11.10.2009

anticipation

Warning to BB: Don't freak out when you read this post. Just don't... please.

Are we ready? Alright. I went to the midwife yesterday to get checked out because I'm a little past due and something happened to me that wasn't one of those things I was told to look out for. I hate when that happens. I got checked up the skirt and had a fetal monitor strapped to me for 20 minutes (I have a new love for Lauren J for being hooked up to that thing while being in labor). Suffice to say, baby's doing awesome, daddy's calm, and mommy's waiting for a big obvious sign; like an Acme anvil being dropped on my head or something close to that.

Sometime around 1am this morning I started to feel uncomfortable. Really uncomfortable. Like changing-the-position-or-going-to-the-bathroom-doesn't-solve-it uncomfortable. Well, I am currently at home, still in my jammies, timing my frequent cramps. So far it's been inconsistent. For about half an hour I'll get the 30 second contractions ever 10 minutes, then I'll be 20 minutes without anything, then 30 second contractions every 5 minutes for 20 minutes. This might be Braxton-Hicks (aka false labor) contractions. Nothing to call the midwife about. (For those of you not in the know, true labor, more often than not, has a predictable pattern that begins with contractions that last for 30 seconds, ever 10 minutes, for an hour or more. The contractions then begin to increase in length of time and occur closer together as the baby nears.)

All I can think is: when will I start to notice a pattern? I wonder if I can take Tylenol for this pain? And, how can I get my hands on a big bowl of Pasta Carbonara? I might be more concerned with the pasta than anything else at this point. But that's okay.

Don't worry, as soon as I end up going to the hospital the phone-tree will begin. In the mean-time hang tight, cross your fingers for me, and will someone please stop by with a pasta lunch for me?

11.09.2009

well, someone appreciates my gratitude


*Photo courtesy of Lauren J and the bean. Also, brought to you by the letter "A." Awwww.

11.06.2009

banter, with a side of baby

The following is a text conversation that took place between IPJ and myself yesterday. The texts were edited to be legible (primarily because I'm a horrible speller) for the reader.

IPJ: Baby hat mach two finished. Are you free tomorrow? I'm done at 11.
me: Yeah, but I'm staying close to home. 1 cm dilated and 70% effaced. Can you make it out this way and I can meet you for dessert-lunch near the subway?
IPJ: Ew. Could we meet around 2 or 3 or is that too late?
me: No, that's great. Just let me know when you are available and I'll meet you. Does a Greek dessert sound like a good lunch?
IPJ: That's not code for eating like a pudding made out of your broken water is it? I'm going to try to shop for a bed tomorrow then head up to your area afterward.
me: Um haha no! Where would you get that idea (nervous laugh). Hope your bed shopping is successful.
IPJ: They just made that on Iron Chef. The secret ingredient was baby!
me: I bet it tasted like chicken.
IPJ: But like three times as expensive! Baby prices have gotten out of control.
me: I won't eat baby. Do you know how they're treated? Veal has a more humane existence than baby does.
IPJ: Oh please. Babies don't have feelings.
me: Pu-leeze. I see those commercials that have Sarah McLaughlin singing "In the Arms of an Angel" and the sad pitiful faces of the babies in cages.
IPJ: Left wing liberal propaganda. Those were probably her kids in a set up shot. If you don't support baby eating you don't support America!
me: Oh, just because I have an opinion that makes me a socialist.
IPJ: This was the best text conversation I've ever had. Also, I know you are but what am I?
me: This is soo going on my blog for the world to experience.

11.05.2009

did you rock the vote?

I stumbled across an article in the Times about this past Tuesday's mayoral election. You should read it. I thought this would be a piece that would feed my loathing for a person who circumvented the law for their own desire. Instead, I ended up being as equally upset at someone else. The registered voter who does not vote. Note the percentage of people in this town who actually voted.

*****DISCLAIMER: The following is a rant. Read at your own caution. The writer of this post/blog is not responsible for any frustration or physical reaction you may experience while reading this post.*****

PEOPLE, you can't have an opinion about politics unless you participate in the political system. The most basic way for you to do that is to vote. Yes, your vote does count. If you took the time to register you should take the time to go to the polls. You think that not voting is a statement. You think that voting for the lesser of two major party evils is effective. Horseshit! This city does a slightly better than good job on informing and introducing candidates to the voters. I don't know about you, but I got a printed publication in the mail, for free mind you, that told me who was running for which office in my voting districts. Primary and general elections. For a group of people who like to get on tv and complain about their crooked landlords, how a business did them wrong, or what bad people the police are, New Yorkers sure don't like to take the time out to flip a few knobs or punch a few holes in a ballot, even though it's their right and responsibility to do so.

does this mean i'm one of your friends in low places?

Well, it's been 3 days since I've said something like, "No, I don't even have one ticket. If I had a ticket I wouldn't tell you the show was sold out, now would I." (sigh) I've been home, by myself, trying to prepare for baby. Last minute dusting and laundry and shopping. (ugh) Domestic duties.

So hard to get out of the routine that is work. I miss my co-workers who are also my friends. So I miss my friends. Alot. Who's going to call me around noon and say "What are you doing for lunch, preggo?" Who's going to try to talk to me through a wall? Who's going to sing songs about vegetables? Who? The baby won't, that's for sure. She'll be nice to me. She won't call me a dirty slut or a cheap whore or a nasty bitch. But I do miss those terms of endearment. I miss my other non-work related friends too. All of them. I just want to go out shopping, or to a restaurant for brunch, or to a play. I guess I'm preparing a life of friends coming over to coo and smile over the baby, of play-dates, of doctors appointments, of mommy and me classes, of mommy and me everything. I'm looking forward to it, even if my voice is the only one I'll hear for 8 -10 hours most days. (waaaahhh)

Please ignore my whine. The loneliness must be setting in pretty deep. Perhaps I should find one of these to talk to:


Naaa. I'll walk down the road of loneliness, but I won't travel the path of craziness. Yet. The baby and I will be just fine.

11.03.2009

the truck of revelations

I've been meaning to post these pictures for a while. These were taken on my summer road trip.


Ah-hm, close up please.


Word.

there's a hole in your logic

The news is promoting lies... LIES I tell you!

Get a load of this headline I found online today:
Foods that make you sad. It was found underneath this picture:


Now, let's get real. Have you ever encountered a donut that made you sad? A little feh, perhaps. But never sad. Glazed, powered, chocolate frosted, Boston cream, old fashioned, jelly filled, and all of the holiday inspired seasonal donuts like the pumpkin spiced ones that are out right now.

Who ARE these people that are allowed to put this rubbish online? If I saw them on the street I'd kick them in the balls, and then feel bad about the violence I inflicted, and then make myself feel better by getting and eating half a dozen munchkins. See, donuts do make things all better.

10.29.2009

story time: peter and the [___]

This is how Erica, Kansas, Bbaker and I spent our afternoon.

Bbaker tells us that she doesn't know the story of Peter and the Wolf. I only remember the version that Disney created. Erica says, "why don't we look it up on Wikipedia?" Okay. So, I get online to look it up and begin to read the synopsis. Kansas says, "wouldn't it be funny if the duck pooped?" Yes, yes it would. We could read the synopsis like a Mad Lib.

I would like to share with you a brief telling of Peter and the Wolf. When you read the following passage, every time you see "[___]" please add the word poop, or the correct tense of the word poop.

Peter, a Soviet Young Pioneer, is at his grandfather's home in a forest clearing. One day Peter goes out into the clearing, leaving the garden gate open, and the duck that lives in the yard takes the opportunity to go [___] on the nearby pond. She starts arguing with a little bird ("What kind of bird are you if you can't [___]?" – "What kind of bird are you if you can't [___]?"). Peter's pet cat sneaks up on them, and the bird —warned by Peter— flies to safety in a tall tree while the duck swims to [___] in the middle of the pond.

Peter's grandfather scolds Peter for being outside in the meadow ("Suppose a wolf [___] out of the forest?"), and, when Peter defies him, saying that "Pioneers are not afraid of wolves", his grandfather takes him back into the house and locks the gate. Shortly afterwards "a big, grey wolf" does indeed come out of the woods. The cat quickly [___] into the tree, but the duck, who has excitedly [___] out of the pond, is chased, overtaken and gulped down by the wolf.

Pioneer Peter fetches a rope and [___] over the garden wall into the tree. He asks the bird to [___] around the wolf's head to distract him, while he lowers a noose and catches the wolf by his tail. The wolf struggles to get free, but Peter ties the rope to the tree and the noose only gets tighter.

Some hunters, who have been tracking the wolf, come out of the forest ready to [___], but Peter gets them to help him take the wolf to the zoo in a victory parade (The piece was first performed for an audience of pioneers during May Day celebrations) that includes himself, the bird, the hunters leading the wolf, the cat and grumpy grumbling Grandfather ("What if Peter hadn't caught the wolf? What then?") In the story's ending, the listener is told that "if you listen very carefully, you'd hear the duck [___] inside the wolf's belly, because the wolf in his hurry had swallowed her alive."

10.28.2009

"rain, rain go away" or "john hughes is sage-like"

Life moves pretty fast. You don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.
- Ferris Bueller

Have you ever had a case of the Mun-days on a Wednesday? I don't know if it was the weather or if something was in the water or if there was no good side of the bed to get out of or WHAT! And I'm not even going to go into details. Today was just pretty crappy. And not just for me! My other's been having a bad day, too. WTF!

So, I left my baby-dr appointment this afternoon (by the way, things going well, no news is good news, baby still cooking) and I parted ways with my other at the Columbus Circle station. I was waiting for the light at 8th Ave near the Time Warner Building and looked north and just stopped dead in my tracks. The view of the south west corner of Central Park was beautiful, even in the gloom of an autumn drizzle. I can't remember the last time I stopped just to look at something in the city. The I walked over to 7th Ave to catch the N back home and I looked downtown. There was a perfect view of Times Square. Even from 57th and 7th you can see the New Year's Ball glowing and changing colors from atop 1 Times Square. Two completely different views only blocks away from each other and I remembered why I love New York. I felt better. So much so, that when I descended to the platform the train home had just rolled in, and someone immediately offered me a seat. That was fast.

I guess any day has the potential to be salvaged.

10.21.2009

i think i'm uncomfortable by this

The following is an excerpt from Ina May's Guide to Childbirth. I dedicate this to Isaac.

On the afternoon before my son, Jon, was born, I was reading Ram Dass's book Be Here Now and feeling very centered and high with it. I remember I fastened on a particular word and meaning: surrender. I began having contractions and feeling big waves of energy moving. I visualized my yoni as a big, open cave beneath the surface of the ocean, with huge, surging currents sweeping in and out. As the wave of water rushed into my cave, my contraction would grown and swell and fill, reach a full peak, then ebb smoothly back out. I surrendered over and over to the great oceanic, engulfing waves. It was really delightful - very orgasmic and invigorating.

Sexy, huh? Isaac, if you decide that you want to have a baby of your own, I hope your yoni can surrender to the ebbs and flows of your labor. It'll be magical.