Holiday Songs (Pregnancy Hormones Edition)
1) Jingle Bells, No One Cares
2) We Wish You A Merry LEAVE ME ALONE CAN'T YOU SEE I'M TRYING TO EAT CHICKEN IN BED!?!!
3) I'm Dreaming (Of Putting My Shoes On Without Assistance)
4) Walking In A Winter Wonder If I'll Ever Be Able To Lean Over With Ease Again
5) Silver Smells of Food Cooking Make Me Feel Ill
6) Little Drummer Boy or Girl?
7) Santa Claus Is Coming To Town (Good, But I Ate The Cookies Already)
8) All I Want For Christmas Is To Get This Baby Born!
9) Have Yourself A Wary Little Christmas (I Could Start Crying At Any Time)
10) Hark How The Wells (Of Tears Come Out OF My Eyes-Why'd You Call Me Round?!)
Sunday, November 24, 2013
Saturday, November 23, 2013
"Anybody ever tell you, you gotta big head?"
As a matter of fact, yes. Yes, I have been told over the course of my lifetime, that I do indeed, have a big head.
It started at a pretty young age, when my mother started to notice that it was getting difficult to buy hats for me. As a small child, I'd had lots of hats, but around middle school, it became apparent that hat shopping was not going to be a huge part of my life. Slowly it became harder to find me a baseball cap that didn't look ridiculous, and by the time high school rolled around, the only hats my head would even pretend to wear with comfort were those shapeless knitted winter hats (think burglar hats), and the occasional beret. Then came the event that solidified it in my mind, had there still been any doubt. The World Series, when I was in the 10th grade.
For several reasons, I had decided rather randomly that I cared about baseball now. Specifically, I cared about the Yankees beating the Red Sox. Could have been because we girls were all obsessed with our teacher, and he was a diehard Sox fan, who knows? Nonetheless, I took my babysitting money off to the mall, to buy a reeeeal Yankee cap. Where else to go but Hat World? I decided to be open with the gentleman helping me, so I said,
"Hi...I want a Yankee cap, but I need the biggest one you have-the largest size!"
(too many times had I been burned by "One size fits all"-how about one size fits NORMIES)
He obliged me, and brought out a large men's size cap. It perched atop my head like an urban fruit basket, and no further. He sighed quizzically, and brought out "The biggest hat we have-will fit ANYBODY-is elastic!!"
I should have known what was coming, but I eagerly took the hat, and optimistically put it on.
It would not go on. IT. WOULD NOT. GO ON. This elastic-banded, deliberately big hat was not going to go on my head. I took it from atop my bird's nest-ahhhh hair, and handed it back to the salesman, who then gave me a piece of advice I would never forget.
"There is no hat for you. No hat in the world!"
Seeing as this was coming from the man who ran "Cap World" I took it to heart, and only occasionally after that tortured myself by trying on hats that I knew wouldn't fit. Then came the horseback riding.
I hadn't been in years, and so when I went a few years ago on the way back from a wedding in Pennsylvania, I rightly figured that to go on a two hour trail ride through the woods, I ought to wear a helmet. I pre-signed a form saying that I was ok riding without one despite risk, in case the helmets didn't fit, and followed the drawling ranch worker out towards the horses and helmets. Because I told him of my head, he sauntered past the smalls and mediums, which were actual horseback riding helmets, and stopped in front of the largest, which were simply bike helmets. You'd think they'd fit just about anyone.
I tried it with the pads still in. Nope. He took them out, and placed the helmet back on me. Nothing. Finally, he and his mullet looked down at me and said, "ANYBODY EVER TELL YEW, YEW GOTTA BIG HEAD?" Oh, he knew not what he said.
I tell you these two stories, readers, to get pity. No, no-I tell you these two stories as a backdrop to explain why, at our ultrasound the other day, I asked the technician, with hesitance and a bit of fear, "How big is her head?"
I expected a number. I expected maybe a big number. What I should have known based on the past (pour some out for one's Cap World), was that the answer was going to be this:
"Umm...well....she'll have a lot of...brains...."
That and the fact that as a 35 week old fetus she has a 37 week old's head sizewise, was the most concrete answer I could get out of her. This makes me afraid. And little daughter, I promise you...if you truly do have a big head, Mommy will order you the prettiest little hats ever-from a big head internet store. There will be a hat for you, Baby Miller-Hyman. Any hat in the world.
It started at a pretty young age, when my mother started to notice that it was getting difficult to buy hats for me. As a small child, I'd had lots of hats, but around middle school, it became apparent that hat shopping was not going to be a huge part of my life. Slowly it became harder to find me a baseball cap that didn't look ridiculous, and by the time high school rolled around, the only hats my head would even pretend to wear with comfort were those shapeless knitted winter hats (think burglar hats), and the occasional beret. Then came the event that solidified it in my mind, had there still been any doubt. The World Series, when I was in the 10th grade.For several reasons, I had decided rather randomly that I cared about baseball now. Specifically, I cared about the Yankees beating the Red Sox. Could have been because we girls were all obsessed with our teacher, and he was a diehard Sox fan, who knows? Nonetheless, I took my babysitting money off to the mall, to buy a reeeeal Yankee cap. Where else to go but Hat World? I decided to be open with the gentleman helping me, so I said,
"Hi...I want a Yankee cap, but I need the biggest one you have-the largest size!"
(too many times had I been burned by "One size fits all"-how about one size fits NORMIES)
He obliged me, and brought out a large men's size cap. It perched atop my head like an urban fruit basket, and no further. He sighed quizzically, and brought out "The biggest hat we have-will fit ANYBODY-is elastic!!"
I should have known what was coming, but I eagerly took the hat, and optimistically put it on.
"There is no hat for you. No hat in the world!"
Seeing as this was coming from the man who ran "Cap World" I took it to heart, and only occasionally after that tortured myself by trying on hats that I knew wouldn't fit. Then came the horseback riding.
I hadn't been in years, and so when I went a few years ago on the way back from a wedding in Pennsylvania, I rightly figured that to go on a two hour trail ride through the woods, I ought to wear a helmet. I pre-signed a form saying that I was ok riding without one despite risk, in case the helmets didn't fit, and followed the drawling ranch worker out towards the horses and helmets. Because I told him of my head, he sauntered past the smalls and mediums, which were actual horseback riding helmets, and stopped in front of the largest, which were simply bike helmets. You'd think they'd fit just about anyone.
I tried it with the pads still in. Nope. He took them out, and placed the helmet back on me. Nothing. Finally, he and his mullet looked down at me and said, "ANYBODY EVER TELL YEW, YEW GOTTA BIG HEAD?" Oh, he knew not what he said.
I expected a number. I expected maybe a big number. What I should have known based on the past (pour some out for one's Cap World), was that the answer was going to be this:
"Umm...well....she'll have a lot of...brains...."
That and the fact that as a 35 week old fetus she has a 37 week old's head sizewise, was the most concrete answer I could get out of her. This makes me afraid. And little daughter, I promise you...if you truly do have a big head, Mommy will order you the prettiest little hats ever-from a big head internet store. There will be a hat for you, Baby Miller-Hyman. Any hat in the world.
Friday, November 22, 2013
Thursday, November 21, 2013
Month 8 aka Ow, My Dignity.
"You're glowing!"
"You look beautiful!"
"It's such a feminine, womanly thing!"
Before becoming pregnant, I'd heard these things said to and about pregnant woman who were in the later stages of their pregnancies, all round and such, and as an outsider, I was skeptical but intrigued-does pregnancy really feel like a magical, womanly, maternal and somehow voluptuous and sexy experience? I cannot and will not speak for every Mommy-to-be, but let me say this: speaking purely for myself, pregnancy around the time of month 8 (where we are right now) feels a lot more like this:
or this:
-than it does like a mystical experience wherein you understand your body and your partner and yourself in a whole new and deep way, and I say that as a girl who's incredibly happy to be having a baby, and has wanted one for a very long time. It feels-sorry girl power-Really. Freaking. Fat. Let us explore the stages of the I find myself going through on a daily basis, as an ever growing pregnant lady:
1) Good morning, sunshine!
-Ah yes-time to get up. My brain is telling me that I have to go to the bathroom RIGHT FREAKING NOW, but also that I'm sore all over and should therefore take my time getting up. That's not to mention the fact that my expanding girth makes rising a challenge anyway, which causes me to essentially have to roll this way and that, making very old man noises all the while, until I can toss myself upwards and into a standing position, wherein I will use the walls to creep my way to the bathroom. Excellent. Did I do it without waking/alarming Josh? Ten points!
2) Feeding/Walking my son.
-I should stop and make sure that you all understand that this is my son:
-Moving on! He wants to be walked and then fed, so after I have struggled to put clothes on, and thoroughly winded myself by leaning over to clip on his leash, we're off. That is, after I've epically fought my coat zipper, sweet talking it into not breaking, and to please withstand the belly, just for a little while longer. We're outside, we're walking, and so long as I keep the bending to a minimum, I'm ok...then it's back up a few steps, and it's time to eat! I huff and puff to put his filled dish on the floor, and then it's time to rest. Up until recently, this has so routinely included a nap, that Charlie temporarily took up the habit of coming out to the living room and gesturing towards the bedroom with his head-"Mommy-time to lay down!"
3) Nom, nom, nom.
-For at least the second time of the day, I'm starving! I probably have had several huuuuge glasses of milk by this point, and if Josh was home at breakfast time, some scrambled/fried eggs, grits, and English muffins, but either way, it's time to eat again. Looks like somebody has an unholy craving for a pile of chips with semi-melted cheese on top. If I'm feeling trashy, I might drink some soda with my prenatal vitamin, water if I'm feeling responsible, and milk if that awesome morning sickness has reared it's loving head. One of the many upsides to my little Charlie, is I can always claim when Josh gets home that the dog ate all the cheese...he doesn't believe it, and he doesn't care, but it makes me feel less like an overfilled Ziploc bag of pudding.
(P.S. For some reason, chocolate pudding makes me feel super ill. Not the point...)
4) Crying without the spilt milk.
-An important thing to remember is that interspersed with all of this are the very random and nonsensical crying jags. The following is a quick list of reasons why I've cried over the last few days:
-Charlie looked at me.
-I had trouble taking my hoodie off while laying down and Josh had to help me.
-I talked to my Mom and she didn't ask how I was feeling.
-I have a stuffy nose.
-My little brother hurt my feelings.
-I could go on, but it....might....make me...y'know.
5) Daytime activities.
-This includes trips to Stewarts, the grocery store, baby classes, etc. We can move through this swiftly, which is distinctly unlike the way I move through the aforementioned activities, unless quickly means wobbling-ly and with occasional "You need to wait for me!"s if the person I'm walking around with happens to speed up to a normal pace.
6) Bedtime.
-Usually this includes collapsing onto my pillow between Josh and Charlie and falling asleep far faster than I thought I would (quick note, if you lay down in bed with a book or your phone in your hand, you will eventually drop it on your face. Hard.)
7) Second Bedtime.
-Surprise! You thought I thought I was going to sleep all night, didn't you? But I need to go to the bathroom again, and apply lotion, because I'm of course incredibly itchy. Then I realize how anxious I am (oh look, it's freaking NOTHING!) over being awake, so I have some snacks (probably more cheese) and glasses of milk and search the Internet for hilarious pictures and articles until I start to collapse, and head back to bed, Charlie having snuggled up to Josh in my spot.
Wow...that all seems super bitter-Josh, you were right! The thing you have to know is that yes, month 8 sucks for a lot of reasons, but I know that within the next 5 weeks, we will have a little baby to love, and I'm so excited to be a Mommy, and to watch Josh be a Daddy. I will not miss being pregnant, but I will always remember the unbelievably exciting realization that we made a little person, and my body actually housed and nurtured her for 3 quarters of a year...and that is not a feeling I'd want to have skipped.
...Man, I'm hungry again.
"You look beautiful!"
"It's such a feminine, womanly thing!"
Before becoming pregnant, I'd heard these things said to and about pregnant woman who were in the later stages of their pregnancies, all round and such, and as an outsider, I was skeptical but intrigued-does pregnancy really feel like a magical, womanly, maternal and somehow voluptuous and sexy experience? I cannot and will not speak for every Mommy-to-be, but let me say this: speaking purely for myself, pregnancy around the time of month 8 (where we are right now) feels a lot more like this:
or this:
-than it does like a mystical experience wherein you understand your body and your partner and yourself in a whole new and deep way, and I say that as a girl who's incredibly happy to be having a baby, and has wanted one for a very long time. It feels-sorry girl power-Really. Freaking. Fat. Let us explore the stages of the I find myself going through on a daily basis, as an ever growing pregnant lady:
1) Good morning, sunshine!
-Ah yes-time to get up. My brain is telling me that I have to go to the bathroom RIGHT FREAKING NOW, but also that I'm sore all over and should therefore take my time getting up. That's not to mention the fact that my expanding girth makes rising a challenge anyway, which causes me to essentially have to roll this way and that, making very old man noises all the while, until I can toss myself upwards and into a standing position, wherein I will use the walls to creep my way to the bathroom. Excellent. Did I do it without waking/alarming Josh? Ten points!
2) Feeding/Walking my son.
-I should stop and make sure that you all understand that this is my son:
-Moving on! He wants to be walked and then fed, so after I have struggled to put clothes on, and thoroughly winded myself by leaning over to clip on his leash, we're off. That is, after I've epically fought my coat zipper, sweet talking it into not breaking, and to please withstand the belly, just for a little while longer. We're outside, we're walking, and so long as I keep the bending to a minimum, I'm ok...then it's back up a few steps, and it's time to eat! I huff and puff to put his filled dish on the floor, and then it's time to rest. Up until recently, this has so routinely included a nap, that Charlie temporarily took up the habit of coming out to the living room and gesturing towards the bedroom with his head-"Mommy-time to lay down!"
3) Nom, nom, nom.
-For at least the second time of the day, I'm starving! I probably have had several huuuuge glasses of milk by this point, and if Josh was home at breakfast time, some scrambled/fried eggs, grits, and English muffins, but either way, it's time to eat again. Looks like somebody has an unholy craving for a pile of chips with semi-melted cheese on top. If I'm feeling trashy, I might drink some soda with my prenatal vitamin, water if I'm feeling responsible, and milk if that awesome morning sickness has reared it's loving head. One of the many upsides to my little Charlie, is I can always claim when Josh gets home that the dog ate all the cheese...he doesn't believe it, and he doesn't care, but it makes me feel less like an overfilled Ziploc bag of pudding.
(P.S. For some reason, chocolate pudding makes me feel super ill. Not the point...)
4) Crying without the spilt milk.
-An important thing to remember is that interspersed with all of this are the very random and nonsensical crying jags. The following is a quick list of reasons why I've cried over the last few days:
-Charlie looked at me.
-I had trouble taking my hoodie off while laying down and Josh had to help me.
-I talked to my Mom and she didn't ask how I was feeling.
-I have a stuffy nose.
-My little brother hurt my feelings.
-I could go on, but it....might....make me...y'know.
5) Daytime activities.
-This includes trips to Stewarts, the grocery store, baby classes, etc. We can move through this swiftly, which is distinctly unlike the way I move through the aforementioned activities, unless quickly means wobbling-ly and with occasional "You need to wait for me!"s if the person I'm walking around with happens to speed up to a normal pace.
6) Bedtime.
-Usually this includes collapsing onto my pillow between Josh and Charlie and falling asleep far faster than I thought I would (quick note, if you lay down in bed with a book or your phone in your hand, you will eventually drop it on your face. Hard.)
7) Second Bedtime.
-Surprise! You thought I thought I was going to sleep all night, didn't you? But I need to go to the bathroom again, and apply lotion, because I'm of course incredibly itchy. Then I realize how anxious I am (oh look, it's freaking NOTHING!) over being awake, so I have some snacks (probably more cheese) and glasses of milk and search the Internet for hilarious pictures and articles until I start to collapse, and head back to bed, Charlie having snuggled up to Josh in my spot.
Wow...that all seems super bitter-Josh, you were right! The thing you have to know is that yes, month 8 sucks for a lot of reasons, but I know that within the next 5 weeks, we will have a little baby to love, and I'm so excited to be a Mommy, and to watch Josh be a Daddy. I will not miss being pregnant, but I will always remember the unbelievably exciting realization that we made a little person, and my body actually housed and nurtured her for 3 quarters of a year...and that is not a feeling I'd want to have skipped.
...Man, I'm hungry again.
Wednesday, November 20, 2013
Guinea Pigs and Partners
So when you're going to have a baby, you're supposed to take all kinds of parenting classes. Wanting to do the right thing, we signed up for a two part breastfeeding class, a two part infant care class, and a weekly childbirth class.
Part 1 of breastfeeding was actually pretty informative. I went into it wondering (fearing?) how they were going to teach me to do something I needed an actual baby to actually DO, but ended up learning quite a bit-positions, latching...good stuff. Part 2 will be just as good, I'm sure. Infant Care was incredible, mostly because there was only one other couple in it with us, and they are the nicest, funniest classmates we could have hoped for-THEY GAVE US BANANA BREAD LAST NIGHT. We also watched a hysterical video during Part 1, which I'll touch on later. But anyway. Childbirth class.
...
Sorry, had a moment of PTSD there for a second. See, I'm not the most touchy-feely person in the world. I hug Josh, I hug Charlie (our dog), and I will hug our little baby, but in general, not a big fan of the touching. As it's happened due to scheduling, I've had to go to Parts 1 & 2 of this class by myself-this would not normally be an issue for me, except for two things.
1) It's actually all couples, which is a little 9th wheel-ish.
2) The teacher talks about massage. A LOT.
She doesn't just talk about it though-we're supposed to learn how to do it. To each other. Mostly it's Dad doing it for Mom (or whoever Mom's labor coach turns out to be) while she's in labor, but Mom can return the favor as well. I was not fully prepared for this. I walked into Part 1 with my two fluffy pillows in tow, and after some mundane slides and a very floppy looking doll was repeatedly made to wriggle her way through a pelvis (which was attached to nothing, btw-very crime show-esque), the teacher said this:
"Ok everybody...bring your pillows on down here..let's try some massage. You'll (gesturing towards me) be my guinea pig, because you don't have a partner."
Um....I'm sorry, what is that you just said?
"No....no no no no no....I am not about to be massaged in front of several coupled randos."
Ah, but I was. I propped my pillows in the circle, and leaned down into what my yoga teacher called "child's pose" in high school. And then....then our instructor massaged me, while urging the dads in the circle to do the same for their partners. There was giggling, and some sighs of contentment....and there was me-wishing heartily that I wasn't wearing a dress, and hoping fervently that the massage was meant to be a labor coach's version of a one-night stand; quick, intimacy-less, and did I mention quick? Alas, it went on for a while, before we were sent back to sit down, and the class continued. I shrugged it off after I left, and did not think of it a whole lot more, once I'd relayed the story to Josh and my best friend, who as a fellow not overly touchy sort, expressed her sympathies. Then came last week.
I trekked in with my pillows again, and watched the tail end of a rather mild birthing video. No big deal, I'd seen worse. Then. Ohhh then we were invited once more to the front of the room.
"Why don't you (smiling as one might at a deer in headlights) come on up here where everybody can see, since you don't have a partner?"
Not knowing how to gracefully say "No thanks, I'd rather not feel like I'm in some yoga adult video but thanks so much!", I flopped my pillows and round self in front of everyone one this time, and proceeded to get my hand massaged. With lotion.
"You get a double dose this time!"
This special treat was because I didn't have a partner, and therefore had no one to massage in turn. So these mostly silent couples watched and massaged their partners, while I got both my hands, lower arms, and neck/shoulders massaged. Good. Lord. No. I sat through it, not even really holding back the face of "Please people...please know that I am not into this." I'll say this much: I was not relaxed, nor will I be requesting any massages in the delivery room! Apparently some Mommies are like that...I am one of them, OH AM I EVER.
So why am I writing this? Well, it's because tonight I have Part 3 of that class. We're supposed to go on a tour of the labor and delivery area, and I can only hope that it's not policy to do elevator massages, or use a hand holding buddy system in the hallways, or form a circle in order to sway/chant to our babies to get some future good vibes going ahead of time while in the birthing area but one never knows! My advice to any future Mommies out there? Either bring a partner, or prepare to get touched. Maybe if I exaggerate my sneezes tonight, I'll be allowed to simply observe...?
Part 1 of breastfeeding was actually pretty informative. I went into it wondering (fearing?) how they were going to teach me to do something I needed an actual baby to actually DO, but ended up learning quite a bit-positions, latching...good stuff. Part 2 will be just as good, I'm sure. Infant Care was incredible, mostly because there was only one other couple in it with us, and they are the nicest, funniest classmates we could have hoped for-THEY GAVE US BANANA BREAD LAST NIGHT. We also watched a hysterical video during Part 1, which I'll touch on later. But anyway. Childbirth class.
...
Sorry, had a moment of PTSD there for a second. See, I'm not the most touchy-feely person in the world. I hug Josh, I hug Charlie (our dog), and I will hug our little baby, but in general, not a big fan of the touching. As it's happened due to scheduling, I've had to go to Parts 1 & 2 of this class by myself-this would not normally be an issue for me, except for two things.
1) It's actually all couples, which is a little 9th wheel-ish.
2) The teacher talks about massage. A LOT.
She doesn't just talk about it though-we're supposed to learn how to do it. To each other. Mostly it's Dad doing it for Mom (or whoever Mom's labor coach turns out to be) while she's in labor, but Mom can return the favor as well. I was not fully prepared for this. I walked into Part 1 with my two fluffy pillows in tow, and after some mundane slides and a very floppy looking doll was repeatedly made to wriggle her way through a pelvis (which was attached to nothing, btw-very crime show-esque), the teacher said this:
"Ok everybody...bring your pillows on down here..let's try some massage. You'll (gesturing towards me) be my guinea pig, because you don't have a partner."
Um....I'm sorry, what is that you just said?
"No....no no no no no....I am not about to be massaged in front of several coupled randos."
Ah, but I was. I propped my pillows in the circle, and leaned down into what my yoga teacher called "child's pose" in high school. And then....then our instructor massaged me, while urging the dads in the circle to do the same for their partners. There was giggling, and some sighs of contentment....and there was me-wishing heartily that I wasn't wearing a dress, and hoping fervently that the massage was meant to be a labor coach's version of a one-night stand; quick, intimacy-less, and did I mention quick? Alas, it went on for a while, before we were sent back to sit down, and the class continued. I shrugged it off after I left, and did not think of it a whole lot more, once I'd relayed the story to Josh and my best friend, who as a fellow not overly touchy sort, expressed her sympathies. Then came last week.
I trekked in with my pillows again, and watched the tail end of a rather mild birthing video. No big deal, I'd seen worse. Then. Ohhh then we were invited once more to the front of the room.
Not knowing how to gracefully say "No thanks, I'd rather not feel like I'm in some yoga adult video but thanks so much!", I flopped my pillows and round self in front of everyone one this time, and proceeded to get my hand massaged. With lotion.
"You get a double dose this time!"
This special treat was because I didn't have a partner, and therefore had no one to massage in turn. So these mostly silent couples watched and massaged their partners, while I got both my hands, lower arms, and neck/shoulders massaged. Good. Lord. No. I sat through it, not even really holding back the face of "Please people...please know that I am not into this." I'll say this much: I was not relaxed, nor will I be requesting any massages in the delivery room! Apparently some Mommies are like that...I am one of them, OH AM I EVER.
So why am I writing this? Well, it's because tonight I have Part 3 of that class. We're supposed to go on a tour of the labor and delivery area, and I can only hope that it's not policy to do elevator massages, or use a hand holding buddy system in the hallways, or form a circle in order to sway/chant to our babies to get some future good vibes going ahead of time while in the birthing area but one never knows! My advice to any future Mommies out there? Either bring a partner, or prepare to get touched. Maybe if I exaggerate my sneezes tonight, I'll be allowed to simply observe...?
Testing, testing...
I had my first suspicion about Baby the way most of us girls do-a particular absence. So, off to the store I went, to buy a test.
"It'll be negative," said Brain-Tina.
"But," I said back to myself, "But what if-?" It was unfathomable, impossible even, but then...that pale pink second line appeared.
So I took the other test that came in the box. Pink/pale pink...to the surprise of no one here, I'm sure!
"It could be a faulty test,"
And with that, back to the store I went, thanking Whoever that it was a CVS with self checkout, least I seem so not together that I routinely bought multiple pregnancy tests throughout my day on a regular basis. (You'll find over time that I worry about perceptions in a way that some (Josh) might call ridiculous). This was to be the second of three boxes of tests I bought, all but one of which I took, resulting in a very questionable collection. (Leave me alone-I put them in a bag, geez). They all came up the same way but in a variety of styles-a second pale pink line, a second pale blue line, the word spelled out in bold-"PREGNANT"-all adding up to me having to find a way to tell Joshua.
Thinking it was no thing to call someone at work and tell them over the phone, I waited until we met up for dinner that night..aaaaand promptly suggested inviting my best friend. Way to stall! I forewent a frozen margharita with dinner, much to her and Josh's confusion, and kept silent re: Baby, until Josh and I got back to where he was living at the time, in Queens. I knew there was nothing for it but to out with it, so looking at him laying next to me I said:
"Sooo I took a pregnancy test today...and then I took a few more....and they all said the same thing."
He looked at me and whispered under his breath-"You're pregnant?" With that, came several weeks of talking about it, waiting to tell family until after a doctor's confirmation, Mother's Day, and a family wedding, and coming to terms with my body no longer enjoying Indian food (sorry, Josh!). The reactions we got ranged from incredibly supportive-people with mean Mothers-In-Law, be jealous-to shocked, to concerned, and one by one, around to supportive and eager to give opinions, advice, and Baby name suggestions.
It was not as simple as I'm making it out to be, and there were many very sober conversations between the two of us during those weeks about how we'd do it, and how committed to doing parenthood right we both were and are, but at the end of the day, we were in love with the idea...and so it was that Josh and Tina were going to have a baby.
Now here we are-in Albany, myself getting more and more round, with each passing day. That's a whole other post though...whoever said pregnancy was beautiful, has never watched me try to get out of bed...
Sunday, November 17, 2013
Tina is reading the Strictly Platonic section of Craigslist to me and laughing like a crazy person!
To be fair, there's some pretty funny stuff up there. She loves reading the ads because, well, nothing on there is strictly platonic. The latest entry was, verbatim: "STRICTLY SEXTING. NO MEETING."
Now she's combining Strictly Platonic with Kanye's latest and greatest: "Don't sext. Don't sext yourself, don't sext anyone you know. Don't sext EVER AGAIN."
Tina is feeling her super-pregnant belly while laughing, and the dog, who loves her very much, is jumping on said belly.
One of these days you'll hear from her, I promise. In the meantime, here's my fave picture of the two of us. I'm the super pale one on the left who looks like he may have just eaten a lemon rind.
Gnight!
- Josh
Now she's combining Strictly Platonic with Kanye's latest and greatest: "Don't sext. Don't sext yourself, don't sext anyone you know. Don't sext EVER AGAIN."
Tina is feeling her super-pregnant belly while laughing, and the dog, who loves her very much, is jumping on said belly.
One of these days you'll hear from her, I promise. In the meantime, here's my fave picture of the two of us. I'm the super pale one on the left who looks like he may have just eaten a lemon rind.
Gnight!
- Josh
Saturday, November 16, 2013
Ahem... Hello!
Well, hello there!
My name is Josh, and this (gestures to the seat to the left, which is empty) is Tina. I'd just like to say I am very disappointed Tina isn't sitting in this chair, and how do you go and explain that?
Actually, Tina is in NYC, eight months pregnant, working one last time for her former employer... watching a kid whom she was a nanny for years and years and years. A little less than a year ago, I met the nanny on a dating website, and then I met her at a bar a couple weeks later - and that was it, I was spoken for.
Three months later, we were pregnant. (Well, Tina was pregnant - I've been mostly wearing a fat suit and kicking myself in the tummy so I can share a tiny bit of what she's going through.) I've never been happier in my life - me and Tina will be married (probably sometime next year - she didn't want to marry with the baby on the way), so I'm totally set with my life partner.
Tina is a very funny chick - an aspiring comedienne, loved by everyone who meets her, and an excellent balance for my anxious, liberal political organizer schtick. I'm a lucky bastard, is I guess what I'm saying.
I yanked her out of living in NYC (no mean feat - I was yanked from the Boroughs at age 7 and I still haven't really gotten over it), and we settled in an apartment in Albany. Right now we're both unemployed (I get that way after elections, and Tina's, well, eight months pregnant). My mom, my dad and my mom's new husband are being super-helpful, and the volunteers and friends I know from the three political campaigns I've done in Albany have been incredible (we have an overflowing room full of baby stuff already, and we hardly spent a penny)!
So we're feeling pretty blessed, and we thought it might be nice to document the birth of our first child through the eyes of two slightly crazy, ADD kids with lots of friends and a decent sense of humor.
I also want to showcase Tina's stuff. I believe you might see, over the next however-long-we-have-this-blog:
- Her staggeringly lifelike stick figure cartoons
- Her Vines, which she mostly does with her and our dog Charlie while I'm out pounding the pavement
- Her schtick in general, which consists of satirical observations on life, the Universe and everything, combined with the willful naivete we both embrace as a way of life
- Me talking her up, because she's kind of faboo
Anyway, that's all I have for now - I'm off to go home, walk the dog, do the dishes and maybe get some work done tonight. In the next entry, either Tina will describe herself, or I'll describe myself - or maybe you'll get an eyeful of stick figure cartoons! It's all in God's hands now.
Love,
- Josh
 |
| The chair in question, looking guilty as hell. |
Actually, Tina is in NYC, eight months pregnant, working one last time for her former employer... watching a kid whom she was a nanny for years and years and years. A little less than a year ago, I met the nanny on a dating website, and then I met her at a bar a couple weeks later - and that was it, I was spoken for.
Three months later, we were pregnant. (Well, Tina was pregnant - I've been mostly wearing a fat suit and kicking myself in the tummy so I can share a tiny bit of what she's going through.) I've never been happier in my life - me and Tina will be married (probably sometime next year - she didn't want to marry with the baby on the way), so I'm totally set with my life partner.
Tina is a very funny chick - an aspiring comedienne, loved by everyone who meets her, and an excellent balance for my anxious, liberal political organizer schtick. I'm a lucky bastard, is I guess what I'm saying.
I yanked her out of living in NYC (no mean feat - I was yanked from the Boroughs at age 7 and I still haven't really gotten over it), and we settled in an apartment in Albany. Right now we're both unemployed (I get that way after elections, and Tina's, well, eight months pregnant). My mom, my dad and my mom's new husband are being super-helpful, and the volunteers and friends I know from the three political campaigns I've done in Albany have been incredible (we have an overflowing room full of baby stuff already, and we hardly spent a penny)!
So we're feeling pretty blessed, and we thought it might be nice to document the birth of our first child through the eyes of two slightly crazy, ADD kids with lots of friends and a decent sense of humor.
I also want to showcase Tina's stuff. I believe you might see, over the next however-long-we-have-this-blog:
- Her staggeringly lifelike stick figure cartoons
- Her Vines, which she mostly does with her and our dog Charlie while I'm out pounding the pavement
- Her schtick in general, which consists of satirical observations on life, the Universe and everything, combined with the willful naivete we both embrace as a way of life
- Me talking her up, because she's kind of faboo
Anyway, that's all I have for now - I'm off to go home, walk the dog, do the dishes and maybe get some work done tonight. In the next entry, either Tina will describe herself, or I'll describe myself - or maybe you'll get an eyeful of stick figure cartoons! It's all in God's hands now.
Love,
- Josh
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