The Blankie Chronicles

Two!

One pot of coffee and one enormous latte later, I think I am awake enough to type.  My sweet girl turned two yesterday (how did that happen??).  We had such a wonderful day, filled with all things Elizabeth loves:: her family, tea, sledding, white chocolate cherry scones, and ever-so-Lizzie gifts.  I was planning to wake up and type the letter I write to each of my babes on their birthdays, recapping the year and celebrating who they are in the moment.  However, Liz went to bed only to wake with a full-on surprise case of croup, and we spent the entire night (the. entire. night.) up.  So while I also have lots of fun crafty stuff to show you, I think today I'll just take a photo stroll down memory lane.   

I've experienced the joy and awe of birth three times.  It never ceases to transform and empower me.

And welcoming a girl into my all-boy household? Well, we all found ourselves so deeply in love.

but really? Who wouldn't fall in love with this face?

As time has passed, I have grown increasingly aware of the powerful bond between mother and daughter.  It is different than my relationship with the boys-- not better or worse-- perhaps because it feels like I'm looking into a mirror of my past.

I just know that my house has been made more full.  There is more laughter.  

there are more photo sessions (because this girl really, really likes the camera).

And pigtails. Oh, how there have been pigtails and ponytails and barettes and braids!

I've long believed children are like stars.  They seem to find just the right place in the sky of a family.  And Elizabeth, she shines so bright for us.  Happy birthday, again, dear baby (sigh) little girl!

         

Monthly Mindfulness:: the balance of emotions

Finally!  Two days late, I put my scientific giveaway system, er, person to work.  Congrats to Hillary of Infinite Learners!  Email me with your info and I'll send you the goods girl!

 

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Sometimes there is so much bad news, so much heartache and heartbreak present or on the horizon, that it feels like everyone is just walking around in a fog.  A fog that also feels like the elementary school field day event I hated most; moving down a path with an egg on a spoon.  I always dropped the egg.  Most of the time, it broke.  

I've been noticing a lot of this hazy sadness in our community as of late.  Some of it from tragedies, some from our own humanness-- the divorces, divergent kids, financial struggles-- all  seemingly great in number right now.  There is a part of me that gets wrapped up in these stories.  My head and heart have a hard time with boundaries, always trying to figure the why behind people's actions, always trying to soak up pain that isn't mine.  And in doing so, it is easy to become so focused on what's happening outside my home, that I'm far from balanced inside my daily life.  

Instead of talking (and talking, and talking) with friends or family about the melancholy blanket is covering our small town, I'm going to try something different.  In part inspired by Exhale, Return to Center's Erin and her one small change for January, in part inspired by Hillary at Infinite Learner's thoughts on the personal being global, and as part of my focus this month on balance, I'm going to take the restless energy I feel and put it, physically, to work.  And I'm starting here:

This is my basement.  It's where I'm supposed to escape to sew or craft or read or write or do anything that fills me up without leaving my house.  I'm not sure about you, but these pictures don't exactly scream "calming."

Part of having balance, even for a person who often chooses to do anything other than organize or deep clean, includes a bit of order.  Obviously,the amount of order differs from person to person.  I have friends who cannot fall asleep until every toy, book, and pair of socks in the house is tucked away in a designated spot (often by color, theme, etc.).  Other friends live on the brink of a clean laundry landslide, or let their little people's stuff collect in corners and stairwells until small mountains emerge (and yet, they know where everything is).  I'm not sure where I fall on the spectrum.  I don't like to organize.  I don't like to tackle piles of stuff.  Yet, I feel anxious when things are far from in order, and I feel deep senses of satisfaction when my house is decluttered and asthetically pleasing.  Perhaps balance is always like that: an undefined thread that rests between the spaces of where we are in this moment.  

 

So my goal for the rest of this week is to clean this space.  To take the time to put all this glorious (gifted!), interesting fabric in color schemes and well folded rows.  To clean off some bookshelf space (so that I don't have to buy shelving) and create an area for sewing projects. There is not a lot to say when sadness settles in, and I'm starting to understand this is rooted in spiritual reasons.  Silence helps us hear the universe a little bit better.  It helps us tap into a balance we all need.  I'm not yet at a place where I can sit in meditation when my body feels anxious and tired and uneasy all at once.  Instead of fighting that, or berating myself for not being there yet, I think I'll just fold fabric.  

 

Because sometimes, that's enough.

----

Thanks for the deep breaths and love you sent into the world yesterday.  I took a few quiet moments to watch the sun set over the lake, and I do believe the universe was glowing in response.  I believe in the power of collective prayer and thought, and I'm sure those families needing it most felt wrapped in your lights.

We're getting ready to draw the winner of last week's giveaway.  It will be announced at the bottom of this post within the hour.

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Rise Up: Stories from the Mother Net

It is 9 p.m. on Tuesday night.  I'm sitting on the floor, bright light from my computer screen making everything around me hazy. Justin just passed the front window, a shadow with skis, as he heads out for a moonlit pass on the cross country loop.  Our children are sleeping. I just checked on each of them, lingering in the doorway. I start to cry.

I'm supposed to be editing the next interview for Rise Up right now.  Except I'm not there-- not in a space or place to want to focus on any of that stuff, because I'm thinking about a memorial service happening in Colorado right now.  I'm thinking of a family we know, a family who has lost one of their greatest treasures in a horrid and unfair way and of a funeral Justin and I will attend in the week to come.  I'll be honest.  I am having a hard time not saying something about the loss this community is feeling, even though I didn't really know this sweet spirit of a girl (who has been described by all as the definition of bright and shining).  There is something that seems wrong about repeating a tragedy that isn't yours.  But life is made of what we feel in each moment.  Writing a life means telling that truth. And right now, my heart is filled with thoughts for her mama and papa. It aches for her sister (who we fondly call the worst-- but funniest-- babysitter ever).  My breath is sucked away a thousand times a day at the very thought of the way their lives will divide into a before, and, an after. 

 So this is all I can say. 

 Maybe this edition of Rise Up needs to simply be a space of silence.  A space where we pause and lift up in our hearts the mothers around the world who have experienced the deepest sense of loss.  They are part of the fabric of this web.  We are all connected.  

I'd like to announce the winner of the giveaway on Thursday.  Let's just send a little bit of goodness into the world instead.  I'm going to close the comments, and ask that each of you close your eyes, tap into that net, and send prayers of peace and comfort and light to those who need it most. 

hugs to each and every one of you, making the world shine brighter in your own amazing ways.

monthly mindfulness: balance

 

The door clicked, its sound loud against the cold air, signaling Justin's arrival.  He was coming home following a 12 hour day of work and teaching ski lessons.  I was sitting on the couch.  It was freezing and dark. Still, I didn't move to start the fire.  A computer on my lap and notebooks surrounding my legs, I began barking the minute he walked in the room. 

"I can't talk to you because I've been working 12 hours too-- you know, at this house, with our children-- and now I need to go work at least four more to meet deadlines and get ready for meetings in the morning."

And that was just what I said with my words.  My nonverbal communication was even more crabby; hunched over, sharp breathing, furrowed brows and frowns abound.  

Yeah.

Balance.

It is a monthly mindfulness that is going to be a huge challenge for me.  It is also one that I need to pay attention to now more than ever, as I step up my workloads for the first time since Lizzie was born.  

I was going to stay up late and write something poignant and inspirational about this month's focus. Except this weekend, our small town was hit with tragic news of the worst kind.  It isn't my story to tell. I'll simply say that right now, to me the word balance means this: whatever needs to happen so that I am present with my loves.  (and happy present, as opposed to grouchy present, would be a nice bonus).  So instead, I'm seeking sleep.  And quiet morning coffee.  

Balance.  How do you find it?

learning is such a hoot

When a northern hawk owl moved into our neck of the woods, my birding boys caught a glimpse via photo in the newspaper.  

 Max cut it out and posted it on the boys' inspiration board, and almost daily, we went out looking for the elusive creature (there had been no owls of its kind in the area for 40+ years).  We googled its call and listened to it again and again, practicing our own versions.  We snowshoed at night searching the treetops for its stately form.  We drove to places it had been spotted, to no avail.  And then my mom called one day to tell us she saw it sitting at the top of a very high tree just blocks from our house.  Loading everyone up with shoes untied and hats half on, we rushed to the site. And there he was. Darn that macro lens being on!

 

The excitement of the owl caused all sorts of peaked curiosities in my house.  Noah, who is studying anatomy in science right now, had a thousand questions about about owls which led to questions about birds and flight, which led to how our bones are not hallow, which led to more questions....and also, a lightbulb teacher moment for me.

Time to do an in-depth unit on Wildlife Biology.  Taking cues from Noah's interests, I dug out our books on animal tracks (and a younger version for Max), as well as some basic fact books.  In a Waldorf school, fourth or fifth grade students often study the relationship between animals and humans, and I leaned on that a bit too-- pulling animal/human interaction books for him to read like Grayson and Wesley the Owl (Wesley is great if you edit chapters 11-13 basically out-- it talks a lot about owl mating, and I'm not ready to explain what it means for Wesley to have a owl "orgasm" on his human love's arm).  We also ordered the Waldorf books The Human Being and Animal World and Muscles and Bones (anatomy is technically taught in the seventh grade in Waldorf, but Noah's been doing bits and pieces of this subject for some time now anyway...the Kingfisher Body Book and the Human Body Book are good resources).  

More than just the science, more than reports or facts, I want this unit to be about stories. And art. Armed with some oil crayons and a sketch book to document everything Noah learns (and a main lesson book from Paper Scissors Stone and block crayons for Max), we dive into our added subject.  I love the way we can intersect the concrete word of information with the world of beauty and connection.  It brings the heart into learning. It creates pages full of information, but also, full of personality that I do so believe Noah will come back to again and again.

 Main lesson books-- places where art and facts meet-- are found throughout all the ages of Waldorf schooling, but we haven't been using this idea since Noah grew into a more classical curriculum. Watching both boys sit at the table, drawing and exchanging ideas, pulling out important information to serve as decoration to a page, however, makes me understand we'll do this so much more often.  It can be as simple as a handmade book (paper, three hole punches, a recycled cardboard cover and some string work fine) or as fancy as this bruised but still lovely sketch book, and the subject matter is endless. Especially for mamas with little ones who may not love to write, this seems like a perfect way to explore and document without complaint....and even better-- with joy (of course, the "habitat" page is yet to have any actual writing between those pictures. funny how that works).  

When I'm getting ready for a new unit of learning, I write down some activities/ideas I'd like to accomplish with the boys.  Sometimes we stick right to my list, and sometimes, as their interests shift, we shift too.  Here's a sample from what we've just started working on::

::Both Noah and Max::

taking hikes with guide books, recording animals in our backyard

listing animals, guessing what else may reside there, hunting for specific tracks, scat and signs

drawing our area's animals, habitats, food sources

::Noah:: 

reading animal stories-- Wesley, Grayson, Kipling's Just So Stories, local Native American tribal stories-- drawings for all

reading animal information books, specifically on animals that live in our area- drawings and record information

read, discuss, investigate why a bird like the northern hawk owl would be so far from "home."  Look at habitat reductions, low food sources, resourcefulness of animals, etc.

reading from Human Beings and the Animal World and drawing/writing summaries in sketch book; continue to explore the differences between animals, humans through anatomy study-- specifically studying systems and dna.

get to play around on interactive sites like frogguts.com (seriously) and anatomyarcade.com

::Max::

draw pictures of each animal that we think lives near or visits our yard.  look at animals that would definitely not live in our yard, explore why--

read animal stories like Rabbit Hill and The Long Winter, revisit the Beatrix Potter books and draw a favorite scene

write a recipe for wildlife food, make recipe, take hike in woods to spread the seeds.

document birds that are still here.  

make up an animals in the winter (to hibernate or not hibernate) puppet show with mama and perform for the family.

go outside and role play our favorite animals-- how they move, eat, etc. Spend time noticing how we are different (we can't run in the sun as fast as deer or rabbits, we can't hear food scurrying about several feet under fresh powder like owls...)

and make the occasional salt dough porcupine...what? porcupines can't be blue?

 

This is going to be so. much. fun! 

...and if you haven't already, leave a comment here or here to be eligible for the giveaway ending Wednesday! 

in fairness

remember my cleaning streak the other day?  my spotless kitchen, and triumph over dust tarantulas?  

 Um, yeah.  In fairness:

Just sayin'.

It has been a tough week in terms of finding balance (or even remembering what that word means).  New freelance work and new opportunities come with an old internal struggle of work and home and insecurities in both.  I also totally forgot to post pictures of the beautiful necklace I mentioned in the giveaway 

It is handmade by GlassAli-- an etsy shop I'd strongly suggest checking out.  Alison is a lampwork bead artist (and my amazing friend) and has everything from handstamped charms that you can put your loves' names on to owl pendants made from glass.  

If you win, you also will get a pack of seasons round photograph notecards, made by me. 

 So if you haven't done so already, go ahead and leave a comment on this post to enter.  I'll announce the winner on Wednesday.  And also, if you add the Mothers Acting Up Daily Action button to your blog, I'll double your chances. Just email me and tell me you've done so.  Happy weekend. 

  

Rise Up: Stories from the Mother Net

 

 

Four years ago, a friend of mine, Copland, and I had sushi and attended a lecture that  focused on the urbanization of Africa, and specifically on the slums of Nairobi.  The former peace corps worker speaking described  with vivid details the pit toilets, plastic bag-strewn roadways, and dilapidated shacks that made up the infamous slums.  Sitting in the parking lot after the lecture-- one that ended with a plea for everyone to do their part to no longer allow people to live in such squalor-- I noticed how cold it was for a spring night.  It was March, and the chill felt more like December, when there is still more dark than light.  It was a bit surreal, really, getting ready to drive home and kiss my two boys, undoubtedly asleep in warm beds.  We had spent a hour looking at images that made the humanitarian in me weep, and the mother in me rage.

I felt paralyzed enough that I'm not sure I even turned the car on when Copland began to speak.  She told me about a calendar she'd received in the mail-- a beautiful weekly planner that had stories of women making a difference in this world on every page.  As she spoke, her words began tumbling out with greater and greater purpose: a very specific idea was now being articulated.  The organization that put out the calendar, Mothers Acting Up, was dedicated to joyfully and passionately advocating for the world's women and children.  The group was based in Boulder, Colorado, and was just beginning to branch out-- and we could form our own chapter in northern Michigan.  

Which we did, almost immediately. And in addition to being able to connect more than 80 local women to the important work of using our collective voices for change, we were able to fund a village bank in Haiti, purchase a Playpump for a South African village, and in three short years, raise $100,000+ for local non-profits during an annual Alternative Gift Fair.  Copland went on to host a restorative yoga session and spearhead a campaign that brought over four hundred Stand for the World's Children signed postcards to our local representative.  We've met with politicians.  We've spoken to reporters.  We've acted up-- with a joy like I've never known. 

And it all started with a feeling of solidarity. A supportive nudge and a connection of hearts.  A movement that will quite possibly change the world. And that movement is Mothers Acting Up.

I'm blessed and honored to present an interview with Joellen Raderstorf, director and one of the four founding mamas of this now internationally known non-profit.  Mothers Acting Up does the important work of helping women find their voice-- and giving them the tools, support, and community to help exercise it.  Without further ado....

 

How did becoming a mother spark your passion for advocacy?

Joellen: I began asking questions, like: What will the world look like when my children, my grandchildren are adults? I wanted to actively participate in answering those questions, I wanted to help shape the world my children would inherit.

In what ways do you think women in general have the power to make positive changes in the world?

Joellen:  1) We are raising the next generation. The seeds we plant and the choices we model will live on forever.

2) We spend the money. Every purchase ripples out into the world and has an impact. It's important for us as mothers-- and the most courted consumers-- to demand that our purchases are having a net positive impact. 

3) We are a large voting block, therefore if we engaged fully in our democracy, our elected officials would have no other choice but to listen.

Could you say a bit about Mothers Acting Up-- how it started and where it is going?

When we started Mothers Acting Up, we’d didn’t focus much on goals. It was truly an in the moment endeavor. We knew deep down that if we could in engage enough mothers in advocating on behalf of the world’s children, we could create a world worth handing over to our children. Mothers have the ability to see connections far into the future and we know the importance of taking care of everyone. Whether we have 4 or 40 mouths to feed, we know that we must feed all. Leaving some behind is not an option.

While MAU has reached mothers in all 50 states and 24 countries, the movement is just beginning to take hold. We just launched the first 100+ Mother Leader Mamafesto, a template/structure of how 100 mothers in communities can reach a million mothers in order to shift policy for millions of children. MAU recently coached 100 mothers from around the country to engage their community and their Member of Congress to call for the designation of a Children’s Ambassador – reporting directly to Secretary of State Hillary Clinton – to prioritize, and coordinate critical children’s programs in the foreign aid budget. MAU is partnering with a coalition of organizations that are part of Global Action for Children. We hope to apply this structure to some of the many issues that need to be addressed in the coming years, from the preservation of precious ecosystems that clean our air and water, to the education of children, especially girls, as a way to create a more secure world.

In the busy world of being a mother, how do you sustain your heart for activism?

Joellen: In truth, activism is the only thing besides my family that truly feeds my soul. It’s an antidote for all the bad news. I can’t bare the thought of handing a mess of a world over to my children. And while this is probably not the most healthy motivation, I try to balance my activism with dinner every night with my family, long walks with my dog, and Qigong (it’s all about breathing).

Sometimes mothers-- especially mothers of young children-- simply feel too overwhelmed to do much in the way of activism.  Do you have some advice to share, or some small actions they can do to feel involved?

Joellen: This is really the hardest realization for me. Young mothers often see the interconnectedness more clearly, as if it’s a physiological ability to see that happens at birth, and then gradually fades away as societal norms require us to take on other priorities like school choice, snack calendars, birthday extravaganzas and kitchen remodels. Acting up doesn’t mean we need to give up volunteering in our child’s classroom. It means finding a balance of serving our own children and working to shape the world they will inherit.

Spending 5 minutes a day envisioning the world they want for their children can be enough for young mothers. 1 hour of action a month in the form of sending a letter to our members of Congress, a letter to the editor, or hosting a movie night for friends showing (M)other or Girl in the Café can and will make a differnece.

Other advice:

Trust yourself.

Spread love.

Hold on to your vision for the world no matter how many people tell you that you are being unrealistic or naïve.

Try not to judge your value as a mother, just love being one. I once asked a wise mama friend if she ever asked herself if she was a good mom. Her answer, “No I don’t; I love being a mom so it doesn’t matter if I’m good at it.”

This year especially, Mothers Acting Up is helping people engage without it feeling overwhelming. Tell us a little bit about your Daily Action campaign. 

Joellen: Start integrating action into our lives daily without judgment of ourselves. MAU offers small bite size educational bits accompanied by bite sized actions. We want to put a large statement -- proclaimer  (a positive disclaimer) -- assuring mothers that they don't have to worry about to keeping up with the actions every day, because the right actions will find them. 

Before long, each of us will begin to take advantage of daily opportunities to make the world a better place for our children and their global peers. By joining together with other mothers acting up we can show up on the radar screen of policy makers, a massive leveraging of our impact. 
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Amazing, isn't she?  There will be other opportunities to read more of Joellen's wise words soon, and I'm working to include a few more amazing MAU mavens in this series along the way.  Right now, I'd like to invite you all to add this button:

 

which links to MAU's website and their daily actions, to your blog.  Become part of the collective voice...because my, when we roar together, we are heard loud and clear.  Also, I'd like to leave you with this video, which brings tears of hope to my eyes...

Visit Mothers Acting Up-- become part of this amazing group of women who are answering the call Julia Ward Howe set forth when she said "Arise! Arise all women who have hearts..."

one thing leads to another...

Remember that Shel Silverstein poem about Sarah Silvia Stout who would not take the garbage out?  I had a moment this weekend, as I was perched cliff-hanger style on top of my dryer trying to tape the edges of the cabinet-- so I could do this, which is now an entire chalkboard wall!--

when I suddenly felt like garbage girl's distant cousin.  As my hand hit the top of the cabinet, I realized just how long it had been since I had dusted up there (in my defense, the tops are high. and in the laundry room).

 

Long enough that the entire surface was gray, not white. Long enough that some of those dust bunnies looked more like dust tarantulas. 

  

Just keeping it real.

And Gross.

The dust busting that started because of a paint job snowballed into a mega organize and deep clean that extended into the kitchen and also, into the coming weeks ahead (I think. I hope). Because while our house isn't really *that* bad, the domestic art of cleaning is not exactly a strong point.  With three little people running around all day, I never seem to stay on top of the stuff that falls about-- so the thought of scrubbing under my stove burners or washing my floorboards is a bit like being able to lasso the moon.  Lovely theory, not so realistic.  Until I sat down with this book today:

something I'd picked up in a grocery store aisle as a whim once but never really took the time to read.  In it, there were a bunch of handy tricks about how to clean different areas of a house, but also, there was a periodic table organizing cleaning tasks into weekly, monthly, every 3-6 months, and yearly schedules. 

(but seriously, who flips their mattress every six months?)

I decided to tackle a few of the bigger projects each week, especially because I now own that lovely little book Make Your Place, which has a host of great, easy-to-make cleaning solutions to try out...This weekend I went to the kitchen, did a purge of unnecessary "stuff," as well as a scrub down of the counters, the oven, the sink, the stove and burners.  There is something so calming and satisfying about having a warm cup of tea in the middle of a free-from-mess kitchen.

And while I know the pristine state of half my house will not last longer than 8:05 a.m., I also feel like I've emerged from the baby abyss enough now (I know, almost two seems a bit long to be using the newborn excuse) to look at our daily routines and rhythms and try to find some way to better involve everyone in the upkeep of the house.  I set up a chore chart for the kids-- we are big fans of having them pitch in-- using both words and pictures so that everyone understands what's expected of them.

I didn't really add much to anyone's job list, but I'm hoping this visual reminder keeps us on track to accomplish these tasks every day.  I also some basic responsibilities we all have-- making our beds, taking care of our belongings, etc.-- and an "earn" pocket (a bit like Amanda Soule's family  board, although a lot less crafty) for those above-and-beyond jobs like cleaning the floors or scrubbing the bathrooms or doing laundry.

    

My children are all at very different stages developmentally, but these little snipits of work seem to suit where they are just fine.  In case you can't read above, here's the list (and ages)

Noah, 10:: 

* take out the compost * clean out the fireplace ashes * stack wood inside for nightly fire * feed the dogs * clean the upstairs bathroom

Max, 5:: 

* Put the silverware away after it is washed (minus any sharp knives) * pick up toys * sweep the floor * set the dinner table

Lizzie, almost 2::

* help with the toys * help sweep the floor * help with the laundry * ring the dinner bell

My goal is both to continue to include everyone in our daily household responsibilities, but also, to show the kids that when we take the time to care for our home, we appreciate it so very much more.  I know that scrubbing cabinets today gave me the opportunity to realize how blessed I am to have a home at all, and how that blessing comes with a desire to care for this space to the best of my abilities.  So I'm vowing to make these little cleaning projects function like meditations.  It seems like a shift I can handle, when broken into small doses...and when my husband says he'll take over all toilet and shower scrubbing duties each week:) 

As I type this, I'm staring up at a ceiling fan that has not been cleaned since last spring, and I'm saying to it, in my best tough-girl voice, "Dust tarantulas, beware.  I'm armed with a spray bottle of homemade, lavender scented goodness, and I'm not taking prisoners." Okay, I know that sounds a little more like housecleaner Rambo than a meditation. But still.    

quiet space

I've been doing a lot of freelance writing this week.  Combined with the big announcement a couple days ago, I'm finding myself out of words.  And that's probably a good thing, since it led my camera and I to take a walk along the lakeshore and soak in some of the light we've been blessed with in the last few days. 

 A walk with a camera. Something about that just opens the eyes to the world in a different way, don't you think?  Through my view finder I saw

:: the transition from water to ice

  
 :: the stark contrast of color blue skies can create

 

:: Sparkle

 :: Skeletons

 :: Soaring

:: Silence

:: Beauty

     

Happy weekend everyone!

Rise Up: Stories from the Mother Net

 

I remember the wee morning hours after giving birth to my first baby.  I sat so still, taking in tiny fingers and toes as if my life depended on committing every inch of this new being into my memory.  I felt like we were the only two people in existence.  

10 years, and two more babies later, I know that something else happens each time we welcome a new life into this world.  There is a moment, just as those tiny lungs fill with air, when time seems to stand not still, but together.  It is a split second of connection between centuries of mothers and babies; a primal thread that rises up and explodes, leaving shrapnel in the form of instinct and community behind.

I mused over this idea last year with a friend as we sat having tea one afternoon at her kitchen table.  We had been watching through the windows as four of our children sloshed around in rain boots, fresh spring mud catching their heels and spraying up onto their hands and faces.  Lizzie slept nestled against me. The cadence of her breathing was calm and slow.  

“Becoming a parent creates a whole new level in our well of emotions,” my friend said.  “It gives us this protective roar, one that can turn the world upside down in the most amazing ways.”

I thought about that for a moment—the notion that mothering brings forth a desire to protect and care for not just our babies, but all children. 

“We have a collective voice.”  I said, sipping my tea slowly, as I added up in my mind the many women who are making a difference.  There are those in my community; grandmothers who serve as mentors to elementary school girls, young mothers that stock food pantries with their babes slung around them.  There are those on the global stage, from Wijdan Salim, the Iraqi Minister for Human Rights; to Jean Shinoda Bolen, an activist convinced that women can, when connected, bring peace to the planet.  

And in that moment (though I did not yet realize it), Rise Up: Stories from the Mother Net was born.  It's a project that will in some ways return me to my journalism roots, and will begin as a series of interviews and essays focusing on Mothering and joyful activism for this blog.  As it takes shape, there will likely be additional components too, and there's a good chance it will end up in a much more tangible format (as in one with a front and back cover).  These stories will be made of the transformative power of birth; the stuff of the net we form as women who work to make a difference; the words and actions we use to teach our own children empathy and good works.  It will document the many ways we rise up singing in joy and love and fierce protection.  

I'm so excited about the ever-growing line up of amazing women you'll be hearing from, including Peggy O'Mara (I know!), founder and editor-in-chief of Mothering Magazine; Joellen Raderstorf, one of the founders of Mothers Acting Up, an internationally-reaching organization encouraging women to publicly and passionately advocate for the world's children (I know! Again!).  I'll also be sharing stories of hope from women like Bhavia Wagner, founder and director of the organization Friendship with Cambodia.  And I'll be sharing stories of everyday actions-- big and small-- that are impacting communities in amazing ways, from women just like you and me.  These voices are the threads of our net.  And they are strong.  And they are beautiful.

Next Wednesday I'll kick off the interviews with Joellen Raderstorf, because her organization embodies everything I want this project to be about:: support, celebration, collective voice and personal action. With her interview, I'll also be kicking off the first of a slew of giveaways-- books, magazine subscriptions, action toolkits, crafts-- all tying into whatever essay or interview is on tap that week.  I'm hoping this is going to be a space filled with joy and inspiration....and a call, mamas, to arise!