it's hard to concentrate with a teething six-month-old rolling around on the floor. i wish it were easier, but nothing really works. and please, don't think i'm being insensitive or a bad mom - i'm just trying to find a little, tiny piece of me again.
is it possible to have an identity crisis at 27? actually, ignore that question - it's totally possible to have an identity crisis at any age, i guess. i'm just getting so close to the whole mid-life-crisis-phase-age i think i'm getting paranoid.
this weekend, i'm going shopping. i'm in desperate need of new clothes. i think i need to get in touch with me again. i feel so out of touch lately - so un-hip. so un-creative. so old... i wonder if this is actually the way i am now. i wonder if this is who i am... i look back at old pictures and old things i've written and wonder where that girl could've gone. she was too bright to just burn out - too big to dissapear.
if this is who i've become, then it's not an entirely bad thing. i mean, i'm a mom now. and frankly, i'm finding that i'm pretty good at it. i mean, my son seems to think so at least...
i hope this passes soon...

sometimes, i feel like i missed out on a lot of things in my life. i watched "vicky, christina, barcelona" yesterday (which, by the way, does not warrant any of the awards buzz it's received) and it really made me think why my life took the path it did. is everything really pre-determined? or are you, in fact, the maker of your own destiny? i would have gone to spain in a heartbeat when i was younger. my niece went there on exchange, and i applaud her for it. she saw a part of the world i probably never will, and for some reason, i think she's better for it. she wasn't scared (ok, maybe she was a little bit at first), and she jumped in head-first. me, on the other hand, was supposed to be impulsive and impetuous in my teenage years and early twenties. i,on the other hand, did nothing but languish in the same town i grew up in, moved in with the same boyfriend i dated in high school, and continued to do the same things i always did. back then, i probably thought i didn't have the resources i needed to make it that far. now unfortunately, i know i did. i could have made it to spain (or anywhere, for that matter) on a wish and a prayer - i was young, pretty, and vivacious. the world was my oyster-tapas...
now, as i look back, i do so with a smidgen of regret. what would i have seen? where would i be now? who would i be now? only with a smidgen, though. my son (who has probably inadvertently contributed to some of this wanderlust) makes me want to dig deep roots and nestle into the dirt like we snuggle into our bed at night. there are thing i know i'll never get to experience again - but there are thing everybody's missed out on. life only gives you so many windows to climb in (or in my case, fences to jump as i did much more of that in my formidable years). once those windows are closed, that's it - you can't go back.
i know this all seems kind of depressing, and to be frank, well, it is. but i'm learning there are so many other things to make me smile; i can't always dwell on the ones that make me sad.
everyday, joey learns something new. everyday, he experiences something for the first time. it's wonderful and beautiful and scary, all at the same time. it's hard for me to believe in a few years, he won;t want to snuggle or be held anymore. and a few years after that, he may actually go to spain... i certainly won't stop him. i hope i don't try to live vicariously through him; i'm sure though, if he's anything like his mother, he'll have his very own set of dreams, ideals and plans. and i'm sure many of those will fall through and be crushed as well. that saddens me immensely, but i'm beginning to think that life isn't always about the triumphs and successes - it's more about the heartaches and letdowns. those are the things that have shaped who i am, and those strengths are the ones i hope to pass on to my son more than any others i possess... impulsiveness and impetuosity are probably inherited, but real fortitude is something that has to be learned.
luckily, i have my son to teach me...

another year... i can't believe i've been writing this blog (however unfaithfully) for almost three years now... it seems like yesterday (however cliched-sounding) i was in tanna's living room on forest writing my first entry. joe and i weren't even married then! we didn't have any idea what was in the works for us...
i guess i'll start off saying 2008 was a pretty heavy year. july brought more than the typical southwestern ontario humidity - it brought my son into my life. honestly - never in a million, billion years did i think my life would have changed as drastically as it did. and i never would have thought all of the things i swore i would never do are exactly the things i do most. for example - joey sleeps beside me every night. i visit a chiropractor now because i have issues with my right side. well, technically speaking, i've had issues with my right side for awhile now - well before joey was even a twinkle in my eye. they've just become severely aggravated due to the fact that i can't roll over or pretty much even move anymore at night. this, though, is fine by me. i'm pretty sure he may be able to sleep in his crib (he's passed out on top of the covers on our bed right now after falling asleep on me on the couch - if i had put him in his crib, he might not have been the wiser). i just don't know if i could handle waking up without him beside me anymore. i know i'll have to eventually, and god (and pretty much everyone else) knows our house isn't exactly a mansion - it's not like he'd be in a different wing or anything. no matter how much my back hurts, and no matter how much i complain, i love feeling his snug, warm little body dreaming under my hand.
i also have a very hard time leaving him - anywhere. if he winds up with a terrible case of separation anxiety, i'll be the one to blame. i pull his bassinet into the bathroom after me when i have a shower, and i carry him to the laundry room when i change loads. he sits with me on the couch, and he checks my emails with me every morning. when i'm away from him i actually get anxious. i mean very anxious. at least, i did the three times i was apart from him for more than an hour... did i mention he's six months this friday?
if he, for some miraculous grace of god, doesn't suffer from separation disorders, his mother most definitely will. which is something else i guess i'll just have to deal with.
expecting to drop to a size eight immediately after delivering might have been a little lofty. i have yet to lose the rest of my pregnancy weight (which i guess it ok since my boobs are huge because i'm still breastfeeding - the only thing i actually intended on doing - and they, thankfully, off-set my belly) though, and this was another one of my intended goals before 2009 kicked off.
on another note, though, i am a blonde again...
in all actuality, i probably wouldn't really change a thing. i know i should be getting out a lot more, and i know i should be dropping the hammer a bit more on joe to start watching the boy so i can - it's just hard. i know it's not one of those things that's going to get easier as he gets older either - i'm sitting dangerously close on the edge of over-protectiveness and shut-in and at this point, it doesn't matter which way i fall - i'm going to end up kind of like like jimmy stewart in rear window (and joey will probably end up like bates)... i just have to try and step back.
so, for 2009, i don't really have any actual resolutions. i don't smoke anymore, i hardly ever drink, and losing weight will probably be inevitable when i give up breastfeeding. i know i have to let go of a lot of anxiety (like what i'm going to do in six months when my maternity leave runs out) and i'll have to start getting out more. but those things can come with time...
this was supposed to be a lot more in depth - it was supposed to be a lot more fluent too... that may come back to me as well...

this seems to be a prevailing topic in this blog...

losing a friend is hard... especially when you still see that friend and you both still try to play the part as friends. when you see that friend interacting with her real (newer) friends in a way she hasn't acted with you in ages, a piece of you kind of steps back and withdraws just a bit more than before.
joe says i "go through a lot of friends"... like they're disposable or something. believe me - i don't feel that way at all. at least i don't think i do... honestly though, i don't really have any friends (that i see and talk to on a regular basis) i've been close with for more than a few years (unless you count aforementioned friend), and i wish i knew why. is it something i do? is it the friends i pick? or is it just that i pick friends that always seem to take a different path than i choose? when i first become friends with someone, we always share so many (albeit silly and trivial) similarities it's scary. but as the friendship progresses, one of us always has a hard time getting over our differences. take, for example, the current situation i'm in. this friend is one of the most admirable people i know - money conscious, thrifty, driven, and constantly in control. i am none of these things - none at all... well, i'm getting a bit more thrifty, but maybe that's just because i have less to spend - who knows? anyways, this friend and i have been through some tough times together over the ten-or-so years we've been close. not as many and not as serious times as some people (i'm also no longer friends with, mind you), but enough to fill a book... well, a novella at least... and now, things seem to be changing. once i started to lose the person i was before (the person she was the complete polar opposite of), we started to drift apart. our phone calls started to become less and less frequent (and shorter each time), we stopped dropping-by each other's homes, and we began to spend time that used to be alloted to us with others. this happens, i know. but the question remains - why so frequently to me? am i the one who always changes, unavoidably becoming the reason for the dissolution of the relationship, or is it something else? can i not accept someone else's change? i'm not sure, and i don't think i ever will be... all i know is the friendship that brought this post about (which also kept me up half the night) is dear to me - i care deeply about this person, but have we both changed too much to really connect the way we once did? or maybe we never really even connected on a level i thought we did - maybe we were friends of convenience - our friends were friends, so why shouldn't we be? i don't think i'll ever know the answer to that one either. but when she talks to me the way she used to address one of our mutual (and now no longer) friends, i know something must be up. i wonder if i use the same tone with her - if, when she goes home, she feels it too. she always seems so... annoyed with me and with the path i decided to choose. i can't even remember the last time we really had fun together... we just keep trying... not to keep up appearances or anything - we're both above that - but because i think we both feel new friends are very different from the ones you've spent ten-plus years with. new friends may become those friends, but you'll never get those original ten years back.
lately, i've been thinking that friendships are more complicated than physical, romantic relationships. i (mostly) know where i stand with joe. he needs me - deeply and truly. sometimes, it becomes annoying and almost burden-like, but a good burden nonetheless. i appreciate that he looks to me for guidance and strength (not so much to pick up his socks, but hey - gotta take the good with the bad, eh?), and appreciate the feelingof being needed so deeply. maybe that's the problem, though - if a friendship is built on need, what happens when that friend (inevitably) finds someone else to fill that void? there's just not enough room left in their life.
people change, i guess. it's sad, but, ultimately, something i'll just have to deal with more and more as i get older and change myself... as for the friendship in question, i'll just have to wait and see what transpires i guess...

forcing myself to write again... how sad...
so - the other day while watching television, i almost threw-up. not out of the blue or anything - it was a direct result of a commercial i saw. sexyobamashirts.com... nothing says classy like rhinestones on your tits... unless you're supporting your favourite new reason for voting. i'm not sure why i even care so much... i mean, i'm canadian. i realize american politics has a huge impact on our economy and lives, but honestly, i didn't even vote in our election (i know - it's terrible. i should have voted if only for the opportunity to actually have a reason to complain about our government, but c'mon... with our archaic and asinine "selection" process, what's the fucking point? one vote doesn't count a lick in canada, and we all know it...)! i guess one of the factors is i have an american free-to-air satellite dish and watch american television all the time... the only time i ever see the ctv symbol is when i have to download episodes of lost. honestly, i miss it, but free tv is too much to pass up. one day, i'll get another dish so i can watch the new pl or whatever it is now, but until then, i'll slowly keep absorbing american media the way the states are trying to absorb canada...
anyways - back on topic... this commercial disgusted me! that, along with the fact it was on mtv. sure, mtv should be teaching empowerment and that it's cool to vote - ask the plethora of stards (that's what i've taken to calling them...) who attend all those freakin' million-dollar galas to endorse their favourite candidates... really? what does a bedazzled shirt have to do with an election? i may be tarred and feathered for saying this, but was obama really the one for the job? without getting all metaphorical (well, technically all simile-like), i think he's a lot like these t-shirts - flashy, trendy and distracting. it's not like i'm a mccain supporter either - personally, i think he's a little old and maybe a titch crazy. even my dad, who probably shed a tear when heston died, didn't like him. he said he was "baby killer" due to his involvement in the vietnam war... it's weird when our parents surprise us... but at the same time, he felt the same way i did about obama - is he really experienced enough to clean up someone else's mess? especially one as big as the one that was left for him? i know everyone wants change, but do they really expect a big enough change to warrant skanky t-shirts? who knows...
on a different note - i recently heard some disturbing news about a couple i know. this news could be potentially devastating to their relationship if it's true. so, should i tell them what i heard? that question remains to be answered because, as we all know, not everyone is rational. even if what i heard isn't true, it could still possibly end the relationship. but... if i was one of the people involved, i would at least w2ant to know what was being said about me - wouldn't i? tough questions... should i tell them? would you want to know? would you shoot the messenger? is it worth being a messenger?
the politics of everyday life are so much more complex than so-called "real" politics... i wonder if there's a t-shirt for this...

i wish someone could tell me when writing became a chore for me. i know it's something that, if i want to continue doing, and if i want to get better at, i'll have to do it more. i need to practice. it used to be so easy - i wanted to write constantly. i would write on napkins, receipts, nearly anything i could leave legible scratches on... now i have to set aside time, and it feels like i have to force myself. can anyone ever really be good at anything they have to make themselves do? i hope so... i used to be good...
anyways, taking the advice of a dear friends who's also been suffering a slight blockage (or was the last time i asked...), i've decided to write like a seinfeld episode - i'm going to write about, well, nothing (hopefully a bit more entertaining, but we'll see). it's pretty much all i've got anymore. all of the angst i used to hold has pretty much left along with the size ones and short shirts of my youth. oh well...
my days are never really eventful anymore - i get excited with small things like when someone stops by or when i can browse ebay. i can't complain, though - i know others are far worse off than i am.
my son is swinging in his ocean wonder's swing, and i'm listening to sirius coffee house instead of the typical afternoon drivel that's on tv. a song by some guy named ray lamontagne is on. he sounds like a cross between jamie walters (you know? that guy from 90210 who hit donna?) and frankie valli. not bad. this channel is normally quite interesting - a massive mix of often acceptable songs. but when something like edie brickell and the new bohemians comes on (i'm sure if you google them you'll find their only song that made it anywhere.. and probably feel slightly nauseated like i do right now..._), i'm always forced to change it. normally to faction - hip-hop, punk and rock. and i always catch the last chord of a song i would have much rather been listening to. today is no exception - the gaslight anthem - the '59 sound. even though it IS satellite radio, it feels strange to actually admit i like music that gets airplay. i never noticed how much of a musical elitist i used to be - i mean, maybe the reason some songs get airplay is because they're actually good... who knew, eh? and along comes "thrash unreal"... other than the fact she's a junkie (well, and not married and a few other things...), i get this song more than ever now... how do you let go of something that was never tangible in the first place? i look at all these young kids running around with their pink and blue hair and wonder if their parents paid for the salon appointment and wonder if they got their shirts from hot topic or h&m... i feel so old and jaded now - things were harder when i was young. i remember dying my hair with kool-aid and having to dig through thrift stores for my clothes. what are kids these days relating to? that's what it was all about - i was different because it was hard. now they all think they're individuals, but honestly, i couldn't pick my own nephew out of line-up now... tight jeans, long bangs, "vintage" concert shirts. why not just buy a uniform? and do bands like rise against realize what their anthems are fueling now? fuck... i hope not...
how did i get so jaded?
this was an incredibly pointless rant... i think i should kill it now...

it's been four months now. i'm a mother... there is no possible way i ever could have imagined how much things would change - how priorities would shift, how friendships would begin to fail, and how feelings would begin to falter. believe me - things have changed...
it's also been almost a year since i've drank or smoked. i kind of feel like a recovering addict - like i have a cross to bear and a badge to prove it. it's a strange combination of pride and loss. by that i mean i think i miss drinking and smoking - or possibly, i just miss the socialization that comes along with them - but i'm proud i no longer drag those crutches. it's nice to not have to go outside in the rain or cold to placate my nicotine addiction. at the same time though, there's nothing like sitting under a tree watching the breeze carry your exhaled smoke off...
on the other hand, i wouldn't give what i have now up for any vice in the world.
fuck! i can't write anymore!
i'm still a contradiction.
i am a proud mother - pride is so close to competition. i'm amazed and scared by the carnal feelings of pride that swell inside of me every time i realize joey has completed a "milestone" before another child his age or when he outgrows something. it means he's progressing, and i like to think i had something to do with it. i am so protective over him. i feel connected to the mother lions i watch on national geographic when they see their cubs rip apart a kill for the first time.
motherhood is scary. it's very easy to let feelings of isolation sink in. i tell joe daily i need to get out - that he needs to develop confidence in himself so he can watch joey so i can get away for a bit. i am with him 24-hours a day - seriously. i sleep with him curled up beside me. i can feel every one of his breaths, and when he stirs, i wake instantly. motherhood seems primal to me - i can imagine cave women carrying their babies close to their breasts and shielding them from the wind with their strong arms... i imagine her with my face...
regardless, it's nearly impossible for me to leave him. i have replaced cigarettes and beer with my son.
leesha thinks i use him as an excuse. an excuse for what, i'm not sure. an excuse for the fact that i have problems being myself without clouding my personality with intoxicants? i'm not sure.
sara thinks it's a control thing. to elaborate a bit on her theory, everything i wanted as a mother and envisioned before he was born has not come to fruition. joey was going to be on a schedule i created. we were going to be a parent-led family. he was going to sleep in a crib, and i was going to continue to read books and not panic when he coughs. none of that has happened. my world revolves around him, and honestly, that scares me the most. my world has never revolved around anyone except me. previously, i was one of the most egotistical, selfish people i knew. now, my biggest fear is not being good enough for a three-month old.
i've realized recently how opinionated i really am - how condescending i seem sometimes. i look at other mothers and critique them in my head. i know i shouldn't be as i've only been doing this for three months, but i do. maybe that scares me a bit - i think they may be able to feel my scorn, but most of them wouldn't care. see? there i go again...
so whether or not joe feels competent enough to stay home with him, i think i would feel like i'm letting joey down by leaving him. another theory i've deduced it that i'm slowly losing what's left of my identity. for nine months, i felt like i was "the pregnant one". now, i'm the "mom". this is still something that, no matter how much i love my son, is still had for me to grasp. i am a mother. i am not the skinny, drunk hot chick anymore. i'm not the smart, biting, cynical pessimist anymore. i am a mother. i want a minivan because it's practical.
there are still things i want - i still want to sing in a band - i miss singing. i still want to write a novel (or at least a competent blog entry). these things, though, feel unattainable. how can i be a mom in a band? i can't even be away from him!
i hope it's not postpartum. that sounds like a bad word - especially to me. i've had enough mental-instability issues in the past - i don't want one hanging around when i'm changing diapers.
joe is off again - hunting. he doesn't go out half as much as he used to, but it's still hard. i like having people around me - grown-up people. i feel like i'm losing myself sometimes, but when i look at him, it's worth it. i would give up every ounce of my personality just to have him smile at me once.
i am a mother...

wow... it's been awhile...
anyone who reads this would obviously know junior is fine now... from my last post, it appeared something was terribly wrong. well, i guess i was being a little paranoid (which is normal for me...). it's just good to know everything is ok with the little guy. well, i mean, as far as i know. i still get unnecessarily paranoid, but as things stand right now, he's good.
i think the reason i worry so much is because everything for me always seems to be such a struggle, why on earth should anything ever happen without a hitch?
this will probably be my last post before junior is born... according to my "edd" ("estimated due date" - one of the many wonderful acronyms i've learned since conception), i only have 15 day left. so, if all goes according to plan, i'll be a mother in 15 days. unnerving? very much so... whenever i'm in wal-mart and i hear someone's screaming brat, my ire rises and i feel awful! i mean, shouldn't i be sympathizing or something? shouldn't i understand? all i get out of the whole situation is a strong desire for a stiff drink...
what if i'm not matronly? what if i'm not cut out for all this mommy stuff? it all seemed like such a good idea at the time... sure, i liked kids! i liked playing with them, i liked buying them presents, i liked taking them fun places... but at the end of the day, i was never really responsible for molding them into contributing members of society.
i look at other parents i know and wonder to myself how i could be any worse than they are... i mean, some people should just not be allowed to breed. but, what if i'm one of those people? and i'm sure someone reading this will come back with "well, if you weren't sufficiently matronly or motherly, you wouldn't be having these concerns! you'll be a great mother!" i've heard that about 72,650,523 times in the past nine months, and as of yet, it hasn't done anything but put me off even more. i mean, that is something a mother would say! so, in a sense, i still need to be mothered! and how good is that going to work out?
i've started to wonder what he's going to be like. is he going to have an imagination? is that something that can be cultured, or does he have to be born with it? will he become resentful of me as he ages? will he be able to write? will he pick good friends and influences? and, most importantly, will he be colicky?
it's strange - like, if he was a girl, shaping her into something i want seems easier. i know you're not supposed to live vicariously through your children, but that in itself seems difficult.
in general, it's all so fucking scary...
the truth is, i'm not very good with real change. dying and cutting my hair so i look like a totally different person - love it. driving someone else's car - great experience. new job - bring it on. totally changing every aspect of my life for the rest of eternity- maybe a little extreme for my taste.
i guess there's no going back now, though, which is probably the best thing that could veer happen to me.
everyone keeps asking me "are you ready for the baby?" really? ready? am i ever going to be ready for the baby? his room is painted, the crib is assembled, my hospital bag is packed (well, almost), and we have a complete name chosen. other than the whole mental-preparedness-thing, i'm totally set! thanks for asking!
the dogs have taken to hanging out in his room - it's very endearing, like they're waiting for him. i'm sure they're much more prepared than i am...

dear baby,

i'm scared to call you "junior" now - i'm afraid i may jinx something...
i wish it were me instead of you. i wish i hadn't gotten so comfortable - every time i do, everything that's even a little pragmatic about me is thrown out the window. i start day-dreaming, i can actually write again, i get happy. and frankly, it's easier being a realist. when you're happy, things can only get worse - true story...
your mom's just graduated to full-out pessimist i think...
for people who actually read this tripe, i guess i should fill you in - something is wrong with the baby. something "common" apparently. honestly, though, what the fuck does "common" mean these days anyways? i mean, one in a little over one-hundred children is autistic to some degree. alcoholism and cancer are running rampant, and when thalidomide was all the rage, how many babies were born with flippers? how is the term "common" supposed to make me feel better?
regardless, the "common" condition i'm a tad worried about is enlarged kidneys. my unborn son's enlarged kidneys, to be exact... i'm never really good with the term "don't panic"... the guide would be useless to me (douglas adams, for those who didn't get that reference). normally, when i hear anything even remotely related to "don't worry", i kind of go the other way too. call it silly, say i over-react, call it fucking rebellion if you want - it's just what i do. it's probably all of those great things i re-acquire when i finally stop worrying and get comfortable... damn you, overactive right-side-of-brain...
so anyways, i was getting ready for work. it seemed like it was going to be a normal day filled with people fawning over my cute pregnant belly, eating until junior lets me stop, and taking calls from stupid americans just so i can get my hours in to go on mat leave in about two months. i looked at the phone and noticed my midwife's office called yesterday. i don't have my next appointment scheduled until the middle of april, so i called joe to see if they left a message and he just forgot to tell me. of course, i was upset he didn't even mention they called, but whatever - i would get over it. as i was talking to him and found out they didn't leave a message, i got a bit worried. a change in appointment means "message". a "hi, april! it's me, isabelle! i'm back now!" means "message". in turn, a call that results in no message normally means "i have something bad to tell you so i'm going to wait till i can talk to you personally - or atleast over the phone". i got progressively upset. my voice got higher, i got a little bit angrier (ok, probably a lot angrier, but hey, i'm pregnant) - during my last visit, my fill-in midwife, allison, advised me that unless something was wrong (after also informing me that all the results they've received so far looked good - "but that doesn't mean the baby doesn't have down's or spinabifida"... i think she's a people person...), i would not get a call. this was specified about three times - i WILL NOT get called UNLESS something is wrong.
hey - have a gun lying around? if so, i'm going to jump it...
almost having to empty my lunch bag to wheeze into, i hung up with my poor, unsuspecting husband and dialed my midwife's office. no one answered. not sure how anyone else's issues could be more pressing than my own, i called back - about six times repeatedly - until the new receptionist answered the phone. i had heard from a few people about the local midwife's (as well as their staff's) incompetencies, and experienced some of it for myself already. i wasn't really in the mood to deal with a woman who seemed only slightly smarter than the lunch bag sitting on my counter. i had to, though, and was not impressed by what she told me.
"hmmmmm, april... i'm not sure why anyone called you! let me get your chart..."
she put me on hold for a total of four beeps, and came back on the line with "ok... for some reason, your chart was in isabelle's (permanent midwife) office..." (gasp! i removed my pb and j sandwich from my lunch bag in preparation) "let me see here... well, i don't see anything wrong with your chart..."
"ummm, yvette?" i asked. my voice was just on the verge of being shaky at this point... i took out my cookies for good measure. "are you a midwife? i mean, not to be rude, but is there someone else there i could talk to? allison (fill-in midwife) told me unless something was wrong, NO ONE WOULD CALL ME. and i know someone called me... soooooo, i mean, i'm not a midwife, but that could probably mean that something is wrong and that i should probably talk to someone..."
clearing her throat, yvette responded in her best "i know i'm not a midwife either, but i do answer the phone (occasionally) in a midwife's office" voice - "well, isabelle's not in until noon... maybe you should page her..."
remove water, kool-aid packets, granola bars, and pudding...
"i should WHAT?"
"well, page her, hon... you sound worried - i don't think anything is wrong, but you should page her just to make sure."
in my book, "just to make sure" is a synonym for "don't panic!", which, in turn, is the description for "don't worry".
i don't even think i said good-bye to the new recipient of april's "foul-up of the year due to complete, utter incompetence" award... i think i told her i would call back in a few minutes, grabbed my lunch bag, and tried to breathe... that's kind of what i remember... i didn't faint or anything, but i started coughing and couldn't stop. i called joe - he told me to call in sick to work (that's how i knew he was worried...), stop by the shop (ok, maybe not worried - maybe developing generalized anxiety disorder...), and to page isabelle. i think i hung up on him, too... i called the automated sick-line, swore at it for a few minutes, exhaled into my bag a few hundred times, kicked my cupboards, and finally received my "confirmation number"... i felt like i just paid a bill or signed up for something... oh well...
i then called my midwife's office back.
as soon as i told yvette my name, i heard "ALLISON! IT'S APRIL!" by now, my bag is breathing on it's own... i am very proud to say i may have saved a life today - or created a new one... "oh, hi hon!" LIKE NOTHING IS WRONG! how-the-fuck-dare-she??
i think she could feel the seething through the phone and instantly put me on hold after quickly spurting "allison's here and she's gonna talk to you!"
two more beeps...
"april!" allison always has a way of talking that makes me feel like she doesn't like me. well, not so much like she doesn't like me - more in a sense that if i were a bug, she would step on me an relish in the sound of my shell crunching underneath her shoe... "you have NOTHING TO WORRY ABOUT! DON'T PANIC!" if anybody should understand the whole "don't panic!" thing, it should be her! i mean, wasn't douglas adam's british? if not, i know arthur is! allison is british - there should be some sort of connection there...
time to get a new bag...
"your baby has an enlarged kidney... possibly both. it's completely common, not really an indicator for anything to be too worried about, and you shouldn't be so upset. we're going to schedule a follow-up ultrasound in about four weeks, so just calm down!"
oh yeah - i forgot to mention what "calm down" does to me - the reaction is a little bit more explosive than that to "don't panic!", which is akin to "don't worry"... i'm sure you get the picture by now... and i will warn you, the slightly-more "explosive" response that phrase elicits is a bit-more-than-slightly louder...
"A WHAT?!?! 'FOLLOW-UP' ULTRASOUND?!? WHAT, ALLISON, ARE WE EXACTLY 'FOLLOWING-UP' ON IF IT'S SOOOOOO COMMON AND 'NOT REALLY AN INDICATOR FOR ANYTHING TO BE TOO WORRIED ABOUT'?" i think i yelled for a few more minutes, because my throat still hurts... it's been two hours... so yeah, at least a couple of minutes...
like i said earlier, allison is a "people person" - "CALM DOWN!"
this was definitely not going anywhere even remotely near "good"...
so, after hanging up (i'm sure i said "bye" this time. even though she's not exactly nice, she does scare me - a lot...), i googled "enlarged kidneys in ultrasounds". common - yes... but for fuck's sake - there's a goddamn rapper named "common!
anyways, it can be a "soft marker" (whatever that means...) for down's syndrome, it can cause frequent bladder infections, it can be severe to the point that the baby may need surgery immediately after birth to correct the problem, and it could be nothing. it is also far more common in boys...
how ironic would it be if i killed an optimist to steal their soul? i mean, the optimist would still have to be murdered, but how could they possibly rationalize their death being a good thing? i could rationalize it, but i'm not the optimist... yet...
someone asked me a few days ago if, when i was writing my blog last july, the thought that i would have a child a year later had ever occurred to me. honestly, at the time, it hadn't. if someone were to ask me now, though, if the thought that in a year from now, i wouldn't have a child had ever occurred to me, i would probably punch them. or, just get frankenbag to carry out the hit...

baby, i don't like being scared for you... i honestly never thought i would grow so attached. that probably sounds terrible, but it's true. i feel a bit better now that i wrote all of this down - i think i put it in perspective...

i'm going to be an optimist (if only for a minute) - everything is going to be ok... i promise...

i love you, junior...

i've come to a decision - i am no longer living my life for moments; i'm going to live it through them.
i'm not going to wait for moments to happen, and i'm not going to expect them to either. all because of a song...
i started a book club because i wanted to be "moved" again. i think i had forgotten about music... sometimes, you hear a song that forces you to relate, forces you to listen. a song that almost makes you get into an accident when you're driving... if i could do anything in the world, it would be to write one song that makes just one person feel that...
it's hard to find someone who can relate to that feeling. i mean, i have friends who like music, but i don't have many friends who love it... i don't have many friends who cry because of lyrics...
one line in one song i had heard a million times before sums it up pretty well - "and the four right chords can make me cry". as sad as it is, the singer of said band has used his mediocre star-power to bed lots and lots of hollywood ass, but hey, we can't all be sincere...
i wish i could still write all the time... i wish i didn't have to fight to turn it on... it's painful for me to hear someone sing when i just know their eyes are closed...
i've also come to the realization that i'm selfish. not "i sometimes take the last piece of candy" selfish - like seriously selfish. i want things to be about me, or sometimes, it's hard for me to listen. that's pretty honest and bare, but it's true. it's also kind of scary to realize, especially when i'm in the process of being a mother. am i going to continue to be so fucking self-centered, or will i change? and that poses a whole new mess to think about - how can i continue being myself if i have to change that one, huge part of me? because i'm sure it's not something that's come up in the past few years - i'm pretty sure i've always been happiest when the world revolves around my new t-shirt...
that could possibly be why i'm having so many problems adjusting to life lately. i met a girl at work (well, not really "met", i knew her from years ago) who remembered me from high school. too bad she remembered me as a collective... i mean, it's been almost 10 years (god! it has been a long time!). is that how people remember him? probably not... why does my celebrity status have to be encumbered by his? what-the-fuck-ever... honestly, i feel badly for joe... we've been married for almost two years, together for almost seven, and all people can remember is that i dated some guy who sings in a fucking band now...
passion is over-rated anyways... i think... or maybe it can be expressed in different levels... i've never thought of it like that. i've always been so over-the-top with everything i've ever felt anything for that maybe i've missed too many subtleties... that probably goes hand-in-hand with being self-involved, i guess...
so, to answer your question, i'm definitely both... i coined the term - i make the rules... let me have this one, ok?

in regards to your question -
i'm not sure...
i am sure, though,
that i have been both
happily...
once,
when i was idealistic and loved
pretty boys
with guitars,
i saw life in breezes and sun rays...
i saw hope in creek currents
and had pieces of joy
caught in my hair with the dandelion seeds...
i was moved
constantly
stirred by the slightest smile.
now,
i stumble over concrete curbs
and watch my reflection
waver in puddles.
a part of me
was stolen
by those warm, fragrant breezes...
sometimes, though,
i can still see her
when i look at the sun
through my eyelashes...

i believe
everyone has a choice...
you can either be the needer
or the feeder...
make a decision.

twenty-five minutes until "lost" starts, so i'm left with some time to kill. i'm sure there's a plethora of mind-numbing shows on tv, but i already have enough fears of losing my intelligence and creativity - no need to fan the flames.
top things i want to understand in the near future:
1. the need to be desired. i'm actually sure i am desired. joe tells me everyday how beautiful i am, and i can still look in the mirror and see that my eyes are still that slightly alarming shade of green they've always been. maybe it's just i don't see myself the way i used to... essentially, i just feel fat and dumpy. all of the weight i intended to lose last year at this time has compounded into this lump on my stomach. all of the clothes i wanted to save because one day, i would fit into them again were snatched-up by eager friends or donated...
self-esteem is so fickle... i probably shouldn't care that i'm getting fat. i shouldn't care that even my damn fingers seem like sausages, and i shouldn't care that my breasts are only going to get saggier... what i should be caring about is maintaining a healthy level of emotional stability because it's "good for the baby"... honestly, though, it doesn't even feel like i'm pregnant... it feels like i'm turning into a blimp...
why is it so important for me to be attractive? i mean, what would life had been like if i was never even remotely attractive? i'm sure i'd still be breathing... hell - i might even be happier than i am now! if i didn't have something to compare it to, i wouldn't have something to complain about...
i always have to be the best - the smartest, the prettiest, the most intriguing... the most, well, everything...
i guess i should've given myself more time to compile this list...

dear baby,
i just read some very disturbing news about the toronto district school board (i know, i know - we don't live in toronto and we probably never will. but because of the suave sophistication and malls, what happens there has a very strong impact on the rest of ontario - mainly us) - they decided to open a "black-focused" school. seriously? i don't get it... because there's a higher drop-out rate for black students? because we need to curb their desires to be gansta', and the best way to do this is by segregation? oh wait - i get it! by putting all the black kids in one school, they'll all either lose their desire to be rap superstars and turn white (even though they're not even around white students anymore...), or they'll just kill themselves off with drive-bys and crack! why, oh why would any educated black person want to be segregated? if the tdsb thinks the presence of gangs is too high now, just wait and see what'll eventually (and probably soon) go down. schools already post signs saying "no colours". there are already metal detectors in entryways. there is already and overabundance of gang violence in all our communities. why add fuel to the fire?
and let's all take a stab (no pun intended, my homies) at where the funds will be appropriated from for this venture. i mean, we all know there's not a surplus or anything like that - we live in ontario, for christ's sake! alberta, maybe, but definitely not ontario... my guess? from the people that have the hardest time defending themselves, and from the ones who need it the most - the handicapped. my brother (and your uncle) is now 25-years-old. and for the past, oh, 25-years, your family has been witness to possibly the most disgusting displays of government ignorance ever (well, probably not ever, i'm sure there's been worse, and there's always tomorrow to look forward to!). see, people like your uncle need assistance. they need people to help them - they're not just looking for hand-outs. i've seen more budget cuts, cut-backs, and funding cuts than suge knight's seen warrants... it's been sad, of course. but if funds from people who truly need them are being directly siphoned (ok, blatently for a change) to fund something those involved with don't even care about, well, it makes me sick. most of the people who should benefit from the school probably won't even care! they probably won't even go! the implications to my brother, though, will be devastating.
one good thing that could possibly come of this is there may be less upper-middle class white brats acting ghetto... that would be a definite plus in my books. but unless they contain rap city and 50cent cds to these new geared-to-colour institutions, well, the wannabe white kids will still wannabe black! you know, of all the races that have been discriminated against in the past, why the blacks? is it because they can dance? because most of them can carry a tune? or because most of them are perceived to be carrying a gun or the keys to a stolen whip with phat dubs (or something like that...)? could it be because ebonics are cool? i mean, the jews have their own language, style (yarmukles, anyone?), even their own holidays! and if you want to talk about persecution, well, i realize being hung from a tree must've sucked - a lot - but c'mon, being taken from your home and family, nearly starved to death, then, tricked into "taking a shower", only to be gassed? the kkk was awful, that's certain... but where do you think they derived their ideals? and the nazis could've kicked their white-robed asses (if they weren't technically on the same side, i guess...)! a rap about being shoveled into a huge hole with thousands of dead people would be way more powerful than, say, one about having to sling crack on the corner to buy new rims...
and i'm sure if more people than my immediate friends read this, the assumption may be made that i'm crossing the line a bit. maybe i am, but honestly, i'm tired of all this ghetto-gansta-i'm-better-than-you-because-i-had-to-hustle-to-buy-this-$400-jacket-shit! it's a joke! i mean, get an education, get a job, get a mortgage on a goddamn three-bedroom because you'll never make it big pushin' rhymes like weight... i've had to let go of my aspirations of grandeur - you all should too! a separatist attitude isn't going to change any of the ghetto-fab kid's outlook - it will only promote it. and besides, where will our kids learn to dance? you can only learn so much from rap city... and frankly, mtv doesn't even play videos anymore...

when did life become all about making money and being comfortable? i know it was before i even got pregnant, but now it just seems more apparent...
i mean, i would love to be able to write as a profession. i wish i still had inspiration to write, but that's besides the point. see, the only way i could really stay home and write was if it could make me a decent living - if it could pay the bills and help support my family.
when did everything become so complicated? i think that's why i lost my inspiration in the first place - it's hard to just write for the enjoyment of writing. it seems almost fruitless unless i'm working on what could one day (hopefully while i'm still alive) become a best-seller...
why, oh why, is idealism lost right around the same time innocence is?

dear baby (part two of probably many),

dear baby,
i wanted to know that you've managed to keep things exciting (if "stressful" and "exciting" are synonyms...).since the last emergency room soirée was so enjoyable, i decided to return for an encore two weeks later. i thought i was leaking amniotic fluid, and that you were going to lose the ability to breathe, feed, and because of that, you would want to get emancipated (or worse, which if i don't say, it can't happen). i got there at around 9pm, your father showed up on his own accord shortly after. the nurses took more blood from me, i had to produce a urine sample, and i had to strip down to my skivvies and get into one of those ridiculous hospital robes. actually, make that two robes - as soon as i changed, i had to go to the bathroom. apparently, no one in emerg wanted to see my ass, so i put one on backwards to cover myself. the floor was pretty cold, even through my fuzzy socks. and you would think the floor might be a little bit cleaner - it was filthy! it just would've looked silly if i put my crocs back on, though...
regardless, i got to see you again that night - all the doctor on duty could do was perform an ultrasound and tell me that even if i was leaking your current life-blood, there wasn't anything that could be done about it. as unfortunate as it sounds, i'm guessing that's why he didn't perform an internal exam. well, that and the fact that it was 2am and i was on the verge of those awful trying-not-to-cry-so-i'm-shaking-tears... i think i made him slightly uncomfortable. my favourite part of the night, though, had to be the reappearance of the repetitious question "is this your first pregnancy?", which is always followed by that absurd little smile. the head is always tilted slightly away from me to hide their look of amusement, and the grin is usually contained to the side of the face that's not i can't fully see - but i know it's there.
i wonder every day if all of the unwed teenage (meaning 15, 16-year-old) mothers that justified my high school administration to build a day care had problems like this - if they worried about the life of their unborn baby, or if they just cared about getting high or fat... i'm sure some of them are great moms now, but i've been watching a lot of day-time television lately - and it doesn't seem like much has changed since then...
i had to get out of bed at 4:30am this morning to throw up. i'm afraid you think i don't want you... and because of that, i keep thinking you're sabotaging your birth (or, indirectly, i am). i do NOT want this to happen under any circumstances. i may be scared, and i may be anxious. i may be very concerned about not having a job, and i am truly annoyed with the terrible way my body has been reacting to you lately. but i am not annoyed with you! it's easy to stumble through my own life without worrying about where i'll be in five years, but with you on the way, i don't have the luxury of thoughts like that anymore. i sound terrible! but at least i'm honest...
in retrospect, after everything we've been through so far, i still can't wait to start the next phase of our lives together. i don't want to say anything like "i can't wait to meet you" or "i can't wait till i actually get to hold you" - i feel like i (should, at least) already know you, and that i hold you constantly.
i wish i could stop worrying about things - it's probably making you worry, and if you're worrying already, well, you're well on the way to being just like your mother - not particularly the best thing... i had an ulcer by the time i was 16 - you'll have one by the time you're 16 weeks if i keep it up...
somehow, i promise, things will work out... how odd - i sound just like my mom now...

dear baby...

dear baby,
well, i figured it's about time i acknowledged you properly. sure, i've told everyone i'm pregnant with you, and i've started taking prenatal vitamins. I'm even starting to stare at my belly (you? or am i just getting fat?) at random times... but i still haven't really acknowledged you... it's been hard to think of you as something that i'll be responsible for until the day i die, and unfortunately, responsibility has never been a strong suit of mine... what's been even harder is thinking about you as an eventual person... actually, a person now, i guess...
to tell you the truth, baby, i'm petrified.
i mean, i have a hard enough time taking care of myself! i've never really eaten well - "pizza" is a food group for me - how can i feed you properly? how can i be sure you're going to get all the vitamins and minerals you need? there's always flintstone vitamins to rely on, but i'm not really sure they even make a difference (your grandma used to give them to your uncle and i as a treat sometimes!). how am i going to prevent you from developing an allergy to peanuts? or gluten? or even the sun, god dammit? there are so many things i've been worried about... i know i probably shouldn't ("worrying is bad for the baby, april..." see what i mean? i've heard that i don't know how many times now!), but i worry about everything all the time! that's just the way i am... so, if i'm like this with my own life, how big of a control freak am i going to be with yours? i worry about that, too, just to let you know...
i don't want to ever think i ruined your life somehow... i know that sounds a little far-fetched, but i was a teenager once too (at least i have some of the lingo down... as uncool as that probably just sounded...) and i'm sure i was convinced my parents ruined my life once or twice...
since you've been around, though, everything's changed! i've realized how much fun i don't have when i'm not drinking (as bad as that sounds), and because of that, began to realize how annoying i must've been when i was drunk. i've become more self-conscious - ever since i started gaining weight before you were even thought of, i was getting self-conscious, but this is a whole other ball game. the unfortunate thing about this ball game, though, is that instead of the ump yelling "yer out!", he's screaming "yer fat!" to my thighs...
i'm also the most self-absorbed person you'll ever meet... someone told me last night that i was a bitch in high school. i thought i was making a conscious effort to be nice to everyone, but i guess i was wrong... i asked my two best friends (who, by the way, knew me in highschool) and they said i was fine... if anyone has a reason to lie, though, it's those two. if they told me i rained on even one person's parade, i'd never let them forget it. i'd pester them until they they eventually broke down, wrote me a detailed list of everyone i possibly upset, followed up by a folder of google maps getting me to all of their houses with the least amount of construction traffic.
see? i'm a neurotic mess...

all the things i need to know... i didn't even BEGIN to learn in kindergarten...

i never really thought of my blog as a free-range complaining farm... until i really had something to complain about... actually, if i look back, i pretty much always complained on here... just not twice in two days...
well, i still feel like crap. the bags under my eyes show testament to the fact that i have slept approximately ten hours in the past three days (any criticisms about my writing or thought process, please direct to the land of nod... i'll pick them up the next time i make a stop there... and at this rate, well, i never really liked criticism all that much anyways...), i still can't breathe or hear very well, i've now taken up coughing about every five-or-so minutes, and my left thigh has fallen asleep and i can't wake it up... at least someone's getting some rest...
complaining is cathartic, i guess. i've decided i no longer believe in "support" groups- i think they're just a front for people to go and sit for an hour and bitch about stuff... "support" my ass - call it like it is and everyone would be a lot happier...
i think i'm rambling... or maybe experiencing some new sort-of imbalance due to my "dull" eardrums...
bah...

it's been awhile... (and that WASN'T a stained reference...)

i think i must have procrastination issues... or laziness issues... or... something... i seem to have a hard time getting on here and writing...
well now, boys and girls, i have a reason - PREGNANCY SUCKS. i feel terrible saying that, but maybe it's just because the majority of the population writes it off as this beautiful, life changing event... beautiful? seriously? wtf? i mean, i've had more pimples in the past three months than i've had in 12 years, i've gained ten pounds (but recently lost five - doesn't look like it AT ALL and will be explained fully in the next few paragraphs), i think my eyes are moving closer together (i know... probably impossible, but the way things are going for me, well, i wouldn't put it past anyone...), and maybe, in some far-off reaches of the planet, excessive gas (too much information i'm sure) might possibly be seen as an attractive trait, but i think even my dogs find it repulsive in this neck of the woods... so "life changing"? definitely. but in no sense of the word do i feel beautiful... joe keeps telling me i am (well, he basically just tries to convince me i'm not disgusting... if he even tries to tell me i'm pretty, i kinda tear his head off...), and i'm sure i'm not really as ugly as i feel, but shouldn't i feel beautiful? why am i blessed/cursed with friends who have all had almost perfect pregnancies? i'm very happy for their experiences, but why does mine have to suck? i mean, i quit drinking, i quit smoking (smoking! me! i quit! cold-fucking-turkey, mofo...), haven't been lifting heavy objects and have given up any thoughts of dieting (well, the last one was easy enough, but i still don't want to be fat!). i think i've done everything i possibly could to ensure this experience will be as "magical" and "enlightening" as all the shitty books i've read and all the crappy television i've watched said it's supposed to be...
and to top it all off, i've gotten stupider (see? i'm sure that's not even remotely grammatically correct, but honestly, what the fuck is anyone going to do to me that's going to be any worse than what i'm going through right now?)! another "symptom" of pregnancy... i mean, if it's not supposed to suck, why does pregnancy have "symptoms" and "side effects" like so many illnesses? is it only the unlucky suckers like me who experience "symptoms"? do the happy pregos have these things "included", like the free make-up bag you get when you spend $50 or more at the clinique counter? AUUUGGGHH!!!
so, i'm sure if anyone is actually reading this, you may be wondering where all of this seemingly unbridled hostility and anger is really stemming from... well then... here's where the story begins...
for the past week, maybe week and a half, i've been experiencing symptoms EXACTLY like strep throat (i had it twice last year - february and june, so i know exactly what to expect). i am also very aware of rhinitis of pregnancy (some other terrible "symptom" that is earmarked by excessive mucous build-up due to higher amounts of estrogen during pregnancy and swelling of the nasal menbranes... in layman's terms - i am eternally stuffed up and cannot take any decongestants... awesome), and knew it wasn't this as i've been affected with that little gem for almost two months now! so, because of the severely sore (to the point of closing) throat, coughing, lack of sleep and earache, i went to the e.r. tonight. and oh yeah - the BRIGHT red dots and marks on the back of my throat and on my tonsils also told me it may be a good idea to stop in and have a talk with the doc on duty... LOTS of websites informed me if i was experiencing any of these symptoms, i should take a trip to the e.r, let alone all of them. the telehealth nurse told me to get my ass in there as well (those were just little examples to try and prove i'm neither crazy nor a hypochondriac). so, i waited just over two hours to see the doctor. when he waltzed into the exam room, i was a little bit shocked - gone were the trappings of what makes a "typical" doctor - dress pants, white lab jacket, wire-rim glasses, sensible shoes, salt and pepper hair cut in a sensible crew-cut... instead, what walked in the exam room looked like one of my old veterinarians i had to call for an emergency visit at midnight - the only major difference was the vet was wearing birkinstocks with mis-matched socks - the doctor was wearing hiking boots. i can't say for sure his socks didn't match, but i also can't say for sure they did... well, either my old vet or a guy who owned a head shop - one or the other... above the well-worn hiking boots, a pair of faded jeans rested. holes were beginning to wear in the left knee giving them a sort-of lopsided look. his shirt was a short-sleeve, teal scrub top that was covered in no-less-than 50 steel-gray hairs... he should have been wearing a hair-net, or at least tried to contain his very, very long hair in a tighter pony-tail. no glasses, and it seemed like th only time this guy ever set foot on a golf course was to protest the separation-of-class sometime in the sixties... needless to say, i wasn't sure how this visit was going to turn out... was he going to prescribe vast amounts of marijuana, grown in his indoor hydro operation? or would he take the holistic "make sure the honey you put in your lemon herbal tea is ONLY from bees from a cruelty-free organic bee ranch"? i also began to wonder if he was ever a member of the peace corps, and if he ever examined pregnant ethiopian women who probably relished gaining weight... the exam began with a quick look up my nose (which still hurts), rubbing of my neck/throat, a peek in my ears (which were proclaimed "dull"), and a glance at the suspicious-looking red spots on my inflamed tonsils. the whole ordeal lasted all of ten minutes, at which point the doctor i suspected of driving a hybrid while blaring simon and garfunkel informed me there was NO infection... none! and that i may have to just "deal with it" UNTIL THE END OF MY PREGNANCY!!! no throat swab, no listening to the rumbling in my chest, nothing. well, there was something - a feeling that i was going completely crazy - had all of these "symptoms" (term used correctly - i did think i was actually ill, after all!) been in my head? a convenient excuse to lounge on the couch while eating my lactose-free ice cream? i should hope-the-fuck-not! i have a valid excuse to lay around being incorrigible - these "side-effects" may very well stick with me until this baby makes it's way out, i'm going to get fat, my stomach is going to stretch (among other things that need not be mentioned here...), and to quote one of the (only) movies that shows pregnancy in it's true light - i'm going to have to "squeeze something the size of a watermelon out of a hole the size of a lemon!" in about less than six months! so sue me for feeling slightly self-indulgent...
don't get me wrong, either - i am excited. i know i'm a part of this "great big plan" that's made up of life and pro-creation... i just wish i could appreciate it without a puke bucket, box of lotion-enriched kleenexes and a tub of vaporub beside me... oh well... i can always blame the hostility on my huge hormonal imbalance - at least i know that's not in my head...

my, how things change...

i've come to notice the only thing constant in my blog (therefore, direct correlation to my life) is change. everything is always different when i have a chance to get on here and write. seriously - is that normal? does everyone's life swing to as many extremes as mine does? i really want to know... is it me? is it because i have such a hard time staying focused on anything, or is it because my constant trials and misgivings are probably quite amusing to the general population? not that things are bad - i (hope) think the curse that plagued me for the last year is probably over - if it is, it lasted almost exactly one year... sure - i got laid-off after the year would've been up, but i`m not sure it was such a bad thing. i don't want to be a sales person anymore! that's it - i am NOT going to take another sales-related position AGAIN! no "account managers", no "territory managers", no "account representatives"... NONE of those! i know i've said it before, and i'll probably say it again, but i am sold-out... i don't want to be good at telling people what they want... i am, though, planning on applying at a bank - i may be (well, i'm pretty sure i will be) required to sell mutual funds and other bank products... what i don't want, though, is the pressure. frankly, i've had enough of that to carry me through to retirement... even if i'm forced to retire at, like, 95...
so, as of now, i'm collecting unemployment. joe and i are (again) learning to live with smaller means and learning what's important in life. god - that sounds cheesy... my unemployment runs out in july - quite jump into the distant future... it will be summer again when it runs out! while sticking it to the man by collecting unemployment (i still can't believe how easy it it - i call or go online on friday, answer under ten questions, then on the following tuesday, there's money in the bank... i can't get over it, i swear!), job hunting is a great way to showcase some lovely character traits such as perseverance, determination, a will to succeed and a strong working ethic. anybody who knows me, though, will probably be thinking "but april, you could be taking this opportunity to write... you could be remodelling the house (again)... you could be making a social statement that traits like perseverance, determination, a will to succeed and a strong work ethic aren't that important in the grand scheme of things..." yes - those who really know me (like myself) are wondering why i even care about a job when i have, what? about eight months before i wander into dire straights? well, folks, things change. see, i need at least 600 hours to collect maternity leave. no, i'm not taking my "sticking it to the man" theory too far by faking a pregnancy, or by getting pregnant just to make a point (or the beginnings of my personal army). i actually am pregnant and happy. well, happy and confused...
so, here's a list of things i've learned (so far) about pregnancy -
1: the internet is a piece of crap. why, oh why is it so damn hard to get a straight answer on whether or not i can drink fucking herbal tea?! seriously - the internet would be much more appealing if it wasn't acting like a bi-polar chick who forgot to take her meds and is experiencing pms (sorry to all who've actually experienced this girl by spending time with me when these unfortunate times occurred - normally on a monthly basis...)! all i want is a fucking answer that coincides with at least three sites i look at in a row... how hard is that? regardless, because i saw at least one site that stated my tea ingredients are perfectly fine for myself and my unborn baby to ingest, i will be drinking my dreamland herbal tea before bed tonight...
2: mood-swings are not fun for anyone involved. my mood-swings that i experienced prior to my pregnancy are still kicking around, although they seem to occur less frequently. they really haven't involved a lot of anger - mostly just irrational tears, some hyperventilating, and a lot of hurt feelings - i'm taking freakin' everything personally right now! they also seem a little more severe. poor, poor joe...
3: "morning sickness" is not real. it should be called "all-day-feelings-of-crap-and-yuckiness"... kind of like a hangover, but i didn't have the luxury of being drunk. generally, i constantly feel on the verge of throwing up, and usually always have a headache. one of the coolest things about "morning sickness", though, is that being pregnant, i am unable to take medication for the feelings of malaise i experience. i am growing stronger everyday (and more annoyed with my sensitive stomach) - yea. that being one of the best things, the ultimate best thing would have to be that it's only supposed to last until i'm done my first trimester. i am now about six weeks - halfway there.
4: food is wonderful. i have always thought that starving wouldn't be one of the nicest things to go through, but now, i know it as "the-possible-worst-thing-that-could-ever-happen-short-of -another-holocaust-or-world-war". in conclusion, food is the best thing to ever exist (except the food that threatens to make me vomit... see above).
and finally, 5: a lot of the things i've heard and read about pregnancy don't seem to be ringing true - i've heard every time i see a baby, i'll feel pangs of longing and love. when i hear a baby cry, i'll want to cry. when my face starts turning into a pizza with extra grease and pepperoni, i'll understand because my hormones are out of whack. none of these statements are true - at all. maybe i'm weird... or a robot... world, look out - she's reproducing...