Only Slightly Crunchy…or How Do I Measure Up To My Mom?

 

My mom, June Smith, with her camera.

crunchy-granola (crunch·y-gra·no·la): adjective, slang.  People who embrace such practices as eating whole, organic foods, home gardening, wearing only natural fabrics, lean to the left, practice yoga, make their own yogurt, spin yarn from the wool from their farm, (SHEA), whilst eschewing the pressures to conform to society’s standards of beauty and, as a general rule, tend to wear Birkenstocks, and drink Chai or green tea. 

I am good-naturedly and gently poking fun at this way of life because that’s how I grew up.  I was born in the summer of love (a result of free love, no less…another story…) and my parents, well mostly my mom, were raising me in a way that most people my age weren’t.   My mom made everything and taught me what she was doing while she did it.  We picked berries and made jam from it, she learned to tool leather and made sandals for me.  We never ate out.  My mom had an “ecology NOW!” bumper sticker on her  ’63 volvo.  She was an artist and photographer.  We only vacationed by camping in the Sierras.  And while she didn’t wear patchouli oil for perfume, she was constantly announcing what to, or what not to believe in.  “Question authority!”  “Subvert the dominant paradigm!!”  She went to women’s empowerment groups. 

I went to a pre-school co-op where we made our own tofu and drank coconut milk.  Then, as time marched on and I came of age in the 80’s.  I embraced cosmetics and hair products (we still said products back then…not product) I saved all my babysitting money so that I could buy Esprit clothes from the outlet in San Francisco.  But, I drove my mom’s old volvo, bumper sticker and all.  I only kinda sorta looked the part. 

So as I have evolved and got growed up, I kind of dip into both worlds of polished outside, crunchy inside.  I like to decorate my house but I’m also really into organic gardening and other crunchy pursuits. 

When it came time for me to be a mom, I was planning on heading back to my mom’s way. I had it all figured out.  I would have an unmedicated birth, nurse perfectly for 2 years, use only cloth diapers, make my own strained, organic baby food, and sew Zannie’s clothes myself.  We would never eat at McDonald’s or buy frozen, prepared foods.   We would never watch tv, or buy Disney princess movies that showed women that they were rather useless until they found their princes.  I was only going to buy wood toys and Waldorf dolls from The Magic Cabin catalog and not one single thing that even remotely resembled a video game. 

I fully admit and state for the record right here and right now that I’ve broken every single one of those rules.  You know why?  Because real life gets in the way.  Zannie was in fetal distress and I had a c-section.  Nursing was difficult and once established I ‘only’ nursed for her 16 months.  Cloth diapers and me were not a match made in heaven and I found that there were great organic baby foods ready for the buying at most any grocery store I went to.  I have yet to sew a dress, and the freezer is fully stocked.  Suzannah fell in love with Elmo at the age of two like he was a rock star.  She has fully embraced the color pink as a lifestyle, not just as a color and adores all Disney princesses.  It hurts my inner hippy, it really does.  But I’ve totally given in come to terms with all of it.   I have softened as I’ve grown up and older and I’m glad for it.  So now, oftentimes while I’m cooking quinoa and local vegetables from the farmer’s market, Zannie is watching Mulan for the 150th time and I’m thinking, “Wow…that Mulan, she really kicks the huns’ ass.” 

I was going to try and be a perfect mom.  I was going to be like my mom in the ways that I had loved.  But, I got over myself one McNugget at a time.  So, while in my last post I found out that I’m a Phat mom, I’d like to think that under all that phat is a groovy mother hen whose heart is tye-dyed. 

I know that my mom would be proud of me and the kind of parent I am if she were still alive.  I keep her alive through lots of the things I teach my girls.  Zannie, at the age of 4 had planted an organic herb garden with me and had put in the red wiggler worms in herself.  She eats spinach and tomatoes straight out of the earth.  She colors outside the line and that is celebrated.  I see that fighting spirit in her that is a result of the example my mom set. I really wish she were still alive to enjoy her granddaughters and to teach them the things that I’m forgetting or too tired or lazy to do.  It would be wonderful to have the three generations of women all together. 

Here’s to you mom.  I do my best to continue on with the things you taught me.  Mostly you taught me that usually the hard way produces the best results.  Don’t waste time.  Always have a project and keep your brain busy.  Read good books and teach yourself how to do stuff.  Don’t read the directions.  I’m trying mom.  Without you here, it’s not as fun, but I’m doing my best.  And I’ve come to accept that my best is good enough.  My girls are proof.