ayude' me!

it hurts.

it=

-my head
-my lungs
-my back
-my belly
-my throat

someone send help...

please.

mucus

go away!

my mumps titer showed that I still have an immunity and no active infection.

shweeeet!

nevertheless, I'm sick as a dog.

for the record...coughing hurts like a mofo when your abdominal wall is stretched paper thin. I hereby veto coughing.

while I'm sweating and gagging and feeling a bit nauseous from swallowed phlegm...I can't help but wonder if the lil' booger is sick, too???

is he in there gasping for breath and aching like a mofo?
does the lil' guy need a fluid change or an ice pack?

I can say one thing for certain...he's obviously as mechanically uncomfortable as I am, cause he won't stop SQUIRMING!!!

rootching around constantly. rib spreading, liver kicking, pelvis stretching antics.

I might mind it...

if I had anything else to do these days.

it has come to my attention

that I'm NOT pure evil.

we started our hypnobabies class this week (holy most boring three hours of my life) and got a chance to chat up the instructor for a few minutes before getting started.

a little background on Lasi:

she's a birth doula, a child birth educator, a hypnotherapist, mother of three and co-founder of the mothering and more support and education network. a true and through baby loving, parenting hippy guru...

and SHE didn't like being pregnant, either!!!

!!!YES!!!

I am NOT the most selfish, self-centered, self-involved whine-a-baby on the planet.

some people just don't like being knocked up.

that being said...with all my brand spanking new hypno-programming going on...

I can honestly say that I haven't hated it this week. he's getting big (probably too big) and squishing my internal organs...

but I feel a blissful sort of exhaustion that I might (dare I say it?) equate to 'peace' in my less worked up moments.


that...and I know I'm close, now.

not because I'm having dreams of the baby (I've been having those all along)...


but because I'm having dreams of climbing, again.

cracker ass crackers

so I'm chilling at the tennis courts, letting the dogs run down their too-long claws when the high school kids get out.

as mandated by the uber-wealthy suburban code, the range rovers, lexuses and large toyota SUV's start flying by...inexperienced teenagers at the helms, playing shitty music too loudly, and ignoring stop signs.

then...something (really) funny happened. a volkswagen full o' white kids was driving around the neighborhood screaming "NIGGER!!!" at equally white kids on their way home to million dollar houses.

I laughed. I peed. I had to start walking home to change my drawers.

it was a good thing that I was already on my way home, cause I piddled again when I saw the archetypal thick necked, square headed jock kid, driving a spiffed up standard issue, country-boy mustange at a stop sign...

listening to gospel.

the emo kids talking about skate boarding and the two puerto rican boys talking about what gats they wanna get were annoying....but at least they made sense.

I haul my overly large ass up the hill to find my daughter and 3 of her friends (all eating MY fruit) standing at the corner in skinny jeans.

now, to my kid's credit...she probably belongs to the only trully heterogeneous group in the district. there were two skinny girls. two white girls. two black girls. two chubby chics. short hair, long hair, different styles, different lilts to their voices ("like....OH MY GOD!!" and "how yoooou doing?")

but, ladies. ladies, ladies, ladies...

come on.

skinny jeans???

wtf.

dude! no.

the school nurse made the rounds this morning advising all pregnant women in the school that a child was hospitalized with mumps. a child in one of my classrooms.

with a sibling in another of mine.

needless to say...ten minutes later, Miss Suki was out.
*insert cartoon take-off noise*

I'm now on my way to the lab for a titer...sent directly to the hospital lab...so IF...

just in case I'm a dirty virus carrying mofo...

I don't get other pregnant women sick.

dude....no.

saturday night in lame-o land

we're listening to the red sox (cause we don't have TV)...

and watching the neighbor tool around the kitchen in her panties.

she's kinda hot.

perhaps tonight isn't so lame, after all...

brownie batter? WHAT brownie batter???

no. I wasn't just eating brownie batter by the spatula full.

no. I didn't poor the pathetic remnants into a much smaller pan to hide my indiscretions.

no. I won't have a belly-ache or get salmonella.


today I put some things into perspective. (and it had nothing at all to do with brownie batter...honest)

pregnancy has been stomping me...and I've been whining like a lil' bitch the entire time.

I now know why.

I came into this pregnancy prepared. ready. able. willing. wanting it.

feeling like a million (albeit chubby) bucks and on top o' da world. nausea couldn't touch me. I'd climb til I was due, and riding would fill out the remainder of my time.

it was going to be PERFECT.

ha. haha. hahaha. hahahhahaha

then I got sick.

superwoman image shattered. I actually felt disappointed with me for allowing myself to feel crappy, again. I felt like I was strong enough to fight it down.

I'm a scrappy (if not entirely brave), feisty lil' woman. I can handle anything.

again....hahahahha

so not only did I feel yickdafied...I was disappointed in myself, as well. which made me feel more yicky. more disappointed. more yicky. more disappointed...

and meanwhile I was falling out of shape and getting spongy.

but NOW...NOW!!! I've changed my entire perspective. given myself some leeway. cut myself some slack.

now, I see it like this...if this lil' ninja-fu-kwon-do booger is able to so thoroughly whip my tail...

he's one bad mofo.

that's right, bitches.

I'm having a super baby. he's 3 lbs and 15 inches of sheer chuck norris + bruce lee + mighty mouse with a side of will smith bad assedness.

he's gonna slide out swinging and karate chop the midwife in her throat.

he's gonna be a wild-haired, cloth-diapered menace to society...

and leading our climbs in four years.

he's gonna eat raw squirrels, and wash it down with tarantula venom...

then he's gonna share a bowl of brownie batter with me.

this kid...

is gonna be a tail-whipping, name taking beast.


I better start shopping for reinforced titanium cribs, now.

ps.

I've gained almost 4 pounds in 2 weeks.


I MIGHT just save cart-man the effort and murder myself.

all hail the cart reetee!!!

I'm not sure if its federal law, but every grocery seems to have at least one resident "challenged" individual on staff.

ours...is the cart pusher.

this guy...well, he's plain ol' vanilla looney tunes. gesticulating wildly as a habit, talking to himself, non-stop...the dude is crazier than a shit-house rat.

his 'conversation,' when directed towards others is generally friendly and he seems (I hope) relatively harmless...yet somehow...

he scares the absolute shit outta me.

in my experience, the only thing more dangerous than a bona-fide 'out-of-toucher' (with reality, that is) is an out-of-toucher with a gun. I just can't get over the feeling that an accidental neck snapping is only one frustrating exchange away. (I'm gonna tend them rabbits, george....)

today...mr. cart reetee and I had a frustrating exchange.

NOT MY FAULT, I FUCKING SWEAR IT.

he looked a little peeved that I was coming out with a full cart of groceries...just as he was heading for the barn with his load of empties.

the dude got distracted (mayhaps by his second or third personality) and left two carts directly in the middle of the lane of travel. now, he's already pissed at me...simply for being there, what's a suki to do?

put my cart ALL THE WAY ON THE OTHER SIDE back in the carty returny thingy and make him walk out there (consequently...past my car, bringing him closer than I'd like)...or do I do the guy a prop and leave mine, in the middle of the fucking road, with the other two?

with my most giantest smile ever I pushed it to the other two and said, dripping with sweet sweet (don't rape me) honey, "here ya go, bud. got another one for ya!"

he went ape shit.

"no. no. no. I SHOULDN'T'A LEFT'EM THERE! NO. no. NO! SHOULDN'T'A LEFT'EM!!!"

I made haste to my car and locked my fucking doors. as I peeled out...I caught a glimpse of him in the rearview taking my cart, and my cart only, back to the store...

gesticulating wildly.

two minutes later, still stuck at the light...

I noticed the other two carts were still in the middle o' da road.

so....

I'm either going to cut my hair (unpossible. there's none left), get a total face transplant and grow 7 inches...

or find a new grocery store. cause homeboy, I'm sure...

wants to fucking kill me.

attention span, be damned!

I've started quite a few blogs recently...maybe one of them even worth reading...and haven't had the ability to stare at this computer long enough to finish one of them.

so I'll 'splain the run-down of recent events. no, there is no time...lemme sum up:

-the physiological symptoms of pregnancy seem to be simmering down a bit. I'm not nauseous, getting headaches or otherwise feeling like I ate a brick of rat poison. I'm in the home stretch now...from here on out its purely physical and emotional tailspin. I feel very...full. I'm not particularly large...and seem to have a tendency to have big babies.

this is b/c I've rebuked jesus, I know it.

so I don't sleep very much, cry when I shouldn't, have fire in my throat and crave alot of ice cream...but it really isn't that bad. I've adjusted by going to friendly's every day, taking lots of naps and not really moving...at all.

and that seems to have settled that.

- I almost completely disowned my mother last week (without her knowledge). this could be a very long story...however, I'll just suffice it to say that I've dealt with some demons and will probably allow her to see the kid...

just never ever babysit for fear that she might run off to mexico without telling me. bitch.

-oqui went office space and it was hilarious. the kid and I watched in amusement as he stabbed the shit out of an old tape...all the while muttering to himself and us that, "oh. this is gonna be bad. real bad. I'm angry. don't look at me. I'm really angry."

poor kid. he really needs a bike ride.

- the ex came to pick up some mail and we got to chatting about what's going down in his world. while I don't really approve of some of his choices...he seems to at least be enjoying himself.

you know...in the kind of way that artists enjoy self-torment and over-indulgence.

I'll just pray for his liver (and his pecker) and continue to try to persuade that he REALLY really wants this house back.

I won't, however, hold my breath.

- the kid has a birthday coming up....so I should probably accept that she'll soon be sporting new, unacceptable clothing and make-up a la MomMom...and step away from the knife drawer.

- babies are expensive and I don't really have a job. this is an on-going theme, though...one I'm attempting to remove from my radar by eating self-rationed, semi-dark chocolate squares.

- I'm looking forward to getting active, again. while I'm (believe it or not) starting to enjoy my uber-laziness (rest and hydration are, after all THE very best defenses against pre-term labor)...I had a dream the other night that my first time back climbing...I was stronger than I've ever been before.

I drooled a lil' bit. I'm getting pretty excited.

I <3 fall.
I get to meet my lil man soon (not soon enough).
I'll be climbing and riding and skiing before I know it...
and my boobs are getting purty durned big.

all told...life doesn't suck (despite the wicked backache).

yet me go!

I went back to work yesterday...planning on filling a vacant reading position at the high school until either:

a. they hired a 'real' teacher
b. I went into labor
or (the most likely option)
c. I got sick of it.

well...I got sick of it in three hours.

by 4th period a psychopath threatened me.

by sixth I had a student on a bad trip.

by seventh I could only laugh and say things like, "oooh! did they hire a juggler?" or "hmm. must be taco day" when the cafeteria errupted into fights and chaos.

by 8th a vice principal came into my classroom and lectured the mongloids for 20 minutes (in the process saying some uber discriminatory things about me that I'm still deciding whether or not to pursue) while a student made lude humping gestures behind his back.

by ninth I had called in to quit the position...and told 6 or 10 people off.

all told, I spent 7 1/2 hours in Hades...and decided once and for all (I really mean it this time)...that I'm never going back. I let the sub service know that under no circumstances should I be considered for any position where the students are too big for me to toss...

and since the 5th graders are 20 years old in this district...I'm stopping at about 2nd grade...

if I ever go back at all.

I'm not sure what the hell I was thinking to begin with. I was bored. we need money...it made sense at the time. I was feeling well rested and figured "I climb mountains...I can handle these punks."

neg.a.tive.

mountains don't curse you out and make you wanna punch them. I'm still reeling over the fact that a 16 year old boy physically threatened a woman almost 8 months pregnant.

if oqui had been there, that kid've died. hell...if ANY gentleman or member of polite society had been there, they would've ripped his face off.

total losers.

so the district continues to crumble (it's literally the worst I've ever seen it)...and i'm not having one single. fricking. thing. to do with it.

it's outta my hands...

not worth me going to jail over.

I have come to realize...

1. I have come to realize that my butt: doesn't belong on a white woman

2. I have come to realize that when I talk: I DEMAND TOTAL SILENCE AND YOUR RAPT AND COMPLETE ATTENTION, MAGGOTS!

3. I have come to realize that if I love someone: I'm probably pretty tough on them.

4. I have come to realize that I need: chocolate. lots of chocolate. bitch...where is my motherfucking chocolate?

5. I have come to realize that I lost: my desire to work with children...EVER again.

6. I have come to realize that I hate it when: I accidentally pee a little bit when sneezing.

7. I have come to realize that if Im drunk: I should hide my cell phone lest I start send unclothed pictures to people who REALLY don't wanna see that.

8. I have come to realize that marriage: is complicated...and expensive.

9. I have come to realize that work: is, has been and will always be my nemesis.

10. I have come to realize that I will always be: a big bootied ho.

11. I have come to realize that I like: cursing...alot.

12. I have come to realize that the last time I cried was: yesterday. sleep deprivation makes you whacky.

13. I have come to realize that my cell phone is: never anywhere near me when ringing.

14. I have come to realize that when I wake up in the morning: I'm already bored.

15. I have come to realize that before I go to sleep at night: I should pee...twice.

16. I have come to realize that right now I am thinking about: sleep and peeing.

17. I have come to realize that babies: are vicious lil' rib jabbing gansters.

18. I have come to realize that when I get on blogger: uh, I'm here for the gang bang.

19. I have come to realize that today I will: sit. sweat. plan and stew.

20. I have come to realize that tonight I will: see above.

21. I have come to realize that tomorrow I will: still be bored.

22. I have come to realize that I really want to: HAVE SOME FREEDOM!!! suki needs to travel...like...bad.

23. I have come to realize that working out: will have to wait.

24. I have come to realize that friends: usually DON'T have brownies in their back pockets.

25. I have come to realize that the person who might repost this is: probably wittier than I...and less pregnant.

5'9"

that's not vodka...I swear it.

that's how tall I'd like to be for the remainder of this pregnancy.

I'm thinking an extra six inches of trunk space oughta suit the lil' booger just fine...and keep people from feeling the need to comment on just how small I am.

maybe if I was taller, he'd consider getting his toes outta my ribs. but I'm not. so he won't.

he's head down, back to the left, appendages to the right and nestled snuggly into my spleen.

hands and feet are busier than ever...'massaging' my innerds.

joyful.

last night he was contorted in such a fashion that I felt like if I rolled over I'd break his little leg.



not gonna lie...I considered rolling over just to test the theory. (wooooh, lawdy do I feel evil for typing that!!!! hahahah)

besides being completely squished (both of us)...all is proceeding well. my midwives think I'm a sissy (because I complain like its my job)...and I swear they were all but SUGGESTING a hospital birth with medication. holy, shit, sista. are you for real?

where my support is at?

so I've decided that I'm going to make it a point to relay to these two lovely ladies that being a cry-baby and a sissy are two entirely different beasts (with me, admittedly, being the former...while the jury is still out on the latter).

yeah, I whine. I'm bored, uncomfortable and (did I mention?) bored...I can't drink, eat sushi or even cookie dough (the horror!)...

so I bitch for sport - my newly found release valve (my old ones involved extreme sports and lots of core workouts). that doesn't mean I'm not tough, you dirty heffa!

so now they've pissed me off. good thing, too, cause now I feel a brand new (and improved) sense of determination to have this baby naturally...my way. maybe this woman is incredibly perceptive, sensed my looming apathy (have I maybe, perhaps...once or twice maybe mentioned how much I dislike being pregnant?) and knew that pissing me off was the most likely way to ensure my "participation" in the process.

participate this, d-bag. I'm gonna have the fastest, most comfortable labor you've ever seen...complaining not a once. and you'll be lucky to be called in to catch the baby and pick up my discarded slimy innerds...cause I don't like you that much, anymore.

and one other thing...if one of them tells me I'm "tiny" one more time...there gonna get a nice tiny fist to the throat. I'ma bruce lee the next person to comment on my small-i-tude. I feel gigantic...and the last thing I want to keep hearing is how small I am...or how big I'm GOING to get.

this baby is gonna be a giant (not that this pleases me...you know with the whole natural childbirth thing and all) and I'm plenty large, myself, thank you!!!

see? PLENTY big...perhaps a bit skeletal...but PLENTY big.

eff 2 u, life touch!

I hate (HATE HATE HATE) school portraits.


they're cheesey, gay, a rip off, and a bit "in your face" if you know what I mean.


Life Touch, purveyor of cheesey portraiture, happens to be at the top of my list of companies that should be allowed nowhere near a school.


take the district I teach in, for instance...85% of these kids receive free lunch, medical assistance and food stamps. they don't have a lot of cash to be throwing around...and Life Touch (good ol' Life Touch) takes it upon themselves to photograph these children THREE TIMES A YEAR!


what? two of those times they don't even give the parents the opportunity to pre-order then only photograph the kids who actually can and will buy.


nope. they disrupt the whole school (taking up classroom and hallway space and valuable instruction time) for days on end...snapping shots of every kid in sight...


most of whom haven't even combed their hair. and if they haven't (they don't)...the photographer has a handy dandy trusty multi-child comb he or she whips out to tame the fly aways.


without fail...two weeks after picture day there is an outbreak of lice.


after photographing all these kids (for the second or third time that year) they take the liberty to go ahead and print up packages for ALL OF THEM.


yes. all of them.


they then send them home with the kids with cool lil' gadgets like stickers, bookmarks, and photo back pack tags...and expect the parents to cough up the money to keep from breaking the kids' hearts.


if they can't (and don't) pay...they are supposed to return the packages to the school, who then returns them to the studio...


who then destroys all of that good paper, non-biodegradable ink and plastic.


I hate them.


so every year I make it a point to write an incredibly nasty and accusatory note and send it along with my child on picture day. two years ago I threatened the teacher's life if she let them photograph my kid, again.


lo and behold, her class was called down while with the social studies teacher (who hadn't read my 'fight the man....and Life Touch' note)...and I got another set of cheesey portraits to throw away.


this year, as tradition dictates, we wrote another note...



however, my kid is older and wiser than before and has learned that I'm crazy...and just didn't get in line when it was her turn.


I ALMOST KINDA feel bad that I'm making her a social outcast with my strong opinions and general distaste for anything commercial. Last night, when she saw us cackling away while filling out her 'order form' she said, "oh, no. not again. can't you just be normal or something?" I said hell no and threw my fist in the air. She then told me, "sometimes...you just gotta go with the flow." Negative, I say. Threw the fist in the air again and said, "fight the man, my child." She rolled her eyes and walked away. despite her rebuking my views...I know it. the force is strong with this one...even though she didn't hand in my note.


curses!


I suppose...I'll just have to mail my notes directly to the studio, instead...


with a bomb.

babies are boring

can somebody PLEASE tell me what the hell I was thinking???