Archive for December, 2009
I would like to preempt with telling you that we are trying to go au naturel with this birth. We are in the process of researching which method we would like to use…leaning toward the Bradley Method, but really I just want to get through the shit without dying.
Positive thoughts.
So, onto the things I learned last night:
1. I am self absorbed. The teacher said so in class. She said all pregnant women are and that it is part of the process of being pregnant. You too have an excuse now.
2. I have trouble focusing when there are 9 other pregnant women sitting around me. At the end of class we did a relaxation, breathing technique where we (please read in a soft, light and airy voice as my lamaze teacher did) leaned back on our partner, relaxed, breathed in, breathed out. Imagined our baby.
But, all I could think about is how I was crushing Steve and how his back might be hurting. And my eyes were supposed to be closed but I had to check to see if everyone else was crushing their partner. And no, they were not. They were sitting up, not leaning on their partner. Maybe they have intimacy issues. Maybe I just take too much. Maybe I should have sat up.
And then there was this Bosnian couple next to us with a super cute accent. It was really funny because when we were (soft, slow voice again) going into our relaxation technique and the teacher’s voice softened and we were all relaxing, he yelled, “I can’t hear you.” And then when we were imagining our baby and we were imagining our baby’s hair color, his wife yelled, “It’s red. Her hair’s red like mine.”
3. There is no scientific evidence of why we go into labor which I find to be very interesting. Steve and I came up with two reasons why this might be. I leave you to decide for yourself.
4. I need to do my kegels because as my teacher said, her biggest pet peeve is those commercials where the lady is dancing around and pee is falling out of her and flying everywhere and she needs to get on drugs to control her uncontrolled pee. (Imagine teacher twirling and dancing around making motions with her hand to indicate pee coming out.) If only she would have done her kegels.
5. I am like an elementary school girl when I get around a group of people in a classroom setting. We walked out of the class and the first thing I asked Steve was, “Who do you think we would be friends with?” And he looked at me like I was crazy. But, he did have an answer, after much pressing, that is.
And I immaturely compared my belly to the other pregos. I think mine was the biggest. We were all due right around the same time too, so there really is no reason I should be the biggest.
So, anyway, that’s what I learned, peeps. It was pretty cool. Only five more, three hour classes. After a tough day of constipation and ranting on and on about it to Steve like a little baby child that could not stop talking about her poo, Steve finally had to put his foot down and say stop talking about your poo. Which made me a little sad and upset, but I stopped and then came to my pregnant brain senses and realized he was right. It is not necessary for me to talk about everything going on in my body. But, then I just got a phone call from the doc saying that I am not diabetic, but that I am anemic and I have to take iron. And unless I want to eat a lot of liver (which pregos are not supposed to have anyway), I must take iron pills.
Which make you constipated.
No more poo talk, I promise.
I would however like to hear your poo stories. Because although most people don’t like to talk or hear about poo, I do. Also, I would like to hear how you are planning to handle or did handle your natural birth. Or your drug induced birth, because I think they are both difficult.
December 30, 2009
Cookie Counter (Today, 9:09 a.m.): 3 (Today, 12:45 p.m.): 4 (Today, 8:07 p.m.): 5
And to make it funnier/more pathetic, we ran out of gifted cookies yesterday, so I made the “Worlds Best” jar of cookies that we received as a present. The world would end without Christmas cookies right now and until the end of this pregnancy. No, really New Year’s resolution: exercise and eat less Christmas cookies and prepare for labor & delivery. Looks like I have 29 more cookies to eat before the week’s up. No problemo.
Here I am, Christmas time, the seven month stretch. My ma is taking bets that those pants will not fit ’til the very end. I beg to differ, especially with my New Year’s resolution coming into place, since I have such will power these days…not.
Today’s blog post is brought to you by this song by Bob Dylan. Please feel free to play the song while you read the post.
I was thinking about doing a post on split families around the holidays. How hard it can be for everyone. As I type, I am trying to decide if the animosity I have built up might be able to be hidden or tidied up a bit. I could just make it short and sweet and say to all who “suffer” from split family syndrome around the holidays to move on and enjoy the time that you get with your loved ones. As little as it may be, or unfair as it may seem, we as the hostages of this over-traveled time of the year put on our snow boots, and show up with a smile, to all of the family gatherings. Are these family gatherings fun for us? Yes, for the most part.
Quite honestly, the fun is ruined and feelings are hurt when we have to leave early. When one side has to cut the other side short to go see the other side of the family. And comments are made about equality and sharing and fairness.
Bite your tongues because we already feel bad enough.
I realize that we all love one another so much that we want to have our brother, our sister, our son, our daughter around for as long as we can, but you have to let it go. It only makes it harder and worse and makes us resent situations more when loved ones complain about the time they get to spend with us.
Honestly, we do our best to make it fair and even. Things change when folks get married (+1 family, +2 if spouse is from a divorced family). Things change when parents divorce. We as the children of the divorcees do what we can to make the transition as easy on everyone as possible, but we need help and understanding from all angles.
So, I leave you with a cup of coffee. I am so sorry if you do not have a table for a belly belly for a table, like mine. Leave me alone, it’s decaf.
But really, how do you handle your holidays? How is it hard for you and how have you made it work? How have you gotten troubled family members to understand the predicament you are in around the holidays?
December 28, 2009
Here at Deliciousness and Poopiness, I would like to introduce a new section called Is it Because I’m Pregnant? So many seemingly blameable preg-instances have happened lately that I feel the need to present some of them to a non-biased audience . So, please, by all means, you be the judge:
Yesterday, while Steve was home for lunch, I had to use the bathroom for the twelfth time, mid-conversation. It was a typical, worthless number one bathroom visit as most of them are during this pregnancy, “Oh my GOD I am going to pee my pants if I don’t get to the bathroom stat!” And then I sit, looking forward to the relief of what feels like should be gallons of pee, only to drip drip. What an emergency.
Afterward, I sat at the table having a very grown up conversation with Steve while he ate his lunch. When I stood, I adjusted my pants as I habitually do during this pregnancy due to my stomach : ass ratio. And what to my wondering eyes hand did appear – used toilet paper hanging out of my pants. You might say that this could happen to anyone, pregnant or not. But, I would like to present to you evidence that it is because I am pregnant. Firstly, it is something that has never happened before while I wasn’t pregnant. Second, I’m all off and wonky and things are out of wack and just different everywhere. And that is why I really think it begs the question: Is It Because I’m Pregnant?
December 17, 2009
I got this email yesterday that looked a little spammy so I didn’t bother to open it. Then I was sitting here at the breakfast table with my fully cooked eggs in the basket and my cup of decaf (more on that later) and skimmed past the email, making note that it had Granny in the subject line and I do love anything granny. Granny style, my granny, granny glasses, granny nylon knee-highs, the word itself, as a matter of fact, I have just decided that my grandkids will call me granny.
So I opened the email hoping it would be some sort of granny style email, because what says Happy Wednesday better than a flowery pillow made out of drapes found at an estate sale? Lo and behold it was. The company sending me the email is called Locallectual, and as per the name you can probably figure out that they promote local business. The cool thing about it is that they promote local businesses all over the country and they make it easy to do a search for whatever you are looking for.
Just for kicks I decided to see if they had my other website listed. To my surprise, they did. You see, in my former life I was a metalsmith. And when I say former I mean when I used to have caffeine in my coffee and runny in my eggs.
Now, when people ask me what I do for a living, I sorta freak a little in my head. I get nervous, turn red and say, “I’m a metalsmith”, except then I feel the need to go on to explain that I was a metalsmith but now I’m detoxing from it since I’m prego and now I write and illustrate children’s books, except I haven’t really published one yet but I’m working on it. No really, I do graphic design for free for non profit companies. Yes, that’s what I do, I work for free. I mean, I would love to get paid, but then there is all of the pressure of performing. If I just work for free and I suck then they can just go suck big eggs in the basket, right?
What is my point? One of them is that I really appreciate that Locallectual listed me on their website. Another one is that I long for the life that was before pregnant Amie where I used to drink a half pot of caffeinated coffee in the morning, a half to full bottle of wine at night and ate all the sushi and damn runny eggs I wanted. I am longing to be able to be creative again. It is something that runs through me and without several forms of creative releases, Amie turns into a dull boy.
But then, my mind inevitably turns to Matilda and the fact that she is getting stronger every day inside of me and it gives me the same rush that constructing a trinket out of nothing used to give me. It is more than that though. There is so much potential for her and that, to me is the epitome of creativity. Looking back on my life as it was, always fast forwards to this point in time looking to the future, and now that is all I can think about. I know a lot of my life from before I was pregnant will return in some form or another, but I am truly inspired to see what lies ahead.
What changed in your life after your children were here? What have you given up that you wish you could have back? What did you think you would miss that you don’t even think about now?
December 16, 2009
The prose of A Child’s Christmas in Wales
by Dylan Thomas were originally copyrighted in 1954 which is what I believe to be the reason that it is such a hilariously unusual and honest encounter of the author’s Christmas memories.
You may disagree, but I just can’t see a book being published today speaking about pegging cats with “snowballs at the green of their eyes”. How incredibly mischievous of these boys. This is not your average modern day Christmas story. It speaks of memories of himself getting a pack of cigarettes as a gift, sucking on one in front of an old woman all the while tricking them into scorning him for smoking only to eat the thing right in front of her. He recalls memories of his uncles smoking cigars and drinking beer, as well as his drunk Auntie Hannah “who likes port” singing drunkenly in the backyard. He is a practical jokster blowing up balloons until they burst which shook his passed out family from their comatose of eating and drinking too much.
So, yes, not your average Christmas story, but so well written and poetic. It is a funny, honest encounter of a little boy’s memory of Christmas in Wales. The illustrations by Edward Ardizzone assist the text in creating the warm, cozy feeling that one would imagine while spending Christmas in a quaint town in the snowy mountains snuggled in handmade pajamas, grandma’s Christmas quilt and sipping hot cocoa from a worn, blue speckled enamelware mug. I will definitely be reading this one to Matilda around Christmas time, and I hope that it gives her the same cozy feeling it gave me.
December 14, 2009
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