Monday, January 30, 2006

Bored with Blogging

To be clear, I am not at a loss for stories, it is quite the opposite. Oh flavorful life, how will I recreate you for my readers? Shall I drag my feet and write nothing? WIll I admit I am officially bored with this pregnancy wishing I could write about other things but too lazy to change the layout of my pregnancy-centered home page? I thought I could be a blogger but I cannot. I'm bored. I don't feel like telling the story. I suck. 2 old friends just added me over the weekend and I miss them both.

I'm sure I'll be back.......

Tuesday, January 24, 2006

Where I want to Be

Looking at the picutes of my sweet little alien in utero, reading the mix reviews from friends that are excited for her to come or that call her the ugliest thing ever all I can think is that she looks so comfortable. I want to be where she is. Where she cannot hear if people are calling her ugly and she does not know how much mommy hates being at work right now.

At the sneak a peek baby monitering station this weekend we had these 3-D pictures taken. Dan was so excited to see her. To me she does not have a face. She is movements and squirming and an idea I have. So that I uttered, "Oh my god, she has a face" when they pulled up the first image.

To be continued...

Sunday, January 22, 2006

The ACE and the Asian Hair Delight

This Saturday, while out running errands, I convinced Dan he would only need to browse the aisle of ACE Hardware for a maximum 10 minutes while I ran over to my Asian Nail Delight nail salon to get my eyebrows waxed.

it from the office, is the chance that I get my eyebrows waxed on a weekend with Dan in tow. But, as always I had let them get to the point where I was embarrassed to be seen with two half eaten caterpillars molting on my face. That point in time was two weeks ago. With the impending evacuation of Cohen ever closer to us, I attempted to save some cash by taking out my magnifying mirror and returning to the college days of tweezing my own brows.

Just as in college, the result was two totally different shaped brows. They looked related, same texture, both thin, but in no way identical, as they had been. So, Saturday I returned to the nail shop for my wax.

The lady that waxes me is the one that told me I was no pregnant the last time I thought I was pregnant. She was right. When I did get pregnant, soon after, I told her and she did not believe me for months. Now, at 7 ½ months she inquires about my comfort and never gives me a hard time for letting my overgrown eyebrows get so bad.

I laid down on the table and just closed my eyes while she went to work. Any woman who gets waxed knows the difference between a normal “it’s been two weeks” visit and the dreaded “Sorry I haven’t been in for over three weeks” visit. There is tweezing, waxing above and below the brow. Wax is being used in such excess she has to get some on my lid, but I know she won’t fasten the paper to the wax on my lid. Then I feel her fasten the paper to my lid. I had that coming, I shouldn’t have let this go for so long. More tweezing, pinching, waxing, all the time I keep my eyes closed and enjoy the smell of her peppermint gum scent mixing with her light floral perfume. She does the landing strip between my eyes, a few last tweezes, and I recognize this part of the routine to signify that we are done.

But then, just before I can open my eyes I feel two hairs quickly plucked from my chin!! I open my eyes and she hands me the mirror. I say “Thank you?” and she nods. As she is walking out of the room I ask, “Well were they the little black chin hairs or the long crazy white ones?” She lets a small giggle escape and does not answer.

Inside ACE I find Dan looking at fire extinguishers, already quite upset that we don’t “own one of these”. I know the price for having Dan in ACE while I get waxed is usually going to cost us between $15-$30. He selects a $15 fire extinguisher, but I already know he’ll put it back when he sees how long the line is. And he does.

Thursday, January 19, 2006

Tips on Crack

Conversation with my Jewish Mother who smoked crack during her pregnancy, had the kid 3 months premature as a result, and just bought him a plasma screen tv for his 18th birthday.

Lawton: So I have PUPPS, which essentially means I am allergic to my own placenta.

JM: Oh my god, so what does that mean?

L: That means that I am such an irritating person I am allergic to myself.

JM: Well don't scratch, listen, anyway, do you want me to book a 4 day 3 night vacation for you and me and the baby when I come to visit you (a month after I have the kid, by the way!!).

L: Um yeah, sure, just do it on a weekend so Dan can come.

JM: Alright, so just drink some green tea or chamomile for that rash so your not gross when I get there.

L: I can't drink chamomile or green tea while pregnant.

JM: Really? huh. Then just drink Matte.

Now, for someone who smoked crack her whole pregnancy I can see how her doctor may have recommended she take it down a few notches to matte or green tea, but in the long run I am only afraid that I ever let her book her trip out here so close to the trip my baby has booked out of me.

Friday, January 13, 2006

The 7 Month Itch

I was hesitant to believe that any solace could be found in the second trimester of this pregnancy, and then I hit my stride. I could eat everything again and no longer feared salsa and onions, as I had in the first trimester. I lost 7 pounds while the baby continued to grow and stay healthy. I got the glow. The rosy cheeks. I wanted sex again, and when I got it, it was as if the hormone gods were rewarding me for the first four months of constant vomiting with what has been 3 straight months of some of the best orgasms of my life. I have come more in my sleep these past 3 months than I have in entire past relationships. I became obviously pregnant, and no longer felt fat, but like a radiant life force. I got enough energy to not only get into work, but to get good at my job again. Notice, this is all written in past tense.

Not one week into the third trimester my ass and thighs, my upper arms, my belly have all ballooned bigger than I could have imagined I would ever get. The XL maternity clothes I bought two months ago (thinking I would grow into them) I over grew, and never even got to wear them. My skin is dry and needy it requires constant moisturizer and exfoliation, which ends in no relief. I can still eat whatever I want, but I have had to stop as I am finding it increasingly difficult to lift my own huge ass in and out of my Explorer. While I can still have sex, and I am lucky enough to have a husband that will sleep with me, it's getting a little weird. The last time I was on top, we finished, and my belly was resting on Dan's when the baby kicked hard enough for Dan to feel it, as if to say, "Why'd you guys stop, you're not going to save any money on my future therapy at this point."

But most of all, the worst part, is the itch. This is one motherfucker of an itch, and I say that now as the mother getting fucked here. I have an itch on my ankles, thighs, and arms that no one can fix for me. There are no welts, no marks, and no trace of why it came or how to get it to leave. My doctor says it is an unavoidable part of pregnancy, my friends say it is stretch marks making themselves know, Dan says it's dry skin. How can I explain this? I stand in the shower at night with the water as hot as I can get it in order to scald the itch and then I just cry. Last night I went to bed at 11:00 p.m. Couldn't sleep because of the itch on my thighs. Went to the bathroom to cover my upper legs in calodryl lotion then out to the couch at 11:51 p.m. I sat there until I drifted off at 12:30a.m. I woke up at 2:30 a.m. scratching the shit out of my ankles and calves in my sleep. My legs were again bleeding. I went to the bathroom, slathered on more calodryl and slept until 6:00 a.m. At 7:00 a.m. I fell back asleep and didn't wake until 10:30 - having had the most fitful dreams of missing a whole day of work. I took a hot shower to wash of all of the calodryl and went to work. This is the kind of itch that will make you cut your wrists. That being said...

I also wobble when I walk a little now. I don't mind it as much as other people seem to notice and point it out to me. "Well aren't you getting big! Just look at the way you're walking!"

People begin to look at you differently when they can tell for sure that there is a baby inside of you. It's like when Tom and Jerry were stranded on an island and in his starvation Tom would look at Jerry and Jerry would turn into a big juicy turkey. It is with that same desire complete strangers ogle my belly. It is not that they merely want to touch it, I watch as they use all of their possible body language to express to me their need to touch my belly. As if I would offer. First of all, the kid doesn't move enough for there to be any reason for anyone other than Dan to touch my belly. There is no function to the act. However, I will let friends and family touch me, as if they could be stopped, if only to try to trick them into scratching some part of my body in exchange for letting them rub my belly. I'm like a pregnant version of Buddha, you rub my belly and I will tell you your fortune. You are fortunate enough to get to help scratch my itch. Ta-da! I don't actually need help. I have super strong pregnancy finger nails. I actually tore the upholstery in our truck today with my thumbnail that's like a phalange super power. But if I had that, it would only take me giving one finger to this rash to make it go away.

Tuesday, January 10, 2006

The Pearl Necklace

Dan's brother's girlfriend entered a conversation I was having with two other mothers to explain that breastfeading in public, covered or not, is exactly the same as public masturbation. Unbeknownst to her that this would have any impact on our visiting them in New York after having this baby. In all fairness this girl's approach to pregnancy is shared with my brother in law, Jeff. While the four of us, Jeff, Lauren, Dan and myself were sitting up late in the living room one night, Lauren expressed the grossness of pregnancy that bothered her. Pooping on the table was a big concern. I asked Dan to remember when that was my concern, because it ceratinly is no longer.

This pregnancy already has rendered me so far from humility, embarassment has truly fallen to the wayside. But, to be the bigger person - by some act other than biologically - I opened the baby bible we were reading to the page with the dialated cervix chart on it and handed it to Lauren as if to state, "Once you begin to worry about this, you don't care who shits on your table". Lauren gasped at the 10 cm hole and I was delighted. But then Jeff pipes in and says, "It's not that bad babe, look..." and making a fist he puts his knuckles against the page to show how it's reasonably just large enough to get his fist in. Later Dan wondered if Jeff understood that was the cervix not the vagina, and I came to a great understanding about how this girl keeps getting $2500.00 jewelry for the holidays.