I know I haven’t blogged in a while. Shame on me! I’ve been busy being lazy. First thing, I suppose, is to update the seven people who are apparently following my blog through Google and the millions of other imaginary people who are obviously too shy and self-conscious to admit that they check my blog hourly for updates, assuming they’re actually interested in what’s going in my life, which they totally ought to be since I’m all kinds of awesome and perfect in every way.
Did I tell y’all about the adorable all-black, yellow-eyed kitten I got in May? Well, he now weighs nearly seven pounds! He’s still very playful, sometimes to my annoyance. It’s like, “Gee, cat, I’m glad you’re happy, but I really don’t need my legs to be used as a climbing post!”
Husband got a dog in July, a catahoula cur. The dog was already named Luke when we got him, and he apparently likes that name and is used to it, so we can’t change it. Personally, I think Luke (the dog) is an idiot. I put food down for him and he either walks off or eats a bite and then walks off. I put food down for Midnight (the kitten) and Luke chows down. I put food on a plate for Luna, and Luke’s all over it. Luke spends his days cowering in corners or getting into trouble for climbing on the furniture. He does get exercise when he chases Midnight around the house (after he lets Midnight use him as a scratching post for twenty or thirty minutes) or when he goes to the yard for his potty breaks, lengthy ones where we chain him up since the fence is still in ill-repair.
Luna weighs 36lbs, which is right on track for her age. I’m not worried, since she burns a huge amount of inexplicable energy running circles around me, walking all over me, and wrapping me and husband around her little finger. With her energy level, one might assume I feed her nothing but caffeine pills and sugar cubes, but I assure you this is not the case.
According to my doctor’s scale, I weigh 290lbs. EEEK! But, my bathroom scale says I weigh 178, and it’s correct about Luna’s and the kitten’s weights, so I guess I should go with it instead of the doc’s scale, at least in the interest of self-esteem-preservation.
My not-yet-born child is happily dancing and kicking on a ridiculously regular basis these days. I know I’m not ingesting THAT much sugar or caffeine, but you wouldn’t know it by watching the creepily alien-movie-esque movements in my abdomen. The second ultrasound showed that, apparently, it is “definitely a girl!” While I will love this child no matter what, I cannot help but feel a twinge of disappointment. I wanted a son. And husband doesn’t want any more children. Granted, I’ve no desire to alter my body through potentially harmful birth control methods or surgeries and cannot stand the feel of condoms, but I’m sure husband’ll still try to insist upon something.
I love him, and I know he’s just worried about how we would pay for the care children need, but I highly doubt I’m as fertile as, say, Michelle Duggar. Regrettably, I started having sex at the age of 14. The first time I conceived, I was 18; I miscarried. The second time, I was 20; again, I miscarried. The third conception was three months after the second miscarriage. By then, I had turned 21; that pregnancy resulted in Luna. My fourth conception occurred when I was 23, about to turn 24. I miscarried that one a couple of months into my 24th year. I turned 25 on June 10th of this year. I am almost 8 months pregnant, evidently having conceived in January, when I was still 24. So, sexually active for over ten years, only having conceived five times, only carrying two successfully.
Unlike Michelle Duggar, I do not think that birth control is against the will of some deity. I just feel like it goes against the natural order of things. I am by no means criticizing those who choose birth control, but I know that it is not right for me and my body. I want to take a que sera sera approach to my fertility.
This baby is due on October 15th. I have decided that induction is not what I want for my body and my baby. I let Luna be induced, due mostly to the pressure I felt from the doctor and from husband; their arguments in favor of it seemed to make sense at the time but seem weak in hindsight. And having her induced led the doctor to suggest a c-section after less than 12 hours of labor. Fortunately, Luna would have none of that and came out quickly after his suggestion. But I do not want to go through that again, especially not the giant crochet needle they use to start the induction…
What is bothering me about the impending birth is that I lack the energy now to care for my household. How will I feel with an infant AND a toddler wreaking havoc on my home and my psyche? I’m not saying I can’t handle it; I’m just kind of doubting myself here. If you saw my house right now you’d worry too.
Luna runs the show here, as much as I wish she didn’t. She spreads everything everwhere about the house. And I don’t feel like fixing it. I can’t blame her for the occasional stray peice of trash (unless it was one of the times she has dragged trash back out of the garbage or tore up something that hadn’t been trash before), nor can I blame her for the mountain of dishes or the avalanche of laundry, but she does tend to spread said laundry about the house rather than leaving it be in the designated areas for dirty laundry or clean laundry that needs folding or hanging.
The dishes are because I hate standing over the sink and handwashing them and getting soaked by the sink and then having her destroy the rest of the house while I’m washing them. And I enjoy the hours when she’s gone to bed and husband’s gone to work as being my “me time.” Thus, I don’t feel the need to do chores during that time. Okay…so I’m lazy. I want to think that I’ll be great at it, that popping out this kid will give me a sudden burst of homemaking energy and I’ll get things accomplished…but I doubt it.
If you’re wondering why I keep calling the parasite in my womb “the baby” or “this kid” or “not-yet-born” it is because we haven’t yet thought of a name. Oh, we’ve thought of names, just not ones we can both agree on. I suggested Athena Snow, but husband didn’t like Athena. He suggested Diana Snow, but I don’t like Diana. Today, I randomly thought of Dasha (no middle name came to mind), but a Google search revealed a popular Czech porn star known for female ejaculation and anal sex. I’m not providing a link; y’all will have to use your own search engines to find her work! Anyway, I’m thinking maybe that’s not so much a good name for my kid. I may as well go with Jezebel if I want a recognizable but unfavorable icon for my daughter.
Instead of researching names for my baby, I’ve been spending time researching things to argue with people on facebook about, because that is of course all kinds of productive. I don’t set out to have the arguments, of course, but friends will post links or status updates that get my mental gears turning and I go and do research. Sometimes we agree on topics but friends of theirs disagree. Sometimes it’s my own friends who disagree with me. Soemtimes it’s relatives. There’s nothing wrong with having differences of opinion, of course, but like the popular cartoon, I feel the need to correct those who I feel are wrong on the internet.
I have been doing some productive research for the freelance writing I’ve been doing. I don’t remember if I let you blog-followers and blog-stalkers in on this yet, but I’ve begun writing for a local political magazine. I’ve had one article published already in the July issue and another is being reviewed by the editor for potential publication in the September issue. I’m not going to link to this blog because I know that the content of my blog is not of the same genre and I do not want to shoot myself in the proverbial foot by upsetting the powers that be at the mag so that they do not invite me back to write for them again. I have linked the mag on my facebook page, which I suppose indirectly connects it with my blog, but not so much that it might bother people.
I was worried that I might fuck up on this latest article, because I took a somewhat spontaneous vacation to Texas for a week, and thought I wouldn’t be back in time to make the deadline; however, the editor changed the deadline for unrelated reasons and I was able to pull it together. Husband was on vacation from Hell-Mart and had promised that he would paint the bathroom and clean the house while I was gone and do some other handy-man things around the house, so I packed up me and Luna and drove to Mars to visit the whole famdamily.
I was supposed to have stayed with my sister-in-law. She is living alone in a two-bedroom house because my little brother is deployed to Iraq; she is also pregnant, but is a couple of months behind me. Well…that didn’t work out because she had a family tragedy, so I had to crash on random family members’ couches for the duration of my stay. Everyone was busy working at their jobs or doing other things that didn’t involve me, so I spent a great deal of time just lazing about. The last day I was there, I had wanted to have a family BBQ, but few people were able to show up, and those who did weren’t able to stay long. I wanted to punch Robert Burns…
The trip wasn’t a failure, really. I met husband’s grandparents for the first time, which was pretty cool. Luna enjoyed our stay there. They didn’t make us sleep on a couch. They had a huge guest bed with memory foam! We got to get a tour of the land they own; Luna enjoyed throwing bread to the fishies in the pond. Husband’s grandfather tried to let her fish with his bamboo fishing pole, but it was way too big for her to handle properly, or maybe she just didn’t understand. She kept dropping the front of the pole in the water, and ultimately ended up catching and losing the bait on the grass.
I also discovered that there is a branch of my bank in Longview, which was relatively convenient. After working for my grandmother in her charity store for a few hours, I was able to drive to the bank and make a deposit so that I could spend money on my debit rather than as cash. My bank recently changed their policies, and I now have to either have direct deposit or make 15 transactions a month if I still want the “free checking” feature. While I hate trying to find excuses to spend money 15 times a month, I also hate spending $5 just for the privilege of having an account. I figure if I’m going to spend my money, I may as well spend it on me or Luna or husband rather than on owning the account.
What annoyed me the most was not the events of my trip, rather the events upon my return. Husband did paint the bathroom, a sky-blue color which surprisingly doesn’t clash with the 1970s-era green fixtures. But he used flat paint (as opposed to Kilz). And didn’t scrape the old paint off first. And didn’t make sure to keep the paint from getting onto things he didn’t mean to paint. He also mowed the yard, but we got a “mow your yard!” notice from the city anyway. And he hasn’t mowed it since. It should be a weekly thing. He also didn’t do anything else around the house. He said he was tired. Funny how he’s allowed to be tired but I’m not. Of course, I’m just developing a human being inside my body while simultaneously trying to wrangle and care for a three-year-old. HE’S the one working hard at his 40hr a week job, from which he was taking a vacation during the week I was in Texas…
Even after typing this long update, I have yet to think of a topic of discussion or debate to blog about tonight. I also have yet to gain the momentum needed to propel me through several hours worth of housework. But, the kitten is now sleeping across my arms, warming them up significantly, which is SO not good during the heat of summer. It’s almost just after midnight in Arkanass, and well above 80 degrees still. /sigh
I supposed I’ll just get off of here and try to make Luna go to bed. After that, if I still lack the desire to complete the housework, I’ll probably just goof off on facebook until I’m tired. At least I’m not anywhere near the level of those people on Hoarders.
Phil Vassar–The kids screamin’, phone ringin’, dog barkin’ at the mailman bringin’ that stack of bills, overdue. Good morning, baby, how are you? Got a half hour, a quick shower. Take a drink of milk, but the milk’s gone sour. My funny face makes you laugh. Twist the top on, and I put it back. There goes the washin’ machine. Baby, don’t kick it. I promise I’ll fix it, ‘long about a million other things. Well, it’s okay, it’s so nice. It’s just another day in paradise. Where there’s no place that I’d rather be. Well, it’s two hearts and one dream. I wouldn’t trade it for anything, and I ask the Lord every night, ooh, for just another day in paradise.