Archives for March 2015

Are Mini-Muffins Sexy?
by Corbin Lewars

About eight years ago I walked into one of my favorite bookstores with my toddler boy and baby girl strapped to my chest. After choosing a couple of books about bugs, we stood in line to pay. On display near the cash register was a little novelty book called something along the lines of “mommy porn.” I squealed with delight! Finally, someone is talking about moms and sex. I was quickly dismayed to see what constituted as mommy porn was a man vacuuming a rug and a man folding laundry. My heart sank and my labia shriveled. Damn, that’s not sexy, I thought. And I’m insulted that someone assumes I would think it is.

My husband at the time was probably home folding laundry at that moment and although I appreciated our equality (or somewhat equal, let’s be honest, does anyone really have an equal division of labor in their home?), it didn’t make me want to do a strip tease for him. I started thinking about our fear of combining the words “sexy” and “mother” and blogged and ranted about it for a few months. Need I remind you this was eight years ago. The term “MILF” did not exist nor did Shades of Grey. And in my Seattle neighborhood most of the moms said, “I’m too tired to think about sex or what’s sexy,” when I asked.

Then Sadie came to me. Sadie is a character in my novel Swings, not a real person, but if you’re a writer (or a mom) I assume you are quite familiar with the art of talking to yourself, your cat or made up people in your mind. So back to Sadie I went over and over again. During our eight years of conversing, what Sadie desired and what she was attracted to changed and morphed, but what remained was to be listened to and to be validated. Mothering can be lonely. It’s often a game of “tag, you’re it” and as one parent walks in the door, the other walks out. Or maybe you’re a single parent like me. And reaching out to other moms isn’t always helpful because until you find your tribe, other moms may seem judgmental, sanctimonious and as if they genuinely enjoy every blueberry smashed into their carpet and every nonsensical babble their toddler utters while you’re merely counting down the minutes until your little urchins go to bed.

During those times, we don’t need someone to tell us how to do it better, we need someone to say, “I know, it sucks. What can I do for you?” Maybe the “do for you” is a back massage, maybe it’s being brought a glass of wine, maybe it’s being listened to while you explain the ups and downs of your day, or maybe it’s all three. It doesn’t matter what it is, what matters is that you feel heard and supported. If having someone vacuum your carpet or make you mini muffins makes you feel supported and validated, then by all means ask for that. Because asking for what we want and having our desires met is very sexy.

Bio:
Corbin Lewars (www.corbinlewars.com) began writing books when she was five years old. If you count the ones that are glued and stapled she is the author of twenty-nine books. If you don’t, she is the author of three: Creating a Life: The memoir of a writer and mom in the making, which was nominated for the 2011 PNBA and Washington State book awards, the divorce guidebook Losing Him, Gaining You (2013) and novel Swings (2015). Her essays have been featured in over twenty-five publications, including Mothering, Stories with Grace, Hip Mama and several anthologies. She blogs for the Seattle PI and was the founder of the zine Reality Mom for eight years and the editor of Verve, a Seattle women’s magazine, for two. For the past fifteen years she has freelanced as a developmental editor and writing coach. She holds a Master’s in Education and teaches writing classes at national conferences. When not writing, or thinking about writing, she can be found shaking her groove thing with her two children in Seattle.

In 2014, I wrote a controversial viral article for HuffPost Parents called 3-Year-Olds Are A**holes. The piece was satirical in nature. It allowed me the chance to voice my frustrations as the parent of a rambunctious three-year-old. I was having a challenging parenting day, where my daughter was not listening to anything I said. She refused to wear clothes, and had spilled at least five cups of water on the floor on purpose. I was at my wits end as a parents.

We’ve all been there. That’s what I wanted to communicate in writing 3-Year-Olds Are A**holes; the thoughts that go through your mind when you are having trouble getting your spirited 3-Year-Old to go along with your plan of putting clothes on and going outside.

Naturally, with a controversial title, I have been attacked many times by people on the Internet. What the Internet failed to conceptualize is that this article was meant to be humorous in nature. It was meant to poke fun at the challenges of parenting. Parenting is the hardest thing I’ve ever done.

When I began writing a parenting blog, I noticed the amount of blogs out there where moms felt the need brag about how wonderful they were. The text was about how they were succeeding raising their children without any obstacles. This rang false to me, as someone who is a human being with flaws. You are not perfect, your child is not perfect, because perfection in parenting is mythical. It doesn’t exist.

I wanted to expand on the idea of three being a challenging age. So I wrote an adult humor book entitled 3-Year-Olds Are Aholes. 3-Year-Olds Are Aholes, the book, is the story of 3-year-old Samantha, who is determined to make a rainbow, no matter what happens. An iPhone may or may not end up in the toilet in the process. You’ll have to read the book to find out.

On a personal note, I love my children more than anything in the entire world. It saddens me that there are children out there who suffering from abuse. I am passionate about advocating against child abuse. That is why 10 percent of the profits from sales of 3-Year-Olds Are A**holes, the book, will be donated to ChildHelp, a non-profit organization dedicated to helping victims of child abuse.

3-Year-Olds Are A**holes the book (published by Booktrope) will be releasing 4/30/15. My hope is that it gives parents a good laugh. I sincerely hope that we can learn to laugh at ourselves, because if we do not laugh, we will cry.

Visit 3yearoldsareassholes.com

I’ve Had A Headache My Whole Life
by Sabrina Jonkhoff

Eight years. The longest relationship I have been in has lasted for eight years. My headache has lasted longer than most things: braces, boyfriends, bad taste in music—they’ve never lasted this long. But here I am, 23 years old and in the longest relationship of my life.

My entire adult life has been influenced by the constancy that is my head pain. I don’t like to say that my pain has defined my entire adult life (because I have fought so hard to be better than my pain and push myself even when the pain wants me to stop, to rest), but in many ways, it has defined my adult life. I simply do not know what being a pain-free adult feels like…but I would really like to know. When I see a new doctor, I tell them that I just want a day. Give me one, pain-free day and I’ll do this for another eight years.

I managed to get through high school and college with my pain. It was fucking d i f f i c u l t most of the time, but I knew I would regret not pushing myself to accomplish all of my academic goals. Though I had to make some modifications for myself, I still did it. I studied history & women’s and gender studies, wrote a kick ass thesis, and graduated with departmental honors in both of my majors. Some people say I made it look easy, but they weren’t looking closely. Every day was a struggle, every page written a huge feat, every class attended an accomplishment.

I couldn’t have done it without the love and support of my family, professors, and friends. Being in pain at a small, liberal arts university environment was a privilege I did not fully recognize until after graduation. I had this support system that was enmeshed in everything I did. When graduation time came, I was shocked and unsure what to do next. I had graduated from college but had not graduated from my pain. There I was: grown-up Sabrina with a bachelor’s degree trying to figure out the next part of the Plan, pain and all.

I’m now just shy of being one year out of college. This past year has taken me (and my pain) on unimaginable journeys. And while I wouldn’t trade what I learned on those journeys, I hate where I’m at right now.

After I graduated, my headache and I moved to the Mississippi Delta to “teach” for America. It wasn’t what we wanted to do, but it seemed like a safe option. We moved, we knew it wasn’t for us, we hopped on a plane back to California in a matter of days.

Next up we started to work at the retail store where we had spent a few summers already. A part-time retail gig seemed great because we would have time to rest. But being on my feet all day and dealing with the craziness that is retail proved difficult. Difficult as it was, I stuck it out until my next opportunity presented itself.

Publishing was the next step. After having spent the summer before my Senior year of college as an intern at the MIT Press, I felt drawn to the publishing world. My return from Mississippi brought a whirlwind of applications to a whole host of University presses (mostly on the East Coast). I don’t like to make things easy for myself, do I??? Move across the country from your support system, Sabrina! That will be a great idea!

After getting an offer to be an Administrative Assistant at the Oxford University Press (a great entry-level opportunity at an acclaimed press), I accepted and made the move to New York City. I’ve now been here for 119 days, and things are becoming increasingly difficult. I have a hard time talking about it because I have been so loved and supported through this process of moving and establishing a life for myself in New York that I don’t want to come across as ungrateful. But the reality is that having a headache has always been hard, and having a headache as an adult with a full-time job in New York City is even more challenging.

Despite the pain, I’ve always had a plan and known how to handle things. I’m scared because that is becoming more and more difficult. I want to live a healthy, balanced, thriving life but I don’t know what that looks like in a city as overwhelming and isolating as New York. I don’t know what it looks like to have a social life when, after a full day at work, I’ve reached the end of my pain tolerance and I just need to go home and lay flat and still for a few hours. I don’t know what dating looks like with my headache. I’ve been on a few dates and I’ve not told the men about my pain (not a great part of my meet-cute and something I don’t usually tell people until I’ve built up some trust). As I navigate adulthood, I become scared that I won’t be able to have the kind of life I have always (happily) envisioned for myself. I want to have a fulfilling career and meet the love of my life and have a house full of babies and go to SoulCycle on Thursday nights!

Like mental illness, chronic pain is really difficult to talk about. For me, people don’t think I look sick or disabled or unwell in any way. What isn’t recognized is the great deal of effort that goes behind looking “normal” day-to-day. It takes a lot to look pain-free. Even my closest friends can’t always tell when it’s a “bad pain day.” It’s a slight change in tone of my voice, a change in the way I carry myself, a look in my eyes.

I’m a really open person, so keeping my pain hidden from most and trying so hard every day to appear pain-free is a struggle for me on a moral level. I want to be my best, most true self and part of that self is my pain. I don’t want to wear it in such a way that garner’s sadness and sympathy, but sometimes I wish I had the courage to display it in a way that garnered awareness about chronic pain.

So right now, I’m struggling. It feels good to say it because as the old adage goes, once you acknowledge the problem, you’re part way to reaching a solution. I hope that there is a solution in the midst of this crazy transition I’m experiencing in New York. I hope that I am guided to make the right choices and take the proper next designated steps.

Because I’m in the longest relationship of my life, and I think it’s time to break up.

Sabrina is the Project Manager for Stigma Fighters. She lives in New York City and often eats brownie sundaes with Sarah at The Chocolate Room. Follow her on Twitter here!