February 2005 Archives

Just for the record, I thought I'd record the physical experience of being 9 months pregnant. I sincerely hope this is the last time I'll live through this experience, so I might as well write it down while I can. Maybe my future self really will look back on this and laugh...or at least shake my head in admiration and send my past self a big ol' "you go girl" high five (or maybe another one of those shiny gold medals from the Suck-It-Up Olympics).

Overall, being 9 months pregnant isn't so bad, as long as I'm sitting down or reclining somewhere comfortable (defined as somewhere with lots of squishy support objects like pillows and couch arms). But standing for any period of time, let alone bending over or walking, has become wildly unpleasant (and frankly, exhausting). The good news is that I still have great, thick hair and (mostly) glowing skin (I do have numerous weird red splotches, plus random moles and skin tabs that have appeared, but I'm trying to ignore those), and from the side I definitely look like a prehistoric Goddess fertility figure, which is kind of cool. The bad news is that the pains and indignities of advanced goddess-hood are much more numerous: I literally waddle when I walk and my balance is totally skewed; my lower back starts to hurt whenever I've been on my feet for more than a few minutes at a time; I have a feeling of constant downward pressure as well as sharp aches and occasional stabs of pain in my lower groin (especially when I first get up from sitting or lying down); I feel puffy and bloated, especially in my legs and ankles; I have increasingly intense daily periods of "active baby" time where I literally feel sharply poked and prodded from the inside as if someone is playing me like a drum (which is a very weird feeling); my belly feels super stretched and itchy and now I've got "flame tips" (my old stretch marks are expanding even further); I'm regularly short of breath, especially when one of those "practice" Braxton-Hicks contractions hits and everything from crotch to sternum constricts like a blood pressure cuff. I've already whined plenty about the insomnia that's been afflicting me, but there's also the general forgetfulness/distractedness/slowness and moments of "empty brain", the constantly sore shoulders and neck from both dragging around the even-yet-more-alarmingly-voluminous-than-before boobage and being forced to sleep only on my side, and now there's my favorite new indignity: hemmorhoids (I will spare you the details, but suffice to say: OUCH). All this and it's just a "preview"--the even yet more intimidating pain (and indignities) of labor and recovery are still to come. (Ok, at this point it is difficult for me not to dip into a huge vat of sarcasm here and start ladling it out--so I think I'll stop.)

I'm really trying to keep a good attitude overall here, but oh God, let this be over soon so I can get back to reclaiming my own insides (I'm not even going to whine about the subsequent year's worth of lactating, yet, but I'm sure I'll get there over the next a few weeks). D-day: 7 days and counting. Yoiks.

Despite the joys of insomnia visited upon me once again last night and the resultant lack of sleep, and despite the continued presence of far too much phlegm in my personal head space, I had a particularly creative day today. Thanks to said insomnia, at 5:30am this morning, I wound up sitting on the couch doing some edits to my novel. And then after a few hours of interruption by kid and morning routine, I headed out to the 'Box for some previously scheduled BIC writing time while Josh, bless him, took Eli to go see the Heffalump movie. (And there at the 'Box, despite the usual temptations of excellent convo with the writer gals, I actually did manage to get some more writing done--not finished, but a good start.)

Then, as if that wasn't great enough, when I got home, I was still feeling inspired (or was that caffeinated?) and went out to my "studio" and spent several great hours painting. I felt really connected to the creative zone and pleased with the process, and the time just flew by...by the time I was convinced to quit fiddling and stop (by both Josh and Eli), it was dinner time and my back was killing me from standing up at the easel for hours. But the good news is I think I pretty much finished one out of the four paintings I'd been planning to take with me to the hospital. (There's always more that *could* be done with every painting, but until I get some distance from it I'm not sure whether I'll be leaving this one alone or tweaking it just a bit more. I suppose a lot will depend on timing, truthfully.) It took me a lot longer than I thought it was going to, mostly because of the bits that were brushwork and not brayered (I'm a lot more confident with the brayer and anyway, you can't really re-do the brayered stuff--once it's done it's done, and that's good for me and my process). But even if I don't wind up getting a chance to do the other three, I'm glad I at least will have this one to take with me. Who knows, maybe tomorrow I can do another! We shall see...I'm *so* trying to take things moment by moment right now and not get caught up in my usual planning ahead. It's both a valuable lesson and wildly annoying to me to try to stay in this place of uncertainty. But stay there I must.

Whoops, it's 11:30pm already. Doh. I just spent two delightful hours on the phone with my dear friend Galila discussing all sorts of parenting, childbirth and general life balance issues. So much as I'd like to actually record a few of said discussions for posterity, the pragmatic part of me knows it's time to pop some Sudafed (did I mention that I'm *still* f**king sick? Grrr. This snot can go away aaaaany time now, really) and go to bed. Right. Now. More thoughtful and complete weekend report tomorrow, I hope.

Still sick. Still tired (insomnia struck again last night, from approximately 2am til 5am). But I worked all day and I made it to Friday, without giving birth (so now I am hoping I'll get some time to do some of those things I've been putting off all week.) And now our friend Trey is over and the conversation is way more interesting and tempting to me than fooling around on the blog tonight. So tonight is merely a placeholder.

So despite being sick and generally feeling less-than-tiptop, I went into work today. Because there's so much to do, and so much to pass off to my coworker, and the responsible, determined-to-finish-up-projects part of me wants to feel like I'm wrapping things up in a satisfying and professional way. I actually did get lots done today, although I left an hour early, feeling like a wrung-out washcloth, and went home and crashed out in bed for an hour before the kid got home.

But aside from that, what I realized today is that far from experiencing the worker drone's excitement at getting ready to leave work for awhile on a nice long "vacation" (well, we all know that maternity leave with a brand new baby is no vacation, but you know what I mean), this process of winding down is actually making me a little bit sad. I'm actually going to miss work. Not so much the individual things that I do every day, the specific tasks and the daily slog, but the less obvious things: the feeling of being useful, of having a purpose, of succeeding at things I've put effort into; the autonomy of setting my own pace, the ebb and flow of the office day, which is under my own control, for the most part (as opposed to, say, the control of a small, hungry baby); the companionship of coworkers (and certain business contacts) that I spend a great deal of my time with, who know me well and whom I actually do enjoy; the familiarity of routine. Go figure. Work isn't always or automatically a bad thing. It's just the balancing of work and life that is sometimes out of whack.

But rather than get into a whole digression on how our society makes it difficult to balance work and life and how especially working moms are forced to make less than ideal choices, I think I'll just stop and go tuck the kid in.

Ok fine, I'm sick. Dammit. But at least I'm not horrific flu-sick. Yet. Just a mild head cold (stuffy nose, sore throat, general malaise) so far--and I really hope it doesn't get worse. I stayed home from work today and napped a lot and took it easy and tried not to zoom around the house doing doing doing. (The most involved project I took on today was putting away all the new baby outfits and other fun things from the shower, but even that tuckered me out.) I either nipped this in the proverbial bud or I'm going to wake up tomorrow with the full force of the cold finally having gathered enough momentum to squoosh me. We'll see.

This evening I went and had dinner with my friend Daphne and her girlfriend Terri in their cute 'n cozy little apartment in Oakland. Risotto, kitties, sitting around on the couch talk talk talking...it was a lovely little grownup get-together. The kind that will become all too scarce in the fairly near future. Sigh.

Sorry for the lack of anything more interesting to say, but I think it's best for me to head off to bed. Will I be stupid and go into work tomorrow? Stay tuned.

I am not. Getting. Sick. Goddammit I am NOT.

(And anyone who even dares to make any sort of comment either in print or in person about how running yourself ragged lowers your immune system will have to be kicked very hard in the shins, whether metaphorically or for real.)

Today was a busy President's Day for Eli (and for myself, the humble mama-servant of His Honorable Majesty the Prince of All Creation): we had two back to back playdates scheduled here at the house. The first one was at 10am (leaving the tired and frazzled mama-servant barely enough time to clean up the house and get the kid fed and dressed beforehand), and went through lunch. Eli had a terrific time, and the mama-servants even got to spend some good conversational time together once the little princes were distracted with each others' presence.

They left around 1pm (and Eli was sooooooo sad when his friend left, it was so cute), once again leaving the tired and frazzled mama-servant barely enough time to clean up the house for the next round, and the next playdate buddy arrived at 2pm. Eli once again had a terrific time (and I had a chance to get to know a new mama-friend), and was sooooo sad when his buddy left around 5:30. Once we cleaned up and Eli finally recovered from the sad, sad farewells, it was time for dinner. Now we're sitting on the couch watching a movie, both of us tuckered out from our day of successful socializing. (And I have a feeling bedtime will go pretty smoothly, given all the tuckering.)

Whew. Weekend of craziness, coming to an end. One more week of work (and much final baby prep) to go. Then...hold on to your hats, kiddies, it's time for the entire world to shift into a whole new dimension of craziness and exhaustion. Yoiks!

More hurry flurry today. Started out the morning with frantic cleanup of the mosh pit from the day before, then had a meeting with our doula Zoe for a couple of hours. (Great meeting, I'm glad she's on the team, but it once again did get me feeling the teensiest bit of anxiety that we still have stuff to do to get ready for baby that we haven't yet done...eek! Trying not to think about all that until at least tomorrow morning, though.) After that, I had a short but welcome downtime break (including a power nap), then it was off to my mom's house for my baby shower. It really was a wonderful shower--Dri and Mom planned it and Michelle made the cutest cake. There were lots of people who love me, lots of girly excitement, great food and super cute gifts and all those good things. But also lots of being "on" and witty and chatty and charming, which, though fun, is tiring. Then family dinner at Mom and Dad's with the Nevada City Dvorins, then finally back home. What a weekend. Oh God, won't someone please peel me off the couch, give me a full body massage, and then put me to bed? Now *that's* a fantasy I can really get behind right now. Sigh. Must. Slow. Down. I *did* actually turn down an early morning breakfast out with the Dvorin clan tomorrow morning (even though I know Eli would have really loved to see his cousin one last time). See, I'm not *totally* insane (just rapidly degenerating). Though I did schedule two back to back playdates at our house tomorrow (Eli and I both have the day off for President's Day, but Josh has to work). But that's just because I always think it's easier to deal with a day home with kid if we have something to do, and I thought playdates would be more fun (for both of us) than dragging him around on errands. You know, at this rate, my last week of work next week is sounding positively restful. Funny, that.

Today began with a 6:30am wakeup (after not going to bed until nearly midnight) by a wiggly, excited Eli ("I am so excited about my birthday party!") and jumped right away into hours and hours and HOURS of cleaning, prepping, decorating and shopping (not to mention keeping the kid from exploding with anticipation). Then it went right from there (no break for resting or even lunch) into the birthday party itself (a pirate party, arrrr), which was fun and successful, but also full of the kind of loud, elaborate chaos that you only get when you pack 10 excited preschoolers and their parents and assorted friends and relatives into a house way too tiny for everyone and then run them all around with games and activities. Then there was a few hours of cleanup and entertaining of assorted relatives, pizza was ordered and consumed and everyone left around 7pm.

It's been an utterly exhausting (though successful, especially in that "super-mama" arena), gold-medal-winning day in the Suck-It-Up Olympics. I am just. So. Frikking. Beat. I am quite literally at the end of my endurance and could actually envision just closing my computer and curling up and falling asleep right here. The amount of energy I put out today would have been exhausting (and impressive) even if I was not a) sleep-deprived and b) 38 weeks pregnant, but given that I was both, I am just amazed I'm still alive, let alone awake. I'm not sure what I was thinking (maybe it was preggo brain?) when I said "oh sure, we can throw a big complicated theme party for Eli 2 weeks before my due date, no problem", but I take at least some small satisfaction (hey, it's my only recompense) in knowing that even with my "handicaps", I still kick ass and take names. Um, so to speak.

But now it's a little after 8pm and the kid is in bed and everything is finally, beautifully quiet and calm. Even though the house is still an absolute mosh pit of tiny toy pieces, wrapping paper bits, and leftover food and drink, Josh and I are both sitting on the couch with some ice cream and our computers, blogging (the couple that blogs together, um, snogs together?). And after this, I fully intend to just blow off the rest of the cleanup and spend my few remaining conscious minutes doing nothing more taxing than maybe reading a magazine for a few minutes before I go to bed by 9. (Because in true J & J fashion, our day is starting tomorrow at 9am with a prenatal consultation meeting with our doula and then barrels off into several other events, one after the other, for the rest of the day. Whee!)

A special shout-out, before I go collapse, to "Uncle" Matt, who not only showed up at a kid's party without being in any way coerced (let alone actually related), but who, once there, was the most helpful, thoughtful, all around wonderful friend in the world (to both us harried parents and to the hyper kids). He helped us set up all the food and drinks, took pictures for us with our camera, played and played and PLAYED with the kids, and was just the biggest mensch in so many ways. Matt, you are more than da bomb, you're the whole friggin munitions factory.

So last night we went to go see Ani Difranco, my favorite musical artist ever, live in concert at the Luther Burbank Center up in Santa Rosa. My friend Chris introduced me to her back in 1992 or so, when we were new little grad students. Back then Ani was still in her "angry li'l folksinger" phase (I think the newest album when I started listening to her was Out of Range, and she's had around 12 or 13 albums since). I was immediately taken by her gorgeous voice, her outstanding lyrics (she is probably my favorite poet as well, or at least she's tied with Marge Piercy and Billy Collins), and her fresh musical style, not to mention her admirable political/philosophical stances. (I wish I could be more lush and original in my descriptions and praise of her, but it's late and I'm resorting to boring adjectives and cliches. Bite me.) She's been on quite the musical journey over the last decade or so, and I haven't always loved every bit of it with the same intensity, but she is still the unquestioned grand high poobah of my musical universe, and in many ways a role model/heroine to me.

Anyway, we used to go see her live every chance we could, because she's absolutely amazing live, but it's been probably at least 5 or 6 years since we last saw her (yes, being a parent, not to mention someone with an overcommitted, overactive social life has a lot to do with that). So we were really excited and thrilled to have finally made the committment to get the babysitting, buy the tickets, and set aside the time to go do this.

Unfortunately, the best laid plans aft gang astray, and although we got out of the house and in the car with what we thought was plenty of time to spare, we wound up getting stuck in some horrible rainy night accident-caused traffic jam that made us an hour and a half late to the concert. (Augh!) So we missed about half the concert, which was a humongous bummer that I'm trying not to keep gnashing my teeth about. However, once we got there and sat down (luckily we had reserved seats), we were captivated and the remaining hour or so was wonderful. As Josh pointed out, it was in many ways like seeing an old friend again, someone you only see at family gatherings every couple of years or something, someone you really really like to spend time with even if it's brief. Interestingly, her music now is more like it used to be when we first started listening to her, so the whole concert felt much more familiar than it would have if we'd gone to see her, say, 3 or 4 years ago when she was doing different things with her albums. But it (and she) have also matured, so it's even better now, more complex musically and lyrically, her voice and guitar work richer and more controlled, if that even makes sense. (I think it's getting late enough so that I'd better quit while I'm ahead. Assuming I was ever ahead...but ahead of what? Ok, don't answer that. Never mind. Stopping now.)

Anyway, despite our struggles to get there, it was a wonderful time, and I feel a renewed appreciation for this artist and her artistic journey, and for what she's meant to me and mine. I can't wait to see what she's up to another 10 or 20 years from now. Ani F***ing Difranco, man. She ROCKS. \m/

Just to finish up some of those colorful, parachutical thoughts for future reference, here's a few more roads not taken that I thought of this morning at 3am, while I was tossing and turning in my insomaniacal glory:

1) Therapist (again, one of those people-oriented professions, and something I think i'd be good at. Although I don't know how much of other people's pain I could take day in and day out.)

2) Writer (yeah, i know this is mostly a pipe dream, at least as far as doing it full time professionally. But a girl can dream, and I might as well put this down and be official about it. Same with Artist.)

3) Editor (a midwife for books! Again, requires dealing with people as well as lots of reading and writing and I think I'd be good at it.)

4) Event coordinator (related to that whole "Wedding Planner" thing, but I could do more than just weddings. In fact it'd be pretty fun to do all kinds of events, from birthdays to anniversaries to holiday parties to retreats. This is a job path I'd seriously consider if I could only figure out how to break into it and get steady work.)

5) Creative coach (this was originally an idea that Josh had, but I like it too. Kind of like being a combination therapist/cheerleader/mentor for creative folks. Sounds like a humongous amount of fun and rewarding too. But hard to set up as a full-time gig.)

6) Tour guide (a weird one, I admit...but I like the idea of showing people around some place or event that I myself like a lot. It could be anything from a tour guide in a park or historical/art museum, to being a tour guide of a city or a scene, like the "vampire tours" we went on in New Orleans. Kind of like being a teacher on your feet, combined with being a good actor. This is something I'll do someday when I retire, maybe.)

7) Massage therapist (another off-the-wall one, but again, something I've always appreciated and thought that I'd be good at. And how great would it be to have a barterable skill? :) )

Now that I look at it, only some of these (therapist, writer, editor) really count as roads not taken--as in, things that I once thought I'd do, or had started to head towards doing/being. The rest of them are more like "roads still yet to explore": things that utilize skills or interests I already have but have never really followed up on. Funny how pretty much all of them, however, are strongly people-oriented and in many cases artistic (here I'm lumping "drama", "writing" and "visual arts" together). It's not that I don't like what I currently do (having, as it does, a strong component of relationship-building and people skills, as well as being at least tangentially related to things artistic), it's just that I can see these other roads as being potentially more interesting/fulfilling in the long run. But hey, there's going to be plenty of time to completely re-evaluate my entire life as I approach 40. Now is the time to hunker down, I think, not change everything. And I'm fine with that.

And on a completely separate note, I want to say that today is Eli's 4th birthday, and WOW how time flies. Talk about your humongous life-changing events...this one was a doozy (for me AND for him, I'm sure). And how glad I am to be celebrating another year of the most incredible journey I've ever undertaken: parenting. Not to mention celebrating the kid himself, who truly is the light and center of my life. (Yes, he shares that position with a select few, but today's his day so it's all about him.) I think this next year is going to be a big one for him--he'll have a lot going on. 4 is such a great age, so open and so curious, but still so innocent and centered. I can't wait to see how he moves through it and what he'll be like as he emerges on the other side into 5. Happy Birthday, Eli!

Well, as my friend Lara N. so helpfully pointed out in the comments to last night's entry on roads not taken, "why be an officiant when you can run the whole damn thing?". She's got a great point. Another road not taken that I was seriously considering for awhile was being a wedding planner. I had a little taste of this helping out with some friends' weddings, and frankly, I was pretty damn good at it. (Again, those people/networking skillz and fabulous attention to detail would come in quite handy for a profession like this.) The main difference between the officiant and the planner is the amount of time invested in each wedding (planners are obviously way more involved, whereas the officiant has maybe a meeting or two beforehand, and then a few hours at most on the day itself), and the onstage vs. behind the scenes difference between the two. (I admit I do sort of like the performance aspect of being the officiant.) Anyway, I like weddings and I like planning things and I like working with people so....yeah. It'd be a pretty good alternate path for me too. And a fun little entrepreneurial biz. But again, not so much secure or lucrative at first, and probably not so easy to set up with small kids. Although I definitely would still consider it in years to come.

***

And now something completely different, your amusing Eli anecdote for the day (somewhat paraphrased as I can't remember the exact wording):

Eli (prancing about naked in front of the mirror wearing only his pirate hat, hook, sword and eyepatch): I look good naked with pirate stuff!

Josh: You've got a great future in entertainment ahead of you, kid.

Me: AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

(It's only funny 'cos it's true....)

Here's what randomly escaped my mouth during one of those always-interesting conversations with my writer's group gals tonight: I declared that one of the "alternate universe" paths I could have seen/could still see myself taking would be to spend my days as a combination of wedding officiant and childbirth educator/doula, perhaps with a little hospice care thrown in. But it makes sense, actually. What could be more interesting or meaningful to a people-oriented person like myself than to spend my days being around other people's big life events (marriage, birth, death), providing education, perspective, a sympathetic ear, a supportive presence, etc? Each of those activities would be satisfying in a different way. I could draw on my attention to detail, my dramatic training, my teaching ability, and my listening/empathy skills. Not the type of job(s) that fits easily around having small children, mind you, so I'll have to put it off for a few years, but a tempting fantasy nonetheless.

I seem to be thinking a lot about alternate job paths lately. Maybe I'll post about some others tomorrow. I'm generally going to try to resist figuring out the color of my parachute and all that for a while though--I think I'm about to have all the big life upheaval and changes that I can handle for awhile. But I figure writing some of this down to come back to later can't hurt. I'll probably need the reminder(s).

It's soooo late and I must sleep. But I just wanted to say that tonight for Valentine's Day Josh suprised me with an evening at Teatro Zinzanni, and it was fabulous. If you've never been, it's a bizarre yet fascinating combo of cabaret-dinner theater-circus, like the unholy child of Cirque du Soleil and Rocky Horror (or something like that). We sat at the same table as a lovely young engaged couple from Orinda, and a good time was had by all. I am feeling the love.

But I am also feeling the sleepy, so I just can't say any more. Perhaps tomorrow.

For approximately 18 years, I wore an ivory moon and star necklace from the Renaissance Faire around my neck. (Most people who worked at the Ren Faire for any length of time had one of these necklaces from Pale Moon Creations--it was kind of a secret Faire Folk's ID badge.) For most of those 18 years, I wore it every day, 24/7. I didn't take it off at all, not to sleep, not to shower--I even wore it when I was in the hospital through my cancer experience (I took it off for each radiation treatment and then put it right back on aftewards), and pinned inside my dress at my wedding.

I bought it the second year I worked at the Ren Faire, as part of a sort of "friendship pact" with my dear friends Galila and Linda, later to be known as my "moon sisters". Linda bought a waxing faceless crescent, I had the full moon with a face, and Galila had the waning crescent with a face--each one different, but connected to the others. My moon sisters eventually stopped wearing theirs, except occasionally--but I kept wearing mine daily. Right around the time Eli was born, I stopped wearing it exclusively (I would sometimes take it off in order to wear another necklace), but I still wore it quite a bit (it was my default jewelry, like my wedding ring or my second hole earring hoops--there unless I took it off for some specific reason). Here's a picture of me wearing it (it's a vastly unflattering picture but it was the first one I could find where you can get a decent look at the necklace itself):

The ivory it was made out of (and yes it was estate ivory, in case you were wondering or starting to tsk tsk me) had yellowed where it had touched my skin, acquiring that coveted patina of age. The gloss and polish of the original piece was faded, and you could see fine lines showing in it, the original tusk's grain. The face's carved features had begun to soften and blur, becoming less distinctly chiseled as the ivory wore. It was one of my most precious personal possessions, my talisman--both a reminder of my years at Faire (and the many meaningful moments in my life there), and a personal symbol I related to on many levels. Josh, after we met at Faire, got an ivory sun necklace which he also wore all the time. (We had to special order it in ivory because they'd stopped making them in ivory a few years after I'd bought mine--they switched to bone, horn and other, non-organic substances.) The summer I was pregnant with Eli, I bought an ivory star necklace for him, and wore it together with my own moon and star necklace in preparation for the time he'd be old enough for me to pass it on to him. (I'm wearing that one as I type this, as a matter of fact.)

You may have noticed by now that this story has so far all been told in the past tense. That's because last January, when we went to Hawaii with my parents, I lost my moon necklace, somewhere between the condo and the beach and the condo again. I searched for it (in vain), and finally had to comfort myself with the fantasy that it had come off in the ocean and was even now being washed out to sea, perhaps to be buried in the sand somewhere for a future beachcomber to find someday when the land changed. Even though it wasn't a 24/7 part of my life anymore, I was really, really, really bummed about losing it--I can't even quite express how it made me feel. It truly was like losing a piece of myself, a piece of my own history, almost a piece of my own body.

So this last August, when we went to visit the Ren Faire at Stafford Lake, I went to the Pale Moon booth and talked with Heidi, the super nice proprietor who I always visited every time to at least re-string my necklace, and placed a special order for a new ivory full moon and star necklace. It wouldn't be the same, of course, but I felt like I really wanted a replacement. Months went by, and my polite and reasonable email and in-person queries were met with equally polite and reasonable reasons why the special order wasn't done yet. I almost gave up and bought a non-ivory one, but it seemed important to get as exact a replacement as possible (and frankly, elephant sympathies or no, I love ivory, I admit it.) So I was without my moon necklace for almost exactly one year, when out of the blue earlier this week, I got an email from Heidi saying "it's done! I'm mailing it to you!".

So today, I am wearing my new moon necklace. And I love it. It's slicker, shinier, thicker and gleamingly whiter than the old one--there are innumerable tiny differences that are clear to me every time I rub the moon face between my fingers or look at it in the mirror. But it's so very comforting and pleasing to me to have a moon face and star back around my neck. I feel back in balance. I'm so glad I have it before the birth of this next baby too--for some reason, I feel like I just really wanted the talisman back before I went through labor again. And now I have it. I hope this one lasts for at least another 18 years, or until I'm ready to move on, at least.

What I Did Today:

Woke up too early
Sketched for paintings
Watched movies
Talked on the phone
Showered with my kid
Visited with friends
Fussed over a cute fat baby
Wrangled a couple of hyped out 4 year olds
Walked around too much
Made quick decisions
Ate a bologna sandwich
Spent way too much money
Did a photographer's job for her
Checked email
Read blogs
Courted tragedy by losing track of my kid several times while distracted by shopping in a big store (but managed to find him again each time)
Dozed off on the couch while the kid was plugged in
Puttered and nested and generally cleaned up the house
Didn't overbook my day
Baked banana muffins with the kid
Finished a book I didn't particularly care for
Tried and failed to think of some sort of coherent, interesting topic I felt motivated enough to blog about
Went to bed early

It's one of the trippiest things in my life to be able to look down at my own belly and see it suddenly shift, jiggle, undulate and/or bounce--from the inside. And then not to be scared or worried about it, but rather vaguely pleased in a sort of "awww-isn't-that-cute" kind of way. Weird.

How is it that we pregnant women (let alone others) don't react with fear, disgust and superstitious dread at this sight? I guess that hormone cocktail is even yet more potent than I had previously imagined. Go figure.

I often find myself at the end of the evening wanting to blog (or write, or do at least something in the vaguely creative vein), but having nowhere near enough energy and brainpower to actually write anything more than a short bit in order to fulfill the habit (and turn the little number on the calendar purple). Which leads me to reflect (albeit briefly) that writing seems to often be a matter of timing for me--which is to say, its quality (let alone quantity) seems to be dependent on the particular time (of day, as well as sheer amount) I allot to it. I know this isn't a big surprise, but I figure if I actually put this thought down, it might help me to actually prioritize making not only *some* time for blogging/writing, but the *right* time (e.g. time when I'm less tired and feeling the pressure to go to bed).

In any case, right now is not the right time. I will try to find a different time tomorrow. In the meantime, I leave you with a link to a new blog I found and have been loving: Outer Life. It's a personal blog, but so well done. (We hates it, precious, it's just the blog we always wanted to be and we wants it.) I have no idea who this guy is but I love his writing style and his sensibility. I've been enjoying it so much I've been obsessively working my way through the archives. That should tell you something. Anyway, enjoy.

Last week Oreo the boo boo kitty had to go to the vet for her yearly checkup and vaccinations. I'd also planned to use this opportunity to ask the vet about her rather alarming skinniness of late, not to mention her habit of pooping outside the box and meowing her head off at ungodly hours. Well, after some stunningly expensive bloodwork and tests, we now have confirmed what we suspected: Oreo's got an overactive thyroid, and will have to be on meds the rest of her life (though there is also apparently an expensive "kitty chemo" option that we might wind up choosing at some point if the daily pill-giving gets to be too much). Zowie. Never a dull moment.

In other newsbits, I had a horrible headache today for the first time in a long time. Not quite a migraine (thank god) but certainly not a good feeling.

Had a prenatal visit today with a new doctor at the practice I go to, and you know what? I swear she was younger than me. That just doesn't feel right in a doctor. Am I *really* that old now? Good god, it's all downhill from here. I don't *feel* that old...but wait, maybe I do. Sigh.

I'm starting to get a bit overwhelmed by all the stuff I want/need to do in the next 3 weeks before everything comes to the proverbial screeching halt. (Talk about deadline pressure.) Here's a small smattering of the "things to do" that are cluttering up my thoughts right now and making it difficult to either relax or focus (I picture all these different obsessions standing around in a circle holding hands and hurling grade-school like rhyming taunts at my poor, overloaded brain, which is bravely standing in the middle of the circle biting its non-existent yet trembling lower lip in an effort to keep from bawling):

-Fix my "juliart" web page (the page for my paintings)
-Finish planning Eli's bday party (need cake, balloons, feathers for hats)
-Research and apply for CA state disability to cover at least some of my maternity leave
-Try on old/research and order new nursing bras
-Sketch out and then actually start the paintings I plan to bring to the delivery room with me
-Finish up the chapter of my novel that will "plug the hole" in the story so far
-Buy the last few necessaries for the baby/baby's room (diapers, cd player, diaper genie refills, garbage can, etc etc)
-Re-do all the album info on iPhoto that I lost after I upgraded to iPhoto 5 (grr)
-Upload and comment on last few "rolls" of digipix I took
-Make a list and even start packing the things I'm going to want to bring to the hospital for when I go into labor
-Make treats/wrap presents/fill out cards for Valentine's Day

Oh god I can't go on. I thought writing things down would help but instead I think I'm freaking my out (as Eli used to say). Time to go to bed.

Ugh. Exhausting evening of arguing over dinner with my increasingly food-phobic kid. Now it's suddenly bedtime and I haven't done anything I wanted to do but I know I must sleep or I will surely regret it tomorrow (as I did today), when the crash point of the mid afternoon hits and I can barely keep my head off my desk.

More interesting posting some other time. For now, le snooze.

Ok, I'm officially entering the 9th month of pregnancy now: my due date is one month (exactly 4 weeks) from today. One month! That doesn't seem like very long at all. I think it's time to start obsessing, don't you? Sure you do.

Tonight we had a great phone call with a woman named Zoe who is likely to wind up being our doula (she also happens to be my prenatal yoga teacher). I'm actually looking forward to having her work with us. There's a bit more scheduling and due diligence (e.g. calling past clients) to be done, but overall it sounds very promising and we're both excited.

More preggo updates to come...for now, this preggo needs to do some pre-emptive sleeping.

Another satisfying Sunday with a good mix of stuff: BIC time in the morning (and since I was there an hour and a half earlier than anyone else, I actually got some writing done--never as much as I hope I will, but some is better than none and I'm not complaining), house chores, a fun art project (my mom's friend Suzanne came over and did a body cast on my super preggo torso, so we'll have a matching pair--she did the one we have from Eli's pregnancy and it's a stunning piece of art, IMHO), close friends over for relaxed, yummy dinner. And as an icing-on-the-cupcake bonus, it was a gorgeous sunny day today. Driving back and forth to Petaluma was almost achingly beautiful in an idyllic, pastoral way: vivid emerald green grass from the recent rains on hills and roadsides contrasting nicely with the puffy masses of occasional bright yellow-blossomed acacia trees and the black and white fluffy winter coats of "happy cows" (they come from California, you know) grazing on it; the beginnings of Spring's cherry and magnolia blossoms coming to life in their delicate pinks and whites while still surrounded by Winter's dark intricate skeleton branches of oaks and liquidambers; a bright, open, robin's egg blue sky with merely decorative horizontal brush strokes of white clouds. God I love where I live, especially this secret "green season", that bonus time between Winter and Spring where everything stretches and begins to wake, slowly, slowly, but without the rush and bursting of Spring's full enthusiasm.

And now...ice cream. It doesn't get any better than this.

I'm sitting here writing this on the aptly named love seat in the living room, stealing fond and loving glances over the top of my screen at Josh, who is asleep on the couch ("just resting my eyes"), with his (closed) powerbook sitting on his chest, his arms affectionately/protectively/comfortably crossed over it. If I wasn't feeling so damn lazy myself I'd get up and take a picture of him, it's that cute. Ah well.

Josh and I went to a prenatal partner yoga/labor preparation class today at my yoga studio, and it was a really great experience. I know I've mumbled about this before in this blog, but I think both of us have really been feeling at best, distracted and at worst, in denial about the fact that, hello, we're about to have a baby. This is such a stark contrast to when I was pregnant with Eli, when both the pregnancy and birth were huge, shared projects that we were both obsessed with and which seemed to take over our entire mental/emotional lives. This time, we seem to have barely acknowledged the upcoming upheaval, especially the birth process itself (except perhaps in short "oh-my-God-I'm-tripping-out" bursts before turning away to focus on something else in our busy and exciting space shuttle launching lives).

Anyway, this class was excellent because it gave us both, together, a space in which to really think specifically about labor and birth, and to reconnect with each other around the whole topic. We not only learned (and in some cases relearned) some very helpful tips and techniques to be used during labor, but we each also got to talk through some of our personal fears, anxieties and desires around the birth. Most importantly, we jumped right into that space of deep connection with each other that is often so hard to access (let alone remember) amidst the hurly burly overscheduled overwhelming life we lead these days. Which makes me realize yet again (and want to tattoo on my forehead, or at least post on my bathroom mirror so I don't keep forgetting) that love is always there, just below the surface, ready and waiting to be reclaimed. The challenge is to remember that the surface beneath which all that love burbles and burgeons like an inexhaustible font is no thicker or harder to penetrate than the skin of a soap bubble, needing only the barest of fingertip touches to release it, everywhere.

Well, ok, that was purpler than I intended, but I'll stand by it. My point is, I think I've turned an important corner and I'm ready to birth that baby now. (Not that I'm in any particular hurry, mind you, there's still a lot I'd like to do and prepare--and I say that just in case the Goddess of Childbirth is reading this blog over my shoulder. 'Cause you never know.) And I'm feeling confident and good about having my true companion along for the journey. The adventure continues!

I picked Eli up from school tonight, and we went to the video store before we headed home. I wanted to pick up the DVD of "Hook" that Eli's been asking to watch again ever since we rented it a month or two ago. (The Peter Pan/Captain Hook/pirates obsession continues!) What was cool about this experience though, was being able to go somewhere with Eli and *not* have to "wrangle" him during the experience. In other words, instead of having to worry, say, about keeping him (or the store) safe or making sure he didn't just run off and get distracted in something else or bother other shoppers, like would have happened a year or two ago, I had a totally "normal" experience with him, like just, well, going to the video store with a friend. We looked around at the videos, talked about what looked good and what we wanted to rent, chatted with a friend we met there, paid for our movies, and walked out. We drove home and talked in the car about Eli's day at school, about the movies, about dinner, about whatever was on his mind. I really like this part of parenting--where I just get to relate to my kid as a person, as opposed to being the police officer or the teacher. Does that make sense?

I guess what I'm trying to remark on here is how much I appreciate this age that Eli's at now, where he really is a kid and not a baby anymore. And how much I enjoy hanging out with him. I feel really lucky to like my kid as a person so much...and I can't wait to see how much more I like him the longer I know him. Of course I'll always have the roles of police officer and teacher and all that other stuff too, but I'm just so thrilled to sometimes also be my kid's friend.

Tidbits from the day:

The kid was on a hunger strike this morning (he didn't have dinner last night, nor did he have breakfast this morning), declaring that he'll only eat two things now (bagels and macaroni and cheese). Thank God he apparently ate ok while he was at daycare. How has it come to this? I hate the idea of him not eating, but I don't want to turn this uber-pickiness into a power struggle. But I also don't want him to live on macaroni and cheese alone. I don't know how to break this cycle.

I had an unexpected victory at work today--a deal I thought I'd lost came back (due solely to my perserverance and not taking "no" for an answer), and it looks like it'll be a decent one for my client.

Prenatal yoga class tonight went really well--the stuff that previously scared me wasn't so bad tonight, and I felt strong and focused even though I went in feeling tired. I do think this class is helping prepare me mentally, if nothing else, by bringing up and then helping me face fears and anxieties of several different types.

Tonight was the first time in at least the last 20 years that a dragon actually showed up in a game of Dungeons & Dragons I was playing--and we defeated it (not without sacrifice but still).

I'm officially sick of all my maternity clothes, and yet I have at least 5 more weeks of wearing them. Bleah.

Honestly I can't think of anything else right now, not even in tidbit form. I had all kinds of things earlier today but they've vanished from my head like little cheshire cats, leaving only a taunting grin behind. And dammit, I've stayed up too late again. To bed, to bed.

I got this idea from Dri's rabbit hole posts, where she grabbed a picture of Josh's desk at work and passed it off as hers. The idea was to put up a picture of the place where I spend most of my waking life: my desk at work. Sadly, I'm not quite feeling deep or writerly (or even awake) enough to really do a good bit of rambling about what one's personal workspace says about one (let alone what my personal workspace says about me), so I'll just do the picture-worth-a-thousand-words thing and give you a few images, with a smidge of commentary. (Yes, these pictures are small and relatively dark, but it's the general gist that counts, right? Right.) If you want to know more (or feel like floating a theory of who-I-am-based-on-my-workspace), you'll have to ask and/or comment. Ready? Here we go.

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Here's the view I most often have, staring straight at my computer screen. My actual desk is off to the left there. Those french doors overlook the main drag of our quaint little small town (we're on the second floor). I have a tiny little wrought iron balcony out there that makes me think of New Orleans when I stand on it (but with way more pigeon poop and far fewer parades).

Moving around the room from right to left, you can see my desk in the foreground and my bookshelves in the back. I had to close the blinds on the french doors or the shot wouldn't have come out.

The bookshelves across from my desk that I stare at all day when I'm not staring at my computer or out the french doors. And yes I cleaned my desk before I took these pictures, thanks for asking.

This is what you'd see if you were sitting in my "guest chair" across from my desk, looking at me sitting behind my desk. Off to the right of this picture here are filing cabinets, shelving units with marketing materials, the entryway to my office and a little tiny kitchen in here too, but I didn't bother taking pictures of all that.

The kid's sick, I'm beat and not feeling the greatest myself, I had a long busy day at work, and tomorrow is one of those space shuttle days. Things feel like a Jenga tower, about to crumble with one more tap. So tonight, the blog gets short shrift. Sorry.