Monday, 30 May 2011

Being thrown to the wolves...

So this weekend was the "In Law" Baby Shower – which was great; it was nice and intimate: just me, my sister in law, my partner's step mom, a couple of his aunts and my mother in law - along with 20 of her closest friends. Seriously. It was essentially a house full of people I've never met before! I'll admit, going in, it felt a little bit like I was being thrown to the wolves. 

I was pleasantly surprised that their teeth weren't quite that sharp (although one or two had tongues that were). They all had advice to give. Some of it was great... amazing even. Some of it was a little presumptuous considering they hadn't met before and were completely ignorant to who I am as a person and what my perceptions in life are. But such is the generation gap. 

These women have all done this before, so I listened and filed as much of their knowledge away as I could, adding to my reserve bank of all things baby (hey I might need that advice later). For the most part they were super sweet and giving. And, even though I was exhausted, I ended up leaving the shower with all my limbs and only a couple claw marks.

Not part of the pack. But not dinner either.

Teasing  ;) 

Our little girl is so blessed to have these women come and spend an afternoon to celebrate her. I only wish J could have been there with me. 

An interesting moment at the shower for me though ~ a lot of women made some sort of negative reference to this couple in Toronto and/or joked about us raising our child genderless or naming her Storm. This was a highlight for me because, as I mentioned above, most of these ladies have no idea what I'm all about...

(open arms, "welcome to the family" still apply? lol) ...

So rather than get into a debate or go on a a huge rant about this, (which I won't do here either, as everyone else in the country already seems to have done that) I listened with mild annoyance and heightened amusement to their assumptions and judgement... while imagining their reactions to my response if I were to give one. hehe 

I actually need to stop for a second and give myself a little pat on the back for behaving myself as well as I did... 

*pat *pat 

"way to go Tricia!" 

*high five 

Okay I'm done. Carrying on... 

I am going to go on record by saying this:

1. I ADORE the name Storm (something to do with my love of the Orisha Oya or my fascination with the super powers of the X-Men) and might actually consider it as a name if J would let me.

2. I  think what they are doing, albeit extreme, is pretty awesome. (Read the mom’s response to the frenzy that came after the article in the Star. She’s incredible.)

3. While I was opening gifts, one of my partner’s aunts actually said that if she knew it was a girl she would have bought a more gender specific gift… proving right there that this couple has a valid point! How are beautiful organic cotton crib sheets, safety locks and receiving blankets not appropriate for a girl? Plus, and please note I am not ungrateful for the wonderful things our babe has received but, if i get one more pastel pink hat or onesie I may vomit or start to tie-dye everything.

And, just for the record... our baby girl got her first truck at the shower! 

A big wooden crane. No dolls.

AWESOME. Totally *@&*!)#! awesome.

Sunday, 22 May 2011

I was told to take a picture of happy

I'm a people watcher. I love just sitting on a terrace, sipping a latte and watching how other people interact with this crazy world of ours. And while I'm constantly watching other people, as I'm sure you are, I often forget that we too are being observed by others.

It's a Saturday morning and J and I are out doing a little pre-rapture looting for the new house, having ice cream for brunch and taking a stroll through the market. Seriously one of the greatest mornings in a long time; running in to friends and soaking up the sunshine. But nothing tops the moment when we decide to leave. 

Organic Jerky in hand we make our way across the market square, prepared to end our morning of procrastination and head home to get to work on the house, when this random woman (later discovered to be Christine Schroeder) comes up to us and asks if she can take our picture. Before I agree, I ask what the photo is for and she says... "oh I'm not a professional photographer by any means. I'm in this photography seminar today and our instructor sent us to the market to take pictures of 'happy'. I saw you and your husband, and your belly and thought, that's happy."

! I know, right!? Why does everyone assume just because I'm growing his baby inside me that he's my husband? But that's another blog for another day.

And even though she can't see the baby punching my bladder, the heart burn crawling up my esophagus, the pain shooting across my back; she sees the glow and the love that J and I are still growing between us and our little parasite. And for that I'm grateful.

So a hug and a smile with a click...

 Yeah, that's Jared's happy face.
... and a "please put your hand on your belly" with one more click ...

Notice the Jerky ----->

... and we're on our way with many thanks to said would be photographer. Then I realize, I have no pregnancy pictures let alone any with my boy in them, so I rush back to give her my card - and she actually kept her word and sent them to me. Too cool.
Even if she hadn't sent me the pictures, the fact that the two of us caused someone to think "happy" when they saw us walk by made me pause and relish in the fact that I really am. Through all the craziness that is the pregnancy, the new relationship, the house, the renovations, the job... all of it adds up to happy when you don't focus on the negative. And when you pause you realize the negative is such a very tiny percentage of being.

Wednesday, 18 May 2011

Toys are being "tarted" up... oh gods.

She's still in the womb and I am already dealing with the fact that I'm going to have to teach her that (now) unlike her toys, she doesn't have to dress like a tart. Okay okay, I have a couple years before that happens... but at this rate they could end up half naked by then. Oi!

tart 2  (tärt)
a. A pastry shell with shallow sides, no top crust, and any of various fillings.
b. Chiefly British A pie.
a. A prostitute.
b. A woman considered to be sexually promiscuous.
tr.v. tart·ed, tart·ing, tarts Chiefly British
To dress up or make fancy in a tawdry, garish way. Often used with up.

What do you think of when you think of Troll dolls? I bet it's not "short skirts, bare midriffs, and giant eyes -- okay, well maybe the eyes....

From Today: "The original trolls dolls, left, debuted in the 1960s with chubby bodies, unruly hair, and pug noses. More recently they've been updated — while they still have only four fingers on each hand, the new Trollz line created for the animated TV series by DiC Entertainment features short skirts, bare midriffs, giant eyes, and even styled hair"
Honestly I'm more upset that they made the Trollz look more like people than actual trolls.

Ahhh, that's better.

But seriously, they're now making cartoons and children's toys... well, grow up. Check out  Dora the Explorer:

She couldn't have just stayed a cute chubby little girl?
But to mess with our beloved Strawberry Shortcake and Rainbow Brite!? I am not thrilled with the fact that all the dolls/toys/cartoons now have flowing wind blown hair

I'm not a prude by any means... I just don't think that we need to rush the sexiness - It would be nice if kids could just be kids.  

Sunday, 8 May 2011

... because I don't feel like a mama yet!

A lot of people have either wished me a happy Mother's Day (thank you) or asked how I plan to celebrate it with babe in womb. Answer: I'm not. Why? has been the popular follow up question. I don't know why I would. I'm not a mama... yet. I will admit though...  I'm starting to love that title and will be proud to wear it, along with my heart, on my sleeve for all to see once our ninja is born. (yes, we're having a ninja - see last post)

It's strange. I just don't feel like a mother yet. I feel like I still have dues to pay before I can call myself that. 3 more months of kicks to the ribs, constant trips to the washroom, ridiculous back pain and moods that swing higher than poodle skirt donning girls did in the 50s. :) And... well, everything that mothers have endured come the big day.

Although I'm really looking forward to the moments of motherhood that will be; I'm aware that, overall, it's not going to be a Norman Rockwell painting. I look at how strong my mother is and everything she went through ~ not only to bring me into the world but to help raise me and try to teach me what she thought I would need to know to get through life as a strong, independent and intuitive person. Sure we've fought and we've had our moments of hating each other but we also had and are still having moments that allow us to feel this intense, loving bond we share.

I only hope that through all the mistakes I will make as a mother, my daughter will still adore me as much as I adore my own. For now...

... I simply don't feel that until I have tackled any of these things that I should refer to myself as a mama. I guess I see all the things my friends have gone through with their babes/toddlers/children/teens and I am in such awe of, and have so much respect for, them that it seems to lessen the word "mother" if I were to call myself that already. It's a powerful transition and an important ritual in a woman's life. Sure I'm giving my body over to my adorable little parasite, nourishing her and attempting to start a bonding process with her... but a mom? Not yet. My transition has simply started. 

Maybe we could start a "mamas to be" or "goodbye Maiden" day". For now, I give love and tribute to all mothers, my own especially and wish YOU a happy Mother's Day! I hope it's a day full of love and laughter. 

Wednesday, 4 May 2011

Wanted: Patience and filter for mouth

You know those moments where you think certain thoughts but you would never actually say them aloud? *bite me, you totally know what I'm talking about* Yeah, those. Well, normally I can restrain myself; I have the ability to bite by tongue or at least filter what comes out of my mouth or manage to mask the look of abhorrence that appears on my face when someone upsets me, or frankly just irritates me. 

Apparently pregnancy causes you to not only be hormonal, have joyous mood swings, and insane feelings of insecurity; it also causes you to lose all ability to filter your reactions to people.This became painfully obvious to me when I returned to the pool this weekend.

I do high intensity aquafit. Keep in mind this is not water aerobics circa 1982: "and 4 more... and 3... feel that burn... and 2 more and 1... good!" This lady kind of kicks our asses on a regular basis. I've been slacking; with house renovations and baby classes and prenatal yoga (excuse excuse excuse) I haven't been in a while and let's just say the day I returned was also the day patience left me. Let me rephrase... the little amount of patience I do have, left me.

It started with the gossips - the "I just turned 50 and am going to go to the pool to appear to be trying to stay in shape" otherwise known as the irritating as *#(! women who are there to socialize rather than work out. So, they stand, yes STAND in the middle of the pool while we're trying to do bends, crunches and run from one side of the pool to the other. One lady actually had the audacity to ask the life guard if there was anything he could do to turn up the heat in the pool! Seriously! Poor thing! Water is too cold today?
"I hear if you actually move around you'll warm up" was my response as I continued my lunges past her. Oops. Inside voice, inside voice... ouch lady... that glare hurts.

Then there's the old dude that stares - normally I just tune him out. Seriously, he's 60 some years old, he's there to get some blood pumping (insert crude joke here) and he's surrounded by only 4 other men and about 20 women ranging from 25 to 75 in nothing but their swim suits. I get it's hard not to look, but the ogling gets to me and this time I just stare back. 

old dude: staring
me: staring back wide eyed - raised eyebrows and all
old dude: still lookin'
me: staring back
me: blink blink
me: wide eyes
old dude: staring
me: squinty "grrrr you better look away now Mister" eyes

Finally he turns away and focuses on his water weights and resistance training.

All I can think to myself is "did I really just do that... Jesus. Tricia you are a serious bitch."

Alas, that was not the bitchiest of the bitch moments. I haven't told you about the New Girl... or as I like to label her "The Traveler". We've all been there. I remember my first class 3 years ago. I fell over, I bumped into a few people. BUT what I have a hard time with, is the traveler who is doing that because she isn't paying attention to the instructor due to the fact that she is too busy pretending to know how to do everything already. 

First incident: left leg lift... she travels backwards, into me. And turns around and glares at me for the bump. I smile. Second incident: side left leg lift... she travels backwards, into me. I politely tell her that she's traveling again. She apologizes and I explain that I simply don't want to end up kicking her. 
Third incident: right leg lift... she travels backwards and chooses not to look over her shoulder as she is moving 5 feet backwards straight into my extended foot that hits her firmly in the ass. Okay, there may have been a little assistance with the amount of pressure said foot put on her backside, but did I mention I was having a baby ninja? 

I think she was just reaching out.


Necessary? probably not, but like I said it was a morning full of "moments".