The Late, Late Blog

This is my smorgasbord (sp.?) blog, as in, a little bit of everything. Like a variety show.

One of those days:  woke up to a gray, rainless sky after a series of odd, vivid dreams from 8am-10am.  The only one I can most fully recall involves turning a downward flowing stream into a huge bubble bath and floating in it.  Just floating down a stream full of bubbles (my wildest fantasies come true! you GO, subconscious!).

Another vague memory is being involved in busting up a white-collar crime scheme, in which I spoke lines worse than David Caruso’s on whichever CSI he is on…oh right, sunglasses: Miami?

I remember pulling out my cell phone, flicking it open, and saying something like, “Why don’t we call the police right now and ask THEM?”  Also, wearing red lipstick.  And Jennifer Connelly showed up because she’s like THE spokeswoman for red lipstick ads.  Man, my brain is so functional it’s scary.

Okay, done writing about my dreams…mostly, they are interesting only to the person who had the dream.  Sometimes, when someone starts telling me a dream that’s totally effed up (“Then, all of a sudden, there was a Unicorn!  But then I wasn’t at school anymore, I was at the mall, and I was naked!  And my ex boyfriend was there, wearing a gorilla suit…”), I kind of zone out.  I confess.  If you zoned out during that first paragraph, I forgive you.

I signed up to be a part of this writing project called SPARK! art from writing, writing from art which my dear friend, Amy, runs, and which I have taken part in twice before.  My piece is due by Saturday, and I just started the big work on it tonight at Barnes and Noble, with some English Breakfast tea and quite possibly the worst piece of carrot cake I’ve ever put in my mouth (to prove it, I didn’t even finish it.   And I am six months pregnant and a sugar whore currently).  Anyway, I think I let my ideas percolate too long, like a teabag steeping overtime in some hot water.  And now, I have too much to write and only 1500 words or less to write it in.  My work so far feels fragmented, but that may be all I can offer on a deadline.  I will have to be okay with it.  The good thing is that I can build from whatever I submit now, that I’ve had some inspiration.

It’s been hard to write through the pregnancy.  The first 4 months or so, I couldn’t at all.  I would sit down and just get completely overwhelmed.  Sometimes, there were tears.  Sometimes I’d write a couple lines–badly.  Sometimes I’d just start jotting down the lyrics to whatever song was playing at the time, as though it might jumpstart my own words.  Finally, in July, I had a great burst of inspiration from my real life and wrote a three part piece I was pretty proud of (posted on the blog of the lovely and amazing Ulysses…just call me Penelope) after being stalled for so long.  It’s still just in draft form (I’d call this the second draft…it went from handwritten on paper to typed into a Microsoft Word document–that was the extent of revision). I used part of it as my inspiration piece for my visual artist-partner.   Between then and now, I’ve dabbled in some morning pages, other blogs, letter-writing, and amateurish attempts at songwriting, but no fiction (my true love).  So with this round of Spark, I have been really determined to return to my craft.  Tomorrow, I hope to work most of the day and come up with something relatively cohesive.  Will keep you posted when it’s…er, posted.

Halloween is on Saturday.  I’m not dressing up (can’t remember my last costumed Halloween–for all my dramatics, I’ve surprisingly never been big on dressing up), though I will be here at home to hand out candy, and maybe get  some ideas for my little babe’s costume for next year (she will be almost 9 months old then!  how crazy is that?!).  And the great thing is, I can treat myself to some candy.  My parents always buy enough for the whole neighborhood and we typically only get a handful of kids.  Score one for the BUMP! My mom already bought the candy…and she HID it somewhere! Evil, evil woman.  I’m surprised with my highly-enabled sense of smell (one of those pregnancy superpowers), I haven’t found it yet.  I’m disappointed.

Now, to bed.  On my side, snuggling the body pillow (best pregnancy gift so far), wishing sleep came faster (but at night is when the little one tends to be her most awake, kicking and punching self).  Bonsoir, mes amis.

Who’s Afraid of the Big Bad Swine?

I don’t ever mean to offend anyone, especially anyone who’s been sick, or had a sick relative or friend, but the whole swine flu thing is really beginning to piss me off.  During my student teaching days, we watched a little film called “The Culture of Fear.” (Anyone seen it?) It’s about the way our relationships/society can be controlled by fear.  Let’s drop some other buzz words alongside h1n1:  Terrorism.  Anthrax.  AIDS.  Bird Flu.  Y2K (yeah, remember that?).

I’m not saying we have nothing to fear.  That would be naive and stupid.  But as a pregnant woman, right now, I am stuck with this choice:  do I get a vaccination that I know little to nothing about because there is so much media hype over this illness or do I trust my instincts and not get vaccinated and potentially risk getting this “deadly” flu?  Either way I feel judged.  Either way I feel unsafe.

People are waiting in line for vaccinations at public places like YMCA’s and the Department of Health here.  It strikes me as odd.  Aren’t huge public gatherings what we’re suggested NOT to be a part of  if there is a chance of the presence of the disease?  Does it seem to anyone else that the rise of the vaccine has also led to a rise in the diagnosis of the illness? Something fishy is going on. That’s just how I feel.

I’m tired of being afraid.  I’m tired of hand sanitizer.  I’m tired of being ask if I got the shot, or being told I should get the shot.  I’m tired of 24/7 coverage of….a flu.  Other flus can be deadly too.  Somehow, this one has gotten out of hand.  I have enough to worry about just having a healthy pregnancy in general, and bringing a child into the world. To a scary world.   Maybe I am being a little naive, but I think we could all benefit from a little naivety, from losing a little of the jadedness, the cynicism, the media-induced hypochondria.

I know moms, especially new moms, are full of fears.  But let’s be truly informed about these things.  I think we’re being fooled into thinking we’re informed.  I know this is a hot button issue.  Here what I’m saying:  does it really have to be?  I want to see statistics, I want to see medical research articles.  We’re smart people (most of us, anyway).  We should be treated that way by our government and our medical providers.  Instead, we’re being treated like cattle.

I’m tired of the broken record.  Give me facts.  Let me make an informed decision.  Tell me what’s real.  Until then, I’m not going near another needle or listening to another damn, idiotic news report.

Revelation: I am not Heidi Klum

Perhaps it should have been obvious sooner.  I’m not a Victoria’s Secret model, nor am I the host of Project Runway, nor am I married to Seal.  Nor do we have any physical resemblance or familial relation.  But I’m specifically referring to pregnant Heidi, strutting around at 8 months pregnant in shoes like this:

It was no premiere party, but my sis and I had our six-month Miskabelle Etsy celebration last night, and I decided to get glammed up.  I have always been a lover of heels and a despiser of flats.  A few days before the soiree I purchased the most adorable pair of black suede mary jane platform heels (the platform to make the 4 inches of heel more comfortable and easier to walk in).  And they made my short legs look a mile longer in black tights.  And for the first two hours, I was strutting around with the best of them, basking in the glow of, “You do NOT look six months pregnant” compliments. My feet ached a little, sure, but I felt like a star.

Until about midnight last night when I tried to go to sleep and realize how much my body was aching from the feet (which got the worst of it) up.

My dad would always tease my sister and I about our attire when we were going out somewhere, saying, “Why be comfortable if you can be fashionable?”  I would roll my eyes.  Typically, I can do heels all day and be fine.  I’m used to them.  They also aren’t usually four inches and I’m also not usually carrying a baby as I wear them.  I just don’t know how pregnant celebs do it!  They must have a personal masseuse along for the ride.  I was lamenting my lack of personal masseuse last night, that’s for sure.

Am I in denial?  No, I know my body is changing.  But who doesn’t want to be that hot mama? At least, as long as the belly’s not getting in the way?  I know, once I am huge, I will surrender to constant sneaker and sweats.  But for now, I’m still going to try to look my best–I love fashion, I work in fashion, I think fashion is a great creative outlet.  It’s been fun having the chance to get creative with outfits as I outgrow clothes and purchase new ones–mini dresses have become tunics, long tanks are frequently layered under tops that no longer fully cover the bump, and sometimes, menswear sections have the most awesome oversized finds ever–especially cozy boyfriend cardigans.

Will I wear those heels again during my pregnancy?  Maybe–but not for three hours straight!  I am taking on a new identity as a mama, for sure, but I don’t think that means giving up my identity as a fashion-lover either.  I think there is a line, of course:  my baby girl will matter to me more than anything else in the world, even cute shoes.

Sharon, mom of a 4 month old and Me, 23 weeks prego

(At this point in the photo-shooting, I believe I had changed into slippers…)

When Nothing Satisfies–Not Even a Snickers.

Can anyone relate to this feeling?  Standing in the kitchen for what feels like half an hour, opening cupboards, then the refrigerator, then the pantry, then reopening them, then finally standing, motionless, in the middle of the floor, ready to cry?

Okay, I exaggerate, maybe not ready to cry.  When I am hungry and there is “nothing to eat” in the house, I just get kind of angry.  Some days nothing looks appealing.  Most days for me currently, nothing healthy looks appealing.  But if you ask me what I’m hungry for, I also probably can’t give you an answer.  However, stick me inside a Wegman’s with a cart and I bet you I can fill it up in five minutes (mostly with fresh pastries, and anything from the olive bar).

When I used to daydream about being pregnant (before it was a reality), there was always that whole excitement about being able to eat whatever you want and not feeling guilty, eating for two, strange cravings, etc.  I thought for sure I would have gained 50 pounds by now, at almost 6 months pregnant–fortunately, I’m only at about plus or minus ten. The road was not what I expected:  the first trimester was full of food aversions and weight LOSS.  I don’t even really remember much about what I was eating except sour things (candy, salt and vinegar chips…these are still in my menu on a regular basis).  The second trimester, my appetite has definitely returned–I’ve even been able to choke down some protein here and there.  I’ve had sudden cravings come on (one evening I found myself shout from my bedroom out to the living room to my family, “I want apple crisp!” as though it would magically appear, and when it did not, dragged myself into the kitchen and proceeded to cook an apple in the microwave with brown sugar, butter, some cinnamon and lemon–a pretty good substitute), but no “weird” cravings.

I’ve always been a fan of food.  Sometimes it’s been an enemy too.  Sometimes a comfort.  I would love to say I am eating some super-healthy diet with my baby, lots of greens and vitamins–but honestly?  The last time I put a lettuce leaf in my mouth, it was so awful I had to spit it out.  I am definitely trying to make healthy choices, while still treating myself to the occasional indulgence.  Balance is key!

I’m still hungry, but dinnertime is approaching…I may be making a visit to Sheetz, for a healthy (ish?) sandwich of sorts, and of course, a little treat on the side (donuts are also looking really tempting these days).  I think my little sweetie is going to have a sweet-tooth, just like her mama. Ah, I suppose there are worse things…

Strategic Dressing for Pregnant Job Interviews

School District Office.  10 am.  Job interview.

“So, you’re pregnant, I see?”

“Yeah, due in February.  I feel huge!”

(Close-lipped smile from administrator.) “So you’ll need maternity leave?”

“Assuming all goes well!”

(Another close-lipped smile.) “We’ll call you.”

This is the kind of scenario that played in my paranoid head before attending an interview to be a substitute teacher this morning (yes, just a substitute and I was still a little crazy).  I know the law says businesses cannot discriminate against pregnant women, but…how can they not?!  I mean, I’m pregnant and I’m still on the side of the higher-ups.  The interview process is a pain, and when you have a good fit for a position, you want to keep them there as long as possible.  But pregnant women need to work like everyone else (especially single pregnant women who are living with their parents).  So what to do?

Wear an empire waist top, not too large or long.  Try bright blue satin.  Pull on some black pants and an oversized black cardigan to carefully disguise the bump.  Slide your feet into a pair of heels that are high, but walk-able (no flats! Everyone will know you’re pregnant! Dead giveaway!).  This was my course of action– I looked like I was 10 pounds lighter all over again.

The interview was actually great, and I don’t think it was all that dependent on my outfit.  The topic of pregnancy never came up (not that I really thought it would).  But you know what I realized?  I love my little bump, that little curve under my tee shirt that’s growing by  the day.  I don’t love maternity jeans (I feel like my stomach, and baby, in turn, are suffocating!  Plus, do they all have to be so flared?  It’s no longer the mid-90s.  And to return to my previous pregnancy and consumerism rant, I am not paying $200 for designer skinny jeans, even though I’m desperate for a pair to tuck into my many wonderful pairs of boots). Occasionally, I am thankful for the rear end coverage of maternity jeans–no breeze when you squat down to pick something up, ’cause they’ve got you covered up to your mid-back!  SCORE! I have also taken to wearing low-rise jeans that sag below the belly–my favorite pair is out of the Gap men’s section, 3 or 4 sizes larger than what I might typically wear on my typical waist.

These are the fun changes of pregnancy…for now.  Early on, with changing hormones, there was all the sickness, and tiredness, and anxiety.  Later on, the belly bump will be so huge as to be undisguisable, and creating back pain, and swelling, and other fun things.  But right now, at the halfway point, in the second trimester, I’m admittedly feeling a bit of that pregnancy glow.  And a vicious craving for all things containing sugar (I forced down crackers and spinach dip for lunch, despite my longing for a whole bag of sour patch kids–go me!).

Bonjour, Bebé.

I would say it’s a little premature maybe to call my blog “Chill Mama”…first off, because I’m not yet a mama–though in about three months, I will be.  Secondly, because it somehow implies that I’m really into prenatal yoga, which is sadly untrue, despite purchasing a Prenatal Yoga DVD.  I didn’t like yoga before I got pregnant, and being pregnant does not make me like it any more.  But also, let’s face it. I’m not exactly in a place I’d call “chill” (we’ll call the titling choice wishful thinking):  I’m 27 and living at home, five months out of graduate school with no job, pregnant without insurance–due to the whole no job thing–not the most ideal circumstances in which to bring a baby into the world, at least, to the undiscerning eye.  And I think I’ve actually become so much less worried about those sorts of eyes, since becoming wholly focused on another pair of eyes, just developing on a little head…it’s truly freeing when your life begins to revolve around someone besides you.

Though I still have my days, of course, with all the physical woes of pregnancy, when I’m dying for a massage, manicure, pedicure, or whining about back pain, or taking a three hour nap instead of helping rake leaves…fortunately, this world allows a little room for moms-to-be to be a little demanding and unreasonable and completely and utterly selfish (there is a statute of limitations of nine months, plus maybe three additional postpartum.  After that, no excuse!).

I keep browsing pregnancy and parenting blogs (which are mostly focused around absurd baby commercialism:  infant onesie for $45?  No, thank you, even if it does say My Mom is Hotter than Your Mom), reading message boards, obssessing over pictures of Heidi Klum, making lists of names–and crossing names out when I hear them called in the grocery store or at a restaurant or on a bad TV series, hanging out with my Mommy-friends, and basically, trying to make sense of this culture that is both comfortingly familiar and completely foreign.

I am keeping this blog so my baby can know what I was thinking right now, as she kicked and punched me (yes, it’s a she!) and forced (yes, FORCED!) me to consume an ice cream sundae with hot fudge after 8 pm.  I’m keeping this blog so other moms or moms-to-be might have something to read that doesn’t include multiple links to BabiesRus or anxiety-ridden rants about the h1n1 virus(though to be fair, I confess, I keep three bottles of antibacterial hand gel in various places and use them religiously now after being in public places).  I am keeping this blog for me, so that I keep writing.  One thing I know for sure is that I can’t give up all of my dreams and ambitions just because I have a baby–that’s just begging for me to become one of those parents who resents their child and/or tries to live vicariously through them.  I am a writer, and I will write. (If I don’t do it now when the baby’s inside my belly, what will I do when she’s out here in the world, begging for my attention?)  I’m keeping this blog as a place to gather my thoughts, which are obviously all over the place all day long.  Also, finally, to explore some of the weirdness and preciousness of this whole pregnancy adventure.

Maybe my title choice is really a command:  “Chill, Mama.”  Everything’s gonna be alright. (TANGENT:  Hey, remember on the horribly-written, yet inexplicably-nostalgic Saved by the Bell when Slater would call his girlfriend, Jessie, Mama all the time?  What the heck was that all about?)