The fact I had to go back through the blog and review should tell you about the haze in which i walk 2010. Part of me can't comprehend that NewYork and Seattle happened within the same culturally defined 365 days. But onward to the critique. I don't know what to say about you 2010. Certainly my friends are done with you and on their behalf you lose marks- and currently I am in the grief of being in the world and all the tragedy and grizzlyness of it all. I did remind myself that biblically speaking we are somewhere warned to look toward the light and not the dark. So there's that. But i have to say, what a strange year.
First off the shadow cast over all of you is my relationship with the EDD. It hasn't been the most positive relationship ever. A little overdramatic. A few close calls, do we end it, do we not. As I sat watching that thin and pallored tuba player shuffle his last at the end of the RoseParade I certainly didn't think we'd be here. The day was warm, and we saw the tuba being put in the back of a van and knew he hadn't made it. But it'd been a year and we were still together. There was that break I took from July to Sept, but then we got back together and i thought ok but we didn't even make it through November and there was trouble again, and because I put spins on things, I'll totally call the EDD bailing me out through March a Christmas Miracle. Which it is. But lets be honest, this relationship won't last. You're going to leave me. You're totally not really good for me in the long run, and you and i both know we have to part ways. But at least we have 3 months to divide up our belongings and talk it out and come up with a plan and lists. I'm not saying we still can't be friends, but really I know it's going to be a while. And running through this like a thin but steel-cabled anxiety is what exactly AMI going to do when the parents move out? Things keep weirdly getting delayed which makes me think something is coming around the corner, whether a husband or a job--- i will i wonder, will I? soon be married to something? or will i be walking this tighrope of getting over you for another who knows how long? Jesus what are you up to? I mean thats the thing- about this whole year really- I think you've got my best interest at heart but man, where is this all heading?
The other thing that I could've done without was my friendship with neurosis and allergies. You have ruled me. And I've had to set up some firm boundaries to keep you at bay. Soy-lecithin, whatever the fuck you are, really does make me break out in hives for whatever reason but so does other random things I have no idea what I ate, when I ate it. It's annoying. Please, and the I might be allergic to strawberries? You've got to be kidding me. What the fuck body? 2011 better have some answers is all i'm saying. And I'm going to bring up the random shoulder pain and heel tragedy of the left side, right now. The upside again, 2010, you're lucky I'm sunny because over the summer i relearned to walk and i found myself doing chattaranga in a safe and non-hazordous to my shoulder way- lesson learned. Ok. I got IT. You don't need to keep reminding me. Since then you've done nothing for my waistline and whatever is going on with my twinging right quad has got to stop. You get marks for improving my neck but that was more Jesus and less you but still I'm going to be generous. 2011 i'm going to need to see the downslope.
Twenty-10, you did give me the word "erratic". I'd had it from before but i embraced it as my own. I am erratic. I had no idea how much it would define me through the year. The fact that I several times went the wrong way on a one-way street, pretty much sums that shit up. You know, that old woman wagging her evil finger at me, like a dare to my rebellious and defiant ways and i was like, what? and off i went. The one counter to that came in February when I got the HolyDays commission. That has been a solid gold thread of obedience and blessings, even when I noted in January that I needed to cut up my credit card. (There was a drawing with flames and a pitchfork right next to it.) I'll get back to that in a minute. That commission gave this year its title. The year of necklaces. There is no way to escape what an impression, what a labor that has been. It blows all the other to-do lists out of the water.
However, March was fairly volatile after erratic got stuck to my back. So I don't know 2010. I pretty much agree that it was for everyones benefit but shitman- why can march be summed up by Ghosts? The highs of the shooting range and fondue, to a russian orthodox funeral, and the bare trees of a yet arrived spring. Pen and I did do that ghost tour, where we both smelled that musky smell of wet wool, but then her grandma olga died, and i made that drive into NY into the guts of harlem, and death stayed right at my door step as I arrived at the Olga to see Joanna into her lovely new digs. It did bring the money thing to a head. I got speared in the gut by Condemnation and still haven't quite shaken the attack but it drove me deeper into praying things and healing so whenever I think about it i do this with my hands (up the scale goes, down the scale goes, levels out). But there's still a chill in the air whenever I wonder about that whole trip. Despite that there was some real beauty to all the pain and loss, I won't deny. Walks through central park and opera and being serenaded at a piano bar, the cloisters, klo's first tea, and books on tape, and dreams foreboding and wondrous dreams.
By April 2010 the emotional meltdown thing came to a 2nd smaller crescendo. So again, 2010- really? I've never been really fond of sobbing and yet here i am again. Breaking up with Biola. I mean I get that the two of us didn't belong together, but was the crime scene necessary? So, so grim. And that woman! I can't shake her. What a harbinger. She might has well had a scythe and black cape. I get it ok. And just like march there was an upswing- warrior dash, the card "not all who wander are lost", quinoa, acupuncture, and the healing rooms of anaheim vineyard, and a trip to Chicago, oh but then there was my first ever visual migraine!.
And though by May i was completely frustrated that I wasn't 100% good at everything, especially engineering, i was visited by that Jay nomenclature and that most awesome jumping spider with the metallic pincers- and after my birthday I got to rub mud all over my body and dry out in the sun and I had some awesome korean food. And the summer with its trips to the beach and I got to meet Ash in person, just confirming the fact I've known her my whole life anyway. And my brother visiting which, oh geez. About time 2010. About time. But that's not your fault. You did facilitate the quasi-bathroom renovation of June. But hello, its now end december and are there any tiles in my Epiphany stocking? I highly DOUBT IT.
Then ok, remember the break from July-Sept. I finally began to confront, again, the fact that I am 34 and I am not ok with being a PA. Still. I am not ok with the industry. I am not ok with E! And yes in the meantime (beyond the spiral of this year) I had awesome danica outings, a trip to ventura with Sarah, wandering through Ojai with Kerry, got better at wii tennis- and I got my new name- One of the Judges (seriously revelatory)- the nigerians hacked my email account, my prayer council began a colossal meltdown, i was promised a jesus sculpey but it hasn't come 2010. (I mean I'm just saying.) By October I was exhausted by all these random highs and lows. The fidji shoes which still kick ass. Going to seattle...gluten free bread and icecaves... but then Zep dying. What is with the back and forths!
By November I finally started using my IPOD that I got in January. I went on that awesome spiritual retreat- total highlight. Downside? Yes. Jesus asking me to examine my loneliness- no-thank you. Of course He knew I needed an xbox video game obsession to get through that. You've got to be kidding me. And doing the math on how old the rest of my animals are- don't do it. Bad idea. They're all going to be dead in the next 2 years. Suck it! And lets talk about it, i broke up with my creditcard. Yes we've been having an affair, on and off since like 2001. And its way out of hand. I might as well be straddling Satan in a seedy strip club in van nuys. I so had to end it. What a fucking foothold. Needless to say it has not come without some consequences. The game setting was at easy. It zoomed past normal to Hard. And my gut can't quite stop doubling over and gasping for breath. It's shaky to say the least. And no, there's no way I can stop talking about it. Shiver. And then as we know the epic doldrums of Advent... Oh and then the day after Christmas thieves broke into my parents new garage and stole $8000 worth of stuff.
Anyway I've gone on too long in my quest to be almost thorough with you 2010. And I'm still at a loss. What the fuck was your deal? Dude, I don't even know. But then i remember all the prophesies and dreams and conversations. And there's got to be something happening here in this manic episode called 365days. I wonder. I sort of marvel at it. And in my landscape I'm getting drenched with rain on my way down the mountain.
So see you 2010. Some how you were a turning point, a brutal agony, a battle, a carcass, a field springing to life, a song, a dirge, a knife through the ribs, a bliss overlooking the kingdom, a flower facing the sun. I cannot tell you.
m.
Showing posts with label WTF. Show all posts
Showing posts with label WTF. Show all posts
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Monday, July 21, 2008
In Dreams, by M
So I was all, kudzu, I love DREAMS! And then last night i had some whacked series of dreams...(idiot you!) ok, i guess I still wouldn't trade them in but still. WTF...
Series:
1. With mom and dad in a big tent atmosphere, consumed with trying to make sure the generator is charging the batteries to the light supply... lots of debate.
2. With a friend. We're in an apartment complex, or a series of apartments. Very clear I need to move or that where ever i was was not where i should be... vague sense of danger.
3. At a school that is more like a business complex. Something is wrong with my eyes, and I feel mentally disabled though I'm in an academy for smart people. There is a vague feeling that the clock is ticking down or that something is about to happen.
4. This is where things take an absolute turn for the worse and is the most vivid part I remember: puppies-- little black and white spotted ones all around this outdoor complex and some of them have dumb rabies- sitting there listless- and some are playing with venomous snakes and are inevitably going to get bitten by them. Remembered that as the puppies were being infected (resident evil style) I had to avoid them, and also had to avoid the slithering snakes. I seemed small and contained.
Woo. Good times. Whatev!
Series:
1. With mom and dad in a big tent atmosphere, consumed with trying to make sure the generator is charging the batteries to the light supply... lots of debate.
2. With a friend. We're in an apartment complex, or a series of apartments. Very clear I need to move or that where ever i was was not where i should be... vague sense of danger.
3. At a school that is more like a business complex. Something is wrong with my eyes, and I feel mentally disabled though I'm in an academy for smart people. There is a vague feeling that the clock is ticking down or that something is about to happen.
4. This is where things take an absolute turn for the worse and is the most vivid part I remember: puppies-- little black and white spotted ones all around this outdoor complex and some of them have dumb rabies- sitting there listless- and some are playing with venomous snakes and are inevitably going to get bitten by them. Remembered that as the puppies were being infected (resident evil style) I had to avoid them, and also had to avoid the slithering snakes. I seemed small and contained.
Woo. Good times. Whatev!
Monday, May 12, 2008
I am confused.
1. Parvati?
2. Parvati? Really?!
3. Amanda did not win.
4. Ozzy professed his undying love to Amanda?
5. Parvati. Won. Really.
6. Jonny Fairplay, still befuddling me by landing a model, having a baby with a model, being engaged to a model. Although, it kind of makes sense because if I remember correctly, they share an interest in wrestling.
7. They're going to Africa next time, and the setting looks very much more promising than the last Survivor: Africa, where the cast was essentially confined to brush circles, to stay safe from the lions. But here there are like, giant gorillas, and surfing hippos, and other large creatures wandering afoot. Good luck with that.
8. Parvati won?!
9. Amanda's answers to the jury apparently sucked. Why did she flake and not admit to Cirie the reason she wouldn't take her to the end is because she had a better chance of winning against Parv? She would have spoken the truth and buttered up Cirie, simultaneously.
10. Natalie? I don't even know what to say about those jury questions, other than WTF.
Oh well. It was entertaining, anyway. At least James won the Fan Favorite prize, and I just love him. At least Erik was a good sport about being thrown under the bus. Amanda and Ozzy are still together, which I suppose it cute. Confusing, but cute. And Parvati is a millionaire. Will wonders never cease.
Thursday, May 8, 2008
W just bought my dog a new leg.
We should get our rebate check next week. Originally, I flaked and thought for some reason the last 2 of the SSN in question was 09, but it's 99. So sad. But not really, because by now I would have had the thing spent, and that would have been bad. Because my dog, my Bender-dog, my B-dog Girl, needs to have surgery. She's been limping around for a few weeks now, not appearing to be in any pain, but clearly not using the one back leg. She's still running, playing, not wincing, which is why we waited to take her to the vet. You know they pretty much rape your wallet for making eye contact with your animal. And our wallet is scheduled to be dearly raped on Monday. The ligament that holds Bender's knee together is completely blown. The other back leg may not be long to follow. It's degenerative, nothing we could do. And she's less than half her life expectancy, only 5 1/2 years old, so of course we are going to fix her. The poor thing. She's not going to move the same again, but hopefully will respond well to the surgery. Which is the "cheap" surgery. At $1,100. So, um, thanks W. Consider this our little contribution to help recharge the economy. And our dog.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
ack!
Okay, so per my New Year's resolution, I do plan on having a large yard sale this year. I'm thinking late March, early April, I haven't really decided yet. The accumulation of crap for this yard sale is tucked in every spare corner of the guest bedroom and the laundry room, and also the shed. It's starting to make me tweaky, and I need to organize it better. I really just want it all gone. Last night, I had this random inspiration that I should just take the big bags of clothes I have and donate them. It's kind of a pain to sell clothes at a yard sale, to organize them and price them out and all, find a way to display them, etc. So I decide to take care of this, pronto, and last night I load up the three large, heavy trash bags into the car for this morning's errand run. In an even bigger flash of inspiration, I remember the clothes recycle bins that sit in the far, far corner of the Target parking lot. I don't know much about them--does anyone know where these clothes go? I probably should have looked into this further, but frankly these days, I don't have time to mess around. I figure whether they're actually donated to a good cause of shreded into bits and literally recycled, it's not a bad thing. The most appealing part of using the bins is convenience; not only are they right by Target, but I don't have to talk to anyone. Just drive up, drop off, and go. Leave the kids in the car. No dirty looks and bullshit, like they tend to give you at the ILM GCF.
The bins look harmless enough, just two giant blue metal boxes with pretty large openings. One bin's opening was larger than the other, and in fact it was kind of bent up, like someone had been extremely determined to cram something in there. I take the heaviest bag first and drop it into the bin with the bent-up opening, because I don't think it will fit in the other one. So I drop in the bag, and someone speaks. A man, with a deep voice, says OUCH!
OMG!
There's someone in the bin! Sleeping? Homeless? Unfortunate frat boy? I mean, on a cold day, if there's nowhere else in the world for you to go for a nap, I would imagine a bin full of clothes wouldn't be a bad idea. Except that people do deposit there. And I had just done so, with a really heavy bag. My adrenaline kicked right in, not knowing what the hell might happen next. What if he started throwing shoes at me? Or even just shouting more at me. I'd probably pee my pants. I ran and grabbed the other two bags, managed to shove them in the other bin with the smaller opening, got in the car and booked it to Target. Laughing a little hysterically, of course. What would you have done?
The bins look harmless enough, just two giant blue metal boxes with pretty large openings. One bin's opening was larger than the other, and in fact it was kind of bent up, like someone had been extremely determined to cram something in there. I take the heaviest bag first and drop it into the bin with the bent-up opening, because I don't think it will fit in the other one. So I drop in the bag, and someone speaks. A man, with a deep voice, says OUCH!
OMG!
There's someone in the bin! Sleeping? Homeless? Unfortunate frat boy? I mean, on a cold day, if there's nowhere else in the world for you to go for a nap, I would imagine a bin full of clothes wouldn't be a bad idea. Except that people do deposit there. And I had just done so, with a really heavy bag. My adrenaline kicked right in, not knowing what the hell might happen next. What if he started throwing shoes at me? Or even just shouting more at me. I'd probably pee my pants. I ran and grabbed the other two bags, managed to shove them in the other bin with the smaller opening, got in the car and booked it to Target. Laughing a little hysterically, of course. What would you have done?
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
why
I realize that as a person, I tend to have very nostalgic tendencies, not wanting to readily throw certain things away. Also having a tendency to feel claustrophobic around too much clutter, I have made a concerted effort to downsize over the past few years, excising a whole lot of essentially worthless crap that I should have gotten rid of years ago so that I won't have to tote it around forever and eventually be buried with it. It's a work in progress, this process, but I feel like I have gotten pretty good at separating the wheat from the chaff.Every once in awhile though, apparently, I miss something. Maybe I've just looked at it so many times, I don't even realize it's there any more. And it takes my toddler to point out, "Pumpkin?" and show me that yes, indeed, I still have a Halloween pencil in our pencil cup that I must have gotten in 5th grade. Seriously. It's one of those pencils with the stackable leads, where when the lead gets dull, you just take the little piece out and push it into the top of the pencil to get the next lead? And I know I haven't seen those since the 80s. In my mind I picture all of my classmates who must have received the same pencil as a class party favor or whatever, eventually sorting through their pencil supplies as they grew up and throwing the Halloween pencil out. They were probably 12 when they did so. Me, I'm 29. And I still haven't thrown it out because by now I figure it won't be that long before my daughter could play with it.
Anyway, maybe I'm just a very diligent recycler.
Thursday, November 15, 2007
spotted in the hood
A cold front is blowing in today, making for some wacky weather here in ILM. Earlier this morning it was blue-sky sunny but wind was already picking up, with the air slightly chilled. A few hours later it's gray and just has that look of "storm" about it. With it, a kooky, what I assume to be homeless woman walks up and down the street outside our house, having a meltdown because her armload of trash keeps blowing away.
The woman is middle-aged, wears a pair of jeans and raggedy sweatshirt, and generally has that air of "disheveled" about her. I don't know if she really is homeless, or if she is, wtf she's doing around here--there's just no place to really go. But she's carrying an armload of trash with her, mostly crumpled up paper, and spends about half an hour engaging in the following routine:
walk a short distance
lose some paper
drop all the paper
bend at the waist and hang there for several long moments, as though entirely defeated
pick up a few wads of paper
lose that, too
watch paper blow away
march another short distance, looking pissed
pick up paper
lose paper
watch paper blow away
march in a circle at intersection, now holding canvas bag--not sure where bag came from
pick up more paper
lose it
stand for several long moments, gazing in distance, holding hair in pose of frustration
march away
look angry
wave a few cars to move on past her while she stands in the middle of the street
leave paper in pen's yard (THANKS)
skulk away down the street before pen can work up nerve to snap a picture
The woman is middle-aged, wears a pair of jeans and raggedy sweatshirt, and generally has that air of "disheveled" about her. I don't know if she really is homeless, or if she is, wtf she's doing around here--there's just no place to really go. But she's carrying an armload of trash with her, mostly crumpled up paper, and spends about half an hour engaging in the following routine:
walk a short distance
lose some paper
drop all the paper
bend at the waist and hang there for several long moments, as though entirely defeated
pick up a few wads of paper
lose that, too
watch paper blow away
march another short distance, looking pissed
pick up paper
lose paper
watch paper blow away
march in a circle at intersection, now holding canvas bag--not sure where bag came from
pick up more paper
lose it
stand for several long moments, gazing in distance, holding hair in pose of frustration
march away
look angry
wave a few cars to move on past her while she stands in the middle of the street
leave paper in pen's yard (THANKS)
skulk away down the street before pen can work up nerve to snap a picture
Thursday, October 25, 2007
riding the wave
Does it work:
Accupressure to induce labor??? Possibly. I just know I went into labor within 24 hours. For real.
Contractions: Definitely more intense this time. Although labor progressed more slowly.
The iPod:
Excellent for focusing during labor. For tuning out distractions, voices, one's (dear) husband and doctor discussing SPORTS. I used it off and on, with a mainly mellow mix, though during transition, I opted for higher-energy No Doubt.
Epidural:
Absolutely. Indispensible. Hurt, yes; was freaky, yes. But this anesthesiologist administered it somehow even better than I had with K.Lo, and I'm just, I don't know. Speechless. Eternally grateful.
So meaningful:
Presence of parents during labor, mom during birth.
Sheepish bragging rights:
Took just five minutes to push baby out. C r a z y.
Burst into untamable tears:
Approximately 2 1/2 days after having baby, just the same as last time. The inevitable hormonal crash. Brought on by K.Lo holding N.Lo, sitting all together on couch as family.
The next evening, when J.Lo suggested moving N.Lo into guest bedroom, instead of the Little Ones sharing a room. (Due to K.Lo being terribly difficult to put to bed.) After all the planning, all the work... before they're even really sharing the room... and the furniture we'd have to get rid of... and all the shuffling around. Really, it is a bridge we will cross if and when we come to it. But even in theory, I still can't discuss it without becoming completely, irrationally upset.
And today, while holding Baby N.Lo in quiet moment by self, marveling at how little, how perfect. Amazing.
Remembering:
In the week after pregnancy, it's best not to actively think too much. The thoughts will come anyway, and many will pack quite an emotional punch. Don't fight it, don't get too caught up in it, just ride the wave, as this too shall pass.
What it's like to hold, and care for, and simply witness a newborn, which is to say, wow.
Like riding a bike:
Nursing, multi-tasking while nursing, the art of half-sleeping while nursing. The learning curve has gone way up the second time around. While your new baby's personality and feeding style is different, the whole ordeal is a lot less mysterious, and you've got skills. Here, the universe throws you a bone.
All new:
Changing a boy's diaper. Think I've got it down.
Juggling a toddler's needs with a tiny baby's needs, with own needs. Still figuring this one out, suspect I will be for some time. And once I think I have the answer, probably all circumstances will change, requiring yet another path.
Out the window:
Long-term personal goals, i.e. weight loss, fitness, everyone sleeping peacefully through the night in his or her respective bed. Not even worrying about it right now.
Curiosities:
Why, after having a baby, does one's belly button migrate 2 inches north. And does this problem ever solve itself? Became pregnant again too quickly the last time around to find out.
And in other news...
Can I possibly love more, I don't know:
Heather on ANTM. Sweet, intriguing, the best results from photo shoots. Really hope she wins.
Pretention:
Recently joined ranks of Facebook after learning it is not as ghetto as MySpace, and one day looked up high school classmates. This one guy, who graduated a year early and incidentally beat me out by one spot in class ranking, the smug little turd, has no less than three Facebook profiles. The only difference I see are his networks, and possibly the general feel of his photos. One shows him in a suit, smiling smarmily. Another, playing cello in a field. The third, he's all "weekend out with my hot blonde girlfriend." Each network, of course, is something along the lines of "Princeton Alum," or "Cornell Alum" (Andy on The Office, anyone?). Basically, it's a big WTF and confirmation that some things never change--because it's all about status, baby.
TV:
I have dropped (sadly, I know) Pushing Daisies from the lineup. It's not that I don't enjoy it and think it's immensely clever. But I take too long to watch it, and half the time either don't pay attention or fall asleep. Maybe it's just not for me right now. Maybe a DVD Netflix marathon, someday.
Accupressure to induce labor??? Possibly. I just know I went into labor within 24 hours. For real.
Contractions: Definitely more intense this time. Although labor progressed more slowly.
The iPod:
Excellent for focusing during labor. For tuning out distractions, voices, one's (dear) husband and doctor discussing SPORTS. I used it off and on, with a mainly mellow mix, though during transition, I opted for higher-energy No Doubt.
Epidural:
Absolutely. Indispensible. Hurt, yes; was freaky, yes. But this anesthesiologist administered it somehow even better than I had with K.Lo, and I'm just, I don't know. Speechless. Eternally grateful.
So meaningful:
Presence of parents during labor, mom during birth.
Sheepish bragging rights:
Took just five minutes to push baby out. C r a z y.
Burst into untamable tears:
Approximately 2 1/2 days after having baby, just the same as last time. The inevitable hormonal crash. Brought on by K.Lo holding N.Lo, sitting all together on couch as family.
The next evening, when J.Lo suggested moving N.Lo into guest bedroom, instead of the Little Ones sharing a room. (Due to K.Lo being terribly difficult to put to bed.) After all the planning, all the work... before they're even really sharing the room... and the furniture we'd have to get rid of... and all the shuffling around. Really, it is a bridge we will cross if and when we come to it. But even in theory, I still can't discuss it without becoming completely, irrationally upset.
And today, while holding Baby N.Lo in quiet moment by self, marveling at how little, how perfect. Amazing.
Remembering:
In the week after pregnancy, it's best not to actively think too much. The thoughts will come anyway, and many will pack quite an emotional punch. Don't fight it, don't get too caught up in it, just ride the wave, as this too shall pass.
What it's like to hold, and care for, and simply witness a newborn, which is to say, wow.
Like riding a bike:
Nursing, multi-tasking while nursing, the art of half-sleeping while nursing. The learning curve has gone way up the second time around. While your new baby's personality and feeding style is different, the whole ordeal is a lot less mysterious, and you've got skills. Here, the universe throws you a bone.
All new:
Changing a boy's diaper. Think I've got it down.
Juggling a toddler's needs with a tiny baby's needs, with own needs. Still figuring this one out, suspect I will be for some time. And once I think I have the answer, probably all circumstances will change, requiring yet another path.
Out the window:
Long-term personal goals, i.e. weight loss, fitness, everyone sleeping peacefully through the night in his or her respective bed. Not even worrying about it right now.
Curiosities:
Why, after having a baby, does one's belly button migrate 2 inches north. And does this problem ever solve itself? Became pregnant again too quickly the last time around to find out.
And in other news...
Can I possibly love more, I don't know:
Heather on ANTM. Sweet, intriguing, the best results from photo shoots. Really hope she wins.
Pretention:
Recently joined ranks of Facebook after learning it is not as ghetto as MySpace, and one day looked up high school classmates. This one guy, who graduated a year early and incidentally beat me out by one spot in class ranking, the smug little turd, has no less than three Facebook profiles. The only difference I see are his networks, and possibly the general feel of his photos. One shows him in a suit, smiling smarmily. Another, playing cello in a field. The third, he's all "weekend out with my hot blonde girlfriend." Each network, of course, is something along the lines of "Princeton Alum," or "Cornell Alum" (Andy on The Office, anyone?). Basically, it's a big WTF and confirmation that some things never change--because it's all about status, baby.
TV:
I have dropped (sadly, I know) Pushing Daisies from the lineup. It's not that I don't enjoy it and think it's immensely clever. But I take too long to watch it, and half the time either don't pay attention or fall asleep. Maybe it's just not for me right now. Maybe a DVD Netflix marathon, someday.
Monday, October 1, 2007
dear october,
If there were any year I would love for you to break your streak of general blah-ness, it would be this one. I don't always feel fair in saying that luck-wise, October is my worst month, because it does contain several friend and family birthdays, along with J.Lo's, and I would be remiss if I didn't acknowledge the fun in those celebrations. Not to mention Halloween! And it's fall, and the weather finally cools off from the oppressive heat of summer. So there are lots of good things, really, about you, October, it's just maybe cosmically? for me, I have great luck and high energy in the spring, and a general feeling of ickiness coupled with some bad luck in the fall, particularly October.
But maybe it's all a matter of perspective.
As far as Baby N.Lo, yesterday was still September, but I'm still exhausted from it. What I have dreaded more than anything with labor is the False Alarm, i.e. going to the hospital and being sent home. I mean, I know it happens all the time, and you live, and you have lost little, other than time, the emotional energy of thinking you're having a baby, and perhaps some pride. It is not, in the end, really a big deal. But here's what happened:
All morning yesterday, beginning early, like before the dawn, I was having contractions. Baby N.Lo is scheduled to arrive in about 3 1/2 weeks, so hello... kind of unexpected. And actually, he would be fine, if born so early--"they" say that at about 37 weeks, lung capacity is adequate for delivery, and your baby is still considered full-term. We're just a tiny bit outside of that, so I imagine (and hope) we'd be all good. Anyway, back to contractions: 10 minutes apart, then 8, then 4. When I had K.Lo, I had in my head just what I knew from books and classes and such: Go to the hospital when contractions are less than 5 minutes apart, consistently, and intense enough that you are unable to walk or talk during them. The intensity part just never happened, but the timing was there, I was a day past my due date, and so we went, and K.Lo was born.
This time, the intensity was there, as was the timing--four two straight hours, I recorded 4 minutes apart. And so I threw some more things in my bag, J.Lo loaded it all up in the car, left K.Lo with her grandparents, and off we went to the hospital.
Another thing you read/hear about re: labor is that you probably shouldn't eat a lot. I wasn't very hungry anyway, but I figured, okay, I'll have it a little bit of food, and it will be what I like... right? Had 2 donuts in the morning and later some potato chips. If only I had a camera to capture the look on my nurse's face. I totally knew it sounded bad, but what can you do. Anyway, after the oh-so-lovely pelvic exam, in which it was determined that I was 2cm dilated and 50% effaced, it was also determined I was possibly... hungry. So they gave me a microwave meal of chicken and stuffing and mashed potatoes, as well as a sugary drink, oj mixed with Sierra Mist.
Meanwhile, I am thinking if I am sent home because these contractions are really hunger pains, I will never live it down.
But, they were not. After eating the meal, my contractions did space out, but holy hell, they were strong. I don't remember them being that strong the last time until well after my water was broken. Ultimately, though, they must have been unproductive, because an hour later, there was no change, i.e. Baby N.Lo was not ready, and there was no point in staying at the hospital. They gave me a sleeping pill and sent me on my way--the idea being that I needed rest, and if it were true labor, it would continue regardless of the sleeping pill.
I guess, as odd as it seems to me, it was false labor. I feel tired, queasy, and weird, with no real contractions. I don't particularly feel disappointed that we didn't have the baby yesterday, as it's early, and at this point I'm not really in a hurry. He will be ready when he's ready. The nurse did say, though I take it subjectively, that she didn't see me making it to my due date, but we will see.
I guess I just feel a little like I've been through the wringer. Another WTF moment, if you will. Babies are weird, y'all. The beginning of a life is just as unpredictable as the end. It's just the Waiting and the Wondering that will get you.
So anyway, October. This year, maybe you could ease up on your usual antics? September 30th did not bode particularly well, although I suppose it just was what it was. In the meantime, if you could go ahead and arrange a Clear Sign that it's time to go to the hospital, that would be great. Rather than this whole vague contraction business--maybe some water breaking?? It would really make things a lot easier.
xoxo,
pensive pen
But maybe it's all a matter of perspective.
As far as Baby N.Lo, yesterday was still September, but I'm still exhausted from it. What I have dreaded more than anything with labor is the False Alarm, i.e. going to the hospital and being sent home. I mean, I know it happens all the time, and you live, and you have lost little, other than time, the emotional energy of thinking you're having a baby, and perhaps some pride. It is not, in the end, really a big deal. But here's what happened:
All morning yesterday, beginning early, like before the dawn, I was having contractions. Baby N.Lo is scheduled to arrive in about 3 1/2 weeks, so hello... kind of unexpected. And actually, he would be fine, if born so early--"they" say that at about 37 weeks, lung capacity is adequate for delivery, and your baby is still considered full-term. We're just a tiny bit outside of that, so I imagine (and hope) we'd be all good. Anyway, back to contractions: 10 minutes apart, then 8, then 4. When I had K.Lo, I had in my head just what I knew from books and classes and such: Go to the hospital when contractions are less than 5 minutes apart, consistently, and intense enough that you are unable to walk or talk during them. The intensity part just never happened, but the timing was there, I was a day past my due date, and so we went, and K.Lo was born.
This time, the intensity was there, as was the timing--four two straight hours, I recorded 4 minutes apart. And so I threw some more things in my bag, J.Lo loaded it all up in the car, left K.Lo with her grandparents, and off we went to the hospital.
Another thing you read/hear about re: labor is that you probably shouldn't eat a lot. I wasn't very hungry anyway, but I figured, okay, I'll have it a little bit of food, and it will be what I like... right? Had 2 donuts in the morning and later some potato chips. If only I had a camera to capture the look on my nurse's face. I totally knew it sounded bad, but what can you do. Anyway, after the oh-so-lovely pelvic exam, in which it was determined that I was 2cm dilated and 50% effaced, it was also determined I was possibly... hungry. So they gave me a microwave meal of chicken and stuffing and mashed potatoes, as well as a sugary drink, oj mixed with Sierra Mist.
Meanwhile, I am thinking if I am sent home because these contractions are really hunger pains, I will never live it down.
But, they were not. After eating the meal, my contractions did space out, but holy hell, they were strong. I don't remember them being that strong the last time until well after my water was broken. Ultimately, though, they must have been unproductive, because an hour later, there was no change, i.e. Baby N.Lo was not ready, and there was no point in staying at the hospital. They gave me a sleeping pill and sent me on my way--the idea being that I needed rest, and if it were true labor, it would continue regardless of the sleeping pill.
I guess, as odd as it seems to me, it was false labor. I feel tired, queasy, and weird, with no real contractions. I don't particularly feel disappointed that we didn't have the baby yesterday, as it's early, and at this point I'm not really in a hurry. He will be ready when he's ready. The nurse did say, though I take it subjectively, that she didn't see me making it to my due date, but we will see.
I guess I just feel a little like I've been through the wringer. Another WTF moment, if you will. Babies are weird, y'all. The beginning of a life is just as unpredictable as the end. It's just the Waiting and the Wondering that will get you.
So anyway, October. This year, maybe you could ease up on your usual antics? September 30th did not bode particularly well, although I suppose it just was what it was. In the meantime, if you could go ahead and arrange a Clear Sign that it's time to go to the hospital, that would be great. Rather than this whole vague contraction business--maybe some water breaking?? It would really make things a lot easier.
xoxo,
pensive pen
Friday, March 2, 2007
between complacency and panic
(With a little bit of rage.) So, about being pregnant for the second time. Sometime last fall, shortly before K.Lo became mobile (and Intelligence returned from vacation), I decided yes, I am SO ready for a second baby. It was like, let's GO, let's get on with it, woohoo. And in many ways, I feel the same. It's not something I can really verbalize, it's just, that's what I wish for, another baby. And here I am, on my way.
It was such a short time ago that I had K.Lo, the physicality of pregnancy feels very familiar. And yet... and yet. One very positive thing is that this go-around, I feel I know what to expect. I know that every pregnancy is different, just like every baby, but the basic facts of what will happen, what it will all feel like, are all stored in my Points of Reference. So in a lot of ways, I'm taking it all in stride, la-dee-da, hum-dee-ho, falling asleep on the couch at 9 every night and trying to eat a little healthier this time. I know what's going on.
But then, there are these moments. The wow, really? moments. Like, I did that once? I carried a baby to term and then got the thing out? I feel like I must have been so tough--how was it such a short time ago? I made it through all the blood tests and the unspeakable poking and prodding and the general day-to-day discomfort? Really? Beyond morning sickness, which was absolutely wretched and way too long the first time, I went through the achy waddling phase and the killer heartburn and the contractions and whatever else, too? And lived? I just... it seems slightly impossible to me, in these moments. The moments that are laced with uncertainty and panic.
But I guess... I'm doing it. There's not much turning back now, so.
I went to the doctor this morning, met with everyone's favorite nurse, Vapid J, who has such a pre-programmed list of things to say that I don't think she even really listens or can process her way through a question to give a unique and proper answer, should the situation call for it. Exercise helps you through the nausea, she says. That's my personal favorite. Oh, and the seabands, the fucking seabands for morning sickness. She says she likes them so much, but I'm like, what do you mean, you like them. Have you ever used them, and for morning sickness? I don't think so. I think she likes them because they sound quaint. My wrists had indents in them so deep two years ago from seabands, it made me want to vomit even more. I mean, if they work for you, great, fantastic. But I just want to sit down one day and tell Vapid J where she can stick her seabands--and I would too, if I thought it would make her blink.
Anyway, the second part of the visit involved a blood draw across the street in the new lab building, which I can already tell is going to be a joy to visit on a regular basis. I shouldn't complain, since it's still pretty close, I don't have to drive anywhere for results. And I probably won't have K.Lo with me most of the time, like I did today. The stairs are the first thing that frosted me, but maybe I was just in a bad mood from Vapid J. Then they must keep the place about 62 degrees cold. And then, okay--I know she didn't mean to do it, this lady from the lab. I know she probably draws blood at least 15 times a day perfectly, and I've had my blood drawn several times in life, but--WTF. WTF WTF WTF. When drawing the third vial out, that needle somehow shifted in my vein, and literally took my breath away. My bicep still, STILL, aches an hour and a half later. My arm is blotchy with these weird pale spots and my muscle feels like it's being squeezed and/or bruised. WTF!!!
See, I'm becoming a wuss. With a slight bit of rage. I think I need to get in touch with my complacent side again. I miss Complacent Pen. Maybe a nap would find her again.
It was such a short time ago that I had K.Lo, the physicality of pregnancy feels very familiar. And yet... and yet. One very positive thing is that this go-around, I feel I know what to expect. I know that every pregnancy is different, just like every baby, but the basic facts of what will happen, what it will all feel like, are all stored in my Points of Reference. So in a lot of ways, I'm taking it all in stride, la-dee-da, hum-dee-ho, falling asleep on the couch at 9 every night and trying to eat a little healthier this time. I know what's going on.
But then, there are these moments. The wow, really? moments. Like, I did that once? I carried a baby to term and then got the thing out? I feel like I must have been so tough--how was it such a short time ago? I made it through all the blood tests and the unspeakable poking and prodding and the general day-to-day discomfort? Really? Beyond morning sickness, which was absolutely wretched and way too long the first time, I went through the achy waddling phase and the killer heartburn and the contractions and whatever else, too? And lived? I just... it seems slightly impossible to me, in these moments. The moments that are laced with uncertainty and panic.
But I guess... I'm doing it. There's not much turning back now, so.
I went to the doctor this morning, met with everyone's favorite nurse, Vapid J, who has such a pre-programmed list of things to say that I don't think she even really listens or can process her way through a question to give a unique and proper answer, should the situation call for it. Exercise helps you through the nausea, she says. That's my personal favorite. Oh, and the seabands, the fucking seabands for morning sickness. She says she likes them so much, but I'm like, what do you mean, you like them. Have you ever used them, and for morning sickness? I don't think so. I think she likes them because they sound quaint. My wrists had indents in them so deep two years ago from seabands, it made me want to vomit even more. I mean, if they work for you, great, fantastic. But I just want to sit down one day and tell Vapid J where she can stick her seabands--and I would too, if I thought it would make her blink.
Anyway, the second part of the visit involved a blood draw across the street in the new lab building, which I can already tell is going to be a joy to visit on a regular basis. I shouldn't complain, since it's still pretty close, I don't have to drive anywhere for results. And I probably won't have K.Lo with me most of the time, like I did today. The stairs are the first thing that frosted me, but maybe I was just in a bad mood from Vapid J. Then they must keep the place about 62 degrees cold. And then, okay--I know she didn't mean to do it, this lady from the lab. I know she probably draws blood at least 15 times a day perfectly, and I've had my blood drawn several times in life, but--WTF. WTF WTF WTF. When drawing the third vial out, that needle somehow shifted in my vein, and literally took my breath away. My bicep still, STILL, aches an hour and a half later. My arm is blotchy with these weird pale spots and my muscle feels like it's being squeezed and/or bruised. WTF!!!
See, I'm becoming a wuss. With a slight bit of rage. I think I need to get in touch with my complacent side again. I miss Complacent Pen. Maybe a nap would find her again.
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