I have bruises

and blisters, and cuts and scrapes and sore muscles and a tender bum and...

I'm loving it.

for the first time in a long time...I have NON-pregnancy related complaints! (I still have those, but now I have better ones to dwell on)

all of my brand new (and oh-so-familiar) maladies are a consequence of one glorious thing...

activity.

yay! I missed you, activity. I *heart* you activity. I want to love you and squeeze you and kiss you and feed you and hug you and pet you...

blisters from hiking. bruises from falling off boulders. dirty toenails from critter hunting in a stream. sore butt from riding my bicycle (what's a bicycle???). chafing and stiffness from my god-awful harness.


le sigh.

hurts sooooo good.

the last few days have definitely been a turning point for me. I've spent ALMOST enough time in the woods, the dogs are once again seeing daylight...and I don't feel like a whale...perhaps a porpoise...

but not a whale.

the nausea is GONE.
the headaches are GONE.
the weakness...

ok, well...that's still here as I'm dreadfully out of shape.

but it feels GOOD. like hiking up a mountain with 40 lbs on your back kinda good.

it hurts...but you know you love it.

I can honestly say that the last week has been the first time that I didn't absolutely DESPISE being pregnant. I don't feel as poisoned or beat up...

and I have this cool new lump in my belly that occassionally squirms around and plays alien for me.

my pants don't fit at all...

but who gives a rip? 4 more days of school (I got in trouble for wearing jeans yesterday...ha! like I give a shiz-nizzle)...then its all stretchy pants and sweat shorts from here on out.

I don't need linen capris to go play in a stream...

now do I?

careful...I is stealing ur belly pikshers.

15 week belly pics (mostly stolen). one of them is teh suki...

^ NO! that is NOT me with the prison tat and the acrylic nails.

realizations...minor and otherwise

uncomfortable underwear make you stupid.
uncomfortable shoes make you mean.

all of my cohorts have real jobs.
I don't.
(nor do I want one)

warm baths make things better.
hot ones make them worse.

falling asleep in the bath is bad.
regardless of temperature.

no matter how hard I try, I can't train my dogs to answer my phone and take a message...or cook a meal...or clean up the poo.
I can't train the kid or the man to do those things, either.

I am inherently distrustful of strangers...and/or I hate them.

I hate teenagers.
I hate 20-somethings, 30-somethings, 40-somethings and 50-somethings.

60, 70 and 80-somethings are fine
...as long as they aren't driving in front of me.

I know absolutely jack shit about bird song...
except that it happens early in the morning.

I don't like early mornings.

I like a bit o' hair on a man's legs...
but not on my own.

I don't shave often enough.

does this knife make me look fat?

the votes are in.

we're giant dorks.

man, that hurt.

ten hours of sleep in four days. that hurt.

8 hours of driving in a monsoon (with an eensy weensy pregnant bladder). yeah, that hurt, too.

slamming my shoulder in the car door. that hurt a bit.

hiking at the back of the bunch instead of blazing the trail. definitely hurt (the ego).

subsisting on camp food all weekend with a hungry lil' parasite in me. that kinda hurt.

being mistaken for another climber's mother. that fucking KILLED!

but what hurt the most was realizing my limitations...and just how much has changed about me.

seeing my relationships with climbing friends, people I've been WAY tight with, morph right before my eyes...painful in an indescribable way.

I've become accustomed (along with the people who know me) to being a certain kinda person. bouncy. bubbly. brazen. bad-ass bitch. this trip found me more of the exhausted, hungry, moody, whiny, incapable ilk.

at this festival last year, I remember getting lost for hours on end...just chatting people up, hanging out, being social. this year involved alot of sitting, peeing, nodding off and aching.

some of my friends didn't seem to understand. in a private conversation oqui felt the need to explain it to them. he told them that I don't WANT to be exhausted. I don't want to have to watch my every move. I don't want to have to rest, pee and eat every 15 minutes....and I certainly don't like having someone else carry my pack on the hikes.

but I have no choice. he told them that he can actually see my energy drain and a crash fast approaching. I hit the wall...and I do it hard and often. one of the kids said, "man. that sucks" in such a way that oqui just KNEW that he meant it would suck to have to deal with that from his end...

oqui told him, "yeah. it does suck. for HER."

I'm incredibly lucky to have a man who gets it. someone who, in such a short time, knows me well enough to have faith in me. a man who's got my back...and carries the heavy stuff.

it hurts (alot) to know that my relationships with my climbing friends may be changed for good. its not like I can be the person I was two years ago with an infant or a toddler. I just can't take those kinds of risks...or that kinda time to myself, anymore. I mourn those habits and I mourn those relationships...but I'm getting pretty good at convincing myself it'll all work out.

so group trips may be a thing of the past...but I've still got oqui, the monkey and the mutts...and soon we'll all be camping and climbing and taking turns watching the sprout while mommy leads 5.11's (ha!)

on the bright side of the trip...it managed to NOT rain for one day and we got in a good solid day of climbing. I got on some 10's in my brand spanking new torture device...I meant body harness. I felt technically sound and kinda strong...

but exhaustion and fatigue had their way with me halfway up each climb.

either way...I'm still 4 months pregnant with half of a 10a, 10b and two bolts of an over-hung 10a under my belt.

and those were some pretty bad-ass halves...


if I do say so myself.

where my breakfast is at?

sitting in the cafe (raining like a mofo. 40% chance my toosh)...

waiting for my whole wheat pancakes.


and all a suki wanna know is...


where my breakfast is at?

on second thought...

we're going on the trip...

(and spent all last night watching porn.)

what is it with me and the porn lately?

I'm typically very anti-porn...as I'm not a huge fan of three black chicks jizzing on a blonde girl's face...

but lately...oh, boy. lately...

I'm just gonna stop there.


so, yeah...the trip. we're heading to West Virginia, land of dead dogs and banjers for the climbing rendezvous. it was our first trip together last year as friends (and I'm almost 4 months pregnant, now. AHAHAHAHAHAH you do the math)...so it's kind of an anniversary.

we're packing 5 people + gear into the grocery getter, and the drive will most likely infuriate me and make me wanna stab, again...

but three days of hippy fest and a nice long walk (or ten) in the west virginny woods oughta clear up the rage, once more. not sure how much climbing I'll actually do...but I'm sure to lose several pounds from camp food and sleep dep...

then go back to work next Monday.

yup. I 'quit' for all of a week, but decided to try my hand at it, again. if I work the last 12 days of this school year...it'll be all the money (and more) that I would've needed to make working part-time...

while in school.
supervising the monkey.
and getting huger every day...

over the summer.

so I'm going to try (TRY) to suck it up.

keep my head low and my rifle dry...

and not let the bastards (these are high school 'kids' they're definitely bastards) get to me.


have a great weekend!

looks like we're gonna get rained out

for our climbing trip.


chances are good that we sit around all weekend watching porn, instead.

summer camp!

this is the year.

it's gonna happen.

the kid is going to summer camp.


this decreases the possibility that she'll be hanging out all day with hoodlums and start smoking the whacky weed.

I've got three weeks in mind.

two weeks in July for a late-night and adventure camp...and one week in June for Iron Chef.


I'm a little scared about the prospect of her coming home and cooking earthworms...

but, shit.

we gotta eat, right?


I'm telling ya. I'm not gonna wimp out this time.

I mean it.


she's going.


for real.

the meaning of life...and other important things

(like hair straightening, nail polishing and hip-hop music)

my 12 year old threw me for a loop yesterday. as we're straightening her hair (a 2 hour procedure, mind you)...she's lying there philosophizing.

her: "I just...I just think so much."
me: "oh, like what?"
her: "nothing. you'll just think I'm being dumb."
me: "yeah, probably. but I'm curious what you're thinking, anyway."
her: "why?"
me: "cause I wanna know if I'm doing a good job raising you...as evidenced by your innermost thoughts. tell me and we'll see if we gave you the right name" (we're obsessed with names currently and she's a little upset with the "cheerleader" name I gave her)
her: "godddd, mom! it's not even like that!!! see? you don't understand me already!!!"
me: *laughing and pointing at her*
her: "ok. so that was lame. I sound like an afterschool special"

...so we proceded to have our talk.

turns out the child is questioning the existence of god, the nature of religion...and the human condition, for that matter; trying to decide what her goals in life should be (two of her possible options include "adventuring" and "doing good"), and wondering why we react differently to different people who do the same things.

ie. one friend can touch her hand and say something and she'll laugh...and another one will do the same and she'll want to stab her (or, at least I would).

she wonders why people's inherent personalities either fit or don't fit with others.

we got into discussions about basic human needs and nature, and talked at length about mormons (I told her they're bat-shit crazy).

before it was all said and done she suggested we meditate together. amen. hallelujah. I'm sooo tired of her constant attempts to drown out her inner noise with extraneous hip-hop...

SCORE ONE FOR SOME QUIET TIME IN SUKI-LAND

and I told her that these were all good questions that mean she's thinking the right way.

she told me AGAIN that I don't understand (ha! the forces of teenager-dom at work against her own will)...but this time took responsibility for it, herself. she thinks that what we actually talked about was very immature vs. what she's actually thinking, and that she managed to make it all come out sounding very kid-like.

I told her its probably because her thoughts are more complex than her vocabularly (and pointed out that that is probably why ALL 12 year olds sound the way they do)...and told her to read.

SCORE TWO FOR MORE QUIET TIME IN SUKI-LAND

so...when she gets home today and starts blasting music, I'm going to hand her a book and schedule a yoga class.


...and I'm confiscating her stinky nail polishes and body sprays. how can one think with all that smell going on???

kooza!

we're off to see cirque du soleil in a bit.

the reviews...as typical of all cirque shows...are stellar.

it is said that, "Within three hours, it can turn men into boys, children into instant smiles and twinkling eyes."

hoo ha!

I'm down for a little twinkling.


(^that said tWinkling...although tinkling is very probable, as well)

its muh birfday...it..its muh birfday!

no. it's not.

but it certainly FEELS like it.

no. it feels better than muh birfday. it feels like christmas, new years, muh birfday, all saints day and groundhog's day all rolled up into, cause...

yesterday was my very last day of subbing EVAH.

evah, evah, evah. EVAH!

never going back. even if I was allowed (which I'm probably not)...you couldn't pay me (ha! like it paid, anyway) to get back into a classroom with thug nuggets and a-holes.

nEVAH.

yesterday I had the worst kids in the school. 8th graders segregated from the rest of their peers because they are too agressive, assinine and attitude-y to do any work.

and I had them.
in a basement room.
with no windows.
or AC.
for more than an hour.

soooooooooo...long story short: they're fucking lunatics. I'm a fucking lunatic. they lost their shit. I lost mine back. words were exchanged. I scared the shit out of the so-called bad asses (they didn't think a pregnant little white girl had it in her. I showed them)...

and then quit promptly at 3:05.


fuhq. that. shit.

it is NOT worth my blood pressure going out of control.
it is NOT worth losing three hours a sleep every night from stress.
it is NOT worth giving birth to a poor lil innocent babe wrought with stress and anxiety from birth.
it is just not worth it.

when I went to sign out of the building (forever)...the lord(s) was(were) shining upon a suki...

cause I got the opportunity to do the closest thing to quitting a sub could ever do.

pity that the woman who happened to be present for the brunt of my tirade in no way deserved it...but it felt good nonetheless.

I took her a list of names of children I wanted executed...she closed the door and asked me to sit down.

ruh roh.

she STARTED to say that the kids told her I cursed at them...but before she could finish her warning to me I blew my top.

things I remember saying...in no particular order.

YES, I cursed at those bastards!!! they're lucky I didn't throw a chair or chinese star.

I am SO fucking done with this (slammed my badge on the desk)! I tried. I really did. I tried to help. I've been doing this shit job, for shit pay, for over a year now...holding on dearly to the infrequent moments when I actually felt like I was doing something GOOD. like I was getting through to someone.

no more! I'm done.

for the last thirty minutes I looked out at that classroom of babboons and saw nothing but a sea of blood and decapitated bodies. I'm done. I'm leaving before I get arrested.

oh please. LET a parent say something to me. I would LOVE the opportunity to beat one of them unconscious. its their fucking fault. I'm done.

the worst part isn't the disrespect or the assinine attitude. NO. its looking at them and seeing their future. and you know what that is? nothing. absolutely nothing. humans who behave that way have NO future. I'm done.

-------------------------


sooo...I'm done. between an administration that doesn't give a fuck. parents who are either on crack or selling it. students who either can't sit still or have no goal other than to perturb me...

I'm done.

I'm ALMOST tempted, though, to take one final assignment. to go back to the school where the principal flipped on me BECAUSE HIS FUCKING PARKING LOT IS TOO SMALL (and he's a fucking spazz)...

and throw a left hook to his chin.

I've already told him off good and hard...

but slapping him like a bitch would put the cherry, on the sprinkles, on the icing...

on the quitting cake.


I'm done!

thank goodness for the little things.

there are few things in life more excruciatingly boring and torturous than a middle school spring concert (one of the few being an elementary school spring concert. 3rd graders shouldn't be allowed ANYWHERE NEAR a snare drum, violin or piano)...many of which I've had to endure.

this year's concert was made even more dull, bloody tear inducing and uncomfortable than usual by the fact that I'm pregnant...and, owing to such...

angry, miserable and mean.

also nauseous. did I mention nauseous? with hands smelling of freshly chopped onions...

this particular concert almost had an encore performance of suki solo-vomitting.

out of the 300-something kids performing that night...I'm gonna go with 4...MAYBE 5...of them actually having any talent. one girl...voice of an angel. I swear when she opened her mouth to sing it was like listening to disembodied spirits.

happy ones.

her solo lasted all of 18.3 seconds...then it was back to torture.

then there was the orchestra. I...I...I...can't even begin to describe how tremendously awful this group was. out of tune, off tempo, squeaky, horrendous, shrilling noises...that went on forever.

and ever.

and (motherfucking) ever.

the only saving grace of the orchestra's waaaaaaaay too extended time on stage was the conductor's pantylines. I found myself obsessed with this woman's underwear. probably because I could see, through the glory of stage lighting, the outline of her entire set o' drawers. it was almost worth the cost of admission (free) to find 14 minutes of sheer, unadulterated idiocy as I stared at, and subsequently lost my mind in this woman's ass.

when it was the band's turn to torture us...once again, oqui saved my life...or at least kept me out of jail and the headlines...with one simple observation.

every time the girl on percussion dutifully banged her cymbals...her hair flew up in a giant puff.

I've never found myself more enthralled with a musical performance. I broke out in a cold sweat in anticipation of the next crescendo...

all in hopes her hair would go berzerker, again.


ooooh, and it did.

over and over and over and....


I peed myself a little in my fit of uncontrollable laughter. I honestly...

COULD NOT STOP LAUGHING.

a few parents (maybe those of the talented children???) were getting annoyed with my seemingly inappropriate enjoyment of the performance...

but most just giggled, turned away and resigned themselves to 40 more minutes of torture without knowing what was so damn funny.

I cheered like a retard when the final cymbal bash came...

and her hair...was stuck to her forehead.


that may be the closest in history a shitty middle school band has EVER come to a standing ovation.

I am TOTALLY making my kid play percussion, now.

sex makes you fat.

^ proof.

everest...and other mountains

I feel like I've recently climbed them all.

from the numbness in my piggers and fingers, to my inability to breathe (much like I'm at high altitude), to the extent of this exhaustion...

I'm finding it hard to believe I didn't just haul my ass off of a mountain.


if I don't get 12 straight hours in bed (two of which I spend WIIIIIIIDE awake smack dab in the middle of the night)...I'm beat the next day.

my hair has also started falling out in clumps. my nose gets bigger every morning. I can't remember or process ANYTHING (it's kinda fun to watch, I hear. I'm a bit of a moron)...and I'm starting to puff up.

does anyone else remember feeling like this while pregnant? it very well could've happened the first time...and I've blocked it (as a protective mechanism) from my memory.


...but I don't think so.

my aunt texted me a picture taken of me yesterday.


THE HORROR!!!

I look so old. old, old, old. I feel old, too.

did I mention I'm mean?

a male climbing friend told me on Saturday that he's concerned for me. that I'm too full of anger...that I'm carrying a baby and need to relax, to wit I replied...

have you ever been pregnant, you codgey old bastard??? no! huh? you haven't? then what the hell do you know? how 'bout you shut yourself right up.


hahahahah
...thereby proving him right.

so I'm trying to get more rest, starting pre-natal yoga, adding some more protein to my diet and hoping to High Heaven I recover when my estrogen levels drop to something tolerable.

cause...I mean...what would be the point of having this baby if I'm just gonna be all mommy dearest psycho on it, anyway?

not...that that wouldn't be fun for ME...but the kid, well...

the kid probably wouldn't have too much fun with that, I'm thinking.

my bebby's ok

last night I was BEYOND upset. fussed and carried on. voiced the opinion that this pregnancy is (and I quote) "A HUGE FUCKING MISTAKE!!!" and said, "well, then we never should have done this!"

I couldn't visualize anything positive about having another child.

not a thing.

all I saw was burden, responsibility and fear.

then my uterus started to hurt (I had it coming)...

and I started to worry that the sprout (I think I'm sticking with sprout over squirt. it just feels right) decided I was unworthy and was going to make its way on somewhere else.

so I calmed down. I touched my belly and tried to send reassuring vibes. I was still pretty well worked up, so I failed miserably...and my tummy kept hurting right on through the night.

I was afraid with every pee that I would regret those thoughts and words and see blood.


nope. the sprout is fine. insisted on hearing the heartbeat again today...just as a reassurance...

and lo and behold, the lil' feller is still there.


it decided to give me another chance...

and I decided to stop fussing and appreciate what I have.


I also found out that what I suffered from during my first delivery (most of which I don't remember between convulsions and drugged-up-edness) was probably pre-eclampsia.

so that's that. no more stress for me.

none. none. none.

I want to stay low risk and deliver this baby at home (wherever that may be)...

comfortably. securely. safely.


in the scheme of things "losing" a house is no big deal (its not like its being stolen from us...we're just selling it for peanuts)...

losing a baby would be devastating.

my hormones

can go pack sand.

I hate ALMOST everyone today.

good thing I'm not working.

(don't EVEN get me started about the last in a series of viruses I caught from my little dolls at work. NO TREATMENT. self-limiting. NO OPTIONS. I am going to have a 'dermatological condition' for the next 6-18 months (potentially longer since I have a pregnant, compromised immune system) and look like a fucking leper. did I mention NO TREATMENT??? or the little pussy, rashy scabby fucker who sneezed on my lip last week? wonder what ailment that nets me??? what was I saying? oh yeah...I hate almost everyone)

bad thing we can't afford to either sell OR live here. the realtor(s) last night told me with deeply sympathetic looks that I can't even dream about getting $200k for this house (having NOTHING AT ALL to do with my neighbors' front yard looking like a fucking carnival display)

fucking awesome.


so...if anyone has a spare room and wouldn't mind blood stains on your carpet (I'm serious about this stabbing thing)...

hook a suki up.