This year has changed my perspective, my approach to life transformed.

Motherhood brought me here.

I dance weirdly and sing in silly voices. I play peek-a-boo with scarves, walls, refrigerator doors, books, cups, my hands, and whatever else I can find to hide behind. I still have a lot to learn and a long way to go. I’m still in the honeymoon of motherhood – I’m still in love with my daughter, even when she’s wild and grouchy. I find tenderness in details. I’ve found the importance of empathy, of community, of connection.

Me and Loki

I’ve learned so many things: that being a mom is both more lonely and more enriching than I could’ve imagined, that mothering is equally about nurturing myself and nurturing my kid.

And, surprisingly, I’ve learned that parenthood is about community as much as it is about family.

Our households, our families are micro-communities, and the way that we build our family – whether it is a family of roommates, friends, or generations – is part of the way that we build our community. Being a homemaker and a parent is really about drawing a community closer, supporting and knowing each other, and being healthy and strong and happy. Together. Our strength as a community starts at home.

There seems to be a powerful emphasis in our society on the family as an independent organism. There are parenting “styles” through which our choices stratify us. It’s easy for parents to get cliquey, to feel superior (or inferior) based on our choices, but the truth is, there are a variety of nourishing, supportive, and “right” ways to raise kids. Despite our differences, I believe that we want to raise children together.

Complete strangers give me parenting advice and touch and kiss my baby. Loki draws people to me, and other people’s kids draw me to them. I’ve connected and shared resources with people in the line at the grocery store, in parking lots, walking downtown and in my own neighborhood. The information and advice I’ve learned from other mothers at meet-up groups is pure gold. We have potlucks, help each other out during crises, bring each other food, swap baby clothes and gear in addition to learning about parenting from each other.

We are a collection of villages based on common causes and social networks. We’re already in this thing together, without admitting it.

In so many ways, parenting Loki has reformed definitions in my life. What it means for me to be a friend, a family member, and a part of a community has evolved, renewing  truths about food, bodies, and time.

Food

Gardening and parenthood are kindred concepts. Both require tenderness and mindfulness and patience. For both, there is a balance of attachment and independence. The relationship between growing food and nurturing a child has brought me, over the course of the year, to reevaluate nutrition and the sources of my food.

An obvious requirement of parenting is nutrition: every day, I have to plan several meals for myself and my kid. I am in charge of building my new little human. Suddenly, how we eat is a collection of rather serious choices. Spending my days and nights with Loki has convinced me that what we eat really does affect how we feel. A diet based on whole foods that are close to their natural state as possible eases digestion, keeps us full and energized, keeps us happy, and tastes amazing.

And, buying food, when it is seasonally available from local growers and producers, can change the structure of our community.

There is wholesomeness in knowing the people who harvest produce and raise animals for eggs, dairy, and meat. The farmers are members of our community – buying from them and volunteering at their farms strengthens the communal bond, builds relationships, and gives me a sense of place within the environmental network of my surroundings. I am really a part of my community – giving while I’m taking, and encouraging the growth of local food sources so that more families can enjoy them.

When Loki is older, I’ll be able to show her the source of her food and teach her to prepare it in nutritious and tasty ways. For now, I’m satisfied with hitching her to my back while I pick berries in the spring, okra in the summer, and squash in the fall.

Because of her, my heart is on the outside.

Bodies

No experience brings forth the virtue of nakedness like parenting – that we are all flawed but also perfect, that we all start and end our lives naked.

Middle school health class and some parenting magazines would have us believe that our bodies are in a constant battle with the environment. Viruses are everywhere. Everywhere! Sanitize! Now! Again!

Many people believe in the body vs. world mentality. It’s something I never really considered until Loki was born. After a year of watching my kid lick the floor, eat beach sand and urban dirt, and receive dozens of kisses from strangers without ever once getting sick, I’m content with our sanitizer-free home.

The New York Times recently published an article that said, “Accumulating evidence strongly suggests that eating dirt is good for you. In studies of what is called the hygiene hypothesis, researchers are concluding that organisms like the millions of bacteria, viruses and especially worms that enter the body along with ‘dirt’ spur the development of a healthy immune system.”

So dirt is good for us. Our bodies are safe and lovely.

Time

Everyone says it – time moves faster after a baby arrives. For me, it has been a slow year. Life has hiccupped dramatic a few times, but we’ve gotten through it. Our family is happy and at peace. But, being a mom has emphasized the preciousness of the present. Never have I been more alert to what is happening right now. Never have I cared less about what has happened or what will happen later.

Never have I felt less that time is slipping away. How could it? We are in it – a living hive of minutes.