Complaining

Urgh, frustrating day.  After waking up at 7am this morning I found myself needing a 2 hour nap by 8am.  I had to buy a maternity swimsuit.  I’m doing what little I can to ward off pre-eclampsia in what was a normal and uncomplicated pregnancy.  I’m worried that I’m not asking for enough help or that I need to push myself more.  I’m tired of answering the question, “Do you feel alot of movement?”  When I have no frame of reference or baseline for “alot”.  I’m annoyed by people’s surprised expression that my due date isn’t tomorrow, but rather in 6 weeks.  I’m fantasizing about a life where I can pivot my hips again.  Generally, I’m just being a whiner.

Quick Update

I have very little to write except that I’m sleepy, we’re making our way through the first season of Six Feet Under with remarkable speed, and I have 3 more days left of work.  Also, there’s an ever-increasing chance that our downstairs neighbours are planning to steal our dog when they move out tomorrow.

Clair Huxtable Update

Well, that baby video staring Felicia Reshad really sucked ass.  Somehow it tried to cram the first 6 years of life into 32 minutes.  For a woman who’s fictional husband was an obstetrician this was a poor showing.

In other news, we went to Lilac Festival yesterday.  This is my 4th year attending and maybe my favourite so far.  The weather was nice.  I ate a hotdog and an ice cream.  And, we missed out on the crowds by arriving by 10am.  Needless to say, we did it pretty bad ass.

Sadly, the camera was left behind so in order to capture the memory I came home and took a picture of our lilac tree.  Notice our manicured backyard.

Dinner

Tonight I ate:

- original Kraft Dinner

- pink jumbo freezee

- a handful of jalapeno cheddar chips

But what I really wanted was 4 margaritas.  I’m not entirely convinced that the former is better than the latter.

Clair Huxtable is going to teach me how to raise my baby!

While researching ways to keep my baby alive/learn how to care for one, I found this.  This just made labour worthwhile.

Last year’s Folk Fest. Because now I’m Nostalgic.

Random Going-Ons

Because I’ve been slacking in just about every area of my life, somehow in the last few weeks (or perhaps, months) I’ve been automatically signed out of my flickr account.  I created the account in September and uploaded photos about half a dozen times.  However because I didn’t log on for a really long time, I had to re-enter my username and password.  So I did.  But it didn’t work.  So I tried something else and then something else and then something else.  I’ve now exchanged about 15 emails with the people at Yahoo trying to get back into my account.  I also have no idea about the answers to my security questions.  I’m finding everything about this disconcerting.

I dreamt last night it was the last day of school.  That’s okay because the last day of school is in three weeks so its do-able.  What’s weird is this is my last day of school for a really, really long time.  There’s a lot of things about teaching that I’ll be happy to leave behind (21st century learning!), but the school year is not one of them.  I’ll probably keep having children just to live vicariously through their first day of school.  Also, to keep with up future incarnations of Hannah Montana.  Who is an incarnation of Tiffany.  Who I’m pretty sure is an incarnation of Sandra Dee.

I’m off to Kensington in a few minutes where I’ll seek out clothing.  I’m approaching the 7th month mark and have yet to buy a single piece of maternity clothing.  I’ve been getting away with long  tank tops and summer skirts.  And, in the aforementioned 3 weeks, I’ll be able to scuttle around in my in underwear circa spring/summer 2006.  I don’t think I’ll be scuttling, though.  Perhaps just sauntering in my backyard.  Whoo, summer 2009.

I’m hoping to buy Calgary Folk Fest tickets this week.  We’ve decided only to do two days this year as a four day pass would definitely be tempting fate as this baby is due three weeks later.  However, if I birth this baby at folk fest I bet we’ll get free tickets for life.  This might be something to look into.

Is This Meta?

Baby Anxiety Dreams = Banxiety Dreams?

I’m not 100% happy with “Banxiety” versus “Spanxiety” but I’ll go with it until I come up with something better.  I also realize that writing about my dreams on my blog is the paramount of self-absorbed, but what are you going to do?

Since becoming pregnant, I’ve had a handful of dreams about this baby.  Because this poor baby will probably not be captured by film (lazy mother who turned down a free video camera because it seemed like too much work), I’ll begin its “baby book” with these dreams.  Please note the theme.

Dream #1:  Boy baby is only 3 months old but somehow a toddler.  Baby is getting baptized and minister drops baby down some stairs.  I run down stairs, retrieve baby, and make sure it’s alright.  Baby is fine and I’m relieved.  However, I’m more relieved that I worried about the baby.

Dream #2:  Girl baby is sickly and wearing a pink sleeper.  Baby has no specific illness, just sickly.  I note that the yellow pallor of baby’s skin clashes with sleeper.

Dream #3:  Girl baby who is (again) only 3 months old but for some reason learning to ride a bike.  Baby begins to ride bike and has a minor crash.  I rush over to comfort baby and am over-whelmed by the cliche metaphor of independence.

Dream #4:  Give birth to baby in a restaurant.  I have no recollection of birth.  After I regain consciousness I am told that I had triplets and that my friends in the restaurant, who helped birth the baby, have named all 3 babies with weird hybrids of their names.  I spend the rest of the dream trying to change their birth certificates to normal names.

Wow, can I be any more worried that I might be an inadequate parent?

Being Politically Incorrect About Gypsies

Okay, I know that Gypsies are real people, who’ve had very real struggles (and still do), but for some reason, in Canada, we feel far enough removed that they are ranked among pirates and cat-lovers.  Therefore, mythical or only existing in the ancient past.

Last night I returned from a two week school trip to France, Spain, and Morocco.  Lots of good stuff happened, some teenage drama, and a bit of inevitable teacher drama, but what stands out the most is the song composed by the grade twelve students about gypsies.  In this song the fetus was deemed a gypsie and was given it’s own verse.  Apparently it’s making bracelets out of my capillaries to trade for cigarettes.  There is also a verse sung in rap.