Hyphen took the week off. He cautioned me before hand that he didn't want me to ruin his week by having a baby. My reply, as it is to everyone who asks me to have or refrain from having the baby on a certain day: "I will do my best to oblige all requests."
Now, I thought he would spend the week watching the food network and the cooking channel and maybe we would go to Galveston or some state park and he would make a really elaborate sandwich for the excursion. But no, this is what he did instead:
1. power washed the deck, front porch and driveway
2. blew leaves in the yard
3. fertilized the yard
4. scraped and repainted our door jamb
5. repainted the railing on the front porch
6. repainted the railing on the back deck
7. fixed the ceiling fan
8. cleaned out the trap in the bathroom sink
9. Painted thrift store changing table, transforming it from 70's brown into vintage white
and that was all by Tuesday. I told my mom about this flurry of activity and she told me that this must mean the baby was coming soon and he was nesting. Today, he announced he was going to spend the day in bed and watch tv, and even though I think he is disgusting for doing that and even more disgusting for not having showered since Tuesday night-- I am cool with that--he's on vacation.
Now, during most of his activity, I was sitting down, relaxing, entertaining Annabelle and reading one of my Outlander books. I felt guilty, but I was really tired and I just didn't feel like helping. My mom said this meant the baby was coming soon, and my body was storing up some energy reserves.
On the dog front, the dog follows me where ever I go, even in rooms where she is normally too scared to venture. When I sit on the couch she paces back and forth in front of the couch rubbing her back against my shins. She licks my stomach whenever it is exposed, which, since I refuse to buy larger maternity shirts, is quite a lot. And the other day she licked my boobs (I was clothed at the time).
My mom says my dog is "stoopeed" and my house would be much cleaner if I got rid of her.
I think she is three for three this week.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Saturday, October 23, 2010
things I think about in the middle of the night
Before I begin, I would like to dedicate this entry to a guy who once told me that the bushes I was looking at were mangroves. We were on a car ride from Mexico back to South Padre Island, where our law conference was being held. He told me this after we played 20 questions and his "answer" was St. Ignatius Loyola, (everyone else's "answer" was someone like Madonna, but not his) but before he told me that Harry Truman was a notorious womanizer. It was then I realized he was full of shit, having just read a biography on Truman. Everyone in the car, except for me and my girlfriend were in varying degrees of intoxication, so I suppose I could have forgiven him, except that another guy who was in Outward Bound pointed out that the bushes were not mangroves. For years after at work, whenever anyone said something improbable, someone else would invariably say "I've got to call mangrove on that one...."
Harvard, this one is for you.
Last night, Annabelle was sobbing in her bed and screaming for her mama. It was 1:30. Hyphen quietly told me "don't do it," but am a sucker and a glutton for punishment, so I went in there. When I got in there, she quited down--immediately and started to smile this saccharine, angelic smile. I sat down in the chair by her bed and she started to say, in her super sweet voice "Mama, you are my blessed mother." (Catholicism is already confusing this poor girl).
It was at this point that I started to ponder the nature of man. I took some philosophy class at some point that talked about the idea of the noble savage. That man in his purest state is basically good and civilization and its trapping perverts him. Then there is another school of thought that man is born without morals and is evil and civilization tames him. This is where Harvard comes in. He could enlighten you as to all the details of these two theories and it would sound like this "well, actually, it was Hobbes, who espoused in leviathan ..."
I was thinking about this because I was trying to decide how badly I was being manipulated. How we got so far off course from when she was a baby and I would put her in the crib awake and she would drift off to sleep and remain so until the next morning. Occasionally she would cry, but I always had the fortitude to not go in her room. Was that simply because she could not say "Mama, mama! I need you mama"? If she could have said it, would she, or is this a learned behaviour on her part. Whatever it was, the thought occurred to me that she is a savage, that must be tamed. I explained to her that I was going to go back to my room and she was going to stay in her big girl bed. Her sweet musings quickly turned into a full on screaming and crying tantrum with signs of possible vomiting coming down the pike. Not wanting to clean up vomit--the child can cry herself into urping-- at 1:30 in the morning, I told her she could come into bed with us. She then asked if she could bring Snoopy and her Dora book. I said no.
Later, when, Snoopy, Dora Goes to the Dentist, Annabelle, the dog, Hyphen and I were safely ensconced in the bedroom I asked Hyphen "do you think that man is a noble savage or do you think civilization betters him?" he grunted, turned over and continued snoring. The dog heard me though, and started wagging her tail really hard, making a thump, thump sound on the floor. I am not sure what she thought on the matter, but it is clear to me that someone in our house is definitely being tamed.
Harvard, this one is for you.
Last night, Annabelle was sobbing in her bed and screaming for her mama. It was 1:30. Hyphen quietly told me "don't do it," but am a sucker and a glutton for punishment, so I went in there. When I got in there, she quited down--immediately and started to smile this saccharine, angelic smile. I sat down in the chair by her bed and she started to say, in her super sweet voice "Mama, you are my blessed mother." (Catholicism is already confusing this poor girl).
It was at this point that I started to ponder the nature of man. I took some philosophy class at some point that talked about the idea of the noble savage. That man in his purest state is basically good and civilization and its trapping perverts him. Then there is another school of thought that man is born without morals and is evil and civilization tames him. This is where Harvard comes in. He could enlighten you as to all the details of these two theories and it would sound like this "well, actually, it was Hobbes, who espoused in leviathan ..."
I was thinking about this because I was trying to decide how badly I was being manipulated. How we got so far off course from when she was a baby and I would put her in the crib awake and she would drift off to sleep and remain so until the next morning. Occasionally she would cry, but I always had the fortitude to not go in her room. Was that simply because she could not say "Mama, mama! I need you mama"? If she could have said it, would she, or is this a learned behaviour on her part. Whatever it was, the thought occurred to me that she is a savage, that must be tamed. I explained to her that I was going to go back to my room and she was going to stay in her big girl bed. Her sweet musings quickly turned into a full on screaming and crying tantrum with signs of possible vomiting coming down the pike. Not wanting to clean up vomit--the child can cry herself into urping-- at 1:30 in the morning, I told her she could come into bed with us. She then asked if she could bring Snoopy and her Dora book. I said no.
Later, when, Snoopy, Dora Goes to the Dentist, Annabelle, the dog, Hyphen and I were safely ensconced in the bedroom I asked Hyphen "do you think that man is a noble savage or do you think civilization betters him?" he grunted, turned over and continued snoring. The dog heard me though, and started wagging her tail really hard, making a thump, thump sound on the floor. I am not sure what she thought on the matter, but it is clear to me that someone in our house is definitely being tamed.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
stangers and neighbors and insensitive people
1. Strangers:
I have had three people in the past week tell me that I am going to have my baby any day now. Two of them worked at whataburger (yes, I have been to whataburger twice this week, screw you judgy people, I am gestating dammit!), one at HEB and with each one of them the conversation went exactly like this:
stranger: "when's your baby due?"
Me: "nov. 20th."
stranger: "nu-uh girl, that baby's coming next week."
Me: "you think so?"
Stranger: "that baby's already dropped. look how low you are. No, that baby's coming next week."
I told this to my OB in a futile attempt for her to change my due date back to it's original day, and not the one she devised using her fancy ultrasound machine--oh, excuse me, scientific instrument. But apparently she felt her medical degree trumped the motherly wisdom of the whataburger ladies and wouldn't even agree to split the difference with me. I am beginning to get on board with H's assessment of most doctors --western science does not understand the eastern man-- except mine mantra is something like this "skinny OBs whose kids are 12 and 8 forget how some people start to feel as if they have been pregnant for their entire lives." Well, at least my entire mid to late 30s.
2. Neighbors.
My parents have really nice next door neighbors who they spend a lot of time with. This weekend, I was in town so grandma and grandpa could visit (babysit) with Annabelle while H and I went to a wedding in Dripping Springs ( a place where we now want to move). The neighbors came by the yard to say "hi"
Brenda: "oh, you look great, you don't look that big. Your face looks perfectly normal. From the descriptions I was getting I was expecting..."
Me: "Jabba the Hut? Because that is what my sister said she was expecting. God--what is that woman saying about me?"
Brenda(nervous laughter, like "oh shit, I got Toni in trouble"): well, you look beautiful.
I left and went to check on my mom and sister and the twins, who were also visiting.
Me: "moooommmmm! what are telling people about me? Brenda said "you don't look that big." what are you saying??? And she said I look perfectly normal."
3. Insensitive people
Mom: "sweetie, she is just being kind."
I have had three people in the past week tell me that I am going to have my baby any day now. Two of them worked at whataburger (yes, I have been to whataburger twice this week, screw you judgy people, I am gestating dammit!), one at HEB and with each one of them the conversation went exactly like this:
stranger: "when's your baby due?"
Me: "nov. 20th."
stranger: "nu-uh girl, that baby's coming next week."
Me: "you think so?"
Stranger: "that baby's already dropped. look how low you are. No, that baby's coming next week."
I told this to my OB in a futile attempt for her to change my due date back to it's original day, and not the one she devised using her fancy ultrasound machine--oh, excuse me, scientific instrument. But apparently she felt her medical degree trumped the motherly wisdom of the whataburger ladies and wouldn't even agree to split the difference with me. I am beginning to get on board with H's assessment of most doctors --western science does not understand the eastern man-- except mine mantra is something like this "skinny OBs whose kids are 12 and 8 forget how some people start to feel as if they have been pregnant for their entire lives." Well, at least my entire mid to late 30s.
2. Neighbors.
My parents have really nice next door neighbors who they spend a lot of time with. This weekend, I was in town so grandma and grandpa could visit (babysit) with Annabelle while H and I went to a wedding in Dripping Springs ( a place where we now want to move). The neighbors came by the yard to say "hi"
Brenda: "oh, you look great, you don't look that big. Your face looks perfectly normal. From the descriptions I was getting I was expecting..."
Me: "Jabba the Hut? Because that is what my sister said she was expecting. God--what is that woman saying about me?"
Brenda(nervous laughter, like "oh shit, I got Toni in trouble"): well, you look beautiful.
I left and went to check on my mom and sister and the twins, who were also visiting.
Me: "moooommmmm! what are telling people about me? Brenda said "you don't look that big." what are you saying??? And she said I look perfectly normal."
3. Insensitive people
Mom: "sweetie, she is just being kind."
Saturday, October 9, 2010
this card allows you 5 minutes bitching time....
I would like to take this opportunity to complain......
I remember the last time I felt normal, and I remember it because it was also the first time I started to feel not normal. It was the last week in February. I loaded up the van, drove to Austin, picked up lunch for Audrey, Annabelle and I, helped out with the twins, got groceries, made dinner, cleaned the kitchen, went for a walk, bathed Annabelle and put her to bed and watched tv with Audrey, did the 3:00 a.m. diaper changes and woke up a grumpy mama bear so she could nurse babies. But I felt tired. Now, after all of that, maybe I should have been tired. Except that I used to feel really good all of the time. I never had any aches or pains, no shivering rectum, no sneezing 50 times in a minute, no diarrhea after I eat Asian food. I used to wake up cheerful and went to bed the same way most days.
That was until I was pregnant. In my current delicate condition I have suffered from the following: Nausea, vomiting severe fatigue, bloating, heartburn, constipation, diarrhea, swollen extremities, joint aches, depression, malaise, back pain, reflux, sleeplessness, swollen lymph nodes, allergies, urinary incontinence, brittle nails, numbness in my fingers, irritability and the inability to get off the floor without grunting. My legs are unrecognizable--there is cellulite on my shins. I have stretch marks on top of my old stretch marks. My face looks like it has been stung by several Africanized bees and I have a spare chin. I now have cankles, my toes resemble Vienna Sausages and I haven't worn my wedding ring since April (let the record reflect that Hyphen's fingers are so chubby he hasn't been able to take his off for a few years). I can barely reach the sink to wash the dishes and Annabelle can no longer sit in my lap. The number on the scale has reached an unmentionable mark. My family is taking bets to see how long I will last and no one has put any money in November (my due date is 11/20) due to, as my dad put it "your healthy appearance."
[The record shall also reflect that if you use the phrase "your healthy appearance" to your very pregnant daughter, she will silently tell you to f!#* off and outwardly ask to talk to her mother.]
But since the card has only allowed me 5 minutes of bitching time, this is all I can say.
My baby is healthy. I am healthy. I am a healthy pregnant woman. And I am blessed.
I remember the last time I felt normal, and I remember it because it was also the first time I started to feel not normal. It was the last week in February. I loaded up the van, drove to Austin, picked up lunch for Audrey, Annabelle and I, helped out with the twins, got groceries, made dinner, cleaned the kitchen, went for a walk, bathed Annabelle and put her to bed and watched tv with Audrey, did the 3:00 a.m. diaper changes and woke up a grumpy mama bear so she could nurse babies. But I felt tired. Now, after all of that, maybe I should have been tired. Except that I used to feel really good all of the time. I never had any aches or pains, no shivering rectum, no sneezing 50 times in a minute, no diarrhea after I eat Asian food. I used to wake up cheerful and went to bed the same way most days.
That was until I was pregnant. In my current delicate condition I have suffered from the following: Nausea, vomiting severe fatigue, bloating, heartburn, constipation, diarrhea, swollen extremities, joint aches, depression, malaise, back pain, reflux, sleeplessness, swollen lymph nodes, allergies, urinary incontinence, brittle nails, numbness in my fingers, irritability and the inability to get off the floor without grunting. My legs are unrecognizable--there is cellulite on my shins. I have stretch marks on top of my old stretch marks. My face looks like it has been stung by several Africanized bees and I have a spare chin. I now have cankles, my toes resemble Vienna Sausages and I haven't worn my wedding ring since April (let the record reflect that Hyphen's fingers are so chubby he hasn't been able to take his off for a few years). I can barely reach the sink to wash the dishes and Annabelle can no longer sit in my lap. The number on the scale has reached an unmentionable mark. My family is taking bets to see how long I will last and no one has put any money in November (my due date is 11/20) due to, as my dad put it "your healthy appearance."
[The record shall also reflect that if you use the phrase "your healthy appearance" to your very pregnant daughter, she will silently tell you to f!#* off and outwardly ask to talk to her mother.]
But since the card has only allowed me 5 minutes of bitching time, this is all I can say.
My baby is healthy. I am healthy. I am a healthy pregnant woman. And I am blessed.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
the predator bear
this is an actual conversation that I just had with my mom less than an hour ago....
Mom: "oh, I was watching the news and they did a story on the predator bear."
Me: "what is that?"
Mom: "He is from Japan. He is a cartoon character but they also made him into one of those furry costumes people put on. And in Japan when girls take baths they all take them together in a house and they are naked and he followed them in and molested them. And now they are selling the costume here and he walks up to kids and takes pictures of them and it is terrible. And that is too bad because I love to give the Puffy Taco (mascot of the San Antonio minor league team) a hug.
Now what I should of said was "oh yes, that is too bad." But instead I thought, okay, "I'll put a quarter in and see where this goes"
Me: "I am confused. Does the bear molest these children?"
Mom: "yes"
Me: "but I thought he took pictures of them."
Mom: "he does"
Me: "does he sequester them and then molest them and take their pictures?"
Mom: "he gives them a hug and touches them."
Me: "over the clothes?"
Mom: Ay, I don't know, just keep annabelle away from all bears."
Me: "okay."
Now here are the options I am now considering
a. the news in San Antonio is terrible and reported on a story that was completely non-sensical.
Having seen the news in San Antonio recently, I put this option at about 35 percent.
b. My mom was only paying half attention to the story and got things mixed up.
Having had a 36 year relationship with this woman, I put this option at about 60 percent.
c. The third option is something Hyphen suggested when I repeated this story to him--My mom is smoking pot.
I put this at 5 percent, but only because she is from that time, however it should be lower, because the only thing even remotely naughty that she did was get so drunk one Saturday night that she was still drunk the next morning when her sister and her brother in law came to pick her up for mass.
At least that I know about....
Mom: "oh, I was watching the news and they did a story on the predator bear."
Me: "what is that?"
Mom: "He is from Japan. He is a cartoon character but they also made him into one of those furry costumes people put on. And in Japan when girls take baths they all take them together in a house and they are naked and he followed them in and molested them. And now they are selling the costume here and he walks up to kids and takes pictures of them and it is terrible. And that is too bad because I love to give the Puffy Taco (mascot of the San Antonio minor league team) a hug.
Now what I should of said was "oh yes, that is too bad." But instead I thought, okay, "I'll put a quarter in and see where this goes"
Me: "I am confused. Does the bear molest these children?"
Mom: "yes"
Me: "but I thought he took pictures of them."
Mom: "he does"
Me: "does he sequester them and then molest them and take their pictures?"
Mom: "he gives them a hug and touches them."
Me: "over the clothes?"
Mom: Ay, I don't know, just keep annabelle away from all bears."
Me: "okay."
Now here are the options I am now considering
a. the news in San Antonio is terrible and reported on a story that was completely non-sensical.
Having seen the news in San Antonio recently, I put this option at about 35 percent.
b. My mom was only paying half attention to the story and got things mixed up.
Having had a 36 year relationship with this woman, I put this option at about 60 percent.
c. The third option is something Hyphen suggested when I repeated this story to him--My mom is smoking pot.
I put this at 5 percent, but only because she is from that time, however it should be lower, because the only thing even remotely naughty that she did was get so drunk one Saturday night that she was still drunk the next morning when her sister and her brother in law came to pick her up for mass.
At least that I know about....
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