Sports Nut

Brother & Bump

Weariness

You reach a certain point in your pregnancy when you would love to don a tshirt that states, "Frankly, my dear, I don't give damn." This week, I reached that point. Have a pointless question? Need to test my boundaries? Would like to rethink the baby's name? Well I have lost my capacity for bullshit. I defer to the shirt. This may make me look short of patience, obstinate and, at times, grouchy with those who cross me. But I prefer the word "firm". I am busy perfecting "firm" and am putting the finishing touches on "the look". Because sometimes that's all I have energy for anymore...a look. So it'd better be good.

Those of you who have not the child-producing capacity (ahem, men, ahem) don't get this and can be pretty insensitive to it. I'm sure they're thinking something along the lines of "oh suck it up". Trust me. I'd love to suck it up. I'd love to plow through the housework, meal preparation and freezing, endless loads of laundry and toddler tantrums with a serene pregnancy glow. Barefoot, too. However, when climbing the stairs has me resting at the top for 30 seconds lest I pass out; when bending over sends me into contractions; when I'm battling my 4th sinus "thing" since February; when a ligament in my groin spasms and sends me to my knees throughout dinner prep; and when a healthy sneeze or belly laugh forces me to cross my legs or reap the consequences...it's a little hard to "suck it up". Basically, I defer to the shirt. Think what you will, I don't give a damn.

**Ari sings "Shimmy Shake" along with the Wiggles while I type this. He doesn't care if I don't give a damn.**

All of this isn't to say that I am ready to have this child. Sometimes the thought of a second child terrifies me and sometimes I am overwhelmed with curiosity and a desire to meet her. Ah, the dichotomies of parenthood. They begin even in utero. And, really, there are only three things that frighten me in respect to this blessed event: a) parenting two children - when I previously believed Ari took everything I had; b) the possibility of another hemorrhage; and c) postpartum depression. People frequently say that you fear the unknown. However, I don't. I fear the known. I know what it feels like to give your all to a child and know that it's still not enough. I know the fear of hemorrhaging after birth. And I know the darkness of postpartum depression. I'm taking steps to prevent and/or deal with each of these things but how much can you prepare? Will nature even let you? Sometimes you just have to trust and take the leap.

I think of people I know and love who are taking leap after leap after leap. My grandma, who is giving up her home, her things of 70 years, and moving to a retirement home. For good. A friend who just moved to Chicago to begin a new job and a new life. A strong woman who will follow her husband to a new state and start all over. Someone who is beginning his life again with someone new. An amazing woman still healing from the sting of loss. Leap after leap after leap. Life.

Another dear friend of mine wrote in her blog about a man who predicts that in 35 years we, as a human race, will have merged with our technology and may be able to overcome death. He did not state that this is a positive thing. And even so...even if this is true someday...can it detract, make less of, the Life we follow here? Our Path? Can our knowing that death or struggle is not inevitable make these leaps of faith less significant? Maybe. Our Lives are about lessons learned and choices made. Consequences. And what if, someday, there aren't that many consequences left? That may be a scary day for our children and I'm not sure I want that.

This has become more of a monologue on the virtues of technology v. the sacredness of Life than a rant on the weariness of pregnancy. And that's okay. I guess, when it comes to the former, time will tell. Hmmm, looks like a give a damn after all. Rats.

The screwdriver goes in the drawer, Ari.

I was making rice crispy treats today...with brand new coco crispies and 6-months-past-the-best-by date marshmallows (pretty typical in our house)...while Ari tried my patience from the living room, then the kitchen, then the living room, then hanging on my leg and standing on my foot. I was slowly losing my cool after a day of "I want, I want" without the please, whining and general American-bred entitlement that only a two-year-old can display with such vulgarity at times. Finally, he opened the junk drawer next to the stove, peaked in, pulled out a screwdriver and looked at me with the devil in his eyes. My first thought: My goodness, he's getting tall. My second thought: Why that little shit...

Ari: Mommy, I pay wif shooshiver?

Me (giving him my best regal-queen-of-the-Amazon-I-take-no-crap look): Ari, do we play with screwdrivers in this house?

Ari (actually looking abashed): No.

Me: What do we do with it then?

Ari: Put back in dwawer.

Me: That's right. Thank you very much.

Ari (slight chuckle, shaking head and smiling as if suprised by his former silliness): Okay.

I was shocked that the above exchange went so smoothly and so according to what I wanted. Could not believe that he actually looked embarrassed when I called him on the screwdriver thing. My God, my kid is growing a conscience!! And then...he pulled the same stunt again with a second screwdriver. It played out exactly the same way again but I knew he was testing a) his boundaries, b) how tired I was and how much I was going to give, and c) my benevolence in not yelling. Mission accomplished, lesson learned, I announced that I was done with my krispy treats and that we could go into the living room for two more songs before naptime.

Aside: One of his favorite activites is rocking out to adult music and seeing his parents dance along with him. See below post.

So I played the "Animal Song" and the "Move Song" (renaming compliments of Ari) and danced with him, pulling out some fomer clubbing moves and shaking my pregnant belly for all I was worth. Consequently sending me into another contraction. However, the Ar-man bellowed out, "Go, Mom, go!" so I knew I was doing just fine and the contraction was worth it.

Friday Night Dance Party

On any given night after dinner, the three of us can be found in the living room jamming to volume-pumped "Apple Bottom Jeans" and several other highly innapropriate songs. Here are some glimpses from our post-7pm life...I'm sure our neighbors just looove us.

Right now, Sascha and Ari are rocking out to songs with lyrics that should be labeled with a Parent Advisory sticker. Sascha sings the lyrics (yes, he does, out loud) and Ari repeats whatever words he can keep up with. Case in point: Ari called the last song on the playlist the "Animal Song"...that's not the actual name and I refuse to share it.

Someone is going to call Children's Services...

Tim, The Tool Man, Taylor

Because I'm avoiding my housely duties, I thought I'd share another "thing we've been up to". In our efforts to prepare our home for this baby (yes, we're nesting) and make room for everything and everyone that will be entering our lives over the next few months, our little townhouse is undergoing some "renovations." DIY renovations, that is.

Overall, we've moved the "office" out of the "office/guest room", turning it into a "baby/guest room"...the office being relegated to an IKEA P.O.S. desk in the corner of the living room. I've never heard someone cuss so much when putting together a piece of furniture...yes, each component seemed to have been created in separate international factories without any communication whatsoever, but it contains our paperly chaos and keeps nosy little fingers at bay. This move displaced our CD racks, which are now living, backwards, in the kitchen. In order to find a CD we have to pivot a case at random and glance in sideways. Of course, all we ever play anymore are Jock Jams and the Wiggles so I guess it doesn't really matter. We've repainted and big-boyed-up Ari's room with some bright colors and a toddler bed (pictures to come). And...our biggest project, we removed our old TV solution and, thanks to Sascha and his Dad's ingenuity, rigged a whole new space-saving way to watch TV. Here begins the odyssey...

Our former TV and armoire, a beloved wedding gift that we just don't have space for in this house...maybe in a future house. It was butted up against the built-in TV alcove with a curtain covering the wall and alcove behind. Adios armoire. It now resides in the garage and our old TV with our babysitter.

Hello built-in. With a little work, you just may do...

You see, we had to fit this new flatscreen (37") into a 26" space. Ain't. Gonna. Happen. I tried to tell Sascha that maybe we just had to settle for smaller this time around...you ever try telling that to a man? Nope, 37" it had to be and thank goodness we have an engineer in the family. Maybe two now...

No, not him. Although he was a big help...

...and provided a bit of comic relief.

Sascha and his Dad (Arnie) collaborated via phone on this project and came up with an amazing solution. I was SO impressed watching it all come together.

Our couch and living space will eventually be across the room from the TV (it's a completely whacked set-up in this house) so the TV had to be able to articulate and turn almost 45 degrees. So this is what happened...and it happened beautifully.

Of course, Sascha had some help...

Et voila! I'll post some pics soon of it completely finished and looking nice. Probably after we try rearranging the living room today.

Portland Trip

Okay. Yes. I know. This trip happened three weeks ago. And I am, just now, posting some shots. Well, we've had house projects. And out-of-town guests. And laundry. And I'm eight months pregnant. Whaddyawant? So here you are. Better late than never.

As Andy walked us out of the Portland airport and an icy 40 degree wind blasted us (truth: gently buffered us), I knew we had been living in San Diego too long...the wussification process was almost complete...that, and I had neglected to pack appropriately for 40 degree weather. Hopefully, there's a parka I can borrow somewhere...

Our first night at Andy & Mel's was spent meeting their dog Bodie, eating some delicious pasta and drinking some great Oregon wine...yes, even I decided to partake. Ari and Bodie quickly took a liking to each other and as long as we kept wine glasses clear of wagging tails and flying balls, things went pretty well.

On our first full day in Portland, we walked along the river until Andy had to head to class. And then the three of us headed into town to explore and grab lunch. Ari was introduced to pad thai (my favorite)...and chopsticks (his favorite)...when we visited the Nob Hill neighborhood. Kickin' neighborhood. Check it out if you're ever in the city. Andy and Mel took us out to dinner that night at a great little place not far from their house. Wine, crayons and toddlers...that's about how our dinners out with friends go.

The next day, we all took a walk through their neighborhood (Alberta Arts District) to get donuts. Ari decided that Melissa needed help walking Bodie. The walk turned out to be longer than anticipated and all I can say is Thank God Andy gave me a parka to wear.

Sascha can't say no to donuts. He'll down a half dozen in one sitting. Like father, like son.

After the donut melee, we drove through the Columbia River Gorge and checked out the fantastic views and waterfalls. Winds were blowing so hard at one spot that the cars were shaking (hence, the flying braids on the right). Sascha was in his element: the forest. Ari was a little grouchy that day and decided to simply sleep through most of it. Actually, I think he was cold...time to move back to the North...

Our last night there, Andy and Melissa so kindly offered to babysit while we went out on the town. Since we were pretty tired we decided to just walk around Nob Hill together, pick up some Indian for everbody and then head home...where they were giving Ari a bath, God bless'em!

All in all...cool town, good trip, great to see family. Love you guys!