Friday, February 29, 2008

Are you Pregnant or Just Fat? Post Two Today.

Last night I was at a town organized meeting. Several associates, ladies especially approached me whom I had not seen since the early fall. Politely and smilingly they treated me as If nothing had changed. NOTHING!!!!

Here I am, six months pregnant, my stomach sticks out further than my (ahem) chest, my shirt pretty much accentuates the swelling location of my carried child, and they act as if nothing has changed! Then, when I hint that the swell in my midsection is not just fat but a new life, they respond immediately. "I couldn't even tell!" or "How far along are you?" or most usually both comments at the same time.

Most pregnant woman start taking on that luscious pregnant glow, an obvious lump thrusting into the room. I must just look uncomfortable and fat. Perhaps this is a lesson for the un-pregnant Kelly to carry with her. Lose weight. People can't tell whats baby and whats bulge. Maybe after meeting my daughter they were certain I was done at One.

Freaky Light Bulbs and Hair Balls

Lets see if I can jog some psychedelic memories here for a moment. Remember those light bulbs covered in heat resistant resin that looked like brightly colored porcupines? They are very important to this story.

Yesterday afternoon, in the midst of trying to prepare for an evening meeting and compose a Pinky and the Brain style report for a Client, I was approached by the small and suspiciously quiet child. She said "clean momma?" And brought her hands up to my eye level.

If a two year old plays in petrolium jelly, her hands look a little like those porcupine lightbulbs. Being an intelligent Mom, I of course asked the right question. "What did you get into?"

"Lotion, Momma." she said, and began to reach for my arm to smear it in. Fortunately petroleum jelly is a lot like lotion, greasy lotion, but the layer I couldn't scrape off her fingers ended up getting absorbed back into her hands or her shirt... I'm not sure which.

"Where did you find this?" I asked calmly. She led me down the hall to the nursery. The first thing I notice is Bombay, the shy kitten licking herself on the back of the chair. She is cleaning an odd looking cream out of her satiny black fur. As the little girl has an attention span that shrinks rapidly when she believes she is going to be in trouble, she excitedly points out the Bombay cat. "Kitty" she says, and then she points under the cradle. "Lotion Kitty!" She exclaims excitedly.

I should explain here, a moment. We have two cats. One Bombay is just now allowing our daughter to place one or two fingers on her back. She usually uses a three feet rule. The other, Zarya could care less what the two year old does to her, as long as the torture resembles petting, and does not cut off air flow.

Zaryas back side was slathered with petroleum jelly, sculpted into shapes and brushed flat along her sides in deft, small handed brush strokes. The container (less than 3 ounces of the gooey stuff) lay, uncapped next to her. She looked up at me from her sleeping position as if to say, "Oh, you're here... get this stuff out of my hair."

Skin is easier to remove petroleum jelly from than half Persian cat fur. Fortunately, the contents of cat lax, the anti-hairball medicine for cats, is almost 90% petroleum jelly. My chances of finding hair balls in my house this month are minimal, and i will forever have an image of my daughters hands, transformed into freaky light bulbs.

Thursday, February 28, 2008

Because HE made me do it.

Usually I have a few minutes in the morning to sit down and write an essay. This morning, I woke with the memory of urinary troubles, the thought that the pain in my kidneys was not proper, and that achey feeling that comes with sickness. My writing time was sucked up into the process of purchasing 100% cranberry juice, chocolate milk for the small child, and various other groceries. Then I decided to pay bills.

There are many chores that you can do with a 2 year old that are fun and exciting for Good reasons. Grocery shopping is always fun with our daughter. Paying bills takes about 5 times longer than it should and includes getting your freshly goldfinch-cream colored living room decorated with bright Crayola red marker. We get to go grocery shopping again and buy some of those "magic" erasers to get rid of the "magic" "washable" marker.

Wednesday, February 27, 2008

Little Chef; BIIIG mess

Our two year old decided she wanted muffins for breakfast. Being a non-morning oriented cook, I had the perfect recipe for home cooked morning marvels. I whipped out a "just add water" muffin mix (blueberry) from my pantry. My little chef went to work. She opened the pouch without creating a disaster (YES). She dug in the drawers for a spoon. She tasted the non-hydrated mix. She "stirred" a process that involves using the spoon to fling muffin mix across the black kitchen counters.

We added water together. Last time, she poured it on the counter and the muffins just weren't right, which Pete thought was my doing. He has reason, I failed instant pancake mixes. Then she pointed out each separate muffin tin as I scooped in the lumpy glop. When the oven beeps, I'll slide them in, and we'll have a delicious breakfast. Thank you, whoever designed a two ingredient recipe. Thank You also, whomever is responsible for cleaning spray. You have made my morning, and my toddlers an event to remember.

Tuesday, February 26, 2008

Crazy Ideas; Gypsy Blood; Japan

This morning, my husband made me こひ。(Ko-hi or Coffee) He was being nice, because I was very upset last night. We are making one of those family adjustments that come when a new goal is introduced. Pete is learning Japanese. Unlike most people (me included) who study stuff on their own, he is the self motivated enough he will suceed. I try to help. I love languages and owe him the chance at one graduate degree or crazy idea. Of course, this isn't really a sacrifice on my part. If he learns Japanese, I know i can get him to move to Japan. All I have to do is say, "lets" and he'll have bought plane tickets.

What an exciting way to introduce small children to a different culture, and satisfy my own personal desire to travel more. All I need to do now is keep him focused on his chosen language, learn some basic conversation, and keep our small children from destroying the 感じ (kanji) cards. As you can tell by this post, I've already mastered the art of getting Japanese to appear in my typing.

I might need to make sure I can cook with what I would find in a Japanese kitchen and grocery too, but I find that concept exciting. When I was younger, my teachers and friends used to tease me that I had gypsy blood. This antiquated stereotype was meant to show that I loved to travel, that my spirit wandered. I think I just have natural curiosity. I want to know people, cultures and countries, not on a who level but on a why level, deep below the surface.

Move to Japan? No problem. Here are the plane tickets.

Monday, February 25, 2008

Sneezing, Peeing and growing.

My nose twitched. I snuffled, I sniffed. I pressed my knees together and tightened all the right muscles, but the sneeze came anyways. Full bladdered and pregnant, I felt my bladder leak slightly at the same time. Curses. Some things about pregnancy are not only uncomfortable and unfortunate, but also pretty embarrassing.

Its getting to the point where I can't get off the couch without rolling, or getting a push from a helpful, heavier person. I'm laughing about it, but I'm also a little sad. Suddenly, my ability to dress myself is deteriorating. I will spend the next three months stretching to accomplish the most mundane and private tasks.

While the outside is becoming limited, the inside of my body is moving often and in many different directions. In true infant style, these gymnastic displays happen between bedtime and the morning alarm. The cats are afraid of the movement, and tend to vacate their usual resting place the second it twitches. My daughter is fascinated, and presses back at the unusual shapes.

I love them, until a foot, elbow or head thrusts up into my stomach, causing severe and sudden heartburn. Pregnant women are the only creatures on earth who can honestly say they have thought about which need was more important, the need to pee or puke. The last thing you want to have happen at that point and time is to suddenly sneeze.

POST رSCRIPT: I posted this the first time, read it, sneezed and have just changed my pants. I wonder if i add a comment about winning the lottery whether it will come true too?

Sunday, February 24, 2008

Morning notes; Color character and clothes

My daughter just put on her third pair of pants this morning. Though she is potty training, the other pairs are clean and dry as can be. One pair matched Daddies, but sagged off of her no-longer diaper covered butt. One pair had flowers on it, but hung over her heels. This pair fits to the ankles, is still loose at the waist, and has hearts on it "Like frog panties." she tells me. At least childrens cloths are small and fit into the laundry machines in large batches.

Color has centralized itself this morning as we re-assembled the living room of our house. Gone, finally, is the cafe-au-lait color and cranberry-mauve roman blinds. In place is a goldfinch cream, accented with a blue hued slate and alabaster blinds. Coffee is confined to my mug, and looks pleasant in there. I'm still trying to figure out how to make goldfinch cream. It must involve a blender, a bird (or at least the feathers) and a little bit of inhumane action.

I feel happier in the morning. Maybe its the lighter shades, the greater light reflectivity, the sense of accomplishment, or just the concept that I'm no longer drinking my wall color. Change is good for me, good for us. Little bits of change working toward some greater goal helps us feel empowered.

Now that the colors of our lives reflect our personal space, we can better concentrate on living. For me that means doing a couple loads of very small laundry. For Our Daughter, exploring the extra mobility provided by panties. For Pete it means getting a chance to use the computer which I've been hogging this morning. Its his fault. He left it in our beautiful new living room.