Eavesdropping

Ever eavesdropped on what malarkey your Baby Daddy is filling your kid's head with? If you read my last post you will know that Hank already knows this is a load of crap but Big Momma thought it was a hoot!

Big Daddy G was reading an innocent enough looking book to Hank about baby animals. How can you taint this, you ask? I over hear him say,
"This is Mrs. Chipmunk. That's M-R-S so that means she is married and not an unwed mother. Liberals write M-S when addressing women so as not to offend or label them with a title they may not have."

Expressing political views by title? To a 7 month old?
This is why you have to be careful about who you breed with.

The Fountain of Youth

I know where the fountain of youth is. It’s an idea represented by our kids. This is why couples have more than one - to hold on to the idea of eternal youth. We don’t want our babies to grow up but since that’s impossible we have another to experience the extreme side of what it’s like to be young again. Yes, we live through it via another vessel but we see the mundane as new again. Very refreshing (sometimes inSANE!) and probably why more mothers are above 35. Life may have gotten a little on the boring side so why not just turn the world upside down!

The best quote I remember from when I was pregnant was my friend Marsha who was 39 when she conceived – “ Allen made me feel so young! I loved it!” She has the fountain of youth, no doubt.

But I also have friends that wonder why the hell they did this again and see the unprotected event as a serious lack of judgment. Actually, that was my take on the FIRST one!

I think Hank will keep us young. We have to be because he’s a watcher. He has been from birth. When something new comes his way he gets real serious and stares at it. We laugh that he already knows what it is and he’s digging through the archive of his past lives to recollect the name for it - can you say GENIUS?!

He’s has had a lot of colds this year and he knows what helps him feel better – I swear he does! He takes medicine with ease. AND he’ll let us squeeze nose drops in his nose and suck out boogers. He lifts his head so we can do it! See? GENIUS! My mom has pegged him as an old soul. He looks like he already has it all figured out but he’s just in a baby body – like his body has to catch up with his brain. And the other word for the day is….biased!

Hank’s at a super fun age now. He’s ticklish and tumbles around just smiling. And he doesn’ t mind being by himself for short stretches while I get ready or whatever. He got that honest. He’s very snuggly and social. We are so proud.

We have some new songs that we sing to him. We were watching vintage commercials on YouTube ( remember jingles?!) and ran across the Enjoli commercial from the 80’s – “Cuz I’m a wooooMAN Enjoli!” we sing “Cuz I’m a Baaaaby Hen-err-y!” Try to get that one out of your head – it’s sticks in there like You’re the One That I Want from Grease.

Ewww.

Hank Letter #7: Chaos Theory

OK Doodle Bug, you are 7 months old and if I thought I had it rough in the early days of your life boy, I had no idea! I have two times of day that are my favorite - when you wake up and smile at me when I came to get you and when I get home from work. I so willingly let the house go so we can eat dinner, read books, cry sometimes, and just get ready to end the day.

Today was a particularly hard day for Mommy. You've been sick for so long and another cold has you up at night. It's 8:30pm and I've been up since 3am - it was so sad to hear you cry. We rocked for hours trying to find comfort. But, alas, it did come and the day began in all it's chaotic glory. So much went wrong today but knowing I'll see you at the end made it all just roll off my back. It was really outrageous though!

It's a job getting you out of the house now on days that I work. But it's all necessary to keep you nicely fed, warm, clean, clothed, and now snot free. You've been wiping boogers on my shoulder for days now so I've been relegated to white t-shirts while I'm here around the house. But I don't care; bring on the boogers if it means relief for you.

Time passes in a blur now. I may be stressed beyond what I ever thought I could handle but the brain is a funny organ. It can make the craziest of times seem not so bad in hindsight.

Don't get me wrong here, I'm not complaining just seriously wondering if I can hold it all together for you. I'll choose to see the bleary time passage as a blessing if it means I keep just a thread of sanity. A human hair sized thread.

I'm not going to sugar coat it for you - this is hard work. I've never been delusional about that. If a parent is serious about doing a good job it's totally consuming. Marriages can get left behind to slowly disintegrate while parents focus on their babies. Daddy and I are working hard to be a team for you now - to show you how to be a family as wonderfully dysfunctional as it may be. Hopefully, I don't kill him off before you get to know him. I'm kidding...

Even before you were born we were Team Steele at the track; we've just expanded that's all!

Love you babycakes!

Clean and Soft

You might be thinking that I am referring to bath towels but I’m not – ever shook a masseuse’s hand? IT’s like they just handed you a baby butt. They’re so EXFOLIATED and moisturized; nary a hang nail anywhere. My hands aren’t necessarily workers hands like a mechanics or anything but they do scrub bathtubs, kitchen sinks and manipulate mountains of laundry. I’m gonna start naming these mountain ranges in my hallway– Mt. ManyPanties or the Dungaree Hills.

I’m taking a break this week. I’m in Destin overlooking a glassy sea. Right now, the scene is: G Dub is in the bathroom “reading”, Hanky Doodle is sleeping and I’ve got coffee on the back patio by the water listening to glorious waves. Ahhhhhhh. I’m so going to enjoy these 10 minutes.

Yesterday was the real break though. I got my yearly extra-indulgent massage. Dear Lord, please, in your infinite mercy, spare Silver Shells Resort if you ever decide to blow away Destin in a hurricane. You definitely get what you pay for and if I overpay here I could care less – I get mimosas while I wait ( that’s why I arrive 2 hours early – j/k) and a muscle melting aromatherapy message that makes me forget that I have woken up that morning.

BrownEyesSweetheart and I always go together so it’s a tradition that 2 weeks or so before we all leave SOMEONE calls and gets the messages and/or yoga set up. I was dreaming of it in August so I called this year. Yoga doesn’t seem to be happening though. My infant has regressed to waking up every hour at night so I’m not in a bendy mood unless I’m curled up in the bed. But we sipped our mimosas casually like we do this all the time or something.

I’m real particular about my messages. In Nashville I’ve got one masseuse and I will not visit another. I’ve gone to her for at least 5 years now - she’s just wonderful. She does my energy work and comes to derby bouts so we are friends. BUT if I’m out of town I ALWAYS request a man

……there goes a pelican….

masseuse. I’m hopelessly hetrosexual and find that man hands on my back are worthy of their high price. Does it sound weird to ask when you make the appointment “ Are there any men that work there?” I’m a Massage John! I’d totally risk getting caught if it were illegal just like the regular kind of John.

OMG - what comes to mind is Sex and the City when Samantha requested a masseuse that will “go down on you” HAHAHAHH I got tickled during my message yesterday when that thought popped into my head just as my hand fell off the table into a potentially compromising area had my muscles not already been deemed unfunctional. Any movement on my part would have been pure reflex -heehee - I’m just being crude. G Dub is my perfect man but he’d get the joke.

This guy’s massages are not sexual; they are pleasural. He has a wife but I’m pretty sure that his wife is a man so there’s no sexual vibes

…..oooo seagulls……

going on there but there is a sense that he likes touching women’s bodies. YEAH FOR ME! Almost all my gay friends are fascinated by boobs just like their hetro counterparts. No, he did not rub my boobs - geez. But since Hank’s been born I’m insecure about my body so thank God for dim lights. I tensed back up while he was doing the creative sheet fold to uncover my leg – I’ve never done that before being the low modesty person I normally am. I’ll get over it some day and then I’ll be old enough to not give a s**t anyway. Just rub the leg dammit -spider veins and all!! Wonder they would like to charge extra if you have cellulite?

……poopy diaper break…….

Oh man, it’s Saturday and we have to leave tomorrow. Boo. It’s certainly been great being with our buds and their babies and special guest Aunt Donna! We are so thankful for them and being in our lives! Thanks to them for letting us ride their shirt tails on this condo all these years – I’d hate to have to sleep in the sand.

NPR

If you haven't already noticed this is a diary blog. Not to be confused with a political blog or an art showcase blog or anything important like that. Nope. It's just me blathering on in my Hunter Thompson stream of conscientiousness.

Regarding Thompson, he's probably not someone that should be admired but I find his spirit interesting. Interesting in a way that you might find, like, a cucumber fish interesting. I love reading about his hi jinx. Who would run for a sheriff's office under the "Freak Power" ticket and actually get VOTES?!? Just wonderfully awesome. Something may look insane but is it really? Or did we miss the perspective? Hmmm.

Well anyway, enough about that. I don't have the mental energy to devote to a rhetorical loop right now - I have Thanksgiving travel to think about.

I am kind of laughing on the inside because my kid is going to know who Bob Edwards is before he learns his ABCs. We listen to NPR on XM radio A LOT. After I drop him off at daycare I have a good half hour drive to work in traffic so I jot notes in a journal as I listen. Yeah I know. Dangerous! But I'm usually only going 25 mph and I have to because I'll forget the thoughts these interviews conjure up.

Some topics are really cool. Like why we can't really write about family in blogs. Do YOU have the nuts to write honestly about your Dad here? You might think you do but if you know they read it, you probably don't. And are you betraying them by doing it after they die so they can't respond? Well yeah...duh. Isn't that kind of language is pretty harsh for the living? Putting a mirror up to my parents isn't my job; they will learn about themselves on their own journey and I'll let them be. Or maybe they see themselves in me...? Maybe not.

Or the phenomenal interview with Rafe Esquith, author of Lighting Their Fires. Whoa. This guy inspired even me to make better choices and he teaches 5th grade in rough LA schools! Teach HOW to make decisions not just preach to do it. I'm posting a link -please listen!

http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=4608476

Expose your kids to everything with excitement and support! They will remember and feel encouraged. Or leave me in the utopia in my head but I do believe it in my heart. Do you think it's too early to read Shakespeare to Hank?

Blogging in general was a topic and it got me to thinking about the blogs I read with spelling errors. Of course, I can change tense 3 times in one sentence so I'm not immune but some really are funny. They read more like a Mad Lib than prose. I prefer to think of them as a lesson in creative homonyms. ;D

I'm linking in my current fav website. Not kid friendly and not that you expected that anyway.

http://www.dontevenreply.com/index.php

If anyone remembers Charles Kuralt and his "On The Road" series, please tell me how good it was to watch! I've only gotten to hear about it or read it and hope to get the DVD set for Christmas! Highlighting the extremely ordinary made it extraordinary. And who cares if he had a mistress - being extremely ordinary made him extraordinary.

http://topics.npr.org/topic/Charles_Kuralt

And lastly, the fall colors made me think of my great-grandmother these past few weeks. I was lucky enough to be in my 20's when she passed away but I remember pictures she used to send me in Florida when I was 10 or my early teens. They were always of the view outside her Missouri front door or down the sidewalk. At the time, I was a self absorbed dork going through a parental divorce - ugh, I didn't get it. I would think " Oh nice, some trees". But now I get it and I'm so happy that she lives on in my memories. She wanted me to see her world. Her immediate world was small consisting of her Down Syndrome son and a daughter that visited - she wanted to pass on to me what she saw and how it changed throughout the year. Thank you so much. I love you.

Namaste.

Grief and Eulogies

When I know all the words to Amazing Grace I know I've been to too many funerals. I've attended two this month for men that leave....I feel it's an understatement to say the word " void" . They leave more than a void - more like a chasm. More like an abyss.

I've begun see lessons in eulogies. I learn about time. I learn about quality. I learn not to be afraid to really live to the fullest and best of my ability. And to not accept the low standards that my sometimes lazy psyche lets me get away with. I learn to not let criticism hold me back from my goals or expression. Whether it's tattoos or my taste in artwork or being a loving wife or raising a decent young man, eulogies inspire me to be a complete person for the sake of those that I love and those that love me.

Tonight's funeral was particularly grievous. When a person dies young it affects me differently than an elderly person. It's that lose of potential thing that I've written about before. I miss an elderly person's presence. I miss a young person's potential milestones.

Eddy " Killer" McCreery was killed by a drunk driver in front of his daughter while helping tow her car. He loved and was loved very much. He had the name Killer but all he had to do was flash that smile and you just fell into his life. I felt like I've known him for years but I've only had the privilege of knowing him and his wife for a little more than a year. He was the proverbial " Never judge a book by it's cover" lesson. Whoever walked by him in judgement missed an opportunity of a lifetime.
This is how l learn that tattoos, piercings, and clothes don't mean anything. These are external expressions based on our perception of self. Find out a person's story and then realize how connected we all are.

The letter "i" is in this blog a lot and luckily it's not about me. I'm being taught by masters and by my savior about unconditional love, compassion, empathy, respect, kindness, faith, integrity and true friendship. Thank you Lord for these valuable teachings.

Letter to Hank #6 - Closing down the Target

To be specific about how much I have changed since your birth - I used to close down bars, now I close down Target. I was surprised by the announcement "Shoppers, you have 15 minutes to make your final purchases...." Like a last call for alcohol over the intercom. I got a little anxious because I still hadn't made it over to the Halloween section!!

I spent my tiny 2 hours of alone time amongst the aisles and got to read the fine print on EVERYTHING! Have you ever read the ingredients of Lysol disinfecting wipes? Fascinating! Normally, I can hear the wheels of the cart clanging and chattering desperately trying to keep up with my pace, like there's a damn fire somewhere. I hope I have a blow out and see a wheel go flying into the products - kinda like bowling - I might pee a little laughing.

I notice that I rush constantly now. I hardly taste food anymore - it's only sustenance to get me through the day without passing out. I ran through Kroger yesterday. I hurry home at the end of my work day because your smiling face will be there already and I don't want to miss a minute before you go to bed. You change every day, do something different and it's awesome.

Guess I can take the "Whilst my friends have babies and mortgages, I have hangovers and 100 shoes" group off my FB page! It doesn't apply anymore but I'm not getting rid of my shoe collection.

And now, thanks to your easy going Daddy, I listen to XM23 XM radio’s Love channel!? I horribly found out that babies do not like to fall asleep to Metallica. A good Peabo Bryson or Peter Cetera song is dual purpose; it will put you out in a heart beat and make Momma’s heart do a little flutter for Daddy ( even if I try not to admit it). But I do have to turn it when Mariah Carey comes on. Sorry kid, but Momma’s got limits. I can't listen to someone that spits glitter.

I was at a mixer event at church last night and I'm a little worried about what kind of example I'm going to be for you. When the question was asked " What option would you like to have on your car?" I said flame thrower without even pausing. And I'm really trying to work on my cursing, in about 6 months you're going to be parroting me/us. It'll take 6 months for me to reprogram my language center - no problem. On my own I didn't have the motivation to change so thank you for the kick in the pants.

I still make up songs. My lastest one is Billy Joel "In the middle of the night, I go nursing in my sleep..."

You are such a jolly little boy! You had a whole restaurant visiting with you one afternoon and I could not have been more grateful for a sweet boy. You reach for people to hold you now and it just makes me smile. Now, I'm singing Chicago....

Adventures in Teenage Angst

Becky and I weren't really angsty. Oh ok, yes we were. We were a couple of punk asses in a small, backward, uber-conservative town in East TN. None of this is exaggerated. It's all true so beware.

I think I should start describing our clothes. Starting at the bottom.
8 eyelet Black Doc Marten combat boots were a must. Black and white striped tights cut off to be thigh highs hooked on to a garter belt hanging below some sort of skirt or shredded material that we called a skirt or shorts. I wore shredded jean shorts held together by staples. shirts were various bands like The Cramps or My Life with the Thrill Kill Kult, Bauhaus or Iron Maiden. Becky was known for the band t-shirts, I was known for electrical tape over my nipples.
The tape idea came to me after I got my second tattoo - it was on my back and I wanted to show it off so I slapped tape on my nips and called it a shirt! HAHAH!
Oh yeah - tattoos were not the rage then so I was deemed going to hell many times.

For hair I had to keep mine normal looking becuase I actually had a JOB. Becky never did so she got to do punk and all it's permutations of color and style. I shaved the underside of my head and put a Pebbles pony tail on top. When I let it down it looked normal enough to keep my job as a waitress at Pizza Hut. Then I dyed it jet black and my mom threatened to kick me out of the house. I had, and still do, have a way of just showing up changed in some way! If you ask permission chances are they'll say no so why ask...just do it.
So there is the look. We were 17 or 18. I will always remember a woman moving her kid out of our way when we walked by. LOL!

Now for some situations.
Roadtrips were our specialty. I don't know how we did it but we never had money. Ever. We shared a 6inch veggie and cheese at Subway and called it dinner. So how we paid for gas I'll never remember. Oh wait, Becky had a way of getting a credit card then just maxing it out so I think that's how. Speed limits meant nothing and we would drive my car at it's maximum speed ( a whole 95 mph) to Atlanta to go to the Masquarade.
One trip with our friend Venus, we had all just got tattooed that morning and set out for Atlanta to shop at Little Five Points. Through the blaring music we noticed a car full of guys next to us and of course they waved and we waved. I remember flashing for beer and it being past into my car through the windows. We laughed and sped off. A few exits down we stop at a gas station to pit stop and up pulls that car of guys. I didn't even notice until I felt a hand grab my butt, like the whole thing! I swerved and decked him in the head and out came Becky from the other aisle screaming like banshee. We just left but I think I left him with a nice shiner.
Another detail of that trip was when I was driving and the asphalt was torn up and making that rumble strip noise really loud....when it ended I realized that I was going over 70mph in SECOND GEAR! I can't believe that little car took our abuse in stride. Thus coining the phrase "In our world _______"

Becky moved. A lot. And who had to help her with all her crap? Me. She would borrow her dad's little S-10 truck. It was a manual transmission and since she didn't know how to drive a manual she got in it and took off down a busy Kingsport road. Bucking at every red light. We didn't believe in boxes I guess so we just piled all her junk in the back and as you drove ( and tried to take off in first gear) tupperware would fall out in the road or just fly out leaving a Hansel and Gretel trail behind us.
That picture kills me everytime...

That truck has other stories. We were with Dave Hollers, of the local band JAD ( Jeff, Allan, Dave), sweetest goofiest guy ever. He stole a 6ft blow up dinosaur from a corner car lot and rode with it in the back of this truck. I think he rode on it too. We happily paraded through the streets.
And we piled 10 people in the back of it looking for some spooky cave one night. Of course, all those people in the back started making out - just testing the waters of potential love affairs. No affairs began and no cave was found. We all just got a little love that night.

I had shoes that were clear and the soles were glow in the dark. Becky got red patented leather combat boots. Oh man, I almost forgot about my vintage Doc Martens with the soviet hammer and sickle on the toes! I still have them.

Being naked wasn't a problem either. I was driving down Volunteer Pkwy in Bristol with my boyfriend and a friend of his following in his car. I got some kind of wild hair and took off my clothes and pulled up next to them waving madly. We stopped at a stop light, I got out, ran around the car and got back in. They were dying laughing. I think I got back into my clothes while driving too....crazy.
A bunch of us would go swimming and trade bathing suits - guys would wear ours and we'd wear theirs. The boys looked much funnier than we did.

Bars were like a playground. Distracting bouncers, bribes, breaking in through the back door - everything. Our boyfriends were in metal bands so they were always playing in bars - we had to get in somehow! Getting drinks wasn't hard either. Getting caught and getting out of it was kinda fun too.
Becky got punched in the nose by some redneck girl and I was laughing too hard to help her.
I got super drunk and wore some nasty sombero off the wall for the night. Somehow it didn't come home with me.
There are many times we don't remember how we got home.
Being out all night and running the air conditioning ice cold to stay awake to drive home. Home is Becky's house NOT mine!

Somehow I stayed in school - I was a freshman in college by then.
She got student loans and never went to class.


Whew! What a ride! And I've left so much out...believe it or not.

oh man....random topics

Geez, I've thought of 3 or 4 blog topics over the course of the last few weeks and now I can't remember any of them. Dang. Most of what I think of are just silly stuff but I have a couple of serious ones around here somewhere. I need one of those lapel voice recorders like Dr.s use to do their notes ( or the free one when you buy the As Seen On TV leather organizer purse! Milk, eggs, bread...insert cheesy "what a good buy" head shake)

Oh yeah. Daycare. Boo. Our current situation with Hank is that he's staying with Big Daddy G's mom. I kinda put this in the same category as doing business with family - DON'T EVER DO IT! Just like you'd never buy a car from family. Some things are off limits and especially with in laws.
I never doubt that Hank is being loved to death over there; actually that's part of the problem. He's gonna be spoiled beyond recovery! That's gonna happen anyway, as it should I guess, but maybe shorter intervals of time would be a little less worrisome. It's actually a huge story, I just don't want to write it all!

But Hank is only 5 months old and I'm already the a$$hole in the family. I've gotten this wonderful title by not compromising on my standards. So sue me. I've been an a$$hole many times in my life but I hate that this time there are delicate dynamics and emotions involved. AND I can't walk away never to return - I have to stay and live with decisions I've made ( gasp!) and face those involved. Somehow in recent years my cajones have shrunk...I'd like to get those back.

I've been at a friend's house today cooking and got to crush garlic cloves! You don't know what that means to me - I haven't gotten to do that in years! Big Daddy G despises garlic and can sniff even one molecule of it on my breath so cooking with it is so out of the question. Oh, but today I'm gonna be stanky with it and I hope he wakes up in the middle of the night with my breath aimed right at his head! HAHAHA There's actually a story for this - we sleep in a tiny full size bed so every so often we wake up to various smells. I've awoke with my nose buried in his arm pit. He's awoke to my morning breath mouth literally inches from his face - ewww! A dutch oven is a breeze in this bed. It's more like a little fart crock pot.

This week, I attended the funeral of a really good friend. The eulogy was phenomenal and so accurate. But it got me to thinking about writing my best friend's eulogy. I'd purge to paper all the fun/wackadoo things we used to do and how I appreciate her so much now. No joke, I couldn't make up some of the crazy stuff we would get into. I'll put them in a blog soon cuz they really are entertaining to think about and will explain a lot!

ok - out for now.

Vamanos Vandettes!

Ahhh, school is back in session at Vandy and all the latest fashions are on parade. Butt uggly gladiator sandals that I wrote about in August - check. Skinny jeans, check. Huge purses, check. 80's earrings, check.

What is cracking me up as I watch this super special poplulation are the freshman boys. Nope - they aren't men just yet, they are boys. They shine in a crowd like the beacon of light atop the Luxor in Vegas. You can't miss them. Slouchy posture, Star Wars t-shirt, zits, Converse high tops with writing all over the border - basically a high schooler relocated to fashionista central. Oh yeah, they check out the fully vested Vandettes with the kind of awe normally reserved for, like, roman godesses or something.
But these boys won't be considered men until they are wearing Madras shorts with flip flops, a too long Ralph Lauren broad cloth shirt ( untucked, of course) and have participated in Greek rush. Then they can join their girl counterparts and wear a greek shirt announcing a formal event everyday.

Mostly I have contact with them while driving Vandy's perimeter and they are entitled enough to cut me off on their way to Smack for the latest glittery, buckle-y hobo bag. The sweetheart of a line from Fried Green Tomatoes comes to mind "I'm older and I have more insurance" as I envision accidently on purpose taking out their back bumper.

We have a huge amount of undergrads working in our lab this semester and I have to give many of them credit - they are mostly good kids. No, really. Many don't really live in the trust fund crowd. You know, that part of the student parking garage that houses more expensive cars than I could ever afford. School isn't all a fashion show for them - or is it that we are such a nerdy subject that we attract the ones that would actually want to work one day?
Except the one that used to work with me - she was genuinely perplexed to find out that I had to work THROUGH the summer. Oh, the horror! Luckily, she isn't around anymore to constantly remind me that, yes, I HAVE to work through the summers for the REST OF MY LIFE!

Even though Vandy seems like an oasis for the privledged it's really just like every other school - it just costs 5 times as much! You've still got the sportos, the motorheads, geeks, sluts, bloods, wasteoids, dweebies, dickheads. Thank god!

Spiritual Deal Breaker?

I have a topic that has bothered me for years and it's just gnawing at me for some reason again. Like the preverbial pink elephant this topic may turn it's back only to return again to conjure the same questions and uncomfortable feelings.

I was baptized and am a member of the Church of Christ faith. Some people that know me may find that shocking but yes, I take it pretty seriously and struggle with many worldly aspects ( meaning there are some vices I can't seem to leave behind :/ ) I have to be honest about how I chose this denomination though. Our good freinds Andy and Julie were at the time very active in their COC congregation and when Gary and I made the (huge!) decision to begin a spiritual journey we turned to them and their home congregation. Kinda like a default..."This one works well for them so lets try it out" I knew zero about COC. Nada.

In the years leading up to now I have learned a great deal positive and negative about Churches of Christ and won't begin a theological listing of them now BUT there is one that has come up for me since literally day one. I remember visting only once or twice and asked Julie about this - she so awesomely quoted Ephesians and I cried the rest of the service. I was shattered to learn a woman's role in COC. I wasn't going to return.

It took Gary a lot of convincing back then to get me through the doors again but the next week I did enter in. But I've wrestled with it since. What do I want here?

In 8 years I've seen women do amazing things in the church. But many times it is under the eye of a male deacon or elder. Am I so opposed to oversight? No. Am I just offended that women have to be overseen by men - you bet your butt.

I have a quality about me that I either get respect for or I get ragged on for - and it's equality in all things. In our marriage I get ragged on because I require equality all the way down to scrubbing the bathtub ( if you help dirty it, you help clean it). In gender roles, I require equality because no man has proved to be superior to a woman ( and vice versa). I've seen a man's pride and insecurity squelch a woman's dreams and take for granted her sacrifice. Pride is indeed one of the seven deadly sins and a man's pride can demand respect where there shouldn't be any. Apparently, the above situation has shaped my vision of men and I am forever fortified.

I know women are prideful and someone has to lead situations and relationships. This is why I struggle. As for leaders, that's merit based. If a man and a woman are in the running for something but the man acts like an ass and makes bad choices, should his gender default him as a worthy candidate? No. Granted the woman may make bad choices too so she's out of the running in my book. Give credit to who deserves the job, male or female.

So how do I resolve this? I've thought about changing churches. I've thought about it several times. But do I have the strength to do that? Do I have a valid arguement? What if I never feel like I am in the right place? I love our congregation dearly but do I let this be a deal breaker?

Gain of Potential

I've noted in the past my mourning for the loss of potential when someone dies. It's like I feel all that could have been accomplished in that life and it makes me sad. Even more sad because I'm not always living up to my potential and I know it. But, for the first time ever, I watch my baby sleep and I see a gain of potential. I can feel the milestones, see the accomplishments - I don't know what they are but there is so much in store for this little guy.

I got all sentimental today after I had put him down to nap ( and he actually went to sleep!) and remembered the height chart at my Grandma's house. It was on the trim of a bedroom door and I thought it was sooo cool when I got to put my height there in pencil along side my Aunt Karla's. Dad was 12 years older than his sister so he wasn't there. Of course, none of us got very high on the chart ( I think mine stopped at age 12 HA!) but it was there tracking our progress. I'll have to have one for Hank but I'll make it ON the door edge so I can take it with me if we ever move. I had the mental image of when he's grown and gone and me with the sliver of a wooden door in the corner of my bedroom from the days when I didn't know was in his future.

We are getting such a kick out of looking at the back of his head - he looks like Charlie Brown! Little whispy hair and ears sticking out. HAHAHH He's gonna one day think we are freaks for having pictures of the back of his head but it's so cute!

Ok, enough gushing about my kid. I just have to write all this kind of stuff before it fades back into life.

Grecian Assault!

OMG - I HATE the flat grecian gladiator sandals that all women are wearing nowadays. They are the uggliest ( that's a Fruedian slip because I hate Uggs too!) shoes I've ever seen on ANy feet. You can have the prettiest feet and these shoes make them hideious. Companies can bead them, put shiney metel on them, ummm....ribbons, bows whatever and they are still ugly as hell. And Vandy students are coming back soon so I'll be accosted by these beautified skis. They make the smallest foot look like a big ski BUT they dont' make fat feet look skinny - trust me, they don't. Fat feet look like fat feet and especially when they last two toes are basically walking on the ground - that little strap over the toes....it does nothing to help here.

Oh and jelly shoes - don't even get me started. Sweat in those and it's like walking on a snot rocket. Add a little foot dirt and you got yourself a dirty snotty mess. Hated them in 1986 and hate them now. And I don't care if Miley Cyrus endorses them in Walmart - you shouldn't be shopping there anyway.
SO there.

Letter to Hank #5 - Precious Things

Yep, I'm whipped. You've whipped me good. There are times that I look at you and wish I could think of a word better than precious, better than perfect. Wow, I think you'll never know what a feat you have accomplished but you have made your mommy speechless!

You were sleeping in your diaper tonight all wrapped in your blankie and your little feet were poking out the bottom of the soft cloth. When I think that even your toes are much too sweet to even look at - you KNOW I'm in love. I mean I love your Daddy and his feet are pretty big and cute but nothing like yours, Hankie! ;D As you slept you would gently spread your toes and I just watched and melted. You better not use this later to get yourself out of trouble though - I can see you now "Look Ma! Look at my feet!" spreading your toes out trying to distract me from my wrath. It might work but you'll never know it ;D

My Chinese friend at work, Qiao, said that " if baby have a big feet will be big boy. My son have little feet a and he short man, he short like me!" And, son, you have big precious feet! Maybe there will something to that because all the Chinese ladies thought I was having a boy becuase I didn't look too pregnant from the back ( oh, but they didn't see me the last 5 weeks!)

I even think the back of your head is darlin'. What's up with THAT?! Basically, you've turned me to mush.

That mushiness has left me kind of vulnerable though and I have to be careful about what I hear and what I read. I have been having nightmares about child abuse and neglect. With the downturn in our economy there has been a spike in the cases of shaken baby syndrome and other abuses - namely by fathers that have are or have been out of work and now are caretakers. You and I pray each night for children that need love and attention - that God will wrap his warm hands around them. When you smile it breaks my heart that anyone could hurt babies or talk mean to them or just pay them no mind. I've witnessed in our own church nursery children that need more attention than they are getting - and it's just things like bad diaper rash. I held the hand of a little boy that was in a lot of pain and it was so sad I gave them all the rash cream I had, I just pray they use it. I can't stay in nursaries too long and you haven't been in one alone yet - OH NO, please don't let me be a hovering mother!?

Hank, I know you will feel pain one day and that makes me sad already but it's irrational to think that you won't. I was even apprehensive to give you gas drops for cryin' out loud!? Once I get over the hump of the "firsts" I'll be better...Good Lord, I HOPE so!

Did you say horney?!?!

I got a grrlfriend, Tracy, that just cracks me up! We were having an enlightening conversation about differences in the libido of men and women. This all started because I was asking how long is it after you have your baby that you feel sexy again - I feel like an awkward 14 year old whose body just got boobs and she doesn't know what to do with them or what clothes to put them into. I'm thinking of some of my most unflattering pictures and they were ALL around that time frame!

The conversation flows around different topics and she chimes in about drug ads on TV. That if aliens were to see these ads they would think that humans are sex starved, fat, creatures that can't pee or breath due to nasal allergies. OMARIS! TO THE NOSE!
Of course, we found particular humor in the sex starved topic and started with the old stand by - Viagra. We theorized that there are some pretty pissed off 65 year old women that thought they wouldn't have to worry about a man panting around for noogie by the time they got to their age. Oh, but in the commercials the ladies look so happy to have their old man back...what a crock!
We just cackled like a bunch of hens HAHAH!

THEN she was referring to her and her husband and how nature should be allowed to progress without interference but instead her husband has taken measures to ensure his manhood - OMG, I can't even say that with out busting out laughing! So why is it that men think they have to stay virile their whole life?! We slow down so why would God makes guys suffer by staying perfectly lusty....oh wait, THAT's why many go out and somehow get a 25 year old. Ahhh, got it.
Well, anyway, her hubby has been taking an herbal supplement from GNC that is Horney Goat Weed!! HAHAHAH I haven't laughed that hard in I don't know how long!
I kept saying it over and over. The mental images just slay me. I can imagine taking this and spontaneously growing a nasty little gotee ( or goatee BAH!) overnight amongst other things.
Her response was that if he'd quit taking that crap they would both be on the same level ...wouldn't ya think?

Just good girl locker room talk...;D

Thom Revisited

From across Broadway I saw the wheelchair and immediately knew it was him. It was Thom whom I'd met last June on the walking bridge. A homeless man with a brain stem injury from the Korean war. I left my family in Jack's BBQ to double back and see him again. He was guzzeling beer from a cup and looked much rougher than the last time I saw him but his crystal blue eyes were still beautiful. He had lost more teeth and his speech unintelligible ( probably more from being drunk than anything) but I told him I knew him. I'm positive he doesn't remember but I reminded him that I took his picture and that it was my all time favorite. Just like last time, he hugged me and took my hand. Again, he was very dirty. I told him how beautiful he was to me and that I thought of him often. Can positive words help even if you hear them only once a year? Like I said, he was drunk and won't remember the last 3 hours for all I know but I had to say it and I'm glad I did. My heart just kind of gushes when I see him and I don't know why.

And he is someone's child. Thom was once a mother's shining star. He once had parents that I hope cared for him and tucked in a cozy bed at night. Those sweet memories may be haunting him, who knows?

Maybe he is another kind of angel in my midst. I don't get to keep this one but he is there as a reminder that the world is cruel and to have compassion, not pity, for all. His wings are gray, frayed and hidden under his tattered shirt. I have this compelling want to try to fix him. Bring him home, clean him up, feed him, get him help. But is he supposed to be fixed? What is his destiny? I have no idea. I just hate that he suffers.
I took Thom's picture again and his eyes will be the focus; I can see the image before I've even had it developed.

Hank Letter #4

I know angels exist. I have one in my house. He is sleeping in his green dragon jammies with his wings folded so I can't see them. God gave him to us. Can I ever top a gift so divine? We tucked him in all cozy and peaceful to get ready for his next day of teaching; teaching us how to strive for a higher standard of being. We cherish our angel since we will never receive another like it. He is one of a kind just for us. With his wings he will one day fly away but until then just let me look at him. I'll look as long as it takes to keep his image with me forever.

Plop Plop Whizz Whizz

Oh what a relief it is...
You know those stone cherubs in big French fountains that pee? That's my kid.
We are having to treat his little winky with hydrogen peroxide since he had surgery and, boy, anytime that coldness hits it...it's like a garden hose gone out of control! He's gotten all of us especially my mom and that just cracks me UP. I turn my back to get yet another outfit for Hank and Mom starts jumping back hollering and grasping for diapers or just anything to block the stream with a trajectory you can calculate a tangent on.

Bad thing is he's getting bigger and so is the fountain. It makes a puddle now and I've often thought of waterproof cribs or piddle pads in his room. Can you see me holding the pad trying to guess where the pee will land? Like looking for a fly ball in the sun. I know there is the PeePee TeePees and the genius that makes me wonder why that hasn't been around since the dawn of diapers - must invest in those. I think I'll get the ones with skulls and geetars since that will be fun to look at when I'm up at 3am and have already been puked on..but at that point why stop at puke? Last night I had been puked and peed on TWICE! He's sneaky like that and just when you think he's done...kapow!
I'm gonna get really out of my element when he starts to think it's funny; and if he's my kid he'll do it on purpose even if he IS too young to talk and just laugh and laugh.

His great grandma and great aunt are in town now and they are convinced he is already a genius. Hank enteratined them and opened his mouth like he has something to say - kind of like a gasp. It's funny to see them making up what they think he's trying to say. We're probably way off thinking that he's all lovey and sweet... why do you think Stuey exists? Cuz that's what they are really thinking in there! hahaha No way, he really is so sweet we call him "sugar lumps". I'll be sure to wave goodbye to "sugar lumps" when he's 14 and at school...heehee I can't WAIT!

It's been a long day for the boy that never sleeps. He's finally crashed in shear exhaustion and, frankly, so am I. He is so beautiful but I think he looks best when his eyes are closed.
;D

All in a daze wok

This day is literally in the Dear Diary ( even though I keep spelling dairy) category. The morning started out with a very stressed new mom and a screaming, over tired 2 month old. My brain waves are so fragmented that I lose concept of time so I had no idea I had been up for 2 hours beginning at 4am trying to soothe an upset child until I was about to crack. And by that I mean we were both in tears – so much so that they were running down my chest. I just let them fall. Then I laid him in his bed and left to go lay in mine – we both just cried it out.

What stressed me out most was that I now have to go to work and put on a nice face. When I was home all day I could handle it a little better because I could eventually settle him then go back to sleep for an hour and become a partial person again. Now I can’t. I have to paint on face that says I’m doing well and couldn’t be better AND be productive. I’m a zombie now and do not dream when I sleep.

Thank goodness for friends that listen and just let me cry intermittently all day.

But really the ultimate “ ok, I’m just going the home now” moment was the total embarrassment I just encountered. It’s rare for me to declare TOTAL embarrassment about something but it does happen and I have to take note. Like the time I had an Xray done at the chiropractor – it was of my low back. He threw that film on the light box and I about had a stroke! There was a shadow at the bottom…hmmm, what’s that? It was my hooey!! I don’t even know what he said my problem was but I’m sure he noticed my blazing red face and maybe even wondered why I looked like I would run from the room blowing my chair into the wall! I never blush but that was blush worthy. Dang, and I have to see him pretty often too.

Back to today as if I needed another reason to cry. I have to lug a breast pump to work to feed this child - that’s goofy feelin’ enough but Vandy isn’t a pump friendly work place. I have to go to a shower closet 4 floors down to hook up! And I learned today that there is a lot breasts vying for time in this closet. The moment I heard the door rattle the horrified thought of “Dear God, did I lock this door???” It was like slow motion and no I did not. WHY?!?! I DON’T KNOW I’M NEW TO ALL THIS! So there I was, like a deer in the headlights but teats hooked up to a milking machine. And how can you cover yourself with hands full of plastic? You can’t. You have to sit there and apologize loudly and profusely so the intruder can hear you through the door. I don’t really remember her face but I bet she would recognize ME out in the hallways. Great.
OMG, anyone got a shot of tequila anywhere?

Get me outta here!!

Notable Quips

I just have to write down some of the phrases that have caught my attention over time - either funny, ironic, enlighening or profound they all have a place in my cranium. Some have a history, some are history and other just pass unnoticed until later and I finally get it.

"Damn, I forgot to shave my arms" - Drea Desdemona
A cross dresser friend of mine - Tony- said this when I picked him up for a show. I've never forgotten how hard I laughed.

"It doesn't take a sex fest to make a baby" - Tracy
A work friend of mine said this when I was trying to figure out how unprotected sex got me all knocked up

"Your kid will be a pain in the ass just like you" - Becky
Ahhh, you gotta love the honesty of a best friend. She's probably right.

" Thank God it's you not me!" - Becky
When I took the preg test and I was curled up in her bed in a panic - words of comfort were not available from her hahaha

I would rather live my life as if there is a God and die to find out there isn't, than live my life as if there isn't and die to find out there is - Albert Camus
Transcendentalism at it's finest

DeeBee DeeBee DeeBee DeeBee - Harish
I never know what he's saying...

"No minivan and soccer haircut for her. Her child also won’t get away with anything. Angela is too cluey to be fooled by a child, even her own." – Sarah
I guess we'll see won't we??

"It just is what it is" - Nydia
About as simple was you can get without being too apathetic

"Let him be in a happy dream world, your dad said I ruined his life so it could always be so much worse.” - My Mom
When I told her I was pregnant and she thought I was joking. I rolled my eyes that gary was falling all over himself with excitement so she gave me some reality.

"The world needs parents that care! " owner of Scarlet Begonia
Simple reassurance. Period.

Tylenol, kisses and blue kool aid fix everything!" - Marcia
Simple kid comforts and very wise. Thank you!

“Dot can’t have anymore cuz there’s something wrong with my semen” - Glen in Raising Arizona
heeheehee We crack up at that line everytime. He said semen.

“Baby, needs a sammich!” - Denise
Said with the voice of a black jazz singer when all I ate was egg salad sandwiches and had to have them at that moment - no waiting!

Don't wrestle the pig - both of you will end up dirty but the pig likes it - Winston Churchill
How true. Love him and his genious.

Hank Letter #3 - Scary Love

Here I go making up songs again "We've Got a Scary Kind of Love" by Phil Collins whom I really hate BTW. Oh yeah and I thought of another that went with my last blog " Somebody Done Somebody Thong Song" but I can't think of the artist this second. That's the caliber of subjects that haunt me at 5am.

SO Hank - you are officially 2 months old! Wow! My connection to you has changed so much now that I have accepted that you have left my body "Hank has left the womb". Sorry, but I'll probably have to explain that to you one day along with the songs from the 70's and 80's that I keep referring to. I don't feel empty per se but there is a place that you physically occupied that will never be the same. Now that you are adjusting to the outside world, my bond with you has a whole new meaning. While you are so dependent on me I want to be there - to stay connected to what you need and feel. To keep this connection takes amazing strength that sometimes I have to dig deep to find within - not out of lack of love but as I grow and explore the depth of my strengths and weaknesses I find new pools of power that have never been tapped.
I have to use these new resources to stay sane at times where I would have otherwise walked away as I so commonly do when tough times come along.

As you become independent, our connection will change again but for this moment my unwavering devotion stands firm. I am normally very afraid of this level of love. I know I am capable but I am unsure if I can express it so that you grow to be a secure, open minded man.
I am also realistic enough to know that there are no guarantees that either I will do a good job or that you will accept me. You are your own person already and I hope to never forget that and can guide you well.

I didn't have you without reason. I know I will learn from you probably more than you learn from me but believe me you have no better protector and cheerleader in life. When rough patches appear I'll be with you physically or cheering from the sidelines or even further back if you need room to grow ( that will be hard but it's necessary)
My connection to you is visceral, instinctual and life lasting. You are an extention of your daddy and me and we'll do our best. I don't mind spoiling you with love - is that even possible?

Here's the first pic of your smile that I could get - many more of these will be on the way few shure!

Thong Song

Nothing makes you sexy like being pregnant and granny panties. Slowly I'm getting back to normal with my attire. First, it was shoes. Got two new pair last week for work and I'm digging out my stilettos from the dusty box I packed way back in Nov. last year. Pregnancy will put you in orthopedics or flip flops in January and you won't even care. Not to mention your butt sagging because those nice stretchy waistband just don't stay up.

I've got 20 lbs left to lose before I'm back to pre-baby weight but the weight is in funny places so it's not like I can just go to the attic and pull out my bigger size clothes. My shirts don't fit due to bodacious tatas and pants don't fit because my belly hasn't quite shrunk enough - the arse and legs are fine just no belly room. Now I know how dunlaps happen now I just need to figure out WHY!

Back to the panties. I let my hot mess self go a bit as my panty size went up and up - panty lines meant nothing. I worried about the front of me, not the back. Of course, they didn't LOOK good but they meant absolutely nothing to me as I had bigger things to worry about like vienna sausage toes, early labor and CPR classes. So, now I should be worried about this faux pas since I have no visible excuse ( although I was just asked when I'm due by a woman in a shop but I had a maternity top on so she was excused and I let her head stay). Out came the thongs!! They felt kinda like when a guy puts them on for the first time and then realizes that the back part goes IN the crack - it don't just sit on top of it! But it was nice to know that my back side was at least within normal fashion limits.

Here is a really cute pic of why I let myself go a bit...

Hank Letter #2

Hank,
You are 6 wks old and you have changed so much! You've almost doubled your weight and are a big, healthy boy - the joke is that you are in 3-6 month clothes but it really is true this time. Daddy just used to get annoyed when other people would put a measure of their kid's worth based on what size clothes they were in - if that's the case then clearly I do have the best one!

You have found your hands and suck on them all the time - thank goodness cuz that gives me a break! ;D But you still don't sleep worth a hooey and I've rocked you till we fell asleep in the rocker and you pretty much slipped out of my arms - oops, sorry. I woke up just in time! You are your mother's son since I can rub on your little head and you just zone out and, if I get lucky, you'll conk out!

But you found music today and that made Mommy so happy. You actually perked up at Queen and Eva Cassidy so you have impecible taste! I'll continuously enlighen you with my iPod and make up songs. The latest is " When You're In Love With a Beautiful Baby" by Dr. Hook - pretty catchy if I do say so myself. Mommy and Daddy's song is "Never My Love" by the Association and the words apply to you too so it's our family song!

Grandmomma and Grandaddy are having a hoot with you and just laughing at your farts - you do it a lot and it keeps them entertained. We're easy. Grandaddy is already thinking of carting you around but I've made him wait till you are at least one or so before he takes off with you - he won't change a diaper so if you can't meet that minimum requirement then you can't take him out! But he means well and loves you so much! He calls you the " Little Creature" and just laughs and laughs

Shift change - gotta roll....

Immoral, Indecent or Just Plain Normal?

Hypocrite! That's what I feel like when I blog. I've come to find myself censoring these blogs out of fear. Plain and simple.

Fear that someone may think the topic too out there or TMI. But I have no problem with TMI; it's usually how I roll without embarrassment. A few things are sacred...like maxi pads. I can't seem to talk about them. I think there may be like 2 others but they escape me right now.

Put me in with a group of girls ( or guys who cares) and, at times, it can all just hang out. I don't even need wine like I do to dance. But I do have the decency to know my crowd and normally don't talk much until I've felt out the conversations for social cues and attitudes.

But my real issue is knowing what is off color or not parallel with my religious goals. Is it not acceptable to talk about body functions if you are a religious person? I bet Jesus farted. No really! It's not a sin to fart. But maybe he didn't make a big deal out of it and let it waft under the robes; it's natural so let the disciples figure out who dealt it ;D
Whatever the case, it doesn't lessen the respect and awe I have for him but why does it feel a little wrong?

Amongst other things:
Burping = funny , Va Jay Jays = funny , Me tripping = funny , Big mustaches= funny
Waxing = funny , Wardrobe Malfunctions= funny , Wieners = funny

But there are topics that are funny to me, hilarious really, that I'd love to write about so here goes. Beware and stop reading if you feel you need to.

How many people would have guessed that birth is deemed a sexual experience in some circles? That you are supposed to orgasm when your baby comes out?! My doula is affiliated with folks on The Farm ( I don't know wherel it's at but real live hippies congregate there and have lived communally since the 70's) and although she didn't mandate this it was just passed on to me how sexual birth can be for some ladies.
WHAT?!?
I didn't feel a molecule of sexual anything - not during contractions and certainly not during the birth process. It was like a dam out of body experience with pure function in mind - function being " GET THIS THING OUT!" I guess you are making some of the same noises as when you made it if you wanna get all technical about it but no...no urges of any kind ( eye roll)

And there can't be anything sexual about your boobs being as hard as those inertia balls people have on their desks. They may even make the klink noise if I were to let them hit together.

That's all I have time for tonight so I'll let loose another time - there is plenty where that came from

THAT Mom

Staying tied to the house can turn you into THAT mom. You know them. The ladies that have nothing else to talk about except their baby and ailments or funny stuff they do. Ding ding ding Danger Danger I must get out into the world as soon as humanly possible!

I'm torn about that though, believe it or not. This is a special time for my family; one that will pass and likely fade into my mind's background with each milestone. But what is a gal to do when she is so demon possessed that she cries most of the way through a desperate late night trip to Walmart? During that trip I was laughing at myself too - when I saw the box of Calgon " Take me away" bath crap I wanted to buy all of them OR just open a huge pack of powdered donuts and start stuffing them in my mouth. Oh yeah, and just dare someone to say something to me - good lord, I'll pay for them but I may not pick up the crumbs that I've littered all through the store. I'm picturing my head spinning to the side of the rabid werewolf with red eyes blazing and fangs dripping the blood of husbands that roll their eyes when the baby takes too much time to fall asleep...
I was gone for a whole hour and a half but when I got home my head had spun back to the normal one and my baby's face had gotten more beautiful...I swear it had! Daddy's didn't though - he's was pretty pissed at me but I can handle that one.

I need to get a laptop - I think of the best stuff at 3am. I can't remember any of it when I sit to gab - dang! My mind and memory are coming back but now it's filled with everything baby - I think this is evolutionary. He needs so much care right now that I think God and nature have made it possible to slow your other wants and desires until he gets a little more independent. Like sex. This is, no joke, the longest I've ever went without some sort of play action and while I was pregnant I thought like a spoiled teenager "omg, that's going to be so hard to wait 6 whole WEEKS! Ugh!"
Oh right, 5 weeks have gone by and we could care less. The only action my bed sees is us finally collapsing after having fallen asleep somewhere out in the hallway. I'm finding out that God gives you just what you need even if it is a smaller brain area for your wants ;D

Respect and Projectile Liquids

Never did I think that I wouldn't care about having vomit on me but now I understand that when it's YOUR kid it really doesn't matter when you know they don't feel good. I'll willingly take the hit. I'm a mom.

Hank gave us the full run down of liquids that can literally blow out of a little body last week. For a body so small, they pack quite a psi. Pee hitting your hard wood floor can sound like you've pointed a hose up in the air and let the water hit the pavement. And I actually laugh when it's just pee that I get on my hand; it seems to be the least of the liquids compared to the smelly or gooey ones.
But he has GI issues due to a reaction to cow milk protein expressed in my milk - not an uncommon problem but one that has a lot to endure to nail down. When he's screamed for two days straight and slept only in minute intervals it's hard to concentrate on any symptom in particular but I think we got it now. I'll have to restrict dairy from my diet and that's tough when you're already a vegetarian - oof.

AND I CAN LEAVE THE HOUSE NOW!! YEAH!!! I have to scream that since I have been tied to the house without Gary's help for 3 days. This really thrust motherhood on me but I made it... and he made it. And excellent words of wisdom and encouragement from Julie and other mothers that have been there done that and probably roll their eyes listening to me blather on knowing that this is relatively easy compared to what's to come ;D

From now on I vow to be more compassionate and thought forward. A mere 4 weeks has changed me profoundly as I remember not realizing what friends were going through and not being as much help as I could have been. I'd always heard that some days all you want is a shower or breakfast and now I KNOW that all I want is a shower and breakfast before noon - and that's being generous. I have journied into a new realm of respect for friends and mothers.

So, my boss ( who is a great guy BTW) asked me with great sincerity when I spoke about being a stay at home mom or part time work "So, what will you do with your time if you don't work?" OMG - if I'd had half a brain at that moment I would've said care for my kid! Where is all this "time" you speak of?? I have no knowledge of this "time"...

Speaking of time I witnessed how the passage of time changes people. BabyDaddy and I went to a small car event over the weekend and took Hank to his first car show! As he walked around carrying Hank, men came over and just gazed at him and his little feet poking out of the blanket. Almost every one of them told Gary that they remember their babies and that this one will be driving soon. Several of them had their teenage kids with them and you could just see their eyes go back in time to the most beautiful creature they had ever seen. Men love their babies even if they do things a little different and I hope I give Gary the freedom to be a Daddy.

Oh wait, I think I do that when I quickly hand Hank over to him right as he walks in the door from work...is that a bad thing??!

Singin' Songs and Stuff

Now that I have all that serious stuff written down I can start writing the fun stuff!
It's only been 3 weeks and I'm already amassing a repertoire of funny stories about my kid. His personality is peeking out and giving me little glimpses of what's in store for us later - and it's scary as hell! LOL

And he's making sure that I have plenty of ammo on him when he's in his teens and totally embarrassed to be with me. He'd better be careful or I'll tell the cute little stories about projectile poop or why he wasn't circumcised for a little while - kudos to Daddy he's little on the large side. Hey, don't look at me that's what the Dr. said!?

Poor Daddy has had to endure a lot so far. I was rocking him to sleep in our bed and out came a huge fountain of milk that splashed against Gary's naked back! I called it payback since he was the only member of the family that was actually sleeping at 3:45 am. Sympathy was hard to find at that hour so I stifled my evil giggle. heehee

Hank doesn't like pacifiers. He's a man holding out for the real deal. Commendable but annoying for Mommy. VERY early one morning I was just slightly trying to shove it in his mouth when he closed his eyes, pursed his lips together and lifted his brows as if to say "you can't force it so forget it and I don't care who you are". He was barely 2 wks old and I quickly realized what I'm dealing with here - a baby that knows exactly who he is, what he wants and how to get it. Great.

I do have to write about the time he smelled like BO. I only bathe him every other day cuz he doesn't get dirty really and it can dry his skin out but on the morning I was taking him to be circumcised I was feeding him and caught a strange whiff. Confused I investigated further. OK, now I know BO can't be possible on a baby but my kid's head smelled like onions! Wut tha? Come to find out he had slept in daddy's arm pit overnight and picked up his um...scent. Gasp! It was like he'd been marked or something. How many wipes did I have to use to get rid of that - only 2 but dang don't stink up my baby!

And the songs I can make up now - oh geez....but what rhymes with Hank? All I could think of was skank so I don't make up songs with his name. But I do my normal word replacement songs. So far it's Cheap Trick " I Want You to Want Me" changed to "I Want You to Hold Me" and Little River Band "Lady" changed to "Baby". And for some strange reason I started humming the guitar riff for Smoke on the Water to him....I don't know where that came from...

Unfortunately, there have been a couple of times that I lost my patience. Hank was fussy for hours and hours and hours and over tired and i lost it about 10:30pm. I was "touched out" meaning that I was tired of being touched since I am feeding every 2 hours and if he's fussy he wants to sit on me constantly. Both of which I could handle if he wasn't crying and I had more than 3 hours sleep. I rolled him off of me into Gary's arms and left the room. Mother's guilt slapped me in the face and I really felt bad because he's a sweet, wonderful baby boy and I love him. I have so much growing to do Hank so just be patient!

When he left the hospital Hank weighed 6lbs 11oz. At 3 wks and 2 days old this little joker weighs 9lbs 12oz!! And he's LONG, good lord, but just starting to get a double chin and cute little fat rolls. But he is by no means a fat baby just big and healthy and the reason my Dad coined the nickname for me of Swiss Miss - yep, they are big and productive. After a birth like he had, I'm just happy something natural is working right ;D

Doh, he's a callin' for me...gotta run!

Letters to Hank

I've been thinking over the past couple of weeks that I have to start writing to my new boy,Hank, while I can - I collectively got 7 hours of sleep last night so my fingers are actually agile enough to type and my brain fog has slightly lifted for coherency.

A brief rundown of how Hank was born is definitely in order (for guilt purposes later in life, of course) I labored at home using self hypnosis as pain management for 26 hours - 3:30am May 4th until 5:30am May 5th. Instinctively, I knew to get to the hospital asap at 5:30 and you should have seen the rush to get me out the door! Looking back it was hilarious; not quite like what you see in the movies but almost as bumbling! Luckily, all my stuff was already in the car but getting all the PEOPLE in it was the challenge. My mom doing her hair and stepdad just kind of running around, Gary trying to group everyone together and think of everything last minute and finally Me not giving a damn what anyone was doing. By that time, I was in "just get there!" mode so I was almost running down my basement stairs, towels in hand!

We made it in record time with my awesome doula in tow - Micky had been at my house since 7pm helping guide me, time contractions and keep Gary awake . Contractions were not pain free but I was still handeling them tolorably well as I got checked in and partnered with my L&D nurse that specialized in natural deliveries. I can't believe this but I was 9cm dilated when I arrived @ Cenntennial - almost ready to begin pushing! WOW, I could've had my kid at home or at least in the next hour or so but it was not to be. Long story short, I would spend the next 10 hours trying to naturally deliver a baby that would not engage down and was positioned incorrectly. He kept negating every push by popping back up out of my pelvis ( or as i like to say just causing a ruckus right from the start!) FINALLY, my body and, most importantly, my mind gave out. Hypnobirthing is not made to last that long and I was in distress - I felt like I was screaming but everyone tells me I was not. Time for an epidural STAT but I was dehydrated and an IV was irrationally hard to put in ( i'll leave out the details on that since it was messy so I hear) but I didn't even feel the epidural go in considering what had been going on.

OK so I didn't know what I was missing cuz that epidural kicked in and man, oh man, I tried even harder to get that child out. This went on for 2 hours before I finally felt pain in my back to tell me that he was positioned wrong. My L&D nurse was absolutely amazing trying everything she could before realizing that he just wasn't coming down and suggested a c-section before the baby was distressed. Blessed be that he was fine through all this - it was ME that wasn't!
I couldn't wait any longer so that's how he got here, 37 hours later, and now I thank the medical community for basically saving me and my baby. Little Hank was born with a dent above his forehead from being shoved up against my bones.

I haven't mentioned Gary in all this - he was so wonderful and helped out so much being there every step of the way. His support spoke volumes. Only later did I find out that his worry and tears were there too as the latter stages came our way.

And here I sit with a squirming little guy and a poopy diaper --- gotta go!!

Take me to your leader

My guts are going to pop out anytime now - Alien style.

For Amber Waves of Guilt

If there is anything I can't stand it's asking someone to do a task for me that I am normally responsible for - even if I don't get it done in someone else's time frame or to their satisfaction, I still have a responsibility to do it. And I've slipped a bit during my "confinement" ( I just love that 16th century word) due to my body's response to this pregnancy, not my brain's.

With Gary working so much, like 2 jobs, and missing a lot of hours transporting me to Dr. appointments, attending doula appointments, birthing classes, church duties, doing finances, - I have this raging guilt that something like household management has gone out the window. It isn't for Gary's lack of trying - he has been doing an excellent job with what he has time for and without complaint. I seriously mean that. But it's killing me to have to ask for help with jobs that are more of a time imposition for him; jobs that are in of themselves time consuming and a real drag. Saying the words "I can't do it" just isn't easy. I slipped into a guilt funk the other day and with a good, long cry I hope I've admonished the urge to do something as nonsensical as risk my health just to do laundry. I have, in the past, seriously tried to summon a laundry genie to take over the duty so what's my problem?!

My problem is that my end of the marriage bargain is changing and I am lost like a fart in a whirlwind. I can't ask him to do any more for me. Gestation shouldn't be a full time job but, in my case, it now takes up my whole day. It has taken me 2 weeks to fully rest - from work duties, from swiffering the floors, from doing just one load of laundry, from just cleaning the bathroom this one time, from decatfurring the couch. And I normally do not keep a spotless house!? Seriously, there are small pockets of chaos that make our house comfy for us but a dirty bathroom or unchanged sheets isn't one of them.

Luckily, checking my social sites is considered resting :D and I've never wished so bad for a laptop - even a decrepit one!

So, what will I be doing after this munchkin is born? I can't even venture to answer. But I do see a serious, and maybe a little painful, restructure of our household. This is one of those things that you rationally know but you don't really KNOW until the day you go " Oh, yeah...." and crinkle your nose up. But we have to do it, just like everyone else in the world that we originally thought we would never be like HA!

But in the meantime, "Be the queen you are" is how my Dr. put bed rest. That's just not me since I think I have to earn what I get; nothing comes to me without work or management or SOMEthing. I'd make a terrible Queen and will always be a worker bee.

Gooder than...

Here's something you don't hear everyday when you just ask a stranger how they are doing:
"Better than snuff and gooder than taters." OR "Better than snuff and a third less dusty."

WHAT??
Not to be judgmental or anything but I'm not sure the speaker would even know what a third of anything is much less taking a mental measure of their snuff dust and calculating a fraction of it.
And what is snuff dust? I guess I don't know what snuff even is so I'll wikipedia it in a minute. I just know that stuffy, entitled ladies take a little and try to be all sly about getting a buzz like they are somehow immune to the temptation of a short lived high. At least they do on Andy Griffith.

But it must be just ok if there is a phrase that has a snuff user as a reference point for feeling good. Society has gravitated from any discretion and instead choose a more balls out high, you know, like meth. "My teeth fell outta my head but dang I feel great!"

I only meet the occasional pot head now but that's about the simplest drug form I can think of that is classified as a "drug". Sure kids drink cough syrup or huff on glue ( shoot, I'll take a wiff of a Sharpie when it opens) but real drugs seem to have an exposure hierarchy with pot at the bottom tier. Unless, I've been out of the loop for a while a kids go straight for hard dope.

My BFF and I were talking today about some of the things we lived through during our almost 20 years as constants and the drug topic has us the most amazed. We hung out with some pretty seedy (i don't even know another word for some of them) but good hearted folks, back in the day, and participated in many a premeditated nogoodness but when hard drugs came into the group, looking back, I am kinda proud of us. We would just look around, find each other's face and know to leave - automatic, no regrets about being uncool. I always had the thought that I had too much to lose, even if I didn't know what it was yet. I don't remember exactly what she was thinking but it must have been similar. We just left and found some other haunt to occupy where the company was as divey as we were ;D The song " Friends in Low Places" is coming to mind. There are many a good folk and comraderie in low places. And you don't really have to have low standards, well, ok, yeah ya do. You just know not to wear your best shoes and hover when you use the ladies (nevermind that mustache) room.
Even now I can feel a bit uncomfortable in posh atmospheres if I'm not in the right mood - gimme a beer, a bowl of stale chips and a wood floor and I'm fine...

Anti Spring Chickens UNITE!

Now that I have all the time in the world I have no excuse not to blog; other than sitting makes my back hurt and I kind of cringe at the thought of having to sit here in my substandard chairs to write. Really I have very few complaints about being pregnant but the few are big and obnoxious and make a difference to my standard of comfort.

Creating a human is not for wussies just like raising said human is not for the faint of heart. Here towards the end I have made a homemade body oil to help with dry skin, the main oil being olive oil. I grease my belly up and smell like a gourmet tapenade. I bet if I walked downtown all the Italians would turn and look seductively my way (like we have so many in Nashville!). Now that I think of it, I wish we had sections of town like Chinatown or Little Italy – I miss that about Florida and loved it about NYC. I could buy all the fake bags and amazing risotto I wanted! Stereotypes exist for a reason, right?
I’ve totally digressed from the topic here… I’ll risk smelling bad or being an Italian Pied Piper to not get stretch marks. Not a problem!

Hmmmm, what else? Oh yeah, getting tangled in blankets when I sleep. Poor Gary wakes up with a cold butt pretty often because I’ve gotten my legs all discombobulated and I can’t escape! I have to elevate my top half cuz I’m breathing heartburn fire, try to stay on my left side AND roll over countless times a night. Puleez. Just get your own covers cuz I’m trapped in a cotton octopus over here.

I’m pretty excited now though – we have maybe 7 weeks left. We have the necessities and are physically ready for this little thing to appear. My doctor is hoping he/she will be ready sooner and is limiting my activities so you may notice a pychosis creep into my blogs as my brain gets bored and atrophies. Gary grows ‘em big and apparently my frame is small. I don’t ever feel small but she’s said it over and over…whatever. But some days I don’t feel so good and can be a bit anemic. I actually have to remember that I’m 36 now and like Aunt Bee said “No spring chicken anymore”.

My BFF and I have decided to be the Anti Spring Chickens. She will always be a cougar though which makes me realize the danger of my situation!

And you cannot handle...Pressure!

Two life altering events for anyone are getting married and having kids and boy, if you want to hear people's opinions on what you should be doing...do either of these. I catch myself doing it too but sharing experiences is how we relate to each other. This is an ancient human tendancy and one that, for the most part, I love about us. Until.....the person telling the experience crosses into persuasive mode and the listener is really expected to act as the teller.

This is why I flew to Vegas to get married. Yes, it was a second marriage and doesn't seem to carry as much street cred to persuaders, but a wedding nonetheless. Now, 6 years later, I feel it again. A tiny spark of apology for what I want to do if it flies in the face of convention.

Don't get me wrong here; my perception is not that I am always misunderstood. We never really know how people see us, they don't tell you every other day. But when I examine my motivations for my actions (which sounds like I just sit around and think about myself - but who else can I analyze and change!) and then my perception of how others view those actions, I remember phrases or comments that others say and it makes me a bit anxious.

I have family that still think I get tattoos at 35 to defy my parents. Really now. Have you ever spoken with me? And sometimes I'm not that good at getting my point across either so whose to say that what they think isn't my fault? People asked my why I skated on a roller derby league and I'm sure my real motivations didn't come through. Or get my motorcycle license. A lady at church told me to grow up with that one...and that kinda hurt actually. I'm really not the show off that I'm feeling is coming through by what I do in my life. I have goals and challenges to overcome, that's it!

And why does the pressure to conform to surrounding standards still exist even at my age?! I naively thought that it would pass when I gained some credibility based on my decisions and actions. I'm seeing that conformity is a constant force for everyone. We do it to a certain degree, tangent off to what we want to do for a while, then come back hopefully before someone notices we've been gone and we don't look weird or something. Thus, staying nicely moderate.

All this babbling has been prompted by my pregnancy (well, not all, I've thought about it before). Birth stories are extremely personal and an extensive network of female identity. That's why everyone wants to tell you theirs, mostly unsolicited, and no nightmare spared. Nothing says welcome to the club like stories of epidurals gone wrong or butchery "down there" but how it's all worth it in the end. I was privledged enough to attend and help with the birth of a super good friend's baby, Camren, and it was spectacular, beautiful and enlightening. Can you see my confused face?

My birth plan will be different, and there is my spark of apology. I surprised myself by sounding apologetic when telling my OB and Gary, the 2 people that shouldn't judge this whole process! I received reassurance that I'm not just trying hard to be different and I am forever grateful. My plan is that I will let go and trust my body and God. HE made this experience and it's up to me to let HIM do his job. No fear of pain. And certainly no defiance.