Wednesday, July 29, 2009

On Motherhood and Such

Sorry for not writing much. The main happening in my life is waiting anxiously for another loan to go through on another house. Until it happens, I'm awash in crippling anxiety manifesting in dizzy spells, ennui, and irritable bowel syndrome. In other words, I'm not much fun.

But for good news, my little nephew is pure sweetness. We were back in Houston to see him two weeks ago, and we got to my sister's apartment just as they were getting back from the hospital. Gwennie, Emma and I were pushing and shoving to be the first to hold him. I won. Finally. They're small, but scrappy.

We spent some time there and then left to go out for the evening with some friends. The next morning, I got a call from my sister who was crying very hard. My heart turned to burning ice and the adrenaline flushed out my hangover but swiftly.

"IS THE BABY OKAY???" I bellowed.

"Yeah, he's fine," sobbed my sister.

Turned out she was just overwhelmed with learning how to breastfeed him. The nurses at the hospital had been such psycho, Nazi bitches about it, telling her that if he didn't eat every three hours, they were going to keep testing his glucose (which involved pricking his heel), so she better cooperate and give him a bottle. I really thought those days were long gone, but apparently not. So my poor sister was terrified that he wasn't eating enough when all the poor little thing wanted to do was sleep.

Jethro and I still drove over as fast as we could and I spent the day just trying to be calm and assuring her that her dear little baby was just fine.

Now I'm not trying to brag here, and I'm not putting my sister down at all for her panic, because she really did have a bad experience with those nurses that I never had, but when I look back to how I did with Gwennie at 23 years old, I'm pretty proud. It never occurred to me that I had done a good job. I have always been sure that I had done a mediocre job. But I actually did well. I didn't enjoy breastfeeding, but I did it until I got pregnant with Emma which was a solid 9 months and I nursed Emma for a year. I have plenty of faults as a mom, to be sure, but I also have strengths. And the best thing I ever did was to ignore every piece of advice that came my way once the baby was born. It's probably the strangest notion, but my rationale was if crack addicts can raise their children past infancy, then I can. And it worked. The thought kept me confident.

Anyway, I'm done here, and must now feed my children as the law dictates.

Wednesday, July 22, 2009

Words of Wisdom

Drinking non-alcoholic beer is like going down on your cousin. Sure it tastes the same, but it ain't right....

Friday, July 17, 2009

It's a Boy! A Real Boy!

I'm finally an Aunt. My little nephew, Phillip Thomas, was born yesterday at 11:42 in the morning, weighing in at a very healthy 8 lbs 1 oz. I've only seen grainy camera phone pictures so far, but I adore him already. He looks like my sister and my father, who he was named for. Jethro and I and the girls are headed back to Houston to see him and I'm sure I will have a hard time keeping Gwennie and Emma from abducting him to become his slaves.

I feel that euphoria one only gets from having a new baby in the family. My arms are just aching to hold him.

That doesn't mean I'm not busy, though. I have to clean the house, pack for the weekend and buy some presents. And my grandmother just called to make sure we'd pick her up when we go to visit. She's already gone to see him, but she's wasting no time piggybacking on whomever hasn't. Can't say I blame her, though. It's her first great-grandson.

I have to say that for being only 5 minutes old, he's remarkably unslimey.

Monday, July 13, 2009

Funny Stuff

I have yet another decision to make. Jethro and I have been discussing it and he would like it if I got my massage therapy license and worked with him in the clinic. I know I now have my associates degree in graphic design, but I always planned to freelance in that regard, and with a massage therapy license, I could have definite work.

So I went to an open house for a massage therapy school right down the road from the clinic.

Dear, sweet, mother of pearl. Every inch of this office was filled with clutter. From papers, to equipment, to kitschy Asian junk, there was no room to even leave fingerprints.

I walked into this den of hippies trying to keep an open mind, but as soon as I hear "chi flow" and witness the blank, vegan stares, I start feeling my skin crawl and I want to take it off. Jethro and the girls had come with me to check it out, but as soon as Jethro saw the ionic foot bath, he grabbed the girls and hightailed it out of there. I could hear him screaming in his head.

I don't mean to sound so condescending with regards to alternative medicine. It's our livelihood, after all. But so much of it is crap with no evidence (or worse, false evidence) to back up the claims. And even if something is eventually proven, it seems wrong to sell treatments before they are. Telling someone "the Chinese have done it for thousands of years, so you should pay out the schmoobie" doesn't strike me as very objective or scientific.

I know it's hard to imagine some unhygienic vegan in rags bilking people out of money, but they can do it just as easily as a guy in a suit.

Anyway, I'm tired and rambling and I think I'll go to bed now.

Friday, July 10, 2009


Overdue hat tip to ALa of Blonde Sagacity. That was her cake in the picture below. She won a contest with it last year, and her husband won the year before. They seem to have a gift with the fondant. I don't. I tried making it once and it seemed to attract every piece of hair and fuzz and bug in a 5 yard vicinity. Not my best effort.

Things are going. I've been without my husband for almost 5 days, and I'm feeling kind of growly. Jethro is up in New Town, and I'm in Houston with the girls visiting his parents. It's not my preferred way of doing things, but they miss the girls so much and it's no real trouble for me, although I miss Jethro. We seem to be very co-dependent and I guess I'm one of those sick people who think that's healthy.

It's been an interesting week, though. I've seen quite a few people and have plans to see quite a few more including a young man I met at this gay homeschooling christian youth sports thing I went to in high school. I know he liked me back then, but I refused to date him because he was a year younger than me. I had ridiculous standards at 16. I wouldn't date anyone younger, but I would have given my left tit to have had the babies of a local auto mechanic sporting a golden mullet. Honestly, it's such a good thing for me that I'm married to Jethro, because I'm still that freaking weird.

Saturday, July 04, 2009

Wednesday, July 01, 2009

A Nose By Any Other Name...

I want a nose job. I know, I know. I don't approve of plastic surgery. And I really don't. Find the character to transcend your flaws is what I alway say, and shake what yer mama gave ya.

But I can't stand my nose. I'm pretty sure an ex-ray of it would reveal internal complications so whorled and maze-like and deviant, that a cottage cheese covered, anal sex receiving porcupine fetishist would shudder in ecstatic loathing and revulsion. Half-Jewish, and half-horrid-Scottish-bulbous-rosacea, it's as if the two genes collided then tried to run off screaming before they were frozen in stern, unyielding cartilage.

For such an offending appendage, it doesn't look that crooked. But it is. You should see the nose pads of my glasses. Mind-blowingly off center. One is somewhat straight and the other veers waaaaay off to the side and twists back.

But you should see it when I cry. For most people, women at least, crying is cathartic. But not for me. Actually, I don't know if it is or not because the physical effects of a good cry are so awful. My sinuses swell to the point where I can't breathe through my nose at all and a headache goes without saying. And it lasts for days. At least 4 days after a good cry, you can tell I've had a good cry. It's very aggravating.

Really, there's no point to this at all. I just wanted to write something.