Holy Crap, I’m A Mom…
So after a long, complicated labor on January 16, I’m a mom. It’s a different animal, especially with my husband still gone, and for all the exhaustion, frustration and sleep deprivation, I gotta say, I think I’ll keep her.
We’ve been getting the hang of things, a lot of one step forward, two back, but I did get the dishes done the other day and I finally got the trash taken out after a car ride induced nap this afternoon. I secretly wonder if letting her nap in a room where Celebrity Rehab is on in the back ground will be detrimental in the long run, and think maybe I should read to her or something. Newborns are weird. I mean, how exactly do you interact with one? We snuggle and I talk at her. A lot of this talking includes “But mommy really needs to sleep, Bunny!” or “Oh, man, my food just finished heating up, won’t you let me eat?” But sometimes it’s chit chat full of giggles and kisses, because dammit, she’s cute.
I also noticed that when she is fussy in the car, the three songs guaranteed to soothe her are “Back in Black” and “You Shook Me All Night Long” by AC/DC and “Haven’t Met You Yet” by Michael Buble. I’m not sure if I’ve done something terribly wrong or terribly right in that respect, but hey–it works, right?
Fuschia Christmas Trees and Dead Nazis
Christmas is only a few short days away, and so I thought it might be time to decorate the tree (I know, I’m a little behind). I had bought a small, sparkly, fuchsia tree in an attempt to embrace the opportunity to have a totally girly Christmas with the husband gone until spring. So I decided to do Christmas decorating in the only sensible way one could possibly do such things, on their last adult Christmas without children. I put on my new DVD of Inglourious Basterds and set to work.
Now, I know what you’re thinking, Lt. Aldo Raine isn’t the most jolly of characters–but Christmas is about joy, right? Well what is more joyful than kicking Nazi ass? Honestly? You can be the biggest pacificist in the world, and watching good looking guys decimate Nazis will bring a smile to your face. And it brought joy into my home, too. I got all the sparkling silver ornaments on the teeny pink tree (with limited cat interference) and had enough Christmas spirit left over to break into the awesome homemade peppermint brownies a friend gave me, and think about some hot chocolate, while watching WWII end the way it should have.
So, all that’s left is to take my eight months pregnant butt to the grocery store and get supplies for Christmas dinner, and keep the house together until my parents get here.
P.S. Thank you, spell check, for pointing out that both “Inglourious” and “Basterds” is spelled incorrectly!
Ready or Not….
So now we ride the rollercoaster into “The Holidays”. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t looking forward to Thanksgiving, but I am also apprehensive about the drama I am almost positive will erupt between my mom and her brothers.
To add to it all, the baby shower is the next day and there is already a push & pull there. The invitations seem to have gotten at least temporarily lost in the mail, and I am nervous about the whole ordeal. I won’t lie. Baby showers don’t seem very “me” but at the same time, I don’t want to not have one. So I suppose I’ll help with the planning and look forward to silly games, and hope that the baby makes out with some good stuff.
Then onto Christmas, which normally, if my husband were deployed and I was 8 months pregnant, I would say “fuck no!” to hosting Christmas. But since I have been told that I am not supposed to travel after 30 weeks (which I already am), I don’t want to push it that close to the due date. So I will be decorating, cooking and “celebrating” Christmas right here! I am not particularly sure I am looking forward to it, but since it will only be my parents and possibly my brother, they better not expect too much.
It’s been awhile!
It’s been just a ridiculously busy time around our house, good news is things are slowing down–of course I only have a few more months to be ready for this little girly to show up! Very excited.
Today, I went shopping for some Halloween decorations and I cannot wait to put all my stuff up. The problem? My costume! How can I totally experience an awesome Halloween without a costume? I can’t decide what to do since this baby bump is pronouncing itself quite nicely now.
The options (as I see it) is to be The Bride from Kill Bill (post bullet wound), a pregnant nun, a pregnant cheerleader, or getting a cat ears & tail kit and putting a big black maternity swim suit on–just to be ridiculous!
I’m thinking pregnant cheerleader, but I’ll have to find peices that I can wear. Anybody know where to look?
Update: I decided to buy a ears & tail kit and be a pregnant Playboy Bunny. I find this idea incredibly amusing!
Who Wears This Crap?
So I have officially given up on finding maternity clothes that I actually like. I mean, yes, there are a couple things I’ve found that are comfortable and sort of cute, but I already own those.
I was in Motherhood Maternity, and out of everything in that store, i found one shirt I could see myself wearing. They wanted over 25 dollars for this TEE SHIRT and at closer inspection, it looked like it would fall apart in about 3-4 washes. I must have tried on five different dresses before I finally decided that I am done.
I don’t know why the people who design maternity clothes assume that all pregnant women have the desire to look 35% frumpy and 65% quiet, demure housewife, but I don’t. I just want a tee shirt or two that look halfway decent. So we move on. I guess I’m buying a lot of men’s tee shirts in large and hoping for the best.
“You’re going to be a really cool mom”
When I found out I was pregnant I think my first response was worrying over whether my husband would be happy or totally freaked out. Once we decided that we were a little of both, things were easier, until I announced to a relative of mine that I was having a baby and his response was “You’re going to be a really cool mom”.
Sounds like a compliment, right? Just like the hairdresser who complimented my sense of style, “Oh, you’re going to be one of those hip, cool moms, aren’t you?”. Um. Am I? I never really thought about it. Yeah, so I read Alternadad by Neil Pollack and laughed over Punk Rock Dad by Jim Lindberg of Pennywise, and I guess I just assumed that if I could grow up moshing in the punk underground of the Central Valley and embrace my love of sci-fi then my kids would probably like me…and turn out cool.
Man, I want my kids to be fucking cool! Of course I realilze this begins with me, myself remaining cool while still being a parent, and I further realize that this goes further than playing Operation Ivy tunes to my baby in utero, so stay tuned because this is going to be a wild ride.
