Tag: motherhood

Enchanted multi-level library with spiral stairs, stained glass, bookshelves, and fireplace
About Me

Minecraft, ACOTAR, and the Invisible Load of Modern Motherhood

Autumn

I have finally gotten myself a library card.

For years I imagined the horrors of trying to keep library books around small rambunctious children, and decided that it was a stress that I didn’t need. However, over the last year I’ve started hearing more about how libraries have expanded out from traditional book-borrowing, and a few days ago my soul-sister told me about Libby.

My soul-sister then informed me that if I didn’t read A Court of Thorns and Roses, she would blackmail me by releasing my old roleplay from 2007 (total fabrication, such a threat never occurred😂).

So, I popped into the library on my way to Walmart to buy Minecraft (a story there), and I exited with a sparkly new library card in hand. Once home, I downloaded Libby, requested A Court of Thorns and Roses, and sent the book to my Kindle. Hurrah, I am literate! There’s a whole new world at my fingertips, just waiting for me to explore it! And the kids can’t rip any pages!

Then 24 hours later it dawned on me that I have only 2 weeks to read this book. Trivial. I read The House of My Mother in about three days, including when I had kids to care for. And yet I still have deadline anxiety.

The problem with coming from a “trad wife” background (which thus far I haven’t heard anyone acknowledge), is that now I struggle with feeling like mom is allowed to look at something other than family and chores. The shaming didn’t just come from my immediate surroundings, but also from every internet post criticizing women for looking at their phones. Do I stare dutifully at my children on the playground, or do I allow myself to read? Guilt free? I can’t finish reading a book in two weeks if I’m stuck staring at children all the time.

Besides, you and I both know that I’m not reading ACOTAR as a mom. I’m reading it as a woman — a woman who is sharing in a bond with other women through common fiction. A woman who is allowed to have friendships with other women.

So ACOTAR starts with the stereotypical thing of the main character being the strong one holding everyone together, while everyone else consumes resources and pitches in nothing. At first I thought that it seemed like a Mary-Sue depiction, establishing that the main character is “not like other women” by portraying other women as inept and spoiled. Then it hit me that what readers were connecting with wasn’t the “not like other women” trope, but instead the feeling of holding the entire damn world together without any help.

That I can relate to.

Oh boy can I relate to that.

Which brings us to my Minecraft story.

I’m sure that everyone knows that Minecraft is basically a staple of childhood. Heck, my kids have had school courses that were heavily integrated with Minecraft, because Minecraft is where it’s at. Modern childhood includes flooding villages with a bucket of water (or lava) and blowing up so much TNT that the computer can’t render the explosion. C’est la vie. But thus far, my kids have all been sharing one account for Minecraft.

Lately my kids have discovered the modding community. They have also discovered Minecraft creepypasta. And they melted my heart when they told me that they wanted to play the creepypasta mods on multiplayer together. I vowed that I would make their dreams come true.

Which ended up being kind of a mistake.

First I created their own Microsoft accounts, which was straightforward. Then I attempted to purchase Minecraft on one of their accounts. It showed up on my credit card, but I received no confirmation email and it wasn’t on the account. I navigated the Microsoft website, which was a labyrinth of links and “self help articles”, until I finally found the “chat with a human” option. I was informed that the purchase was stuck in “payment pending” limbo.

We waited. The kids (disappointed) went to dad’s house for his custody time. I continued waiting, checking everywhere I could think of to see if the payment cleared. Then, after three days, I saw that the purchase had been refunded on my credit card. Payment pending failed.

I tried to purchase Minecraft again. This time I got a message right off the bat about not being able to process the payment. I tried putting money on the kid’s account to buy it directly, and again got the same “unable to process payment” error. Tried a different card. Tried a different browser. Headdesk headdesk headdesk. OMFG Microsoft! Just take my money!

I consulted ChatGPT, who suggested that I buy a copy of the game from Walmart then activate it on my child’s account.

So I stood in line at Walmart, clutching a little piece of cardboard with a picture of Minecraft and a $30 price tag, feeling a bit ridiculous for it. Video games have been a purely digital transaction for years now, yet there I was going old-school-but-not-really. I was so anxious that something else would go wrong, and then I’d be stuck trying to get a refund from Walmart.

I was scared to try activating Minecraft right away, so I did other stuff for awhile like exploring Libby. Once I worked up my courage, I sat down and entered the activation code. I probably didn’t breathe until I had confirmation that it had worked.

Aaaaand that was when I realized that Xbox defaulted the child’s account to block all forms of multiplayer, including LAN. I had not expected that … considering that LAN stands for “Local Area Network” which entails existing in the same house using the same wifi so why would it be blocked?

Seriously, you have no idea how hard it is to find the parental control menus. Between Microsoft, Minecraft, and Xbox, I didn’t know which site I needed to be looking under (Xbox, for you other parents out there). Click click click, ask ChatGPT, ask Google. Go crazy. Finally find the settings, check “Allow multiplayer,” and pull up the Minecraft game again. Still blocked. Close game and launcher to see if that needed to be refreshed. Still blocked. Start a single player game on child’s Minecraft, open to LAN, join using my account. Works. Open Bedrock and discover multiplayer works there. Java multiplayer still blocked. Die a little inside and decide to give up for the day.

My dear sweet precious children, you have no idea. You are going to come home and take it for granted that you can now play Minecraft creepypasta mods together, and no one is going to say, “Thanks for scaling that stupid mountain and sacrificing your soul to the Minecraft Gods for us, mom.” Of course that’s what mom did, because that’s what moms do. The kids have no one else who would do that for them.

So yes, ACOTAR, I am carrying the world on my shoulders in my metaphorical winter. Thank you for validating that.

The cherry on top is that I still need to buy one more copy of Minecraft — all of that had been my test run to make sure that I knew what I was doing. At least this time … I know what I’m doing. Sort of. I don’t remember creating the child’s Xbox account. 😅

Anyway, after I finish the ACOTAR series, my soul-sister has a huge list of books for me to read. And I admit that, for whatever reason, having a library card feels insanely liberating.

About Me

Lucky

Autumn

Whenever we go to the grocery store, our last stop is always the snack aisle for the kids to pick out a little treat, provided that they’ve earned it with good behavior, of course.

Someone else needed to pass by us, so I urged the kids to make room for her to get through. She smiled and said, “You’re so lucky to have a lot of kids.”

Ten years ago when we had our first baby, the general attitude from strangers was the complete opposite — a constant stream of criticism and judgment. Heck, even my health care providers for my prenatal checkups took it upon themselves to lecture me about the virtues of birth control, and treated me as if I had committed some great failure of responsibility. I felt as if everyone in the entire world hated fertility.

All of a sudden this year, I’ve had multiple people say that I’m lucky to have six kids. It’s weird, but refreshing.

I very much feel lucky. It’s been so delightful to watch my babies grow and interact with my smaller babies. I think the best part of life is having people to love.

byautumnrain.com

About Me

Cloth Diapers

Autumn

For people who have been following my blog for awhile, it probably won’t surprise you to learn that I use cloth diapers on my babies. I’m definitely more on the “crunchy” side of things, but I haven’t come across that term in ages, so heck if anyone knows what I’m talking about.

Full disclosure: I supplement with disposables. While I exclusively used cloth diapers with my first three babies, I eventually found it prudent to use disposables during the periods when I can’t keep up with the laundry. I’m not superwoman.

My favorite cloth diapering method is the pocket inserts. They’re convenient, and I don’t have to worry about stabbing baby with a diaper pin (which matters when they reach the extra wiggly stage). The covers come with some really awesome patterns, which also means that I’ve been teased about putting my babies in designer diapers. Ha ha.

However, I would advise that you avoid the microfiber inserts. They are horrible. Go for the cotton ones. Avoid letting dirty diapers sit for more than a couple of days, then line dry them in the sun when you can — it helps sterilize them.

Overall, the cost of diapering a child until 3 years old is much cheaper with cloth diapers, even when you factor in the ph neutral laundry detergent and monthly washing machine cleanings, but honestly, that’s not my main motivating factor.

I mostly feel guilty about the waste.

Even in a supplementary role, the disposables add up quickly, and we have to take the garbage out more often during the periods when I use them. The idea of throwing away so many diapers a day, every day, for three years, per child, is a little too much for me to bear. That’s a lot of waste.

In 2020, it became painfully obvious that no one cares about such concepts, so it feels more important now than ever to hold to my values.

Not to mention, we’re saving a lot of money, and we don’t have to worry about diapers the next time there’s a crazy run on the stores.

About Me

Nearing the end

Autumn

I’m officially nine months pregnant. I know from experience that waiting for the baby to come is the worst way to spend that final stretch … which is why I’m doing exactly that. XD

Given the number of viruses going around, we’ve opted to seclude ourselves already for the sake of being extra careful — don’t want a tiny newborn getting exposed to anything. Of course, with being so heavy and tired, it’s hard to keep up with my regular daily activities, and I’ve gotten to the point of deciding that if I haven’t deep cleaned it yet, I don’t need to. Heck, sometimes I wish that I was more in the habit of mindlessly killing time, but I just don’t have the stomach for too much internet.

So I’m waiting.

One of the things that I dislike about the homebirth community is that, like all groups, most of the members put up a front to make everything seem better than it is. Personally, I think that the very last part of pregnancy is supposed to be miserable, with hormonal changes and the overwhelming feeling of being so done that you can’t even … basically, it’s nature’s way of motivating you to embrace labor and the pain of pushing a human being through your *ahem*. I often feel like I’m the only one who openly says, “This part sucks.”

There’s nothing wrong with hating something — the pleasant and unpleasant are of equal value, and life is best spent honoring both.

Not that I expect anyone to understand.

Personally, I think that it’s a very small price to pay for the sake of gaining a lifetime friend.

art

Cast Iron Brownies with Marshmallows

Autumn

At the end of my third pregnancy, I commented to another mom my age that all I ever wanted to eat was brownies made with real butter. She reacted like I had said something weird — along the lines of, “What else would you make brownies with?”

I didn’t bother to explain that shortening is frequently used as a substitute, or that box brownies usually call for vegetable oil. I’ve always had a lazy streak when it comes to conversations, and I thought that she was the one who was being weird.

Anyway, after months of craving a variety of foods, the last few weeks of pregnancy always boil down to carbs and fat. Like brownies. Baby needs to come out chubby, you see.

Today, I decided to make cast iron brownies.

I use a normal brownie recipe, then bake it in a preheated cast iron pan soaked in butter for extra deliciousness.

As I was getting the batter mixed together, one of my kids asked, “Can we put marshmallows in it?”

And I thought to myself, “Why not?”

So, I put mini marshmallows on top of the brownies for the last five minutes of baking.

They’re so delicious, I’m certain that I have invented a new type of sin. ^.^

About Me

The Importance of Ritual In Childbirth

Autumn

I haven’t been writing about this much, but I’m currently in the third trimester with baby #6. I’ve given birth naturally to all of them, with the exception of the first — through an unfortunate turn of events, I got to learn firsthand that epidurals don’t always work with blocking pain, but they’ll still leave you paralyzed from the waist down. Lucky me!

I don’t really fancy myself as having a higher pain tolerance than others. I’m not remotely the sort that peacefully breathes the baby out either. Heck, I firmly believe that anyone who tries to tell you not to scream while giving birth needs to be promptly cut out of your social circle for good. Go ahead and scream, cry, punch the man responsible, and whatever else you have to do to get through it. Just remember: you are strong enough.

In the homebirth community, it’s common to spend time preparing yourself for labor. Women who are more socially-oriented than I am like to hold blessingways. Instead of bringing gifts for the new baby, invited guests bring positive birth stories and affirmations to bolster the expectant mother through labor, and it’s a wonderful way to come together and support each other in sisterhood.

But I don’t do that, ha ha.

I’m pretty high on the introverted scale, so I prefer quiet introspection over parties with henna tattoos. This isn’t the sort of thing that I want to go into while feeling drained from socializing.

For me, making a “costume” for labor is important. I even plan out which color I’m going to paint my toenails, and how I’m going to style my hair, in addition to what I’ll be wearing. That way, instead of feeling like a tired mom who’s first contraction hit while heating up hotdogs for lunch (true story), I can quickly transition myself into a beautiful Goddess in the process of Creation.

Mindset matters.

Rituals are important tools in influencing mindset. They can be as simple as lighting a candle, or as elaborate as you can imagine. The important part is to establish what you are setting out to do.

And when you’re on the verge of popping out a watermelon, having a firm idea of why you’re doing it helps enormously.

About Me

Motherhood

Autumn

I said to my one-year-old, “Be my baby?”

She shrieked, “NO!” and ran away.

…

Guess I’m just going to have to have another one.

XD

About Me

On Beauty

Autumn

When I was a teenager, my mom took me to her hairstylist for a complete makeover. She braided up my hair, chopped off a full foot, then proceeded to push me into one of the most awkward stages of my teenagehood.

I’ve always been a “wash ‘n go” sort of girl. Never really could get into the habit of using blow dryers, let alone curling irons. Yet I gave that new hairstyle an honest shot, because all of the adult women around me kept going on about how “mature” it made me look, and I was scared of standing up against people back then.

I hated that hair cut. Loathed it. There isn’t a single picture of me smiling with that stupid style. I eventually drifted back to “wash ‘n go,” because that’s my fundamental personality type.

We’re talking about two decades ago here, so I can’t remember the specifics, but I do recall feeling bombarded with criticism from the hairstylist. She went on and on about split ends and breakage, then proceeded to donate my hair to Locks of Love … *eyeroll* The stylist was bad enough I remember asking my mom about it afterwards, and she told me that it was best to ignore the criticism.

But it still bothered me. It bothered me badly enough that I switched over to going to the local college for haircuts, then eventually started doing it myself. When I turned 30, I vowed to never cut my hair again, and I’ve been much happier with my appearance ever since.

I’ve been married for over a decade now. My husband likes to help brush and braid my hair when we get ready for bed, and he always praises how silky and shiny my hair is. Sometimes he even recites poetry. He doesn’t see the split ends or the wispy bits that stick out awkwardly, even though he’s perfectly aware of the horrible things that happen to my hair in the cause of motherhood. He sees the beauty, not the flaws.

That matters far more than the nitpicking opinions of near strangers.

Photo by Bennie Lukas Bester on Pexels.com