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Thursday, March 28, 2013

Just an update about tomorrow

Tomorrow is the Lima Bean's big debut. She'll be here in the early hours of Good Friday -- also my Grammy's birthday.

Pre-op at 5 AM on the dot. C-Section festivities to begin at 8 AM. Look for pictures on Facebook (or until I learn how to upload them onto this here newfangled laptop).

Wish us luck, health and love!

Namaste!

On God, Same Sex Marriage and the First Amendment

In case you're living under a rock and haven't noticed, there's been a ton of HRC activity on Facebook lately. I didn't change my profile picture or anything, mostly because those that know me know that I ardently and avidly support equal rights (and I don't need to change my profile picture to prove it). For a while there, I was also a card carrying member of the ACLU.

Once-upon-a-time, I had a supervisor at my old job who, in retrospect, was actually a really good supervisor, though at the time I thought she was a bitch. It turns out, she just knew how to keep business and personal separate. We're Facebook friends now and I'm glad for it. She's a pretty cool person. Anyway, she posted an eloquently stated status opposing the use of biblical symbology in support of anti-gay marriage stances. Fuh real, it was REALLY good.

I don't presume to have her eloquence or her diplomacy (she was REALLY diplomatic on the topic. A lesson our congress could take a page from), but she inspired me to pipe up and chime in. Here's what I had to say.

First: I absolutely support the marriage rights of ANY two consenting adults, be they straight, gay, trans/pan/bi-sexual, etc. Frankly, the best models of "healthy marriages" that I've had in my own life were those of same sex couples.

Second: Nobody chooses to be gay. Nobody chooses to be straight. Kinda like nobody chooses to have blue eyes versus brown eyes.

Third: In my humble opinion, God made all the wonderful diversity in this world. And He/She/It made diversity on purpose: not for us to hate each other, but for us to love each other.

Fourth: Is it REALLY so offensive to have more love in the world? In a world that's being torn apart by violence and hatred, I would think that we would want to embrace love and support it, not demand that it stay silent and in a locked closet somewhere because it offends your sense of aesthetics.

Fifth: (This might piss some people off), the Bible is fallible. It is the inspired word of God, but written by man. And man is nothing if not fallible. Heck, according to many biblical historians, the bible isn't even complete -- there are "hundreds" of gospels that weren't included for one reason or another. So bear that in mind when saying, "The Bible says..." because the bible you're reading today isn't really giving you a complete picture.

Sixth: If you're opposed to same-sex marriage, fine. That's your opinion and you're entitled to it. I even support your right to express yourself. But please, oh please, leave God out of your argument. Everyone's relationship with God is a personal one. What God says to you on the topic of same-sex marriage is certainly not what He/She/It says to ME on the topic. Let's just be honest with ourselves and admit that you find same-sex marriage offensive, not because God tells you it's wrong, but because you simply find it offensive (for whatever reason).
 
 
In closing, I'd like to say MAZOL TOV to my Uncle Brion and his partner, Bob, who recently tied the knot. Uncle Brion -- if you're reading this: I couldn't be happier for you two. I just wish I knew where y'all registered so I could send you a wedding present. :) Thank you for being one of my models of a healthy relationship. 

Tuesday, March 26, 2013

Thoughts on shifting

About this time last year, I was so action-packed full of Two Year Plans and Other Grand Adventures that I thought absolutely nothing could stand in my way of fulfilling all of my grand ambitions. Little did I know, that my life would be taking a wildly different course than I had planned.

That's the thing about plans: you need backup plans for them.

I spend very little time in my studio these days, and I'm OK with that.

I pay for search ads on Etsy for a shop that I've neglected woefully (and will probably shut down, temporarily, while I'm wrapping my head around my new adventure).

While I wrote and published one book, and illustrated another, I've backburnered the topic for the time being, because I really only wrote the first book for my gram as a Christmas gift.

I don't remember the last time I was on Pinterest or Craft Gawker -- which is unusual for me, since those were multiple-times-a-day visits once-upon-a-time.

I've realized that plans shift. They're malleable and rather sandy. Topics that were important yesterday seem rather pointless in the current moment. And I guess that's why it's so important to live in the present, focusing on what's in front of you right now.

This isn't to say that I won't resume my regularly scheduled programming, so to speak, but that I'm honoring the shift that's happened in my head and in my life.  I've retreated from the constant focus on THE PLANS into a kind of quiet wait-and-see holding pattern while I, well, wait and see what's in store. Because my carefully laid plans got waylaid by a different kind of planning; a good kind of planning for the life that will be here before I know it.

Sometimes the road is supposed to shift. Sometimes you're supposed to take a different path for a while. And sometimes all that planning you did for something else was just to lead you to where you are right now.

Sunday, March 24, 2013

I don't have the slightest urge to nest.

I started my maternity leave a week early, because I knew I'd be a complete waste a work (a) and (b) I wanted time to clean and get ready for the Lima Bean's impending arrival. But if I'm honest with myself, I think I just wanted time to sit around and put my feet up because, for real y'all, I have absolutely no urge to nest. I'm looking around at the piles of stuff that need to be done *cough*laundry*cough* and merely think "I still have yoga pants I can fit in. The laundry can wait."

I should be stocking my freezer with meals The Fiance™ can heat up for the trolls, but he already bought out the frozen pizza aisle, so I'm using that as justification for not doing any cooking if I can avoid it. Which is weird, because I usually love cooking. And the trolls are with The Ex this week, so you'd think I'd want to take advantage of the unencumbered time to get shit done. But no. We have pizza in the freezer, so we're good.

I have, like, the opposite of nesting right now. Maybe it's because I know, in the back of my mind, that the next five years are going to consist of anything but rest. It'll be a non-stop whirlwind of sleepless nights, chasing a toddler, making trolls pick up after themselves and chasing a five-year-old around before I can finally just take a nap. Seriously, I won't be able to nap for years. That's some ole bullshit, if you ask me.

Besides, moving around too much makes me feel like I'm going into labor. And when I feel like I'm going into labor, I get all freaked-the-hell-out. And when I get all freaked-the-hell-out, I make The Fiance™ time my phantom contractions while I whine and cry like a baby. Then he falls asleep and, magically, my contractions become more manageable. And when my contractions become more manageable, I want to take a nap. And when I want to take a nap, I don't want to clean. So, really, it's best if I just skip all the whining and crying and go take a nap.

It's called logic, y'all.

Friday, March 22, 2013

Wherein I think I'm in labor, but it might actually just be gas. It's hard to tell this late in the game.

Yes. I am at that lovely stage of my pregnancy where every other minute I'm having some sort of twinge that immediately sets me into "AM I IN LABOR?!" mode. The Boyfriend™ has learned to sleep through it at this point, God bless him. See, the thing is I don't know what actual prolonged labor is like. Well... that's not entirely true. I was in full blown labor with The Monkey, but that had a fairly obvious start (my water broke). With The Nugget, I was in labor for about 12 hours and then it stopped. "They" say that's called false labor. But again, it's hard to tell when you're two weeks overdue.

Right now, I'm right on time with the Lima Bean and I'm pretty sure she's ready to come out (if the constant head-butting of my cervix is any indication). My cervix just isn't cooperative at all. Possibly because my children have ginormous heads and it would be really fucking painful to birth them the right way, and my body is more than willing to take advantage of medical science to help itself along.

And I'm pretty ready for the Lima Bean's debut. Enough with the touchy-feely, love your children, Waldorf School bullpucky. I. Want. My. Body. Back! Granted, I'm going to be nursing, so I won't really have it back, but I'm hoping the swollen ankles and feet will disappear and take their bastard friend Restless Legs along with them. And I'd really like to enjoy a glass of wine without feeling sixteen kinds of guilty about it (that is to say, the guilt I feel merely thinking about enjoying a glass of wine while the alien is in residence prevents me from actually consuming it. I must've been severely Catholic in a previous life).

Not for nothing, but finding out you're pregnant five weeks into it makes for a very long pregnancy indeed. I miss the days when I didn't religiously keep track of my menstrual cycle and I found out I was pregnant close to the end of my first trimester.

In other news, The Boyfriend™'s name is now officially The Fiance™ as of last night. Yes, Dear Readers, the man proposed! It was sweet and slightly awkward and he's taken to claiming he owns various parts of me -- like my belly button -- now that he's slapped a ring on my finger. I gotta tell you, aside from the vaguely misogynistic overtones, I couldn't be happier. I'm pretty sure he's happy about it, too.

Now I just need to get divorced. There's something fairly sister-husbands about still technically being married whilst engaged to another man.