What me, crunchy?
My first thought was, “Nah, no way, not me! I shave my armpits (in the summer, anyway) for crying out loud. And I bathe regularly (albeit with local, handmade soap). And I don’t have white girl dreadlocks, just curly tangles tucked in my college alumni baseball cap.”
I took a sip of my home brewed sun tea, wondering if I had taken my daily encapsulated placenta pill or not. The cloth diapers were drying on the clothesline and I technically wasn’t wearing a bra (disclaimer: I had on a tank top with one of those built in bra deals and hey, it was a Saturday.).
Crimeny Jane…Could I be crunchy? What is the definition of crunchy? If I am crunchy, is that so bad?
Or could it be that I was just being myself?
I like gardening. My daygo grandfather has had a garden for decades.
I like hanging the clothes out on the line to dry. The smell of sunshine wins me over every time.
I love my home birth experiences as challenging and carnal as they were. I would do them all over again.
I love my handmade soaps, lovingly created by a work at home mama. I feel good supporting her and her products are divine.
Bras are bogus. Who needs them? Set those girls free (on the weekends anyway).
The placenta pill? That’s one for another day.
There are so many definitions of what kind of mother you are anymore. There are so many labels. So many ways to fit in or not. It’s like the high school cafeteria all over again. And what does it matter?
Can’t we just agree that we are all mothering in a way that we like? A way we deem fit? Because if that is the case and the aforementioned is the partial definition of crunchy or granola or what have you, then sign me up. I’m in. Ah, what can I say? I guess I am a tad bit crunchy. A wee bit granola. So what?
But that brings me to another question…if we are all mothering in our own manner and style, doesn’t that make us all kinda crunchy then?
This is an original Ohio Moms Blog post. Kiki La Roo is a self-proclaimed Birth Junkie and blogs endlessly about homebirth at www.kikilaroo.wordpress.com.