Friday, July 29, 2005
Thursday, July 28, 2005
First he said no. Now he says maybe.
I don't know what's worse. This:
"In every society, the definition of marriage has not ever to my knowledge included homosexuality. That's not to pick on homosexuality. It's not, you know, man on child, man on dog, or whatever the case may be."
"The relations with, uhh — Europe are important relations, and they've, uhh — because, we do share values. And, they're universal values, they're not American values or, you know — European values, they're universal values. And those values — uhh — being universal, ought to be applied everywhere."
God help our country. Wait, I'm agnostic. Somebody help our country.
Wednesday, July 27, 2005
My mom is a woman possessed. Possessed by the baby shower demon. And she won’t leave me alone about it. I didn’t ask for a shower, she just called me up that day and told me I was having one. So why do I have to be such an integral part of the decision process? Isn’t it just my job to show up, open the gifts, take them home, and pop out a kid in a few months? Shouldn’t that be my only concern?
In a normal family, yes. But we’re not normal, no, not even a little bit. For my bridal shower my dad’s ex-wife made my favors. Yes, I said my dad’s ex-wife (who incidentally also used to baby sit for me and my brother). Lunch was catered. Things were simple. And a shitload of people showed up. The only thing that my mom pestered me about was crocheting dishcloths, which we made for door prizes. Again, why did I have to do that?
This time, my mom is all on her own. She suddenly has no friends and no family, all because Ryan’s mom is sick and unable to do much besides make a guest list (which I’m sure will include at least 100 of her closest friends and every single surviving member of her class from high school). So guess who the burden is on? You got it. Me. The mom to be.
Here are the type of things I get barraged with every time I mistakenly pick up the phone and my mom is on the other end:
We need to decide on a menu! (menu?) We need to have a meeting with Ryan’s mom! (she’s confined to her house, go whenever!) Who’s going to make favors? (uh… favors?) Can Ryan’s aunt and cousin help? (wait, is your phone broken? Well, you’re talking to me on it!) What about those lollipops we saw in the magazine? (Ugly and covered in foam, no thanks) Can your friends help? (I already told you they would!!!) What games are we going to play? (games? THERE WILL BE NO GAMES!)
For the love of GOD! I don’t care! Why are you doing this to me? Why does talking to you result in me wanting to rip my hair out… slowly… follicle by follicle, until my scalp bleeds? Why do I want to gouge out my eyes? What is so hard about ordering a meat tray, salad, and rigatoni from a deli? Why can’t you just buy little teeny potted plants as favors? WHY ARE YOU MAKING THIS SO HARD!
My darling husband, who at one time in his life was a bar and restaurant manager for a place that did catering, offered to cook anything we want. He’s good at it. He wants to help. Why should I have to help? Why should I even know about this shower? I hate surprises, but I’d much rather this be a surprise than have to deal with hearing all this shit every single day.
I know my mom means well and she just wants me to have a great shower, but she’s a fucking pest. I don’t know how to nicely tell her that. Because she does things like this, Ryan has forbidden her from witnessing her grandchild’s delivery. Which is fine with me, because you know what she’d do?
“No, push it this way! C’mon, this kid isn’t going to pop itself out! Rosie (the dog) had an easier time giving birth than you, and she had three puppies! Ryan, help her breathe! No, you’re not doing it right!”
Rosie really is going to have puppies. And my parents keep reminding me that she’s more pregnant than I am (she’ll have them at the end of August). And I keep telling them, “yeah, but she still only weighs 7 pounds, at the most. And I don't hear anyone pestering her about her shower.”
I love my mom. She’s awesome. But sometimes I have the urge to smack her in the face. I guess that’s normal.
Tuesday, July 26, 2005
As you can see, it was hovering around 90 degrees when we got there at about 2. The first band started playing at 9:30, so we missed a lot of the second stage bands. That was fine with me and fine with Ryan, because most of them were crap bands. So we hung out at the family trickster for a while. Here’s me tailgating with my Gatorade.
The only person that I cared about seeing on the second stage was Rob Zombie, and we caught the tail end of his set, which I was a little disappointed by. Number one, he doesn’t have dreads anymore, which rules him out as hot. Secondly, he was wearing a blue tank top and jeans, which takes away from his cool factor. Rob Zombie, what happened to you? You were so scary looking and hot before. Gah! Not to mention that we were so far away from the stage that I could barely see anything. This was my view. You can see Mr. Zombie in the bottom left hand corner in his BLUE TANK TOP.
We proceeded to look around at stuff, like the 25 to 30 dollar t-shirts (rip off) and the overpriced cheap looking hippie jewelry. There was some cool stuff to look at, like the metal babies stuff, but that might have appealed to me for different reasons.
What else appealed to me was the people watching. There were many, many badly dressed people there. I’ve never seen such a congregation of horrifying outfits. It was awesome. I felt like I was at the freak zoo. Here’s just a taste:
As you can see, this girl forgot some integral parts of her outfit. Like her shirt. And a good portion of her skirt. In the real world this lovely lady would affectionately be known as a prostitute. But this was honestly how 50% of the women there were dressed, and let me tell you, some of them really shouldn’t have been dressed like that. Of course there were also the girls in the gigantic pants and oversized t-shirts that had chains draped all over their bodies, which coordinated nicely with the guys who were wearing full length leather dusters (yeah, remember how it was 90 degrees?). Then there was the girl in a pair of black underwear with a black bra on and some hideous mesh tights with gigantic black clunky boots. And let’s not forget, the many women who braved the elements by taking off their shirts and having their boobies airbrushed. They taped over their nipples, of course. BECAUSE THAT MAKES A DIFFERENCE. Unfortunately, a majority of the boobs were quite saggy. Sorry I couldn’t get a good picture. But does this make up for it?
I didn’t really invest much in paying attention to the bands, because I didn’t really care. I wanted to see three out of the 20 or so (I didn’t pay attention, remember?) bands that played, Rob Zombie, Iron Maiden, and Black Sabbath. Ryan knew a lot more of the bands than I did, so I spent a good part of the day just watching the shit going on around me. I watched some guy passed out in the sun just to make sure he was still alive. He slept through 5 bands, at least. Then I saw a guy get knocked out and fall flat on his face. That’s when Mr. Sleepy Pants woke up and moved. Finally, it was time for Iron Maiden, who played second to last. This is them.
Watching Ryan watch Iron Maiden was more exciting to me than watching Iron Maiden. He was like a little kid. I thought he might start peeing his pants or jumping for joy. I think quite possibly that seeing Iron Maiden was the highlight of his summer. Seeing him that excited made my whole day worth it. Here he is, drinking and being excited during their set.
So out of every band I saw that day, of course Iron Maiden was the best. No question about it. I’ve barely listened to Iron Maiden, I can sing probably 2 of their songs to you (my favorite being Run to the Hills), but they were so METAL. And so British! British Metal!!! I’ve never seen a band like that EVER. A bunch of long haired guys (with the exception of Bruce Dickinson, I think) banging their heads and running all over the stage with guitars. At the start of one song, Bruce said, “if you don’t like this song, you should be seeing Dave Matthews right now instead.” Well, Bruce, really, I wouldn’t mind seeing Dave Matthews, I’m actually a fan, but I’ve never seen him live… Ok, calm down Maiden fans. I’m only joking. (psst, blogger friends, I’m not joking, I really would like to see Dave Matthews some day). Here’s one of those Maiden fans, who I thought was going to give himself whiplash:
Sabbath played last of course. There was a lot of energy leading up to the start of their set. By this time most people in the crowd were wasted and getting busted for smoking pot or fighting or whatever. It was finally getting dark out, so the screens around the stage were turned on, which was beneficial to people like me, who were as far away from the stage as you could possibly get.
Then there were the lighters.
Those same lighter holders then used those lighters to make garbage fires all over the lawn the entire time Black Sabbath played. I bet the security team was sick to death of running around putting out fires all over the place.
As cool as it is to say that I saw Black Sabbath, who, don’t forget, were originally a hippie band called Earth, they have seen their heyday. And it’s long gone. Ozzy was energetic, he wasn’t stumbling around and incoherent like I half expected him to be, but he sounded like shit. He was just off his game. Ryan was sad and drunk at this point and kept babbling about how all his heroes were dead. I knew then that it was time to go.
After waiting for about 45 minutes in the parking lot for traffic to die down, we decided just to go. The drive home was fairly uneventful, besides the 5 miles of traffic that crawled along for 20 minutes. We made it home by 1:00 and I was sleeping by 1:30.
For some reason I had heavy metal nightmares.
I can’t imagine why.
Monday, July 25, 2005
Could this be from hormones or the Fructis Long and Strong shampoo and conditioner that I've been using since my last hair cut that is supposed to "repair split ends and nourish damaged hair that is prone to breakage for longer stronger hair." Hmmm?
And my hair totally bleached out on Saturday. I'm blonder than ever now.
So the weekend was fun, Ozzfest was fun, and I survived with no problems whatsoever. More about that tomorrow, hopefully, when I get my pictures uploaded from my camera.
I saw more than my fair share of boobs too.
I can't believe it's Monday already. Gah.
Friday, July 22, 2005
So my 10 year class reunion was supposed to take place last Saturday. It was cancelled. It’s now rescheduled for November 25th. The day after Thanksgiving. How stupid is that? It’s on BLACK FRIDAY, the day that used to be the bane of my existence. Not that I can go anyway, since I’ll be nursing a 2 week old child. Funny how life changes so quickly, huh?
I hated high school, so I don’t really care if I go or not. I’d love to go to see who out of the popular crowd got fat, but then again, it’s not really worth my time, since they don’t know who I am anyway. I regularly talk to 2 people that I graduated with, and I know what they’re doing, and that’s fine with me.
Is it just me, or has this month sucked? I’m looking forward to it being over. It started out good, but it’s ending much worse. More and more bad stuff happens every day. On top of all the crap happening around the world, I just got my first student loan bill since I consolidated. Before that, they were deferred, but now I have to face up to reality and start paying them off. For the next 20 years. Add to that the fact that we found out Ryan’s mom’s kidneys are only functioning at 23% of a normal kidney, and I’m ready to drink. But I can’t do that, so I eat ice cream. And it’s making me fatter by the day. BLAH!
We could all use a little cheer in the blogoverse. Tomorrow is Ozzfest! Maybe the day will be great!
I can only hope.
Maybe this cheery picture will help things.
Thursday, July 21, 2005
Remembering the way my childhood was seems so strange to me now. These days my parents are completely normal, well, as normal as anyone’s parents. My dad is still a little uptight, but not nearly as bad as he used to be. My dad was a drunk, and he was a mean drunk. He’d come home from work at night and drink probably a case of beer. My brother and I were terrified of him. On more than one occasion my dad beat us. Typically when he took off his belt you knew you were in big trouble. Once, as my mom was tucking me in to bed, I heard my dad yell for me from the basement. I bolted up and out of bed and took off down the hallway, and stepped on a nail, which impaled itself into my heel. I stopped dead and started screaming. My mom, who was a bit confused as to why I took off, came running, removed the nail from my heel and took me downstairs to the bathroom to clean my foot up. Meanwhile, as I had never answered my dad, he came up the stairs furious. He screamed at me, and my mom. He wanted me to come all the way downstairs just to get him a beer. He didn’t care that I skewered my foot on the way down. That was one of the first times I remember hating my dad. It wasn’t the last.
The last time I remember my parents having a terrible fight, I was 15. We were eating dinner, which was the prime time for arguments to start. We were talking about our trip to camp the following week to go to the Autumn Leaf Festival in Clarion. Back then I had my first real boyfriend, so the idea of leaving town for a weekend didn’t really excite me. I said something that my dad apparently didn’t like and he flipped out. He grabbed me by my hair and pulled me out of my chair, all the while almost ripping my earring out of my ear. My mom once again came running, and for the first time, I witnessed one of their fights get physical. Before I knew what had actually happened, my mom was on the floor and my dad was over top of her. He didn’t hit her but she was begging him to. He just pinned her down and they screamed at each other until I finally grabbed my dad by the shirt and started pulling him off of her. He turned on me and I ran up the stairs to my room. My mom followed and told me to pack a bag, because we were leaving. I met my dad at the bottom of the stairs and he got right in my face. He told me to hit him. He taunted me. I just stared him in the eye and projected all the hate I had in my body into the look I gave him. That’s when my mom and I left. And, incidentally the first and only time I missed an Autumn Leaf Festival since I was 13.
For whatever reason, we left my brother, who I think ran and hid during the fight. He was 11 at the time, and just stayed with my dad. My mom and I stayed in a hotel room that night, and I went to school the next day. The next couple nights we stayed at my moms best friends house and within a few days she found us an efficiency apartment. I remember that month of my life being one of the happiest ever. My mom and I, living as independent women, free of my dad. I never felt more liberated. I don’t know how it happened, but my mom and dad somehow worked things out. He agreed not to drink so much, we moved back in, and things weren’t so bad.
I don’t regret or feel bad about anything that happened to me in my childhood. My relationship with my parents now is great. We had a lot of rocky times, but I think it helped make me a stronger person, and not such a spoiled brat. My dad and I still don’t see eye to eye on a lot of things, but he treats me like an adult and respects me. I think he knows that he hasn’t always been the best dad, but he tries. My mom is a saint. She’s stayed married to one of the most high maintenance men in history for 30 years. I won’t deny that my mom and I didn’t have the best relationship while I was growing up, we had some pretty good fights, some of which were pretty physical.
The crazy thing about Ryan and I is that our childhoods mirrored each others in that respect. Like me, he and his parents, especially his mother, had a very rough relationship. Except he was an only child, so everything was focused on him. His mom denies up and down that she ever so much as swatted his ass, but I know all of his stories, just like he knows mine. And we know our parents did the best they could, but were just a little (ahem) misguided. The torch has now been passed to us and it’s time to raise our kid like we were never raised, in a happy, healthy environment.
I think what has been freaking me out lately is remembering all of that and knowing that I don’t want my child to experience any of what I went through. I suppose it filters down, little by little. My grandma used to beat my dad with electrical wire and lock him in the coal cellar when he was bad. So my childhood could have been worse. I know that everyone says that they’re not going to be like their parents, but I think it’s fairly unavoidable. I’m a lot like my mom most of the time, but when my temper flares up, my dad totally comes out in me. I’ve been known to kick doors off of its hinges when I’m pissed, or throw things, or worse. And I’ve never been patient. Ever. I don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea and think of my parents or Ryan’s parents as bad people. They’re not. They’re wonderful people and I love them. I love my parents so much that I can’t even bring myself to move out of the town that they live in.
But I’m glad they don’t live next door... only because it would be super annoying.
I guess what it is is the uncertainty of what I’m facing. It’s a road I’ve never traveled upon. And everyone tells me how good I’ll do, and I know I will. It’s inevitable. People become parents every single day, and not to sound arrogant, but I think I’m more intelligent than a lot of those people. But it’s hard to face the unknown sometimes. At least I know where my fear comes from. That old trauma just hangs on like a parasite.
Aren’t childhood memories fun?
Wednesday, July 20, 2005
I had to go get my tooth fixed this morning, and wow, did it suck. Not only did I have to pay $115 today, I had to pay $75 the other day for an exam. Then I found out I have yet another tooth that’s on the verge of imploding, which is going to cost me $150 to get fixed. I hate not having dental. The tooth that I got fixed was a problem for a while, and apparently, according to my dentist, had a lot of decay deep into it. So when he was drilling it, it felt like… how can I put this? Say you died, and went to hell, and Satan decided to torture you via your teeth. It hurts so effing bad. I don’t get it! I brush my teeth and floss daily! Why are my teeth crumbling? Gah!
Speaking of insurance, I found out that when I’m on my maternity leave, I have to pay the entire premium for my insurance out of my pocket, which is roughly $255 a month. And I won’t be working. And I’ll have a baby. I’m not sure how I’m going to be able to do that, plus pay for everything else that needs paid, especially since Ryan will get laid off in December. Just another thing to add to my list of stress.
On a brighter note, my boss bought everyone Dilly Bars from Dairy Queen. But I have to wait to eat mine until my mouth is no longer numb.
Tuesday, July 19, 2005
The more I see women smoking, the less attractive it becomes to me. Next time you’re around an older women who smokes, watch how disgusting it looks when she’s taking a drag off that thing. You’ll discover what it looks like when your Aunt Mable is giving your Uncle Frank a blow job. It’s THAT disgusting looking. First there’s the sucking part, then the release where a little puff of smoke comes out. That’s when they’re really sucking that smoke down into their lungs and you can watch them savor it. I imagine the look on their face is the same one I have on when I’m eating ice cream. Then comes the exhale. And they sit with that thing up in the air, and use it to highlight their points in conversation. I’ve been noticing a lot of older women smoking, and I hope that I don’t become one, because it’s just nasty looking. Not to mention the smell. Even when I smoked I hated the smell of cigarettes. Of course now it’s more repulsive than ever.
Ryan and I agreed that when we found out we were having a baby that we would quit smoking. I smoked a lot, sometimes a pack a day. He bugged me for months before the pregnancy to cut down, but I smoked out of sheer boredom. I was on break at Target, so I smoked. I was in my car on the way to work, so I smoked. I was at home, sitting on my couch, so I smoked. I didn’t feel like I ever really wanted to quit. There were times in the past that I did want to quit, and I did a few times, but it never lasted long. A few months at most. I tried everything. Lollipops, gum, Zyban, hypnosis. Everything worked initially, until I got back around my smoker friends. Out of my largish group of friends, I think approximately three or four of them are non smokers.
So it didn’t surprise me when Ryan couldn’t quit smoking. It did surprise me that I had no problem quitting. Aside from a week of strange cigarette cravings (that I didn’t give in to… guilt, remember) I’ve been pretty much repulsed by the whole act of smoking. I’m a little disappointed that Ryan couldn’t quit, of course, but I’m not going to pester him over it. I hope that one day he can quit. Thankfully he doesn’t smoke around me or in the house. Maybe once winter rolls around and we have a baby, things will be easier for him.
Speaking of Ryan, we’ve been getting along much better in the last couple of days. He admitted to me last night that he’s been very stressed lately, which I already knew, because he only gets extremely cranky when stressed. Unfortunately the stress of worrying about his mom isn’t going to go away anytime soon. I know some of our friends read what I write here, and they might be surprised that I’m so frank about me and Ryan’s relationship, but keep in mind, it’s just an outlet for me. Just like writing songs is an outlet for him. He’s not interested in contributing to my writing, just like I’m not interested in contributing to his. Not because we don’t care, but because it’s good to have separate interests. And if he ever expresses an interest in reading what I write here, he’s more than welcome. These are my feelings, my opinions, my life experiences. If you’re uncomfortable with it, don’t read it. But I’m not going to censor it, especially not now when I need to get everything out there, because holding it all in makes me feel like I’m going to explode.
Just felt the need to add that little disclaimer.
I always felt much more uptight when I quit smoking in the past. That might be true now, too. I feel like sometimes I step over the edge of being opinionated into being fanatical, which is exactly what I hate about other people. For some reason (could it be pregnancy, the time in your life when EVERYONE wants to give you their unsolicited advice?) I feel very judged right now in my personal life. I hope I’m just imagining it.
Oh, and the lovely ladies over at DotMoms linked me. That's cool. Thanks, mamacitas.
I’m going to stop typing now and inhale a muffin. Yeah, I baked it. You’re jealous. Uh huh.
Monday, July 18, 2005
Last week I chipped a tooth on my Kellogg Smart Start cereral, which I swear has little chunks of cement in it. Not a big deal, it was a tooth that had a filling in it, so I wasn’t terribly worried. This morning that same damnable cereal (I know, I know, why did I do it again… I thought soaking it in milk for a few minutes would soften it) knocked that filling loose. So now I have to go to the mother fucking dentist this morning. I’d rather have 8 pap smears done in a row than get a filling. The last time I got a filling, I could feel everything. It wasn’t pleasant. Top that off with the fact that I no longer have dental insurance (one of the only perks of being a Target employee) and I’m one pissed off, tooth achy pregnant bitch.
It was a weird weekend. We didn’t do much of anything except for house stuff, which is exactly what I wanted to do. I’ve found though that a lack of social life makes the weekend go way too quick. We had lots of opportunities to do lots of things, but being E-Lo and Ryan, we didn’t. Saturday was crib shopping day, and we had lunch at the Cranberry Quaker Steak and Lube (not nearly as good as the original!). Ryan’s boss invited us to his house for a party and Ryan asked me if I wanted to go. I politely declined, but was actually thinking, “what, you expect me to hang out with those drunk people when I don’t have tickets to a concert?” No thanks. If I never have to hang out with them again, it would be too soon. Yesterday we did our best to clean what was left of the room moving fiasco mess, and I spent pretty much the whole day reading HBP, until we went grocery shopping. That was a treat. You’ve never done anything until you’ve grocery shopped with my cranky husband.
That’s right. Ryan was moody. He liked blaming it on me all weekend, but I was perfectly fine and happy to be out getting stuff done. At Babies R Us he hated the crib that I picked out and made us walk around for 20 minutes looking at all the other cribs until we finally bought the one I originally picked out. I think it’s nice. He got over that irritation and all was good. Yesterday we went grocery shopping and he kept asking, “do you want this, do you want that” until I was like, I really don’t care. If you want it get it. Then he starts mumbling about “fine, don’t get anything then.” I almost started crying in the middle of Sam’s Club. Why do I have to make all the decisions ALL the time? I don’t want that responsibility. I’m already doing everything for this kid, buying clothes and reading books and talking to him/her and he practically acts like there’s nothing in there. Is he going to continue to ignore the baby after it’s born? It makes me crazy and I actually thought about punching him in the mouth yesterday. I just thought about how good it would feel to just haul off and give him a good one. I could feel the teeth and blood and saliva on my knuckles I wanted to do it so FUCKING bad. It was like pulling teeth just to get him to go buy this crib. “What’s your hurry, you’re not due until November.” Yeah, well, my mom gave me money NOW, so I want to buy it before we blow it on something stupid. “We’re getting a mattress today too? You didn’t tell me that.” Did you expect our baby to sleep on springs, or did you want to make another trip down here? “Do you want pork chops?” I HATE PORK CHOPS, how long have you known me?
Needless to say, we didn’t get along very well this weekend, which is the exact opposite of what I was hoping for. I was hoping that a weekend alone with just the 2 of us would be nice and relaxing and that we could reconnect like married people need to do every once in a while, but it didn’t happen. Oh well. We’re getting along fine today, but we’re both at work. Funny, huh?
Saturday is Ozzfest. I’m wondering how I’m going to fare at this shindig. It’s supposed to be 86 degrees and sunny, and if this humidity keeps up, I’m going to be one swollen E-Lo. Not to mention the fact that it’s an all day concert. In a place that charges you 10 bucks for a beer and a stale soft pretzel. Am I going to be able to survive? It will be interesting to say the least. A whole day with hundreds of metal heads. My husband will be in heaven, I might just be in hell.
Yay for Mondays.
Friday, July 15, 2005
Speaking of sweets, today is the release of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, which I’m excited to see. Mainly because I love Johnny Depp, but I simply cannot compare him to Gene Wilder. I love every single Gene Wilder movie ever (although I haven’t even seen half of them). Yesterday during a meeting my boss and I started talking about Young Frankenstein, and I started singing “Puttin’ on the Ritz” like the monster does in the movie. It was one of my more shining career moments. Anyway, on the Today show this morning, Katie and Matt were asking kids what they preferred this weekend, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, or Harry Potter. All the kids that didn’t like reading said the movie, but they were beat out by the Harry Potter kids. Big surprise there.
My question is, how CAN kids be excited about Charlie and the Chocolate Factory? I mean, the original came out in 1971. That’s 6 years before I was even born. Kids won’t fully appreciate this movie, even if they’ve seen the original. Kids are spoiled these days with computer animation and cool special effects, so seeing the 1971 version isn’t going to impress them. But how can they get the full effect of the movie without appreciating the original? I suppose they could be like me, and actually read the book. I read the book long before I ever saw the movie. I don’t think I saw the movie until I was in high school, and I’m fairly certain I was stoned silly. But I still saw the genius behind it, even if I was terrified of the Oompa Loompas. There are some crazy scary parts of that movie. And that’s what kids will be missing in the new version, I’m sure.
Back to sweets again, (now that I’ve finished the donut) let me tell you about putting on one of my lovely Old Navy maternity tunics today. Yeah, it’s almost too small. I don’t like that at all. And I started doing a new prenatal workout DVD last night and was surprised that it actually made me sweat. Not a single workout that I’ve been doing has accomplished that, so I’m sticking with this one. I have bumps on my body that I never knew could have bumps, and my boobs are almost as big as my head. So working out is a grand idea. But back to the new DVD. It has a section where you stretch your calf muscles, which is supposed to help prevent those nasty leg cramps you get in the middle of the night (for some reason, you get them more often when you’re pregnant). So naturally, having had a few middle of the night sessions of writhing around on my bed in pain, unable to do anything at all until my calf muscle relaxed itself, I was like, “sweet, this is just what I need.” So I happily did the calf stretches, and wouldn’t you just know it? At 3:30 this morning I woke up, stretched out a little, and boom, my left calf muscle starting spazzing out. Once it calmed down I reasoned that walking it off would do some good, so I made a trip to the bathroom. Of course when I came back, I couldn’t sleep again. I think I finally dozed off a half hour later, and had a dream about teaching a baby cheetah how to swim. Uh huh. But my leg is still sore as hell. It only happens when I think about it. Last time I got a leg cramp was after reading a post about eating bananas to help out with leg cramps, and I thought, “gee, I haven’t had any leg cramps.” My body responded with a big “fuck you” to me that night.
And just when I didn’t want to make any plans this weekend, my husband starts making them for me. Tonight we’re either going to the drive in to see Land of the Dead (not my choice, since I HATE zombie movies) or going to a Blues Festival or staying home and listening to the radio (and hopefully moving furniture so that I have a place to put my crib tomorrow). Have I mentioned that I need a vacation?
One more thing, this picture. I don't know where this came from or who to credit for it (other than the woman who posted it on the pregnancy discussion board), but I found it so beautiful and moving that I had to share (of course, it could just be my hormones).
Have a good weekend. Mine will be wet, hot, and sticky. Because of the weather, you pervs.
Thursday, July 14, 2005
So in light of everything around me that is crashing and burning and making me crazy, I’ve decided to think of things that make me happy right now. Here goes:
Feeling Fuzzball practicing to try out for the Rockettes, which Ryan won’t be thrilled with if he/she turns out to be a boy, but hey, I’m open to anything.
My wonderful marriage. I’m hearing tales of women who have been left all alone while pregnant since their significant others didn’t want to take responsibility. I’m glad I married the man I did and I’m even more glad that he’s just as excited about this kid as I am.
The fact that Fuzzball is healthy and obviously quite energetic.
Anything chocolate. Or ice cream. Or chocolate ice cream. Or chocolate ice cream with more chocolate. But really, any kind of ice cream is good.
The fact that I don’t work at Target (thanks for reminding me, ESC and Seth).
The fact that my job might move very soon to a location that is only 10 minutes away from my house. That would be awesome.
The new System of a Down song that I keep hearing on the radio. You know, the one that goes, “everybody is going to the party, have a real good time…dancing in the desert, blowing up the sunshine…” But my favorite part: “Why don't presidents fight the war? Why do they always send the poor?” Good stuff, with a string of la las to boot. I’ve got to get that CD. Big fan.
The fact that the new Harry Potter book will be delivered right to my door on Saturday. I’m so excited I’m almost peeing my pants, which really isn’t anything shocking, since I almost pee my pants at least once a day.
Pineapple. Both the taste and the smell.
Ice cream. Or milkshakes, even.
What makes you happy right now?
Wednesday, July 13, 2005
The Penn Theater in downtown Butler.
I slept from the time I got home yesterday until this morning, on and off. I can only doze while I'm on the couch, and I got up long enough to make some dinner and eat. Then I fell asleep again, got up and had a fudgcicle, which was like manna from heaven. Then I hit the bed at 9:30 after 3 hours of couch dozing.
I had a dream that Ryan got arrested, and I woke up during the night thinking, “you asshole… oh, I can’t be mad at you,” and fell back asleep.
I felt great this morning. Maybe my body just needed rest. It was so hot yesterday that I almost passed out while driving, since my air conditioner in my car doesn’t work. That prompted Ryan to give me rights to the climate controlled van today, which I’m still not quite used to driving. It’s hard jumping from my roller skate of a car to a mini (but feels gigantic) van. But it's better than the sweaty sweat box that my car is.
I could still probably sleep for another 12 hours.
*Oh, and if you haven't already, you NEED to check out this site, which Sloth posted yesterday and is cracking my shit up today. I haven't picked my favorite worst person yet, because they're all pretty bad, and I'm dying just reading about them. For me it's neck and neck for Rick Santorum and Toby Keith... one is for moral reasons, the other is just to satisfy my sick need to torture a redneck sometime in my life. I think you can figure it out... Just go. Enjoy.
Tuesday, July 12, 2005
This is me on the inside.
This sucks. Today is only Tuesday. I’m sick of being stressed this week and my job sucks monkey balls.
It’s a crappy day. Ryan’s mom is going for surgery sometime this week, on top of seeing about a dozen different types of doctors, so pray, chant, send vibes, think positive thoughts, or do whatever it is you do, for them to figure out what is wrong with her. She’s diabetic, and for some reason she is losing blood. She’s been in the hospital twice in the past month and a half and her stupid jackass doctor still doesn’t know what’s wrong with her. Luckily, instead of being so stubborn, she finally decided to go to someone who knows what they’re doing (hopefully). On top of everything else, she “displaced” (huh?) a bone in her foot, and is unable to walk. She’s a mess. And I’m stressed about it, and Ryan is stressed about it, and it stresses me even more to see him stressed, and it’s all STRESS. I have a headache just thinking about it.
All this stress is making me utterly exhausted. I feel like I felt early in this pregnancy, unable to get off my couch. Except instead of resting, I’m furiously cleaning, cleaning, and cleaning. Nothing can be clean enough. I can’t focus my attention on any one thing for an extended period of time. I sit down to read and I suddenly have the urge to pull weeds out of my flowerbed. I get on the internet to look something up and something else catches my attention and I forget what I was originally there to do. People ask me questions at work and I look at them with my dumb face, because I have no fucking clue what they’re talking about. I can’t even hear the words coming out of their mouths… it’s like I’m hearing the adults on Charlie Brown.
Everyday tasks frustrate the shit out of me. I was mopping on Sunday and started crying because I couldn’t find the scrub brush that attaches to my broom handle. I was crazed. I still am crazed. I wanted to bite my coworker’s head off yesterday because I didn’t like the way he asked me a question. I feel like I might snap at any moment and run screaming out of my building.The only time I feel vaguely normal is when Ryan is around, which isn’t a lot, since he works a gazillion hours a week.
This sudden burst of hormone intensity is making me insane. It’s also so hard for me to catch my breath. I start wheezing just from standing up.
Needless to say, I need a break from everyday life. I’m enjoying the being pregnant part, but I’m not enjoying the craziness involved with it. But it seems like the craziness just popped up out of nowhere. Sort of. I’ve even snapped at my mom half a dozen times when she’s done nothing but buy me stuff, including giving me 400 bucks to buy my crib. Sheesh. I’m such a bitch.
I hope the bitchiness ends soon so my normal life can resume.
22 week belly pic is up at the baby blog. It seems bigger than the last one, but it doesn’t look that way.
Monday, July 11, 2005
Chicken on a woodpile. Much like chicken in a pine tree. There’s more on my flickr site, including a picture of my dad and I comparing bellies, which simply can’t be missed.
Bill pointed out to me on Saturday that I hadn’t gotten to everything on my list from last week, so I’m going to try and cover it all today. Pictures of stuff is covered, so…
Why you shouldn’t tell people the baby names you picked and how annoying it is when people are gunning for the baby to be a certain sex.
Yeah, both are just annoying. Ryan and I are people who can’t keep secrets, especially when it’s something we’re excited about. That’s why everybody knew I was pregnant when I was only 6 weeks. So when we finally agreed on names, we told people. For some reason I felt uncomfortable about it, and now I know why. Because when some nosy bastard asks you, “Oh, have you picked out names yet?” and you answer, “Yes, this one for a boy, and this one for a girl,” and they look at you like you have a disease, it makes you second guess yourself. And I don’t like second guessing myself. This has happened to Ryan so much that he wants to change our boy name. And I like our boy name, so I don’t want to. I don’t care if people are assholes and crinkle up their noses at the names I like. Next person to do that, I’m punching them. Be warned, world.
Then there are the people who are all like, “I hope it’s a girl,” or “I hope it’s a boy,” or worse yet, “What do you want?” I want a baby with 10 fingers and 10 toes who is perfect and healthy. I know what it feels like I’m having, but I refuse to share it with people because I don’t like to be wrong. And hoping that it’s one or the other makes me want to have the opposite just to spite you. And I don’t want to hope for one or the other, so shut up!
What to do when your friend tells you your ass is getting bigger.
I saw one of my old roommates from college over the weekend. We were always kind of tight, she was in my wedding and stuff, but we haven’t seen each other in months. At least not since I’ve been pregnant. Since she lives in the Clarion area, she and her boyfriend came out to camp to visit. After going on and on about how big I am, I finally sighed, exasperated, and said, “well, you know what? I’m pregnant. Six whole months pregnant. Of course I’m showing.”
“Oh, you’re six months already! Wow!”
“Yeah, I’ve been pregnant since February.”
“Wow, time is really flying. I just can’t believe how big you are.”
“The first thing I noticed was how big your butt is.”
Ok, for those of you who are as ignorant as my dear friend was, you NEVER tell a pregnant woman that her ASS IS BIG. We are fully aware of the changes in our bodies. So much so, that it feels like our bodies are foreign. They are bodies that belong to someone much bigger than our normal selves. And no, they don’t belong to us, really. They belong to the little creature that is causing all the bigness in the first place. So yes, we are sensitive about it. Later on, I said to my mom (since we LOVE bitching about other people to each other because we are so PERFECT), “what a bitch. I can’t believe she said that.” And do you know what she said?
“Oh, everything offends you.”
I was SO offended.
And that concludes the list from last week. If you haven’t been able to tell, things are really pissing me off lately. I feel like I hold it in all the time, then when I sit down to write it all comes gushing out and that’s when I discover how angry I am.
One thing is for certain, I’m not making ANY plans for next weekend. It’s going to be a fly by the seat of my maternity pants weekend. Plans are driving me nuts. I’ve been way too busy and I just need to relax. That’s probably part of what is causing me to feel angry and stressed.
Speaking of plans, it seems that the universe didn’t want Regan and I to meet last week. That was craptastic. I was all excited about burritos and (virgin) margaritas, but everything that could have come up did, including Ryan’s mom’s trip to the hospital on Friday. But that’s a post for another day. Let’s just say for now, my mother in law is driving me crazy, AND adding to my stress levels.
It also seems that Tropical Storm Dennis, formerly known as Hurricane, is going to be stopping by Western PA later in the week. There are places around here that still aren’t quite recovered from Hurricane Ivan last year, so this will be interesting. At least Ryan will be off of work for a couple of days, and if we get the same amount of rain that we did last year, my work will be flooded as well, since I work right by the Connoquenessing Creek (ranked second only to the Mississippi River in toxic discharges from industrial plants in the United States in 2000).
I’ll also be making a big purchase this week. A television, perhaps? An i-pod? Another car? No, my good people, a crib. Yes, the nursery construction will be underway this week. And by construction I mean the part where Ryan and I try to put the crib together and he starts throwing things and tells me to leave.
It’s going to be a fun week.
Speaking of fun, go here and put your 2 cents in to the guy that has taken to personally attacking me for defending a woman who wrote a post about her dislike for Bush. His name is Jack. He thinks I'm a rat and that I'm "aiding and comforting al Queda" because I said that it's every American's right to stand up against the government and disagree. He called the original letter writer a "partisan hack" and a "dimwit." He's smart. And he's asking for a shit storm. Let him feel the wrath of the pregnant woman.
Friday, July 08, 2005
On now to my tale of survival. As you know, we spent last weekend at camp. And my dad recently bought us a canoe, so we strapped that sucker to the roof racks on our beautiful white mini van and headed down to the river on Saturday.
I wasn’t sure how many people we’d have at camp with us that would want to join in on our canoe excursion on the Clarion River through Cook Forest, so I bought a couple heavy duty inner tubes so that some people could float down the river behind the canoe. Me being one of them. Turns out it was only Ryan, our friend Bill, and myself. So looking all cute and preggo in my little maternity tank top and shorts with my camp hat and sunglasses on, I jumped in my tube and tied myself to the canoe.
The river was pretty crowded with other canoe/tubers, but Ryan and Bill did a great job of steering to avoid people. Mainly it was just the big city yahoos that had never been in a canoe before that we almost running into us. I don’t know how many people I had to kick out of the way. And here’s the thing about the four mile stretch of Clarion River that people frequent; it’s SHALLOW. When I say shallow, I’m talking maybe a foot of water in some places, so you really have to know how to get around, or your ass is dragging on the bottom. Having done this many times before, we were old pros, and we laughed at the people who were getting stuck on rocks and tipping over. At it’s deepest the river is probably 7 to 8 feet deep. So it’s far from dangerous. EXCEPT. There are also a lot of places where there are big giant rocks sticking out of the water. These are the places that when you’re pregnant, and your butt is hanging down into the water, you’re going to want to avoid. Yeah, my ass scraped off a couple of big rocks. Some of them I hit fairly hard, some of them I grazed. My motherly instinct was to worry that somehow hitting my ass was hurting my baby. AND THEN.
Somehow, Ryan and Bill managed to steer us into the biggest motherfucker of a rock in the middle of the river. The current was so strong in this part that while their canoe was hung up on one side of the rock, me and my tube got swept over to the other side. I was in a slight panic because I was TIED to the canoe. So the current was sweeping me, but I wasn’t going anywhere. However, me hanging there was preventing Bill and Ryan from releasing themselves from the rocks. So my plan was to jump off the tube and untie it. I jumped off, but I couldn’t get it unknotted.
Ryan is yelling, “Get back on! Hurry up, we’re almost loose!”
I’m on the opposite side of the rock, going, “Uh… I can’t! You’re not going to be able to pull me back around!”
“Get on or untie it!”
“I’m trying to untie it!”
“I can’t get it, the knot’s too tight!”
“Wait! Wait! What about me! Come back! BUDDY!”
And that’s when they left me for dead.
So off they went, free of the rock, dragging my empty tube behind them. I was left standing in butt deep water, the river and canoes rushing around me. The current was fairly swift, enough so that when I moved, I almost fell over. Fear was taking hold. I knew they couldn’t turn around and come back to save me, so I gave in. I dropped myself into the water and let the current carry me down stream. I curled myself into a little ball and used my shirt as a floatation device. Bill and Ryan had pulled over to the side of the river and were looking back for me… and there I was, pregnant lady, dodging the canoes that were whizzing by me, floating down the rapids of the river using my tank top with the built in bra to keep me from going under.
Good thing there was only 3 to 4 feet of water in that part of the river. And good thing I have a sense of humor.
I happily climbed back on my tube and continued the journey… uneventfully.
I was in the sun on the river for 3 hours and I didn’t even get sunburned. Being pregnant has made my skin sun resistant. I wasn’t even wearing sunscreen. That’s survival in itself. I was worried about the stress of the situation and the effect that it might have on my little Fuzzball, but once we got back to camp I felt my organs being rearranged from some major kicking. So all was good.
And that’s the story of how I was left for dead in the Clarion River. If I can survive that, then childbirth should be a breeze.
That was a joke. Laugh.
Thursday, July 07, 2005
I’m kind of in a weird, cloudy haze today, still tired, but with my mind on London and what’s going on there. It’s so terrible to turn your television on first thing in the morning and see a city under attack. And for what? That’s the part I’ll never understand. What’s the message? What’s the point of taking innocent lives? People that have families, mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, children… it only proves how monstrous terrorists are, and I think we’ve learned that quite well over the years.
London, my heart goes out to you.
Wednesday, July 06, 2005
That I'm uneducated and my opinion means nothin'
But I know I'm a real good dancer
Don't need to look over my shoulder to see what I'm after…
Everybody's got their problems-ain't no new news here
I'm the same old trouble you've been having for years
Don't confuse the problem with the issue, girl,
'Cause it's perfectly clear
Just a human desire to have you come near
Want to put my arms around you
Feel your breath in my ear
You can bend me You can break me But you better stand clear
When the walls come tumblin' down...
Holy shit, kids. I’m one tired E-Lo today but I’m one happy and contented E-Lo too. Repeat after me: John Mellencamp is PHENOMENAL. And that’s all there is to that. I wasn’t all that excited about John Fogerty, but he was awesome too. I forgot that I really like CCR.
This morning, as I was blow drying my hair with one eye open (much like I did in my college days when I’d go out drinking all night and have class the next morning at 8), I thought, you know, I might be kind of old, and kind of out of style, but I don’t even care. I’ve tried to like all the cool, modern “underground” (you know, the stuff you can buy at Target) music, but there is nothing better than the ROOTS. You know? Just plain old, straight, ass kicking rock n roll. I can’t really get into the stuff of today, so I gave it up. I’m much happier listening to Mellencamp over Modest Mouse, Queen over Queens of the Stone Age, AC/DC over the Arcade Fire, the Clash over Coldplay. I could keep going with that, but for annoyance’s sake, I won’t. Don’t get me wrong, there’s a lot of good music around these days, but it just doesn’t compare. It’s like putting on a tight yet stylish pair of jeans when you have comfy pajama bottoms that you could wear instead.
I’ll just say that Mellencamp rocked, and if you ever get a chance to see him, even if you’re not all that into him, GO. You won’t regret it. In fact, you’ll love it. You’ll become a believer. There is always such a positive vibe in the air when he plays. It’s amazing. The worst part of the show? The kids standing next to us in the lawn. There was a group of frat boy types that were way too loaded for their own good (hopefully they were all driving themselves home). They were drunk and swaying and stumbling and kept taking their shirts off and putting their arms around each other. I happened to look over at one point and saw a penis. Yep, one of the kids turned around to face his friends, whipped his dick out and pissed in his cup. At that point I was cursing myself that I didn’t have a camera phone, because you know damn well that you would have seen that kids thing here, on the internet. If you’re fine about showing it to me, then I guess it doesn’t matter if the whole world sees it, right? Anyway, that started a chain reaction of all the boys peeing in public. It’s like they were never potty trained. Quite disgusting. Luckily, they weren’t around long. One of them fell over and security asked them to move. Just in time, too, because Ryan was getting ready to kick some ass (he’s so protective of me now, it’s very endearing). After that it was smooth sailing the rest of the night. And it was SO GOOD.
Mellencamp plays non-stop. Every song has a big finish then the band just launches right into the next song. This was my third time seeing him, and this was just his bare bones band. I’ve seen him with a bunch of back up singers and different musicians, but this time was just guitar, bass, drums, violin, keyboards, and a backup vocal. And it was great. He did a couple of acoustic songs with John Fogerty too, which were awesome, my favorite CCR song, Green River, and a great rendition of Rain on the Scarecrow. . He played all of his old songs, and very few new ones. R.O.C.K. in the U.S.A. was so punk rock it hurt. He finished up with Check it Out and Pink Houses. Then as always after a Mellencamp show, there were fireworks. Even those were awesome. They were better than any fireworks display I had seen all weekend. So the show finished on a high note. It was great. And Fuzzball repeatedly kicked the crap out of me.
I was worried all day that it was going to storm, since while I was at work there was really intense thunder and lightening and buckets of rain coming down. But not a drop fell while we were there. It was damp and muddy, but not raining. When we got home at around 1:00, we noticed that one of our chairs was moved in front of the door, which was strange, and a few of our plants were knocked over. We thought the chair was kind of weird, since it was like someone had picked it up and moved it there, but we didn’t think much of it since we were so tired. This morning I went out on the porch to drain my peppers, which are pretty much flooded and on the verge of death from all the rain we’ve had. My rosemary and leaf lettuce are both dead, and the only thing I’ve got left that looks healthy are my tomatoes. So I was trying to drain the peppers so I could maybe salvage them, and I noticed some strange things in our yard. All of my wildflowers and lilies were FLAT. Like someone had just rolled over them. I also have a basket hanger that’s a metal pole with 2 hooks that I have baskets hanging on. It’s in the ground, so you can imagine how surprised I was to see bent to the point that the top of it was touching the ground. A metal pole, bent. As I was holy shitting my way through that, I turned around to our neighbors yard to see a WHOLE TREE down right on the edge of the field. Then another tree down in our lane. There was a HELL of a storm at my house. I’m lucky the shack is still standing. I don’t know if a microburst went through my neighborhood or what, but it’s really weird about the pole and the trees.
I have a lot to talk about this week. There’s a lot on my mind. Some of it is stuff that is aggravating me, some of it is just plain funny.
Here are some of my upcoming topics:
Why you shouldn’t tell people the baby names you picked and how annoying it is when people are gunning for the baby to be a certain sex.
How I survived being left for dead in the rapids of the Clarion River.
What to do when your friend tells you your ass is getting bigger.
The way my drunk dad tried to pronounce “libertarian.”
Pictures of stuff!
And much much more!
In the meantime…
No I cannot forget where it is that I come from
I cannot forget the people who love me
Yeah, I can be myself here in this small town
And people let me be just what I want to be
Tuesday, July 05, 2005
Holiday weekends are great, but you often feel like you need another one when it’s over. Or at least a day just to sleep.
Ryan says thanks everyone for the birthday wishes. I think he thought it was pretty cool that a bunch of people he doesn’t know wanted to wish him a happy birthday. He must be getting old, because he didn’t even finish the gallon of Jack that I bought him AND he was sharing it. So much for drinking for me too.
But although the work week resumes, the weekend is still going strong. I leave right from work tonight to go see John Mellencamp. I’ve heard his show is rockin’ this year, so I’m pretty excited. Then tomorrow we have our 6 month doctor appointment, and hopefully I’ll be able to hook up with ESC at some point later in the week. Oh, and the BIG BUTLER FAIR is this week, so Saturday afternoon I’ll be attending that. I have a lot to look forward to in the next few days, and not a lot of time to relax. But that’s ok… I can relax next week.
I hope everybody had a good long-ish weekend. Yawn. I need a nap.
Friday, July 01, 2005
Today is my husband’s birthday. Ryan, or as I know him, Buddy. He’s 29, although according to our friends, he’s the old man of the group, and therefore is 204.
He’s the one that made my stomach swell to outrageous proportions (but he tells me he loves my roundness, how could I not love that?).
He’s the one who spent his entire school loan refund check to take me out drinking in the fall of 99, and subsequently forgot to pay his rent (we were WASTED. All the time).
He’s the one who proposed to me while I was still wasted.
Since I’ve sobered up, I’ve decided that I make really good decisions when drunk. You know, like having unprotected sex while on antibiotics.
He’s got a great sense of humor. Here he is, dressed up as a Butlerite, and I, as Satan. Two peas in a pod really, Butler and Satan.
And he looks damn fine in a tux.
He’s a musician. You don’t get much sexier than that.
Tonight we will be at camp and he’ll be drinking Jack Daniels, and I’ll be drinking caffeine free Coke and lemonade. I got him tickets to Ozzfest. We get to see Iron Maiden. My child is going to come out of my womb with long hair and an electric guitar, giving the metal salute.
As long as s/he is like her/his daddy, that will be fine with me.
I love you Buddy. Happy Birthday.