How many children do you have, what are their ages?
I have two children. Eliza was born at home with two midwives shouting a chorus of "Push, Push." I push-pushed and shot her past the first midwife into the hands of the second. Other than the pushing, shouting, and tearing, it was a nice setting. It was Sunday afternoon in mid-summer. Our neighbors were grilling dinner for us just outside the window. That was 4.5 years ago. Jack was born without hindering hands, shouts, or the presence of anyone but his loving family members. If you were here, Eliza would take you on a tour to the bedroom: "I was born here." Then you could go to the bathroom: "And Jack was born here while Mama was standing there." She helped catch him. That was 1.5 years ago. They are a loving pair--except when they aren't!

What is a funny or rewarding experience you've had as a mama?
Most days I think my kids are very wild and active--until I'm around other 4 and 1 year olds. But they do wear me out. When I find myself most happy as a mama is with them piled on my lap, or just before I fall asleep with a sleeping child pressed up against me on either side. Lying there in bed I get a chance to think about it without distraction. They are great kids--the most kissable kids I have ever met.

How did you meet your husband?
We call this "The Crater Lake Story." Marc & I were each on vacation, alone, driving around Crater Lake in southern Oregon. There are only two ways to go. We were both going clockwise. I registered that there was a cute guy. We chatted at each stop around the lake. We took a couple of walks together. How could one man have so much in common with me? watch Bill Forsyth films (Scottish director), listen to Fugazi and Minor Threat (harDCore punk), not only knit but know the best Fair Isle wool but its color number (Jamieson & Smith), play the oboe, work at the same company in Scotland separated by only a couple of months, and so on. The accent didn't hurt, either (he's English). I didn't embrace it as fate, but when I drove away I thought it would be nice to marry someone like that. I was over 30 and definitely no longer looking. I went home to Washington, D.C.; he went on his way to 6 months in New Zealand. We wrote letters. He came to Washington on his way home to England. On the fifth day of his visit, we decided we would get married. We were married about a year after we met. It was NOT carefully considered, and I wouldn't recommend the method, but, as I write, it is our seventh anniversary. It seems to have worked.

What did you think you'd be when you grew up?
Before she retired, my mother was a career counselor. I used to flip through her books and guides. I wanted to be everything. I had it narrowed down to artist and mathematician for a while, but it was back up to a serious list of 26 careers when I was in my mid 20s. Most consistent contender: writer.

Who did your classmates think you were in high school? Would they be surprised by who you are now?
Well, my friends the smart geeks thought I was too smart to be into social activities like yearbook and drill team. My friends in drill team thought I hung out too much with math and band geeks. The stoners and various other hermits I befriended didn't much care who I was as long as I was a friend. Would they be surprised by who I am now? I don't think so, nor do I think they would care. I'm probably not so much on track for the awards I received there: "Puppy Eyes" and "Most Likely to Be the First Woman President." I had a graduating class of more than 600. I'm sure not more than a dozen have given me more than a passing thought in 20 years.

Who were you before fuzbaby... any interesting jobs or schooling?
You could interpret my college years by my string of majors: illustration, fine arts, art history, romance languages, anthropology, American studies; in graduate school I moved on to popular culture, vernacular culture, labor, and music communities; finally, I ended up in the midst of religion, racism, and the foundations of the West. Or you could draw conclusions from my various theses: as an undergraduate I wrote about teenage violence films of the 1950s; my Master's thesis was "The Politicized American Legend of the Singing Hero"; my Ph.D. dissertation was "Telling Stories about Mormons and Indians." I spent a short time at the University of Puerto Rico, where I wrote about an artist called Lorenzo Homar. In addition to college, I've trained in editing and bootmaking. Along the way I learned bits and pieces of various languages: a lot of Spanish, written Italian, baby Navajo, beginning Russian, written Chinese, American Sign Language, and a little bit of Elvish in college. Straight out of college, I worked for my state history museum doing everything: data entry, photography, preservation of artifacts, illustration of exhibits, research, travel to small museums around the state for collection evaluation. I ran away to graduate school from there. I was 21. In the midst of graduate school I went to work in Scotland, where I was an underpaid temp, and England, where I was a copyeditor for a large independent publisher. It was back to graduate school, briefly, then on to work at the Smithsonian Institution. There I was an archivist. I worked with photos, original papers, sound recordings of all sorts. I even produced a recording of songs of Joe Hill, a Wobbly (member of the Industrial Workers of the World) executed on flimsy evidence 85 years ago. One of the best parts of that job was helping with the American Folklife Festival for two weeks every summer on the National Mall. On the side I gave papers at conferences, did fieldwork among union members and punk rockers, wrote and edited a newsletter/'zine called Ethnopop, and convened the Popular Music Section of the American Folklore Society. Recently, I have not done as much professional work. I taught American Indian history as a graduate assistant for several years until my daughter was born. I was involved in creating a multimedia tool to teach about the conquests of the Americas. Right now--in addition to raising my children, homeschooling, and the diaper business--I am teaching at the University. Last semester I helped my students gather tools to be critical media watchers. This coming semester I am helping them explore American utopian ideas. I still call myself a Folklorist, because that's where most of my training and experience is.

What did your family say when you told them you were going to be an entrepreneur?
They may have raised eyebrows at yet another career, but why bother saying anything when I'm going to do what I'm going to do. No one in my family has been anything but fully supportive. My husband is my partner in the business. We are the diaper artist and the diaper scientist.

If you could do any kind of work you wanted, other than the business you now have, what would you be doing?
Are we still in fantasyland? I would probably be very happy as a monk who spent my whole life illuminating one page. In this world, I'd really rather be on no path more than the one I am on. It's not an arrival, after all. It's a journey.

If you have time for hobbies, or outside interests, what are they?
I admit, I don't get time to read novels anymore, but I do take some time for myself. I've been going through the books The Artist Within and Vein of Gold by Julia Cameron with a group of women in my town. I am occasionally a vocal birth activist. I fancy myself a wild wise woman herbalist. I don't live very far from Niagara Falls, so I like to visit the Falls as often as possible. There is awesome power there. I haven't been knitting as much as I used to, but I will again, when there is less chance of my wool being dragged around the house. When my children are older, I will make boots again with all of the beautiful tools and machines I have all over my basement. I need to edit and publish my dissertation--another time-consuming task I haven't pushed forward. This wasn't meant to be about intentions, though, was it? At this point, my businesses are good, well-rounded fun for me. I get to use skills I already have (design, writing, color, organization) as well as developing new ones (marketing, logistics, finance).

Who, living or dead, would you most like to do lunch with?
I'd have a party, because I find the best ideas come from a really rolling conversation. I would invite Noam Chomsky, Elizabeth Gurley Flynn, Saint Clare of Assisi, Ned Ludd, John Mohawk, Hakim Bey, Billy Bragg, Ghandi, the whole of Chumbawamba, my husband Marc, and myself. The topic of the day would be communalism. All big personalities--none too big. (I'd leave John Lennon and Michael Moore's invitations home, for fear that they would dominate the conversation.) I'd ask John Mohawk to cook Iroquois corn soup. We could all help prepare the food as we talked. If I could only invite one person, it would be Yusuf Islam (Cat Stevens). I'd go out to an Afghani restaurant with him and talk about the huge changes he made in his life and what he found.
I like this game. I'm already planning my next one: a 19th-century prophet lunch with Tenskwatawa, Neolin, Joseph Smith, Ann Lee, Handsome Lake, Wovoka . .

Where would you most like to travel to?
If I don't spend a great deal of time on the beach in Tanzania before I die, I will have a big aching spot where that beach ought to go.

What's your favorite product from another WAHM?
Well, there was Firefly Diapers. I loved them so much that I bought the company.

What are your dreams for the future?
I dream big, and I keep my dreams fluid. More critical thinking toward sustainable living. More abundance in balance. More environmentally-friendly fibers. More color, more color, more color. More writing. More experimenting. A black Puli (beautiful herding dog with dreadlocks). A hypertext novel. A gallery exhibit of needlepoint hiking boots.

What's something that no one would ever guess about you?
If I told you, how would I keep anyone guessing? Just kidding. Let's round me out. All of my shoes are black. My perfume is Prescriptives Calyx. My favorite music and dance is Flamenco. I have 55 first cousins. I dyed my hair stoplight red after September 11th, then I cut off a foot and a half of hair yesterday. I get most of my news from The Daily Show. Nothing makes me laugh more than David Sedaris reading his own stories. My favorite novel is The River Why by David James Duncan. I like to play Skee Ball. My favorite musical is How to Succeed in Business without Really Trying ("A secretary is not a toy. No, my boy, not a toy. . . ."). Robbie Robertson and Roland Gift make me swoon. My favorite song is "Solsbury Hill" by Peter Gabriel, or "Chi Mi Na Morbheanna" by Mouth Music, or "God Shiva" by Me'Shell Ndegéocello, or "Beauty in a Fade" by John Trudell, or "Helplessly Hoping" by Crosby Stills & Nash, or "Give a Man a Fish" by Arrested Development, or "Mahk Jchi" by Ulali, or "Wicked Game" by Chris Isaak, or "Girl from Ipanema" by Brazil 66, or "Constant Craving" by k.d. lang, or or "The Red Flag" by Dick Gaughan and Billy Bragg--I could go on and on because music is my drug. My favorite film is anything made by Sidney Poitier before the unfortunate (but funny) Uptown Saturday Night. I once received an award for "Outstanding Contribution to Utah History." I'm a 13th Generation American. I sing the blues. I like curry. I have a Ph.D. cum laude. I am an only child of a single parent, so this family stuff does not come easy for me.

Anything else you think would be fun for others to know about you?
I have been married three times--to the same man. Once for his family in an old, old village church in England--a perfect country wedding for four generations of family. Once by a Justice of the Peace, in our living room, during a huge snow storm--this time for the government. And finally for my family and friends, outside overlooking a little mountain valley in Utah, a formal wedding with attendants and all, Marc in a kilt with his other family members in tartan, with the ceremony performed by an Ojibway pipe carrier. I don't think some members of my family will ever quite forgive me ending the ceremony with a circle dance. We had a huge dinner, then a dance with music by The Bunkhouse Orchestra.
Oh! And the first record I ever bought was Tiny Tim's "Bring Back Those Rockabye Baby Days" (1968).