Thursday, May 29, 2008

I'll show you some braxton-hixie

Yesterday at the gym, after finishing my pathetically short and unstrenuous swim workout, I stood at the end of the lane stretching and simultaneously feeling jealous of my lane neighbor who, as evidenced by her huffing and puffing, was in the middle of a nice hard training session.

As I listened and stretched, I looked forward to the day when I could push my limits in the pool - not advisable when you're 36 weeks pregnant - when my reveries were interrupted by this very woman gasping beside me:

GW: "Are you OK?"


Me: "Yeah. I just can't do the workout I used to."

GW: "You were breathing heavy."

I was breathing heavy? Me? Are you projecting?

GW: "And you looked kind of Braxton-Hixie."

What does that mean? How does one look Braxton-Hixie*? Is that perceptible to the human eye?

Me: "I'm fine. Thanks for asking."

Shut up, Butt-inski.

* Braxton-Hixie presumably refers to the condition of having Braxton-Hicks contractions. These are also referred to as "practice" contractions that happen throughout pregnancy but increase in frequency and intensity toward the end of gestation.

Tuesday, May 27, 2008

CBT is my best friend

My favorite thought stoppers in order of appearance:

1. There's no way I can really know what s/he/it is thinking.

2. I can't anticipate the outcome. Every time I've tried, I've been wrong.

3. Most people die of old age.

(#3 got me through my darkest moments in Mexico.)

Saturday, May 24, 2008

you will not spy with your little eye

... any sign of my nips.

(my mother-in-law might be reading this so I'll apologize in advance for any "mature" content that might make her uncomfortable but I feel very strongly about this and must have my word!!)

I plan to breastfeed. I even intend to breastfeed in public when necessary. But barring any confluence of unfortunate events, my nipples will remain my private property with viewings available by appointment only. At the discretion of the owner - meaning me - naturally. 

(For the record, I do not have a problem with other people doing whatever they need or want to do with their nipples. This is just a personal preference that I feel the need to justify through a blog post.)

Some of you might be thinking, "For shame, Imbecile! Why should you be embarrassed by something so natural and beautiful! You have fallen under the sway of the patriarchy which sexualizes and objectifies your body! Love your nipples, do not hide them!"

I do love my nipples, people. 

Believe me. 

The patriarchy did not sexualize them. Nature did.  

They are number two on my list of favorite erogenous zones. In fact, if the list were graphed based on a range of sensitivity from 1000 - 1, item number one would range around 1000, nipples would be, say, 750, and everything else would fall below the 300 mark. 

And I'm most definitely not ashamed of that! I simply prefer to keep it between me and my husband. 


Wait a minute.

I kinda fucked that up, didn't I? 

First, there's the whole matter of the baby. He's gonna get an long term lease, of a decidedly nonsexual nature, at the top of my nipple guest list.

And then there's you, reading this post.  To whom I have just exposed myself in the figurative sense. 


Watch yourself. 

If I catch you staring, I will smack you.

Tuesday, May 20, 2008

And the award for Best Husband Ever goes to ...

So I was complaining over IM to my husband about work. I'm feeling overwhelmed and underappreciated, having been dragged through a months-long effort only to have it all pulled out from under me at the last minute. Etc etc.

And you know what he said in response?

In complete sincerity?

"I can't wait for the moment when I can serve you whisky in the tub"

This is a man who understands me and wants to make me happy.

Monday, May 12, 2008

geography lessons

On January 4, 2003, I arrived by bus to a small town in the middle of the middle of Mexico. On January 21, a magnitude 7.6 earthquake hit Colima.

A few days later I received a large volume of e-mails chastising me for not letting everyone know that I was OK.
There were hundreds of miles and one very large mountain range between me and the earthquake. My response at the time was "Learn your geography, people. Mexico is a huge country."

But now I'm the wrong side of the same problem. My parents are in China. According to the itinerary they sent me, on Mother's Day they were in Xi'an, about 500 miles north of the earthquake. And today, they have supposedly flown to Hong Kong, which is even further away from the disaster area, with their tour group .

Hopefully soon they'll be doing some of this:

And then some of this:

Saturday, May 03, 2008

baby specifications

I've been thinking a lot about what I want for our baby ... and what I want in a baby. 

I'm sure that sounds incredibly callous to you but whatever. I mean, this little creature has been pummeling at my insides for months now and my body has dedicated a great deal of time and resources to manufacturing him. Don't I have a right to be invested in the outcome? 

I think it is only natural to imagine a child as fully realized human being who is like us - only better. Maybe he's braver or more dedicated.  A harder worker. More talented or at least more disciplined. Someone with access to all the advantages we did without.  At a bare minimum we might hope to have a kid we like to be around.

And yet most of the time when he's knocking around in there, all I can think is "Who are you? What are you going to be like?"

It wouldn't too hard to make something up, honestly. 

I mean, I do, hear, see stuff and he "reacts." For example, we went to see U2 in 3D at the IMAX. I liked it and he was going nuts throughout the show.  Did that mean he liked it too? Or was he clawing desperately at his prison walls in an attempt to escape? 

Not long after, we saw a free SXSW day show at the French Legation featuring Sons and Daughters, J.Mascis, and Thurston Moore. Another set of performances I thoroughly enjoyed, but Baby didn't have much to say. Was he enthralled and in silent awe? Did he spy through my belly button peephole how the cool kids express their enthusiasm - nary a head nod and absolutely no toe tapping - and decide to follow suit? Or did the day's spring breeze and golden light and my decidedly uncool hip-shaking chair dance lull him to sleep?

Early in the pregnancy, I made a long list of hopes and dreams for him. A recipe of sorts. But as his arrival date gets closer (7 weeks for God's sake!) I've realized that I don't want to be greedy. Right now my greatest wish is that he makes it all the way to D-as-in-"due"-day. 

Beyond that, I think,  "What's essential? What will get him through life with his fair share of joy?" 

And it isn't whether he's an artist or an accountant, friendly or shy, hardworking or lazy. It has nothing to do with how he is as a child or where he ends up as an adult. 

What's essential is what he carries with him from start to finish that will make whoever he is and whatever he does the right thing for him. 

So these are my three hopes for our little boy:

1) A sound body
2) A clear mind
3) An open heart