Face Value

I want to rant about something but I'll have to start by writing a spoiler about Gossip Girl (for the person besides me who still watches it): so Blair is pregnant. I don't care about that storyline really, I know it's just to keep her linked to Chuck forever and ever. The part that irked me is that, when she was getting her wedding dress fitted the seamstress blew up her spot because she had gotten her measurements, but she noticed they had changed. That in and of itself isn't unrealistic (like I watch this show for its realism in the first place) but they lost me when she said, "let me guess, you're about six weeks along?" Bull. Shit. Many people, particularly those who aren't trying to get pregnant, don't even find out they're pregnant until after the fetus is considered six weeks. And if you start counting fetus weeks from the date of the start of your last menstrual period as anyone who has ever been pregnant does, it's actually been growing for closer to four weeks. Which is a baby blob roughly the size of a freckle. The point is, there's no way Blair has started packing on any weight.  It just reminded me that Hollywood thinks people are stupid, and that, truly, we are. Because if I'd never gotten pregnant, I'd never have realized that there's this myth of pregnancy that exists out there in the cultural ether.

The truth is, you don't start showing for months and months, especially in a first pregnancy. Hormonal fluctuations and cravings are greatly exaggerated, and the number of women whose water breaks spontaneously, let alone breaks before there is a single contraction, is extremely small. But as far as I knew, the movies and TV knew what they were talking about. There's no such thing as subtleties when it comes to the portrayal of one human gestating another. I know, I know, subtlety is not physical comedy's best friend, it's not the point. It's just amazing to me how in the dark I was about this aspect of owning a woman's body until it came my turn to put it to use (at a rather seasoned age, I might add) and people who never have or want kids will never know the truth about this. I don't know why that bothers me, but it does. A recent re-watch of Look Who's Talking actually prompted me to start writing a dissertation on all the ways it was messed up before I decided I needed to back away from that ledge.

I'm all for escapism, but it does make me wonder what other parts of life that get re-invented or glossed over by the fantasy machine. Like, do koalas exist? Come on, have YOU ever seen one? Even documentaries have to employ a certain amount of manipulation and truth-massaging in order to be compelling. But eh, when it comes down to it, maybe I don't really want to know. I do, but I don't. But I do.

Here's the amazing T-Rex, which is a thing I believe really happened in the 1970s and I'm just sad I didn't get to be a part of it.

Saccharine Susie

My work event was yesterday, and I had a little helper.

That cup from which he is imbibing contains water - we're still bookending the day with a bottle of milk, then water the rest of the time because that's all he'll drink. I've decided to try the cold turkey cup-only method sometime next week because the Farmer's Almanac says it's the best time to wean. I'll let you know if it works, I mean, who am I to doubt the wisdom of farmers? But I'm still not going to worry about it if it doesn't pan out. Just giving the progress report (or lack thereof).

Anyway, I had to be here on a Sunday and Mike had to go to his own job, so my boy helped me out by being my date and taking a nice nap while we did prep work and being extra charming with the guests at the party, as long as I was holding up my end and letting him eat constantly. Three-inch heels were probably not my best decision as he requires a lot of chasing these days, but it turned out to be a hell of a leg workout. I'm glad the event's over because, though I've proved to be pretty good at planning, it's not my most favorite thing. Plus something about working on weekends doubly wears me out.

Wah wah wah life's hard. Things are really really great, actually. The Sox showed some much-needed sack in the second game of yesterday's double header, and the Bills beat the Pats which happens once a decade I think (disclosure: I could give a flip about football but I'm related to a bunch of rabid Buffalo fans so I'm happy for them). We're heading into my favorite time of year and I've got a couple of lovely weddings to look forward to and the birth of a friend's baby and while I guess I could bitch about technical fall being here while weather-fall is nowhere in sight, instead I'll be Pollyanna again and express my gladness about not having to use the heat yet.

Swings

Sooo... the Red Sox. Do you really want me to talk about the Red Sox? Of course you don't. Even the most die-hard fans need a little break right now. I just have two things to say and I'll be done with it:

1) I know they've been playing horribly, but there was no excuse for fans to boo the team off their own field last night. At the last home game of the year and all. I'm frustrated too guys but come on, how classless! It made me really sad. In my opinion, there's no excuse for that kind of behavior, ever, from people who represent as a team's supporters. I just really hope we can rectify this in the post-season and get that nasty taste out of all our mouths.

2) Oh yeah, the post-season. They still have a shot at the playoffs, so I have faith that they'll start winning again tomorrow and tie up that wild card position. And then, you know, keep winning. It seems like a long shot, but you can do this, dudes.

Polly-Fucking-Anna till the end, that's me.

Quick poll time: how much do you love INXS? A lot, or a LOT lot? Also, what is your favorite of their songs? Dearly departed Michael Hutchence and his compatriots are very important to my work-in-progress so much so that the working title is one of their song titles (not the one below). But they are also one of my all-time favorite bands and if for some reason you think that Kick is the only thing they did, get thee hence and educate yourself.

Gothball?

Thank you all who came to my neurotic rescue re: yesterday's entry. I did not intend to go fishing for reassurance, but I'm appreciative of the catch I reeled in anyway. It takes a village, indeed.

Today's to-do: work stuff, some writing, physical therapy for the annoyingly lingering condition, and feeling pretty good about life in general.

It will spoil nothing to tell you that today's chosen song appears in a pivotal and extremely dorky scene in my book. It also served as the backdrop of Game 1 of the 2004 World Series, and this may or may not have been because I watched it at the dearly departed ManRay-- only one person besides me can tell you for sure.

Mama Drama

Sorry to pop in and leave such a negative post yesterday. It's not my style to take out my frustrations in such a non-constructive and boring way but, yeah, I was frustrated. Non-responsiveness is a giant peeve for me, it seems so needlessly rude. But I've said my piece about that and I won't say any more.

Also unlike me: I had a small mental crisis this weekend when I came to the realization that, out of the many people we know who have had babies in the past year or two, we got the most difficult one. Not that every baby doesn't present his own challenge, and I don't know what it's like to be in anyone's everyday existence, but it seemed to me like everyone got these easygoing babies who just did everything they were supposed to. Our baby is amazing and wonderful and smart and fun and funny and loving, but I would never classify him as easy. Especially when you compare notes on riding in cars and sleeping and such. That should have tipped me off that I was barking up the wrong mental tree to begin with: don't ever compare. But I did. And I felt, like, why can't we ever get him to do one thing without a struggle? After my approximate five minutes of self pity, I checked my delusions at the door, and if you overlook all his most awesome qualities: he's healthy. Bottom line. I can never take that for granted, particularly in my line of work where I'm confronted with the alternative every single day.

Then I thought, even if it's true that he's the most... whatever compared to other babies, who even cares? Who said he was supposed to be easy? He's on his own timeline for things, and I have to give us all a break considering he's only been breathing on his own for shy of 17 months. What's the point of any kind of fretting about what I can't control? I can't change him, and I don't actually want to (OK if a genie popped up I'd ask for consistent 12 hours of sleep per night, but I can't even really complain about the sleeping any more). So it was a dumb parental breakdown, but it's over. I can't help feeling almost embarrassed about it, so maybe that's why I'm writing about it. As a way to chastise myself, and to remember, if I ever make the mistake of feeling that way again. For all the little curveballs we're thrown on a daily basis, they're all just part of him being a baby. It's not personal. I'm looking at his picture right now and all I can think is, "what WAS I on about?" I can't imagine my life without my sweet butterball who fills up my heart like nobody else. So other babies have been sleeping through the night since day one or voluntarily gave up their bottles on their first birthday or whatever (I exaggerate). Each parent can point out a way that their baby falls short of ideal for them. The most rational part of my brain knows that no baby is perfect. But our baby is perfect for us. That should be my focus. Honestly, self!

At the end of yesterday's turd I passed off as an entry I mentioned that there was a theme to the music this week and here it is: songs that either appear in or have in some way inspired the novel I've been working on. I won't say how or why I chose them, just, that's the connection.

Initial Post

Obnoxious PSA (because now that I'm a mother I think I have to be everyone's mother): if you do nothing else today, if you have an outstanding RSVP floating around for anything at all, REPONDEZ, S'IL VOUS PLAIT already. Honestly. You know whether or not you can go to the thing within a day of receiving the invitation, usually, and it takes one second of your life to send your reply. 9 times out of ten it won't even cost you a stamp. And you are seriously affecting someone's life. Just be nice, just be courteous, it really makes a difference.

I can't for the life of me figure out why people don't just do it. It's the easiest thing. Yes, I'm frustrated about the response rate for a work event, but this is just in general.

Back to your regularly scheduled Monday. Here's a song that's starting up a theme for the week. I'll explain tomorrow, when I'm less annoyed.

Yes, That's Totally a Dude Singing

Meetings out the wazoo! My job isn't typically so meeting-y, so these types of days take their toll. It's good to change it up, though. Keeps things interesting. I will reward my busy bee-ness tonight with the season premiere of It's Always Sunny and a tipple or two from my mama-sized juicebox (I want so badly to link the clip of juice-deprived Buster Bluth discovering Lucille's wine stash but youtube is failing me). I would likely reward myself with these things no matter what kind of day I had, but it's nice to think that it will feel really earned tonight. And yes you read that correctly, I do occasionally drink my wine from a box now. I have my reasons.

This weekend is supposed to feel like fall and I am thrilled. Bring on the flannel and fleece! Bring on the apple-and-pumpkin air! It won't last, and then winter will come all too soon, but I'm ready for a taste now. Conversely, here's an extremely summery song I never got around to linking in the thick of it. It reminds me of hanging out in my Memere's tidy trailer listening to my aunt and uncle's 45s all afternoon long. Aunt Patti was the coolest person I could imagine back then, and frankly probably still is.