Christmas was different than I'd thought it would be. My festive spirit woke up and started throwing tinsel everywhere, screaming "Jingle Bells" at the top of its lungs until I gave in and stopped being a grinch. It helped that my niece, who is adorable, was incredibly excited about Christmas. She's almost two-- and despite all the drama that's centered around her, she's incredibly happy and chipper. Her mom is J, who I had expected to have some problems with today.
I didn't have any problems with her, to my surprise. We actually bonded. And she and my brother-in-law, M, announced to Robby and I (they'd told the rest of the family, but wanted to be sure we were told in person) that they're expecting another little girl. J is four months along and strangely enough, I knew as soon as I walked in the door. I was going to ask her, but the only thing I had to go on was that she looked slightly rounder and the way her hips tilted when she walked was different-- and I neither wanted her to think I was insinuating she was fat, nor think that I was looking at her butt (I wasn't, I just notice things like bone structure and balance). I had some emotional conflict about it. On one hand, I'm WAY excited that I'm going to have another tiny niece to spoil. On the other, it was a reminder that I'm not going to be having any more children, and she is. But when I thought more about it, I realized that I'll only be not having more children biologically--- we plan on adopting, and adopted little ones are just as much a new baby in the family as one that's been growing in a family member's uterus. You know, if that makes any sense. I've never had much of a line in my mind about adopted family members (I'm referencing the type of adoption with legal paperwork) and blood-related ones. After all, my mom and her biological sister were adopted by my grandparents, and my cousin is adopted. There's kids of Robby's cousins that are adopted.
But I'm tangenting off-- long story short, I was sad and a bit jealous, but now I feel better about it, and I'm sincerely happy about having a new niece on the way. And did I mention that she's due June 8th? That's three days after my birthday. I told J that I thought the baby would show up on the 2nd or 3rd. With all honesty, though, she'll probably come on the 5th--- my birthday, and M&J's wedding anniversary... and exactly one month off from her sister's b'day. June 5th is a busy day for our family.
I got a very, very meaningful gift from my friend Tracee. I don't remember ever crying when I've gotten a gift before, but this one brought me to (albeit manly) tears. She'd made me a scarf from the yarn that she'd originally gotten to make a baby blanket for Dahlia. It was green, orange and a pale off-white. She did the scarf in stripes, so it sort of looks like I'm rockin' a muted Irish flag. I've been wearing it all day-- I have some pictures to post later, when I get my camera hooked up to this computer and things transferred over.
I got some pretty awesome gifts-- Sebastian got me two blind bags, one MLP and one Doctor Who. I pulled a background pony who's name I can't remember off the top of my head and the rare attack-mode Weeping Angel. Froggy got a hilarious onesie from him, too. Some of the other gifts that stuck out were an aesthetic Buddha that I'd fallen in love with at Marukai, a TARDIS mini-cooler/warmer that makes the noise when I open the door. It's amazing and I keep opening and closing the door, just so I can pretend to be the doctor. >.> Froggy got a frog blanket that's ridiculously adorable and I may or may not be borrowing for the time being. It's so fuzzzzzy~~
And Bub loved the gifts I got him-- purple d20 cufflinks, a stage magic/sleight of hand kit and one of those 8bit oldschool ties from think geek.
All in all, Christmas day surprised me. It was full of things that yesterday, I thought I wouldn't be able to handle, things that came out of right field that I think I handled well and things that made me both really happy and really... something else. And it was all wrapped up with watching the new Doctor Who episode with Sebastian, Ian and Bub.
Here's to the coming new year, the turning of the wheel and all that jazz.
- Loki
Tuesday, December 25, 2012
Sunday, December 23, 2012
Christmas is burning
I just got home from an absolutely amazing two-ish days out in Castaic with family. It was great to see all of them-- I met a few people that I hadn't gotten to know before, so hopefully I've made some new friends (I'd like to think I have). I was beyond thrilled that people liked my Yule gifts, ate WAY too many cookies and bonded with my siblings, niece and nephew.
And then, I came home.
For some reason, coming home to my apartment sucked the happy right out of me. I don't know how I feel right now, except for annoyed. Annoyed that the place is cluttered, annoyed that I can't clean it... all those things and then some. Thank you, Leira and Mykal for putting up with the amount of sheer rage that I radiated when I walked in my door.
But the fact that I was still annoyed after cleaning and taking care of what was going on made me think. I realized that what's bothering me more than mess or chores not getting taken care of is that I desperately miss my family. The way that things are heading, it might be my grandfather's last Christmas-- and I'm probably not going to see him until sometime in February. I'm (about) two hours away from my family in Castaic... much like every time the holidays roll around, the separation and distance between me and the people I love feels like a million miles and hurts like hell. I've told Bub that I'm jealous-- his family lives, at most, 45 minutes away. We're going to get to see different parts of his side of the family three times during the holiday.
I sound bitter, I know. And I might even sound like a bit of a bitch. But family is one of the most important things to me, and I miss mine. I don't know when I'll get to see Mykal and Leira or the kids next. It might be a week-- it might be a month. I don't know when I'll finally get to do that art jam with Avie like I want to.
I'm frustrated. I'm used to my body hurting, and it's something that I can manage. But this deep ache in my heart? That's a bit much right now. I know I have a gorgeous little boy and a great husband to be celebrating the holidays with but at the same time, I keep thinking that Froggy's Nana won't get to spoil him for Christmas like she was so excited to do. I'm worried about the potential power struggle with J. I think that I was expecting this Christmas to feel a certain way, and with the exception of Yule and the joy it brought me, I haven't felt that Christmas sparkle that I usually do. We don't even have a tree this year.
This is the first year that I've never had a tree. That, for some reason, makes me feel even more broken. My house doesn't smell like fir. There isn't something for the cats to stare at in wonder, or for us to put presents under. We don't have a single ornament up, and the one decoration that I put out keeps falling down and nobody but me cares enough to pick it up off the floor. I feel like my Christmas spirit has been shanked and left to die in the gutter somewhere.
And to top it off, for some strange reason, I feel guilty for feeling like this after having such a great weekend. My psyche is a confusing thing and I'd like it to please, please shut up now.
- Loki
And then, I came home.
For some reason, coming home to my apartment sucked the happy right out of me. I don't know how I feel right now, except for annoyed. Annoyed that the place is cluttered, annoyed that I can't clean it... all those things and then some. Thank you, Leira and Mykal for putting up with the amount of sheer rage that I radiated when I walked in my door.
But the fact that I was still annoyed after cleaning and taking care of what was going on made me think. I realized that what's bothering me more than mess or chores not getting taken care of is that I desperately miss my family. The way that things are heading, it might be my grandfather's last Christmas-- and I'm probably not going to see him until sometime in February. I'm (about) two hours away from my family in Castaic... much like every time the holidays roll around, the separation and distance between me and the people I love feels like a million miles and hurts like hell. I've told Bub that I'm jealous-- his family lives, at most, 45 minutes away. We're going to get to see different parts of his side of the family three times during the holiday.
I sound bitter, I know. And I might even sound like a bit of a bitch. But family is one of the most important things to me, and I miss mine. I don't know when I'll get to see Mykal and Leira or the kids next. It might be a week-- it might be a month. I don't know when I'll finally get to do that art jam with Avie like I want to.
I'm frustrated. I'm used to my body hurting, and it's something that I can manage. But this deep ache in my heart? That's a bit much right now. I know I have a gorgeous little boy and a great husband to be celebrating the holidays with but at the same time, I keep thinking that Froggy's Nana won't get to spoil him for Christmas like she was so excited to do. I'm worried about the potential power struggle with J. I think that I was expecting this Christmas to feel a certain way, and with the exception of Yule and the joy it brought me, I haven't felt that Christmas sparkle that I usually do. We don't even have a tree this year.
This is the first year that I've never had a tree. That, for some reason, makes me feel even more broken. My house doesn't smell like fir. There isn't something for the cats to stare at in wonder, or for us to put presents under. We don't have a single ornament up, and the one decoration that I put out keeps falling down and nobody but me cares enough to pick it up off the floor. I feel like my Christmas spirit has been shanked and left to die in the gutter somewhere.
And to top it off, for some strange reason, I feel guilty for feeling like this after having such a great weekend. My psyche is a confusing thing and I'd like it to please, please shut up now.
- Loki
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
10 things I didn't expect about childbirth
When I first became pregnant, I wasn't entirely sure what to expect. It was an interesting and very rough pregnancy... but what was even more of an unknown was labor itself. It was the first time I'd carried to term, and despite how much I read about it, or talked with women who had 'been there, done that', it was full of little things that I wish someone had told me about. Especially the ones that hit sudden and hard or were somewhat embarrassing.
1) There's a very, very good chance that you're going to throw up uncontrollably at some point. There's a nerve that runs along the interior of the spine, called the Vagus nerve. When the baby drops farther down into the pelvis (usually transition) his head presses against that nerve. And that nerve, being a jerk, thinks that it's getting the message to make you throw up. For me, it hit hard and fast. Rinsing my mouth out with cool water helped and so did shifting so that there was counter-pressure to take the weight off of the nerve. It was also really, really startling when it happened; I had an epidural, so I wasn't feeling much pain or sensation. It was literally out of nowhere that I suddenly needed to throw up. Very suddenly. Keeping a bag/bucket nearby, or having your coach have one in easy reach might make you feel better about the potential surprise barfing.
2) If you have an epidural, they'll do a catheter. They do it after the epidural has taken effect, so it's not painful (or at least it wasn't for me). It isn't much of a surprise that you'll have to have a cath' with an epidural, but it WILL come as a surprise how hard it might be to move your legs for the nurse to do what she's gotta. I couldn't even move my left leg at all, it was REALLY weird. You can't feel your legs- so poking at them will sort of feel like you're poking squishy dough. It was slightly unnerving for me, so I left them be. Also, the nurse will just get all up in there. Mine gestured with a lubed-up tube while explaining what was about to transpire. This leads me to a bit of advice: if you're allergic to latex, make sure that you or your coach are very, very vocal about it. It was written all over my charts and on the info board for the nurses, but the nurse still almost used a latex cath' on me.
3) If you tear and need stitches, they'll give you a local anesthetic. In plain, blunt english, that means "a shot in the hooha". Usually, you won't feel it at all-- they do it while the epidural is still wearing off (epidurals are generally turned down and then off during the pushing stage). However, that doesn't mean that the local they give you won't wear off mid-stitching. This happened for me. I felt a sudden pinching, then immediately said something. They gave me more anesthetic (which didn't hurt as much as I thought it would, because hey, everything down there was like "LOL. A needle? A tiny pinprick? COME AT ME, BRO.") and things were groovy.
4) So, this is one of the embarrassing ones. Especially if you have an epidural, you're going to be a fart-machine. I swear, at one point, I thought that an oompa band had taken up residence in my butt. The nurses are happy to hear you flarp. It means that your guts are still working, that the baby isn't pinching anything closed that needs to be open and that...well... that you're doing good. I'm not entirely sure what all their reasons are for happiness over gassiness.
5) One thing that startled me was that when Froggy was put on my chest, he had a distinct smell. It wasn't a bad smell, and it wasn't a good smell. To me, it smelled very musty- sort of like the loam on a forest floor. It was very organic. I really don't have a perfect way to describe how he smelled, but the scent clung for a few days- I'd take up in the middle of the night while we were still in the hospital, furiously sniffing and trying to figure out what the new, weird smell was. The oddest part was that no-one else seemed to smell it once he'd had his bath. I figure that it has to do with the bonding process- your baby will have a smell that's unique to him. But again, it was a weird smell.
6) When you've had your baby, and after the placenta is delivered (because you've gotta deliver that, too. It didn't hurt at all for me, but felt really weird), the doctor is going to be very preoccupied with your vagina. Seriously. And if you need any stitches, they're going to be obsessed with sponges. Slightly unnerving story here: when they were counting the sponges after stitching and cleaning everything up, and making sure that an internal tear I'd gotten had stopped bleeding, they couldn't find one. Without much warning, the doctor reached her entire hand up inside my uterus to make sure that it hadn't escaped in there. So, she's roughly forearm deep in my business when we hear from one of the assisting nurses "Oh, here it is. It was in the bowl.". Honestly...? You'd think that it would have been uncomfortable to have felt a hand and part of an arm in there, but I didn't even really know it had happened until the doctor commented "I'm sorry about that... You didn't really *need* my whole hand up there. But at least we're sure there's no clotting!"
And on the upside, I never had that horribly heavy, horror-movie-esque bleeding postpartum. In fact, I was completely done, spotting included, at about two weeks postpartum.
7) Your first nurse (I say first, because there might be a shift change while you're in labor) might be a complete douche. Your second nurse might be a complete douche. I wasn't coherent enough at the time (aside from snarling a few mean things) when my first nurse was being horrible to remember that I could request a different nurse. My second nurse was made of sunshine and stardust and was some kind of saint.
8) I had an entire soundtrack set up to listen to while in labor. Music usually helps me be calm and focus-- but I couldn't STAND the sound. I could at some moments, but others, I needed it to be quiet and fast. Other moments, I needed it to be dark. Or cold. Or hot. Or bright. Or... some strange combination of impossible things. The things you might think you want or need, you might end up absolutely hating while you're in labor.
9) This isn't something I didn't know- I was well aware of what I might say or do during labor. You've probably got a pretty good idea that there might be some swearing, some very heart-felt 'i love you's' and... crazy laughter? I burst out laughing a few times. I also randomly started crying. The way that Saint Nurse explained it to me (since again, I had an epidural) was that my body was running a marathon. My hormones were going insane. And so my brain was running through every coping mechanism in the book.
10) There are two things that no one, from what I've understood, is ever ready for. One is how much labor hurts. My epi wore off about as soon as I hit transition. Froggy got his shoulder caught on one side of my pelvis. It hurt worse than anything I can describe to you.
The second thing that you won't be prepared for, or maybe even expect, is the strange feeling you'll have the second they put your baby on your chest. To be deeply personal here, it was suddenly like every bad thing I'd gone through trying to have a child was suddenly worth it. Bub and I lost our first pregnancy- so holding this little, gooey, stinky boy was a miracle beyond description and beyond comprehension. The room can be full of people, your partner or your mom or whomever can be right there at your side, having their own little bubble of bliss-- but all that you'll see for those first few, precious seconds is every dream that you've ever had, come true.
- Loki
1) There's a very, very good chance that you're going to throw up uncontrollably at some point. There's a nerve that runs along the interior of the spine, called the Vagus nerve. When the baby drops farther down into the pelvis (usually transition) his head presses against that nerve. And that nerve, being a jerk, thinks that it's getting the message to make you throw up. For me, it hit hard and fast. Rinsing my mouth out with cool water helped and so did shifting so that there was counter-pressure to take the weight off of the nerve. It was also really, really startling when it happened; I had an epidural, so I wasn't feeling much pain or sensation. It was literally out of nowhere that I suddenly needed to throw up. Very suddenly. Keeping a bag/bucket nearby, or having your coach have one in easy reach might make you feel better about the potential surprise barfing.
2) If you have an epidural, they'll do a catheter. They do it after the epidural has taken effect, so it's not painful (or at least it wasn't for me). It isn't much of a surprise that you'll have to have a cath' with an epidural, but it WILL come as a surprise how hard it might be to move your legs for the nurse to do what she's gotta. I couldn't even move my left leg at all, it was REALLY weird. You can't feel your legs- so poking at them will sort of feel like you're poking squishy dough. It was slightly unnerving for me, so I left them be. Also, the nurse will just get all up in there. Mine gestured with a lubed-up tube while explaining what was about to transpire. This leads me to a bit of advice: if you're allergic to latex, make sure that you or your coach are very, very vocal about it. It was written all over my charts and on the info board for the nurses, but the nurse still almost used a latex cath' on me.
3) If you tear and need stitches, they'll give you a local anesthetic. In plain, blunt english, that means "a shot in the hooha". Usually, you won't feel it at all-- they do it while the epidural is still wearing off (epidurals are generally turned down and then off during the pushing stage). However, that doesn't mean that the local they give you won't wear off mid-stitching. This happened for me. I felt a sudden pinching, then immediately said something. They gave me more anesthetic (which didn't hurt as much as I thought it would, because hey, everything down there was like "LOL. A needle? A tiny pinprick? COME AT ME, BRO.") and things were groovy.
4) So, this is one of the embarrassing ones. Especially if you have an epidural, you're going to be a fart-machine. I swear, at one point, I thought that an oompa band had taken up residence in my butt. The nurses are happy to hear you flarp. It means that your guts are still working, that the baby isn't pinching anything closed that needs to be open and that...well... that you're doing good. I'm not entirely sure what all their reasons are for happiness over gassiness.
5) One thing that startled me was that when Froggy was put on my chest, he had a distinct smell. It wasn't a bad smell, and it wasn't a good smell. To me, it smelled very musty- sort of like the loam on a forest floor. It was very organic. I really don't have a perfect way to describe how he smelled, but the scent clung for a few days- I'd take up in the middle of the night while we were still in the hospital, furiously sniffing and trying to figure out what the new, weird smell was. The oddest part was that no-one else seemed to smell it once he'd had his bath. I figure that it has to do with the bonding process- your baby will have a smell that's unique to him. But again, it was a weird smell.
6) When you've had your baby, and after the placenta is delivered (because you've gotta deliver that, too. It didn't hurt at all for me, but felt really weird), the doctor is going to be very preoccupied with your vagina. Seriously. And if you need any stitches, they're going to be obsessed with sponges. Slightly unnerving story here: when they were counting the sponges after stitching and cleaning everything up, and making sure that an internal tear I'd gotten had stopped bleeding, they couldn't find one. Without much warning, the doctor reached her entire hand up inside my uterus to make sure that it hadn't escaped in there. So, she's roughly forearm deep in my business when we hear from one of the assisting nurses "Oh, here it is. It was in the bowl.". Honestly...? You'd think that it would have been uncomfortable to have felt a hand and part of an arm in there, but I didn't even really know it had happened until the doctor commented "I'm sorry about that... You didn't really *need* my whole hand up there. But at least we're sure there's no clotting!"
And on the upside, I never had that horribly heavy, horror-movie-esque bleeding postpartum. In fact, I was completely done, spotting included, at about two weeks postpartum.
7) Your first nurse (I say first, because there might be a shift change while you're in labor) might be a complete douche. Your second nurse might be a complete douche. I wasn't coherent enough at the time (aside from snarling a few mean things) when my first nurse was being horrible to remember that I could request a different nurse. My second nurse was made of sunshine and stardust and was some kind of saint.
8) I had an entire soundtrack set up to listen to while in labor. Music usually helps me be calm and focus-- but I couldn't STAND the sound. I could at some moments, but others, I needed it to be quiet and fast. Other moments, I needed it to be dark. Or cold. Or hot. Or bright. Or... some strange combination of impossible things. The things you might think you want or need, you might end up absolutely hating while you're in labor.
9) This isn't something I didn't know- I was well aware of what I might say or do during labor. You've probably got a pretty good idea that there might be some swearing, some very heart-felt 'i love you's' and... crazy laughter? I burst out laughing a few times. I also randomly started crying. The way that Saint Nurse explained it to me (since again, I had an epidural) was that my body was running a marathon. My hormones were going insane. And so my brain was running through every coping mechanism in the book.
10) There are two things that no one, from what I've understood, is ever ready for. One is how much labor hurts. My epi wore off about as soon as I hit transition. Froggy got his shoulder caught on one side of my pelvis. It hurt worse than anything I can describe to you.
The second thing that you won't be prepared for, or maybe even expect, is the strange feeling you'll have the second they put your baby on your chest. To be deeply personal here, it was suddenly like every bad thing I'd gone through trying to have a child was suddenly worth it. Bub and I lost our first pregnancy- so holding this little, gooey, stinky boy was a miracle beyond description and beyond comprehension. The room can be full of people, your partner or your mom or whomever can be right there at your side, having their own little bubble of bliss-- but all that you'll see for those first few, precious seconds is every dream that you've ever had, come true.
- Loki
Wednesday, December 12, 2012
"But you don't look sick..."
I got this from a site that I adore called but you don't LOOK sick... it's an excellent read for anyone who has or is the partner to someone with an invisible illness-- that means something that makes someone sick, but doesn't have constantly obvious signs (like fibro or lupus). It's a meme that they did for an awareness event and I thought it might be helpful for those of you who *don't* know what's going on with me.
1. The illness I live with is: The first thing people think of as my illness is probably fibromyalgia. I also have a weak immune system, psychogenic non-epilectic seizure disorder and several things that fall onto the mental scale, like Asperger's.
2. I was diagnosed with it in the year: I was diagnosed with having immune problems when I was a small child, I'm not sure of the exact year. I was diagnosed with fibro in my late teens/early twenties. My seizure disorder was diagnosed a few weeks ago.
3. But I had symptoms since: I remember being sick constantly as a child-- with weird, weird things like scarlet fever, german measles, strep and tonsilitis so bad that it turned my tonsils to mush. When I was in my teens is when I first consciously remember my joints starting to ache.
4. The biggest adjustment I’ve had to make is: Realizing and accepting that I have limits and that I have to stick to them.
5. Most people assume: That my symptoms aren't constant and that I get a "break" from being sick. Usually, I don't mention when things are on the smaller scale- when my joints hurt or I'm nauseous, only when things are note-worthy like being hospitalized. I think people kinda figure that I'm only sick when it's bad.
6. The hardest part about mornings are: Getting up by a certain time. Some days, it takes me a few hours before it doesn't hurt too much or before I'm not so nauseous that moving makes me sick. If I have a deadline for when I need to be up by, it can be ridiculously difficult.
7. My favorite medical TV show is: My husband is going to shake his head that I'm not saying Scrubs, but.... House. I love House more than I should.
8. A gadget I couldn’t live without is: My kindle! I inherited it, so it's sort of bittersweet that I have the good fortune to have one, but it makes me feel better when I'm stuck somewhere like the hospital.
9. The hardest part about nights are: Winding down. Insomnia is one of the other things that pesters me (and believe me, it's one of the more minor worries), so getting my body to accept that it's time to sleep is a trick. Thankfully, I take something at night to help me sleep.
10. Each day I take: I take pills roughly 9 times through the day, 10 if you count my vitamin. 11 if you want to count birth control. For the sake of full disclosure, and because I don't think it's a secret to anyone despite my trying to keep it close to the vest, medical cannibis. No comments on my medications, please. Just assume that I'm responsible and that my son's safety is my first concern when medicating, and you'll be right.
11. Regarding alternative treatments I: Please see above. But honestly, if there's something out there that doesn't destroy our livers like vicodine does, and helps to get me through the day by which I mean 'giving me the chance to keep food down, run an errand without collapsing in pain after and being able to be a responsible parent-- yes, I said responsible while talking about cannibis. It's a shocker, but not everyone who uses it uses it for recreational purposes, and medical users CAN be responsible, capable human beings and parents. I will respect your opinion if you don't agree-- please respect mine, too.
12. If I had to choose between an invisible illness or visible I would choose: Invisible, particularly if there's nothing else added to what I already have. I'd rather fight an enemy that I'm familiar with, than something completely new and terrifying.
13. Regarding working and career: I've had to put both of those on hold for the time being. At the moment, getting healthy and taking care of my kid are the two biggest priorities in my life.
14. People would be surprised to know: That how I'm presenting how I feel on the outside is very likely an outright lie. Chances are, I feel like I've run a marathon, want to vomit and have aching joints. But I take *pride* in being able to put on a happy face when I'm not feeling it. Years ago, I wouldn't have ever admitted to anyone how I was really feeling, but in the last few years I've come to terms with knowing that people don't expect me to be upbeat all the time and that asking for help isn't weakness,it's showing that you know there's strength in a pack.
15. The hardest thing to accept about my new reality has been: That I'm not going to get to have more children. Because of the way I scar and how my body responded to being pregnant with Froggy, it's very, very ill advised that I ever carry a child again. There's also the chance of my immune system going crazy and spontaneously ending the pregnancy, which isn't something that I feel I could handle happening again.
16. Something I never thought I could do with my illness that I did was: Give life to such an AMAZING little boy. I thought for a long, long time that I'd never carry a child to term or that if I did, my health would be in extreme peril. As it turned out, I got my shot at the stars. The big dipper looks great.
17. The commercials about my illness: I think there's a commercial for Lyrica that puts Fibro kinda... nicely? It's definitely aimed at the people who already have the illness. But it does try to explain how it effects people who have fibro to those who don't.
18. Something I really miss doing since I was diagnosed is: Oh man... camping. Going places at the drop of a hat. Deciding at 3pm that I'm staying out till 2am and not having to leave my friends to go back to the house and get my meds or cancel last minute. I miss being dependable.
19. It was really hard to have to give up: Being independent. It's been the hardest thing in the world to ask for help. But I'm learning to relax and ask people for the things that I need help with.
20. A new hobby I have taken up since my diagnosis is: Being a paparazzi when it comes to Froggy. That awesome little guy knows what the camera looks like... and gets the most seriously business face as soon as he sees it.
21. If I could have one day of feeling normal again I would: I would take Bub and Froggy fishing in the Grand Tetons. We'd go hiking and then we'd stay up to the wee hours by the campfire, roasting marshmallows and not worrying at all about meds or schedules or pain.
22. My illness has taught me: Who I can really count on. There have been people that I've lost as friends because of being sick. But... like the person who I got this meme from said, if you want to know who your real friends and family are, get sick and see who stays.
23. Want to know a secret? One thing people say that gets under my skin is: When a doctor looks at me and says, "You're too young to have all these things wrong with you. It's all in your head." That's one of the most deeply painful things that I've ever had to hear. And I've heard it with pretty much every new doctor I have to go to.
24. But I love it when people:When people actually help instead of saying that they will, and then doing nothing. Being able to have a clean living room without wrecking myself is heavenly.
25. My favorite motto, scripture, quote that gets me through tough times is: "Never give up, never surrender!" and also "When you're going through hell, keep on going. Don't look back-- if you're scared, don't show it. You might make it out before the Devil even knows you're there."
26. When someone is diagnosed I’d like to tell them: It isn't your fault. You didn't choose to be in pain all the time. People are going to treat you sometimes like you're full of it-- especially with things like fibro and psychogenetic seizures, but politely tell them to shut their mouth if they don't have to deal with chronic illness. You WILL make it through. You might not be 'okay' by the standard definition of the word, but you'll find what counts as 'okay' for you, and those days when you feel that will will be pure magic. Don't give up, don't cop out and don't take the easy road away from your illness. It's better to live in pain than to just give up. And don't feel abnormal if you're depressed-- talk to someone. It's normal to get depressed when you're this sick.
27. Something that has surprised me about living with an illness is: The ignorance of good people. On a positive note, that the strength of others can be relied on when you don't have your own.
28. The nicest thing someone did for me when I wasn’t feeling well was: In regard to the illnesses mentioned here? Two words: Cleaning Fairies. In relation to the worse physical and mental combo of not feeling well? When Stoker and Razz drove down at the drop of a hat after we lost Dahlia.
29. I’m involved with Invisible Illness Week because: I'm several months late for IIW, but I'm still doing by part to educate and spread the word.
30. The fact that you read this list makes me feel: Grateful. Hopeful that you've learned something and understand me a bit better. Cared for, warm and fuzzy.
Love you guys.
The SAHM
Unless you're someone who frequents baby-related forums like I do, chances are you're wondering what 'SAHM' stands for. Unless there's some other thing it's an acronym of, it stands for "Stay At Home Mom". And let me tell you, us sahm's are a fierce bunch-- especially when someone insinuates that we just sit around at home all day. This is coming up because I recently had an (albeit currently without kids) friend ask me why I couldn't hang out more often, or have them over to visit me. When I answered that it was because I usually had a really busy day and my hands were full with Froggy, they gave me a disbelieving look and said "But you just sit around all day. I've seen your house."
So this is a letter to this anonymous friend (who is staying anonmyous unless they decide to 'out' themselves) explaining why, exactly, I don't have time anymore.
Dear Confused Friend,
I know that you go to work. At the end of the day, you come home to your spouse and sometimes get to sit and relax, and sometimes make dinner. A few days later, you get a day off, on which you can lounge around or play video games or do whatever your budgets lets you, really.
Let me start by saying that stay at home moms never get a day off. Ever.
Let that sink in for a minute. Our spouses and partners have days off-- days that they justifiably want to relax. But on those days where they're enjoying relaxing (I'm lucky that on his days off, Bub pitches in hardcore), we're still doing all the things that we've been doing the rest of the week. In fact, make that 'every day, for the last FEW weeks'. We don't get lunch breaks, 15-minute paid time off or often even the chance to take a shower long enough to both shampoo and condition our hair. I can't remember the last time I was able to take a shower that long without having back-up to quiet Froggy when he starts screaming because Mommy is out of his line of sight. Sometimes, I take him in the shower with me-- but then that's filled with trying to wrangle and wash a soapy baby. Or, if he's in his seat just outside the shower doors, it's full of sticking my head out of the open (and drafty) shower door to go 'boogabooga, mommy's still here'. Usually, I find him staring intently into the litter box for some reason and not caring much that I've disappeared. But that's beside the point.
I would love to get the chance to take a long, relaxing bath without *someone* needing *something*direly. But it'll be a while till that happens, I think. It's okay though-- I made the conscious choice to procreate and I'm aware that there are some pretty frustrating and crappy things that go along with having a kid. But again- I digress. My choice to start a family really doesn't have anything to do with your confusion over my 'sitting around'. You're wondering why I can't hang out with you- or even why I might choose to hang out with someone else or go run an errand during my 'free time'.
I have to say it now-- you're pretty selfish, Friend. I adore you, but you've still got your head pretty far up your ass about this specific point. The first thing I do when I wake up to start my day is feed my kid, then (if I have time) grab a snack for myself. Then it's diaper changing, getting dressed (for him, not me. At this point, I'm still wandering around in what I went to sleep in), play time and then an hour or so of fussing for no reason. At this point, it's been about two hours since I got out of bed. What do you do in your first two hours? No, really. I want to know-- I would hate to make an assumption that you sit around and do nothing.
The rest of my day, base, is devoted to making sure that my husband gets to work, the house gets clean, lunch and dinner get made, eaten and put away and that my son is well taken care of. I can't remember the last time that I was able to sit down and draw without being interrupted after a few minutes by a crying, fussing baby or a husband needing me to get/make/assist/advise with something. You mentioned once that Bub could 'do more to help me after he gets off work'. Yes, he could. but when he works from 3p-midnight, like he is the night I'm writing this, I'm pretty much on my own. When he gets home, he wants to sleep. He's a champ and gets up in the morning to help with Froggy, but do YOU really want to come home to have a screaming baby handed to you after that long of a shift? Then there are the times that your spouse will come home from work and you NEED them to take care of the baby-- so they do, but are so tired and frustrated that the baby gets frustrated and just screams. Then, not only do you have a screaming baby, but you also have a spouse who ends up coming to you after an hour (to which you chuckle at the length of time it took) ready to pull out their hair and saying that they need to tap out, because they're strongly considering padding a wicker basket and finding the nearest river.
You also mentioned as your proof that I don't do anything at home that you KNOW I don't, because of the way my house looks. I would like to point you, slightly scathingly, at this: http://www.butyoudontlooksick.com/articles/written-by-christine/the-spoon-theory/
I was most shocked that you called my house into play. You've known me long enough to know about what's not quite right about my health. You've seen, firsthand, days that I've been in too much pain to get out of bed. Or the days that I can't even keep down water-- not because I have the flu, but simply because that's the part of my body that's rebelling today. I do my best to not bring up that I'm sick as a reason for my not being able to do things; the people who are closest to me know that I'd much rather run myself into the ground than ask for help from someone with a busy schedule. It's something I've been working on (asking for assistance when I need it), but seriously? You've known me HOW long and you're pulling my being sick into this?
I'm sorry. I'm more than a little upset with you right now, Friend.
But to get back to the basic point of this: never, ever have the gall to insinuate that my day is spent sitting around doing nothing. If you were to ever flounder like this, don't you think that the first thing I'd do is bring over dinner, pick up the baby and tell you to go do something for YOU? Haven't I don't that for you before, when life was kicking you while you were down? I dare you to ask some other sahm mom that you know (because sorry, I'm both mad and laughing my ass off at you right now) if you can babysit their kids for a whole day, pick up their house and have dinner on the table by the time they're home from work, just so you can see exactly how difficult it is. And before you arrive at whatever early-ass time that that mom asks you to come over I want you to run long enough that your muscles ache, you're mildly nauseous, your body temperature fluctuates, you're bone-weary and in pain. Then, you might get an idea of my general day.
I'm going to wrap this up by saying that as hard as it is, I have an AMAZING support system. Friends like you are few and far between, I'm finding, and I'm happy for that. Most of my friends and family want to help and are HAPPY to do so. I couldn't be more grateful for the things that they've done to help or done just to give me and Bub a break for a while. It all means way more than they'll even know. That help picking up the house, those few hours of babysitting, those are the things that keep me sane and keep me going. I hope that someday when you have kids that you'll feel confidant enough to call me and ask for help. And by the way? I won't say no. I'll say "What time should I come over?".
Please, Friend. Think before you speak next time.
Not as cheerfully as usual,
Loki
So this is a letter to this anonymous friend (who is staying anonmyous unless they decide to 'out' themselves) explaining why, exactly, I don't have time anymore.
Dear Confused Friend,
I know that you go to work. At the end of the day, you come home to your spouse and sometimes get to sit and relax, and sometimes make dinner. A few days later, you get a day off, on which you can lounge around or play video games or do whatever your budgets lets you, really.
Let me start by saying that stay at home moms never get a day off. Ever.
Let that sink in for a minute. Our spouses and partners have days off-- days that they justifiably want to relax. But on those days where they're enjoying relaxing (I'm lucky that on his days off, Bub pitches in hardcore), we're still doing all the things that we've been doing the rest of the week. In fact, make that 'every day, for the last FEW weeks'. We don't get lunch breaks, 15-minute paid time off or often even the chance to take a shower long enough to both shampoo and condition our hair. I can't remember the last time I was able to take a shower that long without having back-up to quiet Froggy when he starts screaming because Mommy is out of his line of sight. Sometimes, I take him in the shower with me-- but then that's filled with trying to wrangle and wash a soapy baby. Or, if he's in his seat just outside the shower doors, it's full of sticking my head out of the open (and drafty) shower door to go 'boogabooga, mommy's still here'. Usually, I find him staring intently into the litter box for some reason and not caring much that I've disappeared. But that's beside the point.
I would love to get the chance to take a long, relaxing bath without *someone* needing *something*direly. But it'll be a while till that happens, I think. It's okay though-- I made the conscious choice to procreate and I'm aware that there are some pretty frustrating and crappy things that go along with having a kid. But again- I digress. My choice to start a family really doesn't have anything to do with your confusion over my 'sitting around'. You're wondering why I can't hang out with you- or even why I might choose to hang out with someone else or go run an errand during my 'free time'.
I have to say it now-- you're pretty selfish, Friend. I adore you, but you've still got your head pretty far up your ass about this specific point. The first thing I do when I wake up to start my day is feed my kid, then (if I have time) grab a snack for myself. Then it's diaper changing, getting dressed (for him, not me. At this point, I'm still wandering around in what I went to sleep in), play time and then an hour or so of fussing for no reason. At this point, it's been about two hours since I got out of bed. What do you do in your first two hours? No, really. I want to know-- I would hate to make an assumption that you sit around and do nothing.
The rest of my day, base, is devoted to making sure that my husband gets to work, the house gets clean, lunch and dinner get made, eaten and put away and that my son is well taken care of. I can't remember the last time that I was able to sit down and draw without being interrupted after a few minutes by a crying, fussing baby or a husband needing me to get/make/assist/advise with something. You mentioned once that Bub could 'do more to help me after he gets off work'. Yes, he could. but when he works from 3p-midnight, like he is the night I'm writing this, I'm pretty much on my own. When he gets home, he wants to sleep. He's a champ and gets up in the morning to help with Froggy, but do YOU really want to come home to have a screaming baby handed to you after that long of a shift? Then there are the times that your spouse will come home from work and you NEED them to take care of the baby-- so they do, but are so tired and frustrated that the baby gets frustrated and just screams. Then, not only do you have a screaming baby, but you also have a spouse who ends up coming to you after an hour (to which you chuckle at the length of time it took) ready to pull out their hair and saying that they need to tap out, because they're strongly considering padding a wicker basket and finding the nearest river.
You also mentioned as your proof that I don't do anything at home that you KNOW I don't, because of the way my house looks. I would like to point you, slightly scathingly, at this: http://www.butyoudontlooksick.com/articles/written-by-christine/the-spoon-theory/
I was most shocked that you called my house into play. You've known me long enough to know about what's not quite right about my health. You've seen, firsthand, days that I've been in too much pain to get out of bed. Or the days that I can't even keep down water-- not because I have the flu, but simply because that's the part of my body that's rebelling today. I do my best to not bring up that I'm sick as a reason for my not being able to do things; the people who are closest to me know that I'd much rather run myself into the ground than ask for help from someone with a busy schedule. It's something I've been working on (asking for assistance when I need it), but seriously? You've known me HOW long and you're pulling my being sick into this?
I'm sorry. I'm more than a little upset with you right now, Friend.
But to get back to the basic point of this: never, ever have the gall to insinuate that my day is spent sitting around doing nothing. If you were to ever flounder like this, don't you think that the first thing I'd do is bring over dinner, pick up the baby and tell you to go do something for YOU? Haven't I don't that for you before, when life was kicking you while you were down? I dare you to ask some other sahm mom that you know (because sorry, I'm both mad and laughing my ass off at you right now) if you can babysit their kids for a whole day, pick up their house and have dinner on the table by the time they're home from work, just so you can see exactly how difficult it is. And before you arrive at whatever early-ass time that that mom asks you to come over I want you to run long enough that your muscles ache, you're mildly nauseous, your body temperature fluctuates, you're bone-weary and in pain. Then, you might get an idea of my general day.
I'm going to wrap this up by saying that as hard as it is, I have an AMAZING support system. Friends like you are few and far between, I'm finding, and I'm happy for that. Most of my friends and family want to help and are HAPPY to do so. I couldn't be more grateful for the things that they've done to help or done just to give me and Bub a break for a while. It all means way more than they'll even know. That help picking up the house, those few hours of babysitting, those are the things that keep me sane and keep me going. I hope that someday when you have kids that you'll feel confidant enough to call me and ask for help. And by the way? I won't say no. I'll say "What time should I come over?".
Please, Friend. Think before you speak next time.
Not as cheerfully as usual,
Loki
Sunday, December 9, 2012
Christmas Wishes
This Christmas, Froggy will be 4 months old. I'm not sure where the time has gone-- it seems like just yesterday that I was holding a stick, strange-smelling newborn. He's giant now, and his doctor says he's a very healthy little dude.
People have been asking what he (also Robby and myself) would like for Christmas. Eli would like the following:
- A bouncy chair or one of those circle-gyms that he can 'stand' in
- More cloth diapers. We use giggle life diapers. You can find them here http://www.alvababy.com/ and here http://www.gigglelife.com/catalog/
- A ring-sling or sling in that style.
- Toys that light up!
- Fun, geeky toys
- Clothes that are 3-6/6-9 month size. He's outgrowing things faster than I can get new ones to fit.
- Teething toys
- Large-sized swaddle pods
- This light: http://www.thinkgeek.com/product/e6cc/
- An amber teething necklace
- Anything home/handmade!!
I'm not entirely sure what I want for Christmas, myself. I love Doctor Who, Big Bang Theory and Elfquest. I also love maple sugar candies, anchovies (seriously, give me anchovies in oil and I'll be happy) and exotic meats. Seriously.
I *have* wanted both Miracle Berry Tablets and a dehydrator (so I can make dried apples and my own jerky) for a while now. I've also started crocheting- non-wool yarn and crochet needles are welcome. And of course, I adore anything home/handmade. Those are some of my favorite gifts.
So, what would YOU like for the holidays?
- Loki
People have been asking what he (also Robby and myself) would like for Christmas. Eli would like the following:
- A bouncy chair or one of those circle-gyms that he can 'stand' in
- More cloth diapers. We use giggle life diapers. You can find them here http://www.alvababy.com/ and here http://www.gigglelife.com/catalog/
- A ring-sling or sling in that style.
- Toys that light up!
- Fun, geeky toys
- Clothes that are 3-6/6-9 month size. He's outgrowing things faster than I can get new ones to fit.
- Teething toys
- Large-sized swaddle pods
- This light: http://www.thinkgeek.com/product/e6cc/
- An amber teething necklace
- Anything home/handmade!!
I'm not entirely sure what I want for Christmas, myself. I love Doctor Who, Big Bang Theory and Elfquest. I also love maple sugar candies, anchovies (seriously, give me anchovies in oil and I'll be happy) and exotic meats. Seriously.
I *have* wanted both Miracle Berry Tablets and a dehydrator (so I can make dried apples and my own jerky) for a while now. I've also started crocheting- non-wool yarn and crochet needles are welcome. And of course, I adore anything home/handmade. Those are some of my favorite gifts.
So, what would YOU like for the holidays?
- Loki
Sunday, December 2, 2012
Wolves and Trees, or How Elfquest Changed my Life
When I was a child-- a tiny, tiny little thing of three -- my mother pulled a colorful comic down off the shelf for me to look at one day, when I was asking for "Book book book!" and wouldn't leave her alone. There were such amazing characters moving across the pages, so much action and color! It was visual heaven to a tiny me. I didn't understand what was going on (after all, what three-year-old understands like sex, war and all the subtle, interwoven complexities that fill the World of Two Moons?), but I knew that I loved it. A week later, I asked my mother for "Puppy book.".
"Puppy book" was, as you might have guessed, Elfquest. Elfquest is the reason that I'm who I am today. No, really. I'm not joking-- if I look back, the things that I found between those pages (some of those things unconventional, but much loved) have shaped my life. The love between partners, the bond between a Wolfrider and his wolf, the sheer love of art and comics that I have now and the idea that family is what you make it-- those are just a few of the things that I took away from the comics. As I grew older, after we went to church on Sundays, we went out looking for Elfquest. My mother called it our "Sunday Quest". We'd go to a rib place called Texas Lucy's, and then as soon as I scarfed my meal down I'd ask to go over to the comic shop next door. I remember the first few times I went in. The owner tried to direct me to things like Marvel and DC. I asked him where the Elfquest was, and I remember him smiling as he led me to a row of longboxes filled with mixed comics. After a few months of Sunday visits, I had a stool waiting for me to sit on as I spent hours looking for those elusive, magical books.
I would spend my afternoons when school let out down in the garden, a bag full of Elfquest at my side, pretending to be a Wolfrider. Now, let me explain the garden-- I was fortunate to grow up in a beautiful area called Rolling Hills. It was a gated community with people like Chuck Norris and Rosanne Barr living there; but the entire place was like a forested getaway. A good portion of the people who lived there owned horses, so horsetrails crisscrossed the entire area. Our garden was no exception, and was certainly not low on the asthetic scale. We had 24 rose bushes (I remember the number, because they were planted in rows of twelve), a peach tree, plum tree, apple tree, apricot tree, two avacado trees, raspberries, blackberries, tangerines... it was a paradise for someone who wanted to escape to a forested paradise. Well... if that forested paradise was like an orchard. But the imagination of a child is a spectacularly powerful thing-- and I'll be damned if that place wasn't Goodtree's Rest.
I know that people will argue that Elfquest isn't exactly a good read for a young child, what with all the adult subject matter. But those who know me know that I was no average kid. I figured out the relationships early on-- my mother delights in telling the story of how one day, I came up to her with Elfquest in hand and demanded to know if Cutter and Skywise were married or not, and if they were, why was Cutter running off the Leetah? After laughing at my complete indignation, she explained to me that sometimes, men love each other. And sometimes, men love women. And in the rare instance, sometimes, a person can love more than just one person, and all three of them love each other. This put the idea into my head that, surprise surprise, love and respect was what mattered-- not gender, sex or the traditional, two-person relationship. However, that's not to say that the "sanctity of marriage" was lost on me; I understood the soul-deep bond of Clearbrook and One-Eye. I understood the childlessness of Redlance and Nightfall.
As a child, I fell in love with it all.
I'm going to skip a bit about now, to the last few years-- and will say, right now, that Wendy Pini is my hero. She's been my inspiration as an artist and storyteller since I was child. Her work is the reason that I picked up a pencil and started to scribble. I also firmly think that she's the reason I'm anal retentive about having well-rounded characters in a well-developed universe, but that's beside the point (and isn't a bad thing at all). Anyhow, one year I was working at Anime Expo in the dealer's hall. I was helping friends of mine with their booth- they sold costumes and runes and such. I was leafing through the program when, to my complete joy, I saw the name "Wendy Pini" written down as someone important who would be attending the convention. So naturally, I scoured the program for where she'd be-- and discovered that she was (as I was reading) sitting down at the booth directly across from mine.
My girlfriend at the time (I don't think we were engaged yet?), a fantastic young woman named Meg, burst into laughter as I suddenly dropped out of site behind my table, suddenly terrified. Here was my idol, sitting right across from me. I needed to do SOMETHNG! I grabbed my sketchbook and -- dressed as Rock Lee, from Naruto, a blindingly green and orange combination -- went to go say hello to Wendy Pini. As it turned out, the autograph session was about to start, and I'd beaten the crowd! I was nervous. Terrified. My heart was beating a thousand miles a minute in my chest, so I did the only thing I could think to do.
As I stepped up to the table... I hid behind my sketchbook. I didn't know what the heck was going to happen. I was, as I though, making a fool of myself. But then, from the other side of my hiding spot, I heard "Why, if it isn't a little green elf!" I peeked over the top and stammered something about my lifelong love of Elfquest and how she was my hero and what was the Masque of the Red Death comic (what she had come to the convention to sign for). Needless to say, it was a fantastic meeting-- I got to meet the one person that I'd said all my life that I wanted to meet AND I found out she had a new comic going! I was thrilled.
Fastforward a few years to the future. I moved down from Belmont to Fullerton, and was now in a relationship with Robby-- someone who would become my husband. We had this secret santa exchange, and one person in our group (for privacy's sake, I'm going to call him Mr. Physics, because he's an absolutely stellar and brilliant physicist) is VERY well known for giving complicated-to-open and/or find gifts. He had drawn me that year, to my joy. I was up for a challenge! I was ready for whatever he was going to throw at me!
I wasn't, however, ready when I opened a hardcover copy of Elfquest. There was an envelope in it, with writing on the outside that I hadn't seen before... or had I? I opened it and read through. Then read through again. Then again. And then shrieked in delight. I may have cried. The note simply read:
"Loki,
Good luck on your Quest!"
- Wendy Pini"
The next week was spent trying to find the rest of my gift (three more hardcover Elfquest compilations and 2 gigs of RAM for my laptop)-- it involved sneaking into the men's locker room at the YMCA to retrieve one out of a friend's locker. It took me to a friend's backyard with a suspicious, angry possum to dig in the middle of the night under a spot marked with "X" to find the last two books. The RAM was inside a Chinese puzzle box that took me all night to figure out. It was the best christmas I've had in a long, long time. I have that note framed on my wall, because heck, who WOULDN'T frame something that cool?
Elfquest is still something that I love, just as strongly, today. I had a little boy three months ago, and I've already started telling him all about the Wolfriders and Trolls, the Sunfolk and the Go-Backs. He falls asleep to the songs that make up the 'soundtrack' of Elfquest-- strangely enough, Winnowill's song puts him right to sleep. And he's much braver than I am-- because Madcoil's song? It's terrifying when distorted over baby monitors. He giggles and coos when I tell him how Cutter and the Wolfriders traveled across the burning hot desert, and how he found Leetah. I tell him about how Skywise will never stop dreaming, how Moonshade's magic is in her sewing, how even silence can sometimes shout the loudest.
I will never stop reading or enjoying Elfquest. I look forward with great, great happiness to the day that I can hold my son in my lap and listen to all the questions that he'll have for me, like I did for my mother. I hope that in sharing it with him, I can teach him all of the love and tolerance that I learned from it. He'll form he own opinions and follow his own path, of course, but I hope that this will help foster a love of comics and art, and teach him about hunting and howling, loving and leaving. He'll learn that nothing lasts on this earth forever, but somewhere just out of our reach, the ones that left us are waiting.
Shade and sweet water, dear reader.
- Loki
"Puppy book" was, as you might have guessed, Elfquest. Elfquest is the reason that I'm who I am today. No, really. I'm not joking-- if I look back, the things that I found between those pages (some of those things unconventional, but much loved) have shaped my life. The love between partners, the bond between a Wolfrider and his wolf, the sheer love of art and comics that I have now and the idea that family is what you make it-- those are just a few of the things that I took away from the comics. As I grew older, after we went to church on Sundays, we went out looking for Elfquest. My mother called it our "Sunday Quest". We'd go to a rib place called Texas Lucy's, and then as soon as I scarfed my meal down I'd ask to go over to the comic shop next door. I remember the first few times I went in. The owner tried to direct me to things like Marvel and DC. I asked him where the Elfquest was, and I remember him smiling as he led me to a row of longboxes filled with mixed comics. After a few months of Sunday visits, I had a stool waiting for me to sit on as I spent hours looking for those elusive, magical books.
I would spend my afternoons when school let out down in the garden, a bag full of Elfquest at my side, pretending to be a Wolfrider. Now, let me explain the garden-- I was fortunate to grow up in a beautiful area called Rolling Hills. It was a gated community with people like Chuck Norris and Rosanne Barr living there; but the entire place was like a forested getaway. A good portion of the people who lived there owned horses, so horsetrails crisscrossed the entire area. Our garden was no exception, and was certainly not low on the asthetic scale. We had 24 rose bushes (I remember the number, because they were planted in rows of twelve), a peach tree, plum tree, apple tree, apricot tree, two avacado trees, raspberries, blackberries, tangerines... it was a paradise for someone who wanted to escape to a forested paradise. Well... if that forested paradise was like an orchard. But the imagination of a child is a spectacularly powerful thing-- and I'll be damned if that place wasn't Goodtree's Rest.
I know that people will argue that Elfquest isn't exactly a good read for a young child, what with all the adult subject matter. But those who know me know that I was no average kid. I figured out the relationships early on-- my mother delights in telling the story of how one day, I came up to her with Elfquest in hand and demanded to know if Cutter and Skywise were married or not, and if they were, why was Cutter running off the Leetah? After laughing at my complete indignation, she explained to me that sometimes, men love each other. And sometimes, men love women. And in the rare instance, sometimes, a person can love more than just one person, and all three of them love each other. This put the idea into my head that, surprise surprise, love and respect was what mattered-- not gender, sex or the traditional, two-person relationship. However, that's not to say that the "sanctity of marriage" was lost on me; I understood the soul-deep bond of Clearbrook and One-Eye. I understood the childlessness of Redlance and Nightfall.
As a child, I fell in love with it all.
I'm going to skip a bit about now, to the last few years-- and will say, right now, that Wendy Pini is my hero. She's been my inspiration as an artist and storyteller since I was child. Her work is the reason that I picked up a pencil and started to scribble. I also firmly think that she's the reason I'm anal retentive about having well-rounded characters in a well-developed universe, but that's beside the point (and isn't a bad thing at all). Anyhow, one year I was working at Anime Expo in the dealer's hall. I was helping friends of mine with their booth- they sold costumes and runes and such. I was leafing through the program when, to my complete joy, I saw the name "Wendy Pini" written down as someone important who would be attending the convention. So naturally, I scoured the program for where she'd be-- and discovered that she was (as I was reading) sitting down at the booth directly across from mine.
My girlfriend at the time (I don't think we were engaged yet?), a fantastic young woman named Meg, burst into laughter as I suddenly dropped out of site behind my table, suddenly terrified. Here was my idol, sitting right across from me. I needed to do SOMETHNG! I grabbed my sketchbook and -- dressed as Rock Lee, from Naruto, a blindingly green and orange combination -- went to go say hello to Wendy Pini. As it turned out, the autograph session was about to start, and I'd beaten the crowd! I was nervous. Terrified. My heart was beating a thousand miles a minute in my chest, so I did the only thing I could think to do.
As I stepped up to the table... I hid behind my sketchbook. I didn't know what the heck was going to happen. I was, as I though, making a fool of myself. But then, from the other side of my hiding spot, I heard "Why, if it isn't a little green elf!" I peeked over the top and stammered something about my lifelong love of Elfquest and how she was my hero and what was the Masque of the Red Death comic (what she had come to the convention to sign for). Needless to say, it was a fantastic meeting-- I got to meet the one person that I'd said all my life that I wanted to meet AND I found out she had a new comic going! I was thrilled.
Fastforward a few years to the future. I moved down from Belmont to Fullerton, and was now in a relationship with Robby-- someone who would become my husband. We had this secret santa exchange, and one person in our group (for privacy's sake, I'm going to call him Mr. Physics, because he's an absolutely stellar and brilliant physicist) is VERY well known for giving complicated-to-open and/or find gifts. He had drawn me that year, to my joy. I was up for a challenge! I was ready for whatever he was going to throw at me!
I wasn't, however, ready when I opened a hardcover copy of Elfquest. There was an envelope in it, with writing on the outside that I hadn't seen before... or had I? I opened it and read through. Then read through again. Then again. And then shrieked in delight. I may have cried. The note simply read:
"Loki,
Good luck on your Quest!"
- Wendy Pini"
The next week was spent trying to find the rest of my gift (three more hardcover Elfquest compilations and 2 gigs of RAM for my laptop)-- it involved sneaking into the men's locker room at the YMCA to retrieve one out of a friend's locker. It took me to a friend's backyard with a suspicious, angry possum to dig in the middle of the night under a spot marked with "X" to find the last two books. The RAM was inside a Chinese puzzle box that took me all night to figure out. It was the best christmas I've had in a long, long time. I have that note framed on my wall, because heck, who WOULDN'T frame something that cool?
Elfquest is still something that I love, just as strongly, today. I had a little boy three months ago, and I've already started telling him all about the Wolfriders and Trolls, the Sunfolk and the Go-Backs. He falls asleep to the songs that make up the 'soundtrack' of Elfquest-- strangely enough, Winnowill's song puts him right to sleep. And he's much braver than I am-- because Madcoil's song? It's terrifying when distorted over baby monitors. He giggles and coos when I tell him how Cutter and the Wolfriders traveled across the burning hot desert, and how he found Leetah. I tell him about how Skywise will never stop dreaming, how Moonshade's magic is in her sewing, how even silence can sometimes shout the loudest.
I will never stop reading or enjoying Elfquest. I look forward with great, great happiness to the day that I can hold my son in my lap and listen to all the questions that he'll have for me, like I did for my mother. I hope that in sharing it with him, I can teach him all of the love and tolerance that I learned from it. He'll form he own opinions and follow his own path, of course, but I hope that this will help foster a love of comics and art, and teach him about hunting and howling, loving and leaving. He'll learn that nothing lasts on this earth forever, but somewhere just out of our reach, the ones that left us are waiting.
Shade and sweet water, dear reader.
- Loki
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
Things that scare me
I've realized that there are several things that scare me about parenthood-- both silly and serious. I thought I'd list them here to share! Feel free to chime in with your own.
1. The way you insist on sleeping in your swing. Normal babies just stay upright. You insist on flopping yourself to the side and curling up in a tiny ball. We gave up trying to straighten you up after two days at home, but I still worry you're going to end up smothering and/or breaking yourself.
2. When a big truck drives by, because it shakes the apartment and makes me think that an earthquake is going to flatten you with something.
3. When I'm changing you and you shoot poop.
4. That you've refused to poop for the last day and a half. Really, honey, I'll take the shooting poop of terror over none at all.
5. When you take a quick pause in your breathing, then start breathing really fast. I know it's normal, but it worries me.
6. The noises you make when you're eating. It sounds like you're some kind of tiny monster.
7. When you bite me when I'm trying to get my nipple back from your alligator-jaws. I end up scared that I'm not going to be getting it back.
8. Putting you into your bassinet without the 'bumpers' that we learned how to make at the hospital. I've seen you. You've been trying like hell to roll over- to the point that you exhaust yourself. I just imagine you rolling in the night and smacking your head on the wood or ending up face-down and smothering. I really worry about your breathing a LOT.
9. That I'm not doing something right, despite all signs pointing that I am.
10. That somehow, I'm going to end up not being there when you need me. Really. This one worries me so much that sometimes, I don't want to leave the room, just so I can be sure that you're still okay. I'm certain that this will fade as I get used to your sounds and spaces of silence and the weird things your little body does.
11. Speaking of things your body does, that tiny erection you got startled the hell out of me. I didn't know babies could get those. You've proven me wrong more than a few times now.
12. That you keep sneezing. I know it's because your nose is tiny and that that's how you clear it- or because there's some new, strange scent in the air, but it still worries me. Clearly, it's the black plague. Clearly.
13. How fiercely I love you scares the crap out of me. It's such a big, big feeling. I'm not used to feelings this big.
14. That I'll drop you. I'm terrified of dropping you. I was told that I'll never drop something I want to hold, but I'm clumsy and you're a squirmer.
15. How you scream bloody murder when we change you sometimes. Half the time, you lay there happily and watch me. The other half, you scream like I'm trying to kill you.
16. That the milk I'm heating up for you will be a bajillion degrees and burn your face off. This won't happen, I know, because your Daddy and I are religious about checking the temperature... but it scares me. The heat, it might be lurking.
17. Your soft spots. I'm afraid to touch them. I don't want to hurt your brain. ;; _ ;;
18. That my bits will never go back to how they were before. Things still feel horribly wrong down there. I'm looking forward to everything feeling normal again.
19. Sometimes, I get scared that the crying will never stop. It usually does once I get you to latch or change your diaper, but when you had that nightmare and woke up screaming in terror, I was petrified that I'd never be able to make you feel better.
20. That I'll do something horribly wrong and mess up beyond repair. I know the best I can do is try, and that's what I'm going to do.
Love you, Treefrog. <3
- Mommy
1. The way you insist on sleeping in your swing. Normal babies just stay upright. You insist on flopping yourself to the side and curling up in a tiny ball. We gave up trying to straighten you up after two days at home, but I still worry you're going to end up smothering and/or breaking yourself.
2. When a big truck drives by, because it shakes the apartment and makes me think that an earthquake is going to flatten you with something.
3. When I'm changing you and you shoot poop.
4. That you've refused to poop for the last day and a half. Really, honey, I'll take the shooting poop of terror over none at all.
5. When you take a quick pause in your breathing, then start breathing really fast. I know it's normal, but it worries me.
6. The noises you make when you're eating. It sounds like you're some kind of tiny monster.
7. When you bite me when I'm trying to get my nipple back from your alligator-jaws. I end up scared that I'm not going to be getting it back.
8. Putting you into your bassinet without the 'bumpers' that we learned how to make at the hospital. I've seen you. You've been trying like hell to roll over- to the point that you exhaust yourself. I just imagine you rolling in the night and smacking your head on the wood or ending up face-down and smothering. I really worry about your breathing a LOT.
9. That I'm not doing something right, despite all signs pointing that I am.
10. That somehow, I'm going to end up not being there when you need me. Really. This one worries me so much that sometimes, I don't want to leave the room, just so I can be sure that you're still okay. I'm certain that this will fade as I get used to your sounds and spaces of silence and the weird things your little body does.
11. Speaking of things your body does, that tiny erection you got startled the hell out of me. I didn't know babies could get those. You've proven me wrong more than a few times now.
12. That you keep sneezing. I know it's because your nose is tiny and that that's how you clear it- or because there's some new, strange scent in the air, but it still worries me. Clearly, it's the black plague. Clearly.
13. How fiercely I love you scares the crap out of me. It's such a big, big feeling. I'm not used to feelings this big.
14. That I'll drop you. I'm terrified of dropping you. I was told that I'll never drop something I want to hold, but I'm clumsy and you're a squirmer.
15. How you scream bloody murder when we change you sometimes. Half the time, you lay there happily and watch me. The other half, you scream like I'm trying to kill you.
16. That the milk I'm heating up for you will be a bajillion degrees and burn your face off. This won't happen, I know, because your Daddy and I are religious about checking the temperature... but it scares me. The heat, it might be lurking.
17. Your soft spots. I'm afraid to touch them. I don't want to hurt your brain. ;; _ ;;
18. That my bits will never go back to how they were before. Things still feel horribly wrong down there. I'm looking forward to everything feeling normal again.
19. Sometimes, I get scared that the crying will never stop. It usually does once I get you to latch or change your diaper, but when you had that nightmare and woke up screaming in terror, I was petrified that I'd never be able to make you feel better.
20. That I'll do something horribly wrong and mess up beyond repair. I know the best I can do is try, and that's what I'm going to do.
Love you, Treefrog. <3
- Mommy
Monday, September 3, 2012
Dr. Bink's Breastfeeding Guide for Beginners
1. Secure howling baby in your arms, then wrestle with as he tries to yank down the front of your shirt. Wonder briefly if he has any idea what the concept of patience is. Decide he doesn't, and attempt to speed efforts to free a boob.
2. Detach baby's mouth from shirt.
3. Pry baby's hand off nipple. Attempt to secure it under your boob. Eventually give up and just let baby flap his free arm around.
4. Wrangle your boob with your free hand, while holding your irate, hungry, mouthing-at-air baby with the other. Attempt to shove boob into baby's open mouth.
5. Repeat step 4 as needed until baby latches on.
6. Gnash teeth in frustration when baby lets go, licks you and falls asleep.
7. Wonder if baby is lying, or if he is actually sleeping. Attempt to move baby into a different position.
8. Realize baby WAS lying.
9. Worry about dropping baby when he launches himself sideways toward your boobs. Repeat steps 3-5.
10. Send praises and burnt offerings to your deity of choice when baby actually nurses. Once finished, burp baby and attempt to interest him in the other boob.
11. Try not to yelp too loudly when baby chomps down to use your sore nipple as a bink.
12. Pry baby off boob.
13. Attempt to soothe irate baby with promises of more nursing later.
14. Twenty minutes after feeding, realize your boob is still hanging out of your shirt. Be thankful noone was home to see, then sit down to relax... while you can.
2. Detach baby's mouth from shirt.
3. Pry baby's hand off nipple. Attempt to secure it under your boob. Eventually give up and just let baby flap his free arm around.
4. Wrangle your boob with your free hand, while holding your irate, hungry, mouthing-at-air baby with the other. Attempt to shove boob into baby's open mouth.
5. Repeat step 4 as needed until baby latches on.
6. Gnash teeth in frustration when baby lets go, licks you and falls asleep.
7. Wonder if baby is lying, or if he is actually sleeping. Attempt to move baby into a different position.
8. Realize baby WAS lying.
9. Worry about dropping baby when he launches himself sideways toward your boobs. Repeat steps 3-5.
10. Send praises and burnt offerings to your deity of choice when baby actually nurses. Once finished, burp baby and attempt to interest him in the other boob.
11. Try not to yelp too loudly when baby chomps down to use your sore nipple as a bink.
12. Pry baby off boob.
13. Attempt to soothe irate baby with promises of more nursing later.
14. Twenty minutes after feeding, realize your boob is still hanging out of your shirt. Be thankful noone was home to see, then sit down to relax... while you can.
To my son
Dear Elijah,
You were born 9 days ago, one of the happiest (and most painful) days of my life. You were a hard pregnancy, and an almost harder labor-- two weeks of early labor, and twenty-two hours of the real thing until I got to hold you, wet and sticky and reeking of something new, on my chest. I would do it all again in a heartbeat, knowing that in the end I get you.
You're sitting in your swing that Nana got you right now, making tiny baby noises while having your (possibly very big) baby dreams. I'm not sure what you're dreaming about- maybe The Boobs? Maybe it's about Mommy and Daddy. I'm sure that we're more than just shapeless pink blobs now that you're starting to open your eyes. And your eyes are marvelous, my boy. Everyone keeps telling me that they're going to change, but I think that they're going to stay the gorgeous slate-grey that they are. I'm not sure where you got that grey from, since Daddy and I both have blue eyes, but it suits you. It goes very well with your full head of blond hair.
I know it annoys you when you're trying to sleep and I keep petting your cheek or fussing with your hair or marveling over how tiny your toes are. But as new as you are to the rest of the world, I've been getting to know you for the last nine months; finally getting to see the little fingers that were poking me or the feet that dislocated my rib? It's amazing. I can't get enough of looking at you, playing with you and holding you. Which is perfectly fine with you-- you seem to prefer being held over anything else. The bassinet is acceptable when you're very, very tired. The swing is okay, most of the time. But being held by Mommy or Daddy? That's the absolute best thing in the world to you, my little Treefrog.
You're wondering, "Why does Mommy call me Treefrog?". When you're curled up against my chest, with your little head tucked under my chin, and your tiny butt planted in my hand, and your feet/legs curled up under you? You look like a treefrog. One of the pretty, sweet green and white ones that I used to have when I was little. We also call you Troll and Monsterman. It makes me happy that you're going to grow up in a house where we have strange endearments like that. I promise to try not to call you these things in front of your friends when you're older, but... I'm not making a guarantee. I might slip up and call you my Monster in front of that cute girl. Or Treefrog in front of the guys. I'm sure I won't be forgiven when I do that... so I'll just abuse the privilege now.
You do such amazing things, Eli. You're advanced in what you've figured out how to do so far. Really advanced. You lift up your head when you're on my chest and look around. You know how to grab your bink and hold it in your mouth. You try to launch yourself sideways to get to The Boobs, which apparently, you're supposed to hold off on doing for another week or so. You're my surprising little boy, and every day is bringing something new and amazing.
And so that I don't forget-- when I went into early labor, there were two earthquakes. Almost 24 hours, exactly, after you were born the earthquake storm started. August is also the month of the Blue Moon. You're full of omens, little boy. I'm hoping they're all good ones.
But to wrap this up (because you're starting to fuss like you need a diaper change), I love you. Your Daddy loves you. The emotion that I have for you is new and deep and terrifying and wonderful. I want to do everything in my power to give you the stars and make your life beautiful. I love you, I love you, I love you. Forever.
- Mommy
You were born 9 days ago, one of the happiest (and most painful) days of my life. You were a hard pregnancy, and an almost harder labor-- two weeks of early labor, and twenty-two hours of the real thing until I got to hold you, wet and sticky and reeking of something new, on my chest. I would do it all again in a heartbeat, knowing that in the end I get you.
You're sitting in your swing that Nana got you right now, making tiny baby noises while having your (possibly very big) baby dreams. I'm not sure what you're dreaming about- maybe The Boobs? Maybe it's about Mommy and Daddy. I'm sure that we're more than just shapeless pink blobs now that you're starting to open your eyes. And your eyes are marvelous, my boy. Everyone keeps telling me that they're going to change, but I think that they're going to stay the gorgeous slate-grey that they are. I'm not sure where you got that grey from, since Daddy and I both have blue eyes, but it suits you. It goes very well with your full head of blond hair.
I know it annoys you when you're trying to sleep and I keep petting your cheek or fussing with your hair or marveling over how tiny your toes are. But as new as you are to the rest of the world, I've been getting to know you for the last nine months; finally getting to see the little fingers that were poking me or the feet that dislocated my rib? It's amazing. I can't get enough of looking at you, playing with you and holding you. Which is perfectly fine with you-- you seem to prefer being held over anything else. The bassinet is acceptable when you're very, very tired. The swing is okay, most of the time. But being held by Mommy or Daddy? That's the absolute best thing in the world to you, my little Treefrog.
You're wondering, "Why does Mommy call me Treefrog?". When you're curled up against my chest, with your little head tucked under my chin, and your tiny butt planted in my hand, and your feet/legs curled up under you? You look like a treefrog. One of the pretty, sweet green and white ones that I used to have when I was little. We also call you Troll and Monsterman. It makes me happy that you're going to grow up in a house where we have strange endearments like that. I promise to try not to call you these things in front of your friends when you're older, but... I'm not making a guarantee. I might slip up and call you my Monster in front of that cute girl. Or Treefrog in front of the guys. I'm sure I won't be forgiven when I do that... so I'll just abuse the privilege now.
You do such amazing things, Eli. You're advanced in what you've figured out how to do so far. Really advanced. You lift up your head when you're on my chest and look around. You know how to grab your bink and hold it in your mouth. You try to launch yourself sideways to get to The Boobs, which apparently, you're supposed to hold off on doing for another week or so. You're my surprising little boy, and every day is bringing something new and amazing.
And so that I don't forget-- when I went into early labor, there were two earthquakes. Almost 24 hours, exactly, after you were born the earthquake storm started. August is also the month of the Blue Moon. You're full of omens, little boy. I'm hoping they're all good ones.
But to wrap this up (because you're starting to fuss like you need a diaper change), I love you. Your Daddy loves you. The emotion that I have for you is new and deep and terrifying and wonderful. I want to do everything in my power to give you the stars and make your life beautiful. I love you, I love you, I love you. Forever.
- Mommy
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
Conforming to gender non-conformity
As many of you know, I have long since been trying to figure out what "box" I belong in when it comes to gender. For a very, very long time I staunchly identified as male. I didn't want anything to do with being female. I didn't want to look it, I loathed the idea that anyone would associate me with anything even vaguely feminine and I went to great lengths to hide that I have female genetics. I found others like me-- people who identified as female-to-male, and found that their community only encouraged my machismo. It wasn't a bad thing-- I needed those years of learning to come to where I am today. But one thing that I had never expected to realize about the ftm community is this:
The majority of people who identify within it are rigid about what defines male and female. Understandably, the men who identify as such try to find and embody the things that make society look at them and think "male". There's nothing at all wrong with this-- but it wasn't something that was good for me. Years late, I've realized that in trying to fit into that community, I embedded the idea into my head that if I was "girly" at all, I was doing something terribly, horribly wrong. That I was telling some kind of lie, if I wanted to wear makeup or a skirt. That these feelings weren't something that I, identifying as a man, was supposed to feel or want.
It took meeting my husband, I think, to get my mind to accept that it's perfectly alright to not feel completely male--- or completely female. Some people fall into a grey area, where neither of those words work for them. Neither of those words fits me. Trying to use just one to describe myself is like wearing clothes three sizes too small, your shoes on the wrong feet and someone else's glasses. With encouragement from those who love me, I'm come to accept myself for who I am-- someone without a definition. I no longer cringe and feel sick when someone refers to me as 'she' or kick myself for days when I want to wear something designated as women's clothing. I've come to a sort of agreement with myself that clothing is non-gendered. Makeup might mean that I look feminine, but more importantly, it makes me feel like I look good-- and that's something shared across the gender spectrum. Wanting to feel confidant and wanting to feel like oneself looks good.
It's been a struggle, and it still is some days, to accept that I'm just me. I'm a mother and a (as Robby says) a 'wubband', I'm a partner and a lover. I'm a good friend and a pretty decent human being (even if I haven't always been what people would consider a shining example of decency). I'm myself, and for once, that's becoming more and more okay. I've given myself permission, finally, to do the things that feel comfortable-- and if that's wear a skirt and makeup and relish the fact that I'm going to have a little one calling me 'mama', then that's what right for me. Being content with not having a "definition" for themselves isn't something that I think many would be able to do, but with the love that my family and friends give me, knowing that they all love me for who I am and not the words I use to describe myself makes it a whole lot smoother.
The majority of people who identify within it are rigid about what defines male and female. Understandably, the men who identify as such try to find and embody the things that make society look at them and think "male". There's nothing at all wrong with this-- but it wasn't something that was good for me. Years late, I've realized that in trying to fit into that community, I embedded the idea into my head that if I was "girly" at all, I was doing something terribly, horribly wrong. That I was telling some kind of lie, if I wanted to wear makeup or a skirt. That these feelings weren't something that I, identifying as a man, was supposed to feel or want.
It took meeting my husband, I think, to get my mind to accept that it's perfectly alright to not feel completely male--- or completely female. Some people fall into a grey area, where neither of those words work for them. Neither of those words fits me. Trying to use just one to describe myself is like wearing clothes three sizes too small, your shoes on the wrong feet and someone else's glasses. With encouragement from those who love me, I'm come to accept myself for who I am-- someone without a definition. I no longer cringe and feel sick when someone refers to me as 'she' or kick myself for days when I want to wear something designated as women's clothing. I've come to a sort of agreement with myself that clothing is non-gendered. Makeup might mean that I look feminine, but more importantly, it makes me feel like I look good-- and that's something shared across the gender spectrum. Wanting to feel confidant and wanting to feel like oneself looks good.
It's been a struggle, and it still is some days, to accept that I'm just me. I'm a mother and a (as Robby says) a 'wubband', I'm a partner and a lover. I'm a good friend and a pretty decent human being (even if I haven't always been what people would consider a shining example of decency). I'm myself, and for once, that's becoming more and more okay. I've given myself permission, finally, to do the things that feel comfortable-- and if that's wear a skirt and makeup and relish the fact that I'm going to have a little one calling me 'mama', then that's what right for me. Being content with not having a "definition" for themselves isn't something that I think many would be able to do, but with the love that my family and friends give me, knowing that they all love me for who I am and not the words I use to describe myself makes it a whole lot smoother.
Sunday, July 8, 2012
Prompts
This entry may (or may not) be entirely baby related. I'm not exactly sure at the moment. I have this list of journal prompts you see-- there are 729 of them. I'm using a random number generator tonight, and picking some of them, writing as much or a little about them as I can/feel the need and then moving on to the next. I have no idea what prompts I'll get-- but this might give you some insight into me.
#167. What are a few qualities you dislike in other people, and why?
Rudeness. I can't stand it when people are rude to others or don't use basic manners. Saying 'please' and 'thank you', 'ma'am' and 'sir' were just par for the course when I was growing up. It was simply something that you said. You thank your host, you say 'excuse me' when you pass someone. You smile and nod to the person you pass on the sidewalk.
Arrogance and entitlement. I know that I'm proud of the things I've accomplished. I detest arrogance and entitlement as traits in myself, and strive to avoid them-- you know what they say. The traits that you dislike in others are really things that you dislike in yourself. Knowing this, I can do my best to avoid them. But in others, I have no control over how they act or present themselves. The people who think that they deserve something, simply because another has it, or because it was given to their siblings make me cringe. Especially when the thing they think they deserve is for another to spend money on them; I have people (wonderful, amazing people) who make it possible for Robby and I to exist financially. I remind myself, whenever they help us, that I need to remember to be grateful for what they've given me-- I didn't earn the money that they spent on me and they chose (out of sheer love) to use that money to help me. Time is interchangeable with the word 'money', too, in that sentence. When people come out of their way, or make a special trip just to see me, it means the world to me. It means that they feel I'm deserving of their attention and affection. Of their time that they could've spent doing something else.
#345. How did your parents meet?
I have no idea. All I know to be truth about them is that they were married above a voodoo shop, worked as a bounty hunter/assistant pair and did a number of unsavory things while they were together.
#45. Where would you travel, if you could go anywhere?
If I could go anywhere, I would go everywhere. But if I had to pick a specific place to go (and it was guarenteed that Robby would enjoy it, too), I would honestly go to Japan and spend a few months there just seeing everything/every place that I've always wanted to see. I'll go to Harujuku. We'll stay in an old-fashioned inn with a hot spring. We'll GO to an onsen and a bath house. We can explore Tokyo and be afraid to go to the top of the Tokyo Tower. We can find all the places that we've wanted to see, go to the festivals and conventions that we've wanted to go to and just... have an adventure.
#173. What is your favorite lie to tell?
"I'm okay, no worries."
#242. If you could be any color, what would you be and why?
I would be iridescent. It's not just one color, but many of them, shimmering and changing. I could be anything from red to purple to orange to pink to white to... to any color you could imagine. Why? Because being just one thing has never been something that fit me. I need the freedom to change when I want to and to shift with the world as I feel the urge. There's no way to explain exactly why I'd be iridescent. But I would be, because it feels right.
And if not iridescent, then the colors that my synesthesia gives me during certain songs. I'm not sure which I'd pick and there REALLY isn't a way to describe them... but it would be fantastic.
And that's the end of this for tonight. I don't want to just start free-writing, but my brain isn't keeping up with long-track thoughts. Maybe it's time to sleep.
- Loki
#167. What are a few qualities you dislike in other people, and why?
Rudeness. I can't stand it when people are rude to others or don't use basic manners. Saying 'please' and 'thank you', 'ma'am' and 'sir' were just par for the course when I was growing up. It was simply something that you said. You thank your host, you say 'excuse me' when you pass someone. You smile and nod to the person you pass on the sidewalk.
Arrogance and entitlement. I know that I'm proud of the things I've accomplished. I detest arrogance and entitlement as traits in myself, and strive to avoid them-- you know what they say. The traits that you dislike in others are really things that you dislike in yourself. Knowing this, I can do my best to avoid them. But in others, I have no control over how they act or present themselves. The people who think that they deserve something, simply because another has it, or because it was given to their siblings make me cringe. Especially when the thing they think they deserve is for another to spend money on them; I have people (wonderful, amazing people) who make it possible for Robby and I to exist financially. I remind myself, whenever they help us, that I need to remember to be grateful for what they've given me-- I didn't earn the money that they spent on me and they chose (out of sheer love) to use that money to help me. Time is interchangeable with the word 'money', too, in that sentence. When people come out of their way, or make a special trip just to see me, it means the world to me. It means that they feel I'm deserving of their attention and affection. Of their time that they could've spent doing something else.
#345. How did your parents meet?
I have no idea. All I know to be truth about them is that they were married above a voodoo shop, worked as a bounty hunter/assistant pair and did a number of unsavory things while they were together.
#45. Where would you travel, if you could go anywhere?
If I could go anywhere, I would go everywhere. But if I had to pick a specific place to go (and it was guarenteed that Robby would enjoy it, too), I would honestly go to Japan and spend a few months there just seeing everything/every place that I've always wanted to see. I'll go to Harujuku. We'll stay in an old-fashioned inn with a hot spring. We'll GO to an onsen and a bath house. We can explore Tokyo and be afraid to go to the top of the Tokyo Tower. We can find all the places that we've wanted to see, go to the festivals and conventions that we've wanted to go to and just... have an adventure.
#173. What is your favorite lie to tell?
"I'm okay, no worries."
#242. If you could be any color, what would you be and why?
I would be iridescent. It's not just one color, but many of them, shimmering and changing. I could be anything from red to purple to orange to pink to white to... to any color you could imagine. Why? Because being just one thing has never been something that fit me. I need the freedom to change when I want to and to shift with the world as I feel the urge. There's no way to explain exactly why I'd be iridescent. But I would be, because it feels right.
And if not iridescent, then the colors that my synesthesia gives me during certain songs. I'm not sure which I'd pick and there REALLY isn't a way to describe them... but it would be fantastic.
And that's the end of this for tonight. I don't want to just start free-writing, but my brain isn't keeping up with long-track thoughts. Maybe it's time to sleep.
- Loki
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
Inside the red tent
There's a book that I'd recommend to anyone who enjoys reading and who wonders about some of the mysterious things that women do that seem like magic-- "The Red Tent", by Anita Diamant. It's Biblical fiction, which is sort of like historical fiction but involves either a religious bent or the people/characters (however you'd like to phrase it, I mean no insult) in the Bible. The story focuses on the wives and daughter of Jacob and the mysterious ties that women have to each other. The red tent referenced in the title is where the women go during their cycle, during childbirth/recovery, sickness... all the "mysterious" things. It delves deeply into the connection that women seem to have with each other-- an old, unbreakable bond that's forged from common experience (marriage, children, loss, etc.) and how powerful that can be.
I bring this up, because in a way, I'm getting to look into the red tent myself. I have never related to women very well. I don't enjoy using the term 'woman' or 'female' to describe myself-- it doesn't feel like it fits. Or even when it does, it fits like a shoe does on the wrong foot. It'll work, but it's not comfortable. But 'mommy'? I can get behind that one.
I've always been the one weirdo who's gone to hang out with the men, who's up to their elbows in an engine while the women are somehow mysteriously entertained, talking among themselves about children and their homes and all the other seemingly strange things that the women talked about. I remember asking the men, once, when I was small what exactly the women were chatting about up on the veranda. I distinctly remember the uncomfortable feeling that passed through the small group of men, the uncertain looks and the general answer of "Oh, you know. Women's things.". It was then that I *knew* there was some mystery that women had- some secret - that I just didn't understand. So I spent my years with the men, learning all the manly things. This isn't to say that I wasn't thoroughly taught how to be a good wife-- in fact, I was taught a little TOO well, if you were to ask my wonderful husband. We have a running joke in the household that I was trained to be a 40's housewife. Which, for those who know about the amazing people that raised me, is pretty much true. And it's also an indication of why my spending so much time with 'the men' was of note-- in the societal structure that I was raised, the women spent time with the women, and the men spent time with the men.
But I digress.
Since finding out about Eli (who seems to know I'm typing about him, kicky little man) and going through the last almost 7 months with this little life inside me, I've felt the beginnings of what I think is that mystery that only women know about. It's strange, suddenly being privy to this thing. To suddenly be able to bond with another human by uttering two words-- "I'm pregnant!". I've gotten looks into people's lives, their hearts-- the very things that make them up. I'm suddenly part of this world where women know all the secrets of making life, of bringing it into the world and of how to deal with the aches, pains and sometimes sadness that comes with it. The world of women is fascinating.
I still feel like a visitor to it, though. I know that I'm going to be a mother, and that feels like the most natural thing in the world to me. I never thought it would be- but it is. But I still seem to be wandering through these mysteries of being female with a guest pass. I don't know if I'll ever understand this innate magic that women seem to have, if I'll ever be able to wrap my brain around this connection that spans generations, decades, eras... but I'm getting to see into the tent, and it's fascinating.
I bring this up, because in a way, I'm getting to look into the red tent myself. I have never related to women very well. I don't enjoy using the term 'woman' or 'female' to describe myself-- it doesn't feel like it fits. Or even when it does, it fits like a shoe does on the wrong foot. It'll work, but it's not comfortable. But 'mommy'? I can get behind that one.
I've always been the one weirdo who's gone to hang out with the men, who's up to their elbows in an engine while the women are somehow mysteriously entertained, talking among themselves about children and their homes and all the other seemingly strange things that the women talked about. I remember asking the men, once, when I was small what exactly the women were chatting about up on the veranda. I distinctly remember the uncomfortable feeling that passed through the small group of men, the uncertain looks and the general answer of "Oh, you know. Women's things.". It was then that I *knew* there was some mystery that women had- some secret - that I just didn't understand. So I spent my years with the men, learning all the manly things. This isn't to say that I wasn't thoroughly taught how to be a good wife-- in fact, I was taught a little TOO well, if you were to ask my wonderful husband. We have a running joke in the household that I was trained to be a 40's housewife. Which, for those who know about the amazing people that raised me, is pretty much true. And it's also an indication of why my spending so much time with 'the men' was of note-- in the societal structure that I was raised, the women spent time with the women, and the men spent time with the men.
But I digress.
Since finding out about Eli (who seems to know I'm typing about him, kicky little man) and going through the last almost 7 months with this little life inside me, I've felt the beginnings of what I think is that mystery that only women know about. It's strange, suddenly being privy to this thing. To suddenly be able to bond with another human by uttering two words-- "I'm pregnant!". I've gotten looks into people's lives, their hearts-- the very things that make them up. I'm suddenly part of this world where women know all the secrets of making life, of bringing it into the world and of how to deal with the aches, pains and sometimes sadness that comes with it. The world of women is fascinating.
I still feel like a visitor to it, though. I know that I'm going to be a mother, and that feels like the most natural thing in the world to me. I never thought it would be- but it is. But I still seem to be wandering through these mysteries of being female with a guest pass. I don't know if I'll ever understand this innate magic that women seem to have, if I'll ever be able to wrap my brain around this connection that spans generations, decades, eras... but I'm getting to see into the tent, and it's fascinating.
Saturday, May 26, 2012
Lessons
I've been thinking a lot about the things that I'm going to teach Elijah as he grows up-- not everything, of course, because some things I believe need to be learned for oneself (for example, that the stove is hot). But there are certain things that I want to be sure that he knows, especially as a little one.
1. No matter how old a person is, remember to be polite. It doesn't matter if they're making you angry, if they're 'like a bajillion' or are just a baby, be polite. People will remember your words and your actions.
2. Take care of those who are smaller than you. If you're the littlest, then take care of the Neverbugs.
3. When you're old enough to have a girlfriend (because I'm going to assume you will at some point or another), treat her like a person. Then a princess, then a goddess. And then like a person again.
4. Never throw the first punch. There are better ways to solve your problems.
5. Remember to read equal parts Elfquest and Shakespeare.
6. Don't assume that a person is what they look like. I rarely am, and I'm your mommy.
7. Listen to Beethoven.
8. Listen to AC/DC, Metallica, Garth Brooks, Miracle of Sound, The King Singers and all the other music, too.
9. Don't deem something unpalatable until you've taken at least two bites. Anything less than that is an insult to the food.
10. If you're in someone else's home, and they cook for you, if you're not allergic-- you eat it. Do not insult the host or hostess.
11. Other people's homes and belongings are to be treated with respect. If you wouldn't do it in a church, don't do it in someone else's home (until invited).
12. If you play a prank, you run the risk of getting caught. Accept this.
13. Don't get caught.
14. Wherever we all came from, whatever we believe in, we're all sharing the same planet. Never ever forget, my dear one, that just because you don't agree with someone doesn't make what they believe in any less valid.
15. We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful who we pretend to be.
16. Clothing has no gender. Yes, dresses DO tend to look better on women, but that doesn't mean that someday when you understand social implication that you can't wear them.
17. If your Opa makes it long enough to tell you stories, listen.
18. No matter how many people you call 'Mom' or 'Dad' over the years, never forget the ones who mushed together your genetics or how much we love you.
19. Don't hate the color pink.
20. Don't be afraid to admit that you don't know an answer. That's how we learn.
21. Never apologize for being sick or being sad.
22. Love comes in all shapes, sizes, colors and pairings. Remember that no matter what's on the outside, underneath it is still love.
23. If you want to know why someone thinks the way they do, ask them. Most people would rather explain their point of view more clearly than have someone assume all the wrong things about it.
24. We love you.
25. The animal who's been working alongside you gets food and water first. You can wait ten minutes while you give your dog dishes of food and water.
26. Treat all living things with respect. This isn't to say that you shouldn't eat meat or pick flowers-- but do it with respect. If you decide to be a hunter someday, don't kill more than you need.
27. You can never read too much.
28. The vast majority of people in the world won't understand or agree with you. That's okay.
29. We're all mad here.
30. Family, whether blood or not, is the most priceless treasure there is. Remember that gold can tarnish and jewels can crack, but it can be cleaned up and fixed. Never give up on your family.
1. No matter how old a person is, remember to be polite. It doesn't matter if they're making you angry, if they're 'like a bajillion' or are just a baby, be polite. People will remember your words and your actions.
2. Take care of those who are smaller than you. If you're the littlest, then take care of the Neverbugs.
3. When you're old enough to have a girlfriend (because I'm going to assume you will at some point or another), treat her like a person. Then a princess, then a goddess. And then like a person again.
4. Never throw the first punch. There are better ways to solve your problems.
5. Remember to read equal parts Elfquest and Shakespeare.
6. Don't assume that a person is what they look like. I rarely am, and I'm your mommy.
7. Listen to Beethoven.
8. Listen to AC/DC, Metallica, Garth Brooks, Miracle of Sound, The King Singers and all the other music, too.
9. Don't deem something unpalatable until you've taken at least two bites. Anything less than that is an insult to the food.
10. If you're in someone else's home, and they cook for you, if you're not allergic-- you eat it. Do not insult the host or hostess.
11. Other people's homes and belongings are to be treated with respect. If you wouldn't do it in a church, don't do it in someone else's home (until invited).
12. If you play a prank, you run the risk of getting caught. Accept this.
13. Don't get caught.
14. Wherever we all came from, whatever we believe in, we're all sharing the same planet. Never ever forget, my dear one, that just because you don't agree with someone doesn't make what they believe in any less valid.
15. We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful who we pretend to be.
16. Clothing has no gender. Yes, dresses DO tend to look better on women, but that doesn't mean that someday when you understand social implication that you can't wear them.
17. If your Opa makes it long enough to tell you stories, listen.
18. No matter how many people you call 'Mom' or 'Dad' over the years, never forget the ones who mushed together your genetics or how much we love you.
19. Don't hate the color pink.
20. Don't be afraid to admit that you don't know an answer. That's how we learn.
21. Never apologize for being sick or being sad.
22. Love comes in all shapes, sizes, colors and pairings. Remember that no matter what's on the outside, underneath it is still love.
23. If you want to know why someone thinks the way they do, ask them. Most people would rather explain their point of view more clearly than have someone assume all the wrong things about it.
24. We love you.
25. The animal who's been working alongside you gets food and water first. You can wait ten minutes while you give your dog dishes of food and water.
26. Treat all living things with respect. This isn't to say that you shouldn't eat meat or pick flowers-- but do it with respect. If you decide to be a hunter someday, don't kill more than you need.
27. You can never read too much.
28. The vast majority of people in the world won't understand or agree with you. That's okay.
29. We're all mad here.
30. Family, whether blood or not, is the most priceless treasure there is. Remember that gold can tarnish and jewels can crack, but it can be cleaned up and fixed. Never give up on your family.
Sunday, May 20, 2012
Kitten Season
May is in its swing into June, and while the beginning had already passed, I consider this time to be "kitten season". What is that, you ask? It's the time of the year when queens have a higher incident of pregnancy and/or birth. There are countless cats out there who are running around unspayed and unneutered, bringing kittens into the world. A majority of these are feral cats-- if you're interested in helping them, look into a feral colony rescue near you. These people help maintain population and health in feral colonies.
But what really started this (very poorly organized) entry is that I once again overheard someone asking if they could feed the 'three week old kitten they got from their uncle cat food yet.'. I nearly strangled them. Instead, I sort of played a game of "I work here", and explained to them the things needed to care for a kitten that young, and scolded them (with barbed politeness) for seperating it from its mother. I made sure they had at least a can of liquid formula and a can of powdered, plus a bottle in their basket when they left. I told them all about pottying kittens and their need to be warm before you feed. And that kittens are NOT human babies, and do NOT eat on their damn backs.
I want to make a user-friendly, easy-to-understand guide of what to do if you find a young kitten, pregnant or injured cat, or even just your friendly, neighborhood stray who needs a good 'snipsnip'. Good project? Yes? No?
Would you like to input? I only want serious replies to this question. Please demonstrate to me that you know your shit about cats, if I don't know you personally (and therefore would already know if you're not just shooting in the dark).
I'm going to go collapse in bed now, in prepration for ren faire tomorrow.
Eli says: *kickkickkickkickkickkick* *FLIP* *hiccup*
I swear, this kid does kickboxing for an hour and then hiccups all night like a drunk sailor. -_-
- Loki
(I love you, baby boy, always.)
But what really started this (very poorly organized) entry is that I once again overheard someone asking if they could feed the 'three week old kitten they got from their uncle cat food yet.'. I nearly strangled them. Instead, I sort of played a game of "I work here", and explained to them the things needed to care for a kitten that young, and scolded them (with barbed politeness) for seperating it from its mother. I made sure they had at least a can of liquid formula and a can of powdered, plus a bottle in their basket when they left. I told them all about pottying kittens and their need to be warm before you feed. And that kittens are NOT human babies, and do NOT eat on their damn backs.
I want to make a user-friendly, easy-to-understand guide of what to do if you find a young kitten, pregnant or injured cat, or even just your friendly, neighborhood stray who needs a good 'snipsnip'. Good project? Yes? No?
Would you like to input? I only want serious replies to this question. Please demonstrate to me that you know your shit about cats, if I don't know you personally (and therefore would already know if you're not just shooting in the dark).
I'm going to go collapse in bed now, in prepration for ren faire tomorrow.
Eli says: *kickkickkickkickkickkick* *FLIP* *hiccup*
I swear, this kid does kickboxing for an hour and then hiccups all night like a drunk sailor. -_-
- Loki
(I love you, baby boy, always.)
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
Confessions of a Pregnant Seahorse
I should really write a book titled that. It could be very, very entertaining. On one of the forums I frequent, there have been lots of 'confession' posts-- basically, stuff that you normally wouldn't do/mention while pregnant that you confess. I'm not entirely behind this notion, mostly because to confess something would imply that I felt guilty about doing it. And I really don't feel guilty for the things I choose/have chosen to do. So... I'm just going to make a list of STUFF. Again. Because I really enjoy making lists.
- I'm tired of people asking me if I'm SURE my due date is Sept. 14. Yeah, I'm pretty sure. With all the ultrasounds and measurements this kid has had, I'm certain the doctors are sure, too.
- Oh gosh, I'm drinking a Pepsi. Call the police. The SWAT team. Inform the mayor! Do you know how much caffeine I would need to consume on a daily basis to cause damage to Eli? Somewhere around three pots of strong, black coffee. A Pepsi or two isn't the end of the world. Gtfo.
- I'm going to eat sushi. If you'd really like to know, it's all cooked seafood.
- If you're going to assume that I'm 16, slutty and pouring my life down the drain then I'm going to assume that you're an old biddy with too many cats who spends the day watching the Hallmark channel and eating five-year-old bonbons.
- Who the heck asks someone if their pregnancy was planned? Unless you're a close friend of mine, you really don't need to know. If you insist, I suppose I could give you five more reasons to cease and desist-- they'll just be curled into a fist.
- When has social convention in America ever hinted that it was okay to ask a person about their weight, comment on their size or anything of that sort? Why on earth is it suddenly okay to be telling me how small I look? Or how big?
- I wake up in the morning and look in the mirror and think "Yep. I look fat. I'm swollen, covered in stretch marks and acne, have developed a pelt on my stomach and I feel like I've been running marathons instead of sleeping.". When you tell me that I'm 'glowing' or that I look amazing, and I look at you like you're insane, just remind me that even though I can't see that I'm changing in a good way, that I truly am. Tell me that I'm just the right size and that I'm doing things right.
- On that note, don't be surprised if I still don't believe you.
- I haven't been able to see to 'groom' for at least two weeks now. Summer is coming, and bathing suits might happen... This scares me.
- My husband and I will name our child whatever the heck we want to. If we don't want to use a family name, then we're not going to. You didn't offer any assistance when I asked you to help me name my pets, stop trying to help name my child.
- Yes, I had hopes for a specific sex for the baby. Does it break my heart that he's a boy? Nope. Why? Because he's still my kid, and in the end (this always makes the doctors laugh) I honestly just want a tiny, screaming human with all the parts in the right places.
- I'm terrified I won't have that instant bond with my son when he comes out.
- My pets are going nowhere. When you had your second child, and your first threw a fit about it for months on end, did you ever consider sending him away? Suggesting I do that with my animals is like suggesting that to you.
- Yes, I have to pee again, honey. Please stop pointing it out.
Yes, I waddle when I walk, honey. Please stop pointing it out.
Yes, I eat strange things, honey. Please stop pointing it out.
- Just because I'm feeling sexy, doesn't mean I want sex.
- Just because I'm not feeling sexy, doesn't mean I don't want sex.
- I enjoy having my stomach touched! I do not like having my stomach molested. On that note, sweet older lady at Target, I'm really sorry for grabbing your wrist like that when you tried to pat the belly. You're a stranger, and you didn't ask. I don't like it when my friends don't ask, it wasn't okay for you. But I'm still sorry for scaring you.
- I'm tired of people asking me if I'm SURE my due date is Sept. 14. Yeah, I'm pretty sure. With all the ultrasounds and measurements this kid has had, I'm certain the doctors are sure, too.
- Oh gosh, I'm drinking a Pepsi. Call the police. The SWAT team. Inform the mayor! Do you know how much caffeine I would need to consume on a daily basis to cause damage to Eli? Somewhere around three pots of strong, black coffee. A Pepsi or two isn't the end of the world. Gtfo.
- I'm going to eat sushi. If you'd really like to know, it's all cooked seafood.
- If you're going to assume that I'm 16, slutty and pouring my life down the drain then I'm going to assume that you're an old biddy with too many cats who spends the day watching the Hallmark channel and eating five-year-old bonbons.
- Who the heck asks someone if their pregnancy was planned? Unless you're a close friend of mine, you really don't need to know. If you insist, I suppose I could give you five more reasons to cease and desist-- they'll just be curled into a fist.
- When has social convention in America ever hinted that it was okay to ask a person about their weight, comment on their size or anything of that sort? Why on earth is it suddenly okay to be telling me how small I look? Or how big?
- I wake up in the morning and look in the mirror and think "Yep. I look fat. I'm swollen, covered in stretch marks and acne, have developed a pelt on my stomach and I feel like I've been running marathons instead of sleeping.". When you tell me that I'm 'glowing' or that I look amazing, and I look at you like you're insane, just remind me that even though I can't see that I'm changing in a good way, that I truly am. Tell me that I'm just the right size and that I'm doing things right.
- On that note, don't be surprised if I still don't believe you.
- I haven't been able to see to 'groom' for at least two weeks now. Summer is coming, and bathing suits might happen... This scares me.
- My husband and I will name our child whatever the heck we want to. If we don't want to use a family name, then we're not going to. You didn't offer any assistance when I asked you to help me name my pets, stop trying to help name my child.
- Yes, I had hopes for a specific sex for the baby. Does it break my heart that he's a boy? Nope. Why? Because he's still my kid, and in the end (this always makes the doctors laugh) I honestly just want a tiny, screaming human with all the parts in the right places.
- I'm terrified I won't have that instant bond with my son when he comes out.
- My pets are going nowhere. When you had your second child, and your first threw a fit about it for months on end, did you ever consider sending him away? Suggesting I do that with my animals is like suggesting that to you.
- Yes, I have to pee again, honey. Please stop pointing it out.
Yes, I waddle when I walk, honey. Please stop pointing it out.
Yes, I eat strange things, honey. Please stop pointing it out.
- Just because I'm feeling sexy, doesn't mean I want sex.
- Just because I'm not feeling sexy, doesn't mean I don't want sex.
- I enjoy having my stomach touched! I do not like having my stomach molested. On that note, sweet older lady at Target, I'm really sorry for grabbing your wrist like that when you tried to pat the belly. You're a stranger, and you didn't ask. I don't like it when my friends don't ask, it wasn't okay for you. But I'm still sorry for scaring you.
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
Scars
"Scars remind us where we've been. They don't have to dictate where we're going."
- Criminal Minds
I've been thinking a lot about scars, recently. Emotional and physical-- I have them both. My son is going to look at me one day, sweet and innocent and simply not knowing how the world can be and will ask me "Mommy, why are your arms hurt? Where did those scars come from?"
I'll have to answer him, because I can't keep that huge chapter of my life from my child. It wouldn't be right. I've been trying to figure out what I'm going to say-- and I know that I have years to think about it -- but this is the gist of what I've come up with for now:
"When I was a teenager, things were very, very difficult for myself and your grandma. Grandma had some problems that she's taken care of now-- remember how we celebrate two birthdays for grandma every year? It's because we're celebrating her getting through all of those bad, hard things. But because those things happened, mommy got hurt. At first, it was just hurting on the inside, but I didn't have anyone to talk to about what hurt so badly, so I found a different way to handle it. Instead of talking to a grown-up, I hurt myself very badly and had to go to a special hospital for a long time.
Nobody was mad at me for doing it. Everyone was very, very sad in fact. But because I tried to hurt myself so badly, I have these marks/scars. Now, I talk to daddy or auntie when I feel that badly, so that I don't feel like I have to do something like that again. Nobody gets upset when I talk to them about how I'm feeling, they always help and they never tell me I'm being bad for thinking that way, and no one in this family will EVER be mad at you if you need to talk to them about how you're feeling."
I realize, too, that I'm going to have to explain my emotional scars sooner. I wake up screaming from nightmares and flashbacks. One day, I'm going to have to tell my baby that the monsters that mommy thinks she sees at night aren't real anymore, but sometimes, they seem very, very real and when mommy's dreaming, her brain doesn't know that they aren't.
I'm honestly very scared to explain that one to my child. When he's older and able to understand what "a bad man hurt mommy" means, I'll tell him the full story. As it is, I intend on telling him about his two siblings who are looking out for him from heaven-- and I intend on telling him that his daddy is not daddy for both of them. I'm also going to tell him-- I'm going to be so sure to tell him -- that even though a bad, bad person was #1's father, that I now love that little angel as much as I love Dahlia, and I talk to him/her just like I do his sister.
Physical scars are a book that others can look at and try to read. Emotional scars are the drawings in the margin that only *you* know what they are.
- Loki
- Criminal Minds
I've been thinking a lot about scars, recently. Emotional and physical-- I have them both. My son is going to look at me one day, sweet and innocent and simply not knowing how the world can be and will ask me "Mommy, why are your arms hurt? Where did those scars come from?"
I'll have to answer him, because I can't keep that huge chapter of my life from my child. It wouldn't be right. I've been trying to figure out what I'm going to say-- and I know that I have years to think about it -- but this is the gist of what I've come up with for now:
"When I was a teenager, things were very, very difficult for myself and your grandma. Grandma had some problems that she's taken care of now-- remember how we celebrate two birthdays for grandma every year? It's because we're celebrating her getting through all of those bad, hard things. But because those things happened, mommy got hurt. At first, it was just hurting on the inside, but I didn't have anyone to talk to about what hurt so badly, so I found a different way to handle it. Instead of talking to a grown-up, I hurt myself very badly and had to go to a special hospital for a long time.
Nobody was mad at me for doing it. Everyone was very, very sad in fact. But because I tried to hurt myself so badly, I have these marks/scars. Now, I talk to daddy or auntie when I feel that badly, so that I don't feel like I have to do something like that again. Nobody gets upset when I talk to them about how I'm feeling, they always help and they never tell me I'm being bad for thinking that way, and no one in this family will EVER be mad at you if you need to talk to them about how you're feeling."
I realize, too, that I'm going to have to explain my emotional scars sooner. I wake up screaming from nightmares and flashbacks. One day, I'm going to have to tell my baby that the monsters that mommy thinks she sees at night aren't real anymore, but sometimes, they seem very, very real and when mommy's dreaming, her brain doesn't know that they aren't.
I'm honestly very scared to explain that one to my child. When he's older and able to understand what "a bad man hurt mommy" means, I'll tell him the full story. As it is, I intend on telling him about his two siblings who are looking out for him from heaven-- and I intend on telling him that his daddy is not daddy for both of them. I'm also going to tell him-- I'm going to be so sure to tell him -- that even though a bad, bad person was #1's father, that I now love that little angel as much as I love Dahlia, and I talk to him/her just like I do his sister.
Physical scars are a book that others can look at and try to read. Emotional scars are the drawings in the margin that only *you* know what they are.
- Loki
Thursday, May 3, 2012
How my cat has prepared me for a baby.
I've been reading about what to expect from babies and young children, and I keep finding myself thinking "I already do this with my cat. Hm.". It's all very silly stuff...
1) You cannot pee/shower alone.
Lea, my youngest cat, follows me into the shower if she can. If I close the bathroom door, she flings herself at it while howling. Then she jams her paws under it and reaches for me. Before her stroke (more on that next), she used to scale the shower doors and sit there. Watching.
2) Illness, serious or not, is scary.
When we brought Lea home, she had a bad URI and this rancid, watery poop. It was horrific. But I spent the hours giving her Pedialyte, holding her, soothing her and generally making her feel 'all better'.
Last year, this gorgeous kitten had a stroke. She was barely a year old. We didn't expect her to recover- everything we'd heard regarding her recovery was bleak. As it turned out (so you don't worry), she's tenacious and fought her way back to health, and proved us all wrong. I stayed up all night, holding her and just telling her how much I love her. I'd fall asleep with her in my arms. We had to syringe feed, clean her when she messed herself, give her meds... it was emotional and one of the most stressful things we've been through.
3) Waking up every two hours to feed a screaming little one is completely doable.
You might be sleep deprived and forget things, but it's doable. When Pandora (now 12) came to us, she was about 2 weeks old. That meant I got to bottle-feed her every two hours, through the night and day. Not to mention the other things that kittens that little need done for them at that age.
If I can do that at age 12, I can handle it now. It's completely different with a tiny human.
4) What you seem to think is your alone time... isn't.
They're always watching. or trying to climb into your lap. Or begging for your soda, that they don't really want but OMGNEED because it's yours.
5) Your food is no longer your food.
Instead, it is a bite of chicken for you and most of the broccoli, but the rest gets snarked by a whining kitten.
6) 'Up-ups' are a normal part of your day.
Lea is trained to ask for up-ups. She comes to me, sits pretty and says "skeek?", then hops onto her back legs and streeeeetches up. I lean down, she hooks her front paws over my shoulder, and the up-ups are completed. : )
7) If I can train a cat, I can teach my child.
My cats current tricks?
Lea- 'back up', stay, get it!, settle/lie down, and "happy kitty".
Pandora- sit, stay, lie down, down, leave it, get it, find it... and the ever important "GET THAT BUG!!"
(I am falling asleep... I'll finish this in the morn~ in the meantime, a picture of my cat.)
Friday, April 27, 2012
You know you're pregnant...
...when you cry over the Ironside Daleks.
... when Criminal Minds reduces you to a crying lump, but you keep watching anyway.
... when every third thing out of your mouth involves progenation.
... when you go out and find the exact RGB hue for the TARDIS so you can get the right color envelopes for your shower invites.
... when you cry when you realize that there aren't ways to buy specifically colored envelopes without spending a gazillion dollars.
... when you set a record at the local IHOP because you inhaled a waffle in under two minutes.
... when you spend all day worrying because the baby is being lazy, you've been crampy and then he punches you hard enough to make your stomach bounce. And then worry more.
Sunday, April 22, 2012
It's a boy!
We went to our big anatomy scan on thursday, and were given the EPIC news that we've got TARDIS blue in our future! Our little guy was a squirmy thing and gave the poor tech a difficult time getting the measurements that she needed. We eventually got everything-- we're still going to be going back in 5ish weeks to check heart and spine, because of my genetic problems.
The only shot he readily gave us was the one of his goods. The scene went like this:
Tech: -putting gel onto my stomach- So, do you know what you're having and do you want to know if you don't?
Us: Yes, yes. We want to know.
Tech: Okay. It might take a little bit to find out, sometimes the baby can be facing the wrong way or not cooperating. Just to forewarn and all.
Me: Okay. (I was prepared for this, since he slept through his first u/s)
Tech: -touches the wand down and immediately gets a splayed-legged picture of our son, junk to the monitor- Wow, um, it's a boy!
Robby: OhmygoshitsaboyImadeaboy
Me: -wide eyed- THAT'S a penis. Wow. Holy... wow, yeah. He's a boy.
Tech: -laughing- He's got really big 'stuff', too.
Me: Haha, honey, he takes after you!
And that was the story of how we found out that we're having a son.
We've already settled on a name (sort of). It may change later, and if we find one that feels like it fits better it may change. But for now, his name is Elijah. I've already been delighting in calling him Eli. <3 We're bouncing around on middle names, but the leader now is Liam. We're also considering Storm, since we've called him Stormageddon for so long.
The only shot he readily gave us was the one of his goods. The scene went like this:
Tech: -putting gel onto my stomach- So, do you know what you're having and do you want to know if you don't?
Us: Yes, yes. We want to know.
Tech: Okay. It might take a little bit to find out, sometimes the baby can be facing the wrong way or not cooperating. Just to forewarn and all.
Me: Okay. (I was prepared for this, since he slept through his first u/s)
Tech: -touches the wand down and immediately gets a splayed-legged picture of our son, junk to the monitor- Wow, um, it's a boy!
Robby: OhmygoshitsaboyImadeaboy
Me: -wide eyed- THAT'S a penis. Wow. Holy... wow, yeah. He's a boy.
Tech: -laughing- He's got really big 'stuff', too.
Me: Haha, honey, he takes after you!
And that was the story of how we found out that we're having a son.
We've already settled on a name (sort of). It may change later, and if we find one that feels like it fits better it may change. But for now, his name is Elijah. I've already been delighting in calling him Eli. <3 We're bouncing around on middle names, but the leader now is Liam. We're also considering Storm, since we've called him Stormageddon for so long.
Wishlist
I'm one of those awesome moms-to-be that thinks handed down items are amazing. I know that a lot of things that are coming for this little one are going to be 'pre-loved'. So, for my own benefit (and anyone who might need a list), I'm going to be starting a list of those goofy things that I want, as opposed to need. The silly onesies, goofy toys, things like that. I'll be updating it periodically.
http://www.thinkgeek.com/geek-kids/bbae/
http://www.punkbabyclothes.net/shop/product_info.php?cPath=21_125_42&products_id=6916
http://www.punkbabyclothes.net/shop/product_info.php?cPath=21_125_42&products_id=10360
http://www.punkbabyclothes.net/shop/product_info.php?cPath=21_125_42&products_id=10124
http://www.punkbabyclothes.net/shop/product_info.php?cPath=21_125_42&products_id=10123
http://www.thinkgeek.com/geek-kids/bbae/
http://www.punkbabyclothes.net/shop/product_info.php?cPath=21_125_42&products_id=6916
http://www.punkbabyclothes.net/shop/product_info.php?cPath=21_125_42&products_id=10360
http://www.punkbabyclothes.net/shop/product_info.php?cPath=21_125_42&products_id=10124
http://www.punkbabyclothes.net/shop/product_info.php?cPath=21_125_42&products_id=10123
Monday, April 16, 2012
ACT nurse visit + movement!
Today was my first visit from the ACT nurse. I'm part of a program that offers free visits from a nurse, in your home during your pregnancy and for (about) two years after your baby is born. They help teach you all the things you need to know, from pregnancy through breastfeeding and then some. I had been part of NFP, which was essentially the lower-level version of the ACT program. They decided to bump me up to the higher, more "qualified to deal with high-risk patients" nurses-- and to be honest, I'm glad they did.
The first lady who visited me from NFP was, in short, awful. She made me feel like everything I do was wrong. Take medication? Wrong. Be open about my past? Scooted to the other end of the couch. We weren't a very good match, to be completely honest.
Jeanette, the new worker who's visiting me, is absolutely amazing. She's managed to make me feel comfortable with pretty much everything. The medication I have to take? Good job, you're thinking about your health! You did XYZ? That's fine, were you safe about it? Overall, I had a great experience with her today.
And now, for something completely AWESOME:
I felt Stormageddon from the outside today! I had felt the little fish kicking in the same spot a few times, and so decided to put my hand on my belly to see if I could, possibly, feel him/her from the outside. The sprog did a full-on somersault and I felt it. It. Was. Amazing.
There isn't much else to update on today. Just anxiously awaiting Thursday, so I'll have a pronoun to use. : )
The first lady who visited me from NFP was, in short, awful. She made me feel like everything I do was wrong. Take medication? Wrong. Be open about my past? Scooted to the other end of the couch. We weren't a very good match, to be completely honest.
Jeanette, the new worker who's visiting me, is absolutely amazing. She's managed to make me feel comfortable with pretty much everything. The medication I have to take? Good job, you're thinking about your health! You did XYZ? That's fine, were you safe about it? Overall, I had a great experience with her today.
And now, for something completely AWESOME:
I felt Stormageddon from the outside today! I had felt the little fish kicking in the same spot a few times, and so decided to put my hand on my belly to see if I could, possibly, feel him/her from the outside. The sprog did a full-on somersault and I felt it. It. Was. Amazing.
There isn't much else to update on today. Just anxiously awaiting Thursday, so I'll have a pronoun to use. : )
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