So when my mom was pregnant with my sister, my grandmother (her mother) was hounding my parents endlessly about the names — asking them their thoughts and expressing her disapproval at those choices. My parents were, rightfully, getting annoyed at the whole situation, so my dad decided to take it into his own hands.
The next time my grandmother called and asked about the name selection, my dad said, “you know, actually we have decided on a name for the baby! It’s really beautiful and we think you’ll really like it!”
Well, I got up to do my now nightly pee (thanks, kid) and lo, couldn’t fall back asleep. My mind was racing in several different directions, so I employed my usual tactic of falling asleep: replaying a movie/tv show in my head verbatim. It sounds lame, but it’s my version of counting sheep.
So, last night, it was the scene in Breakfast Club where they’re all sitting on the floor and Claire does her lipstick trick and John is a jerk about it and blah blah blah. And then I went past it and was thinking of the end of the movie and when Claire goes into the storage closet with John.
So my question is…are we to believe that they did it in that storage closet? And Claire giving her diamond earring to John is symbolic of her giving her virginity, her purity, to him?
These are very very important questions.
Oh, and I did fall asleep, by the way. An hour later. So it kinda worked.
I suppose it was wishful thinking to get through this pregnancy without my fair share of anxiety. I mean, I am, after all, me (and I don’t mean that in the Sigourney Weaver Working Girl way…).
I had a few weird body pains the other day. Long story short, this led to a call to my gastro doctor who didn’t want to take any chances and had me do an ultrasound of my abdomen (wonky liver stuff, weird vascular things, leave no pregnant stone unturned). That was yesterday morning, after what I thought was going to be a short little appointment. I ended up getting to work at about 2pm. Frazzled. Exhausted. Scared.
I should have seen the anxiety storm coming, what with the extended crying I’ve been doing and the general feeling of, holy shit, what if something goes wrong??? Add to that a possibly scary (but unlikely) reality and…yep…storming. Stormy storms stormin’ away.
It’s passing now and I feel more like myself, but hell if today wasn’t a mix of game face and hiding my teary eyes. And the awful, wretched feeling like I’d never ever climb out of it.
Sometimes I curse this mind of mine. One of my coworkers is also pregnant (due at the same time! Oops! Sorry, office!) and I don’t see her freaking out or having a tear-stained face (her skin is also perfection and I could just strangle her for it) (I don’t mean that). I mean, she could just be better at hiding it, but somehow I feel like I’m freaking out way more than she is, even though we’re literally at the same exact point in our pregnancies.
Anyway, how do those of us with ish deal with having anxiety while we’re supposedly in the most placid, wonderful time of our lives (i.e. this magic called baby-baking)? I’m receiving the pressure from everyone of, don’t stress! That isn’t good for the baby! And I’m like, duh!!!!!! But telling a stressed person with ish NOT to stress is really not effective. But then, where do all my non-stressing enthusiasts have to go? Reverse psychology? Tell me absolutely I should be stressing? Yeah, you see the problem there, too.
It’s a no win situation.
No, the best thing I did for myself was cancel my dinner with T (sorry T, you know I love you) and hole up, eat some plain ass food to calm my freaking stomach, and let this storm pass. By the end of it, I knew it would…it was just a matter of letting it do so. But I tell you…I don’t want this to keep happening. This whole process, which I’m truthfully enjoying a lot, is harrowing enough as it is. I don’t need the added crazy. But I guess, I am the added crazy.
Okay…so here’s the first recap for the ANTM All-Stars season. It was super fun to watch the show and dissect all the details. Tyra was super crayzay, as usual. But then, so were the ladies. I mean, you pull a bunch of the memorable loonies from past seasons? You’re gonna have one big pot o’ nuts.
It was fabulous.
Anyway, enjoy the recap! (Be forewarned, for some reason I say Oy….a LOT.)
Guys, remember how I told you that Rahm Emanuel was at my set for the Old Town Art Fair a couple months ago? And he was sitting and enjoying my and Julia’s music? Well, I wasn’t kidding. Here is photographic proof:
7:30am: Whole wheat waffle with crunchy peanut butter
9:30am: string cheese
12:30pm: ribollita, leftover from last night. (I’d had two helpings last night, but somehow today’s lunch was just not so enticing to me. What was enticing, you ask? The smell of the breadsticks and sauce my coworker had on his desk.)
i like to use polyvore as inspiration only. i purposely pick out expensive things because i know that i will never be able to afford them. the trick for me is seeing colors and patterns and cuts that i like and then going to sites like asos and topshop and stores like forever 21 and h&m and vintage stores and even the gap or banana republic and finding similar items that work the same way.
for example: inthesaddle: if you really like that see by chloe poncho/caftan? try your local vintage store OR get this and throw a belt around that jazz (that is the only time i will condone a belt).
Totally know that the expensive stuff was not meant to make me all sad like, WHY CAN’T I HAVE THIS? I was just marveling at my innate ability to do that for myself. ;)
Incidentally, I do have an old poncho that my cousin gave to me. It’s a tartan plaid, and it’s awesome and, actually, the weather is now starting to be perfect for me to wear it.
That all said, the polyvore you did is fantastic inspiration and I will for sure utilize this to help me shop for maternity wear. That said, you might need to make more of these for me. Heeheeeeeeee!!
Apparently there’s a hullabaloo about menz thinking curly hurr is annoying cuz you can’t run your fingers through it (am I getting that right?).
Well, too bad, menz. Cuz, no, you CANNOT run your fingers through my curly hair. Unless you want it to get caught in there and then I scream in pain and then you feel stupid and then I feel stupid and the worst part is then the curls are all messed up and frizzy. The scene from Peewee’s Big Adventure where he’s sitting there with the blond, curly-haired love interest and he’s trying to run his fingers through her hair and they just end up getting snarled in a mess of frizz and knots comes to mind.
Yep, that’s about right.
BUT LISTEN CLOSE! I WILL NOT APOLOGIZE FOR HAVING CURLY HAIR. BECAUSE IT LOOKS DAMN GOOD!
Okay, you guys. So you know how I’ve been in this Bachelor/Bachelorette Fantasy League that my friend Matt set up? Well, what I couldn’t tell you before was that he was hard at work on an official site that lets people join and create leagues for real. He’s launched it and it’s awesome…it’s called Fantasy4Reality and it’s ridiculous fun.
The best part is, yours truly is going to be running one of the shows. That’s right. It’s America’s Next Top Model All-Stars and it’s starting tonight!! (We just discovered this yesterday so quickly pulled everything together in time for the premiere.) It’s got bitchy Camille, bible-toting Shannon, kooky Lisa, bubbly Brittany…I mean, amazing!! So if you want to sign up (I think the best thing to do is leagues of 2 people, each drafts 7 models) and play, go for it! And then you’ll get to read my recaps of all the ridiculousness that abounds. Because you know Tyra will bring the ridiculous.
Go to the website and follow the instructions to sign up. It’s gonna be so fun!!!!!
I just went to the student center to get some accoutrements for my lunch and it’s hit me…the days of quiet and empty tables and short lines at the food counters are all gone. It was a college-kid frenzy in there; little pitzelah kids with half-excited, half-terrified looks on their faces, complete with worried parents trying to navigate the waters for them.
I felt like Julianne Moore in Boogie Nights when she and Heather Graham are doing too much coke and she goes on a rampage, repeating “too many things. too many things. too many things.” Except I wasn’t on a coke rampage. But you get my drift.
So I ordered yarn yesterday for my first project for Baby Saddle over here. Having made gifts for all of my friends’ kids these past few years, it feels strangely odd (and great!) to actually be making something for my own! I’m also kind of psyched that baby will be born in March, so I can make him/her some warm and cuddly things to wear/have right off the bat.
I can’t wait for the yarn to get here!!!!!! Progress to be posted, for sure.
So, remember how I told y’all that Jessa’s orange fur was turning white, hence the vet thinking she’s actually older than we thought? Well, her once-orange little face mask around her eyes is now almost completely white. And, where we once got regular, “oh! Is that a puppy!?!?” questions from people on the street, now we get “oh, this must be an old Beagle!” Like, a lot.
We’re trying to keep our girl young at heart…but all these idiots keep talking about how old she is! Poor little gal. She’ll always be a pup to me.
Kind of related: I took Jess for a very long walk on Saturday, because it was so beautiful. She accompanied me to the hardware store (which is next to a Petco, so they let people bring their dogs in…nice!) and up and down a block where, much to her delight, someone had spilled a whole bunch of popcorn. There was a lot of dragging and plenty of “No!”s on that stretch.
Anyway, we came across a couple with their young toddler in a stroller. They were older parents, looked to be in their early 40s, and I shit you not, it was like an SNL parody. The dude sounded like Will Farrell and the woman like Ana Gasteyer or something…talking in high baby voices, very very slowly…like, “[kid’s name] DO - YOU - WANT - TO - PET - THE - DOG - GY? DO - YOU? SEE? NICE - DOG - GY!! NIIIIIICE!!” They actually never really acknowledged me or spoke to me in any way…it was all about the kid and all in this overly careful, overly dramatized manner. It was actually half SNL and half Parker Posey and Michael Hitchcock’s weimereiner-owning, J.Crew-sporting couple in Best in Show. I just kind of stood there, like, is this actually happening?
As I walked away, I thought, pleeeease don’t let me ever parent like that. Kids are people, too. Jeeez!
dumb decisions (that do not matter in any real way at all)...
The best thing about the school year ramping back up in these parts is that we do a hiring campaign for all the new potential work/study students, which means that we have a table out in front of the hall with two vivacious students and a big bowl of candy to entice prospective work/studiers.
I just made my way up there to snag a couple of pieces. I took a mini-Twix (my faaaaavorite) and a bite-sized Milky Way (not so much my favorite, but still good). I decided to indulge and eat the Twix first.
That, my friends? That was a mistake. Milky Way before Twix was the only way to go. You can’t get back to the crunchy goodness once you’ve had the Twix and switched to a Milky Way. It just doesn’t work. You lose what makes the Twix so damn good in the first place.
These are serious times, folks. Serious, serious times.
…I don’t know that there’s much more I can say on the topic of 9/11 and my experience and remembrance of it. This post, written two years ago, was my day. These are my memories, in a nutshell.
I could talk about the nightmares I had for weeks after, of being on a train riding over water and seeing a plane coming crashing down into one of the other cars. Of seeing myself in the water, struggling. Of waking up and realizing that I was fine, but so many other people were not. I could talk about the memorial show I played, where I donated my earnings to the firehouse across the street from my then-apartment—it had lost 9 firefighters in the attacks. I could talk about my roommate, Jill’s, face as we watched the news in horror…watched footage of people running for their lives, people jumping out of the towers…knowing that we were only a few blocks from this horrible wreckage. I could talk about the smell that permeated lower Manhattan, one I can still smell if I think about it, one that still sickens me.
But, 10 years later, it’s still not my story. It’s all of ours. It’s everybody’s who was affected by it. My story is one in a million. There’s at once so much more to tell and nothing at all left to say. So this story is my contribution to millions of stories of that wretched, sunny September day.
I hope those who were more affected than I was are closer to peace today…
We just watched a Google Chrome commercial with the slogan, the web is what you make it. If you haven’t seen it, it was basically detailing a dad’s putting together a file of emails and videos and pictures through Google Chrome, documenting his first child’s life. It ends with you seeing a typed email of him saying “I’ve been writing to you since you were born. I can’t wait to show it to you someday.” (or something like that…)
Now, I apologize if I offend anyone who has done this or plans on doing this or something, but I just feel like, I’d rather give my baby something to hold. Something documented on paper, with my handwriting, detailing things of their life. Obviously pictures and videos will be saved on the computer and whatever, but the rest? I don’t know…it just….is so impersonal.
I guess I’d just rather have a good old fashioned baby book than have to put the child in front of a computer and say, hey kid….here’s a bunch of emails.
Pregnancy hormones? They’re REAL. Like, the pregnancy hormones are coming from inside the house real.
After the high of announcing everything yesterday, I’ve now come down to the other side. In other words, I’m in a fucking MOOD. And quite like that non-drunk part of your drunk brain, the rational part of my currently irrational brain is like, CHILL YOUR SHIT. But not kidding? I could cry at the drop of a hat right now. Even quicker than I can normally cry. I could cry just thinking about the fact that I could cry. It. Is. Real.
Well, my plan was to have a performance, don a gorgeous sparkly tuxedo-like thing, rub my belly and smile, but Beyonce kinda stole that thunder...
Other announcement ideas:
Well, it ain’t a food baby!
Let the next generation of procrastinating executive dysfunctional Saddles begin!
I’m 13 weeks and I’m craving everything……What’s that? No, I’m not talking about breast cancer awareness!
Jessa’s gonna be a big sister!
Or, you know, just the standard…
I’M PREGNANT, BITCHEZ!!!!!
Seriously though…check this shit out…
GPOYW: How the hell am I showing this much already? Edition
Seriously, it’s way bigger in person. This has been hard to hide from those who know me well. It’s been one flowy shirt after another. I’m really excited to be out in the open now…let the t-shirt wearing begin! Free at last, free at last, thank god almighty I’m free at last!!
Hormones have made me dramatic. (Yeah…hormones did that. Sure...)
Anyway, I felt I needed to let y’all know, too. That’s why I’ve been pretty quiet around here. It’s hard to NOT say the one thing you really really wanna share! So, I hope you’ll enjoy being along for the ride. It’s definitely been a ride thus far! Here we go……..