When I found out I was pregnant, it explained a few things - weird(er) back pains and the nausea I'd been feeling. No big surprise, kinda par for the course... You see when women who get kinda blindsided by pregnancy find out, there are general pregnancy symptoms we know about: no period (take that Playtex!), the incessant nausea (hello premium plus) and that you will suffer all sorts of aches and pains thanks to your stomach growing to watermelon-esque proportions. I'm from Saskatchewan - they make helmets out of watermelons. I know one when I see it.
But my hair... my beloved hair. No matter the size of my ass, a giant Mount Vesuvius zit on my face, I love my hair. Sure, I didn't always love it - thank you 1986. I thought I would look cool if I got my hair cut short. I mean REALLY short. I hated it but not as much as my curls did. They rebelled. While the short hair was growing out, the curls showed me who the boss was (no it did not involve Tony Danza) and my hair stuck up everywhere - especially at the bottom. Remember the cute little "Donna from 90210" hair cut everyone got where it was short but curled up cute on the bottom?! My hair did that - about 4 years before it was "cool." Oh the humanity. I had to actually get a PERM to tame the curls because no amount of Aussie Helmet Head Hairspray (or whatever it was called) could keep the curls in check. Fast forward to high school - I learned the perfect combination of products and the length the curls liked. We began our love affair.
I have heard countless times someone say to me "You probably wish you had straight hair. Everyone with straight hair wishes they had curls and curls wishes they were straight." I replied with not a chance. I love the naturally big hair. Me and the hair share the same personality, no matter what the trends - we're kinda in your face and a little crazy, but cute.
It's a big mass of curls without being too curly - Walking past a hair salon once, I was even pulled in because a woman wanted a perm "just like this" and the stylist promised she could do it. I got a free cut for keeping my mouth shut. Observe the power of the curls. Unfortunately, the curls giveth and the curls taketh away.
You see, in that nasty first trimester (or what I shall call the puke-mester), I felt gross. I felt bloated and ugly and needed a little pick me up - what else to do but to go get my hair done!! Made a call to my fabulous hair dresser, headed over and told her she could cut a little extra off, but I still needed to put my hair in a ponytail - other women (and some men) know what I speak of... There is short and then there's too short to be pulled back when you are feeling lazy / vomiting. I came out of the appointment with a lot less hair and got home to the horrible realization that I was now the latter - no matter what I tried, the hair would not all fit into one simple pony... Well, the nausea, hormones, and lack of sleep kicked in and I cried and cried and cried. I'm not saying it was rational in any way, shape, or form. Just putting it out there - I was a bawling mess of tears that couldn't be consoled until 3 weeks later, thanks to said pregnancy hormones, the hair had grown fast enough to become pony worthy again.
Now in the time since, I've gotten my hair cut again and done my hair daily (usually said ponytail - I'd rather sleep for that extra 5 minutes). Unfortunately, I hadn't realized that THE CURLS had been slowly but surely plotting their revenge against me.
Over half way through my second trimester, my mom was asking when I straightened my hair. I kept scoffing at her, figuring my hair was just a little straighter from pulling it back in a pony so much. Oh how I wish it were true. One weekend, I had a shower and came out to curly hair - like I have my whole entire life. I let it dry by itself and that`s when something horrible happened - my hair got straighter and straighter. By the time it was dry, my beloved little kinks were a thing of memory. Tried to wash it again the next day, adding in voluminous amounts of volumizing hair products and using the good old diffuser dryer to no avail - the curls have forsaken me.
Please God tell me that this is another cruel joke of pregnancy and my curls will come back with my monthly visitor or at the absolute worst, if they don't return, at least Tilly will get my curls... like in Highlander, there can be only one? So much for my planned entries into mother daughter look alike contests. Kids like that, don't they?
Saturday 15 October 2011
Sunday 2 October 2011
Could I possibly maybe miss being pregnant?!?
Wow, have I ever been a slacker. Totally hurting my chances for world domination through blogging, but figured I needed to postpone my usual kindergartener bedtime and get my act together. We'll see how long this lasts - if I end in the middle of a sentence, I fell asleep again.
So believe it or not, for all the no booze or sushi-ness of pregnancy, and as the day nears that little Tilly will come into the world, I am realizing there may actually be some things I will miss about no longer having my little passenger...
1. People being nicer to me than usual.
Now I admit, not everyone fits into this category - talking to you lady Costco worker who informed me I had dropped something while wrestling my Costco card out only to watch me struggle to pick up my small thumb drive and just smirk at my mild grunting and efforts not to "turtle"
I'm talking to the people that hold open the doors, let me go in front of them in line, reach stuff for me that is too high up (while my tummy has grown exponentially, I am still, sadly, a mere 5'1") and offer me a seat in a crowded room. You people deserve a medal, or at least some good karma. There, I've given you all I can. Go forth and win the 6-49.
2. People lifting / carrying stuff for me.
Yeah, this kind of falls under the category of being nice to me, except people seem to do this whether they want to or not. At work, I take the last morsels of water from the cooler. Before I was pregnant, I would struggle and probably pull something in the groin area attempting to change the giant water jug without spilling it everywhere and blaming it on a water leak. Instead, now I can find any man in the office, smile sweetly, and simply say,"The water jug's empty. Could you please help me since I'm... you know (insert patting of tummy here)." No one ever says no to me. Same with boxes delivered to me and heavy grocery bags. Oh, the power.
3. Blaming the baby for stuff.
Now I realize this seems slightly cruel, but c'mon - I'm sure I'm not the first and I'm sure I won't be the last woman to do this. Teaching my coordinator (who is a big boy, 6'3" and a hockey ref) what I need him to do one day, right in the middle of a sentence, with absolutely no warning, in place of my next word came out a belch that would've made Barney from the Simpsons turn around and take notice. While slightly embarrassed, we laughed, he high-fived me because he said it was "awesome" and I blamed Tilly for the burp. Hey, it never happened to me when I wasn't pregnant, so it was the only reasonable explanation, right?!
Of course, this rule also applies to "fluffies", better know as farts. Sometimes those bad boys just come out of nowhere and smell like something may be rotting inside me. I say it's Tilly's reaction to Indian food - she's obviously not a curry fan.
This can also be applied to indigestion, poor sleeps, too long in the bathroom, acne, and bad hair days.
4. Maternity clothes.
Now my favourite of the maternity pants have this ENORMOUS wide elastic band that goes right up over your whole tummy. It feels like yoga pants material and by extension, makes every pair of pants feel yoga pants-y. Jeans, cords, dress pants - none of those dumb belts and digging buttons or zippers here! Sure, they kinda fall down a little while you walk or get up or down, but then I can feel totally at ease hiking up the pants and even adjusting any accompanying wedgies. And hey, if you don't look just right, people give you a little fashion slack because, hey, you're sleep deprived and can't fit into your "normal" clothes... You never see Marie Claire magazine giving a fashion black bar across the face of a pregnant woman - because then they would be big jerk faces and no one wants that and they must remember that all pregnant women eventually become non-pregnant women.
And as for the shirts... they hide stuff, are long, and generally are made of nice comfy material. And while I love my heels, is it wrong that it seems my feet are in heaven thanks to my constant wearing of birkenstocks, runners, loafers, and pumas?! I don't think my tootsies have been this happy since I discovered height altering footwear as a teeny bopper.
5. Lack of eating guilt.
I'm not gonna say I was a food nazi before I was preggers, but having Tilly inside me has given me new license to enjoy whatever I damn well please. Yes, I am still very good about the foods I'm not supposed to eat (I swear, this is a record for me NOT eating hot dogs), and I eat a bunch of fruits and veggies every day, but now, if I want to eat an ice cream sandwich, dammit get out of my way because that bad boy doesn't have long for this world... And I may even be checking out sister Drumstick or brother-in-law Ice Cream Cake. And by the way, those of you with stock in Kit Kat bars, the drought is over. I see a Kit Kat in my peripheral vision, it is getting hunted and gathered and consumed like a cavewoman collecting berries.
6. Being a "we".
Tilly and I are a 2 for 1 package. We're referred to as "you girls" and when I get home, I say, we're home, not just me. Sure the kicks can get annoying especially when I am so tired I could cry (and sometimes do - another advantage is not holding back tears!), and Tilly-kins has decided that she has taken up tap dancing on my bladder. The weird thing is though, when I get up in the middle of the night for my fourth pee in as many hours, if I DON'T feel her move at least a little bit, I get a little freaked out and jiggle my belly around to make her react. Perhaps another not very mommy move, but at least I can get back to sleep without worrying there's something wrong in there.
7. Looking at baby stuff.
It's not like I couldn't look before I was preg and can't after she's born, but there's this special kind of excitement about looking at the super adorable little dresses, toys, shoes and all the other way over-priced but too friggin' cute baby stuff while having the baby in your tummy.
It's not like you're shopping for someone else for a baby shower - this stuff is for your little girl. And after you have the baby, at least I'm not trying to rush through looking at it before the baby cries or mommy-the-milk-factory is called into service for the upteenth time.
Mind you, I go into baby stores / sections and have a deer in a headlights kind of look (you know it's bad when a manager at Babies R Us takes you by the shoulders, speaks softly and uses short words to explain stuff you ask about that says you must look totally freaked out)
In the same vein, at least when I'm pregnant I can attempt to sort through the immense amount of crap out there for babies - I know the basic basics I need (car seat/stroller, place to sleep, diapers, and some clothes), but between bumbo chairs, snuggies, breast pumps and all the other stuff there is, I don't have any idea what this child needs...
Maybe I'll just take pictures and try to convince her when she gets older and asks questions about why I was so clueless I'll just tell her I was a hippie. Or that I heard the toys were covered in lead paint from China and I didn't want her to get lead poisoning. Ah, I've got a little while to figure that part out... unless she decides to come early. Please God, no.
So believe it or not, for all the no booze or sushi-ness of pregnancy, and as the day nears that little Tilly will come into the world, I am realizing there may actually be some things I will miss about no longer having my little passenger...
1. People being nicer to me than usual.
Now I admit, not everyone fits into this category - talking to you lady Costco worker who informed me I had dropped something while wrestling my Costco card out only to watch me struggle to pick up my small thumb drive and just smirk at my mild grunting and efforts not to "turtle"
I'm talking to the people that hold open the doors, let me go in front of them in line, reach stuff for me that is too high up (while my tummy has grown exponentially, I am still, sadly, a mere 5'1") and offer me a seat in a crowded room. You people deserve a medal, or at least some good karma. There, I've given you all I can. Go forth and win the 6-49.
2. People lifting / carrying stuff for me.
Yeah, this kind of falls under the category of being nice to me, except people seem to do this whether they want to or not. At work, I take the last morsels of water from the cooler. Before I was pregnant, I would struggle and probably pull something in the groin area attempting to change the giant water jug without spilling it everywhere and blaming it on a water leak. Instead, now I can find any man in the office, smile sweetly, and simply say,"The water jug's empty. Could you please help me since I'm... you know (insert patting of tummy here)." No one ever says no to me. Same with boxes delivered to me and heavy grocery bags. Oh, the power.
3. Blaming the baby for stuff.
Now I realize this seems slightly cruel, but c'mon - I'm sure I'm not the first and I'm sure I won't be the last woman to do this. Teaching my coordinator (who is a big boy, 6'3" and a hockey ref) what I need him to do one day, right in the middle of a sentence, with absolutely no warning, in place of my next word came out a belch that would've made Barney from the Simpsons turn around and take notice. While slightly embarrassed, we laughed, he high-fived me because he said it was "awesome" and I blamed Tilly for the burp. Hey, it never happened to me when I wasn't pregnant, so it was the only reasonable explanation, right?!
Of course, this rule also applies to "fluffies", better know as farts. Sometimes those bad boys just come out of nowhere and smell like something may be rotting inside me. I say it's Tilly's reaction to Indian food - she's obviously not a curry fan.
This can also be applied to indigestion, poor sleeps, too long in the bathroom, acne, and bad hair days.
4. Maternity clothes.
Now my favourite of the maternity pants have this ENORMOUS wide elastic band that goes right up over your whole tummy. It feels like yoga pants material and by extension, makes every pair of pants feel yoga pants-y. Jeans, cords, dress pants - none of those dumb belts and digging buttons or zippers here! Sure, they kinda fall down a little while you walk or get up or down, but then I can feel totally at ease hiking up the pants and even adjusting any accompanying wedgies. And hey, if you don't look just right, people give you a little fashion slack because, hey, you're sleep deprived and can't fit into your "normal" clothes... You never see Marie Claire magazine giving a fashion black bar across the face of a pregnant woman - because then they would be big jerk faces and no one wants that and they must remember that all pregnant women eventually become non-pregnant women.
And as for the shirts... they hide stuff, are long, and generally are made of nice comfy material. And while I love my heels, is it wrong that it seems my feet are in heaven thanks to my constant wearing of birkenstocks, runners, loafers, and pumas?! I don't think my tootsies have been this happy since I discovered height altering footwear as a teeny bopper.
5. Lack of eating guilt.
I'm not gonna say I was a food nazi before I was preggers, but having Tilly inside me has given me new license to enjoy whatever I damn well please. Yes, I am still very good about the foods I'm not supposed to eat (I swear, this is a record for me NOT eating hot dogs), and I eat a bunch of fruits and veggies every day, but now, if I want to eat an ice cream sandwich, dammit get out of my way because that bad boy doesn't have long for this world... And I may even be checking out sister Drumstick or brother-in-law Ice Cream Cake. And by the way, those of you with stock in Kit Kat bars, the drought is over. I see a Kit Kat in my peripheral vision, it is getting hunted and gathered and consumed like a cavewoman collecting berries.
6. Being a "we".
Tilly and I are a 2 for 1 package. We're referred to as "you girls" and when I get home, I say, we're home, not just me. Sure the kicks can get annoying especially when I am so tired I could cry (and sometimes do - another advantage is not holding back tears!), and Tilly-kins has decided that she has taken up tap dancing on my bladder. The weird thing is though, when I get up in the middle of the night for my fourth pee in as many hours, if I DON'T feel her move at least a little bit, I get a little freaked out and jiggle my belly around to make her react. Perhaps another not very mommy move, but at least I can get back to sleep without worrying there's something wrong in there.
7. Looking at baby stuff.
It's not like I couldn't look before I was preg and can't after she's born, but there's this special kind of excitement about looking at the super adorable little dresses, toys, shoes and all the other way over-priced but too friggin' cute baby stuff while having the baby in your tummy.
It's not like you're shopping for someone else for a baby shower - this stuff is for your little girl. And after you have the baby, at least I'm not trying to rush through looking at it before the baby cries or mommy-the-milk-factory is called into service for the upteenth time.
Mind you, I go into baby stores / sections and have a deer in a headlights kind of look (you know it's bad when a manager at Babies R Us takes you by the shoulders, speaks softly and uses short words to explain stuff you ask about that says you must look totally freaked out)
In the same vein, at least when I'm pregnant I can attempt to sort through the immense amount of crap out there for babies - I know the basic basics I need (car seat/stroller, place to sleep, diapers, and some clothes), but between bumbo chairs, snuggies, breast pumps and all the other stuff there is, I don't have any idea what this child needs...
Maybe I'll just take pictures and try to convince her when she gets older and asks questions about why I was so clueless I'll just tell her I was a hippie. Or that I heard the toys were covered in lead paint from China and I didn't want her to get lead poisoning. Ah, I've got a little while to figure that part out... unless she decides to come early. Please God, no.
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