10.30.2007

So This Is How The Other Half Lives

Ok, so, I know I haven't posted in a few days, and I think that pretty soon my absence will be met with a hmmm... baby?
Well, I just want you all to know that no, there is no baby yet.

There is also no computer at my house yet.

I am blogging from the library.

Happy as I am for the free computer and internet access right around the corner from my house, I'm not really into blogging at the library.

For one thing, there's the old men hovering around me waiting for my 15 minutes to end so that they can play wordwhomp and check the weather. For another, there's that 15 minute thing.

There's not much I can't get done in 15 minutes, but blogging isn't one of them.

So, in the interest of the 11:43 I have left, I will keep this short and sweet, and hopefully have time to visit at least a few of you before the old men start complaining. So if I'm a bad bloggy friend for the next week or so until we get our new shiny happy Imac, I'm very sorry.

And I'm still pregnant.

***

10.25.2007

Peanut Butter Cup AND Glossettes. Yummy.

Now that I am no longer distracted by the chocolate in my purse (heh heh), on to a few question rattling around in the jellybowl that passes for my brain these days:

  • Do you think I'd have an easier time writing about the traditional music of China if I was actually listening to the traditional music of China and not You Tube videos of the Grateful Dead performing Cassidy in 1992? (But I was at that show!)
  • Would now be a good time to clean out my desk at work, considering tomorrow is my last day?
  • Does anybody know the magic words to say to a daughter in-utero who, exactly like her big sister did, decided that 37 weeks and 2 days gestation is the perfect time to go all transverse on me?
  • How much longer can I answer the question, 'Can we put the furnace on?' with 'You can put a sweater on.'
  • Is it ok to just let your kid fall asleep on the couch next to you with the hockey game on because sitting in a rocking chair next to her bed for an hour while she sings to you is adorable but sometimes just not worth the heartburn? (Literally)
  • How much more banal will my posts get once I actually HAVE the baby?

stay tuned...

***

10.24.2007

Oh My God, I'd Be So Much Less of a Bitch If I Just Ate the F*ing Chocolate

I just think that you all should know that there is a box of 95 Halloween chocolate bars sitting on top of my fridge - UNOPENED. And it has been there since SATURDAY.


I am practicing restraint. It's very Zen.


(I'll write something for real when I am less distracted by the big box of Halloween chocolate bars sitting on top of my fridge, taunting me.)


***

10.23.2007

21 days and counting

1. Sort out baby clothes
2. Wash baby clothes
3. Put baby clothes in dresser
4. Move dresser upstairs
5. Assemble co-sleeper
6. Put together remainder of homebirth kit
7. Put together just-in-case hospital bag
8. Wrap Bee’s ‘From Your Baby Sister’ present
9. Wash my hair
10. Drop off Bee’s nursery school enrollment forms
11. Get after-birth necessities (arnica, food, slingshot for pelting guests that stay too long)
12. Spend 10 minutes alone with my husband
13. Have sex with my husband
14. Decide on a name for child in the remaining 5 minutes
15. Sell old strollers on craigslist to make room for snazzy new stroller
16. Wax the beav
17. Clean baby carseat
18. Plant memorial rosebush that has been sitting in pot in garden since my dad died
19. Get Halloween pumpkin
20. Turn pumpkin into jackolantern
21. Toast pumpkin seeds for healthy, zinc-filled snack
22. Make labour-ade; freeze half
23. Freeze grapes (I ate a lot of frozen grapes while in labour with Bee)
24. Wash my hair
25. Give birth

bonus - got to have coffee with a friend

***

10.19.2007

25 Lines About 25 Days*

I feel like I am Grover, and there is a monster at the end of this book. I look at the lilypie ticker at the bottom of my site and, flailing arms, yell, ‘WHAT DOES THAT SAY?! DOES THAT SAY THAT THERE IS A BABY DUE IN 25 DAYS?!’

Now, really, I look more like Gonzo and I act more like Oscar, but humour me. And I won’t beg anybody not to turn the page, as I really am excitedly anticipating what’s coming at the end, but y’know, it would be ok if things just slowed down a bit. I’d be ok if we weren’t turning the pages quite so quickly. And it’s not because I’m scared – I’m totally not. Bee was born after 4 hours of (the hard part of) labour, and I expect this child to be even more efficient. My midwife is already joking that she’s just moving in November 1 so that she won’t miss it. So no, not scared.

The thing is, I have a lot of shit to do before Soon-to-Bee arrives. A lot. And I don’t get much done on any given day. In fact, just getting through the regularly scheduled, minimum-effort required day is a huge accomplishment. And so far, no freaking nesting instinct, which would help greatly.

By this point in my pregnancy with Bee, I was staying up until 4am to magic erase my entire kitchen floor. This time, not so much. Although I have been baking a lot of muffins.

Anyway, the point is, I need to get organized. 25 days, people; 25 days.

I have decided to create a to-do list, prioritizing only the most important tasks**. Many other tasks, like cleaning the bathroom, have been left off the list because I just don’t care to do them. Someone else can. Or not. Don’t care. So here’s my list; if I can do one task each day, awesome. If not, well, baby’s coming no matter what. Eventually we will get to the end of the book.

Kgirl’s pre-baby 25 things to-do in 25 days list:

1. Sort out baby clothes
2. Wash baby clothes
3. Put baby clothes in dresser
4. Move dresser upstairs
5. Assemble co-sleeper
6. Put together remainder of homebirth kit
7. Put together just-in-case hospital bag
8. Wrap Bee’s ‘From Your Baby Sister’ present
9. Wash my hair
10. Drop off Bee’s nursery school enrollment forms
11. Get after-birth necessities (arnica, food, slingshot for pelting guests that stay too long)
12. Spend 10 minutes alone with my husband
13. Have sex with my husband
14. Decide on a name for child in the remaining 5 minutes
15. Sell old strollers on craigslist to make room for snazzy new stroller
16. Wax the beav
17. Clean baby carseat
18. Plant memorial rosebush that has been sitting in pot in garden since my dad died
19. Get Halloween pumpkin
20. Turn pumpkin into jackolantern
21. Toast pumpkin seeds for healthy, zinc-filled snack
22. Make labour-ade; freeze half
23. Freeze grapes (I ate a lot of frozen grapes while in labour with Bee)
24. Wash my hair
25. Give birth

...And you were so scared.


*Points if you guess this reference and think that it is as obvious and not really clever as I do

**Sleep would normally take up all 25 lines on this list, but I have given up on sleep. It’s not gonna happen, and I accept that. But if this post is rambly and disjointed, you know why.


***

10.16.2007

Hair Apparent

I have never been one of those ‘My hair is my crowning glory” kind of women. I have chopped it, grown it, shaved it, dyed it, loved it, hated it and everything in between. I allow the state of my head to be ruled purely by whim, and the results have varied.

There have been unfortunate incidences borne of trust, desperation and/or drunken folly; there have been incidences that have netted magnificent results, borne of many of the same things.

I have cried after insisting that Chris cut my hair NOW NOW NOW NOW, because I couldn’t take my growing-out bangs hanging in my eyes any longer. I have taken a day off work more than once after a botched home-highlighting debacle. (The box promised glowing, natural tendrils. I ended up looking as though an octopus suctioned itself to my noggin.) I have bullied many a sister and friend into chopping me up, insisting that it would be easy to coax a short, shaggy, cute coif out of their inexperienced, unqualified, shaking hands. Once I ended up with a short, shaggy, cute coif (thank you, Karla), and once I ended up looking like a raging, unstyled lunatic and had no recourse but to shave it all off. (Thanks a whole fucking lot, Brenda)

Once in a while I go to an acutal, licensed stylist, and once in a while I get what I actually wanted.




Does this haircut make my friend Emilie's boobs look big?


***

10.11.2007

A Mighty, Mighty Good Man

1. Who is your man?

Chris is my man.

2. How long have you been together?

8 years, 5 in wedded bliss

3. How long did you date?

Duh, 3

4. How old is your man?

31 – I’m 10 months older and he’s the first ‘younger’ man I’ve ever dated.

5. Who eats more?

Depends on how pregnant I am.

6. Who said "I love you" first?

It was mutual, and it was on television. Sex TV. I shit you not. It’s a good story.

7. Who is taller?

He’s about a foot taller. I married him so that my kids have a fightin’ chance at a good nose and some height.

8. Who sings better?

Chris, hands down. He has a really nice voice. I make him sing Christmas carols or talk to me in a soft voice about the stars when I can't fall asleep. Works every time.

9. Who is smarter?

In the Trivial Pursuit game of life, he takes Geography, Science and History; I get Entertainment, Sports & Leisure and Art & Literature. We’re a good team.

10. Whose temper is worse?

That would be me. By a loooooong shot. Wanna make something of it?

11. Who does the laundry?

He shleps and washes; I line-dry and fold. Tragically, we rarely manage to put our laundry in actual drawers. cough*lazy*cough.

12. Who takes out the garbage?

Chris is in charge of all garbage and all poop-related incidents. And bugs.

13. Who sleeps on the right side of the bed?

He does.

14. Who pays the bills?

Generally Chris does. I am an avoider.

15. Who is better with the computer?

He is really good with all things technical, though even he could not save our stupid powerbook from sudden demise.

16. Who mows the lawn?

We share. Our lawn is small and we have a cute turquoise push-mower that I like to get behind.

17. Who cooks dinner?

Me. Unless we bbq or want kick-ass grilled cheese sandwiches, because he makes ‘em good.

18. Who drives when you are together?

He mostly does. Apparently, I make him. This goes back to a very unfeminist, archaic rant I went on circa 7 years ago about ‘his jobs’ and ‘my jobs.’ I’d like to take it all back, but he won’t let me forget about it.

19. Who pays when you go out?

Whoever has money in their wallet. It’s all the same to us.

20. Who is most stubborn?

Fine. Me.

21. Who is the first to admit when they are wrong?

I like Sin’s answer best, but the truth is, he is. I have a tough time apologizing, though I’m getting better.

22. Whose parents do you see the most?

My mom.

23. Who kissed who first?

I tried to kiss him loads of times. Well, I tried to sleep with him, but he kept insisting that he had to go to his own home, and held out for a while until our first unofficial date. And then, well, yes, it was probably still me that attacked him.

24. Who asked who out?

Didn’t really happen that way. We went out as a group thing a bunch of times, and once, well, the group just didn’t show up.

25. Who proposed?

Didn’t really happen that way. He’ll tell you that he was threatened with a steak knife, but what happened was that it was our first anniversary, and we were in huge suite at the Royal York, sipping mimosas and eating free breakfast room service before I went to the spa (we had friends in good places), and well, we couldn’t not get engaged.

26. Who is more sensitive?

Toss up. He is more sensitive in the ways that nice people are more sensitive; I am more sensitive in the way that pregnant women are sensitive.

27. Who has more friends?

Probably me.

28. Who has more siblings?

Equal. I have two sisters and a brother, he has two brothers and a sister.

29. Who wears the pants in the family?

When I can find a pair that fit, I do.




and he makes cute babies to boot



***

10.09.2007

The Tease

You are breathing heavily as his hands traverse your body: an unknown landscape eager to be explored. His lips graze your neck, your collarbone. Your back arches to meet his lowering chest and your hands reach to his hips to pull him even closer –


I know you want more.

Get it here.


***

10.04.2007

mmmm

Adam Brody $ex dreams.

That's all.


(Apparently I'm a cougar when I'm pregnant.)


***

10.01.2007

Workin' 5-9

The new normal at casa k-girl consists of me high-fiving my husband as I walk in the door that he is walking out of at about 4:30 pm. We may or may not see each other again that night, depending on my energy level, and/or how early he finishes all of his tasks skips out on work.

This means that I am responsible for the evening shift with Bee every night. Every night. 8 months pregnant. Every night. Did I mention that I am 8 months pregnant?

Despite the fact that I am doing this every night, and I am 8 months pregnant, things are going ok. Here’s how our evenings now go:

4:30 – 5:00 Bee time. My friend (who is a veteran of evening shifts while pregnant, with a toddler. Poor girl.) made it explicitly clear that there is no peace if there is no one-on-one time when I first arrive home. It’s good advice, though tough to navigate into something I have energy for. Bee wants to watch TV. I think her father gets away with not turning it on all day by telling her that she’ll have to wait until I get home. And then I get home and am greeted not with hugs and kisses, but with, “I watch a show?” Uh, no. Not because I care so so much about the TV being on, but because it becomes so so hard to turn it off. So now we must do something active. Bee always wants to go across the street to the park. I want to have tea parties lying down. We compromise with a Wiggles dance party (gently turning down her pleas to ‘Hop wif me!), sidewalk chalk abstract art extravaganza, bubbles on the back deck or a walk up the street to the library renovation site to marvel at the diggers.

5:00 – 5:45 Attempt to create a healthy dinner. Sometimes this is linguine with homemade leek pesto, grilled chicken and veggies plus a spinach salad. Sometimes this is a frozen pizza. Usually I am somewhere in between: perogies plus leftover roasted chicken and cut up broccoli, tomatoes and cucumbers. Try to make enough for leftovers the next day because the nutritional value of Chris’ lunches is suspect. He likes to put jam on everything.

5:45- 6:30 Dinner. Mmmm. Yummy in Bee’s tummy. She is nothing if not a good eater. I often try to stretch this out as long as possible, because it is something we do sitting down.

6:30 – 7:30 More playtime, structured around my energy level. Sometimes I get a good burst of energy and we do indeed head to the park. Most often we play in the backyard for a while, where filling up the bird feeder and then chasing squirrels away from it lasts until the sun goes down. Sometimes Bee gets a special treat and is allowed to watch Backyardigans and Diego. Bee goes apeshit when we are allowed to do this, yelping about getting a special treat. Bless her little heart. I’m glad she thinks it’s all about her, because little does she know that this is actually my special treat. See? That’s me, dozing on the couch for an hour.

7:30 – 8:00 Filth removal and pajamas. I have mentioned before that Bee is an aquaphobe. She hates being washed. ‘Bath time’ is Bee standing OUTSIDE the bathtub, while I fill a bowl of warm water and soap her up while trying to distract her from the fact that she is indeed being forced to partake in de-griming. She screams, cries and tries to hide behind the toilet, which is only slightly cleaner than my child most of the time. But the big finish – washing her hair – is the real treat. I soap up her smelly little head like I have the rest of her tiny body, and then turn on the showerhead. Then, I pick up my slippery little eel while she thrashes around, and must – without dropping her – get her under the shower to rinse all the soap off. And water can’t get in her eyes or her ears or she screams and cries so much that I am sure my neighbours debate calling the authorities on me. I only go through this torture once a week. Mommy can’t drink right now, so the other nights we are both satisfied with a sponge bath in the kitchen sink.

8:00 Bedtime. I suck at bedtime. Suck, suck, suck at it. I do everything I am supposed to, and it never goes well. Well, it never goes quickly. It can be pleasant, but it never takes less than an hour, and often creeps its way up to two. I’m serious. Bee miraculously sleeps in her own room now. I had nothing to do with this, it was all Chris. This has not helped me at bedtime. I read her 4 stories while she lays in bed, then I turn the lights off and we sing and chat while she strokes my arm, which is very uncomfortable for me, as I am sitting in the rocking chair next to her bed. I can’t get into her bed because there is no room for both of us in it right now. The real problem is that she won’t let me leave. Yes, I am held hostage by my two year old, who gets very upset if I leave before she is asleep. But in order for her to fall asleep, she must be holding onto my arm, which is being contorted and pulled, and the dim light is making me sleepy and I want to lie down so badly, but I totally resist bringing her into our bed just so that I can lie down too. It would be so easy, so wonderful, but I think Chris would kill me. Even flexible, attachment whore me knows that this would be a backward step. So instead I shift, and pull Bee from her just-about-asleep stage and then we start the whole shebang over again. And then finally she is asleep.

Did I mention that this experience is uniquely mine? Chris is back downstairs with Bee happily in dreamland within about ½ an hour. My sister babysat on the weekend and made her way downstairs while Bee was still awake. WTF?

9:30ish – Make my way downstairs, lay on the couch, and fall asleep.

12ish – Chris gets home, scaring the shit out me every single night, and I go to sleep.

Fun times. Only 25 more nights like this, and then I am off the hook. My mat leave will begin, Chris will go back to days, and I’ll get to watch The OC every night at 7:00. It’ll be like a freakin vacation! Until baby #2 arrives. Right. Crap. Forgot about that part.

Perhaps I should learn how to appreciate the simplistic task of juggling only one child’s needs. And how to sleep in the rocking chair.

***