Monday, December 24, 2012

Warmest Holiday Wishes To All






We never did things like this in my family. Time to create some new traditions.  This is from Macy's downtown Portland. What an awesome Santa. :)  I misted up. I admit it.

Sunday, December 16, 2012

Transitioning into motherhood

We are chillin'
In my twenties, I didn't think I’d ever want kids. I think after a childhood of seeing the perils of dysfunctional family, one grows into one’s youth filled with the sense that you too are going to repeat those mistakes.  But as my thirties dawned, all of a sudden, my priorities changed.  Now, I’m sitting here, with a small baby drifting off to sleep against my leg, after a night of cluster-feeding and crying, and realizing that no matter how difficult it is, I can cope.  I can look at Baby J’s bright little eyes and see what this is all for.  My fears of postpartum depression were unfounded. The anti-depressants prescribed to me just in case were unnecessary.

Baby J turned one month old yesterday. It doesn't feel like a month. That doesn't mean it’s been free sailing, Baby J is a bit of a Crankasaurus Rex.  His pediatrician, Dr. White, a guy who looks far too young to be a doctor, but who has a magic touch with babies, described this first period to me as ‘the fourth trimester’.  “By the size of his hips in proportion to his head, this baby, all babies are technically underdeveloped compared to babies of other species. In all truth, this baby should be gestated another three months. So understanding this, imagine that this child is really not ready for all of this…” he said, twirling his finger around to indicate the world of buzzing fluorescent lights and sirens blaring outside.  The first three months are going to be hard. And having a baby that is inordinately cranky means a little extra work.  Baby J’s most taxing issue is the cluster-feeding. What that means is he wants to eat frequently in spurts.  He’ll do all-night marathons of forty minute to one-minute apart feedings. I’m not getting a lot of sleep, which is par for the course for new parents—especially when breast feeding.


I have learned a great deal in trial by fire.  Here are a few lessons for new parents:

The Hospital – what you *really* need

For You:

I packed a couple of nightgowns, a robe, my slippers, some ‘sacrificial’ underwear, a bathroom kit and my Nook (and knitting for some odd reason).  What I really needed to bring? Maybe a robe and slippers would have sufficed. I never touched my reading or the knitting—it was a testament to my delusion. I thought I’d pop out a baby, and be larking about on my tippie toes cradling my baby in one arm and toting Mary Robinette Kowal’s latest book in the other while birds and forest creatures danced around me. LOL. Okay, I wasn't that deluded but I just didn't have any idea what to expect once the baby arrived. These are not the days of a big room full of babies where they stay most of the time while mom convalesces anymore. Now babies stay in the room with mom, and the nurses only take the baby to the nursery upon request for a maximum of three hours per day respite—something I never ended up taking advantage of because I figured it wasn't reality and I wouldn't get that option at home.

Auntie loves Alex
The nightgowns, which I picked specifically for their button-down fronts served mostly to make me feel comfortable in my own skin (let’s be real, those hospital gowns, practical as they may be, are not exactly pleasant to wear). The nightgowns I had also kind of made me look like a haggard Laura Ingalls.  But in all truth, the ‘net’ underwear the hospital provided were what I used, I never took out my own undies during my stay, and since I had to stay at the hospital longer for the unexpected Caesarean, two nightgowns wasn't enough—so I ended up using their maternity hospital gowns to supplement when my clean gowns ran out.

Giving birth is a messy business, and the hospital is well-equipped to provide for clean stuff if you don’t feel like having a gown for each day. The net panties can be tossed and do the job they’re designed for.


Bring soap and shampoo and the like too. Nothing feels better than a nice hot shower after all the ordeal of birth, surgery and all the trappings (catheter, tape, IVs, etc). As soon as they loosed me from that stuff, I was up and about, much to the nurses’ surprise—apparently most moms don’t get out of bed very quickly. I just wanted a god damned shower and it’s the first thing I did as soon as they gave me the okay.

The Baby:

You could walk into a hospital with nothing and be okay. Hospitals provide a good deal of support to new moms.  The moment you pop out the baby, he or she will have what they need regardless of what you tote into the hospital. The baby is diapered and swaddled, and given one of those cute little caps for their head. They provide wipes and diapers for the duration, and not only that, they send you home with a bunch of them. Since we opted to use gDiapers, we don’t use regular diapering products but what the hospital sent home with us is wonderful for emergency backup. I keep a packet in the diaper bag if Baby J happens to soil both of the g-Pants on an outing.

Since I chose to breastfeed, we didn't get any special bottle/formula support, but I’m pretty sure the hospital will help with that too.

My message is this, ultimately: Don’t panic.  Don’t go nuts.  You could show up at the hospital with your purse and that’s it, and you’d be okay, and the hospital would provide enough to give you a few days’ running start if you need it. So never fear.

Mom in law swoons
As for home… you don’t need a baby room for at least three months. We haven’t finished the baby room yet, and that’s fine. The bassinet (which we hardly use) is the only necessary purchase. We ended up getting a ‘Snuggle Nest’ because Baby J is happier closer to me, so we have a bed that fits on our bed where he sleeps between us. I know. I’m a sucker.

We actually change him on our sideboard in the dining room. LOL.  It works for now.  ::shrug:: Meh. 

I spend most of my days in my pajamas, and I feel like more of the time is spent with one of my boobs out and a baby latched onto it than not. Hehheh.

Being a mom so far is something I never could even begin to imagine or adequately describe.  All I can say is that no matter how tired, haggard and grumpy I am, one look at Baby J’s face is enough to send me into melting puddles of love.  This bright-eyed, alert, demanding little bugger has become the center of my world. I feel empty if he’s not near me. I live for the moments when he’s sprawled out on my belly, so relaxed his usually bunched-up froggy legs are stretched out and draped on me. I love to hold him against my chest when he’s just a little ball. This tiny (now 7lb 4oz) baby is so f*#%ing precious, it’s impossible to communicate the way I feel.  I sat him on my lap yesterday and he bent his head back to look up at me, and I nearly died from the cute.

He’s cranky. He’s beautiful. He’s precious. His feet are a freakin’ work of art they’re so damned adorable. I’m wholly, and utterly besotted. The mom-chemistry is raging inside me, and I’ve become one of those irritating people that can’t resist posting pictures of their baby constantly on Facebook, and talking incessantly about him. 

Even Satan is in love.
I still have to get a handle on my potty-mouth, but I have a bit of time to reprogram myself so my child doesn’t grow up cursing like a sailor.  And what’s more?  Baby J has brought out the best of everyone, including Satan.  My mother is utterly in love. The usually-child-hating cantankerous black hole of negativity has vanished (on the most part) and has been replaced by a gushing, fussing grandma that just can’t get enough of Baby J.  We stopped by the assisted living facility on our way home from the hospital with Baby J to introduce him to grandma and great grandma, and they were fighting over him.  LOL.

My world is irrevocably changed—but kind of not because of this new addition.  He has sort of fallen into his place in our household, and we both find ourselves looking at this tiny itty-bitty human being in wonder. We have a child! There’s a baby here, sitting on me. Where’d he come from?  Who is he going to be? Who knows? All I know is that every little coo and grunt he makes (even his baby pterodactyl noises) are precious to me.  Hell, even his little apple-sized butt is freaking adorable.

I’m a mom. Holy shit! Be afraid.

Tuesday, November 20, 2012

Alexander arrives. November 17, 2012



A proud papa.

After 36 hours of labour that did nothing to dilate my cervix,
my doctor decided that Baby J was too stressed, and the amniotic
fluids were too low, so she made the call. C-section in half-an-hour.

We went into surgery at 9. Baby J was born at 9:08 AM.



My sister Helen cannot keep from crying because Baby J
looks remarkably like our father.
Auntie Jessica and Cousin Baxten.



Thanks S2 for these precious pictures.





6 pounds, 6 ounces.

Wednesday, October 24, 2012

A rambling update of everythings

Holy crap I drew something.
This is the line art for a bookplate I'm
making for the Wy'east Gallery & Book Shop

It seems the baby-thing is contagious. A couple of friends of mine have discovered they are pregnant, I have an acquaintance who is acting as a surrogate for a couple, and one of my favourite bloggers, Alicia Paulson from ‘Posy Gets Cozy’(the secretive girl) has announced she has finally been able to adopt a little baby girl after going through a long period of searching, finding and subsequent deprivation of another opportunity. I am SO happy for her.  She posted photos of the tiny Amelia, and she is as precious as precious can be! They must be so happy!

Some yard decorations we got ... for the fun of it.
I continue to whine incessantly about the increasing pain of being with child. At this point, my little countdown timer on the blog says 26 days remain before Baby J’s due date. Of course, only 5% of babies decide to bust out of their confines on their projected due date. Most wait a couple of weeks more. My doctor isn't going to allow me to go over much more than a week since I’m ‘advanced age’ and therefore ‘high risk’.  I’m hoping that Baby J’s penchant for ramming my cervix with his little noggin is a sign he might come earlier. Keeping my fingers crossed, because it has become so painful, walking is veritable torture. 

Yes, it's like that. :D
I am able to find respite from the discomfort at the swimming pool across the street. However I went swimming with my husband recently, and he chased me all around the pool, and I swam too much, and the next day I felt like I was going to die. Floating = ok. Swimming = not ok. Any marginally prolonged activity will ruin me for 48 hours. We went to Kruger’s Farm on Sauvie Island with a couple we are friends with this past Sunday, and I got home and passed out like I’d been hit with a big game-tranquilizer and passed out on the sofa within seconds of sitting down, and the next day, I was in so much soreness and pain, I thought I was going to kill someone.

This is what my husband did to the pumpkin he got
at Kruger's on Sunday.
Our seventh wedding anniversary came and went this month; with birthdays, the shower and everything else, it sort of got thrown by the wayside. But we'll live through it--find a way to celebrate at some point. 

While I was grumpy and in pain yesterday, I noticed two guys walking up my driveway. I was lying on the sofa, wishing for a quick and quiet death, my hair was a mess, I was in jammies. I threw on my husband’s robe and opened up the door to the screen and asked what they wanted.  Apparently, these guys were from a Machinist and Aerospace Union that has been working to unionize the employees of my former company.  I used to work for PCC Structurals (Also known as Precision Castparts); a company that is pretty anti-union. I recall a couple of times when there were whisperings of union going on during my tenure there, and the company clamped down on it pretty hard. Christmas bonuses went up fifty bucks too. LOL. Guards appeared in the guard-shack for a while, and then the furor died down.  This union must be pretty serious to drive over thirty miles one way to talk to me at my home. They had a whole list of employees they planned on visiting too.  This is the most serious attempt I've seen in the seven years I worked for PCC from any Union, and I imagine my ex-company will have a bigger battle to face this time if they want to prevent the employees from unionizing. 

A regency infant's gown for Baby J's ORS debut.
An unexpected gift from a kind friend from CA.
Last night, Baby J kept me up until the wee hours, so I decided I would stay up because I had errands to run. So today was another day of my being out and about. Today seems like the longest day ever, because I left first thing in the morning to mail stuff, grab fuel, stop and visit my brother, hit the bank, swing by the baby store to pick up a rocker/swing for Baby-J, some felt and fabric for a project and I wanted sushi. Bad. By the time I had lunch, I was cooked. I got home close to one, lasted a little past two and crashed for five hours. It’s 3 AM now, and I’m bright eyed and bushy-tailed. When pregnant, be prepared for bizarre sleep schedules.

Breakfast at St. Honoré Sunday morning with hubby.
Other than that, I’m just patiently waiting for the time to come for the little squirmy-butt inside me to come out. We have his little bassinet ready, and his little rocker/swing thing (I assembled that tonight and it took the cat only a few minutes to start expressing interest in this device. I had to fold it up and put it away before he catified it). We have the car seat, not installed yet, but we have it.

My shower was held on 10/14, and Baby J got mostly clothes. We hardly got anything completely practical—which was kind of a bummer. Not everyone stuck to the registries either, as I had hoped. We had been pretty specific about asking for things we really needed, but a lot of the family just went to the baby store and went haywire on clothes, and ignored what we needed on the registry. I sound so ungrateful, slap me… I really am not ungrateful, just stressing out. I need to know we have everything ready to go for Baby J and that we’ll have what we need. Trust me, I've had what I call the 'To Go' bags ready for a few weeks already. One filled with onesies, swaddling blankets, mitts, socks, caps and other baby sundries, another filled with 2 nightgowns, a robe, slippers, mini-travel sized bathroom stuff, and lip balm. I am a spazz.
The bassinet is assembled and
ready to receive its squirmy charge.
Thanks to my eldest sister for this crucial
item.
We had to go out and get all the things we really needed immediately, the car-seat, the stroller, the bassinet, all that.  I am aware that buying cute baby clothes is more fun than buying diapers and wipes, I have fallen into that trap myself. Now I know the value of getting the practical items on the registry for new parents—and I will make sure from now on, when I attend a shower, to pick the things that aren't necessarily cute and fun, and add a little tidbit of cuteness to the gift for the sake of fun. In my experience, family members usually pitch in for the larger, practical items, but that somehow didn't happen.  We got 99% clothes and blankets. One or two folks did go with practical items. I have bottles (no breast pump), a few g-Diaper pants for 3 month olds, a tub, and a couple of other sundries.  But we are still in the air over important things, like the diapers I want to use, and bedding for the crib.  We also need to get a crib and finish the baby-room up. It hasn't even been started ::facepalm:: right now, the room is chockablock full of baby stuff from the shower and random gifts from people leading up to the shower, flooring in packages, and other stuff we need to sort through but I am just not inclined to deal with because I’m so damned Preggo and painful all the time. WAH!  Ugh. So much pressure. Luckily, baby will not need his own room right away, and can subsist in the bassinet if he arrives early.  We will muddle through I suppose. I won’t lie, I was hoping I’d have the room done before he got here… all cute and pristine and ready for his arrival.  Dream on Johanesen!


My sister's gift. The colours are not nearly as washed out
as they appear in this photo.
My sister Helen did give me a precious cute canvas which will be affixed to Baby J’s bedroom door when it’s been painted white (it’s a weird tannish-pink right now).  I sort of lost it a little bit when she gave me the painting. Understanding how my sister and I have evolved, relationship wise, is really humbling. She’s grown so much as a person in these past few years, I've changed so much too, that two people who could never really meet eye to eye are now able to have a sisterly relationship. It swelled my heart, just spending that little time with her the day of my shower. The fact that she was THERE was HUGE. And there without an agenda, or because she had other things to do (well, she did, but she came for the shower primarily). There was no sense of obligation… it was so wonderful, having her next to me exclaiming her delight in the baby clothes and being so open and genuine with my friends. I’ll never forget that. Ever.

I could not invite Satan to the shower. She would have ruined an already awkward occasion… and there were already prickly moments that day as it was, to add my mother to the mix would have ended in disaster. On the most part everyone got along… it was strange to mix friends and family, a collision of worlds, and there were territory issues and hurt feelings that I somehow couldn't manage to escape (never seem to be able to).  Either way, with Satan out of the picture it was easier to just show up and enjoy it.  I have been on a ‘satan moratorium’ lately, and haven’t spoken to my mother for a month or more. We got into a tiff about some stupid thing she wanted to do, and honestly, after being told in no uncertain terms that I should reduce my stress during this pregnancy, I found it easy to just block her out and keep her at arm’s length. It has been strange to be completely in stealth mode with her, and my husband thinks it’s inexplicable and feels like I should go see her and mend fences.  The problem is, there are no fences to mend.  It is always a place where I take her abuse, and she makes the messes and I clean them up. I’m just done with it.  I’m not sure if I even want to see her before Baby J is born, honestly. Or even after… which is a sad thing, but I just can’t stand her vitriol.  Last time I went to visit her, Baby J was just as kicky as a mule, and I made a couple of grunts of discomfort in front of my mom, and she whipped her head around with a sneer of disgust on her face and said: “Jesus Christ! What a mean little cuss!”… already ascribing negativity to someone who is completely incapable of ill intent.  She is already painting him as something bad.  She never really has been a nurturer, and she has openly said she doesn't like kids.  She had better not be mean to this boy or so help me I will duct tape her to a wall and forget about her forever. It’s bad enough she’s mean to my in laws and my husband… They are adults and can defend themselves. This child is off-limits and will never be exposed to the crap I was. Never.
Made this some years back. Got supplies
to make some more today. Easy
hand-sewing project.
Ugh.  Anyhow, I’m done ranting about my evil mother for now.  I’m in waiting mode. It could be that my next post has pictures of little feet and a belly and a squishy-face… who knows? Maybe my next post will be something creative and light-hearted.. ::laughs:: I hope to get back to that place soon enough… when beebs is born and I have less agony, and a bit of time between baby naps to do fun things.

Be happy. HC

Wednesday, October 17, 2012

Lunacy of politics.

A secret from this week's PostSecret page. It just goes to show you
how irrational people have become, and how afraid they've been made
about something benign. 

I do not support Romney. I think he is a colossal douche. The debates last night pretty much confirmed that for me. When he walked towards the president with his finger pointing, all I could think was that he was as disrespectful and as big as a bully as everyone says he is. He talked down to the president, the moderator and the audience as if they were the ‘help’. He is not, by any means, a good human being, even in spite of all the attestations of his ‘charitable’ nature.  I see someone who has no empathy at all. I see someone who is so out of touch with the middle class, he really has no idea what the hell he’s talking about when he talks about the middle class.

A good friend of mine who I love called me a hater yesterday because I was outraged by Romney’s behavior.  I see a lot of people whining that the outrage about Romney’s inhuman, robot behavior by calling it hate.  This coming from the base that allows Tea Party people to speak for them; people who post pictures of nooses, and spray the N-word on Obama signs. Sure. The Obama supporters are the haters. LOL, there’s a joke.

I want a president who is a human being. Romney’s practiced smile, and plastic exterior, his condescending tone and the way he looks through people… is not human.  He lacks empathy. You can tell by the way he speaks to people. He was warmer and more affable when he was preaching to his moneyed friends about the 47%... but when it comes to talking to Americans in general, he has no regard for them at all except to ingratiate them enough to get them to vote for him. He is a douchebag. A dirty, dirty douchebag.

Why am I so mad about the whole thing? Because I am middle class. We pay taxes, almost 35% of our income goes towards taxes and other deductions.  My reward for working hard all these years? Being told that the social security program I’ve been paying into all these years may not be there for me when I retire. That my retirement age will increase. That I will lose the mortgage interest deduction that saves our ass every year. That I could pay MORE for health coverage, and could be denied health coverage for pre-existing conditions. That’s my reward for being a responsible American.

Recently, I stopped working (got sort of shoved off to the side by my company is probably more accurate) because my pregnancy was hard and making me lose a lot of time.  That meant I had to either get Cobra (which is SICKENINGLY expensive), or buy our own insurance. My husband needs insurance because his new job doesn’t offer it, and Baby-J will need coverage as well, so we applied through LifeWise of Oregon.  I was declined for coverage because of a pre-existing condition. What was that pre-existing condition? PREGNANCY.  I applied well-within the transitional time, I have had continual coverage for more than ten years, and this is what I get for it.  It makes me sick that I live in a country where being pregnant can be a disease that insurance companies can choose not to cover.  It makes me sick that there is a candidate that will make sure these companies are protected at all cost from the people that keep them in existence, and that their mind-numbing profit margins are not affected by the inconvenience of people getting sick or worse… PREGNANT! And worse, pregnant in a non-rapey way too!

It makes me sick that there are people out there who stand beside this automaton with as zealously as they do their religious beliefs. They cling to things that are meaningless… his so-called ‘faith’ (as if being religious is some sort of ‘I am always a good person’ pass, which is bullshit)… his support of things like guns, and his desire to control how other people believe, how they marry, how they live and how women make choices about their own body, all the while espousing the merits of practicing freedom. It’s all such a big lie.  These people are utterly deluded and without sense.

Last night, on the third debate where this republican team once again comes out of a debate having offered NOTHING in answers for the most important questions that affect all Americans, even those ones who think they are somehow above the damage this potential administration could do.  No answers. The tactics in all three debates has been to deflect. Deflection seems to be a GOP mainstay. When called to the carpet for answers, just point out controversial things about the other side, even if those things are completely fabricated.

This team lies like nobody I’ve ever seen in my 41 years, and somehow that’s acceptable to Americans. It is not acceptable. It is never acceptable to base a political campaign on lies when the fate of 98% of the American people rest on these representatives.  Somehow Romney/Ryan have been given a free-pass to lie their asses off again and again. And not only that, they have a ‘news’ network happy to make up graphics and spin data to support the lies as much as it takes. It is unbelievable. And worse? Even if these lies are debunked with impunity by fact-checkers, they continue to be used and propagated with alacrity by the whole party, and parroted ad nauseam by the base. 


They are 100% unapologetic for their contempt for fact and truth.  They state plainly that they will not be influenced by fact-checkers. They will repeat and repeat lies as if somehow it will make it true. I cannot believe I live in a country where this is allowed; that there is a percentage of Americans who allows this to happen, who enable it, and support it even.  They do so for the dumbest reasons too and are only harming themselves in the end.  The party banks on their continued ignorance, and keeps them fired up by poking them with issues that rile them up, but issues that are utterly meaningless, ultimately.  They are against Obama because they don’t like him. Because they don’t want a black man leading this country. Because they are afraid, and have been made irrationally afraid by the party that is manipulating them.  The doom and gloom being preached by churches and politicians is unbelievable; the lies they are telling to freak them out is inhuman. But as long as it achieves the ends of the 1%, then it is acceptable I suppose, and they give these followers the promise of class-advancement while simultaneously widening the gap between the affluent and the chaff that gave them power and filled their pockets.

I am not supporting Romney. I am a rational person. He is an inhuman bully, who looks at the President of the United States as someone who is less than him. Because he is black.  Because he is human.  Because he is intelligent. Because he has shown success (much to the despair of the GOP and the pundits) IN SPITE of the treasonous stonewalling of the congress. The party heckles him, and disrespects him because they don’t see him as an equal. It’s as simple as that.  Last night’s blatant show of disrespect and bullying was as evident as it can be that this man should NEVER be allowed into the highest office of this country. It will destroy this country from within.

The Americans supporting Romney are being led by fear. A culture of fear being created by the party. They are being told that the economy will collapse (if the GOP keeps striving for that to happen, it just might, that's what they've been aiming for these past four years, they WANT Obama to fail). They are being told by pastors and priests that their souls will suffer eternal damnation if they vote for Obama. They are being told that Obama is going to take away their guns, their rights, their firstborns and their testicles too, for all I know. The craziness is out of control, and nobody seems to think this is complete bunk, and that maybe they're being manipulated. I cannot believe it.  How stupid do you have to be to believe this stuff? They are using words like Marxist, and Communist, and repeating them without even understanding what those things really are.  They are being told they are going to be forbidden to practice their religion... It's utter lunacy.

Get a grip and a perspective people. Context is important. And most of all, objectivity.  Step back from the alarmist crap and look at it with a rational eye.  Things ARE better since 2008. We paid fewer taxes, there are more jobs, and the economy is struggling back from the pit of despair in spite of a congress that has done nothing but work tirelessly to impair this progress. Look at the man you fear, this half-black man whom you seem to believe is a Kenyan Communist Nazi... look at this man who is a loving husband and a great father. A man who has fought for your right as middle class to not be butt-reamed by the 1% in spite of your efforts to protect their right to rape you incessantly.

Do I hate Romney? No. I feel sorry for Romney. He is a sad excuse for humanity, and his running mate is just as pitiable. These people are so disconnected and have no connection with real life. It's sad for them, ultimately. They have all the wrong ideas about what happiness stems from. I don't HATE anything, except maybe sweetbreads, root beer, black licorice and foie gras. And pedophiles. I hate pedophiles. 

Monday, September 24, 2012

Pregnancy… Glow Schmow

This sort of thing is what makes
pregnancy tolerable. Teeny tiny socks
for teeny tiny feets.

My mother once told me that there is a biological mechanism that enables women to almost forget the time leading up to a birth because if women really and vividly remembered what they felt before their baby was born, they would have no more children.  I took what she said in stride, instead thinking it was just that she never really wanted us to begin with that motivated her to tell me that.  Instead, I listened to the women who I now wish to punch in the face; every one of them, personally… The women who said this sort of stuff to me:

“Oh, pregnancy was such a blessed time for me, it was such an amazing experience.”
“I never felt better in my life than I did when I was pregnant.”
“I didn’t even know I was pregnant until I started showing.”

Now seeing how long I’ve been trying to get pregnant, which has been more than eight years, you’d think I’d be more grateful and shut my yap… but if you know anything about me, you know that isn’t the case. I’m going to bitch incessantly about this until I’ve instilled at least one iota of humbling reality in women who are also seeking to ‘glow in the experience of pregnancy’.

For one or two women, pregnancy might indeed be a nine-month reprieve from the inconvenience of the menstrual cycle, with some mild binging on forbidden foods and a period of great hair and skin.  But for many women, pregnancy is an arduous, difficult thing, and there is NOTHING WRONG with resenting how the experience makes you feel. It is HARD. And it is something I wish men could experience, because if they did, they would respect women a LOT more… hell, we’d rule the world because they would be bowing to us in awe. 

My pregnancy has been one awful set of symptoms transitioning into another awful set of symptoms for the seven months I’ve been enjoying this state. The only thing that keeps me going and positive and laughing it all off is the knowledge that the squirmy little bugger inside me is the end result. Otherwise, I’d have probably killed at least four people by now. I’m serious. Starting with my mother, in spite of her foreshadowing wisdom I’d chalked up to her Borderline Personality Disorder.  I’ll talk more about her later—everyone probably wants a Satan update.

Anyhow, I’m sure if you’ve been reading this blog since the unexpected and downright miraculous discovery of my being pregnant after having been cut off my fertility meds in December.  When I took my pregnancy test, I just missed a couple of days’ work for being sick. At the time I thought it was something viral. I was vomiting, and I had the worst headaches. But when at work one morning after entertaining my coworkers with the sound of my violent retching, I realized there were other discomforts I hadn’t noticed. The daily morning mild migraines were constant. But I noticed my breasts were really super sore. Now my breasts, being large and annoying, are often sore even when not pregnant, it’s just the side-effect of having DDDs, I guess. But this was a special kind of sore. A ‘don’t brush my boobs on the edge of my desk’ sore. A ‘if you even look at them, hubby, I will hit you’ sore. 

Out of habit from my clomid days, I was still counting days on my calendar, tracking my cycles. Thank goodness I’d written down the last date of my cycle. It wasn’t SO late that it was alarming to me, at the time I think I was about nine days late, which wasn’t unusual when not on Clomid. I’ve always been irregular.  I resolved to watch for the next few days… usually what would happen in the past was I’d be late, I’d get my hopes up, I’d rush out and get a pregnancy test, and then the day after the negative result, my cycle would begin. I didn’t want to endure that again. I decided to wait until at least 12 days.

Meanwhile, my symptoms were increasingly telling.  I guess after years of being keenly aware of my body, looking for signs, I was really honed in on the severity of these symptoms.  I did wait three more days, got sick at work each of those days. I texted my hubby to warn him there was the possibility I would come home crestfallen and crying again, and he discouraged me from getting a pregnancy test because he didn’t want me to be disappointed.  Regardless, I was resolved. I went to Walgreens and then an errand to the bank. I couldn’t wait, so I actually took the test at the bank.

It took two of the 99% accurate tests to convince me it was POSSIBLE. It took another test at a resource center for me to text husband and to confirm that yes, I have positive pregnancy tests. It took seeing the little heartbeat of the bean for me to accept that this was indeed a real pregnancy and it was happening.  I would spend the next two months in a state of worry, knowing how high-risk this pregnancy was and how tenuous those first three months are.

The first three months were HELL.  My hormone levels were SKY HIGH. I was sick every morning. I missed so much work, I ended up having to take leave. My headaches each morning got worse and worse. And even as the nausea began to abate, the migraines got worse. Constipation, hemorrhoids, dry retching, acne, fatigue of the likes I’ve never experienced… fall asleep sitting up kind of fatigue, something I’ve never been able to do.  But this new symptom is probably the worst of all.  Now those of you who are squeamish might wish to stop reading (probably should have stopped when I talked about sore boobs).

We saw this a couple of weekends ago on our way to Pine State Biscuits.
It was that day I had my first Braxton-Hicks contraction. That was fun.
I'm sad I missed this event. Maybe I can enter when Baby-J is crowning.
The newest symptom is frickin’ AGONY. It started sometime in August and has been getting progressively worse since. I now understand why pregnant women walk the way they do. I thought it was because of the ungainly belly.  I have learned otherwise.  You see, for some women, I’m not sure how many; the pressure of having a baby’s head pressing on the pelvis creates a sharp pain that feels external… almost like the pain of a fresh burn that occurs, well, to put it delicately, in the ‘saddle’ area. In less delicate terms, I grumble about my Vajayjay a lot.  It started off as a pain that sharply appeared the moment I tried to stand from a sitting or laying down position, and would abate after a minute or two, if I didn’t lift my legs. Lifting my legs… ::shudder:::  As the weeks have worn on, the pain is pretty much constant when I’m on my feet.

Now mind you, the women who are disposed to effuse smug and unsolicited advice say things like “Walk… it’ll make you feel better.” That is 100% bull crap. Walking exacerbates the pain. Although while walking, the pain may dull down, after I sit down and get up again, the soreness is amplified by TEN. If I do a lot of walking one day, the next day is like I’m being tortured by the Spanish inquisition.  I want to slap every woman that tells me to walk.  I want to slap any woman who mentions Kegel exercises to me. Seriously? This is pain created by pressure and spreading of the PELVIS bone, it has nothing to do with your Vajayjay muscles. And honestly, the fact that the baby is sitting smack on your bladder, the kegel is getting PLENTY of straining exercise since I’m CONSTANTLY holding back the three drops of urine that feels like a deluge pressing against a dam. Shut up, you damned women! SHUT THE HELL UP! ::gargh:: 

Baby J is an active, seemingly healthy baby so far. He’s happily doing his impression of Michael Flatly and Bruce Lee inside me, and every squirm is a consolation. He’s okay. He made it through the first three months; his heartbeat is regular and steady. That is what keeps me from becoming a homicidal maniac, killing advice-giving moms.  This is what I’m going to hold onto, and I am hoping, just like that cheesy moment in ‘What to Expect When You’re Expecting’ when the long-suffering character, after nearly dying during a C-section, sighs out in relief when holding her baby and says that the past nine months were beautiful… I’m hoping that will happen.  The idea of two more months of this blinding pain in my crotch is almost unbearable.  I keep thinking Baby-J, Baby-J, Baby-J… The fatigue, I can handle, the occasional retch fest, I can handle, the softened migraine, I can live with… but this whole pain down there is absolutely dreadful. Sixty more days!

It’s a dangerous time, but not for me. It’s dangerous for women who come to me with happy faces, boasting about easy pregnancies, or giving annoying trite advice I already read on the web… It’s dangerous for them. I’m a ticking time-bomb. I may have to break my foot off in someone’s ass if they keep babbling their crap at me. ::grump::

So please, women who are actively trying to get pregnant… it may not be the blissful, golden-lit time of flowy hair and glowing skin. It may be nine months of abject humiliation, pain, discomfort, fatigue and increasing annoyance as other women feel it necessary to patronize you to death with their unwanted advice. It might be more than two months of walking like John Wayne in chaps because your crotch-area feels like someone just jammed a red-hot cattle brand onto it. It is months of going pee about nine times a night, having to get up and fight the crotch pain to shuffle to the bathroom in agony.  It is trying to be pleasant to people when you really just want to kick their face in for not having to endure this pain.

Oh, incidentally… I wanted to find somewhere where we could take pre-natal classes; newborn care and breastfeeding and such.  I found a number in Gresham and called it, it turned out it was a couple of Doulas who gave these classes. So I dialed up the number in the car with hubby listening. We were completely floored by the conversation, and laughed about it all the way home.

“Hi, I’m interested in finding some classes on newborn care and breastfeeding. Possibly pre-natal classes if need be…”

“Oh, then you’ve phoned the right person! We work with all kinds of women, preparing them for childbirth and teaching them to care for the child afterwards.”

“Cool. “

“It’s a nine week course. We work mainly with women who are hoping to have natural childbirth, but we have all sorts in the class, we don’t judge.”

“I am unapologetic about the fact that I will have an epidural if I can,” I laughingly reply. The woman hesitates and then says:

“Well, we don’t judge, but we do like to work with women who want to at least TRY to have natural childbirth…” ::eyeroll:: Way to go on not judging there, Sparky.  Good god. $35 an hour to pay for a sanctimonious granola to tell me what to do while sneering down on my epidural-using ass? No thanks.

Tuesday, September 11, 2012

Gallery girl, stay-at-home mom & more.

Simon was idling in bed this morning.
Today was my first day of being a Housewife/soon-to-be-stay-at-home-Mommy.  I’ve been at home for a while now dealing with the symptoms of a tough pregnancy. Up until now, I’ve been doing a project from home for my job, which I finished up on Friday. We weren’t sure when I’d be back. Even though my symptoms are abating a bit, I’m only two months away from giving birth—and after that, we would be faced with the challenges of figuring out daily for our baby.  We weighed the expense of daycare, the reduced expense of only one person commuting in the hybrid; and decided that it would be a wash.  The only additional expense is the purchase of our own health insurance. My husband is making a little more money, so we are going to wing it for a while. Until Baby J (that’s his nickname now… he’s grown far beyond the bean that he was six months ago) is older, and I can start exploring options.

Flower thinks the giant U-shaped pregnancy pillow was
purchased for her use alone.
In the meantime, I will probably focus on web-based income like my online shop and artwork while I’m home, because if I don’t find some sort of occupation, I’ll go insane. I’ll probably focus on nesting and preparing for the arrival of the wiggle-worm until he’s born.  These past weeks, I've been painting and de-cluttering. His room isn’t even begun yet. There’s so much to do and time is just ticking by.

My baby belly is growing. These past few weeks it seems to be growing double-time. Baby J’s little kicks are increasing with strength every day. Sometimes it actually hurts! But for me, after all this time of trying and failing, of worrying that something can go wrong with this completely impossible pregnancy; every squirm, every kick, ever punch is a consolation to me and has been since I’ve been able to feel him moving around from about 16 weeks. Yes it’s been a tough ride, but as a friend of mine once said, the sicker you are, the better the chances are of the baby sticking around. And stuck around, he has. From the tests so far, he is within parameters weight and size-wise, his heart is healthily beating along, no cleft palate, no heart problems—and he is very low risk for any disorders common for babies born to women of ‘advanced age’. He’s got ten fingers and ten toes. So we are hopeful for a happy, healthy little squawk-box sometime close to Thanksgiving.

The view out of the back of the Timberline Lodge, Sunday morning. We
had just enjoyed breakfast at the lodge.
I also want to give a shout out to my new OB/GYN Dr. Jill Shaw.  I cannot recommend her enough. For those of you in the Portland area, who want a real human being, who doesn't talk down to her patients, who laughs and is funny, a bit nutty in a good way, is patient, kind and nurturing, I really would like to tell you to look for Dr. Jill. She is hands-down the best OB I've ever had.

Piles of accumulated work... No more.
I miss my horse very much. He is still at my sister’s house. I wish I could go riding! My friends talk about spending time with their horses and I’m so jealous. I could use some ‘grooming therapy’.  My sister has gone up to Seattle to study to become a Yoga instructor. She’ll be there for the whole month, leaving my portly horse in the care of her husband. 

My sister has been working a lot on her art as well. She’s really growing a great deal spiritually and artistically these past months, and I’m really proud of her.  I love her artwork so much! My sister has always had an exceptional artistic eye. She is what started me drawing, and next to her I’m still such an amateur.  She could do pencil drawings that could replicate anything to detail. She has always been marvelously talented. However, I have to agree with my sister when she says that her pencil drawings, homages to detail and accuracy, seemed to lack ‘soul’.  Then my sister went to an oil painting instructor, and an oil painting workshop last year, and was introduced to producing art in broad strokes. She does most of her painting with a palette knife and wide brushes—yet even removing all that detail she is so accustomed to creating, she is producing pieces with tremendous depth and soul. It’s astonishing.

Here is her art blog; and there are links to her Daily Paintworks Gallery on her page. Check it out! I love her stuff. My other sister has also been dabbling in oils and she will also have her blog and gallery up as well. I’ve been helping them by building their blogs for them.


'A Monstrous Tea' - one of the images now at the gallery.

My creative muse has been coming back. It’s so weird. I hope I’ll be drawing again soon.  There is a book store and art gallery (Wy’east Book Shoppe and Art Gallery)  up here where I live. I showed the owner some of my drawings. She asked that I frame a few ands he’d take some to sell in her gallery. So I went to IKEA and got some inexpensive frames, and framed pretty much one of each of my prints, and brought them to her. She took them all. I was very excited. She said the pieces were different than anything else she carried, and she also wants some bookplates as well. This makes me so happy. :-)

"Oh girls!" One of my future prints and an old 'Office Special' 

Anyhow, this is my update for today. Hopefully I’ll have some ‘non-office-specials’ to offer soon. Maybe they won’t be so hastily made now that I’m no longer in my office.

"Pests" - Another old Office Special and one of my
personal favourites

"Town & Country"
Old Office Special

Another old Office Special I quite like. :)

Thursday, August 30, 2012

Terraforming.

My Pemberley shoes from The American Duchess, painted and embellished.
I've slipped into nesting mode as I move into my third trimester. I've been painting and organizing, and fixing things that have been perfectly fine as is up until now. Now, the whole house bugs me, and everything needs to be changed.  We purged YEARS' worth of clutter and had a huge yard sale the weekend before last, made some money and got rid of 8 years of accumulated thingamabobs.  I always feel like I'm being judged by people when they paw through our stuff, but I got a lot of compliments on my good-taste, which was gratifying.  We got rid of some furniture, tons of useless china, linens and cleaned out the entire attic of its contents, all of which were put there when we moved in 2004 and haven't budged since. I figured if we lived without them for as long as we have, we don't need them.

I'm home, on leave from work, and I sit here and think about everything that needs to be fixed before baby comes.  And it's getting close already!  I'm terrified. We still have to attack the baby's room, but that is going to require some major changes, including some new wallboard, new flooring and a heating source. We have less than three months. :::GAAAHHH:::

Baby has been doing well. He's a kickedy little bugger--squirming around inside me like no tomorrow. At this point he weighs a little over two pounds, and in the pictures on babycenter, he looks a lot bigger than he feels inside me. I'm definitely showing now.  I've gone out and furnished myself with a few pairs of maternity jeans and some other clothes. I won't lie, the jeans are a joke, they have this wide elastic band that never stays up, so I spend my whole day walking around holding my pants up.  I find that my yoga pants seem to work better, I may look like I just got out of bed when I'm out in public, but at least I'm not holding the back of my pants up while trying to push a shopping carriage. It's so embarrassing.

I have now experienced the whole edema in the foot thing, and have had my feet looking like cabbage-patch kids feet. I've also gotten to enjoy the new array of soreness and cramping in places I didn't know had muscles to cramp.  Heat rash comes up quite easily and I sleep sometimes for twelve hours straight.  My migraines are tapering, but I still have 'slam' days when I just feel absolutely awful. Some other days, I am okay for most of the day.

So as the review below reveals, we are consolidating our spaces and finding ways to organize our stuff so we can dismantle the second room and empty it for Baby J.  Slowly, my perfect craft and sewing room is vanishing. It's sad, but also exciting.

We have picked a name. Alexander Stephen. Alexander is a name we both love and happens to be Dan's grandfather's name, and Stephen is in honour of my papa. My father's name was Istvan, the Hungarian version of Stephen.

I attended the ORS retreat again this year, and it was really fun.  I wasn't exactly in the most mobile of modes, and didn't do the things I'd hope to do, like try archery or take walks or swim. But I got to hang out with my favourite crowd, and just being around these women was so fortifying.  Here's a video of some photos taken during the event:



Anyway, just a quick update for now. I'll post something more comprehensive sooner or later. Sorry for the slowness... I'm just so damned... pregnant. :)

My Review of Multimedia Library File

Originally submitted at Plow & Hearth

Our retro-style media cabinets will help you get a handle on your collection of music and movies. File away approximately 228 CDs, or 96 DVDs or 48 videocassettes in the 12-Drawer, or 456 CDs, or 192 DVDs or 96 videocassettes in the 24-Drawer, in any combination.

Handcrafted of solid ...


For DVD storage, it may need some mods

By The Hungarican Chick from Welches, Oregon on 8/30/2012

 

4out of 5

Pros: Beautiful Storage Solutio

Cons: Not Exactly As Decribed

Best Uses: Organization

Describe Yourself: Midrange Shopper

Primary use: Personal

Was this a gift?: No

If you want to use this storage unit as a device to hold DVDs you will be required to do a little extra work. It works fine for CD jewel cases and the smaller, shorter Blu-Ray cases, but regular DVD cases are too tall, and after you've wrangled three or four in there, you won't be able to fit any more because the drawers don't open all the way.

For a DVD cabinet, you will have to turn it upside down and look at the bottom back of the drawers. Each drawer has a little dowel keeping it from being pulled out. Yank out the dowel on the bottom row of drawers, pull those out and keep moving upwards until you've pulled all the dowels out. Now your drawers pull all the way out and you can fit each drawer with a stack of DVD cases no problemo. It is only a quick modification and totally worth it, because it's really a gorgeous piece of furniture and it just takes away that cluttered look a shelf full of DVDs can look like.

We also added some small legs to it so it isn't full on the floor and it rises above the baseboard and shoves right up against the wall. We love this piece of furniture, and it's perfect for a small home where space needs to be economized.

(legalese)

Thursday, July 26, 2012

Good reading for a new parent

Yes, I've been inordinately grumpy lately, I won't lie. It's a side effect of a difficult pregnancy, being mired in my house 24/7, completely deprived of good company and friends, and being exposed for unhealthy spans to the full brunt of the internet, politics, and craziness in this world.  My structure and routine is thrown to the wind, and it's quarter past one in the morning and I'm bright eyed and bushy-tailed for the first time all-day.

I haven't been able to scan the ultrasounds as promised because I forgot to set up the printer on my new computer and it's Windows 7, which means I have to jump through some crazy hoops just to get the updated driver to work with the printer/scanner and my new OS (I saw my husband go through hell with this, so I'm not really inclined to face that battle at this point. I have very little energy and am short of patience for this sort of thing.

By Pamela Druckerman

I've been listening to the audio book version of "Bringing Up Bébé", a book recommended by my sister, who oddly, is childless.  She read it and has been touting it with fervour since she found out I was with child. She gifted it to me, she thought it was so important.  I can't say I think she was wrong.  It's interesting, however, to read this book from the perspective of a European raised kid, to hear an American describe it. And it is in many ways, a revelation.

I've spent many hours puzzling with myself about child rearing methods I've seen in my time in this country. So many aspects of it confounded me. The indulgence, the 'it's all about the kids' thing, the leaping up and fussing to their every whimper, their lack of real consequences and discipline and the hovering, helicopter parent.  All of this is completely outside of my realm of understanding and has been for twenty years. And now, I finally know why--and Pamela Druckerman has shown me the light.  It's because I've come from the world of the 'cadre', and the parenting I see in this country is completely foreign to me.

Bringing up Bébé illustrates very strongly how children of France (and Belgium from my experience) are raised differently -- and more rationally than American and English children. It's much less child-centric overseas. They raise their kids, love their kids, watch out for them, but their entire universe does not revolve around the children. The lives of parents do not come to a halt or take a back seat because a child is born.  This book talks about the 'cadre' system which introduces life lessons, discipline and caring without being overbearing or too lax. It talks about understanding a baby's sleep cycle, to learn to not jump up every time it cries, to take pause, and in part, help the child's development by leaps and bounds by assimilating the baby to your family's routine rather than mold the family's routine to the baby. The babies sleep the night as early as two months old ... and are much more balanced, calm and peaceful because they are enjoying their full sleep cycles by rote.

It's a brilliant book, and I recommend (I'm only halfway through it BTW, my hubby stole it to listen to on his commute, which is awesome) this book to all new parents or soon to be new parents. It's eye-opening. If you want a non-screaming, non-bratty, respectful 'sage', well-behaved child that sits in restaurants quietly, eats what he's given and listens to you, this book could really help you work towards that; by basically raising your kid like the French do.  Just a quick recommendation.

Thursday, July 19, 2012

Mean Girl


I guess with this pregnancy…I won’t lie, this pregnancy has been extremely difficult… my tolerance for stupidity and the ridiculous has been reduced to nothing.  My creativity, also, has taken a dive, and I haven’t done much of anything artistically, costumey, or bloggey.  I’ve been missing a lot of time at work, and have been working towards going on leave because I am pretty much non-functional the better part of the day. I start to find some semblance of normalcy around 2 or 3 PM in all truth, and it seems to be getting worse. For a while, I had just migraines, but now I have migraines and I’m back to retching again. Add onto that, at 22 weeks, the heartburn has escalated to the point where I feel like I’ve imbibed some battery acid for the fun of it because I have this innate desire to spend the whole night in agony.

The good side? Baby is a boy. We found out at 19 weeks. He’s an active little nugget, and has taken to doing his best Michael Flatly impression inside my womb. What I love about this is that before I could feel him, I lived in a constant state of anxiety. After so many years of not getting pregnant, so many disappointing pregnancy tests, I guess I always expect the other shoe to drop, and would chew my nails for every ultrasound, crossing my fingers that the heartbeat would be there, and the baby would be okay.  He was. Now, I can feel him ‘being okay’. When he’s Riverdancing on my spleen, I am well assured that so far, he’s doing fine.  In fact, at this moment, he’s round-housing my ovary.

So there it is. I’m still pregnant and am more than halfway through the process of growing the baby (hubby sometimes turns to me when I’m being obstinate or bratty and says: “Just grow the baby!”.  He is very excited.

Another good thing is I continue to lose weight, in spite of the growing nugget inside me. Hopefully I won’t gain a shite-load of weight with this pregnancy. I eat badly, but only in small amounts, so that’s probably the reason why I’m still dropping pounds in spite of eating crap that hasn’t crossed my threshold for decades… like Kraft Macaroni and Cheese and canned Campbell’s soup.

Other than that, my existence is mostly confined to my home. I did get out a few weeks ago to my sister’s house to go visit my horse. He looks good, and seems settled. Sister is taking very good care of him.  That’s it.

I have however, as I stated, been really short-tempered with people I usually have a lot of tolerance for.  Oh well.  I’ve been especially annoyed by people who are whiners, over sensitive, self-absorbed and know-it-alls.  I’ve gotten so much unsolicited advice from people who probably should not be giving advice. I’ve had people criticize my dietary choices, but who are completely unable to lose weight themselves yet are endowed with unending knowledge about what’s best for me; I’ve had people tell me how to raise this child, and their child is a notorious heathen.

I’ve been ignored mostly by my family with this pregnancy, only my sisters have really expressed any interest. Satan is marginally interested, mostly because 1) having a grandchild will gain her attention at the senior home, and 2) it’s a boy, which is what she wanted all along, and was quite sure to inform us girls of.  She in fact went into a litany about this when I brought her over to eat mussels a few weeks ago—she complained in none-so-many-words that I was somehow undeserving of the honour of having a male child. Yes, I wanted a girl, but this little boy is as loved and wanted as can be, and I sure as hell will never make him feel bad for being something other than a girl.  Anyway, another thing she did was to spout off to her blabbermouth friend that I had better not expect her to watch the baby all day. As if! My mother is about as nurturing as a cuckoo bird, I would rather gnaw my own arm off than leave this child in her presence for more than twenty minutes—and never alone. She was acting like this one day, and then she snapped at my sister-in-law because Jessica was excited about the new baby and apparently in my mother’s world, Jessica has no business even breathing in this baby’s general direction. God I really dislike my mother sometimes. She was so rude to Jess who was so genuinely happy.

My eldest brother and his family didn’t even say congratulations, but I suppose it’s to be expected since the only time he’s called me in the past seven years is because he accidentally pocket dialed me. The time before that, was to call to tell me that he wasn’t coming to my wedding after all, and to promise me a wedding gift that he never sent. ::shrug:: Oh well.  I got into a fight with them recently, and his wife defriended me on facebook (boohoo) and he’s been posting passive-aggressive comments on my posts. He dislikes that I’m left-leaning and really dislikes that I’m an atheist. He’s always been really condescending to me about my choices (in the four times I’ve ever had an adult conversation with him) and has always sought to ‘school’ me about my choices. He has never really been a brother to me at all, I’ve met him about as many times as I have fingers on my hands… I’m not kidding, he’s my half-brother and he is much older than I am. He’s also been pretty much absent from the family for pretty much the duration of my lifetime, and completely uninvolved with anything. He held a lot of resentment towards my father apparently for a bad childhood. I can understand him disowning my mother though. I wish I could. Yet oddly, I’m the one pretty much stuck with her.

I guess I’m just done with people who don’t really know me very well making judgment calls about me, and that includes my brother and his wife.  It also includes people who have been an annoyance to me for a long time, and who I now just don’t care if I humour them or not anymore. I was told yesterday by someone that they didn’t want to speak to me ever again; but seeing that I had to hide her Facebook feed because her posts were so irritating and sometimes gross, it really doesn’t make a difference. I apparently offended her. And if you’ve been following this blog even a short time, you know how little respect I have for easily offended people. Personally, I see people who are quickly offended as bullies. They are trying to control how other people express themselves so that they don’t have bruised feelings, and it is so wholly self-absorbed to expect everyone to walk on eggshells around them. Good god. Then they cry victim when someone lets them have it.

And the thing that started it all? This is really funny… Apparently a really sweet friend of mine posted a picture that had some joke about vegans or meat eaters or whatever. I wasn’t aware of the controversy that ensued about this image, but my friend was pretty much made to feel so shitty for posting a joke, that she felt compelled to take it down. She was pretty much bullied to take it down in a really passive-aggressive way. Of course, I didn’t know this … all I know is that my friend posted that she’d removed the post and felt terrible for offending someone. I told her she should not feel bad, and that she should not feel compelled to remove anything from her wall for the sake of some sensitive whiney brat. It wasn’t anything she could do to keep someone from taking offense at something that is ultimately and WHOLLY ridiculous. It was then that the woman who apparently raised the stink jumped all over me, calling me mean, and accusing me of glorifying my meanness. It was hilarious—but it also pissed me off because all this drama about restricted diet was at my nice friend’s expense, and that selfish woman who started it turned it into a circus for no better reason than to call more attention to herself and how special she is I guess.  I have no patience for shitty people who hide under the guise of victims while expecting the world to bend backwards to accommodate their overly sensitive nature.  I have a hard time feeling any empathy or sympathy towards people who* demand* and *expect* it from me rather than earn or deserve it. I don’t care how bad your situation is, if you live to be treated specially for your personal issues, you’re a selfish dolt.  I was sexually abused as a child... I don’t get all pissy when someone posts a pedobear joke on their wall and browbeat the poster until they take it down.  My brother is developmentally disabled, I don’t humiliate people for using the word retard… why? Because I’m pretty sure that post is NOT ABOUT ME. Obviously this woman has a hard time making that distinction because apparently *everything* is about her. Don’t post anything criticizing people with dietary restrictions or you’ll get relentless, lengthy missives in your comments until you can’t stand it anymore and you feel compelled to retract your post to make it stop.

She made an complete spectacle of herself and then blocked me. ::eyeroll:: My feelings are so hurt. I’m so offended. ::shakes head and chuckles:: That sort of defensive response to something is really telling though.  Extremely telling. It ultimately reveals that person for what they are. Insecure and self-absorbed.


Am I mean for saying this? Not in the least. I’m not mean at all. I’m truthful, harshly so sometimes. In general, I’m extremely nice and pretty freakin’ tolerant of a lot of drama and stupidity on the most part. I am also one of the most understanding people you’ll ever meet. But if you cross the line, are obnoxious to people who don’t deserve it, if you lead people astray because you think you know better, take a nebulous, generalized issue and focus it down onto one person, or who take your drama to my threshold, or the threshold of someone I care about who is too nice to defend themselves, I’m going to be honest with you and I’m going to call it as it is. It’s as simple as that. And if you cry offended over stupid shit, or take something personally because you feel guilty because there’s truth the generalization, that’s your god damned problem and I’m not going to humour you for it. It’s as simple as that.   Life is too short for that shit.  And I’m not going to expend any precious energy at this time humouring someone to spare their over-sensitive feelings. I am an expert at being polite and considerate and I am extremely diplomatic, but I am not stupid or easily manipulated… and I sure as hell won’t be browbeaten by some self-important whack-job.

::sigh:: I feel better now. It’s probably best I’m confined to my house right now on the most part because I just have no patience for this sort of crap these days. Petty, whiney, hypochondriac, classless, oversharing narcissists… no thanks. I’ll stick to people who are not so self-absorbed that they don’t think everything that’s controversial is about them, and who can take a prickly subject in stride like an adult, and laugh it off with a sense of humour and objectivity.  I’ll take the worthy souls who are worth my time, energy and caring—who don’t expect it, who don’t demand it, but who earn it with depth of character. In other words, my friends.

I’m going to go and find some chocolate now. Nom! I’ll post some ultrasound pics tomorrow.

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