That's right, I have it again. It's been occurring more and more frequently the older I get, and each case is a little more fierce than the previous one. I'm talking baby fever of course. Gah! And I'm not talking about the 'oh, look at the cute little baby' type twinges I'd get once in a blue moon in my early twenties, I'm talking full scale earth shattering uterine twitching type physical cravings for motherhood. And they can't be shaken, no, I've discovered that I've got no choice but to let the fever run it's course. It'll end when it wants to, and in the mean time I am at it's mercy. Each time the fever hits me, it gets a little stronger, and lingers a little longer, accompanied by dreams each night of babies and baby accessories and baby smells and big pregnant bellies. Last night I actually dreamed that I was holding my baby, still covered in after birth goop and not being totally disgusted by it.
It doesn't help that Vancouver is positively infested with young, hip pregnant women right now, maternity stores popping up at a similar rate to Starbucks and Lululemon. In fact, Lululemon has a maternity line now. It's like pregnancy is the latest accessory in Vancouver, and I, being legitimately ill with the baby fever, am enraged by that. Furthermore, I have a friend who is less than a month away from her due date, and I got to spend a weekend recently staring at her lovely round belly and mentally blocking out the talk of gestational diabetes and sore backs and so on.
Normally, to help shake the fever I'd go out dancing all night, drag my sorry ass home at around 9am and try to get a couple of hours of sleep. It's a temporary fix though, I'd spend a week feeling like shit and reveling in the coolness of my all night dance party and reminding myself how I couldn't possibly do stuff like that if I had a stupid baby. Of course in my current state of health, I'm not allowed to drink any alcohol or abuse any substances (they didn't specifically say that, but I'm pretty sure substances are out), so I can't even use my tried and true baby fever remedy. The stupid baby always wins.
Now the situation is interesting, because for the first time in nearly 11 years, I'm not on any form of birth control. Yep, they took it away in light of the whole life-threatening blood clot situation, and then gave me a stern talking to about how it would be very very very dangerous for me to become pregnant right now (pregnancy can increase the risk of blood clots) and the medication I am currently taking would be very very very damaging to any fetus I may decide to hang out with. So it's out of the question at the moment for those reasons (along with us both being in school still, money, blah blah blah, really bullshit reasons for not being ready), but is definitely in the not so distant future. So I have an appointment with a gynecologist to discuss alternate forms of birth control, but not until friggin DECEMBER 20th, and that's just the initial consultation. It'll probably be an IUD, which opens up a whole nother can of worms for me, but that'll be another post, another day. I have work to do, and babies to think about.
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
Thursday, October 20, 2005
Book Reports
Last night I finished the first book of the Chronicles of Narnia series, 'The Magician's Nephew'. This, among other things, has got me thinking about book reports, the essays and papers of yore. If only I could write a book report today, for marks, rather than lab reports, papers, exams, and such.
My father was a highschool woodwork teacher (he's retired now) and so during times of job action by teachers (I can remember 2 strikes from my school days, 1 from primary and one from secondary school), while other children treated the strike like a misplaced sort of spring break, in our house, it was time to work. Book reports were the name of the game, and if we couldn't finish a book in time, we wrote them on videos (some of which we watched on the ill fated Beta), or TV shows (My 2 Dads, Just the 10 of us . . . man, I'm really dating myself here!). Our book reports were marked, grammar and punctuation corrected with a red pen, and handed back to us promptly. In the afternoon we were to bake cookies (foods class) and walk with them to the school (gym class) to deliver the fresh baked goods to the teachers on the picket lines.
How I would like to write one of those reports today. I would so kick my grade five ass. I would write about the many biblical references CS Lewis snuck in to 'The Magician's Nephew', how the Lion Aslan's song created 2 of every animal, who rose from the earth. How Digory has to go and get an apple from a very sacred garden, and the evil witch tries to tempt him into eating it. I would write about how, in 'My 2 Dads' it was totally implausible that Nicole could never figure out which one of her deceased mother's ex boyfriends was really her father. I mean, they have paternity tests, hello, even in 1987. And I would write about how having 4 of the coach's hot daughters accidentally enrolled in an all boy's catholic school was probably some writer's wet dream, or how giving the coach from 'Growing Pains' his own spin off sit com was doomed from the get go.
Ah, book reports. But as the Chronicles of Narnia are set to be re-made as movies starting this December with 'The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe' (which is book #2 in the series, but probably the most famous), I'd highly recommend giving the series a read. It's like the Harry Potter of yore (Yes! I've managed to use the word 'yore' 2, whoops, now 3 times in this post! Sweet!), and by reading them in order, the magic of the worlds makes sense. Now I know how that famous wardrobe came to be.
My support goes to the teachers :)
My father was a highschool woodwork teacher (he's retired now) and so during times of job action by teachers (I can remember 2 strikes from my school days, 1 from primary and one from secondary school), while other children treated the strike like a misplaced sort of spring break, in our house, it was time to work. Book reports were the name of the game, and if we couldn't finish a book in time, we wrote them on videos (some of which we watched on the ill fated Beta), or TV shows (My 2 Dads, Just the 10 of us . . . man, I'm really dating myself here!). Our book reports were marked, grammar and punctuation corrected with a red pen, and handed back to us promptly. In the afternoon we were to bake cookies (foods class) and walk with them to the school (gym class) to deliver the fresh baked goods to the teachers on the picket lines.
How I would like to write one of those reports today. I would so kick my grade five ass. I would write about the many biblical references CS Lewis snuck in to 'The Magician's Nephew', how the Lion Aslan's song created 2 of every animal, who rose from the earth. How Digory has to go and get an apple from a very sacred garden, and the evil witch tries to tempt him into eating it. I would write about how, in 'My 2 Dads' it was totally implausible that Nicole could never figure out which one of her deceased mother's ex boyfriends was really her father. I mean, they have paternity tests, hello, even in 1987. And I would write about how having 4 of the coach's hot daughters accidentally enrolled in an all boy's catholic school was probably some writer's wet dream, or how giving the coach from 'Growing Pains' his own spin off sit com was doomed from the get go.
Ah, book reports. But as the Chronicles of Narnia are set to be re-made as movies starting this December with 'The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe' (which is book #2 in the series, but probably the most famous), I'd highly recommend giving the series a read. It's like the Harry Potter of yore (Yes! I've managed to use the word 'yore' 2, whoops, now 3 times in this post! Sweet!), and by reading them in order, the magic of the worlds makes sense. Now I know how that famous wardrobe came to be.
My support goes to the teachers :)
Thursday, October 13, 2005
Blahdidtty blah
I don't really have a whole lot to report right now, but nevertheless feel compelled to post and make my blog more current. I know my own frusteration when I do my daily blog checks looking for updates, and then dissapointment when staring at the same post that has been up for weeks and weeks . . . ah, I'll get over it. I do every day.
I'm back at work, and I have to say, it's nice. People have really noticed my absence, which makes me feel important, and the old people at the pool feel like they have a new buddy, someone who they can relate to since we're all on the same meds. And it's like, ' my angioplasty was like this . . .', 'oh, well mine was like this . . .' all morning long. Seriously, we're peeps now.
And, I'd like to report that all of those years at UVic plugging away at that creative writing degree have finally come in handy. I'm spending some time helping my lovely and super stressed out friend Tat by editing her papers for her. It's really educational for me too since I'm learning all about occupational therapy as I go.
The strangest thing has been happening. I swear, I never ever thought it would happen to me. I am enjoying math. There. I said it. I know, it's strange. And anyone who talked to me in 1996 when I ceremoniously celebrated bombing the math provincial by enthusiastically dismantling my scientific calculator in the back field of the school would tell you that I am lying. But it's true. And I'd like to report that I got 90% on my first math midterm, and furthermore that I had to help the guy sitting next to me the other day, who by the way is doing a PhD (not in math, but still, hello, PhD) with a simple math problem. So I guess pigs really can fly.
I haven't seen the pink Hummer yet this week, or it's supected big blond haired driver, but I'm totally on it.
And, uh, uh, uh . . . I got nothing else.
I'm back at work, and I have to say, it's nice. People have really noticed my absence, which makes me feel important, and the old people at the pool feel like they have a new buddy, someone who they can relate to since we're all on the same meds. And it's like, ' my angioplasty was like this . . .', 'oh, well mine was like this . . .' all morning long. Seriously, we're peeps now.
And, I'd like to report that all of those years at UVic plugging away at that creative writing degree have finally come in handy. I'm spending some time helping my lovely and super stressed out friend Tat by editing her papers for her. It's really educational for me too since I'm learning all about occupational therapy as I go.
The strangest thing has been happening. I swear, I never ever thought it would happen to me. I am enjoying math. There. I said it. I know, it's strange. And anyone who talked to me in 1996 when I ceremoniously celebrated bombing the math provincial by enthusiastically dismantling my scientific calculator in the back field of the school would tell you that I am lying. But it's true. And I'd like to report that I got 90% on my first math midterm, and furthermore that I had to help the guy sitting next to me the other day, who by the way is doing a PhD (not in math, but still, hello, PhD) with a simple math problem. So I guess pigs really can fly.
I haven't seen the pink Hummer yet this week, or it's supected big blond haired driver, but I'm totally on it.
And, uh, uh, uh . . . I got nothing else.
Thursday, October 06, 2005
Proof
Ah, my regret at not stopping and photographing the hideous beast was abated today as once again the pink Hummer has graced the Langara College parking lot. This has also confirmed the fact that I did indeed see a pink Hummer, and no, the blood thinners don't seem to be making me hallucinate after all. Thank god for camera phones, eh? I got a nice shot of it's rear, but have decided not to post it, as it would reveal the licence plate to the world of blog, and well, that's just not nice. I would, however, looooove to get a look at the driver of this thing. I have theories. . .
Tuesday, October 04, 2005
Urban Monstrosities
I'll be blunt - I think that Hummer's are stupid. I mean, what practical use could the Hummer possibly serve, other than the giant flashing dollar signs revolving over the hood, in urban culture today? Sure, they are a useful military ATV, and sure, they can take a real beating if you live way out in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere and routinely need to drive around in muddy, uneven, ditch-filled terrain. But a Hummer in the city? Friggen useless. Ever had to parallel park behind one? No thanks. It's just that they're so good on gas, right? And at a buck twenty a litre, I suppose that the only people who can afford to fill and drive the Hummer, are the same people who can afford to buy the Hummer. But really, I could put up with all that, just scowl under my breath when I saw one cruising down Robson street, really I could. Until yesterday. Yesterday, in the parking lot of my school, yes, I'll repeat that, of my school, there was parked a shiny, scratchless, mudless, ditchless, friggen Hummer. And why are my knickers in a knot over this sighting? BECAUSE IT WAS FUCKING PINK!!!! Fucking pearly shimmery opalescent baby girl pink. Good God! What the fuck? Meh! I have nothing further to say on that.
I'm too outraged to even give an update on the clot situation.
(It's much better, thankyou. My meds aren't quite stable yet, can't seem to find the right balance of blood thinners - it's a little too thin at the moment, which should explain the constant light headedness, as well as the strange nosebleed I woke up with this morning. Though that could still be a side effect of the hummer sighting. The arm is a bit achey still, but on the mend. I've returned to classes, and hope to be back at work after the Thanksgiving weekend.)
I'm too outraged to even give an update on the clot situation.
(It's much better, thankyou. My meds aren't quite stable yet, can't seem to find the right balance of blood thinners - it's a little too thin at the moment, which should explain the constant light headedness, as well as the strange nosebleed I woke up with this morning. Though that could still be a side effect of the hummer sighting. The arm is a bit achey still, but on the mend. I've returned to classes, and hope to be back at work after the Thanksgiving weekend.)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
