Confessions of the Divine Miss K

Tuesday, December 22, 2009

So when does the unselfishness kick in?

So. I just had the best weekend ever. My mom and I went to Vancouver and she totally spoiled me and I got my hair cut and coloured at the Holt Renfrew salon and we went to a fabulous Christmas party and I bought three cute things (1 adorable yellow-mustard tunic; 1 purple and black dress that I got for a steal - $16.99!!! - and a great set of bangles). I also bought the world's most gorgeous Coach purse. I know. But it was too beautiful not to get and the most amazing thing (besides it being 25% off) was that it doesn't look anything like a Coach purse (which I mostly dislike and think look fugly).
I also managed to purchase ZERO baby stuff. And that's where I'm starting to get worried. I am halfway through this pregnancy and I have done NOTHING. Not a thing. I haven't bought anything, I haven't planned anything, we still haven't given any thought to a name muchless a nursery theme. And I should be starting to get panicky but I'm not. Instead, I'm all "Meh, what else can I buy myself?" I have a few onesies that have been given to me. Oh, and I bought a blue bib last time I was in Victoria that had a white Lucy dog on the front (problem is I think it's probably more appropriate for a girl than a boy).
So what to do? Seriously, I how do you start planning a nursery? Where do you even begin? And holy shit what about a freakin' crib. It's terrifying. Adders and I are going to Calgary next week to celebrate New Year's with Tamara Lee and the Mike and Adders was all, "Well, you better be prepared to buy a crib." Ummm, I'm not even prepared to buy a bottle at this point. I have no idea what I'm looking for, what I want. It's too overwhelming. How do people do this? And what's happened to my anal, overly-prepared, highly-organized, permanent-nester self? Scary. I think the unselfishness that apparently is required of motherhood needs to start kicking.
But back to my purse! It was the greatest Christmas present to myself. And yes, I realize that it is impractical and I should be saving my pennies for formula and booties. But hey, maybe it's big enough to use as a diaper bag?

Friday, December 18, 2009

And speaking of puppy dog tails...

So I'm not sure what to expect out of this whole motherhood thing. I mean, we all know that the difference between how we tend to picture things (fantasy of unicorns and whimsy and everything covered in chocolate) versus the reality (kill me now) are usually two very separate things. Yet as far as I can tell, motherhood seems to be one of those things that certainly lives up to its expectations. So however amazing I think it might be, it certainly will be. Although I'm sure however horrible and terrifying and confusing I think it might be as well, it will likely be that too.
What I'm trying to get at is that while I'm anticipating becoming a mom, I'm also really nervous. Like I'm looking forward to the cuddles and the little baby smiles. But it's so hard to imagine this little person, this little boy. I can't see him in my head. That could be because I'm too busy imagining all of the horrors of parenthood (lack of sleep, projectile vomiting and pooping, baby screaming at top of his lungs in Safeway, ohmygod FLYING WITH SAID BABY) (sidenote: I don't think anything terrifies me more than flying with a baby. I am PETRIFIED of it. And yet, I know I'll want to go to Mexico at some point. How do people do this? And how do I ensure that not everyone on the plane loathes me?).
Anyhow, the only thing I have to compare motherhood to is, well, parenting my dog Lucy. Now Adders will tell you that I pretty much love Lucy most in this world. And, well, Adders wouldn't be too off the mark. I joke. Kind of. I love that dog. No really, let me emphasize that - I luuuuuuuurrve that dog. I repeatedly thank God for her. I fret over her. Because my new job means that I can't take her with me to work, I suffer from immense guilt that she's sitting at home by herself all the live long day (yes, I know her daddy is home with her for an hour for lunch each day. But he doesn't love her and take care of her the way that I do!). Even when it's minus 20 out, I will take her for a walk, though it may be the last thing on Earth I want to do, just because it makes her so very happy.
Literally, I adore this dog. Her sweet nature, her puppy kisses, her obsession with certain toys (currently it's her yellow lemon squeaky toy, before that it was her orange frisbee) and complete disregard for other ones. I love the way she comes to greet me, with her tail wagging her entire body in excitement. I love when she looks at me with those big brown eyes, so hopeful that maybe just maybe I'll take her for a walk. I love how when I let her sleep with us, she nestles in right beside me, as if all she wants in this world is a good cuddle. I love how if you give her a piece of carrot, she won't eat it right then and there like she does every other treat. Oh no - a carrot requires concentration and deliberation and thus must first be carried over to the carpet where she can lay down in front of the fireplace and chew to her heart's content.
I love her determination, how she'll always swim after her frisbee, even if the threat of drowning is imminent. I even love the way she perches herself on top of our couch, keeping vigil over 14th Avenue, protecting us from the dangers of other dogs and the mailman.
There are things about her that drive me crazy. She can be overly-sensitive which makes me feel guilty (anytime Adders and I are fighting, she will go hide somewhere) (and when we are fighting, if you pick her up, she'll be shaking. Poor thing). She gets super depressed if you don't take her for a walk and will either pout all night on the couch, or follow you around until you're forced to clip on that supid leash. She can be picky about her dinner and is extremely clingy with me when she's around strangers. She hates visiting other people's houses and goes ballistic if there is another dog nearby when we're on a walk.
But for the most part, I honestly think she's the world's greatest dog. I can't imagine my life without her and I can't believe how much she's enriched the life I do have. And if that's what a dog can do, I can only imagine how this Lil' Bastard is going to blow me away.
Hmmm, so this is why the always say you should get a dog first before becoming a parent.

Wednesday, December 16, 2009

Frogs and snails and puppy dogs' tails...

That's what little boys are made of.

A boy. I'm having a son. The joy of it is enormous. So is the pressure. I mean, I'm now responsible for raising this individual who I hope will be both masculine and sensitive, tough but tender. That's such a rare thing to find in a man but dammit I'm going to try, for his sake, my sake, his (future) sisters' sakes and his wife's sake.

In the past, whenever I imagined pregnancy, it was always me pregnant with a baby girl. When I pictured myself decorating a nursery, breast-feeding a newborn, proudly showing off my child, I always, always fantasized about a girl. Even at the beginning of this pregnancy, I wanted a girl. I mean, having a daughter is pretty much my life's biggest hope and dream.

And yet, somehow over the past few months, all I've prayed to God during my morning prayer is "Let it be a boy." Don't get me wrong - I would be just as ecstatic if this teeny tiny human dancing around my uterus was a female. But for anyone who thinks I'm disappointed I'm getting a boy, they couldn't be more wrong.

For one, it makes me so happy that Adders is thrilled he's having a son. There is something strange and primal about it but men seem to think that having a boy = strong virility, as if their own manhood is reaffirmed by the existence of an heir. I don't know. But I do think that now he'll be more engaged, more excited, more involved with this pregnancy and birth than he might have been otherwise (which sounds horrible but is likely true).

Plus, I had two older brothers growing up and it was great. Yes, they tease and can be bullies and bossy and leave you out. But they're also protectors and they take you on the best adventures. Oh, and they make you laugh and laugh and laugh. Having an older brother is something I'm so thrilled I get to provide for my other future children.

As for him, this wee little boy who is madly dancing around inside me, who's little arms waved at me this morning on the ultrasound, I cannot wait to meet him. I can't wait to cuddle him and breastfeed him, to show him trucks and machines and watch him go for his first quad ride with his daddy. I can't wait to see him laugh and help him explore all around the backyard. I can't wait to take him skiing and force him to practice piano. And I can't wait to help him become the best man he can be, the best version of himself.

For him I hope these things:
His maternal grandpa's work ethic; his maternal grandma's passion for God; his paternal grandpa's infectious smile; his paternal grandma's graciousness; his aunt and uncle's thick, dark and wavy hair along with their trademark dimples; his oldest uncle's imagination that made my childhood so magical; his other uncle's sense of humour and keen individualism; his dad's easy-going and agreeable personality; and his mom's drive and belief that one should always do the right thing.

I hope he gets the best of all of us. But I know that no matter what, he's going to be perfect.

Now we just have to find the perfect name for our little tadpole. And to think we already had a girl's name all picked out!

Tuesday, December 08, 2009

And the guilt begins

So hi! I'm pregnant. Have I mentioned that? I guess I have. See, I'm constantly torn between being one of those people who never shuts up about their pregnancy (do not want to be that person) and being that woman who like didn't even realize she was pregnant until she sat down on the toilet one day and pooped out a baby.

Gross, I know. But what I mean, is that in some ways I'm already feeling the mommy-guilt over not being "consumed" enough by this pregnancy. I can barely read a page in my "What to Expect" book without going, "Boring. Next!" I can't seem to get motivated to research nursery decor or strollers or even figure out my birth plan.

Over the last few months I kept thinking I would do nothing but that all winter long when I was unemployed. But now that I'm gainfully employed, I haven't found the time. Ok, that's a lie because I do have time, even at work, to look stuff up on the internet. But I don't. Because I find it snoozeville.

Well, maybe the inspiration for the nursery and all of that other stuff will come, particularly after we find out the sex of the baby, which is next week! Eeeek! I'm soooo eager and excited to find out what it is. I already told Charkins that I think I will be both thrilled and disappointed either way.

Here are the pros & cons for both:

Pros - A GIRL! MY GIRL! The girl I've fantasized and dreamed about and absolutely must have, if not with this kid, the next. I mean, it's all I've ever hoped for really. And of course there's the clothes and the pink nursery and the fact that we already have a name for a girl! And there is also the relief knowing that we won't have to have 8 boys in a desperate bid to get our girl.

Cons - Well, I've always wanted my first born to be a boy. I think with a girl as your first, you expect more out of her (to baby-sit more, help around the house more, etc).

Pros - As corny as it sounds, there is something so appealing to me about giving Adders a son. I know he wants one ("so bad he can taste it!") and c'mon, little boys?! Too cute. And they love their mothers the most. And as I mentioned, your first-born as a boy - perfect. It would also prove the Redhead's theory is correct, because according to when we conceived the baby in terms of my ovulation cycle, this baby should definitely be a boy. If it isn't, well, I'll have no idea how to conceive baby #2.

Cons - the only con to having this be a boy is that, well, it just means the pressure will be all the more intense on baby #2 because as I made clear to Adders way back when we were just dating - we keep having babies no matter what until I get my girl. No matter what. Oh, and I know it might seem silly but buying boy stuff just isn't as much fun as girl stuff. Plus, there's the worry that the sister-in-law is going to have a girl so my boy will just be mincemeat in comparison.

I don't know - I just really want to know what the sex is because then I think the baby will be more of a person to me, more real. That being said, it's so cool to feel it moving now. The kicking and swooshing sensation comes and go (we tried the whole flashflight thing on the belly, which Adders found offensive and mean but went along with anyway, and it REALLY got the baby going!). I find I notice it most at night, when I'm concentrating, although even right now I'm feeling some movement in there. But it's so faint, that sometimes I think it's something else or if I'm just imagining it. Weird.

What else can I report about this pregnancy? Well, at 19 weeks, I'm starving all the time. Like I could graze from morning to night. But at the same time, when I have a big meal, I notice that I get fuller a lot faster than normal. Like I'll be hungry, hungry, hungry, oh wait, yeah, I need to throw up I'm so full.

I'm not nearly as tired as I used to be in the first trimester. In fact, I feel completely normal in that regard. My hormones are still a bit frantic, but then I've always been a hormonal nutjob, so there's nothing new there. I can often sleep throughout the night without getting up to pee, although I'll wake up about 20 minutes before my alarm, about to burst. I can no longer sleep on my tummy - it hurts. But oh God, do I miss that sleeping position. I try and stay on my left side but every night I'll wake up a few times and realize I'm on my back. Apparently this is bad and I'm killing my baby. Sorry about that, LB.

My nails were awesome for a while, now they are back to suckage. I notice no change in my hair whatsoever and that is tragic because I always held onto the hope that when I was pregnant my hair would resume its former curly glory. Nope, it's just wavy and blah. Oh, and my bangs seem greasier.

My skin is a general disaster. Actually, my skin is more like the apocalypse. I have worse skin now than I did when I was 14. That is beyond tragedy. It was so bad that I spent a day crying about it to my mother.

I look pregnant but not too pregnant. I mean, you'd look at me and still wonder, as it's not that noticeable. But I definitely can't fit into my old clothes anymore (and not just around my tummy - like I can't even pull up the pant leg past my calf, I've gotten so fat). I still hate this in-between stage and am looking forward to being huge, because at least then everyone will know. Adders accuses me of always announcing my pregnancy to perfect strangers. But why not, if it makes them open a door for me or be nicer, why they hell not?!

The only other major pregnancy symptom I'm experiencing is headaches. Oh dear God, the headaches. And they're not like pregnancy headaches, oh no. They are hormonal headaches which means my whole head throbs in time to my heartbeat. They are unbearable and horrendous and I have no frickin' idea what triggers them. I must get three or four a week and the only thing that works is Tylenol Migraine (which has caffeine) (I know! Bad Mommy!).

So yeah, that's my preggers update. I'll let you know the sex when we find out. In the meantime, here's to keeping my fingers crossed for, well, both options actually!

Wednesday, December 02, 2009

Blessings and Bleatings

Ok, so I'm going to lay it all out here. I am blessed. I may be one of those most blessed people in the world. I'm not exaggerating. I have a wonderful husband, pretty much the most adorable dog that ever existed EVER, we live in a beautiful house (which though old works for us most of the time), I have a great family, both immediate and in-laws. I'm healthy, reasonably good-looking and smart enough. Oh, and all it took to get pregnant was Adders and I looking at each other across the dinner table. For reals. I am one of the lucky few that leads a charmed life.

And yet, I struggle, STRUGGLE, with trying to be happy and content and "in the now." I mean, I'm not depressed. I don't have trouble sleeping or getting up in the morning, I don't want to kill myself or anything like that. I just can't seem to ever be satisfied. Something is always not right.

And I've always been like this. Even in university, I was stressed constantly over some essay or exam. It was too much pressure and I couldn't stand the deadlines. But then in my previous job with that motherfucking asshole, I was bored a lot of the time. And so I'd complain about that - how I wasn't fulfilled. And if it's not work, it's Adders and I that I'm stressed about. Or Charkins and I that is messed up. Or my mother and I that are on the brink. So I basically spend a good portion of my life fretting, whether it be about work, relationships, or even how much I have to get done on a given Saturday!

And it's exhausting. But I don't know how to change. Over the past 6 months, I've started to apply myself spiritually once again. For the past 5 years, I'd taken a long, long hiatus from God and while I never stopped believing in Him, I certainly did go through a rebellious time. Now whether I was rebelling against God or my mother, I don't know (probably both). But I've since come to the realization (and the resignation) that really, He's all I got at the end of the day. And I wouldn't have any of these blessings, hell, I wouldn't even be me, if it weren't for Him. Plus, I have this precious little baby on the way and I have to make sure I do everything I can for him/her, and that includes making God the focus of our lives. So yes, I've reignited my love affair with God, which I know - cheesy, icky, you probably need to go puke now, but oh so true.

And that's great. And I've had a lot of realizations, inspiration and direction, courtesy of God. I've had a lot of prayers answered. I certainly feel healthier (and happier too) than I did a year ago. But still. And it's not that I'm ungrateful. Trust me, I've had "gratefulness" beaten into me my whole entire life. It's that I'm somehow still resentful that things aren't perfect. Why I should expect perfection in life, I have NO bloody idea. I mean, how immature is that? But it's the truth.

An example. Last July, my boss and I had this huge, HUGE falling out, which led to my leaving his office. The relationship had become abusive and horrible and I knew that I was not supposed to be there anymore, and I had actually known that for some time. So I felt in some ways it was God extracting me from a situation that He no longer wanted me in. I could have done it myself and it probably would have been less messy and painful if I hadn't been so scared and whimpy, but at any rate, I got out.

I got severance pay for 5 weeks. Which meant I had all of August off, paid, and yet I spent the entire time fretting about not having a job, what I should do with my life, whether I should get pregnant. AAAUUUGH! Exactly 5 weeks later, I got a new job, with flexible hours and amazing pay. Only catch was that it being contract, I wouldn't get any hours for my maternity leave. But whatevs. Nevertheless, throughout this contract, I fretted that I didn't like the work, that I was too tired with the pregnancy, I lacked motivation, oh, and what the hell was I going to do when the contract ended and I had no job. Who would hire a 4.5 month pregnant woman?

As you can see, my life would be pretty dull if I didn't have the future to constantly agonize over.

Anyhow, the day before my job ended there, I got an email from a different company, inquiring whether I would be interested in interviewing for a job opening. I would, I did, I got the job. And it's a 5 month contract, taking me up to the baby's birth, but it also looks like I'll get the hours counted towards my maternity leave.

Do you see how God has blessed me? I have never been without work, without a pay cheque, nothing. I prayed for a great job, despite knowing it was a long shot because I was so pregnant. And I got it! Yet, now I sit here, depressed at this new job. It's 30 minutes away from Crannie, I can't go home for lunch, no one has told me what I'm really doing, I hate getting back into town so late that I can't run errands, I hate leaving Lucy all day at home alone, the cost of gas is steep. Also, I hate being bored and sitting in front of my computer 8 hours a day, wondering why I continue to get jobs that I am constantly unfulfilled at.

So what's the solution? I'm blessed but discontent; grateful but frustrated. And this isn't right. Because in the end, I'll look back at these few months and I'll see how they flew by and how lucky I was and I'll think to myself, "It wasn't so bad - why did I get so worked up?"

If all I have is the now, and that's really all any of us have, I must accept this job and where I'm at in life and be happy with it. I just really need to figure out how to do that. I don't want to approach this job with dread. And I don't want to keep worrying about the future.