What the Hell?

I don't really watch television.  And I don't say that with the pretentiousness of someone who is better than you (television watcher.)  I just don't really have the time.  And I'm not afraid to admit to you and God and everyone that I am honestly, humbly, addicted to The Bachelorette.  If that show was on seven days a week, I would record it and find the time, at 2am if I had to, to watch it.  (I was pissed it was a repeat on the 4th of July! What the F#*@!?) 

But also, I don't watch television because it helps me avoid the "news."

I'm pretty sure "news" is a subjective term anyway, but here in LA, it gets a little crazy.  I mean, what news is to the people in Minnesota can be totally different than the people in California (Southern Cal, specifically, it seems.)  On any given night, there could be coverage of a forest fire, a flood, a murder, or the new tattoo Jennifer Aniston got on her foot.  And this isn't E Entertainment news....this is ABC/NBC/CBS.  Awesome.  I find it depressing (both the murder coverage and Brittany's new hairstyle.)  I wish they covered the people going to Skid Row to feed people, or that lady who adopted 25 mentally handicapped children.  I wish they covered the guy who paid your toll ahead of you and the lady who made up "free donut Tuesday" at Dunkin Donuts.  I mean, I care more about those people than I do about Jennifer Aniston.  Just sayin'.

I have successfully avoided all coverage of the Casey Anthony trial, but it has saturated the media, and the minds of my friends, co-workers and people in line at Starbucks.  So now I know about it.  I'm not sure I want to know about it.

I believe in mass consciousness and energy effecting how things work...I believe that when people get together and focus on something, it creates more of that something.  What we need right now are more good parents.  We don't need another inhuman human.  We, as a people, could use less people who kill people.  And yeah, for the record, while you're talking about it, I think she killed her.  (I don't have chloroform in MY trunk...do YOU?  If you do, you probably killed someone, too.  See? I know details of this case and I never even watched an ounce of it on TV.   The power of the media is vast and reaches into the minds of those who go out of their way to avoid it.  Maybe what we resist, persists.  But I digress...)

I didn't have an original point, really, so I'm ok with this being all over the place.  I'm drinking a Diet Dr. Pepper and life is moving slowly this morning.  There's a baby asleep and no dogs barking, so life is looking pretty good.

In closing,  1) I wish there was less media and more social gatherings around campfires.  I had friends make me s'mores on Saturday at a fire and that, THAT, my dears, improved the quality of my life.  2) We need to focus on the good people and the good things they're doing if we want more good things done.  Maybe if the media got all frenzied over people taking care of other people, more people would be inspired to do it; even if just for the shot at being on TV.  And 3)  I'm giving diet soda a chance, but honest to God, I still really hate diet soda.

Good day.

So I had this baby....

I had that baby I was pregnant with. Almost 4 months ago now.  I still feel a bit like I'm living in a bubble and things have taken on a surreal, dreamy quality I can't describe properly.  I'm breastfeeding this baby because I want her to have whatever immunity I've got to give her against the world's bad stuff...and it's cheaper than formula.  And I touch her a lot because studies have shown that babies who are touched more often than not have a greater chance of NOT being a serial killer.


I just want to raise a person who has a conscience and contributes to the world somehow; in big or small ways.  If she does no harm, I'll be happy.

I've gone back to work, but this time, it's a new work.  I'm a teacher at National Holistic Institute and I teach people how to be massage therapists.  This job, ironically enough, is really pointing out to me how much I don't know.  I guess teaching is like that.  It's nice to have a regular paycheck and hours and such and I get to bum around the house in the morning in my pajamas with this baby becuase I teach at night.  Of course, I rarely see my husband, and that's a pitfall...like my neighbor Alan so bluntly stated, "I hope you guys don't get divorced or anything!"  Me too, Alan....me, too...

I don't imagine us ever getting divorced. We respect each other a whole bunch and do what we have to do for our little family.  And I think that's what makes something work.  But what the hell do I know?  Someone in our life who has been married for 25 years just announced to us that they're separating.  These people seemed so in  love.  Crap, they TOLD us they were so in love...just a few short years ago at our wedding, they "hoped we would still be THIS in love 22 years later!"  And in less than 3 years, what...fallen out of love?  I find it confusing.  And scary.  I feel like....if it can happen to them, it can probably happen to anybody.  But I choose to live in the moment and not cave under the fear.

Speaking of fear...

So having a baby creates a whole new world of fear, doesn't it, kids?  Those of you with them, know, I'm sure.  I'm already scared about her going off to school and having people pick on her...I see cars running stop lights and get scared one is going to run one into ME while that baby is in the car...is she too hot? Too cold? Hungry?  I'm pretty laid back, but still.  College scares the shit out of me.  There will most likely be boys there.

I've had the urge to make lists and I think it's because my brain doesn't work right anymore.  If you've had a baby, ever, then you know of what I speak.

Here's a list of things I want to buy because we need some of them.  And some of them, I just want:

Sofa.    Smartphone to replace my semi-stupid phone.  Computer.  Mattress.  Area rug for both bedrooms.   Clothes that fit and make me feel like I might be cute still.  Haircut.  Shoes that don't hurt my feet.  Plane tickets to tropical location.

The list was longer once.  About an hour ago when I could remember the other stuff I wanted.  But everything costs money and at the moment we need to do things like save for said child's education, etc. 

One of these days I'll write about the birth.  Or tell an interesting story from this other life I used to have.  But for now, I just wanted to say hi and see how everyone is doing.  So, how are you doing?

Let's bring back the commune, shall we?

I was parked in the 7-11 parking lot the other day, waiting for my husband to get his zero-calorie vitamin water and a scratch ticket, when I noticed a man saddling up to the RedBox right in front of the store.  And it struck me---people don't want to interact with people anymore.  I mean, I think I knew this, given the amount of numbers I have to press when calling my insurance company; if they can get away with giving me an automated answer, they certainly will.  But, we were in Fresh & Easy the other day (recommended by my friend Jessica who said it was just like Trader Joe's but with Coke!) and we didn't interact with anyone but the woman giving out samples of crackers.  ALL of the registers are do-it-yourself....and then this RedBox thing! Don't walk into a store and interact with (gasp!) PEOPLE!!!!  Just swipe your card, get your movie and run home like it never happened!  Maybe it's a product of the over-population factor...there are just TOO MANY people to interact with people anymore.  But then, there all of these people unemployed...so it leads me to believe it's just us.  Just us closing ourselves off to other humans.

Have you noticed all of the illness/ pollution/ struggling out there lately? Because I have.  I've noticed the people who come get a massage and tell me it's the only time in their life they're touched.  It's tragic, really, and I can't imagine.   I think we weren't meant to live this solitary lifestyle we've all so proudly set up.  I think, like dogs, we're really pack animals.  There are studies that show people who have more than 3 different groups of friends get sick less.  That babies who are held more frequently and have skin to skin contact are less likely to become serial killers.  There are reasons for this and it comes down to human-to-human contact.  We were meant to live with one another; helping each other pay the mortgage, raise the kids, make the food.  We were meant to socialize and sing together.  A one man band, while slightly entertaining, is no match for a 6 person band (Alright Alright!!!)  because it takes a village to create something cool.  Sure, there are artists who create amazing things all the time solo, but a lot of them go nutso.  Just sayin'.  So many folks I know are losing their homes, struggling to work and raise the kids, are depressed because they live alone...and I think a good old fashioned fucking commune is in order.  Or, at least, an intentional community.  Let's all pitch in and buy 10 acres of land and build some little houses on it...have a community farm...a social space for art and music.  We'll grow our own food, live off the grid and cook some amazing meals together.  We'll only have one veggie-fueled car and when we want to rent a friggin movie, we'll make it a Blockbuster night so that person can keep his job.  We'll have our own little space, but have spaces we share so that we're not doing it all alone.  We'll live long happy lives and our children will always have this great extended family to learn from.  It'll be swell....what do you say?  I'm eyeballing Topanga and I'm talking to YOU.

I know I sound like a dirty hippie.  I'm just tired of the traffic, the illness, the hopelessness I see around me.  People were all pumped up in electing Obama with their "Yes we can"  and I'm wondering if everyone still feels like they're able.  I'd like to harness that energy and throw it into an intentional community, a commune, a cooperation-station.  We need someone who can teach me how to sew...do you know anyone like that?

Pregnant and bloated is the new black.

13 weeks.  That's how pregnant I am.  And yet...it feels like I've been growing this person for years.  I can't believe there's six more months yet.  And it was intentional and I'm grateful, but I feel as though I fall into the grass is always greener category of women.  I would see pregnant women smiling through the grocery store and hate them because I wasn't them.  And now, I see that bachelorette, Ali, in her skimpy bikinis galavanting in Tahiti as I suck on my frozen Mango pop, my breasts taking over my body, and the bloat stopping me from enjoying most things I eat...and I hate her for being so skinny and free.

Ah, how we are never quite satisfied.

Before I was married, I envisioned myself as that barefoot and pregnant woman who adored growing people.  I assumed one day I would even do it for other people.  "What? Having trouble getting knocked up?  Borrow MY uterus for awhile! Sure! Why not??"  And now that the little guy is actually in there, I feel like I'd be ok if someone just handed him to me and I could eat Shahi Paneer again without gagging.  Maybe it will improve in the next few months.  I'm looking forward to the little person getting bigger so I can at least feel the kicking and discomfort on a different level.  And crap, if I'm going to be complaining about how uncomfortable I am, I should at least have something to show for it.

Along with my distaste for all things edible these days comes an unprejudiced hatred for my wardrobe.  It's not even that things don't fit me yet; they mostly do.  I just can't stand anything I own anymore.  But buying new clothes seems silly, given that I'm just going to out-grow them in a few months' time.  It's too soon to get maternity clothes and I don't feel good about spending the food budget on cotton anyway.   So it's gray sweats and t-shirts these days because those items don't accentuate the baby-induced muffin-top I've been rocking.

Nothing in this life has made me feel my age as much as getting pregnant.  And I knew it would.  At 34 I looked at my husband and gave him the "it's now or never" speech about getting preggo.  And now, as it turns out, I'll be 36 when I deliver our child.  I'm not a fan of my Ob/Gyn who, on our very first visit, told us we "need" to do genetic testing because I'm 35.   Ah, 35...the number at which people carrying babies are deemed old.   (By the way, I'm not doing genetic testing.  It's not for me.  This kid is ours no matter what kind of weirdo things s/he winds up with. We already know she'll have a proclivity towards the super-natural and most likely be born holding a light-saber and by golly, I'm going to love her anyway.)

With learning I'm having a baby has come the mourning for things I never was. (Hence, this blog. Lucky you!)  The actor, the teacher, the circus performer...the professional traveler, the game show host...sigh.  So many things to be in so little time.  And yet, when I find myself overwhelmed by things I could or should be doing in my time off, I grab a sack of potato chips and do nothing.  Nothing conquers indecision like procrastination.  And besides, "if you can't achieve it in 20 minutes, it's probably not worth doing."--Al Fontaine, circa 1999.  But I digress...What I SHOULD be focusing on are things I am now and am becoming. Like a Mom.  I've cared for other people's kids for so long it seems I've become numb to the fact that I'm going to have my own.  None of them have ever called me "Mom," nor have I been the one they cried for.  So really, here I am gearing up for that.  I get to do all the work I ever did in raising a kid, only now I don't get paid. BUT--I DO get to be the one the kid freaks out for when I walk out the door..and I'm looking forward to the shoe being on that foot.