Not So Pretty Paper

Today a lady at the gym asked me "when are you due?" I responded "February 19th..." and she said "Oh, but you're so small!" Which made me laugh because I'm a blimp.... but it was a nice thing to say and it made me smile.

After what seems like an eternity, I returned to the Y today with Nicholas, which will be great for the next seven days until his h1n1 vaccine is no longer effective and he needs the booster dose which I will have to lie, cheat, and steal to obtain. le sigh. Anyway, it was nice being Nick free for 45 minutes on the elliptical.



So, rant of the day! Let's talk about Christmas carols that make you feel shitty and hate yourself! LoL. In advance, please pardon my grammar because it gets bad as I get myself all fired up about things.



Target 1 is this sweet little number about a chance encounter on Christmas Eve. How about Dan Fogelberg "Same Old Syne" It's a great tune, don't get me wrong. Here's the jist if you've managedto miss it. Dan runs into his ex girlfriend in the grociery store on Chritmas Eve. They catch up in a car drinking beer. "She says she married her an architect who kept her warm and safe and dry. She would've liked to say she loved the man, but she didn't like to lie." Then they run out of stuff to talk about and the beer runs out so she kisses him and as he walks away, the snow turns into rain.

So merry freaking Christmas. There they are Christmas eve sitting in their cars getting drunk. Mean time, her architect sits at home wondering where the hell is loving wife is? Oh, dont' worry man, she's cozied up with her ex lover talking bad about you. What happened to "love the one you're with?" How about "it's the holiday season, so whoop de doo and dickory dock and don't forget to hang up your sock cuz he'll be comin' down the chimney, down. happy holidays! happy holidays!" How about you see your old lover in the grociery store, give him a hug, tell him "crappy holidays" and go home and have rock your stockings sex with your husband? how bout that?



Target 2 Here's a good one. How about the tried and true Frosty the Snowman? Did Frosty get nailed by a car? Is that why we hope we see him again 'someday' but no one says when? No, really, check the lyrics. "Frosty the snowman knew the sun was hot that day, so he said let's run and we'll have some fun, now, before I melt away. He led them down the streets of town right to the traffic cop, and he only paused a moment when he heard him holler 'stop!' For Frosty the snowman had to hurry on his way, but he waved goodbye saying don't you cry. i'll be back again someday" So first of all, this irresponsible frigid fat guy led my kids down to the streets of town? Was he holding their hands? Did he make sure they looked both ways before crossing? Did he make sure they got home? No he just abandoned them in town. Also- why was he not listening to the traffic cop himself? Did he get hit by a car? i really hope so. What an ass. Did he let himself get nailed by the car to take himself out before he melted into bits in front of my happy little children because he knew the sun was hot that day? Well better to see him get smashed to smithereens on someone's hood than a slow agonizing death as he loses arms and belly fat each day until his brainless ball head separates from the rest of him and plummets to its doom out there on my front lawn. What a bunch of crap. In Florida, we have no snownmen, and I am grateful. So there.l

Target 3 and here is my favorite. Pretty Paper. You like that song? Are you kidding me? Talk about feeling horrible for Christmas. The basics, in case you just like the refrain where it says 'pretty paper pretty pencils,' etc and have never actually listened to the story in the middle are as follows: people are bustling around buying packages for their loved ones and some homeless guy sits on the sidewalk and hopes you don't look at him. you think about stopping but decide not to because you've got too much to do and too much to carry, and he starts bawling his eyes out shouting "pretty paper pretty ribbons of blue wrap your presents to your darlin from you pretty pencils to write 'i love you' pretty paper pretty ribbons...." So there you are shopping and thinking of "silver bells" where even street lights blink of bright red and green and shoppers rush by with their treasures while this poor pathetic unloved wretch lies on the sidewalk talking to himself and crying about wrapping paper. What. the. crap. This isn't even like a Phil Collins "Another Day in Paradise" kind of hate yourself. At least in that song there's a message. The girl is trying to get help and no one will help her, and you need to think twice and help poor people. okay? I get it. Okay, Phil, I'll donate more to Habitat next year. This song? What's the message? Please hate yourself and feel guilty when you buy presents for the people you love because misery is everywhere and life sucks.

So my reccommendation? Listen to the Alvin and the Chipmonks Christmas song, listen to o holy night, listen to the most annoying carol on Earth- Dominick the Donkey- for all I care. Try and avoid those three if you plan on enjoying the holidays!

bah, humbug!

love,
me

Adventures in Suburbia

This may seem so boring to those of you who have bigger adventures, but I have a suburban little life and suburban little adventures.

Nudists at the Y:
So... at my YMCA the women in the ladies locker room have no idea what modesty is about. This particular Y even has the luxury of changing stalls like at a department store dressing room, but no. No. We don't use them. People just walk around completely nude! Without apology. Without a towel. These are people you never. ever. want to see naked. I notice the lovely girls that workout at the Y do not utilize the locker rooms, but rather go home to change. I assume this is because I am not the only one who is utterly freaked out by the cottage cheese thighs, extra skin flaps, and BARE FEET going around. This problem has irked me since I joined, but it is my habit to grab my crap out of the locker and RUN from the changing room before my eyes are burned out of the sockets. Today I took an aqua fit class that required me to shower and change in the dreaded ladies locker room. And there I met up with my Zumba nemesis. (Let me explain... so this lady is about 65 with a very typical NY personality. Pushy, frowny, forbidding looking. Every Tuesday, she takes Zumba which is a personal favorite of mine. Every Tuesday that I attend, I am in the row ahead of her because I apparently have a bit more dancing confidence, and she likes to be in the back. Every time I go to get a drink, however, she immediately takes my space! So then I have to push in on other people who are annoyed by this inconvenience until she fades back into her spot before we repeat the whole damn thing over again next time I need water. I hate do dislike someone I've never met, but I just want to bitch slap that hag. eh hem. sorry. I'll try to contain myself from here forward.) Well, my Zumba nemesis is talking to one of her friends (completely naked as usual), and as she completes a sentence, she bends over and passes her towel through her woman business to dry it. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! Please explain to me what's wrong with drying your woman business in the shower or at least trying to be discrete about it! I mean there she is in front of God and everybody, finishing a sentence, and doing crack maitenance. I was and actually still am simply mortified. Anyway, beware the Pittsford Y if you value modesty and you want to keep your breakfast down!

Wegman's Fish Guys: I needed salmon. That's where it all started. I got a pound and a half and asked if the guy could skin it for me. Upon making the request, the butcher looked like he would rather skin me. He growled and skinned it- or so I thought. When I got home, he had only done half of it! It made me wonder if he wasn't paying attention to the fish while he was imagining skinning the customer or if he did it on purpose!
I went in two days later for catfish. Let me explain- I don't think they do much catfish here. They had a case of pre-sliced, pre-packaged, fresh fish next to the display case. And they did have a package of catfish, 10 fillets or something. I knew we would never eat that, and frozen fish isn't my specialty, so I asked another fine gentleman behind the counter for three filets of catfish.
Fish Guy with the thick NYC accent: we don't have catfish. (said as if i'm dumb and can't read)
me: oh, I'm sorry. I thought since it was in the display case that you may have some behind the glass here.
Fish Guy: all we have is that that's in the case. you want me to break it up for you (spoken harshly as if i also asked him to wash my car and have it valet'd to me with all my grocieries pre-loaded).
me: oh.. uhm... well, maybe something that would be less trouble. uhm. do you have any trout?
Fish guy: no. we don't have no trout. we won't have trout til next Wednesday.
me: oh, oh I see...
Fish guy: you want me to break it up for you. the catfish. because i'll break it up if that's what you need. if thats what you need thats fine. you know we package this stuff together so you can save money, but if that's what you want. fine. fine. i'll break it up for you. (said as if i also needed him to drive me home, unload and put away my groceries, and give me a pedicure).
me: oh... if it's not too much trouble. I'm so sorry...
Fish guy; slaps some fish around and slams it on the counter. growl/smile
me: oh. oh thank you so much. you've been such a dear. thank you.

fish guys hate me...



Baby News: the baby kicks really high- much higher than i ever felt Nicholas move. It kind of makes me think it's a girl except that the baby is also super active! I felt him/her kick five times in a row yesterday morning! Isn't that the cutest?

Nicholas: is amazing. he repeats everything, understands nearly everything, and is learning all kinds of new and interesting ways to assert his authority.

I miss Matthew. He'll be home next Friday night. Seems like forever already, but at least the weekend is over. I hate weekends without him. so much.

Rant-Tastic

So let's talk about themes. Let's talk about self-sacrifice and suicide of a main character in a pleasure novel because it's more widespread than it sounds. Matter of fact, I've read two books in a row with this irritating little undercurrent. Kate Mosse offered Leonie Vernier in her novel Sepulchre up to the alter of tragic under- achievement. Leonie was strong, intelligent, adventurous, and a virgin when she ended what should have been a life of suares, operas, and courtship in 18th century France. Her stupid brother and his stupid lover got into a ridiculous amount of trouble ending in their deaths, which meant Leonie spent her time locked away in the countryside playing mommy to their son. Fine, fine. Familial duty above all else of course. Then she died letting some crazy Visigoth demon thing murder her in the sepulchre on her property so that her nephew and the house staff could escape a band of marauders led by none other than the guy who killed her brother and sister in law. Next I read The Gargoyle by Andrew Davidson. It's highly forgettable, and I don't reccomend it. His character, Marianne Engelthal has apparently been installed with an excessive number of hearts which she is to give away one by one until the last which she is to bestowe upon her lover from a past life. Then, she can only go ahead on her trip to heaven (1300 years after originally receiving the hearts as a pennance for mercy killing) if he allows her to kill herself without a fight. In the end, she dives off naked into the sea and her man doesn't stop her. He then lives the rest of his life pining for her and wishing he stopped her even though he knew it would have been "wrong" to stop her. Novelists. Please quit killing off main characters with suicides. It's exhausting. I get all attached to them. I want them to be my little literary buddies. I start knowing their little habits and being able to think in their frames of mind. And then you kill them off. Worse than that you have them kill themselves off at horribly tragic times. Leonie had done NOTHING with her life yet except mommy someone else's kid, and Marianne spent some 700 years wandering about giving out hearts and trying to find this guy she loved so much so that when she finally did find the guy she offed herself moments after their first kiss. what. the. hell.

Here's another one I really like. Death of a main character in children's books and movies. Please explain to me what is to be taken from the Velveteen freaking Rabbit. The little kid loved his toy, abandoned his toy, and then once he needed its comfort again, his mother had to burn it. Please tell me what this teaches my child. What message should I help him understand from this book? Life sucks and then you die? ps don't get scarlet fever or i'll have to burn your blankey. How ridiculous. Or here's a good one. How about Lilo and Stitch. Did you see that crap? That poor little mongrel child lost her mommy and then her sister who is stressed out and busy has to put up with her antics. What message is there for my child? Well, little Nicky, if Mommy dies, be a good boy or karma will send you a little blue alien to get you in trouble all the time, befriend you, and then be taken away back to the mother ship.

I refuse to watch movies that I know end tragically. ie Marley and Me. Are you kidding? I'm going to watch some idiot dog make trouble followed by his untimely demise and the torture of a family? Yeah. Right. Dogs die in real life okay? I don't go to the movies for that crap! I paid 4.27 to rent this trash from blockbuster so that i could cry for an hour after it was over? i think not. If i'm going to watch a movie, it damn well better end happily because it's not like I'm going to get that relaxation time back. I cry over news reports okay? I cry when Nick acts up in the grociery store. I do not need ammunition for sadness, and if I did I would read stories about Saint Jude's Children's Hospital or talk to burn survivors or something I don't know.

So here's my message to all venues of entertainment. Make it peppy or lose your audience in Mrs. Ratnesar.

phew. thanks for letting me get that out. i feel much better now :)

The YMCA

Okay this is the second time I've typed this blog entry. My fingers are absolutely not used to where they are supposed to go on this laptop. I keep opening up shortcuts and deleting whole passages that I didn't even intend to highlight. I'm trying not to throw it out the window- but...

So I went to bed at 8 last night. it was fantastic, and I think I want to follow up with a repeat performance tonight. Yesterday I was emotional, out of breath, and apparently exhausted. All the sleep really made a difference in my disposition today, that's for sure. So I went to pilates this morning and didn't even work up a sweat which was disappointing. I know, however, that I will be sore tomorrow so that's good.

I'm beginning to understand why they're called the terrible twos. Nick really made me a little crazy today. So crazy in fact that the story i'm about to tell almost didn't happen because I felt like I shouldn't have taken him to the Y's Adventure Center considering how he was acting. Then the good advice fairy in the form of my mommy dropped in, and I decided to take him.

The adventure center is a totally padded indoor playground with lots of stackable shapes and blocks and a giant "mountain" slide. After convincing my tear-filled baby to come in with me (he thought i was dropping him off at child watch again), we arrived around 5P. Then I notice whom the attendant was. Great. The attendant is this girl I have a bit of a personal problem with.

Let me pause to fill you in on the background. A few weeks ago, I took Nick to the Y for them to watch him while i went to my first OB appointment. This girl- we'll call her Cynthia- was managing child watch. She grumpily gathered my information, thrust my bracelet at me, abruptly informed me of what I needed to know, opened the gate and shuffled my child in. No smile. No hello. Nothing. Nicholas was a bit lost that morning, and as I left I peered in the window. There was my most precious treasure standing in the middle of the room holding his blanket and sucking his fingers. He looked lost, afraid, and overwhelmed. She ignored him and tended to some matter of administrative work that apparently needed to be done. I was so angry! I felt like "why the hell are you working in child watch if you don't like kids?!" Long story short, I resolved that if i ran into that situation again I would report her ass to the highest authority and respectfully request that they ask her to pretend like she cared about children when dealing with me and mine.

So anyway, here I was face to face with her again. Snarl. There was one other family playing and we all got along fine until that family left. There we were- Nicholas, myself, and Cynthia. And then the strangest most wonderful thing happened. We began to chat. Cynthia knew Nick's name without me even telling her. She knew how he's a gear head and loves anything with wheels. She knew that he can count to twelve. We began to chat about her nursing school and how she wants to work at St. Jude's. We talked about dealing with kids on a daily basis and all kinds of things. I cannot tell you how glad I was that I was too busy that last time I saw her to report her. She's a very sweet girl with a great big heart. She's only got one year of nursing school left before she's a registered nurse. All this to say that I turned an adversary into a friend. I can't wait to drop Nick off at Childwatch with her this week. I'm confident that she will say hello to us both and that she will make my little cherub feel as special as he is.

In other news, I've got to read my Love and Logic book again. I think I'm getting lazy and need to remind myself of some key concepts because my child went from super angel to psycho brat in about two months. Now granted he's not a psycho all the time. Not even most the time, but I just feel that we will both lead happier more fulfilling lives if Mommy is pleased. You know?

Also- I was wrong about the date for my first ultrasound. It's tomorrow!! So I hope to have a happy report for you about child watch for Nick and also some first pictures of our little pollywog (who is the size of a lime this week :) )

More later!...

Cheese Cake

There's a Cheese Cake Factory waaaaaaaaaaay too close in proximity to my home. In other news, I've only gained one pound (due only to my dwindling will power to avoid cheesecake factory). I did Zumba today and got through the whole class. I'm eleven weeks along and have an ultrasound scheduled not this Friday, but next. Nicholas' birthday is tomorrow, and I have no idea what we'll be doing, but i'll figure it out and if nothing else will just be sweet to him tomorrow. i watched myself in my the mirror in class thinking how i looked the fattest and most out of shape of any of them- including most the old ladies. I attribute this to the belly which, at this point, isn't quite maternity clothes ready and is also horrible looking in regular clothes. i hate those pre-belly months where you just look like a fatty. flossing and make up have been going well. although the make up doesn't make me feel as good as I'd hoped. Sorry if I seem a bit bla. Nicholas woke up an hour early from his nap SCREAMING. He later told me his mouth hurt, so I gave him some Tylenol and hope that helps. I watched a discovery health series last night on obese women giving birth. One got gestational diabetes, one absolutely could not progress labor along (they had to do an internal monitor of the baby's heart rate b/c you couldn't hear it through her layers of fat and they kept having to give her extra-human doses of petocin. 36 hours of labor later, they did a c section), and another who i watched them tape her back fat away in what looked like an experiment in duct tape prom dresses so that they could insert the damned epidural needle. Needless to say I pledge to my fetus not to eat potatoes for the next 9 months. I will request curly fries as a post delivery treat. Holy crap. anyway, motivation for the day is- i want to look good doing zumba again one day.

i've got to get my eyebrows waxed, mow the yard, and get my haircut before matthew gets home in September. I miss him le tons.

prenatal, pre-nesting

The dog watched in a combination of dismay and disbelief as i climbed in and around his kennel with a canister of quick re-load lysol wipes and air freshener/disinfectant spray. He looked down and away as if to say, "no good can come of this." Nonetheless, he smells like a ram's ass (even after his bath two days ago,) and his bed smells like a ram's ass. So at least now the smell won't be quite as potent drifting into my super sensitive mommy nostrils from the corner of the bedroom. Jaeger does not share my affinity for lysol's "fresh open window" scent and has refused to go into his kennel until that smell has died away and he has more possibility of making it wreak again of his own special blend of ram's ass and dog dander. I've been taking each room on its own and dusting the baseboards, cleaning the windows, washing the draperies and carpets, and of course mopping the floors. Today's episode was my bedroom, which included Jaeger's kennel and bedding. Poor pup. I went to the Y today. I skipped yesterday citing my intention to clean. Clean I did, but my panting, lazy ass at the gym today indicated to me that apparently cleaning is not the same as working out. Another lesson learned. I've felt homesick, Matthew lonely, motivated, peppy, dreary, and just plain numb today. My emotions certainly are getting a workout. I've been reading "siblings without rivalry" and just finished first "love and logic: magic for toddlers", then "your second child", then "the doomsday key", then "sepulchre." it feels nice to read for pleasure again. I'm sure all of that will die off for another full year once the baby is born le sigh. I caught myself saying, "but... i don't wanna do that whole labor, delivery, three months of tears from coming off the hormones and lack of sleep thing again," today. I tell myself it's worth it and take another Maalox for the heartburn which reminds me, i ought to buy some more of that. It occurred to me that my diet goes progressively downhill all day. I've got to figure out how to make better lunch choices. In the mean time, salad is definetly out. The sight of a bottle of dressing makes me want to run screaming like my hair is on fire. Maybe I'll try cream cheese. That would make me eat a salad. Sorry- that probably makes you feel ill doesn't it? I have dreams of swimming in vats of cream cheese with organically grown purple grapes. mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. So tomorrow I will take on the hallway, the "laundry room", and the smaller bathroom, and probably begin the living room. I've enjoyed not starting with the kitchen this time. Every time i start at the kitchen, i finish 88% of it and say "oh good lord. i'd rather watch Yo Gabba Gabba with Nick than do this trash." yes. I know. I'm the epitome of motivation. In other news, it's 9:41 and I'm not comatose. This is progress! Well, enough babbling for tonight. Is it October yet? come on, october.

goodnight y'all ;)

Tuesday and Day 2

So cardio kickbox was disappointing. Not because the class wasn't good, but because I was disappointing. I hadn't worked out in about four days due to extenuating circumstances, which i know is inexcusable, but it's a long story. Anyway. So I only got through half the class before I was huffing and puffing and I could feel my heart rate exceeding well over 160. I really shouldn't be going over 140 says my OB/GYN, Dr. Cunningham. So I took three breaks, but couldn't seem to get my heart rate back down, and I left. It irritated me, and I hope I'll be able to finish the class at some point soon. In the mean time, I don't know what workout I will do today. I got a great night's sleep last night, which of course didn't stop me from feeling exhausted this morning.
In other news, I didn't floss last night and I really need to drink more water.

Adieu for now

ohhhh it's Monday

So it's Monday, and I find myself trying to figure out what the hell I'm doing. I watched wifeswap and this huge bitchy woman and her fat miserable husband got traded with the fitness husband and wife team who runs the Dallas Cowboys cheer camps. It occurred to me I'm flabbily in the middle of the two. I'm pretty productive, relatively pretty, kind of self-sacrificing. Not really anything exceptional. So I decided I would blog through this pregnancy. You see, I have a beautiful two year old- well he will be two on the 20th, and I'm pregnant with number two. I've decided to use the real numbers to make this blog especially real and painful because I fear I won't be honest with you if I don't. So here I am. Day 1. I pledge to give you my honest weight. When I got pregnant with Nick, I was at 135. I was by no means where I wanted to be then, but I felt pretty good about the things I wore. I was a size 8. I gained 50 pounds with Nicholas (you do the math, okay. I refuse to type in that I weighed that much). It is my goal to lose 1 pound after the birth of the second baby. I figure in order to do that, I'll need to gain a total of 19 pounds during the pregnancy. Yeah that's about 11 less than last time.

So here are the goals
1) eat at least 1 vegetable today (i'm already good on the fruit front)
2) reduce carbohydrates and starches, esp. potato products that are, in fact, the devil
3) be an awesome high energy mom for my son by keeping myself "healthy"
4) gain only 19 pounds during the pregnancy
5) listen to my husband- the army fitness guru
6) floss.
7) wear makeup 5 days a week and wash my face every day.

So tonight the plan is to attend cardio kickboxing at 6:30, but I"m not sure how realistic it is. Nicholas hasn't been to the Y in about a week, and I always get nervous about him adjusting after he's been gone for a while. 6:30 is also usually when we lay around, veg out, have a snack and some m-i-l-k, and get ready for bed. But the Y's class schedules are less than compatible with my schedule, and it's clear to me that if I want to change my life I am going to need to change my eating habits, my way of thinking of food, and most certainly my schedule. So I'll let you know how it turns out. It is my intention to write you whenever I am craving something delightful. You understand this means we will be chatting a lot, I'm sure.

Well, it's 444, and I'm going to get things prepared. Wish me luck... we've got a long road ahead.