting sleep tolerating the bass of rap music, there will be seagulls and bull frogs, and the occasional Jimmy Buffet single floating on the breeze. There won't be a difference in the seasons, just hot, sticky spring, summer, and fall, and cool, dry winter-ish. There are no mega churches in Rockport, but the few churches without pews and psalm books are a little controversial.
The trade off's seem pretty equal for the most part, but I know that I'm trading my friends for family. My family...like, my ENTIRE family lives within an hour of Rockport, and Eamon's parents and brother live there too. I'm pretty excited for my girls to be close to our family. Playing in "Gra-munk's" [what Lily calls my mom] pool and swinging in her backyard, and chasing Norah around Grandpa Burke's huge yard are things that I hope they take advantage of.
But I feel like I've just recently got a grasp on how to grow and maintain my friendships here, and now I have to leave them. When I was little we moved around A LOT before we finally settled in Rockport. By the time I started school there I took a strong "I'm not going to try to make any friends because we're just going to move again" and it really effected me. I was an outcast for a long time and by the time I finally accepted that we were staying there, I was so socially awkward that it made it impossible for me to undo the damage. By the time I left Rockport I had a very close-knit group of people that I depended on and was semi terrified of the change that was ahead of me.
This kind of mindset has always been kind of hard for me to shake, but I finally let my guard down here and have some amazing friendships because of it. But now what? I feel as if I have to chose my family over my friends, and honestly, the friends I've made ARE my family here. When I've needed a sister I've been able to call Katie or Keri or Morgan, when I've needed some motherly advice, Michelle has always given me some solid answers. Bob and Ann have swooped in and saved the day on many occasion and have been a sort of surrogate family to us. And Angela, what about her? Who is gonna be there for me like she has during my pregnancy? I know God has a plan for us, I know we're going to bloom there, but why does this have to be so hard?!
I feel like God took the time to grow us here. To mature us and have us fight quite a few battles for a while. I feel like He's been preparing me for a role of leadership, but I don't know where. For about five minutes every day since we've made this decision I throw a tantrum and yell at God [I do that a lot, huh?] telling Him "I don't wanna go! You're idea is stupid!!" and He tells me to obey my husband. He says something like "Well if you still think I'm out to get you, trust him. You know he wouldn't do anything to harm your family." and then I feel like a jackass for not trusting Him, again, and go on with my day.
So I guess for now, we'll soak up the good things that we have available to us here in the Metroplex and just prepare for the great migration.
Mae
Sorry if this was sort of...all over the place. Can't seem to get my mind on one track today!!