I stayed home from work on Wednesday. Not because I was feeling particularly sick, mostly just because I felt OWED a sick day. Allow me to explain. I SHOULD have stayed home on Tuesday. Tuesday was a miserable, miserable day for yours truly.
It started Monday night. The pressure in my sinuses expanding, the nasaly drip down the back of my throat, the constant need to sneeze but then not being able to. Even under normal sleeping circumstances, this sinus condition would've made sleeping a challenge. I woke up tired, angry, weepy and stuffy (pregnancy hormones - they're a bitch!) So Tuesday morning started out bad. I knew it. Daniel knew it. He suggested I stay home. I told him he's not the boss of me and tearfully, resentfully, with a head full of pounding snot, got ready for work.
I got to the office late and plodded through reflected ceiling plans whilst nearly constantly blowing my nose (which was also making me wee) and feeling like a large, tired, slow-moving land mass with sinuses from a hell dimension. I made myself stay there the entire day because I'm stubborn (and stupid) like that. Finally went home. Ate chicken noodle soup. Met very briefly (thank god) with a doula candidate (more on that later) and went to bed early.
Without having taken any kind of medication whatsoever, I woke up (or rather Daniel woke me up) Wednesday morning with a clear head and a clean emotional slate.
But I stayed home anyway because I was mad that I didn't stay home the previous day when I SHOULD have. I know, my idiotic rationale kinda makes my head spin as well.
It was such a lovely "sick" day. I slept in and then had ice cream for breakfast. I played computer games. Talked to my sister. Cleaned the house (the "nesting instinct" is kicking in big time!). Put dinner in the crock pot. Took a nap. Took a bubble bath. It was one of the best sick days I've ever had and totally worth my miserable Tuesday.
9.09.2010
9.02.2010
Please Pass the Maternity Pants
Up until two weeks ago, my pants had all been rigged to stay on my ass and over my growing girth by means of rubber bands and one of those stretchy tube top thingys. I was totally in the McGuyver zone. But rubber bands only stretch so far. And pants that are completely unzipped and unbuttoned, being held in place by a thin tube top, is a situation just begging for a public wardrobe malfunction.
So, two weekends ago I finally broke down, after Daniel threatened to go buy me maternity pants himself, went to a maternity store and purchased three pairs.
First of all, I kind of hate going into "specialty" stores like that because the store clerk to customer ratio is always way off and I hate being fussed over. Alas, there was only one other shopper in the store when I arrived and she quickly departed leaving me with three helpful, smiling sales associates ready to take measurements, ask questions, and load up a dressing room for me. Oy.
And then I tried on my first pair of maternity pants and my life changed forever.
Dear god why are pants made ANY other way!?
Okay so maybe maternity pants aren't the most fashionable clothing item, but they are so wonderfully, so monumentally, so accutely comfortable, I'm tearing up with love and gratitude even as I type this.
When I went to work that week rocking out my inner Ed Grimley in my new maternity pants, I gushed like a tween with a crush to one of my female co-workers on my extraordinary new pants. She said, "you know those green pants I wear?" In fact, I did know those green pants she wears because everytime she wears them I comment on how cute they are. She leaned in and whispered, "those are maternity pants." Her youngest child is like four.
My future suddenly seemed brighter. You mean I could continue wearing these glorious pants even AFTER I give birth!? Hell. Yeah.
The world would be a happier place if everyone just wore maternity pants. Seriously.
So, two weekends ago I finally broke down, after Daniel threatened to go buy me maternity pants himself, went to a maternity store and purchased three pairs.
First of all, I kind of hate going into "specialty" stores like that because the store clerk to customer ratio is always way off and I hate being fussed over. Alas, there was only one other shopper in the store when I arrived and she quickly departed leaving me with three helpful, smiling sales associates ready to take measurements, ask questions, and load up a dressing room for me. Oy.
And then I tried on my first pair of maternity pants and my life changed forever.
Dear god why are pants made ANY other way!?
Okay so maybe maternity pants aren't the most fashionable clothing item, but they are so wonderfully, so monumentally, so accutely comfortable, I'm tearing up with love and gratitude even as I type this.
When I went to work that week rocking out my inner Ed Grimley in my new maternity pants, I gushed like a tween with a crush to one of my female co-workers on my extraordinary new pants. She said, "you know those green pants I wear?" In fact, I did know those green pants she wears because everytime she wears them I comment on how cute they are. She leaned in and whispered, "those are maternity pants." Her youngest child is like four.
My future suddenly seemed brighter. You mean I could continue wearing these glorious pants even AFTER I give birth!? Hell. Yeah.
The world would be a happier place if everyone just wore maternity pants. Seriously.
8.02.2010
Hello, It's Me Again
It’s still hot as hell here which makes being outside, in any capacity (except perhaps in a pool), extremely unpleasant. The air is so thick and heavy it feels like I’m breathing in pudding when I step outside. The heat and humidity, however, seem to not bother the mosquitoes at all. They are quite happy to suck my blood every chance they get. Daniel and I keep proclaiming we need to invest in a dozen or so bat boxes to put up in our backyard. Anybody know how to encourage bats to hang out around your house? How does one effectively advertise an all-you-can-eat mosquito buffet?
So, I’m still pregnant. Yup.
Over the past two weeks, the heartburn has really ramped up and become unbearable at night, or anytime I am horizontal. I’m chugging the Mylanta like a victim of desert dehydration. Between the multiple midnight Mylanta cocktails, the frequent peeing, and the uncomfortable tossing and turning stemming from my irrational fear of sleeping on my back, my nights are full of crappy-ass, barely what you could call, sleep. Hence, my weekday mornings have become downright brutal.
Right now I am longing for a job where I can just do mindless busy work all day and not have to think or interact with anyone. Is there such a job? As it stands, I am immersed in full-time construction administration for the hospital-at-the-beach I helped design. Under normal circumstances, I would still dislike construction administration – because, honestly, what kind of designer actually CARES how the fuck the building goes together? – but, I would be begrudgingly grateful for the experience. A lot of architecture firms hire people specifically to deal with CA and the designers never get to see how their drawings are translated. So, it’s great to have the opportunity, I just don’t want it right now when I’m tired and grumpy and functioning with a lower brain cell capacity.
I am totally being bitch-slapped for every mean thing I’ve ever thought about pregnant women!
On the bright side, I’m still throwing up occasionally, but NOT every time I brush my teeth! Hooray!
And hey, it’s not ALL bad. Sunday morning, while lying in bed getting some extra crappy-ass “sleep”, Gwennie performed her morning ritual of climbing on top of my body and kneading me to death. I understand this behavior is some sort of neurotic cat thing and I am usually very patient and tolerant of her kneading even when she leaves bruises on my hips, but Sunday morning I was Not. Having. It. Gwendolyn, however, has no understanding of the meaning “not having it”. Any effort to remove her was met with digging in her claws, holding on for dear life, and fussing at me very loudly. And that’s when I felt a distinct kick in the vicinity of my upper right stomach. Gwennie whined some more and there it was again. KICK! I looked down and could SEE my stomach being kicked from the inside.
Okay, I agree that’s totally gross and creepy and freaky, but it was also REALLY cool. Like, seriously cool.
I don’t know if the spawn was also annoyed at Gwennie’s kneading or if he was responding to her vocals, or if he was just spazzing out for no reason at all. Up until Sunday, his movements have felt very vague, kind of like flutterings or soft poppings to the point where I’m like, “okay was that the spawn or was that just gas from the Taco Bell I ate?”
So, yeah. Cool.
The nursery is also coming along. The walls have been repaired and sanded and primed, and yesterday Daniel finished putting on the first coat of color. It’s a dark gray that sometimes seems to have a very slight blue tinge to it in different light, and it is AWESOME. Seriously y’all. It looks so good with all the white trim in that room and the light hardwood floors.
Sometimes it is so very apparent that Daniel and I work with oppositely minded groups of people. When I told my co-workers that we intended to paint the nursery dark gray, they were all like, “Oh that’ll be cool. It’ll be such a vibrant contrast to the white trim and built-ins. It’ll really give the room some depth.” While my co-workers approved and applauded the color choice, Daniel’s co-workers openly expressed their dismay: “Oh nooooo! You can’t have a dark, dingy color like that for a little baby. They need soft, light colors!” Numbers geeks have no aesthetic vision.
On the non-pregnancy front: Last week I wrapped up a 6-week creative writing workshop. I’m still kind of sad that it’s over because it was so much fun. Fortunately my fellow creative writers in the group feel the same way and we have committed to continuing to meet regularly. The workshop was offered by a writer who lives in my neighborhood. She also teaches creative writing at a local college, does freelance work and has published a collection of short stories. In addition to her awesomeness, there were three other women in my group: one in her mid-twenties, one in her early thirties, and one in her early fifties. And they all live in my neighborhood and are liberal-minded, easy-going, educated, non-religious, and really fun. I’ve preemptively started thinking of them as my new friends. Yes I know, I’m a desperate little wad of pathetic-ness. But that fact does not diminish my eagerness to hang out with them again next week.
And on Friday, most members of my lackadaisical book club finally managed to pull it together and meet for a full 2.5 hours of happy and discussion. Ages ago we all read The Red Tent, which was a really good book. It reminded me of The Mists of Avalon, which is one of my most favorite books of all time, in that it took a very well known male centered mythology and spun it around to recreate it from the females’ unique point of view. It wasn’t as EPIC as The Mists of Avalon, but it brought in some of the same elements – that of a patriarchal religion essentially crushing an older matriarchal religion, and the power present within a strictly female culture. I read it in, like, two nights because I couldn’t put it down, so it was nice to hear everyone’s different take on it. And it was fun just to catch up with everybody and relax after another agonizingly long work week.
Our book for our next meeting (allegedly in a month) is called The Help. I had not heard of it. Anybody read it?
Also, I am STILL trying to get through the Harry Potter books before the first installment of the last book comes out on film in November. Me thinks this is probably not going to happen since I have been stuck in the 4th book FOR-EH-VER. The first three flew by for me, but there’s something about this 4th one that has me stuck. It is seeming to take a really long time to get to the meat of the story and I’m dragging my feet getting into it. I enjoyed this movie, but the book just seems to start out with all this extraneous and belabored detail that has me falling asleep every time I try to dive into it. I’m not giving up though.
Meanwhile, you can find me eating potatoes and pickles, NOT sleeping, and anticipating more kicks from the inside.
Peace out! (I can’t pull that off, can I? Didn’t think so.)
So, I’m still pregnant. Yup.
Over the past two weeks, the heartburn has really ramped up and become unbearable at night, or anytime I am horizontal. I’m chugging the Mylanta like a victim of desert dehydration. Between the multiple midnight Mylanta cocktails, the frequent peeing, and the uncomfortable tossing and turning stemming from my irrational fear of sleeping on my back, my nights are full of crappy-ass, barely what you could call, sleep. Hence, my weekday mornings have become downright brutal.
Right now I am longing for a job where I can just do mindless busy work all day and not have to think or interact with anyone. Is there such a job? As it stands, I am immersed in full-time construction administration for the hospital-at-the-beach I helped design. Under normal circumstances, I would still dislike construction administration – because, honestly, what kind of designer actually CARES how the fuck the building goes together? – but, I would be begrudgingly grateful for the experience. A lot of architecture firms hire people specifically to deal with CA and the designers never get to see how their drawings are translated. So, it’s great to have the opportunity, I just don’t want it right now when I’m tired and grumpy and functioning with a lower brain cell capacity.
I am totally being bitch-slapped for every mean thing I’ve ever thought about pregnant women!
On the bright side, I’m still throwing up occasionally, but NOT every time I brush my teeth! Hooray!
And hey, it’s not ALL bad. Sunday morning, while lying in bed getting some extra crappy-ass “sleep”, Gwennie performed her morning ritual of climbing on top of my body and kneading me to death. I understand this behavior is some sort of neurotic cat thing and I am usually very patient and tolerant of her kneading even when she leaves bruises on my hips, but Sunday morning I was Not. Having. It. Gwendolyn, however, has no understanding of the meaning “not having it”. Any effort to remove her was met with digging in her claws, holding on for dear life, and fussing at me very loudly. And that’s when I felt a distinct kick in the vicinity of my upper right stomach. Gwennie whined some more and there it was again. KICK! I looked down and could SEE my stomach being kicked from the inside.
Okay, I agree that’s totally gross and creepy and freaky, but it was also REALLY cool. Like, seriously cool.
I don’t know if the spawn was also annoyed at Gwennie’s kneading or if he was responding to her vocals, or if he was just spazzing out for no reason at all. Up until Sunday, his movements have felt very vague, kind of like flutterings or soft poppings to the point where I’m like, “okay was that the spawn or was that just gas from the Taco Bell I ate?”
So, yeah. Cool.
The nursery is also coming along. The walls have been repaired and sanded and primed, and yesterday Daniel finished putting on the first coat of color. It’s a dark gray that sometimes seems to have a very slight blue tinge to it in different light, and it is AWESOME. Seriously y’all. It looks so good with all the white trim in that room and the light hardwood floors.
Sometimes it is so very apparent that Daniel and I work with oppositely minded groups of people. When I told my co-workers that we intended to paint the nursery dark gray, they were all like, “Oh that’ll be cool. It’ll be such a vibrant contrast to the white trim and built-ins. It’ll really give the room some depth.” While my co-workers approved and applauded the color choice, Daniel’s co-workers openly expressed their dismay: “Oh nooooo! You can’t have a dark, dingy color like that for a little baby. They need soft, light colors!” Numbers geeks have no aesthetic vision.
On the non-pregnancy front: Last week I wrapped up a 6-week creative writing workshop. I’m still kind of sad that it’s over because it was so much fun. Fortunately my fellow creative writers in the group feel the same way and we have committed to continuing to meet regularly. The workshop was offered by a writer who lives in my neighborhood. She also teaches creative writing at a local college, does freelance work and has published a collection of short stories. In addition to her awesomeness, there were three other women in my group: one in her mid-twenties, one in her early thirties, and one in her early fifties. And they all live in my neighborhood and are liberal-minded, easy-going, educated, non-religious, and really fun. I’ve preemptively started thinking of them as my new friends. Yes I know, I’m a desperate little wad of pathetic-ness. But that fact does not diminish my eagerness to hang out with them again next week.
And on Friday, most members of my lackadaisical book club finally managed to pull it together and meet for a full 2.5 hours of happy and discussion. Ages ago we all read The Red Tent, which was a really good book. It reminded me of The Mists of Avalon, which is one of my most favorite books of all time, in that it took a very well known male centered mythology and spun it around to recreate it from the females’ unique point of view. It wasn’t as EPIC as The Mists of Avalon, but it brought in some of the same elements – that of a patriarchal religion essentially crushing an older matriarchal religion, and the power present within a strictly female culture. I read it in, like, two nights because I couldn’t put it down, so it was nice to hear everyone’s different take on it. And it was fun just to catch up with everybody and relax after another agonizingly long work week.
Our book for our next meeting (allegedly in a month) is called The Help. I had not heard of it. Anybody read it?
Also, I am STILL trying to get through the Harry Potter books before the first installment of the last book comes out on film in November. Me thinks this is probably not going to happen since I have been stuck in the 4th book FOR-EH-VER. The first three flew by for me, but there’s something about this 4th one that has me stuck. It is seeming to take a really long time to get to the meat of the story and I’m dragging my feet getting into it. I enjoyed this movie, but the book just seems to start out with all this extraneous and belabored detail that has me falling asleep every time I try to dive into it. I’m not giving up though.
Meanwhile, you can find me eating potatoes and pickles, NOT sleeping, and anticipating more kicks from the inside.
Peace out! (I can’t pull that off, can I? Didn’t think so.)
7.14.2010
Oh Boy
Yesterday I had my 20 week diagnostic ultrasound.
It's a boy!
And he's already being an uncooperative little booger! He was in a weird position that was frustrating the technician. She got most of the information she needed and our doctor said everything looks good, but now we have to get an additional ultrasound in another three weeks to pick up the images we couldn't get this time around.
I've gained 6 pounds so far and have another 4 months to go. My doctor told us she's keeping my due date for December 1st, but wants to keep a close eye on the baby's growth as she may want to induce labor sooner if he gets too big. Apparently, 10 oz. is average at this stage and our son (according to the ultrasound measurements) is 14 oz. The doctor took one look at Daniel and chastised me for marrying a square-headed giant!
I have to admit it was really a shock to be told (and shown) that our baby is a boy when we were both utterly convinced it was a girl. Up until yesterday I had visions of buying adorable little girl clothes, hearing the squeaky little girl voice, showing her all the things my sister and I liked to do when we were little girls.
With a boy I am completely out of my element. It's going to be interesting!
It's a boy!
And he's already being an uncooperative little booger! He was in a weird position that was frustrating the technician. She got most of the information she needed and our doctor said everything looks good, but now we have to get an additional ultrasound in another three weeks to pick up the images we couldn't get this time around.
I've gained 6 pounds so far and have another 4 months to go. My doctor told us she's keeping my due date for December 1st, but wants to keep a close eye on the baby's growth as she may want to induce labor sooner if he gets too big. Apparently, 10 oz. is average at this stage and our son (according to the ultrasound measurements) is 14 oz. The doctor took one look at Daniel and chastised me for marrying a square-headed giant!
I have to admit it was really a shock to be told (and shown) that our baby is a boy when we were both utterly convinced it was a girl. Up until yesterday I had visions of buying adorable little girl clothes, hearing the squeaky little girl voice, showing her all the things my sister and I liked to do when we were little girls.
With a boy I am completely out of my element. It's going to be interesting!
7.10.2010
A few weeks ago my sister and I were talking on the phone about religion, and Christianity in particular, since she recently started going to a Lutheran church in her neighborhood. Midway through our dialogue, she suddenly asked me, "why are you so angry?" And I was a little taken aback by her question.
Ironically, I think living in the so-called Bible Belt for the past four and half years, has really hardened me against religion and Christianity in particular.
Let me say this: I love religious mythologies and rituals. I really do. And I find the stories and beliefs of all religions to be fascinating. I also firmly embrace our country's freedom to practice religion - ANY religion - even if I, personally, think it's all hooey. It's called Liberty, and it's a good thing.
The problem is, the most vocal Christians down here (and I say "most vocal" because obviously there are some really wonderful people here as well who subscribe to Christianity), are so incredibly intolerant of any deviation from their personal beliefs, it's astounding...and infuriating.
You may remember this post I wrote about the Secular Life organization here in Nashville and the heat they took over the completely innocuous and inoffensive bulletin board promoting their social organization.
This brand of aggressive, hostile Christianity seems to penetrate every aspect of life down here and was completely foreign to me for the most part before moving here.
On July 14th, in a college town about 30 minutes south of Nashville, the Christians are gathering together in, basically, a hate rally against the construction of a mosque. Here's the initial outcry. And details on the protest. Make sure you read the comments on this one - some real doozies both by Christians and Muslims alike.
While I don't think Islamic beliefs are any more significant or valid than Christian beliefs, they ARE allowed to worship here in peace. It's in the Constitution.
So while it may seem as though I am mad as hell at religion, I'm just frustrated by the hostility, prejudice, and downright meanness of the religious atmosphere that permeates this region.
On a bright note, I've heard there is a counter-protest being organized to protest the, uh, protesters.
Ironically, I think living in the so-called Bible Belt for the past four and half years, has really hardened me against religion and Christianity in particular.
Let me say this: I love religious mythologies and rituals. I really do. And I find the stories and beliefs of all religions to be fascinating. I also firmly embrace our country's freedom to practice religion - ANY religion - even if I, personally, think it's all hooey. It's called Liberty, and it's a good thing.
The problem is, the most vocal Christians down here (and I say "most vocal" because obviously there are some really wonderful people here as well who subscribe to Christianity), are so incredibly intolerant of any deviation from their personal beliefs, it's astounding...and infuriating.
You may remember this post I wrote about the Secular Life organization here in Nashville and the heat they took over the completely innocuous and inoffensive bulletin board promoting their social organization.
This brand of aggressive, hostile Christianity seems to penetrate every aspect of life down here and was completely foreign to me for the most part before moving here.
On July 14th, in a college town about 30 minutes south of Nashville, the Christians are gathering together in, basically, a hate rally against the construction of a mosque. Here's the initial outcry. And details on the protest. Make sure you read the comments on this one - some real doozies both by Christians and Muslims alike.
While I don't think Islamic beliefs are any more significant or valid than Christian beliefs, they ARE allowed to worship here in peace. It's in the Constitution.
So while it may seem as though I am mad as hell at religion, I'm just frustrated by the hostility, prejudice, and downright meanness of the religious atmosphere that permeates this region.
On a bright note, I've heard there is a counter-protest being organized to protest the, uh, protesters.
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