I still have an entire 60 minutes left to officially speak about Thanksgiving in the present tense. Hopefully everyone, turkey lovers and not, have enjoyed their days as much as D and I have. Of course I'm only assuming that he has had a good Thanksgiving, but I feel like it should be pretty accurate assumption because he has been able to watch both football games that were important to him. Typically in my mom's house there is no T.V. on during family time and with us spending Thanksgiving at my sister's in P.A. the rule is basically the same. But this year I made an effort to make sure the games were on and to my surprise? We all, including my mother, sat together with the game playing and no one collapsed.
Even with all the drama surrounding this holiday, and not all of the family willing to participate, I think I can honestly say it has been one of the best Thanksgiving's we've had in a while. I don't know exactly what made that way, I'm sure D would attribute it to the football, but it's been the day has been very enjoyable. Tomorrow morning, bright and early at 5 a.m. my sister, mom and I will embark in what will be a 2nd year tradition and shop. I am thoroughly looking forward to it. And waking up 5 a.m.? No problem, I'll probably be awake anyway, we don't sleep well these days. But, I'm thankful for it because it means that so far I have been able to carry this little cherub for 36 weeks and that thought that makes me even more thankful for D for being such an amazing husband, for friends who feel like family and the family who will always be my best friends.
Friday was just plain awful and if this was the Annie movie someone would echo "You can say that again". I hate when my Friday's are like that because it's my day. I revel in waking up all by myself, drinking my (very small) cup of coffee and enjoy the morning of it just being me. I should have known it wasn't going to go well. For starters the coffee broke the night before, all though I woke up by myself I was awoken with a wonderful after taste of indigestion lingering in my mouth. I really shouldn't be to shocked about the outcome of the day.
But, no more drama. Well, no more drama outside that of what's coming in now 4 weeks which D and I are diligently preparing for by attending the ever popular Lamaze class. As it turns out this tradition many couples typically look forward to. And you all know that D and I march to the tune of our drummer (as my mother always says through gritted teeth) so obviously we are not one of those couples. In all honesty neither one of us really wanted to go but due to the overwhelming "It's so worth it's" from friends we under great peer pressure signed up. Because we are extreme creatures of habit, neither of us were willing to give up our evenings to take the class. After both of us working all day, and me being pregnant and working all day, come 7 p.m. we prefer to be in for the evening (with the exception of dinner invitations...we will break tradition for food, let's just make that clear) so the 7-9 class was not working out in our mental day planners. Plus, my aerobics class is every Monday and Wednesday. And knowing the above, you've gotta understand what a sacrifice it is for me so the Tuesday class was definitely out. I couldn't fathom 3 nights in a row. And just for the record I am willing to sacrifice my down time in the evening rather than my thighs so hence I exercise right after work. I hate it, but that's clearly another tirade for a different evening. So, this is why D and I chose the Sunday class from 10-12. We said, like any good Christians should, that we would go to the first part of church and then leave for the class. Unfortunately we are very bad Christians and slept in and then went to class. D loves having the excuse that I need my rest.
As stated above, neither of us really wanted to go. And it wasn't because of the nature of the class but rather it was a class with other couples. We don't do other couples very well. This is why we got married you see. As teenagers other people just sorta annoyed us. We always ended up bailing from whatever group we were hanging out in and would just go do our own thing. We've clicked since 1993 but have never really found it easy for others to click with us. So the thought of spending 2 hours with other couples filled us with all sorts of uncomfortable feelings. But, like many times before since we met, we both knew we would just get through it and have each other to role our eyes at. Out of the 8 couples (not contacting us) there, we found the couple next to us to have the similar sarcasm that D and I cherish in our marriage. For instance? When the instructor said how the mom's would appreciate "touch" during the contractions, my husband and the other man surprising chuckled at the same time. I don't do snuggly touchy feely when in pain or discomfort or in the summer. It was nice to know I wasn't the only one. We also found the couple to the other side of us to be quite the unique pair. She, a 42 Latino woman with 18 yr. old and a 14 yr. old children. He, in his early 30's that looked like he just walked out of the Soprano's. As we left class he walked out with us stopping at his tinted windowed BMW parked in the Handicap spot. No, he wasn't handicap, just cool enough to park there.
And talking about being cool enough. I received a box today from Amazon.com and we all know what that means don't you? It means that someone bought me something off my registry. But, not just someone, to my melting hearts surprise it was Mary. People, she made me feel loved and her sweet gift will make my Camille feel snug as a bug in a rug. Seriously. Just look at watch she got us:
No, not the kitty, the blanket wrap which is one of the many cool baby things that I drooled over while doing my registry at Babies R Us. It's sickening how much cool things they have, really. Target used to be one of the few stores I could just walked around in forever, now I've turned a new domestic corner in my life and find myself perusing through Babies R Us. I'm so turning into a Mama. But a Mama with no drama!
I insist for somebody to please, please give me a time-out. Tell me that I'm no longer allowed to receive phone calls, emails or instant messages.
The last 2 months here in Princess and Johnsy land have been filled with drama. I'm not going to say that it's been stressful or upsetting because up until this point I have not allowed for it phase me much. I've got better things going on in my life, my "perfect world" than the complexities of what has been brewing. Notice? I haven't even written about here in such an open forum. I've really only confided in one close friend and that was only to get a respected third person opinion. I've kept it to myself. I've brushed off the hurling accusations, shrugged my shoulders and whispered my typical "whatever" battle cry.
But, like any untreated wound, it will begin to fester and eventually come to a head, which it did yesterday, thanks to assortment of jerks, they finally broke me. And, let's not fail to mention that the fact I'm even writing this in such an open forum for that has been strictly prohibited. "They" find it very unfair that my counterpart and I would have the audacity to do such a thing. Well, you know what I say to that? The hell with all of you as I ferociously type away.
You know what really amazes me the most though? How, for some unknown reason, there's an unspoken rule that your family, and your family only has been given this powerful right to hurl false accusations at you, degrade and blame you on many levels and then? If you can even fathom it? You are supposed to just be there little marionette doll and take it quietly, because, well, they're family and they can treat however they damn well please. And in the end? They are not even expected to apologize.
Folks, this pregnant girl has had enough. I screamed out it utter frustration and pain yesterday and I cried hysterically from the hurtful accusations that were thrown my way as I was called childish from the left, intolerant from the right and behind me thrown the responsibility of someone elses life choices. I fell under the weight of these accusations and found myself empty and crushed. Childish? Intolerant? Responsible for someone else's life choices? These are the weapons that each person chose to use in the battle yesterday. Can I tell you how deeply each one of them cut me and how hurt they have made me? I've sat back and have been there punching bag. I haven't said a word. I haven't made any communication. I have tried to be the mature one here.
I obviously need to change my tactics because somehow, my counterpart and I are the ones getting hurt and injured and this wasn't even about us in the first place. This is a state of emergency and in such a state of emergency certain things must close down until the streets are safe again. And? They will reopen when apologies are made from all sides. Until then, can't me out.
Friends, family, fellowmen....I have sunk to new lows in this pregnancy, so so low and even more humiliating than the time I thought there was a problem with the shower head but in reality? It was really just my Venus razor that I forgot to turn off. So yes, more embarrassing than that.
I'm exercising tonight and I notice how I strangely smell of Cheerios. Maybe it was possible, since I had Cheerios for breakfast that I was now sweating Cheerios? The aerobics instructor laughed, never said it wasn't possible so I stuck with that theory.
Let's fast forward to this evening. I'm home, finishing up the laundry when I take a nice relaxing break on the couch and notice that I still have my bra on...what am I, crazy? So, that gets removed and around that same time Camille starts her kicking fit so like any good Momma-to-be I place my hands on my stomach to bond with my baby. As I'm rubbing my stomach I notice a bump under my shirt which I just thought was the string to my shorts. But then I got to thinking that it was kinda high for the string to be sitting. So I look under my shirt to investigate and do you know what I found? Do you really want to know?
I soggy Cheerio. Apparently my bra is also a Cheerio catcher.
Yes, I know, I am so passed due getting these belly shots up but, give me a break here. When you've got an apartment entirely underwater and a family in the whirlwind of WWIII you seem to find yourself forgetting important things like this. But I have an even better excuse. While going through all the belly shots in my album I realized that every single pic is of me in some type of grubbies. This poor child will think that her Momma didn't have any sense of fashion and just laid around eating bon bons all through her pregnancy. I've been bound and determined to get some photo's of me in all my cute maternity outfit splendor. The only problem is by the time D gets home I'm usually sacked out after a long day and the cute little maternity outfit? It's found it's way on the floor of my walk in closet only being replaced with comfy non cute t-shirt and bottoms. Now, I will warn you, the belly? She's a big one, much larger than when you saw her last and growing by leaps and bounds by the week, so, brace yourselves.
And here we are in all our magnificent pregnancy splendor after being up all night with a horrible and cruel case of indigestion. These days milk doesn't like me so I avoid it like the plague. Apparently the McDonalds fruit and yogurt parfait does actually have real yogurt in it as opposed to fake yogurt, you know. I was reminded over and over again at 12 a.m., 1 a.m., 2 a.m. and finally at 4 a.m. when I just gave up, stayed awake and played with the cat.
There you have it. I will be the Thanksgiving Turkey this year or at least people will confuse me for one and that is just okay. Miss Priss is in the throws of a full tantrum. She is has realized her swimming space has suddenly grown smaller so at this moment she flailing inside furious at her cramped corners. What does she expect at 35 weeks? The Ritz?
Monday night, when I went to bed, I left Camille's room looking like this:
Strangely, when I woke up Tuesday morning, it looked a little more like this:
Confused? Well, so was I as I stood in the hallway at 5 a.m. really really needing to pee but was stopped by the feeling of water at my feet. My first thought? The cat peed on the carpet. As I took another step, I thought "Wow! The cat really peed on the carpet". But somehow it sorta register that maybe something isn't right here so I turned on the kitchen light and, to my poor pregnant minds surprise my entire apartment was covered in water. The bathroom, hallway, kitchen, front room, and Camille's room covered in at least 2 inches of water. As stood in there in shock I considered how I should handle this new situation....at 5 a.m. It was apparent I had 3 choices:
1. Wake up D and tell him that no, my water didn't break but obviously some inanimate objects did.
2. Let D sleep and frantically run around bailing the water out of the apartment.
3. Quietly crawl back into bed, pretending I hadn't discovered the apartment covered in water and let him figure it out when he wakes up.
Now, I'd like to say that I was leaning heavily on option #2. But sadly option #3 was so tempting, I so badly just wanted to crawl back into bed because the night had been going oh so well. I had, up to that point, absolutely no heartburn and was actually sleeping through the night. The only reason I went with option #1 was because, remember how I mentioned I had to pee? Well, I really really had to pee and standing in 2 inches of water just wasn't helping. So, I quietly whispered D's name, figuring my sleep like a rock husband would take forever to wake up. To my surprise, he almost jumped out of bed as if he had programmed himself for a early wake up call for Ms. Priss appearance. I think he was a little disappointed to hear that it wasn't the baby but the apartment. Covered in water.
You know, D hadn't taken off a day of work since he started back in August and he was due a little vacation and it was almost like being at the beach, almost. We had the water, plenty of it. We had sand from the cats kitty litter (hint hint: in turns out that the clumpable litter and wet cat paws is a really really big sandy mess) and the swooshing sound from the combination of the dehumidifier and full blast fast going.
It turns out that the problem began in our neighbors apartment. The hose going from the wall to his toilet snapped in the middle of the night. After his place filled completely with water, every square inch that is, the water then drained into our place. Thank goodness we had some dry land, our entire bedroom got saved and part of the front room. Of course, the part of the front room that did get hit had to be the part with D's monster HDTV on it. We actually heard the water as it drained into the room closer and closer to the T.V. It turns out, that when water is draining through the walls into your apartment, it makes this cute little squealing sound.
We are not dry yet. The carpets are still a little damp even after the carpet guys came in with this super duper water sucker and drained 20 gallons of water from the carpet. We had already gotten at least 15 gallons out before they came with shop vacs. Now we have this lovely smell in the apartment, the smell of damp carpet, similar to that of a wet dog. The carpet people will be back on Friday to clean and destink the carpets...or something like that, they had some professional name for it, but you get the point. Until Friday, I get to live with all my furniture either in different rooms or pulled away from the damaged carpet and get to experience the lovely smell of wet dog. It could have worse, I know that. I could work for inconsiderate employers who would insist that I try to make into work regardless of my apartment being under water. Oh wait, I do work for inconsiderate employers who did ask what time they should expect me into work. That's D I was thinking, he works for the nice employer. So nice that he actually stopped by to see if everything was okay. And no, you can't work for him, he's D's and we don't share!
But, all in all, this will be an experience that I am sure in years, heck maybe even weeks to come we'll look back and laugh at. I am proud of us though, not shocked, just proud. We worked together as a team, didn't bicker once and got the job done. And to celebrate? We stuffed our faces over a Hibachi table tonight. So, it's that time again where I begin my voyage to bed through the insanely loud hallway that we should now refer to as our own personal wind tunnel.
Do you realize that, come tomorrow, Thanksgiving is exactly 2 weeks away?
Do you also realize that it means that in 2 weeks I will be 36 weeks pregnant.
And also, the job has put out an ad in the paper to replace me, I'm being replaced which means in 6 weeks I will no longer be working here. Meaning? When I fill out any other document in 6 weeks, and it asked for my occupation, I will check the box now that reads "Homemaker" instead of "Non-profit" which technically, I'll still be working non-profit because, duh, there will be no profit financially from my new career move.
And with Thanksgiving being only 2 weeks away, there is still drama in the family. So, who the hell knows if we will even get together for Thanksgiving because as it stands right now, with the drama in the family, I'll be buying myself a Rotisserie Chicken and eating it with me, D and the cat because really, I'm not about the drama these days. Can you tell? I've only posted about it twice and even then it was sugar coated. No drama. My life is good and I've worked hard as hell to make it that way. Why is that these things always happen around the holidays, dammit, it gets us all the time.
Okay, that's all I'm saying about that. But, I'm ready as I can be for Ms. Camille's appearance. I examined the breast pump this weekend and got somewhat of a clue how it will work. I went through the gazillion bottles my sister gave me and washed the ones I hope Camille will use. Let's pray that Camille likes this brand because I really think these bottles are pretty. Yes, I said pretty. And, I bought baby wash and lotion, wipes AND a bag of diapers. The only thing I had not done was signed up for Lamaze, until Monday when I finally remembered to call under severe peer pressure. Everyone says I need it and since I know the last thing about labor maybe it would be nice to learn this stuff. But, because I called so late the class will run into my 38th week, hopefully they'll go over the whole "this is what contractions are" thing early, just in case. I have this dream that I can go a week early. Laugh all of you who are mom's, I know, I'm a dreamer but I can wish because I really don't want to spend Christmas in the hospital.
I promise I'll post a new belly picture soon. It has grown, it's big, I won't say huge right now because I know in a couple weeks I will gigantic. So, let's just call it big for the moment.
Yes people, I finally made it official and in writing informed that powers to be that I will not be returning upon the birth of Camille. I wish I could say it was a tough decision, but really it's been the easiest one to make in regards to this whole becoming a parent process. The hard part was actually telling them. Which? Turned out one of the powers to be was quite understanding, maybe just a little too understanding. Now, now, don't go and try to tell me that I'm being negative because, if you have ever met these people you just know how they tend to behave. When they're really nice to you about something that they speak so negatively about it just makes a girl wonder. Like, for instance, are they secretly relieved that I'm not returning because I am actually a big pain in their butts? Are they counting the bucks they get to save by not hiring anyone into my position? Personally, I'm leaning more towards the first conclusion because it's no secret folks, I'm sort of a outspoken type of person and when I catch wind of others whispering things about me behind my back, powers to be or not, I tend to call people up on it....yes, that actually does happen a little to frequently by powers to be. I'm going to a fair type thingy tonight as a rep for the place of employment with many others who do the same type of work we do. Do I plan to see if there will be any bites for someone in need of per diem work? That'll just have to be between me and Camille for now!
