Well, Tilly's decided that 2 am seemed like a good time to wake up on a Saturday morning, so here I am, wide awake just pondering Tilly-kins and stuff in general (like pizza - God, I love pizza). Then I thought of something that has really been sticking in my craw (is that the right saying? Well it is now.) - the fact that people seem to think pregnant women are all bundles of joy and anything that makes them a little upset MUST be the hormones.
Oh those nasty hormones. As a girl, when we got our first visit from "Aunt Flo" (boys, I'm talking about our periods - get over it) not only did we have the new-found joy of wearing diaper-like apparatus stuck to our panties, but we had to shop for LOTS of black pants because you just never knew when a pad would slip and there you would be in math with leakage (and another thing boys - when we had / still have leakage, it's BLOOD contrary to the maxi pad commercial belief of blue liquid).
The other joyful thing was that when somebody (invariably you boys) did something insensitive / stupid / downright mean and we got mad and told you so, we didn't get the proper respect that our tirade deserved. No... we got a newly teenaged boy taunting us with "Somebody's got PMS" - looking back they probably didn't know what those 3 ominous letters stood for, but they did know it was enough for us to get even more frustrated with them and give up on any rational conversation or interaction with them.
Yep, that damn PMS keeps following us and mostly men blaming said hormones for anything they do that we don't like. (Disclaimer - don't get made at Tyler for these - I dated manys a jerk long before I met him. And I have a brother. And friends with manys a jerk as well)
- You're mad at me for going out all night, getting hammered, and puking ALL OVER your bathroom then asking you to make me breakfast while I'm hungover? Must be PMS.
- You don't like that I used your credit card to buy this samurai sword with nunchuks that I used to break your lamp? Must be PMS.
- You're jealous because I've "reconnected" with my super hot and single ex-girlfriend and we've been going for coffee / lunch weekly for the last 3 months? We're just friends! Must be PMS.
- You're strangling me because I ate the last Kit Kat? Must be... Okay, that one may be justified.
Now here's the kicker - being pregnant does have the upside of not even caring about tampons for 9 months and the PMS shadow is gone. To unfortunately be replaced with not only men, but women too, saying, "Oh, she's mad about something (no matter how justified). Must be the hormones."
I feel like saying to these people - HAVE YOU MET ME BEFORE I WAS WITH CHILD?! And 99% of them have known me a long time - you would think long enough to know better, but...
Yes, I know the pregnancy-related waterworks are hormone related. Sitting at the dinner table with my parents, laughing, with the news on in the background. Then out of nowhere, a story about a boy giving half his liver to his mom to save her life and suddenly, there I am still laughing but there are tears POURING out of my eyes. That is the hormones.
Telling people a story about my first week at my new job. I need to learn about using and updating the website. Call our provider, set up a time, and long story short, he proceeds to leave me sit in his waiting room, being almost half an hour late for the meeting at HIS office made to fit HIS schedule. When he finally shows up with a lame half-assed apology, I inform him very calmly that this is not how I do business, that being late for a meeting with me shows complete disrespect and will not be tolerated and that next time, after a 5 minute wait, I will be leaving, with all future meetings happening at MY office and finally, that I will not be paying for this training session as he's already used up a quarter of it being late. I then shake his hand and get down to business for an hour and a half, without mentioning it again.
What do I hear? Stick to your guns! Good for you for not putting up with that! Way to listen to Oprah and show people how you expect and deserve to be treated. NOPE. Gee, those hormones sure are kicking in - glad I don't have to work for you while you're pregnant. Did the world seem to think that I became Mary F*ing Poppins the second Tilly was created inside me?! I wouldn't have put up with this when I wasn't pregnant so why am I expected to now?!
Funny thing is, when people blame the hormones for something very-not hormone related, it's as if it sets said hormones off like illegal fireworks on a beach while houseboating - they go every which way and are very dangerous. I use every ounce of willpower I have (which is a lot without the usual fortifier of vodka) not to scream, scratch their eyes out, and punch them through a door like a Jason Statham movie while gargling the cry that Zena Warrior Princess used to do before she kicked ass.
Instead I smile sweetly, dig my fingernails into my palms to the point of verging on piercing the skin, and walk away with some lame excuse like needing to go to the washroom.
All I gotta say is if you actually think that whatever I'm doing IS caused by hormones, keep it to yourself or the last thing you'll hear is Zena while being taken down by nunchuks.
Saturday 23 July 2011
Thursday 21 July 2011
You can't do that
First off, sorry for my tardiness in posting a new blog. With moving and general sleepiness, all blogs I tried to write came out whiny / bitchy / completely senseless, so here I go with what I hope will be better...
I've discovered over the last month, and especially the last few weeks, that there are more and more things I can't do as a pregnant chick and while at first a few of them are kind of nice, it is starting to get a little annoying.
Sure, right from the get go, I knew that my former life as an extreme BMX rider, kickboxer, skydiver and heli-snowboarder were over, but didn't realize the little things I would grow to miss.
1. Lifting stuff
At first, kind of cool when I'm very strictly told not to lift any boxes / heavy stuff. For example, in the course of my move, Tyler loaded all my belongings up and down and up and down the stairs of our 3 story walk-up apartment. I carried my purse and snacks. Felt right. Figured it was justified - I'm carrying our baby for 9 months - at least you can carry my 2 overstuffed suitcases and various other things I've deemed can't-live-without-able (like my cookbooks, 25 purses, and my stuffed ET doll I've had since the mid-80's - don't judge)
Then, starting a new job, it's started getting sort of inconvenient. Water cooler's out of water. Search our office for a male - smile sweetly, ask him to leave his important work that I can tell he's right in the middle of, and ask him to change the jugs. You see they are genuinely nice guys, and the pregnant lady did ask, so here they come to do it for me. Ditto with changing the recycling bag, putting / taking t-shirt boxes out of my car, and reaching heavy stuff that was put on the top of my desk in 2001 by a nameless entity that I want to remove from the premises. At least I can still lift the file folders.
2. Lying / Sleeping on my back
Never knew this one before. Apparently, when you lie completely flat on your back, it makes baby squish some kind of blood vessel and she doesn't get as much blood = bad. I may already be a bad mommy, because I try really diligently to go to bed on my side (pillow between my legs, the beloved body pillow from my friend Cara wedged behind me like I'm in a trench in WWII). Yet somehow, invariably, I wake up in the middle of the night (see point #3) with the leg pillow across the room and I have somehow managed to roll over the body pillow in steamboat fashion to be lying on my back. (Remember steamboat? Sleepovers with your friends and just when everyone's asleep, someone screams "STEAMBOAT" at the top of their lungs and proceeds to roll across everyone on the floor? Also good to use when having to wake up your little brother on Christmas / Easter / any morning before he was bigger than you?)
Anyhoo, then when going back to sleep, reconstruct "The Trench" only to have it defeated again in the morning. And now, at 22 weeks, the Tilly-meister is getting back at me because somehow, when I roll on my back, I can't catch my breath - it's like she's saying, cut off my blood, I'll cut off your air. She's totally gonna be a badass and I haven't decided if I like that or not.
3. Sleeping through the night
This may be the thing I miss the most of all, those blissful nights and curling in a little ball on my tummy or back (both now forbidden), empty bladder and conking out for a magnificent 8-10 hours. Tilly doesn't like to sleep that long - I think she gets bored and decides to see how she can mess with me. Some of the wonderful pregnancy side effects seem to include back spasms (like she did a total round-house kick to my lower back followed by some elbows and maybe she even bit me), leg spasms (I suspect she's inherently learned some ancient Chinese medicine so she knows just how to move to make my foot / calve muscle / knee jerk and spasm), extreme body heat (maybe she's having a Zumba class in there? 2 fans on me and I feel like I'm in Mexico in July), and of course, the funnest of all, the need to pee - over and over. I think she just gives my bladder a little nudge when she wants to get up and unless I want to start wearing adult diapers, up I get to relieve myself.
4. Everything else
Oh how the list can go on and on. I miss people NOT touching my belly - a woman in Walmart that I've never seen and probably only know through 6 degrees of Kevin Bacon gave my belly a little pat. WTF? When did this become a lucky talisman that people rub before purchasing their weekly Lotto Max ticket?
Eating fish - my memories of delicious salmon, awesome sushi, and all other fishy dishes were awesome. My new reality is that I find them and the smell grosser than used bandaids in a bowl of feces. Sigh.
My shoes are sooooooo beautiful - so pretty that I bought little clear plastic show boxes for them to live in until I could wear them next. Nowadays, my feet are looking a tad sausage like and putting on my heels makes me feel like I'm going to fall over - at least my 8 year old niece can still come and play with them (and she walks in them perfectly).
Okay, I should probably stop there - I have a much longer list, but if I keep going, you're going to probably say "Gee, I thought Shannon was going to try to make this post less whiny." and then you'll delete me on FB.
Besides I should probably go and have breakfast - without coffee or the now-horrendous smell of breakfast sausage - and because Tilly is kicking me in the bladder again...
I've discovered over the last month, and especially the last few weeks, that there are more and more things I can't do as a pregnant chick and while at first a few of them are kind of nice, it is starting to get a little annoying.
Sure, right from the get go, I knew that my former life as an extreme BMX rider, kickboxer, skydiver and heli-snowboarder were over, but didn't realize the little things I would grow to miss.
1. Lifting stuff
At first, kind of cool when I'm very strictly told not to lift any boxes / heavy stuff. For example, in the course of my move, Tyler loaded all my belongings up and down and up and down the stairs of our 3 story walk-up apartment. I carried my purse and snacks. Felt right. Figured it was justified - I'm carrying our baby for 9 months - at least you can carry my 2 overstuffed suitcases and various other things I've deemed can't-live-without-able (like my cookbooks, 25 purses, and my stuffed ET doll I've had since the mid-80's - don't judge)
Then, starting a new job, it's started getting sort of inconvenient. Water cooler's out of water. Search our office for a male - smile sweetly, ask him to leave his important work that I can tell he's right in the middle of, and ask him to change the jugs. You see they are genuinely nice guys, and the pregnant lady did ask, so here they come to do it for me. Ditto with changing the recycling bag, putting / taking t-shirt boxes out of my car, and reaching heavy stuff that was put on the top of my desk in 2001 by a nameless entity that I want to remove from the premises. At least I can still lift the file folders.
2. Lying / Sleeping on my back
Never knew this one before. Apparently, when you lie completely flat on your back, it makes baby squish some kind of blood vessel and she doesn't get as much blood = bad. I may already be a bad mommy, because I try really diligently to go to bed on my side (pillow between my legs, the beloved body pillow from my friend Cara wedged behind me like I'm in a trench in WWII). Yet somehow, invariably, I wake up in the middle of the night (see point #3) with the leg pillow across the room and I have somehow managed to roll over the body pillow in steamboat fashion to be lying on my back. (Remember steamboat? Sleepovers with your friends and just when everyone's asleep, someone screams "STEAMBOAT" at the top of their lungs and proceeds to roll across everyone on the floor? Also good to use when having to wake up your little brother on Christmas / Easter / any morning before he was bigger than you?)
Anyhoo, then when going back to sleep, reconstruct "The Trench" only to have it defeated again in the morning. And now, at 22 weeks, the Tilly-meister is getting back at me because somehow, when I roll on my back, I can't catch my breath - it's like she's saying, cut off my blood, I'll cut off your air. She's totally gonna be a badass and I haven't decided if I like that or not.
3. Sleeping through the night
This may be the thing I miss the most of all, those blissful nights and curling in a little ball on my tummy or back (both now forbidden), empty bladder and conking out for a magnificent 8-10 hours. Tilly doesn't like to sleep that long - I think she gets bored and decides to see how she can mess with me. Some of the wonderful pregnancy side effects seem to include back spasms (like she did a total round-house kick to my lower back followed by some elbows and maybe she even bit me), leg spasms (I suspect she's inherently learned some ancient Chinese medicine so she knows just how to move to make my foot / calve muscle / knee jerk and spasm), extreme body heat (maybe she's having a Zumba class in there? 2 fans on me and I feel like I'm in Mexico in July), and of course, the funnest of all, the need to pee - over and over. I think she just gives my bladder a little nudge when she wants to get up and unless I want to start wearing adult diapers, up I get to relieve myself.
4. Everything else
Oh how the list can go on and on. I miss people NOT touching my belly - a woman in Walmart that I've never seen and probably only know through 6 degrees of Kevin Bacon gave my belly a little pat. WTF? When did this become a lucky talisman that people rub before purchasing their weekly Lotto Max ticket?
Eating fish - my memories of delicious salmon, awesome sushi, and all other fishy dishes were awesome. My new reality is that I find them and the smell grosser than used bandaids in a bowl of feces. Sigh.
My shoes are sooooooo beautiful - so pretty that I bought little clear plastic show boxes for them to live in until I could wear them next. Nowadays, my feet are looking a tad sausage like and putting on my heels makes me feel like I'm going to fall over - at least my 8 year old niece can still come and play with them (and she walks in them perfectly).
Okay, I should probably stop there - I have a much longer list, but if I keep going, you're going to probably say "Gee, I thought Shannon was going to try to make this post less whiny." and then you'll delete me on FB.
Besides I should probably go and have breakfast - without coffee or the now-horrendous smell of breakfast sausage - and because Tilly is kicking me in the bladder again...
Saturday 9 July 2011
Big Girls Don't Cry - unless they're pregnant.
Seriously, I've figured out why I now need to increase my water intake to that of a fish - I need to supplement for all the tears I seem to shed. I know this must be incredibly frustrating for those around me. Case in point, a day in my boyfriend's store:
Me: They didn't slice brownies last night
Ty: Oh well, guess they were just lazy.
Me: Well, there's lots of people who really like them and now they're not gonna get any today (tears begin)
Ty: Are you starting to cry?
Me: Yes - I just think it's really important that things get done when they're supposed to.
Ty: Uh, this really isn't worth crying over.
Me: You think I don't know that?!? Just... leave me alone (and then I proceed to go hide beside the slushie machine and sob for a moment and then back to normal)
Unfortunately, this is not an isolated incident. It started out just heightened emotions - you know, tearing up / crying during the last of the Oprah shows, Extreme Home Makeover, and other common tear jerkers. Sure, my crying was a little more intense than usual, lasted a little longer, but still, thankfully, justified.
However, in this second trimester, where the 24/7 nausea has mercifully left the compound (except for the occasional and unwelcome flashback), I am now forced to endure a minimum of twice daily crying bouts. I think the nausea used to act like a distraction, with my body and mind so focused on not puking, there was no time for superfluous waterworks. Now though...
- watching the Food Network (yes, seriously)... Chef at Home made such a nice dinner for his wife and look at how good his little boy is about trying at least a bit of everything. It's so beautiful... WAAAAAAAAAAH
- Putting on my makeup... my eyeliner tip just broke and I can't find the sharpener, and I'm almost out of my favourite eyeshadow... WAAAAAAAAAAAH
- Listening to my iPod (you'd think it'd be justified but wait)... Oh the Counting Crows Mr Jones... I loved this song and it was the my favourite the summer I moved to Calgary... WAAAAAAAAAAH
- Shopping for maternity clothes... I really liked these pregnancy jeans, but they're the only ones not on sale and the other pair makes my butt look fat... WAAAAAAAAAH
- In the food court... I want sushi but I can't have it - don't Japanese women get pregnant?!? Why can they have sushi and I can't?! WAAAAAAAAAAH
- Reading a book (again, not as justified as you would think)... The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo had such a bad mommy and she's gotten so screwed... poor dragon tattoo girl... WAAAAAAAAAH
- Driving around town... I just let that guy in and it's super busy traffic and I didn't even get a thank you wave from that asshole... WAAAAAAAAAAH
Of course, this last week, I'm in the process of getting ready to move to Regina for work and leave my baby daddy in Calgary, who by the way, gives Tilly kissies and talks to her every day, so I've learned to set my alarm a half an hour early just to give myself enough time for the inevitable blubbering to subside.
Yes, I used to have my extra sensitive moments, usually around my time of the month, but my favourite coping mechanism (vodka / margaritas / sangria / bailey's) has been ripped from my grasp. My second favourite was ice cream, chocolate, etc, but it seems as though Tilly's not a big fan of these - one spoonful / square and that's that... What am I gonna do with this child?!
I figure in the meantime, I need to team up with a scientist that can help me develop a few things, like kleenex that doubles as blotting papers, a mascara that will withstand the constant tears, because quite frankly, conventional waterproof is really letting me down, and some sort of candy like those nausea Preggie Pops that when unwarranted and ridiculous tears start to come on, I can just pop in my mouth and it will all subside.
On the upside, at least my tear ducts are being cleansed regularly.
Please God, make this kid start to love Kit Kats or I'm screwed.
Me: They didn't slice brownies last night
Ty: Oh well, guess they were just lazy.
Me: Well, there's lots of people who really like them and now they're not gonna get any today (tears begin)
Ty: Are you starting to cry?
Me: Yes - I just think it's really important that things get done when they're supposed to.
Ty: Uh, this really isn't worth crying over.
Me: You think I don't know that?!? Just... leave me alone (and then I proceed to go hide beside the slushie machine and sob for a moment and then back to normal)
Unfortunately, this is not an isolated incident. It started out just heightened emotions - you know, tearing up / crying during the last of the Oprah shows, Extreme Home Makeover, and other common tear jerkers. Sure, my crying was a little more intense than usual, lasted a little longer, but still, thankfully, justified.
However, in this second trimester, where the 24/7 nausea has mercifully left the compound (except for the occasional and unwelcome flashback), I am now forced to endure a minimum of twice daily crying bouts. I think the nausea used to act like a distraction, with my body and mind so focused on not puking, there was no time for superfluous waterworks. Now though...
- watching the Food Network (yes, seriously)... Chef at Home made such a nice dinner for his wife and look at how good his little boy is about trying at least a bit of everything. It's so beautiful... WAAAAAAAAAAH
- Putting on my makeup... my eyeliner tip just broke and I can't find the sharpener, and I'm almost out of my favourite eyeshadow... WAAAAAAAAAAAH
- Listening to my iPod (you'd think it'd be justified but wait)... Oh the Counting Crows Mr Jones... I loved this song and it was the my favourite the summer I moved to Calgary... WAAAAAAAAAAH
- Shopping for maternity clothes... I really liked these pregnancy jeans, but they're the only ones not on sale and the other pair makes my butt look fat... WAAAAAAAAAH
- In the food court... I want sushi but I can't have it - don't Japanese women get pregnant?!? Why can they have sushi and I can't?! WAAAAAAAAAAH
- Reading a book (again, not as justified as you would think)... The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo had such a bad mommy and she's gotten so screwed... poor dragon tattoo girl... WAAAAAAAAAH
- Driving around town... I just let that guy in and it's super busy traffic and I didn't even get a thank you wave from that asshole... WAAAAAAAAAAH
Of course, this last week, I'm in the process of getting ready to move to Regina for work and leave my baby daddy in Calgary, who by the way, gives Tilly kissies and talks to her every day, so I've learned to set my alarm a half an hour early just to give myself enough time for the inevitable blubbering to subside.
Yes, I used to have my extra sensitive moments, usually around my time of the month, but my favourite coping mechanism (vodka / margaritas / sangria / bailey's) has been ripped from my grasp. My second favourite was ice cream, chocolate, etc, but it seems as though Tilly's not a big fan of these - one spoonful / square and that's that... What am I gonna do with this child?!
I figure in the meantime, I need to team up with a scientist that can help me develop a few things, like kleenex that doubles as blotting papers, a mascara that will withstand the constant tears, because quite frankly, conventional waterproof is really letting me down, and some sort of candy like those nausea Preggie Pops that when unwarranted and ridiculous tears start to come on, I can just pop in my mouth and it will all subside.
On the upside, at least my tear ducts are being cleansed regularly.
Please God, make this kid start to love Kit Kats or I'm screwed.
Saturday 2 July 2011
Dear Ottilia #1...
Dear Ottilia;
Hi my little girl! This is your mommy. You're still just a little astronaut in my tummy, but I thought I should write you a letter to let you know about what's happening and some of the things I am hoping will and won't happen once you decide to make your debut.
Mommy loves you, but I have started to keep a record for every bit of nausea, headaches, emergency trips to the doctor, weird bumps / rashes, aversions to my favourite foods, and generally crappiness I have been feeling. When you start to hit puberty and are driving me up the wall, I will be bringing out said journal in front of your friends and start listing them off. You've been warned.
While I know you'll be adorable, I want you to use your head. You will read books and think for yourself. Self esteem is good, but I don't want you to play dumb for a boy. If you do, I will ship you off to a school run by nuns and it won't be just like the Sound of Music. Although it may be in Austria. I haven't decided yet.
If I hear you've been hanging out with Charlie Sheen wannabes, there will be an intervention and it will not be pretty - I will be contacting those witches from Sleeping Beauty and putting you into a slumber until me and your daddy can "take care" of the scumbags. Scumbags - fair warning... mess with the momma bear and you will be mauled. And hidden in a forest.
I want you to realize that from the day Mommy peed on her magic Clear Blue stick and found out that you'd been hitching a ride in there, me and your Daddy were instantly in love with you with all our hearts and we would do anything for you. Along with that comes some stuff we know we will do that will annoy / embarrass you. I apologize in advance for the following:
- giving you big wet kisses and hugs, while telling you how much I love you in a version of baby talk, all in front of your friends and a boy you like
- taking you to the mall to get your first training bra and talking to the salesperson about you growing little boobies and pushing them into position, probably while there's at least another girl from your class in the same dressing room
- having the birds and the bees talk with you - just know, it won't be terribly easy for me either, and I would rather be watching whatever substitute for Grey's Anatomy will be on television, but we'll get through it together.
- showing you how to use a tampon, pluck your eyebrows, and shave your legs... There will be a little blood, and little pain, but it will be worth it. Hopefully.
- your Daddy standing at the door and being threatening (perhaps with a gun) when a boy comes to pick you up for your first date. That's just something Daddy's do - you're his little girl now and forever and if anyone messes with you, he'll be annihilated (and that's not figurative. I'm serious.)
Well Tilly, that's all your mommy can think of for now. If you're reading this, I'm probably sleeping and you've snuck onto my computer and found the link. That's what I get for having a baby genius on my hands.
Love,
Mommy.
Hi my little girl! This is your mommy. You're still just a little astronaut in my tummy, but I thought I should write you a letter to let you know about what's happening and some of the things I am hoping will and won't happen once you decide to make your debut.
Mommy loves you, but I have started to keep a record for every bit of nausea, headaches, emergency trips to the doctor, weird bumps / rashes, aversions to my favourite foods, and generally crappiness I have been feeling. When you start to hit puberty and are driving me up the wall, I will be bringing out said journal in front of your friends and start listing them off. You've been warned.
While I know you'll be adorable, I want you to use your head. You will read books and think for yourself. Self esteem is good, but I don't want you to play dumb for a boy. If you do, I will ship you off to a school run by nuns and it won't be just like the Sound of Music. Although it may be in Austria. I haven't decided yet.
If I hear you've been hanging out with Charlie Sheen wannabes, there will be an intervention and it will not be pretty - I will be contacting those witches from Sleeping Beauty and putting you into a slumber until me and your daddy can "take care" of the scumbags. Scumbags - fair warning... mess with the momma bear and you will be mauled. And hidden in a forest.
I want you to realize that from the day Mommy peed on her magic Clear Blue stick and found out that you'd been hitching a ride in there, me and your Daddy were instantly in love with you with all our hearts and we would do anything for you. Along with that comes some stuff we know we will do that will annoy / embarrass you. I apologize in advance for the following:
- giving you big wet kisses and hugs, while telling you how much I love you in a version of baby talk, all in front of your friends and a boy you like
- taking you to the mall to get your first training bra and talking to the salesperson about you growing little boobies and pushing them into position, probably while there's at least another girl from your class in the same dressing room
- having the birds and the bees talk with you - just know, it won't be terribly easy for me either, and I would rather be watching whatever substitute for Grey's Anatomy will be on television, but we'll get through it together.
- showing you how to use a tampon, pluck your eyebrows, and shave your legs... There will be a little blood, and little pain, but it will be worth it. Hopefully.
- your Daddy standing at the door and being threatening (perhaps with a gun) when a boy comes to pick you up for your first date. That's just something Daddy's do - you're his little girl now and forever and if anyone messes with you, he'll be annihilated (and that's not figurative. I'm serious.)
Well Tilly, that's all your mommy can think of for now. If you're reading this, I'm probably sleeping and you've snuck onto my computer and found the link. That's what I get for having a baby genius on my hands.
Love,
Mommy.
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