For those of you who haven't read of my recent testosterone-filled body and the increased friskiness it has caused, please reference here. For those who have, read on.
Last week I was given the ludicrous task of waiting for the Verizon guy to come hook up our DSL. Verizon is so generous that they give you a window of 8-5pm. I was not happy with this, but seeing as they "accidently" turned off our DSL a week early and I had been a slave to the few free wireless networks on my block, I was willing to wait so that I could go back to obsessively checking my email and facebook.
Well, luck would have it that Mr. Verizon called to say he'd be here at 10am! I felt totally liberated and relieved. Until Mr. Verizon walked through the door. MEOW!
DISCLAIMER: I have never had a hot service guy before. Cute, yes. Nice tush, sure. But the whole package....this was a first.
Mr. Verizon was tan, he was muscular, he had a sexy accent I couldn't place, he was friendly, had great teeth, was wearing a leather tool belt (I have a thing for men with tools)...I was literally giggling and starry-eyed and watching him like a hawk as he walked around our tiny apartment trying to figure out where to install the DSL wire. I was trying to be cool, but it probably wasn't working. I'm sure I came across as a lioness stalking some prey.
But the package became complete when Mr. Verizon pulled out the drill to end all drills, with a drill bit that was literally a foot and half long---oh my...the phallic symbolism was just overwhelming. He shoved that baby through our entire brownstone wall, muscles flexing, and I felt like I was at the beginning of a bad porno flick. I stood there with my mouth agape.
I recalled the story to hubby that night, literally salivating as I described Mr. Verizon, and he laughed at how insane I must have looked--big pregnant woman oggling Mr. Verizon. Husband is really getting a kick out of my hormonal surges lately.
And, today when moving, I heard a weird noise. I looked in the backyard and there was Mr. Verizon hanging from a telephone pole, looking like he should be wearing a thong instead of beige work pants...Can't say I didn't stop and stare for a while.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Belly button
More gross adventures in pregnancy!
My belly button is turning inside out. It didn't do this with Alexandra, it merely puckered a bit, but this time it's going whole hog--and it itches! Last night, while scratching it/around it, I tried to look at it. Belly button crud was revealing itself and I began to wonder, "Has this belly button crud been deep inside the well of my belly button for 30-some odd years? Ewwww!" and then I went on a mission to get it out.*
*Those of you who know me well know my deep-seeded affection for squeezing, poking, plucking, and removing puss, hairs, crud, etc. Yes, gross. I know.
During my mission to remove the ancient crud, my belly button literally popped inside out--completely! It was fascinating and gross and allowed me to remove the crud (which of course I smelled and it was quite rancid. Adam asked me if I ate it--I DID NOT, but I swear to you, he would have--that man has some gross qualities that did not manifest themselves until after marriage unfortunately...) and then it popped back into it's 3/4 out shape.
Totally gnarly folks.
My belly button is turning inside out. It didn't do this with Alexandra, it merely puckered a bit, but this time it's going whole hog--and it itches! Last night, while scratching it/around it, I tried to look at it. Belly button crud was revealing itself and I began to wonder, "Has this belly button crud been deep inside the well of my belly button for 30-some odd years? Ewwww!" and then I went on a mission to get it out.*
*Those of you who know me well know my deep-seeded affection for squeezing, poking, plucking, and removing puss, hairs, crud, etc. Yes, gross. I know.
During my mission to remove the ancient crud, my belly button literally popped inside out--completely! It was fascinating and gross and allowed me to remove the crud (which of course I smelled and it was quite rancid. Adam asked me if I ate it--I DID NOT, but I swear to you, he would have--that man has some gross qualities that did not manifest themselves until after marriage unfortunately...) and then it popped back into it's 3/4 out shape.
Totally gnarly folks.
Monday, July 13, 2009
Happy Anniversary NAACP
The NAACP (National Association for the Advancement of Colored People) has been getting a lot of NPR coverage lately with its 100th anniversary this year as the nation's largest civil rights organization. Lots of hot topics regarding race have been explored on NPR, such as one this morning entitled "Are we raising our kids to be racist?" Interesting and difficult topics of conversation, but necessary topics of conversation nonetheless.
It wasn't until college that I realized the privileges that came with being White. From the small to the large, I started to see how society was set up to benefit me in myriad ways and it was astounding. I didn't do anything to invite such opportunities, but they were there and worked to my advantage whether I wanted them to or not.
Like most white liberals, I have struggled with these circumstances and the guilt of taking advantage of them as well as the enjoyment of such an easy life in most regards. But, I truly wish our society was not set up in this way--even if this means that I will lose some of the privileges that come with being White. Because, honestly, if the world was equal then the many benefits of being White in society would be lessened. I am okay with that. I know--easy for me to say because I don't know life without these benefits--but I honestly think I'd be okay with a more equality even if that means less perks for me and my kids.
For example, I had this conversation about affirmative action with a co-worker years ago that still resonates in me. She was saying that she was not okay with affirmative action b/c if some student of color beat her kid out of a place at Harvard (if they had the same SAT scores, GPA, extracurriculars, etc, but the kid of color was simply that: a person of color and perhaps of lower socio-economic income) she'd feel slighted and blame affirmative action. I totally disagreed. If my kids can't get into Harvard (and on full scholarship mind you, b/c there's no way my teacher salary will ever be able to cover tuition!) by his/her own means after being raised by two highly over-educated people in White middle-upper class America, then they don't need to go to Harvard. Period. And if some other student of color gets in, who had the same statistics as my kid, GOOD for them b/c my kids won't have had to prove themselves over and over again academically in contrast to the stereotypes associated with racism.
Anyhoo, the NAACP's anniversary got me thinking of all this again. Maybe I'll become a member...There's still so much work to be done. Post-racial society simply b/c we have a Black president? I don't think so.
It wasn't until college that I realized the privileges that came with being White. From the small to the large, I started to see how society was set up to benefit me in myriad ways and it was astounding. I didn't do anything to invite such opportunities, but they were there and worked to my advantage whether I wanted them to or not.
Like most white liberals, I have struggled with these circumstances and the guilt of taking advantage of them as well as the enjoyment of such an easy life in most regards. But, I truly wish our society was not set up in this way--even if this means that I will lose some of the privileges that come with being White. Because, honestly, if the world was equal then the many benefits of being White in society would be lessened. I am okay with that. I know--easy for me to say because I don't know life without these benefits--but I honestly think I'd be okay with a more equality even if that means less perks for me and my kids.
For example, I had this conversation about affirmative action with a co-worker years ago that still resonates in me. She was saying that she was not okay with affirmative action b/c if some student of color beat her kid out of a place at Harvard (if they had the same SAT scores, GPA, extracurriculars, etc, but the kid of color was simply that: a person of color and perhaps of lower socio-economic income) she'd feel slighted and blame affirmative action. I totally disagreed. If my kids can't get into Harvard (and on full scholarship mind you, b/c there's no way my teacher salary will ever be able to cover tuition!) by his/her own means after being raised by two highly over-educated people in White middle-upper class America, then they don't need to go to Harvard. Period. And if some other student of color gets in, who had the same statistics as my kid, GOOD for them b/c my kids won't have had to prove themselves over and over again academically in contrast to the stereotypes associated with racism.
Anyhoo, the NAACP's anniversary got me thinking of all this again. Maybe I'll become a member...There's still so much work to be done. Post-racial society simply b/c we have a Black president? I don't think so.
Friday, July 10, 2009
Testosterone
WARNING: TMI POST!
Men--I don't know how you do it.
I have often expressed a desire to be a man for a day, just to see what goes on in their minds, to play with the man parts (a body part that grows and shoots stuff? cool...), and to see how the world looks at you when you're a man.
Well, I think that growing a baby boy must be the closest thing to that experience I will ever get.
My friends warned me that alongside having a boy came this crazy testosterone surge, which pretty much translates into feeling incredibly randy 24/7, but I didn't believe them. When pregnant with Alexandra I kept Adam at an arm's length--not interested. But this time...whoa, Nelly. I'm like a 16 year old boy. And, not only am I like a 16 year old boy, but I'm 27 lbs heavier and have huge-ass basketball as a belly--that makes for quite a paradox of sorts when you're trying to be sexy and frisky.
And honestly, men, I don't know how you do it. Walking around with this...ummmm....desire shall we call it?...is unnerving! I have expressed this sentiment to many a male friend and my husband, to which a close co-worker replied, "How do we do it? We just take care of business when we need to." I think I'll have a totally different understanding of men and self-love from now on. Seriously, if what I'm feeling is a fraction of what men feel, they are in trouble.
I was in the city the other day and this guy in front of me was checking out this cutie-pie girl in a short skirt, tiny tank top, etc. and made some comment that I couldn't hear but I'm sure was not "Isn't this a beautiful day?" And, in some sick and twisted way, I got him. Scary indeed. Men....wow.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Birth-day Deep Thoughts
There's something about a birthday after having given birth--it's never really quite the same. At least that's how I have felt the past two years, and, coincidentally, now that I am friends and have a relationship with the woman who gave birth to me, the whole concept of me emerging from some woman's womb is much more concrete.
I have these moments of revelation in this pregnancy that just sneak up on me. I guess, unlike with Alexandra for whom I took birth classes, read an insane amount of books, and prepped endlessly for her entry, this pregnancy has been somewhat devoid of birth talk. The talk is more centered around logistics--Do I qualify for FMLA? How will we ever afford my unpaid maternity leave? How much is Cobra coverage for health insurance? Very little has been discussed about the boy actually coming out of me...
But I have been thinking of that today. This little fella has to come out at some point, and it's up to me, my body, and my gracious and loving husband, midwife, and friends (make-shift doulas!) to help me get him out. Who knows what will happen when that day is upon us...it's totally out of our hands and that drives me crazy. But out he will come, and then that day will be his birthday.
I think mothers really should get massive credit on the days their kids are born. Having just celebrated Alexandra's 2nd, it's becoming hard to remember who I was before her dark head of hair emerged and practically knocked me unconscious in the process. I am sure that having the boy will be an equally life altering experience. Women are truly reborn as mothers the day their kids come out. It's transformative in a million different ways.
So, while I am 35 today, I am thinking a lot of my babes, the woman who had the courage to bring me into this world even though she knew she couldn't keep me, and my mom, who didn't adopt me until December 13th, which is guess is yet another birthday of mine. Wow. What a crazy, tangled web life is...
I have these moments of revelation in this pregnancy that just sneak up on me. I guess, unlike with Alexandra for whom I took birth classes, read an insane amount of books, and prepped endlessly for her entry, this pregnancy has been somewhat devoid of birth talk. The talk is more centered around logistics--Do I qualify for FMLA? How will we ever afford my unpaid maternity leave? How much is Cobra coverage for health insurance? Very little has been discussed about the boy actually coming out of me...
But I have been thinking of that today. This little fella has to come out at some point, and it's up to me, my body, and my gracious and loving husband, midwife, and friends (make-shift doulas!) to help me get him out. Who knows what will happen when that day is upon us...it's totally out of our hands and that drives me crazy. But out he will come, and then that day will be his birthday.
I think mothers really should get massive credit on the days their kids are born. Having just celebrated Alexandra's 2nd, it's becoming hard to remember who I was before her dark head of hair emerged and practically knocked me unconscious in the process. I am sure that having the boy will be an equally life altering experience. Women are truly reborn as mothers the day their kids come out. It's transformative in a million different ways.
So, while I am 35 today, I am thinking a lot of my babes, the woman who had the courage to bring me into this world even though she knew she couldn't keep me, and my mom, who didn't adopt me until December 13th, which is guess is yet another birthday of mine. Wow. What a crazy, tangled web life is...
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
MJ Memorial Words from Me
Have some words to get off my chest:
Several folks have made comments re: MJ being a child molester, fondling boys, how can you like him since you're having a son....blah blah blah. While I'm not denying that the charages against MJ were true or false (he was exonerated from all charges, but so was OJ and we all know he killed Anna Nicole Smith...), here's my two cents.
As a mother, any parent who lets his/her child go spend the night at a grown man's house--regardless of his star status--is INSANE. I mean, really? (to quote my favorite Seth Myers Saturday Night Live Weekend Update skit format). Think about it. Your son comes home, says "Hey ma, I want to go spend the night with that rich guy who lives in a big mansion with llamas and monkeys and other weird animals...He has no kids my age and is 30 years older than me, but he still wants to play video games and eat ice cream and stay up all night...How cool is that? Can I go?" And your parent alarm DOESN'T go off? Really?
I am not saying that any kid deserves any form of sexual abuse, the children are definitely the victims in this possible case as in all cases of minors and sexual assault, but if you--as an adult--willingly sent your child go play at a grown man's house, what the hell is wrong with you?!
Just wanted to shout that out to the world. Sorry baby boy, you ain't goin' to no grown man's slumber party, no matter how famous, rich, or popular he is.
Several folks have made comments re: MJ being a child molester, fondling boys, how can you like him since you're having a son....blah blah blah. While I'm not denying that the charages against MJ were true or false (he was exonerated from all charges, but so was OJ and we all know he killed Anna Nicole Smith...), here's my two cents.
As a mother, any parent who lets his/her child go spend the night at a grown man's house--regardless of his star status--is INSANE. I mean, really? (to quote my favorite Seth Myers Saturday Night Live Weekend Update skit format). Think about it. Your son comes home, says "Hey ma, I want to go spend the night with that rich guy who lives in a big mansion with llamas and monkeys and other weird animals...He has no kids my age and is 30 years older than me, but he still wants to play video games and eat ice cream and stay up all night...How cool is that? Can I go?" And your parent alarm DOESN'T go off? Really?
I am not saying that any kid deserves any form of sexual abuse, the children are definitely the victims in this possible case as in all cases of minors and sexual assault, but if you--as an adult--willingly sent your child go play at a grown man's house, what the hell is wrong with you?!
Just wanted to shout that out to the world. Sorry baby boy, you ain't goin' to no grown man's slumber party, no matter how famous, rich, or popular he is.
Baby Girl is Two
Alexandra Osa turned two on June 25th. I can't even begin to explain how quickly this happened and how shocking it is to me to look at photos of her in my arms two summers ago, a little mushy-mush, and now she's a full-blown person, full of opinions, emotions, beauty, and personality.
I am banking on everyone's reassuring words that I will indeed love baby boy as much as this baby girl, because, quite honestly, I don't know how I can love anything as much as I love her.
AOW stats for you:
Weight: 31.5 lbs
Height: 36 inches (online height predictors put her at 5'9" as a grown up...nice!)
Fave food: yogurt with honey
Won't drink: milk
Skills: jumping, running as fast as a jackrabbit, diapering baby dolls' heads
Adorable: Dance parties with daddy to old school hip hop, kissing mommy's belly
Baby Addictions: Pacifiers (only uses when sleeping, but must have five in crib), books (that's my girl!)
Recent accomplishments: petting a goat named Alex, first big boo-boo on knee
Love that baby girl so much it's literally terrifying.
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