Well, I have a kitchenette now, albeit one with no floor. It was amazing to see this small bare space with a pipe sticking out of the wall turn into a little white & blue dream. My dad's love affair with white malomite may very well outlast his love affair with my mom - as my first decorating instinct is to open the Ikea catalogue, his is to find a suitable structure out of malomite.

The only drag was that they wouldn't let me help. I realize that I can't paint in my delicate condition, but I can still work a drill without hurting the baby. I'd really like to nest, but everybody's hogging the fun. Pout.

Despite my forced lassitude, yesterday was a good time except for the end: three slices of pizza made me absolutely ill, and I had to be taken home weeping. I can't wait until my hormones settle down and I can live a life mostly heartburn-free.

In the course of cleaning out the basement, my mother discovered a book called Of Woman Born by Adrienne Rich that she may or may not have read at some point in the 70's or 80's. It's an anthropological-feminist analysis-memoir of the institution of motherhood, and as I was not allowed to build cabinets, I spent most of yesterday reading through it. The research & historical analysis are the best parts of the book, as they highlight the effect patriarchy has had on the so-called average Western woman. The memoirs I find less useful (except as a kind of freakshow), as they deal with her intense depression & isolation as a young mother in the 60's. The problem is that middle & upper-class marriage in that time was an isolating experience, locking young girls into separate houses and expecting them to be satisfied as satellites of their husband's working day. I mean, that's why Valium was so popular. (I think the film The Hours makes this point masterfully, highlighting the absolute depression & loneliness of both a woman who rejects domesticity and a woman who embraces it). Of course motherhood was hard in those smug, self-satisfied times. It was almost like a cult for both men and women: who could do the most alone before they had a nervous breakdown?

But although motherhood can be tremendously isolating today, it doesn't have to be. Dirk got me The Hip Mama Survival Guide by Ariel Gore a few weeks ago, and it represents third wave feminism's response to the isolating culture of motherhood. And although Rich would probably have quarrelled with the occasionally child-centric focus of the book, I think she would've been surprised by the strength and humour Gore uses to deal with the same problems. There is, in fact, a whole chapter called "Finding Your Village," which focuses on ways that you can be a mama and be a person at the same time by using your interests to guide you into meaningful social groups that will help you raise your baby. Gore creates the hippie antidote to the cold academic constructions of Rich. And it makes me feel that I'm living in a much safer world.

Still, I'm compelled to finish the book. Not only am I interested in the whole idea of motherhood, but I also know that my surety may be hubris and I may need to know about extreme depression and isolation, especially since I'm moving back to my home town where I know so few people my own age.

Booty Call: Day 226 - Baby's skin is pink and smooth. Baby begins to develop sleeping patterns. Fingernails reach the tips of the fingernails.

6 years ago today: sex is violence!