Lucy The Valiant

“Now you are a lioness…”

Dream, Baby December 2, 2008

Filed under: Ariel, McLovin Hound, mamma and kanga madness, pregnancy — lucythevaliant @ 1:04 am

I found my camera today! I had left it at school. So now I can take pictures of the delicious puppy goodness! But I cannot put them on my blog, no, because I still can’t find that cable thing that connects the camera to the computer. Because it is somewhere in the office stuff, and I’m not really doing the office, Joey is. Until the advent of our SECOND child (as in, the one after this one. We have to have at least two, but really we want more. We think. Hypothetically.) the office is a Man Room. Joey was disappointed that the family room is the family room, and not a Man Room, so this makes it a little better. Mostly because I am generous and compromising like that, but partially because there are some serious wallpaper problems with the office room, and I don’t want to deal with them. But anyway, yes, no pictures on the computer.

And that is sad, because being cute and photogenic are nearly the only things McLovin has going for her these days. I hate to complain about her, because there is that nagging voice in my head that keeps reminding me how much more challenging a HUMAN BABY will be, and also that you can’t put those in handy wire kennels when they get out of hand, so I should get over it. But I know a lot more about training a child than I do about training a puppy, honestly. A degree in Early Childhood Education does not a good parent make, but I bet it helps a little. Or else, I will become much more sympathetic when interacting with parents.

 

I’m still having so much anxiety about the prospect of parenting. Not labor, because I already KNOW that it is going to hurt, particularly without medication, so there’s no point dwelling on it. Probably I can make the exact same statement about parenting and be pretty accurate! But I am still anxious. Last night I dreamed that Joey and I were balancing baby care and summer school teaching schedules, but it was all too abstract for me to really focus on. I have no concept of how teaching and mothering are going to coexist, and neither does my subconscious. I guess I’ll have to let God handle it, or something crazy like that.

 

I WOULD like to have a nice, concrete dream about Ariel, though. The only one I have had, she was a very small fetus who had no business being outside my womb. Which I was calmly pointing out to her in the dream. It was very distressing. I would really love to have a dream where she is a yummy, full-term, properly birthed baby, where I can SEE her. Kanga has. Actually, Kanga had quite the dream encounter with my Ariel.

Before Joey and I started dating, around three years ago, Kanga had just started chemotherapy treatments for her second battle with breast cancer. She’d had it before when she was very young… 28 or somewhere around there, I think. And she was worried that she would die this time, as was everyone else. Then one night she had a very vivid, realdream where she was sitting at her table, holding her chubby baby granddaughter on her lap. The baby had curly blonde hair, and was wearing pink overalls, and Kanga knew that God was telling her that she would live to see her granddaughter. When she woke up, she knew that she was going to beat breast cancer again, and she did. She also knew that Ariel was going to be a girl, even though my vote was for boy. And so I have to buy some little pink overalls for my dream baby. Who is already starting out life with some seriously positive energy! Now if her MOTHER could just let go of her fears…

 

I Don’t Think You’re Ready For This Jelly November 30, 2008

Filed under: Ariel, self-absorbed rambling, silly newlyweds — lucythevaliant @ 4:15 pm

Ironically, after writing that post yesterday, I spent most of the remainder of the day in bed with a truly miserable migraine. I had a much worse one last week… so bad that I had the whole vision loss and vomiting-from-the-horrible-pain thing going on. And yet I still had to spend the day listening to the cable guys drill holes in my house (and my BRAIN, I’m pretty sure) and then go ‘do door’ at one of Joey’s basketball games, and then go eat with the team until after eleven at night. Oh, the travails of being a coachs’ wife! Woe is me!

So I totally took the opportunity yesterday to have a migraine AND do absolutely nothing. Because it might be a lousy way to spend a vacation day, but it beats having a migraine and, say, teaching middle school all day long! Seriously, the most useful thing I did all day was stick some taquitos in the oven for our lunch. And pronounced them ta-KEY-toes. Because apparently my mother raised me to pronounce them wrong, and I have sounded like a doofus, going around saying ta-KWI-toes for the past 24 years. Fortunately, I have Joey to help me out with these things. And to laugh hysterically and gasp, “Do you say ‘I got bit by a mos-KWI-toe’ too?”

It might hurt my feelings, if it came from anyone other than the man who thought jams and jellys were called ‘preservatives’. As in this conversation from last night:

Joey: “Lets stop by Wal-Mart so I can get some bacon and preservatives.”

Lucy: “What? Preservatives? Huh?”

Joey: “Yeah, like strawberry jelly or plum jam… which one do you want?”

Lucy: “I don’t care-no, strawberry jelly sounds good. But you mean PRESERVES.”

Joey: “Preserves, preservatives… what’s the difference?”

Lucy: “Preservatives are like, chemicals they put in food to make it last a long time. Preserves are preserved fruits and berries.”

Joey: “Preserves.”

Lucy: “Right.”

Joey: “Also, it could be a branch of the military. Like, ‘I serve my country.’ ‘Oh, what branch?’ ‘The Preserves.’”

Lucy: “Saving the world, one jar of jelly at a time.”

Joey: “AND there is also the Reservatives.”

Lucy: “I hear they’re tougher than the Marines!”

Ariel: “18 more years of this AND I’m inheriting genes from these people?? Kick! Smash! Rawr!”

 

 

And that is Saturday night in my world. That, and eating bacon and eggs and toast in bed while watching Lost until two in the morning. Neither of us ever followed it, so we’re having a lot of fun getting caught up together. In spite of my general feelings of, WHAT THE HECK? STOP KILLING PEOPLE OFF!!

We’re nearly done with Season 3, which, the Blockbuster guy told us last night, is great timing. Because Season 4 is coming out in a few days, and thank goodness, because I don’t know what I would do without some more Lost to watch, I really don’t.

 

And now it is time to pay up for my day of sloth and indolence. It is Sunday, and tomorrow will begin the last two weeks of school before Christmas Break. So in addition to wrapping up some stuff around the house, we need to head up to the school and work on lesson plans and decorate our classrooms for Christmas and things like that. And thanks to the miracle of Tylenol and being incredibly lazy for 24 hours or so, I think I’m up for it! I feel the urge to make a list. And another list! Pull the thing! And-that other thing! No more rhymes now, I mean it!”

 

You get points for being cool if you can finish that (sort of) quote. Go ahead! It’s easy! Or maybe I’m just a really big dork!

 

Time Zones November 29, 2008

Filed under: pregnancy, silly newlyweds, we live in a house? Like grown ups? — lucythevaliant @ 5:40 pm

We have really devoted this break to getting our new house “put together”…. which I thought might prooooobably be secret married-people code for “mind numbing torture.” But it isn’t! We have been having so much fun!

 

A lot of this probably has to do with the fact that we are finally starting to get each other’s internal clocks. Because they are VERY DIFFERENT, and have led to many, many arguments in the past two years.  Joey is one of those night owl people who, if left to his own devices, would probably stay up until four A.M. or so, and then sleep until two in the afternoon. Just thinking about this schedule gives me a headache. He also does not like the process of waking up, no matter how long he has slept. He does not like it on a train, he does not like it in the rain. HE DOES NOT LIKE IT! Joey needs several warnings before he is forced to get up, and then a minimum of an hour before his pleasant Joey personality joins us.

 

I, on the other hand, am a morning person. Even though this past week has been a school break, I’ve been getting up without an alarm, around six every morning. Because I wake up! And then I might as well get up! And then I might as well DO STUFF! Part of this is my natural personality, part of it is the fact that around six A.M. it is very, very likely that either McLovin or I will be in desperate need of a potty break. But I have always loved mornings, and when I open my eyes, I am AWAKE. I hit snooze because alarms are rude, and they seem so bossy that people ought to ignore them. Like “mandatory fun” (how I hated that phrase in college!!!) or “required reading”. But this is because I am stubborn and obstinant, not sleepy. Although, once four in the afternoon hits, I am usually fantasizing about a nap. I love naps.

 

Out of self-preservation and love, Joey and I have limited our interaction with each other in the mornings. I get up at 5:30 on school days, get ready, and wake him up (several times) at 6:15. He rolls out of bed, stumbles around for a few minutes, and then we leave in silence. He drops me off at our school, where I eat breakfast and then do all of my grading and planning and cleaning and copying in early-morning, no-one-is-here-to-bother-me bliss. I LOVE my mornings. And Joey goes to class, where I assume he wakes up about halfway through lecture, then stops back home to change clothes and clean up before coming to school for the day. And sometimes if I’m really nice, I have microwaved some breakfast burritos for him. And sometimes if he is really nice, he brings me coffee from McDonalds. And we touch base about our days and our students, and all is happy in Newlywed Land.

 

The few times we have deviated too much from this routine, you hear a lot of “I never knew you were such a JERK” and “Why are you being so annoying? Leave me alone! It’s EARLY!!”

We find that it is best to respect the routine.

 

Weekends and school holidays have been more of a problem, and we would get VERY annoyed with each other. But this Thanksgiving break, we have been working this whole nocturnal/diurnal dilemma. I get up early and take care of the puppy, and work on my house-y projects all morning, and blog. He wakes up around eleven, gets up around noon with personality in place, and we eat breakfast/lunch. We run errands and work on joint projects until around three, when I get tired and take a nap. Then he keeps working and fantasy sportsing until around five, when I get up and we have dinner and spend time together. Then I’m usually ready for a bath (and in the case of last night, a heavenly massage!) and bed around ten, and Joey is kicked into high gear and works on his projects until one in the morning or so.

 

It has been so nice! It does not an interesting blog post make, but I’m enjoying how we aren’t making each other crazy over all of these home-imrovement projects and free time.

 

And in a somewhat sleep-related segue, my ribs hurt so bad night before last that I woke up CONVINCED that the baby had somehow gotten her head stuck between two of them. I’m not very logical at three in the morning. Or very caring either, apparently. Since I rolled over and went back to sleep.

 

Highlights of Thanksgiving November 28, 2008

Filed under: Ariel, McLovin Hound, pregnancy, silly newlyweds — lucythevaliant @ 4:40 am

In bullet point form, because I am weak with that turkey chemical that makes you all sleepy and languid.

  • Getting up at 5:00 AM for NO REASON AT ALL and getting an insane amount of nesting-type stuff done.

 

  • Making those “special” and “different” sweet potatoes (that are sweet!) and feeling soooo proud of myself. Until I realized that they were hopelessly ruined, for reasons unknown.

 

  • Not crying even a little big over the stupid potatoes. Making a valiant effort to salvage them, but deciding that it would be kinder to come empty-handed than to force people to politely choke them down.

 

  • Being an hour late because Joey decided he was tired of showing up on time and being forced to wait for everyone else. Only, we were THE LAST ONES THERE and they started without us. But mostly I put aside my terrible need to be on time for EVERYTHING, because hey, it’s his family. As long as they don’t think I made him late with sad failed attempts at cooking, then no big deal. Right??

 

  • I seriously hate being late.

 

  • But I looked cute, at least.

 

  • Delicious food cooked by competent adults… a nice change from how Thanksgiving would be if I ran it!

 

  • A shocking amount of naughty words and off-color jokes for such a seemingly upstanding group.

 

  • Laughing entirely too hard for my poor, pushed-out ribs to handle.

 

  • Sharing a chair with Joey the whole time and snuggling.

 

  • Having the encouraging point made many, many, many  times that “parenting skills” are a joke! Ha ha! And children will pop out just how they are, and that’s that, missy!

 

  • Sidestepping any debate on childhood development and ed psych by stating that I won’t need any parenting skills… Ariel will be naturally perfect just like me.

 

  • Being assured by a 97 year-old relative that I shouldn’t worry, the baby has a good chance of taking after my side and not these hooligans. At least, I THINK she said hooligans. Something to that effect.

 

  • Hearing spirited debate over who did or did not ‘poot’. I believe this was around the time of the hooligans comment.

 

  • Going home and taking a nap while my darling husband finished putting together the dresser. And installed the new towel rack and toilet paper holder in the bathroom. Because he is awesome, even though he put the toilet paper holder at a very bizarre angle.

 

  • Kicking off the Christmas season (because you CAN NOW, people. You WAIT until Thanksgiving is over, and THEN DO CHRISTMASY STUFF!!!) by going to see Four Christmases with Joey. My date was super cute. The movie… meh. It wasn’t really a Christmas movie… or a good movie… the best I can say is it had some gratuitously adorable babies in it, and a few funny lines. But it wasn’t even really a wait-for-DVD-movie.

 

  • Twisting around in agony during two thirds of the movie because MY RIBS! OUCH! AM NOT PROPORTIONED FOR CHILDBEARING!

 

  • Thinking ahead a few weeks to Christmas Break plans!!

 

  • Coming home to find that McLovin (who can hold it all night, as long as Joey goes to bed late and I get up very early) had irrigated her kennel during the two hours we were gone. Including the fleecy poofy dog bed that she LOVES and that I had just washed. So its back in the washer, and she’s currently feeling very sorry for herself… so excited that we came back home, only to get a spanking and a lecture, be put BACK in the kennel in disgrace, and to top it off - no bed, just that wimpy blanket. If I knew where my camera was, I would put the world’s SADDEST picture of HORRIBLY ABUSED beagle puppy on here. She is currently shivering pitifully and imploring me with her eyes to just spare one farthing so she can buy a lump of coal to warm this miserable night. JUST ONE? PLEASE? HAVE A ‘ART, KIND LADY?

 

  • But I have no heart. Am made of ICE. Will totally be arguing that she feels properly chastised and is very sorry and will never, ever do it again, in about five minutes, with the Alpha Dog of the family.

 

  • And that is Thanksgiving.
 

What I Am Thankful For… November 27, 2008

Filed under: mamma and kanga madness, silly newlyweds, we live in a house? Like grown ups? — lucythevaliant @ 12:35 pm

I think that, with the obsessive organizing and cleaning and OMG everything has to be scrubbed or replaced or painted STAT! we can safely say that I’m nesting. I think this is a little further than I would usually take things. Which is good, because it just makes sense to scrub, replace, or paint everything now, before Ariel gets here. The real beauty of it, though? Is the fact that my husand is nesty right there with me!

 

I mentioned this to Kanga the other day, and she nodded. “It’s my fault. I always had him doing projects with me when he was little.” I don’t know about fault, but I will totally give her credit for it. She is the most crafty, thrifty, artsy woman that has ever lived.

 

And it is thanks to her that I have a husband who pulled into the driveway yesterday and said, “I love having a house. What do you want to get done on it today, babe?” And then hung curtains, lifted sundry heavy things for me, re-arranged the furniture in the family room no less than four times because I wouldn’t  be satisfied with it, and promised to get up bright and early today to assemble our new dresser from IKEA.

Kanga came over the other day to show him how to install a new light fixture in the bathroom (the old one defies description. Or sanity.) and now that he knows how, he’s going to replace the one in the dining room, too. Even though he thinks the chandelier that I picked out at IKEA (This blog post brought to you by IKEA! Apparently.) is ugly and cheap-looking. I maintain that it is pretty, and costs $40, which makes it look perfectly fine until the day when I can afford to buy one of those $200 chandeliers at the boutique down the road.

And he breaks out the leaf blower and the hedge trimmer while insisting that I take a nap.

And he is hot.

And he tells me at random intervals throughout the day that I am beautiful or adorable, or some variation thereof. When in reality I am being whiny and/or bratty, and have not bothered to brush my hair all day.

 

You could safely say that I am thankful for my husband. I hope I am thankful for every minute of time that we have together, because each one is a gift.

 

And now I must go clean out my kitchen again. Because we got the family room COMPLETELY DONE* last night, at the expense of several kitchen counters, and I need to be able to find my way around so I can cook my offering of sweet potatoes for today’s family meal at Gran’s. And please rid your mind of all yammy, marshmallow-y images. My sweet potatoes are different. Or as my adored husband put it, “Oh, yeah, those potatoes. They were sweet.” We have had no end of jokes from this (because we don’t get out much!) about potatoes! That are strangely sweet! And also orange! Now I’ve seen EVERYTHING!

 Which is probably what the Pilgrims said on the first Thanksgiving, right? I thought so.

 

 

Happy Thanksgiving!

*Except hanging pictures and such, the curtains for one window, putting the DVDs away, getting Joey’s Big Daddy TV repaired and set up, cleaning the carpet (that has already been professionally cleaned, but obviously, if you want something done right…), getting the fireplace looked at and working, and collapsing into a quivering heap of gelatinous ooze because dear sweet Lord, it will NEVER END!!

 

Oh Yeah, I’m Pregnant (How Do I Keep Forgetting That?) November 26, 2008

Filed under: Ariel, Maya: cat of doom, McLovin Hound, pregnancy — lucythevaliant @ 6:56 am

This morning (yesterday morning?)  we had another midwife appointment… one with the blood glucose screening or whatever that is where they make you drink what is apparently the syrup part of orange soda and then steal your preshus blood.

 

I. Do not. LIKE. Needles.

 

But I totally  sucked it up today. Am a big girl, after all.

 

And then I crashed as soon as we got home, which is why I’m wide awake NOW. But I was so annoyed! Because I? Am dumb. And bad at being pregnant.

Remember  that whole emergency trip to the midwifea while ago? And how it was NOTHING, and everything was FINE and I felt all silly? I took that experience very much to heart, because I hate drama and I hate feeling silly. And so I spent a few days last week ignoring what were apparently multiple symptoms of freaking pre-term labor, because God forbid I make a scene and feel silly. I was blithely relating to the midwife how everything was great! I feel great! I’m sure glad that the baby moved out of that weirdo position she was in for a few days last week, cause it kind of hurt a lot! And felt like she was going to fall out when I walked upright! Back pain? Sure, but only for a month or so! No big! Because I don’t freak out! I am level-headed, baby!

 

Ahem.

 

Fortunately, my cervix is still closed, just softening. I’m supposed to not exercise anymore, which is funny, because I haven’t been exercising AT ALL and also because usually I get a big Midwifey Lecture about the importance of an active pregnancy. She started asking me about “working full time” and “needing rest if this happens again” but I headed her off with Christmas Break! It will be here soon and I will totally rest then! Because so help me, if people start talking bed rest when there is still work to be done and young’uns to be learned, my head will explode. The End.

 

In other weird pregnancy news, I had officially gained one pound, but I lost it. I’m calculating this by my pre-pregnancy weight, which granted, had some extra chub. Which I lost entirely through the miraculous diet known as the First Trimester of Doom. So I am now back to what I weighed before I was pregnant, although it is proportioned very differently, and I’m still wearing regular old jeans even though I’m six months along. Am weird. I read today that the average woman gains 11 pounds during the third trimester. So if I miraculously started gaining weight like an average woman, I will have gained….11 pounds during my whole pregnancy. And this makes me think I should probably eat something! Only, there is no ROOM for food in there. There is no room for other silly things, such as my ribcage or lungs either! Only room for Ariel, with her strangely long leg bones and wooshy-woosh-woosh heartbeat.

 

Ariel, who is currently winning the world’s longest running game of hide-and-seek. I knew early on that she was very active, what with feeling her kicking even though the midwife said I wasn’t, and the way people had to chase her around my stomach with Doppler or sonogram wands. Joey got to feel her move pretty early on, but then she found a fun new game! We call it Kick Like a Rabid Squirrel In a Bag Until Someone Else Tries To Feel, Then Freeze! The grandmothers are not amused. I can lay my own hands on my stomach, and feel her just fine, but the instant anyone else touches me, she stops. Every. Single. Time. The rare occasions where I have a hard time falling asleep because of baby activity, I just put Joey’s hand on my stomach and voila!

 

The only family member who seems exempt from this game is McLovin. Who was innocently snoozing on my tummy, minding her own business, when her floppy little head got shoved from within, pretty hard. She deserved it, though. Just ask Maya.

 

The Saga Continues November 25, 2008

Filed under: McLovin Hound, pregnancy, silly newlyweds, we live in a house? Like grown ups?, what a bookworm — lucythevaliant @ 1:27 pm

Okay, again, not dead. But we are all MOVED people. Into a HOUSE. We spend our time now doing things like replacing all the handles on the kitchen cabinets and painting miles and miles of trim. Although, do not be fooled. ‘Moved’ is a word which here means ‘forcibly and abruptly relocated with very poor planning and absolutely no organization.’ It bears NO relation whatsoever to the word ‘unpacked’. Two weekends ago we woke up on a Saturday morning and had absolutely not one teeny-tiny little thing packed up in our apartment. And by Sunday afternoon we had moved every last one of our posessions and cleaned the apartment very thoroughly. I know. Why do I do this to myself? I was totally blogging it in my head the whole time so I wouldn’t start beating myself over the head with a frying pan. Which of course, is doomed to that Saved Draft Archive of my brain, since our computer stayed imprisoned in a high impenetrable fortress of random junk for two weeks since. This completely lame blog revived thanks to Joey, who rescued the computer and set it up on a desk all pretty-like. And more grudgingly, thanks to the Time Warner Cable guys. Since the sweet, sweet Internets are back in my life once more, even though it took you SEVEN HOURS and you left a cable dangling strangely against the outside of my house.

More importantly, though! It is our Thanksgiving Break right now, and we have a blessedly long break which we are devoting to nesting. Yesterday? We spent a lot of time at IKEA together? And did not argue even a little bit. I know. We almost got kicked out of IKEA for annoying all of the normal people with our “holding hands” and “flirting”.

Also more importantly! Last Friday Joey woke up and was stricken by OMG We Are Grown-Ups With A House And All. To celebrate the complete upheaval and chaos of the stupid, stupid way we chose to move, the fact that we have a BABY coming in three months, and…I don’t know what else, those two sound like enough to me, he decreed that we must now have a dog. I kind of thought he was joking until we were driving out to the middle of nowhere to look at puppies on some farm (which did not exist, actually, even though it was TOTALLY there when he got a dog in 7th grade) but he was NOT. And then I got on board the puppy train, because lately I have been feeling really freaked out about this whole impending motherhood deal, and I realized that I need to stop whining and worrying and just say BRING IT ON, chaos. Because no, I will never have my life perfectly calm and ordered and drama-free. And also because PUPPY! Yum! Squish!

Her name is McLovin (ha ha, no it isn’t, not even close, but that would be awesome, and she is for sure cool enough to have a blog alias) and she is the most cutest beagle puppy in the history of time, and I will put up pictures as soon as we unearth the camera. Currently she is eating a pair of my underwear from the clean laundry mountain (don’t ask. I couldn’t just unpack the clothes. No. I had to wash ALL of them and then sort them and then organize the closets by season, and… nesting is not for sissies.) and I am letting her, because the lace on those underwear was uncomfortable and I was going to toss them anyhow, and better them than any of Joey’s Mysterious Electronic Cable-y Things.

And now I have to go convince myself to do productive things, and not hide in bed with Eclipse to take my mind off the fact that I can’t eat anything because of stupid glucose screening test thing. And how perfect is my timing, by the way? I’ve gone all this time only vaguely aware of the existence of the Twilight series and how it is supposed to be so wonderful. And I finally and randomly pick up the first book and fall madly in love the day before the movie comes out. Joey took me to see the movie in one of those “Only because I love you” gestures, and ended up becoming very into the plot and somehow guessing about things that don’t happen until the second book. Although he did say that Edward looked like a mime.

 

Excuses, Gallows Humor, and Vermin, Oh My! October 26, 2008

Filed under: Ariel, pregnancy, silly newlyweds, we live in a house? Like grown ups? — lucythevaliant @ 3:45 pm

OMG has it really been a MONTH since I’ve written in this blog??? It has. I lose. This has been one of those months, and this blog has been one of my personal indulgences that has been set aside in deference. Because it was either blogging or brushing my teeth, and I’m actually kind of obsessive about my teeth, what with the anxiety-ridden teeth falling out dreams, and the weirdo bleeding gums of pregnancy, and I think I have cavities cause it HURTS to chew anything remotely sweet. So yeah, I didn’t pick blogging. And I will now give you my reasons in bullet points (but I still feel like a jerk, especially if you have commented, because this blog is a lonely, nerdy new girl in the highschool of blogging, and…yeah. I’m a jerk. With minty clean breath.)

  • Unexpected and out-of-state death in Joey’s family
  • Emergency visit to midwife DURING SCHOOL HOURS
  • We are moving
  • On the first of November
  • Into a  house which needs much cleaning and painting and such
  • School reports are due soon
  • We still have, you know, classes to teach
  • Also, I’m pregnant
  • And there are many school activities beyond the realm of school hours.
  • Not to mention all those pesky things for basic survival like grocery shopping and paying bills
  • And we stupidly rented the first season of Lost, so that MUST be viewed at all possible spare moments.

 

For the more adventurous reader, I will now elaborate:

Item Number One: Joey’s aunt died very suddenly and unexpectedly, riding her bike like she does every day. She wasn’t hit by a car, she just… fell. No one really knows how or why exactly. She fell and hit her head, and went into a coma. It feels like the horribleness of this is compounded by the randomness of it. I don’t mean random in a flippant ‘that’s so random’ kind of way. I mean it seems truly senesless and unpredictable, and that is frightening. When Joey’s mother called and was telling him, I knew from his face and voice that something bad had happened. My mind went immediately to the very young and the very old of his family, the people you think to worry about. Not the strong and tireless aunt who took care of everyone and went about her business with what always struck me as a very practical affection.

So we’ve had some weeks of clinging to each other very closely. Because even though we know nothing is REALLY senseless and random, that there is a pattern and a purpose to all things, we were very forcefully reminded that the pattern is invisible, and we have no concept of what it may actually be.

We drove up and spent the weekend with his family, not as much time as we would have liked. And I cried the whole time, even though I didn’t know her terribly well. But no one was unkind enough to point that out to me because I am pregnant and can cry whenever I want. I did like her, very much, but the majority of my tears were for her husband. I can think of nothing worse than to be in his place. And for my husband and immediate family-in-law, because it hurt to see the people I love so sad and bewildered.

However, humor we have with us always. I was horrified, but relieved that the rest of the family found this as morbidly funny as I did. The poor, very, very, very old minister who was supposed to be delivering an “Inspirational Message” at the memorial service started off with: “We have to accept the fact that she is dead. D-E-A-D dead. And when someone dies, they don’t come back. They’re gone.” I thought he might be building to a point, but it was actually all downhill from there. It was awful. But educational. None of us will ever forget how to spell ‘dead’. He went on to eulogize his own dear wife, who had died recently, to discuss conjugal relations with said wife that NO ONE wanted to think about, La La LA, to spend twenty minutes reciting and explaining the poem “Oh Captain, My Captain”, and said repeatedly that he was all done, that he had been trained to ‘get up, speak up, and shut up’ when preaching. No one could be mad at him - he obviously did mean for it to be inspirational- and it was entirely too ludicrous to get upset about anyway. The family had spent two hours remembering her well and fully, and so it seemed like the only thing left to do was turn this into a kind of dark family joke.

 

Item Number Two: THE BABY IS FINE. Just to get that cleared up. The day we found out that Joey’s aunt had was not going to come out of her coma, I had a bit of cramping and bleeding, and also felt very light-headed and hot. The school nurse suggested I call my midwife, who very responsibily bullied me into coming to the office. Only, it was a school day! And I don’t like to leave my class! And surely it could wait till school let out! She was not convinced. This stress, added to being upset over Joey’s aunt, led to me sobbing dramatically in the girl’s bathroom, which is not at all private, and I HATE, LOATHE, DESPISE making big dramatic scenes and upsetting people, WRITHE A LITTLE IN MY SOUL when I think about it, actually. But everyone was very, very kind to me, and I went to the midwife, and everything was FINE and it hasn’t happened since, and my class did not self-destruct with me gone for a few hours out of the day.

 

Item Number Three:

Joey’s great-grandmother moved herself into assisted living (which, for all the world, reminds me of the very upscale dorms at my college. Hopefully without the streaking) and we are renting her house. A sweet, old house in a quite and established neighborhood full of mamoth trees and other sweet old houses. Joey’s great-grandparents lived there for longer than he’s been alive, and he has tons of memories there, which makes it very cool to be bringing the next generation into it. Later I will write a very sentimental, hormonal post about this, but for now I am focused on the cleaning and painting and such. Because:

 

Beneath this dated wall paper and delicious potential lies THIS:

 

Am I the only one who hears shrieking violin music when viewing this? I didn’t think so. Also there are roaches, and you know how I feel about them. And mice. And possibly rats, and my mother told me a harrowing story of rats chewing off newborn’s fingers, and oh my God, call the exterminator! Now! Call him! And there is plenty of just…grime, I guess you would call it. And NO ONE WILL LET ME PAINT! So instead I scrub baseboards with vinegar water and a toothbrush, practice finding a happy place when encountered with any ookiness, and focus on good facts. Like how ONE of the countertops in the kitchen is wider than the WALKWAY of my entire apartment kitchen. And then I find a happy place again when this reminds me that NOTHING in the apartment is packed and we are moving NEXT WEEKEND.

Item Number Four:

Reports! Due! Go write them now! Stop blogging or brushing your teeth and go write them!

Actually, I have a lot more done ahead of time than I ever had before, and I’m not in terrible shape, deadline-wise. Last time I had to write these, I remember crying hysterically, they were TOO HARD and I didn’t feel good and POR QUE??? I realized after getting a large portion of them done this time, that I was pregnant then and didn’t know it. So I’m better this time.

 

Item Number Five (and these aren’t really accurate numbers, but shut up):

I’m pregnant. Almost six months along. My mood swings are a bit slower and steader, my back hurts, Ariel is kicking me ALL THE TIME but not if someone else tries to feel. Coy little minx! I’m not as freaked out, most of the time, and still occasionally forget that I’m pregnant. Am still not at my pre-pregnancy weight, but slightly closer. The midwife wants me eating 60 grams of protein a day, which seems IMPOSSIBLE. Snacks, she says. Frequent snacks. Well, I teach all day. That means I’m talking. All day. Which is hard to do while eating. But I have been forced to break out some maternity clothes… they just don’t fit me anywhere but my belly. I’m still in regular jeans, I just need longer shirts to cover the baby bump.

 

Item Number Six:

We’ve never watched Lost before. So we rented the first season on DVD. Being responsible adults, we may or may not have stayed up until FIVE AM to finish the last disk on Friday night. Because clearly, this is high-priority stuff right now.

 

Hello Baby! September 28, 2008

Filed under: Ariel, pregnancy — lucythevaliant @ 4:34 pm

Today I am planning to spend some time going through the scary extra bedroom (no longer a cute, organized office, it has become a dumping ground for the piles of baby paraphernalia that people give us) and separating the baby clothes by gender and washing them. Yesterday, I spent a good amount of time making baby registries and obsessing because the crib set/nursery decor that I spent HOURS choosing is now discontinued. Which means that I have to run around to different Babies R Us stores grabbing the last bits of it and BUYING IT MYSELF. Crib sets are EXPENSIVE! That is why people put them on registries! And Friday afternoon was spent wandering around various baby stores and having panic attacks in the car.

 

Because? Because we went to our sonogram appointment on Friday morning! And found out the gender of the baby! And it’s a girl!

 

So now I get to start really getting ready for this baby. Which is good, because I am HALFWAY DONE, people.

Also, I am terrified out of my mind.

I have always planned to have a boy first, although I never gave much thought as to why I planned that. I’m not having gender disappointment now, but I did have to spend a few hours of tearful soul-searching. I am absolutely scared of having a girl for the following reasons:

  • It is really hard to be a girl.
  • Mother-daughter relationships are sticky and confusing and difficult.
  • Maybe she will hate me.
  • I come from a predominantly female family, with a lot of absentee males. So if I had a boy, at least the mistakes I will inevitably make will be NEW mistakes, all my own! And not the cyclical insanity of many generations. Which leads us to-
  • Maybe I will heap all of my baggage on her.
  • Maybe I will just completely and totally screw this up.
  • Maybe she, in some spooky fetus awareness, KNOWS I would be more comfortable if she was a boy. In which case I am ALREADY completely and totally screwing this up.

 

Fortunately, after I realized that all of these fears were floating around near the surface of my subconscious, and cried a good bit, and talked to Joey, I feel a thousand times better. Joey helpfully pointed out that since he will BE HERE, PARENTING LIKE A TEAM, this will be a fresh start anyhow. Because that is for sure a new thing in my family history. And on top of that, I am always more comfortable addressing fears and issues once I have identified them.

 

So. I get a little girl!!!!! Who will be adorable and smooshable and fiesty, and maybe even have a chance to be confident and have a real self-esteem!!!! And I get to buy delicious PINK THINGS!!! And I am bound and determined to have this nursery waiting for her:

 

 

Except for the green chair, which I kind of hate. But I bought the nightlight and the basket last night, and they put the LAST cribset on hold for me until payday. Because do you know how long it took for me to pick this? And now I have all these plans? So if I have to track things down on eBay I will.

 

And I’m not projecting with that whole ’she will be fiesty’ thing. We spent an hour at the sonogram place, and then went directly to the birth center. Both places, the people had to chase the child around my uterus, commenting on how active she is. Which yes, I KNOW. She kicks me ALL THE TIME. She also has exceptionally long leg bones, which is not exactly a surprise, given her parents. The midwife started to refer to her as a ‘little guppy’ because she was zooming around so quickly. And I didn’t even have any caffeine! I swear! Also, I have gained NO weight yet, and am under strict orders to eat protein,  LOTS AND LOTS OF PROTEIN.

 

And the baby needs her alias, but Guppy isn’t going to cut it. Instead, I’m going with Ariel. Because it’s close to her real name, and while I won’t be comparing my daughter to a fish, a mermaid is more acceptable.

 

 

 

 

Hi Ariel! I’m going to try REALLY hard not to make you insane! Because I already love you sooooo much!

 

Rainy-Day Randomness September 13, 2008

Filed under: Maya: cat of doom, baby brain, pregnancy, silly newlyweds — lucythevaliant @ 10:28 pm

I’m holed up in our apartment today, wearing my jammies, drinking DECAF coffee out of a huge mug, and fighting Maya for ownership of the comfy computer chair. Ike is just about upon us, but no longer in the mood to crack some skulls and take some names. Joey is out running some errands, but calls every hour or so to check on me and caution me about the impending GALE FORCE WINDS. So far, its just rainy, and I’m feeling guilty for the occasional thought of how nice it is to be snuggled up indoors on a rainy Saturday. You know, because of the horrible destruction of Galveston and Houston and other such places.

 

I woke up a LOT last night with horrible leg cramps. I only get those when I’m dehydrated, so drinking all of this coffee is a stupid idea, isn’t it? The first time this happened to me, a few weeks ago, it hurt so bad that I woke Joey up, crying and curled up in a ball. athlete that he is, he promptly grabbed my leg and stretched my foot out. And then explained to me how I MUST stretch out a cramping muscle or it will never feel better. And then I went out and bought a bunch of electrolyte water the next day, all the while wondering if I shouldn’t rethink this whole natural childbirth thing. Since that was just my LEG for a few minutes, and it made me cry. So how will I do when it is another part of my body entirely, for HOURS ON END?? Anyway, I was able to stretch out my cramping leg muscle properly every time last night, without waking my husband, and also ended up watching the progression of Ike every few hours, all night. I get creeped out and sad, thinking of how I was in Houston not too long ago, and now all those people and buildings are hurt and changed.

 

I am also cranky because I’m fighting a cold. Because I can’t take Airborne! And I thought I could take my mamma’s Super Amazing Pommegranate Supplement Juice of Awesomeness, and did, until I Googled all the ingredients. Two of them are not recommended during pregnancy. Crap. Obsessive Lysoling and mandatory hand sanitizing are the only things now standing between me and an angry mob of middle school germs. And clearly, they are not working.

I just took a Mucinex DM (because that’s okay during pregnancy, right? RIGHT??) even though I’d like to boycott it based on it’s revolting commercials. I also just tidied up the apartment while halfway watching a Project Runway marathon. Although it may be more accurate to say I just halfway tidied up the apartment while watching a Project Runway marathon. Technically.

 

I also made and consumed my guilty, no nutritional value whatsover, only to be partaken of while no one else is around to see, snack. What is it? Nothing more than flour and Crisco, mixed together and baked. I discovered this snack when I was twelve, enjoying swipes of the residue left on a baking pan that had been greased and floured, then used to make bannana nut bread in. It is truly revolting and embarassing. What’s worse is when Joey comes home and smells something ‘cooking’. “Ooh, did you BAKE? What is it?” He’ll ask, excitedly. Joey is very proud of having a wife who can BAKE. “She’s a really good cook,” he’ll tell people. “And she can BAKE, too.” And then I have to confess to him that I am Truly Weird. But I’ll blame this time on the fact that we have no food in the apartment, none at all. We don’t even have toilet paper. Not that I would eat that! I’m not THAT weird!

 

I am, however, weird enough to call my mother at ten thirty at night and beg and plead for her to bring over some toilet paper RIGHT AWAY, it’s an EMERGENCY and I’m PREGNANT. And she was weird enough drop everything and bring me the toilet paper.

 

OMG! The baby just moved, and Joey was able to feel it! I was sitting at the computer (obviously) with my knees pulled up to my chest, and I felt it start…doing something. Not kicking me, although I have been feeling that for a few weeks now. I have! The midwife said I wasn’t, but I WAS! People also said I couldn’t possibly have morning sickness the same week we concieved, but I DID. I just do things early, okay? Anyway, this wasn’t kicking… it felt like the baby was rolling around, or doing a sommersault, or possibly trying to push my legs out of the way because YOU ARE CROWDING ME, MOM! I NEED MY SPACE! Because after all, it is related to me. And I took a second to register that, hey that’s the baby moving. And also, weird, there’s a baby in there, moving around and stuff. And then I yelled for Joey, who had just returned and was escaping the Project Runway marathon by watching ESPN in the bedroom. And he got in here in time to totally feel the baby moving FROM THE OUTSIDE. He even re-created the weird motion on my arm, so I believe him that he really felt it. Then we had a “Can you believe that we’re going to be parents?” moment and gazed deeply into each others eyes. And then I ruined the moment by leaping up to pee. Because people, when the urge hits, it hits quick fast and in a hurry! And then, no, I would not lay down and cuddle with him, because I was in the middle of BLOGGING. And I had things left to write! Although I cannot remember any of my transitions now. So, in no particular order:

 

I paid thirty dollars (money which would have been better spent on toilet paper, clearly) to get a pedicure before school started. Which was not long ago at all. And yet? A quarter of the pretty polish has already chipped off my right big toe. I am not pleased, not I am not.

 

Maya looks like a weirdo, because Joey and I had to shave a ton of matts off her back and rear area. Maybe I should, like brush her or something. Because do you know what taking clippers to a crazed feline entails? I had to wrap her front half in a towel and then twist my arms and legs like a pretzel around her to keep her still. And I was worried the whole time that I was suffocating her, which was an irrational fear since she was busy making unholy noises without ceasing. Joey suggested we change her name to Damien, and I can’t say he was far off. She either sounded like demon-spawn or a very unhappy cow. Meanwhile, Joey was laboring away to clip most of her back, her rump, the backs of her hind legs, and part of her tail. Which took a while, because it was pretty much just solid matted hair. He wanted to finish the job and clip all of her, but I declined… I was very traumatized, and the matted parts alone took over thirty minutes. Maya, however, did not hold a grudge. The minute we released her (with me skittering away in case she wanted some revenge) she was perfectly fine. Although she did spend the next day refusing to walk around AT ALL, because she was so thrown off-balance.

 

The other night, Joey got frustrated with Maya’s insistence on pooping on the floor. Even though he JUST CLEANED the litter box, she refuses to go anywhere but the floor right next to it. And I think she knew that he was not pleased with her, because she ran and ran from him, all around the apartment. And I just sat and watched while my 6′3 husband dove across the floor in an attempt to grab the cat. And split, effectively ruining, a brand new pair of Dockers. And I really didn’t feel sorry for either one of them.