“Yes, Vagina, there is a Santa Claus.”

Well I’m happy to report that my vulva candies were a HUGE hit at the annual Church’s Babysitting Co-Op Christmas Party! Nobody greeted me at the door with torches and pitchforks and even some of the most conservative members of the group were eager to learn the recipe. There were a few women who were a little hesitant at first to embrace the vulvas, but once they saw the rest of us gobbling them down and raving about how good they were, they relented and joined in on the vulva-nibbling-fun. And I was totally shocked to hear one of them quoting that recent Oprah episode by saying “Hey, if you don’t love your vulva, nobody else will.” WOW! Wonders never cease. 

And what’s more… I had a wonderful time the other night. You know, I think a big old tray of vulvas was just what this group needed to loosen up a little. Of course the never ending supply of wine surely helped. But also, the vulvas. Definitely the vulvas. 

One of the most spiritual members of the group, who always leads us in a prayer before we eat, even included the tray of vulva candies in her blessing as we all held hands and formed a circle around the kitchen island/buffet table: “Let us pray… oh, let’s pray around the food, including the vulvas! Dear Lord, thank you for bringing us all together safely tonight. Bless us O Lord, and these, Thy Gifts, which we are about to receive. And Lord, please bless this food and all the people who prepared it.”  Rock on, sistah friends. I think I underestimated these broads. I’m going to guess that until I showed up with that tray of goodies, a majority of these women had never even uttered the word “vulva” before. In fact two of them confessed that they call their nether regions their “girl parts”… and these are mothers of girls. I do believe I performed a valuable service to my community by bringing those edible vulvas to the Christmas Party. 

So there we were, some of us in our Mom Jeans and holiday themed L.L. Bean turtlenecks, and some of us in our True Religion jeans and heels, but all of us sharing a lovingly created meal of condensed-soup-based-carb-casseroles, venison meatballs (surprisingly good!), and vulva candies.  We drank way too much wine and talked about things like plastic surgery and our kids’ school challenges and weight loss secrets. But for me, the best part was learning that even though most of these other moms seem so together and organized, that they too are really struggling with the insane amount of extra work that goes along with being a Mom in the month of December.

This is a pretty special group of women. I have never heard any of them gossip about another member of the group. Ever. They are smart, talented, and compassionate. Some work at full time jobs ranging from teaching to physical therapy to human resources. Several are stay-at-home moms. One of us is divorced. Several of us would like to be divorced. Many are on some kind of pharmacological support. Some of us are transplanted Yankees… and I just learned that TWO of us are Yinzers (a.k.a. from Pittsburgh…how did I miss that accent on Nina before?) But all of us are loving mothers, struggling to manage all the day-to-day drudgery and still get out of bed every day. We each have different hobbies and passions and it is wonderful to have a built in resource pool to go to for questions about anything from Autism to Zoo trips. And you know what, I think many of them actually enjoy my company as well… apparently I fill the role of comic relief. Of course, none of them take me very seriously, so I never have to worry about being recruited for the role of Co-Op President, thank you Jeeeeezus, but it is nice to feel appreciated for my own unique skill set. And apparently they respect my parenting (or just geographic proximity) as well because several of them use me regularly for babysitting. 

And now that I know they can handle the vulva candies, I’ll feel a little more comfortable just being myself. And that’s a good thing. 

Of course, the bar has been raised for the next Babysitting Co-Op event! Now I’m going to have to whip my pastry bag into submission and figure out how to make these.  Definitely not as easy to make as the pretzel/Rolo/pecan vulvas, but aren’t they pretty?! Or these. Everyone LOVES cupcakes! Or this. Although, on second thought… I don’t like the idea of a vagina cheese cake… reminds me of my last yeast infection. Oh well, I have a whole year to decide. And my next mission will be to teach them the difference between the labia majora and labia minora! Oh what fun!!! I just love a project, don’t you? 

So I guess the moral of the story is this… be yourself. If the people around you can’t handle it, then find new people. But always be yourself. And also, nothing loosens up a party like a tray of delicious vulva candies.

The Accidental Tomato

There is a rogue tomato in my garden this year.  I did not purposefully plant this tomato; it just showed up one day.  This does not really surprise me….I am learning to expect the unexpected when it comes to gardening, children, and hair color from a box.  

What does surprise me is that this lucky tomato has not been trampled by dogs, plucked by kids, or mistaken for a weed by my husband.  The fact that it is surviving and even thriving in my clay-packed Southern soil is the true miracle here.  

I am so grateful though that this tomato showed up when it did.  It has been a very long summer at home with my beautiful brood of human and non-human dependents.  So discovering this gift one day and realizing its source provided me with hope. Hope for getting through the summer and beyond.  You see, this unlikely gift, as small as it may be, sprouted from a steaming pile of shit. Literally. Worm shit to be exact.  

Long story short: I have worms. They’ve been living in a box under my deck for almost ten years, through good times and bad. They are the easiest, least demanding pets I’ve ever known. I toss them some kitchen scraps once in a while and in return they poop out a glorious cornucopia of organic goodness. Affectionately known in the trade as “Black Gold,” it is THE mack daddy of natural fertilizers. It is cheap and green, and you know it must be easy if I’ve been able to sustain it for nearly a decade.   

So back to the tomato.  Sometimes, you get a few undigested seeds in the vermicompost (a.k.a The Shit). And sometimes, if the conditions are just right, and you’re lucky, one of those seeds might actually grow into a pleasant little surprise such as my accidental tomato.  Of course, it helps if you are paying attention and actually notice the surprise gift when it arrives, but that is true of anything.  Like the phoenix rises from the ashes, in my yard, a beautiful tomato has arisen from The Shit.  

And speaking of The Shit, I have a fabulous new friend, Lindsay.  She is another accidental tomato in my life. A few weeks ago she was little more than an acquaintance.  But then one day, she sent out an email to a group of people about her new blog (huh? what’s a blog?).  And by some lucky happenstance, I was one of those people, AND I didn’t delete the email or lose it to my spam filter.  But luckier yet, I actually read this email, went to the aforementioned blog, and discovered that we were probably cut from the same cloth. If you knew me, you’d know that this alone is a lot of steps for me.  But wait, there’s more. I then reached out of my too-much-summer-with-the-kids-stupor, and actually replied to her email about how much I enjoyed her blog (unbelievably without frightening her), and an Internet-based friendship was born. Three weeks, hundreds of emails and Facebook exchanges, four margaritas (on the rocks, with salt please), and one life-changing book exchange later, I have me a new BFF.  And so today, life is pretty good.  Three weeks ago, not so much. But sometimes when you least expect it, even when it feels like you are surrounded by nothing but shit, a random seed can sprout and turn into a wondrous gift.  You just have to be paying attention.