The New Girl

So, It Turns Out That, YES, There IS Something More Mundane Than Complaining About The Weather.

And that would be Complaining About [My] Your Pregnancy.  I have been living in the land of [feeling like a hot, angry, rhino] Uncomfortably Pregnant and all I have is a LITANY of complaints/gripes about it.  And who really wants to read all that shit from me?  Anyone?

Anyone want to hear about the trying to roll over in bed (HA. HA. HAAA.)? Or the Posterior Pelvic Pain that feels like my legs are going CRUMPLE beneath me as I stand up? Or the HEAT WAVE that is threatening my sanity? Or the slowness? Shortness of breath-slash-energy-slash-motivation-slash-uh-HAPPINESS that's settled over me? Or about the [complete denial that an effing BABY is coming to live here SOON] lack of overall readiness? Or about parenting a soon-to-be big sister who has taken to crying at the gym kid's club (again) and who wants only me (again) and who is fighting sleep and not napping well, (again threatening my sanity)?

Trust me that I know if you WANT to be pregnant or you WISH you were pregnant or you're TRYING to be pregnant or you LOVE TO REMEMBER being pregnant that this could, and probably does, sound like ten kinds of awful. I KNOW that. I EMPATHIZE and I'm sorry.  But the way I feel now, it's like how 'eating everything on your plate' won't take care of the kid's starving in China. Or Africa. Or whatever the fuck that saying is.  I mean, I want for you to be pregnant, too.  But that doesn't make it any less of a subjective/relative pain in my ass, if you know what I'm saying.

The first time around, I lamented and grieved the difficult pregnancy.  I felt like it was a loss, in a way and I felt envious of those who had wonderful, awesome pregnancies.  At the same time, I had some guilt(ish) feelings about hating mine so bad.  This time around, I feel no guilt or shame declaring what is my basic loathing of this state.  I know, now, how very little pregnancy has to do with mothering the being that you convey into the world. 

There are some consolations, though.  It was a little cooler today.  I like to feel the baby move in there.  And I finally figured out a posture (a description of which I will kindly spare you) in which I can pee fully enough, so as not to feel done, only to continue (without my knowledge or consent) upon standing.

We also went and bought two gallons of blue paint for the [office] baby's room.

She's going to have a baby brother, yo.

Fun Fact Friday: 'A Not-Perfect-But-Still-Pretty-Solid-Ten' Edition.

* Ten years ago today, I walked down the aisle (of an honest-to-goodness church) to meet The Man who was standing up front, waiting for me.  We had been dating for about 4 years before we got married, so I wasn't really nervous the day of the wedding.  The night before, though, we got into the back of my parents' car to go to the rehearsal and we looked at each other with matching EXPRESSIONS OF TERROR. For some reason, it was SO much more anxiety provoking than the actual WEDDING.

* It was raining in the morning but the weather cleared while we were saying our vows.  I swear.  A ray of light came through the stained glass windows and I LAUGHED.  I also slipped while I was on the altar, walking back to my seat.  I heard some gasps from the guests so it must have looked scary.  The videographer edited that out of the tape, though, which--of COURSE he would but I ALWAYS think about that now.

* When we were exchanging rings, I made the sound of a jail-cell door closing when I pushed the ring all the way down on his finger.  Caaa-CHINK.

* I haven't seen my wedding video in years.  As in, [I lost it in one of the moves] I can't FIND it.  On that wedding video, I [procrastinated, as usual] didn't get the songs to the guy in time and so they put their own in.  I am NOT KIDDING when I tell you that the montage of the wedding at the end of the video is set to THIS TUNE.

* I had SEVEN girls in the bridal party and I heartily regret one of them.  It was someone I asked out of a sense of obligation and it SHOULD have been my BFF in her spot.  I even felt that at the time of the wedding (especially when the bridesmaid came to the rehearsal dinner in a black-and-red-lace-up bustier) and so now when I look at pictures of the line up, I just want to photo-shop Kristen's face over [the guilt-inducing-unfriender] that one girl's.

* Although we disagree on lots (and lots and lots) of things, The Man and I both tend to rank LOW on sentimentality and/or need for ROMANCE, which makes days like Valentine's Day and anniversaries much, much easier. Tonight, we'll go out to eat and call it a celebration.

* The worst thing about The Man is his tendency toward [leaving little fucking scraps of paper containing VITAL INFORMATION all over hell] clutter and his general disorganization.

* The best thing about The Man is that he is a TOTAL come-through guy.  At/On/During any critical/important occasion where you would imagine needing or wanting a supportive spouse or friend,The Man is that guy.  For big things like the wedding or the death of my mom, down to not-so-big but still important things like, moving into my own office or detailing my recently separated friend's car for her--he is one dependable, supportive em-effer.

* Even during the hardest times of our relationship (many of them have been over the last two years, heh, go figure,) I have never, not even once, not even for a second, thought that perhaps I made a mistake all those years ago. The Man is the only man for me, of that I am completely sure.

Go ahead, you can say it.

I found The Love of a Lifetime. 

Is There ANYTHING More Mundane Than Complaining About The Weather?

Because, oh my BOILING HELL, that is all I want to do.  It is hot, hot, hot and I am feeling like a hippo (and not all sexy like the one in Madagascar 2.) (And by the way, could YOU follow what the fuck was going on in that movie? Because I COULDN'T. Was it the same bunch of characters?  Their kids?  I was less confused trying to figure out 12 Monkeys.  And Memento.  For crizzakes. )

Anyway.

The trip I took to the shore was short but WAY MORE successful than I'd hoped/dreamed/anticipated.  Turns out that a few months can make a HUGE difference in a kid's ability to listen to [what the fuck I'm saying] reason.  A little preparation and [bribery] incentive setting and she got into the pack 'n' play without ANY SCREAMING.  *Ahhh.*

She also has so much language to describe her experiences that it was a trip listening to her talk about going to the Beeeeeeach! and the Ooooocean! and narrating what was happening around her.  This time, like last time, she initially avoided the sand [due to some almost-certain sensory issues], having a mild freak-out that it was 'stuck on' her.  But after a bit, she got into a Sand-Playing ZONE, yo, and wouldn't even look up to smile at the camera.  Which, btw, is her newest favorite activity. Besides singing.  She's SINGING, you guys.  I could DIE.

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#1:

Note The Brushing Off. 

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#2:

And the hover-squat.

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#3:

Srsly.  LOOK at that little heiney, INCHES off the ground.

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#4:

Burying her own feetseses.

And also, P.S. When the hell did she get so big?  She's almost like a Big Kid now.

 

Man.

You Know What They Say About Birds Of A Feather.

TLNG: 'Mommy, I want to wear the seagulls pajamas.'

Me: 'What?'

TLNG: 'I want to wear the seagulls pajamas!'

Me: 'You don't have any pajamas with seagulls on them.'

TLNG: 'The seeeegulllls pajamas.'

Me: '-----??'

TLNG: 'The seeeegulllls pj's, please.'

Me: 'Can you show me where they are?'

TLNG: 'Right DERE, Mommy.  Right DERE.'

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Oh, and PS. We're doing it again.  I am hoping that the wake-up call is at LEAST 4AM this time.  That way, there will be a good chance that I'll already be awake.  Thanks Pregnancy Insomnia!!

Have a great weekend!

It's A Beautiful Day

The day started out as whiny and nerve-wracking as any other over the last few weeks.  I hurried us out to the car for a last-minute trip to the grocery store to get some fresh basil for the MIL dinner.  When we pulled in, I promised TLNG that we'd go to the PetStore to look at the animals and to get The Dog some 'Special Cookies' (The little ones in the bulk aisle that look like people-cookies. He loves them, she loves to pick them out and four little cookies costs me like, .59. A win! win! win!)

At the grocery store, TLNG was charming in the extreme, smiling, talking and waving 'HIIIIII!' to strangers everywhere.  After that, as promised, we looked at the 'feesh,' the 'birrrdies,' the 'turrels' and we got some 'tookies' for the dog.  During that trip, she was pleasant as punch (besides her strange objection to paying anywhere we go 'NO paaaay!' WTF?) and when we were done, she was excited to give the dog his treats.

When we left the store, it was so beautiful out, it was sunny and warm.  I didn't want to go home to have lunch and nap.  I wanted to stay out and so did my girl.

'Nother tore, Mommy.'
'You want to go to another store?'
'Yeah.'

So we went to return some items at TJ Maxx.  Rainbows and Unicorns the whole way, friends.  She was charming the pants off everyone by making running commentary about 'The men fixin' things and the 'ladies' that were everywhere. 'Hiiiiii!!'

When we left, I asked her if she wanted to go home for lunch or go to a restaurant.  She chose a restaurant.  We went in and although she was tired and clearly in need of her nap, she was pleasant and lovely.

I think about the snap-shots people get of our kids, you know?  Today, the grocery store clerk saw a tiny kid, with great articulation, who gave her an unprompted 'Thank you,' in exchange for a sticker.  The old guy behind us saw a well-behaved 'beauty,' who charmed him by showing off her baby doll and her 'big-smile' (indistinguishable from a grimace, really, except for the context.)  The people lunching next to us, beamed at her as she repeatedly said, 'Hi Mommy! Hi Mommy!'

Last week? I don't even want to THINK about what people saw.  I'm sure that you can guess.  To the people who saw her today, she IS that cute, charming, loving, well-mannered beauty.  And they are right.  To the people last week, she probably IS that red-faced, yelling, [bratty] willful, crazy-kid.  And, uh, they are right, too.

We see our children in the continuous, unending cycling of their moods and stages.  Their progress and their regressions.  Their ups and their downs.

Which is why a beautiful day, where everything goes well, is just, you know. 

So very beautiful.

Because I Am Sometimes A Font Of Practically Useless Knowledge.

* The best way to ripen fruit is to put it into a closed paper bag on your counter.  You can also put in an overripe banana and that will speed the process.  It has something to do with acetone and blahblahblah, whatever.  I never use the banana.

* If you shake a container of particulate matter, like say, nearly-the-end-of-a-bag of tortilla chips or a bowl of blueberries, the biggest particles come to the top.  Which is good to know if you want to be the one to get those last few whole chips..

* The best way to get a pit out of an avocado is to whack into it with your knife and then twist.  It will pop right out, stuck to the edge of your knife.

Feel free to add.  I'm always up for more P.U.K.

Randomly Random Fact Friday!!

Proud Parenting Moment:
I was in the kitchen with The Little Sister and our kids were around the corner, in the living room, *playing.* (Which is usually a duration of 4.3 seconds during which The Nephew gets THISCLOSE to TLNG's face and lets rip a jungle-dweller-type scream, after which she yells, 'NOOOOO!' and BAAAAAAHPs him, kicking off a screaming-slash-wailing episode that measures something on a Richter Scale.)

But today they were talking to each other.  Asking and giving and 'pleasing' and 'thanking' and 'you're welcoming' each other.  The Little Sister and I were impressed [from our food-filled hiding spot.]  And then I heard my kid yell out:

'GREAT SHARING, GUYS! GREAT SHARING, GUYS!'

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The Little Sister called as I was making dinner to see if TLNG was 'okay.'  Then she told me that The Nephew had a temperature of 103 degrees.  So now, I'm WAITING, with DREAD for the middle-of-the-night-fever-spike-puke-fest that kicks off virtually any illness that TLNG gets.

Does this happen to anyone else's kids?  I mean, it's not even usually a puking virus.  It usually turns out to be a cold-like thing but the puking always comes first (and in the middle of the effing NIGHT.)

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I wrote it on Twitter and on Facebook but in case you don't follow and/or don't think of me as a friend, I'll tell you that some douchebag double-asshole motherfucker broke into our cars the other night.  They took my GPS and my sunglasses and he took The Man's work bag (which contained nothing but ALL HIS WORK.)  They even left the change (dollars worth!) and a couple gift cards.  The cop said that they are only after electronics and that they pawn them right away. Awesome.

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Speaking of Twitter, it's been fucking with me ALL DAY.  I know it got hacked and I can see your updates but I can't publish any of my own and I never realized how much I want to REACH OUT and bitch into the Universe.  The article about the hacking of Twitter ended with this quote:

"The lesson, he says, is 'not to limit yourself to Twitter and live or die by Twitter.'"

Baaaa ha ha haaaaaa!

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My kid, the comedian, has started to 'make faces.'  I have some photographic depictions for you:

Here is a neutral, 'What the fuck do you want me to-do-now?' face.

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This is the first attempt at a 'Mad Face.'  Also, she says, 'Grrrrrr,' while making this face.

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Second attempt at 'The Mad Face.'  Clearly, it needs work but the 'Grrrr' is pretty impressive.

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'The Scared Face.'

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This one she calls, inexplicably, 'The Bunny Face.'  I have no idea why but she says, 'Dis is deh Bunneh Fache,' through those comically stretched lips.  I've never seen a bunny make this face, though, so wth, kid?

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This is her 'Happy Face.'  It's the second attempt but how many pictures of my nasty grout do you need to see, really?

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And here, folks, is her NATURAL EXPRESSION, after she asked me to see the pictures that I just took and I told her to 'Wait one second.'  I call this one 'The My Mom Is An Effing A-hole Face.'

Have a great weekend!

Awkward Introductions.

She watched me from the doorway as I unpacked and put away my jewelry.  She walked into the room, and as per her current usual, was narrating my activities in question form.

'You're putting away your neck-a-less, Mommy?'

And for some reason, I told her.  That, yes, I was putting away the necklace.  The necklace that had once been my mother's.

'This necklace was my Mommy's,' I said.

I don't ever really discuss my mother with my daughter.  I don't have a good explanation for that, in truth.  Other than it has seemed too early.  Like she wouldn't understand.  For the first year and change, I was just trying to make it through with this crazy kid that I have and although she has been naming those in her immediate circle for a long time now, it just didn't seem pressing or natural to insert my mother into the rotation.  And although she would occasionally ask me where my sister's Mommy was (she's met my BIL's mother,) she's never, ever asked me about mine.

But a few months ago, things began to change. She started to become more attuned, she's started to ask more questions, more persistently.  We watched enough of the opening scene of Finding Nemo for me to recall why the movie centers around Nemo and his Dad.  When I saw the Fish With Teeth, I fast forwarded to the next scene, hoping to avoid the obvious and for the Rest Of The Movie, my daughter asked this:

'But where's the Mommy? Where's Nemo's Mommy?'

I dodged the question.  I made up whereabouts.  I didn't want to say the word dead to my two year old. 

After I told her about the necklace belonging to my mother, she asked me this:

'Who is your Mommy?  What's her name?'

'Her name is Grandma Karen.  You've never seen her.  Do you want to see a picture of Grandma Karen?  I have one.'

She said yes and I took the funeral card out of my sock drawer for her to see.  I held it up and she approached it.

'That's your Mommy?'

'Yes.'

'Where is she?'

'She's not here.  But that's her.'

My girl looked at the picture as I studied her expression.  Reflected there was a mixture of wonder and amusement.  An initial glimmer of awareness, perhaps, that I am a seperate entity.  I fell down deep into that moment and for a second I experienced the most surreal juxtaposition.  There, in front of me was my daugther, my darling, whose face I know so well, who is such a huge part of my life as to make up the lion's share of it.  And in my hand, an image of my Mother, my memory, my attachment, my loss, my grief.

Looking at my daughter regarding the grandmother she will never meet, one who would have loved her beyond measure, made my throat close, my eyes sting.  I struggled to keep composure, to arrange my features to reflect only the wistfulness.

But my girl's got a finely tuned meter. 

She sensed the shift in the wind of my mood.  She became unsure, hesitant. She took a step back from the picture and looked at me with a question.  And then she asked it:

'She's not here?'

'No, baby, she's not here.'

And that's when I realized that the reason I avoid talking to my child about my mom isn't because I don't want to explain death, per se.  It's that I don't want to convey the idea, the knowledge, the awareness that Mommies can disappear into the ether.  That they can vanish and be lost and that can leave you feeling set adrift, floating aimlessly.  That sometimes Mommies don't come home ever again.  I know that it's the truth and it's part of life.  I just think she's too young for a bite of that apple right now.

Then I tacked the card up onto my mirror and went to find our wedding pictures.  Because I think the days of her asking questions are here to stay. 

And so, it's time to put Grandma Karen into the rotation.

Relapse.

I've been clean a little over two years.

And now?

I'm not.

Geezuz, pregnancy is WEIRD.

Grad School Vandal, Literary Genius Or Graffiti For Nerds?

Yesterday I went to my grad school to meet a friend for lunch and while on the elevator, I saw a sign that read:

Please wait until the
car has come to a complete stop
before exiting
the elevator

Only, it was 'altered' by [a grad school vandal slash literary genius] to read:

"Please wait until the
car has come to a complete stop
before exiting"
--the elevator

HA HA HAAAAA!