Girlie Day

Today has been a day full of errands.  Odd runs here and there disjointed like the movements of a piano concerto.  Somehow the closing of the piece ties together all of the loose ends.  It all fits and makes sense.  There is no more dissonance, only resolution.

The random running began with a well-earned trip to the Disney store with Isabelle.  She'd never been before.  It was awesome.  She was more than a little awestruck.  Not wild (honestly, apeshit) as I anticipated, but cool and a little blissed out.  We counted out the saved Christmas money, and she picked out just what she wanted.  The first favorite was a purse filled with pink jewel dress-up accessories, "Because I don't have things to go with my PINK dress, Mama."  At our house, one must match in costume.  No wild, disorganized get-ups.  Outfits per the princess's orders.  She is never Cinderella when in a blue Cinderella dress.  "It's just Isabelle IN a Cinderella costume," she is quick to say.  Funny kid and neat to see the complexities of preference and personality are very present even at four.  In close second was a zipper pouch filled with colored pencils, markers, a ruler--school stuff.  My mother described it perfectly when she said, "Oh for making trash.  Yeah, she does that at my house, too."  Sorry, dear daughter, fine arts abilities don't run on my side.  I'm thrilled for her to play in it and enjoy it all, but I won't be saving any of it for an exhibit at the Met in decades to come.

Quick ride on Pumba

So, home again, home again, jiggety jig after stopping to have froyo for lunch.  Mama was SO much cooler than usual today.  As soon as Will went down for a nap, I ran to a local junktique store looking for a birth stool rumored to be in some store past Walmart.  Score!  It was there.  I didn't get it.  What on earth will I do with that?  It won't be seeing any action in the near future if ever at my house.  Maybe for an office later, but our house is bursting at the seams already.

The birthing chair

On to the health foods store--how I love Five Seasons in downtown Ocean Springs.  Jan and Paul are incredubly knowledgeable and helpful.  I'm hunting for a home remedy for my sweet kitty who has feline herpes virus.  No laughing, it's very common in feral cat colonies or unhygienic places where cats are overcrowded.  Both of those describe her humble beginnings from what I can gather.  It's pitiful.  She pukes all the time, has rotten teeth, and has upper respiratory symptoms periodically with outbreaks.  We are currently having an outbreak.  So far, probiotics, grain-free crunchies, grain-free canned food just for her, plus olive leaf extract (gag, it's vile) are really helping.  She is still snot rocket sneezing, albeit less often, so I picked up some colloidal silver to treat the infection.  The outbreaks always come with a wicked upper respiratory infection.  I'm trying to avoid the vet, because the only way of treating there is with anitbiotics which kill ALL of her gut flora.  With an autoimmune issue at the root, I hate to level her defenses and kill all the beneficial cooties.

From the heath food store to the grocery store for a beer run, quite a bit in fact.  The weather is pretty.  We love sitting outside.  Beer is practically required to rock on the back porch on nice, warm evenings.  By this time, I've decided that the birthing stool is the perfect early Mother's Day gift for myself.  I mean, really, if this simple, hand hewn piece of history was picked up by someone not in the know because it was a cute little chair for wherever, what a loss!  I have imagined it's tragic end by this point--getting broken and tossed out with the trash.  Think of all the stories lost if it sits unappreciated in some corner.  That seems worse than being broken and discarded. 

The lady at the store grins when I come in the store again.  She knew I'd be back.  The first time, she told me about all three of her births.  Her kids are grown, my age-ish.  This stuff sticks, folks.  Anecdotal experiences like this morning, the random stories of ladies I've met, the research I love--it's sure nice when science backs up what I've suspected as elderly ladies tell me what they remember vividly of their experiences.

I now own a birthing chair, or birthing stool.  I'm glad I bought it.  It may be a silly way to spend money, but both of my grandfathers were born at home in rural areas of Mississippi within a couple of hours of here.   Maybe there were seats like this where they were born.  Maybe not.  I think both were caught by their grandmothers.  I can personally attest to the importance of something sturdy to hang on to when giving birth--squatting bar with Isabelle and the handles of the birth tub with  Will.

My dad's father was born in his grandparent's home in Wayne county Mississippi almost a year after his mother's first baby was stillborn.  He and his sisters settled on calling her a "community nurse" when they were telling me about her and how they were all born at her house.  Apparently, she served the area in many capacities, assisting the local doctor on house calls and catching babies when needed.

My mom's father was the youngest of five boys born at home in Covington county Mississippi.  I think he came too quickly for the doctor to make it to the house in time.  His grandmother stepped in to catch there, too, I believe.  Just last summer at the family reunion, one of his cousins got up to talk about Granny.  Feisty, tiny, red-headed lady who was hailed a healer and had well-remembered medicinal and flower gardens.  She had the ability to walk in to the sickroom, take a whiff, and discern the fever or illness from the smell.  She taught her daughters how to do this as well and what plants to use.  One of those girls lived well into her hundreds, and I knew her.

If any of that is incorrect, dear family, please correct me.  It's oral history.  Nobody has written this stuff down that I know of, and I'm a couple of generations late for getting the details spot-on.

I love knowing this kind of family history and now owning a piece of local history that is tied to what I do.  It's fascinating and sad all at once that they knew so many things that I am just beginning to re-learn.  We know a lot more now in ways, but we have also lost a lot of knowledge.  Sure, I'm not opposed to medicine and appreciate having access to medical care when we need it, but I can handle a lot at home.  That said, I'm going to watch my squirrely girl wallow in her new stuff, drink a beer, sit outside at the picnic table and bench my crafty husband just threw together, contemplate repurposing a dog house into a chicken coop, and figure out in which pots to attempt rooting the elderberry that is growing wild in the lot next to our house to wrap up my day of randomness.