Rethinking: away

I'm thinking back over what I wrote. And noticing how I sound.

Angry, still. Sad. Pessimistic. Maybe a bit hopeful?

I still got a long ways to go, with everything.

I want to learn from all of this. Being pregnant has taught me so much, and opened my eyes to so much, some times whether I wanted to or not. But one thing I'm thinking al0t about is what is really important to me. This baby, my family, my work. But yet I have so much fear, and it feels like so little faith at times.

I'm too tired to think anymore right now and Cucumber has settled to kick me on just one side, which means I need to go to bed.

Maybe not thinking is the key to this one.

away.

Christmas has come and gone. The days after always seemed kinda sad to me as a kid, all that excitement and then poof, its gone. My family was never really big with doing anything for New Year's. We'd stay up until midnight watching TV, but that was about it. A few times I'd stay with my cousin at my grandma's house. She'd let us buy all the junk food we wanted and stay up and watch cable. That was a big deal coming from a house where junk food equaled stale twinkies and we had no cable until 1999.

This year, we really didn't do any gift exchanges, all the money is being saved for the baby now. We did go to church with my dad and H's mom, which was nice. The past couple of days its also been nice just to operate on my own schedule. Eat when I want, sleep when I want, move when I want. Everyone keeps reminding us to enjoy this now, because once she gets here, its all over.

Tonight I've decided to start clearing out our extra bedroom. We don't really plan to have a true nursery for her, she'll stay in our room for quite some time. But this spare room is used as a junky office right now, and I want to try to utilize all the space we have in the apartment. I cleared out a file drawer and started looking through old papers from classes I taught during the Spring.

Spring 05 I was teaching composition and literature courses and eagerly awaiting to here about my PhD application at the place I applied. I was very different then, for lots of reasons. Some good, some bad. In just a matter of months, I'm in awe at how quickly things can change. And, at how I have so little control over any of it. Six months ago, I was looking for a full time job so that my husband could finish his Masters full time, work part time, and save up enough for our move because of my acceptance into a PhD program. I felt like I could do anything, and that I had it all worked out.

I got a full time job, and within in a month of that, found out I was pregnant. I still felt like I was on course, could finish working the job, husband could finish degree, hey the baby would even be at his graduation. About two months after that, my husband's mother was diagnosed with breast cancer. We started to think about whether or not we really could move so far with this diagnosis. Granted, the move was still 6-8 months away, but I had to let the school know for sure whether or not I was coming. The doctors couldn't tell us anything other than that she would need chemo after the surgery, and with the surgery not happening until late December, the chemo would not start until the end/beginning of February and we didn't know how long it would last. With the baby due in April and the move scheduled for June, I knew it couldn't be done. I told them I wasn't coming.

So much of the angst and anger I felt initially came from selfishness, I wanted my plan to work because I had created it and I liked it. Nuff said. Then I became angry because I started to feel stuck. Stuck in this city where I've been all my life. Stuck in a job I dread going to every day. Stuck with so few opportunities to actually do what I love, teach and write and research. I just got angry. And then I got sad. So sad, there would be days when I'd have tears in my eyes as I worked. Days when I would cry and half the time not even really understand why. Looking back on it, I know that some of the time this was probably my hormones, but it also comes from this disorder I have. The constant need to be in control and the feeling that I can think myself out or into anything. H says its comes from school, the idea that I can read a book and think or mull over something and come up with an answer in no time flat. I agree, I am so addicted to school and reading that in some ways it probably does affect me socially, but for so long, its just been all that I know.

And now, I know that I don't know. I'm not sure that I'm okie with that, but I've come to that realization. There are just some things I don't know the answer to, and no amount of reading or thinking on my part is gonna give me an answer. If you had told me a year ago, that I'd be pregnant, a full-time secretary, not going back to school anytime soon, and going through the illness of a family member all at the same time, I' d have frozen. And in some ways I have frozen. I have days where I don't quite know what to do, what move to make, and its like I just find myself going through the motions. But I have to believe. I have to believe that all of this is happening at this very moment for a reason.
And I can't ask why, or I can ask but it might not be revealed.

Tonite there are so many different parts of me that feel so far away; my writing self, my teaching self, my worry self, my planning self, my just-make-do or half-ass self. Some of those selves I miss, some of them I don't. This pregnancy has taught me to honor myself and not be half-ass with anything. I want to do my best because I want to set a good example for my daughter. But I miss the teaching and writing selves. I'm not able to dedicate myself to those things right now, there are too many other things I have to tend to. I don't miss the worry self, not at all. As weird as it may seem, this pregnancy has provided me with a calmness I never felt before. It gives me reason to stop and feel. Not only to feel what's going on inside of me, but what's going on around me as well.

That other person I was months ago, just feels so far away from me right now. I want part of her to come back, but I don't know if she will, or if she should.

Due Dates don't mean Much

I forgot to mention in the past post about the ultrasound, apparently there is more confusion on my due date. Now I've heard the following:

April 16
April 26
April 29
May 2

Anybody got any ideas?

...and the Saga shall begin... (Week 20/21?)

So, last Friday (12/16/05) was the big day, we had our 5 month/ 20 week prenatal visit with complete ultrasound. Amazing. (I've got to find another word to use, but I'm finding that there are very few words that can really describe this process.)

The doctor did the ultrasound with H standing just behind him, the room was dark and there is a small monitor that shows the pictures, everything is in black in white. The first thing we saw was the head, the doctor measured and we are happy to report that all is normal, then the spine, a long white snake-looking thing, with tiny vertebrae, gorgeous. Then the abdomen, where we saw a tiny beautiful heart, beating away. We saw the chest cavity, stomach, liver, and all of the other organs that the doctor looks for. Then, baby began to get antsy and wanted to show us what the purpose of this visit was really all about, cartwheels! As soon as the doctor would press down with the wand to get a good close look, flip, and we'd see the butt. Legs stretched, arms moved, hands pushed, lets hope baby is this eager when its time for delivery.

The doctor asked us if we wanted to know if we were having a boy or girl, we'd agreed before that we wanted to know, but we just didn't want to share the name with anyone. So, doc zoomed in to focus between the legs, and what did we find? An umbilical cord! The cord was planted nicely were genitals should be! He waited and looked a bit more, and sure enough, it looks like a girl. A gorgeous, sassy, smart, girl. We are thrilled!

After we left the hospital we started to discuss all the cool things we want her to do: soccer, yoga, tai ji, kung fu, Yale, Oxford, Rhodes Scholar, guitar player, and of course, just be happy. Then we started to think about when she'd break curfew, want to date, tell us that she wanted to wear tight clothes and not want to go to school, I nearly balled.

How is it possible to love such a little person who kicks me in my gutt every hour, nestles her head in my rib cage (or feet, I can't tell), gives me the worse gas I've ever had in my life, keeps me awake at night with horrible leg cramps, and makes me cry for no apparent reason? I don't know, but this is all so amazing.

I'm a hatah baby, I just want ya to know...

I am learning so much about myself, but its a son-of-a-gun that it takes hard/difficult/challenging times in order for me to do this learning. I always want to do it the easy way, like, can't I read a book or take a class on it, or something?

I've had a most difficult time readjusting myself to the fact that everything and everybody does not work on my schedule. I know, I know, this lesson will be best learned when the baby gets here and begins to rule the roost with an Iron fist. I don't know where this need to control and plan comes from in me, but its something that I battle constantly.

I think that is one of the reasons I'm afraid of labor, because I know that I won't be in control- not the I that I'm so accustomed to. The I that will be in control will be a primordial I, my body, that will instinctively know what to do (or so I've been told). But how do I know that I can trust that I? A few weeks ago, I wrote about how my dad said that I lack grounding, or how the only things I've ever really been grounded in are my husband and my education. That is so true. How do I ground myself in both I and I?

Rumble in Me Tummy-Week 20

The sweetest bestest thing about this week is that Cucumber moves enough now so that I can feel it. I can't really describe the feeling, but its so sweet. It's like a miniture rumble or temble in my tummy ever so often.

Certain foods and drinks seem to cause the rumble even more: orange juice, pasta w/ veggies, and pancakes. This kid likes to eat already.

The pinched nerve doesn't hurt quite as bad, but I've been tired lately and I think its because the baby is going through another growth spurt.

Next week is our 21 week visit and we shall determine if said Cuke is a boy or girl (and pray that all is growing according to plan), either way we have a majorly cool name....stay tuned!

GradeSchool Grammars...

I went to small Catholic schools all my life, until College. And I do mean small. The school I went to for grades K-3 actually closed down because of low enrollment, then I switched to another for 4-8, but that school had 0 funds. Most of the kids were there on some form of scholarship or the nuns and Church helped to pay their way. That school actually closed down a year ago because they were so in the hole, as far as funding goes. Then my first year of high school I went to a very small Catholic prep school. Total enrollment, grades 9-12:60. Yup. They closed down too. I finally finished up high school for grades 10-12 at a larger (156 grades 9-12) all girls school. Needles to say, I've had some pretty interesting experiences.

My elementary schools were both made up primarily of lower-middle class folks. The first one, was really diverse in terms of color, but the second was all black with the exception of 3-5 white kids who were there. Some of my fondest memories from both those schools had nothing to do with the kids, I really didn't have any friends. But the libraries were amazing for me.

At the first school, we'll call it Divine Mother K-8, there was a huge library that took up most of the second floor. In the early days of the school, there was money and funding, but as the neighborhood broke down and people starting moving to the suburbs and sending their kids to school out there, the school changed too. But this library was amazing. I remember the checker-boxed floor, it was always cold. There were radiators that heated the building, but anyone who has had the experience of a radiator heated building/house/apartment knows that you are only warm if you are within two feet of the thing. In the summer, the library was hot, with an old air conditioner trying its best to push cool air out into the large room. There were book shelves that lined all of the walls. In the center there was a large old colorful carpet and rocking chair. The chair was were the librarian would sit to read to us. She was the stereotypical librarian, short, chunky, thick hair cut short but still out of control, and glasses so thick you could barely see her eyes.
We went to the library as a class once a week, but were able to go more often if we wanted. I adored reading. I mean adored. My grandmother taught me to read when I was about 3 years old and it was like starting a fire in a woods full of dry brush. The most exciting thing about trips to the library was the independence you felt. As a kid there are very few choices you get to make for yourself, but in this place, this space, I was allowed to choose any book I wanted. I read everything from astronomy to mysteries to history. I loved learning about space and I really enjoyed Hellen Keller's biography and the Nancy Drew series. When that school closed down at the end of my 3rd grade year, the librarian told me that I'd read the equivalent to all the books on two of the largest walls.

At my next school the library was much smaller. About the size of a large master bedroom, the walls were full of books and in the center of the room there were about 2 or 3 computers. That school, we'll call St. Augustine's sufferred greatly when it came to finding ways to gain money. There were rarely new books, and many of the ones we had were so old. By the time I graduated, four years, I'd read every book in that library, including the ones for the younger kids because I would read to them in their classrooms. By this time I'd also discovered book stores and the thrift store. My mom and I would go to the Goodwill on the weekends and for five bucks I could load up. Thats where I discovered Harper Lee's To Kill a Mockingbird and S.E. Hinton's That was Then, This is Now. I also read your typical pre-teen girly books, the Sweet Valley Twins series and the Babysitter Club books, but I always came back to the more serious ones, the ones that would make me cry or shiver because I could feel what the characters were going through.

In high school I was fortunate to have great English teachers, so while we read the traditional Chaucer, Shakespeare, Hemingway, we were also introduced to really good contemporary writers as well (Sherri Reynolds and Jane Smiley to name a few). My favorite book from high school would have to be Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness. I think it was the layers, the way Conrad was able to have his character move deep into the Congo and not only change the scenery, but the way the character was seeing and how we as readers saw him. It was also my first introduction to African history. Or I guess, questioning the history I was being taught and read about.

In college I of course became an English major, but my reading was actually stifled during that time period. There were more choices, a larger library, the ability to check out as many books as I wanted, but there wasn't that same sense of freedom that I felt back in 3rd grade. I no longer felt like I could wander into the science section, or history. I stayed in the literature section and read only what my teachers told me, or what I thought I was supposed to read.

Here lately though, I've been reading like a 3rd grader again. When I wonder around in the book store I try to hit all the sections, not just fiction or Oprah's choices. We should all read like 3rd graders.

growing too fast

This week I have had more growing pains than I expected. My back, stomach, ribs, and pieces that I didn't even know exisisted on my body have been stretched, and from what I can tell will continue to stretch for the next 41/2 months. Wow.

I even went to the drs b/cs of all this stretching, but apparently its all normal. I noticed today after my yoga class that I felt much better, the stretching and positions I forced my body into really helped to work out some of those kinks. The stress I've been under since Thanksgiving also probably hasn't really helped anything either.

But, its almost time for Christmas break, a nice few weeks off, and in a couple of weeks I get to find out if Cucumber is a boy or girl, hopefully not both.

Until then, I'm dealing with the stretching, gas, and quickening movements and just trying to keep it all together as best I can.

***
Cucumber seems to really like my left side for flips and movement more than any other side. Cool.

How Amazing...Week 19

It does not seem like it should be week 19 yet, I feel like it was just Saturday morning and I woke up knowing that I needed to take a pregnancy test. That could not have been 3 and a half months ago.

That day my life changed, and it was so weird, so odd. I'd been feeling moody and grumpy, but attributed it to my period starting, PMS. But the period never came. One Saturday morning I woke up after the weirdest dream* and just knew that I needed to take a pregnancy test. I had one, because I'd had a moment or two before where for a minute I thought I might be, but wasn't. So, I got up, went into the bathroom and peed the stick. Within two minutes there were two lines. Two lines.

H was stretched out asleep on the living room floor, and I immediately woke him up. I didn't shout or yell, it was just a hushed, "H, I think I'm pregnant." He was groggy, but got up and stumbled into the bathroom with me. I had to get a second opinion on the pink lines. After we both decided it was pink, we then decided we needed to go to Target and get at least 2 or 3 more tests, just to verify.

I think what shocked me the most about the entire thing was just the fact that I felt no different physically. I was my same self, just with PMS symptoms, but other than that just fine. That lasted for about two weeks only, then the morning sickness began to settle in.

Now, I'm 19 weeks along and feeling pretty darn preggo. My body is changing right before my eyes, its so weird when I look at myself now, because its like my face, but the body is just weird, different, bigger.

An interesting aside:

My mom and H were talking before Thanksgiving about how 'well' they thought I was handling the pregnancy. Both seemed to be relatively shocked, due to the fact that I had not panicked a great deal and was handling things like doctor visits, getting blood drawn, and the prospects of labor pretty well. They then went on to discuss my weight gain. I've put on a total of 10 pounds. They both agreed most of the weight has gone to my boobs.

That I'm sure, was a weird conversations. Husbands and mother-in-laws should not discuss wives/daughters boobs.

hard times

I'm having a hard day. Yesterday was a bit scary. I kept feeling this weird tingly sensation under my right boob. I'd noticed it over the weekend, but couldn't tell if it was really something or just me and my crazy ole head. But yesterday I noticed it again when I was at work typing. So I called the doctor and they were able to get me in right away. Strangely enough, I wasn't nearly as worried as I thought I would be, I was only slightly-panicked. The nurse got the baby's heartbeat again, took my urine, blood pressure and had me to sit on the table to go over my symptoms and wait for the docotor. Dr. came in and felt around, poked and prodded only to tell me that because of my growth spurt (tummy, boobs, etc) and my posture, I'm probably cutting off blood to a nerve in that area, nothing to worry about he says. I just have to constantly remind myself to sit up straight. That is hard.

Its also difficult because I'm having to sleep on my left side now. Or my right, but the left is better they say b/cs this is a way for the baby to get more blood and nutrients from the placenta. Prior to the pregnancy I was totally a tummy-back sleeper. Sometimes I wake up and catch myself and panic because I've flipped over on my back. So what I've done now is to put lots of pillows around me on either side, makes it almost impossible for me to turn over without kinda waking myself up a bit to readjust and get the pillows right, which makes me think twice about sleeping on my back/tummy and gets me to sleep on my side. However, as a result of this new side-sleeping endeavor my side aches and feels all crampy.

Okie- so I feel guilty for so much complaining, lets try to balance this out.

Good: Baby is healthy.

Bad: I hate work.

Good: Work allows me monies to save for un BeBe.

Bad: My left side feels like a lumpy old tree.

Good: The Baby got plenty of fluids and nutriets last night while I was sleeping.

Bad: I hate doctors and yesterday panicked when I began to think about going into the hospital for birth.

Good: If I can continue with yoga and keeping myself fit, then I might not have a bad labor.

Bad: Labor is meant to be work intensive.

Good: You get a baby out of it.

I'm trying!

quickening

For the past couple of weeks I've felt like there is a loose marble or actually, lemon, rolling around in the bottom of my gut. My guess, and what the books are telling me, is that this is Cucumber. Sometimes I feel it more than others, usually after I've had a meal (especially something heavy, pasta, big salad, dessert). Its such a weird feeling. I can't really describe it, but its like what a ball looks like in water. How do you describe a feeling with what something looks like? I dunno, but thats the best I can come up with. It makes me feel so amazing. Amazing. My word for this entire process. But right now I just felt it a couple of seconds ago, its just a flash. The doctor says I won't feel anything hard and fast for at least another 2-3 weeks, but this is pretty darn cute.

Freedom

I've included a new little ticker countdown, this one is a countdown to freedom.
I'm learning something that my dad has been trying to tell me for the past four months. Once you find out you are pregnant, your life does change. Whether you want it to or not. I'm having to deal with some things that a year ago I would have totally walked away from just because I could, just because it was me, and I would have found another way to get by. But now, because I'm a parent-to-be, its different. Sacrafices start early, but when I think of Cucumber, this is a small price to pay.

So, I'm chugging along right now- up hill, sometimes sliding back, but trying to move like the little engine that could- not because it wants to, but because it has no choice.

Week 17 Doctor Visit

So- my doctors visit went well today, thus far. The nurse had a hard time at first finding Cucumber's heart beat, but apparently that is because Cucumber likes to evade the Doppler mic. I guess no future MC in my belly.

I've gained a total of 9.5 lbs and my blood pressure was actual normal- gasp, normal, there is no way this pregnancy could actually turn me into a normal person, or could it?

We also had more blood work today to check for genetic disorders, which I pray turns out all good. The next visit is in 3 weeks and we get the mega ultra-sound done, to determine how Cucumber is developing and growing, and if Cucumber is a boy or girl!

Can I get an oh-yahy? Lil' John style please.....

Waffle House of Faith

Reading back over a previous post and comment I can't help but to laugh. Lets just say I've been down many a path when it comes to this, or to keep with the waffle pun, I've tried lots of different toppings on my waffle, there was the regular waffle with just butter and syrup, the sprinkling of sugar, and then the chocolat. Mmm, okie not sure where I was going with that one, but hey, I'm trying to be creative.

I was brought up in a house where my mother converted to Catholocism in the early 1970s when she married my dad. She had been raised Baptist, but felt that it would be good for the family to be 'one thing'. This is truly ironic, because it didn't turn out that way at all. My dad is a strict Roman Catholic, a pre-Vatican II baby. My early memories of going to church involve us leaving our house on Sunday evenings to atttend the 5:15 mass. For some reason I only remember going when it was cold, winter or fall, I don't know what we did in the summers. But it was cold, and always dark . The church, at the time, didn't have the same bright lights that it now has, there where tall candle like light fixtures that hung from the ceilings and cast shadows on the alter and down the isles, but it was never bright and cheerful. We would always sit in the same place. The church has a cross shape, with the altar at the head and wings of seats along the side. We always sat in front of the St. Joseph statue, the patron saint of families. The church was drafty, its a huge cathedral and actually gorgeous, despite the morbid picture I'm probably painting. I would sit in between my mom and dad and squirm around in the pew. There was singing, but not the clapping, swaying singing in my grandma's church, this singing was sharp and nasal-like, I remember wanting to know the words, but never quite figuring it out.
My mom would want me to sit up straight and listen, but it was hard for me to sit against the hard pews. My dad would tell her to not worry and let me sleep if I wanted to. At communion time, I'd either walk up with one of them, or stay in the pew. Wanting so badly to partake of the bread and wine, but still having no real idea what it was all about.
At home, I'd often pretend to be a priest. I would take my mom's silver plates out of the curio and put toasted bread on them, the host. Then I'd take a wine glass and get grape juice, the blood. I would pray over the bread and juice and then proceed to give myself communion over and over again until it was all gone.
Most Catholic kids take their first communion around 7 or 8. I didn't do mine until I was at least 10 or 11, I'm not sure why. I did it with my cousin, who was about 8 or 9. I don't know why my parents waited. But its funny because a couple of years ago my cousin laughed as she told me she remembered that when we went through the classes, I questioned everything. I don't remember that at all.

In high school I wanted to be different so to make myself seem like the 'minority' in a Catholic School I would just tell everyone I was Baptist. I wnet to church with my grandma and mom on the weekends (note here, my mom stopped going to Catholic church after I was about 8 or 9, though my bro and I were both Baptised there and had our first communions). I also enjoyed Vacation Bible school, there just seemed to be more fun involved and more kids my age at the Baptist Church. Spiritually, I don't think I was really growing, but my social life sure was.

Skip ahead a few more years, and in college I some how became a religous studies major. I took classes on Buddhism, Christianity, Islam, and the philosophy of Eastern and Western Philosophy. My mom says thats when the trouble started because I began to question everything. I'd always gone to Catholic Schools and we were taught about other religions, so I wasn't ignorant about them, but I became increasingly more curious about other faiths, much to the dismay of my mother and grandmother. But what always confused me, was the fact that my mom converted to a sect of Christianity because she thought it would be 'easy' for the family, and it didn't really stick, she always felt more at home in her old church. What was so different from my questioning and learning about other faiths?

I don't think my faith has waffled- I have always maintained a belief in God, but the system or systems is what gets me sometimes.

At one point, I totally knew where I was going with this, but after eating 6 slices of Pizza Hut pizza, I'm too far gone.

Pregnancy Week 17

Well-this is week 17 and seeing as how i've been trying to start (we'll I've started two), so start and keep a pregnancy journal, I decided maybe I'd use the blog as a combo deal.

So- here are my updates and thoughts for this week:

Cucumber, as we call said baby, really has been good this week. As if Cucumber could be bad invitro. If you look at me from the front you really can't see any difference, but from the side, there is a pouch. And oh boy, if I'm naked. Yeah, its kinda scary.

At night, for the past 2-3 weeks, I've had cramps in my legs at night that often cause me to cry out in pain. Then when H doesn't respond, I scream louder. Yes, I am a drama queen. I scream partly becuase of the pain and partly because I'm angry that he gets to sleep soundly and I feel like pooh-pot.

Eating, about normal, I've not gotten that sick feeling anymore, except when I get really hungry, so its like I can't let myself get hungry, so I try to eat as much as I can. Doritos, cookies, tofu, and yes french fries and subs.

I have felt random tingles the past couple of weeks, and I think its the fluids and Cucumber moving around, it feels weird, like a ball rolling in water. But cool, very cool.

I'm going to try and update this weekly and as soon as I get a digital camera, I'll take pics too. Wow! A big brown belly, I know you all can't wait to see that one!

I'm going to go back and post date-some comments because I want to try to do this right, not half-ass like many of my endeavors. So, I'll admit to that now, I'm not trying to cheat.

lil-bit-o-this-lil-bit-o-that

Well this week I got hit with a curve ball. Several. One big one and several small ones. I sincerely believe that when we make plans, God laughs. A good hearty laugh, and I don't mean that in a sarcastic way at all. But this has been one of the most difficult things that I've had to learn, and I am still learning this. I am not in control. Do you read that Ilnizzzah? You are NOT in control. Yes, you can decide whether or not to eat pizza or a sub for lunch, but there are many things you can not decide.

That can be o.k.

It will be o.k.

I've learned this week that I have to step back sometimes and let God decide what is going to happen because the more you hold tight to what you thought you wanted or what you want to do, the more you close your fist on your plans, the more you don't allow for anything else to enter into them. See, I have this tendency to decide something and the REFUSE to let go of it. No matter what, I just don't let go. Well, it just so happens that this continues to happen to me, oh so very often. First with one thing, then another. But I think I'm getting it now. As I look back on my life, so much of what has happened to me, so many of the people I've met, the work I've done, has just kinda fallen into place. There are so many awesome things that have happened to me and I could have never in a zillion years planned them. So who did?

That would be, HE.

And this time, I'm going to turn over the reigns early, cause I'm at a point where I don't know what's going on and where I'm supposed to be. I just know that there has to be a plan, somewhere, a path and I'm going to trust that light will shine and show me the way.

Commitment

Had an interesting conversation with my dad two nights ago. I'm amazed because growing up, I never thought he really knew or understood me. We were discussing my fears about becoming a mother, my dislike of work, and my fear of never returning to school*.

Well, he told me that I had no faith and that I'm not grounded. Then he recounted and said that actually there were two things I was grounded in, my husband and my education. He was so dead-on with that it wasn't funnny.

With everythign else I'm a waffle, just not certain about much of anything. I don't know what has caused me to be this way, but its just so true. I love my husband more than life itself and I love education as well. Through my husband I see goodness, with education I see liberation.

Now, this is not to say that I don't believe in anything outside of myself, husband, and education. I would like to say I'm a person of faith (just not sure which one). I find truth and beauty in so many different paths that its so difficult for me to find one that makes me say, this is it! My mother has told me that this is what I get for immersing myself in academia-learning a little bit about everything and questioning/doubting-but istn't that a part of finding faith? Didn't St. Augustine do this? Aristotle? Isn't this how you find out what you really believe?

I guess that I'm also thinking about this now because of the pregnancy and because my family wonders which holidays to buy Cucumber presents for. I've assured them that they should go ahead and buy for all. Except Kawanaza.

I'm such an ass.




*Note, I'm not gonna start a PhD in the Fall of 06 at the moment. Details to follow at a later date.

Things you may not have known....

I am tired today. So tired, that I'm almost at that point where just about everything seems funny, except for the fact that I am battling serious indigestion. I should probably admit to the fact that not all of this can be blamed on Cucumber*, I did in fact have Kofta Curry for lunch. My taste for food has changed drastically over the last few months, foods that I normally love, I can't stand. Most of what I eat (and enjoy) has to be filled with tomatoes, cumin, tahini, vinegar, or any combination of sharp serious spices.

Interesting huh?




*Cucumer=baby, because we don't know the gender just yet, so we settled on Cucumber.

Dadspeak

For years my brother and I swore our dad spoke a different language. We call it dadspeak. Some of what he says his totally inaudible-this happens when he gets really excited or worked up-and some of what he says is just a unique mixture of words and phrases that mean something to him and often nothing to the rest of us because we can't translate.
Up until a couple of years ago, I never bothered to even attempt a translation, I've translated Italian, Spanish, and some dialects of English, but never dadspeak. Then I decided I wanted to start telling stories, or writing stories, no scratch that telling stories and then hoping I'd start to write them somewhere, someday, about my dad. So, I started keeping notes about things he'd say. This weekend was priceless, got some good material:

Dadspeak: "If you gon' be holy, be holy, if you gon' be sin-boli, be sin-boli."
Translation: "You can't serve two gods."

Dadspeak: "Prepare for War in a time of Peace."
Translation: "You have to anticipate that at any given moment, the entire world is out to get you. Be paranoid, be very paranoid, and always plan accordingly.

Random Memories

Sade, Smooth Operator

This song came out in 1985, I was 7 years old and I remember riding in my dad's blue pick up and hearing this song. It was a Saturday evening. He was humming, quietly for once, and we were on our way to the Lotus Garden, a small Chinese restuarant on the other side of town from us. I knew his order by heart, beef and broccoli, shrimp fried rice for me and my mom, an orange, and fortuune cookies for me.

I sat on the passenger side and there was no radio installed in the truck. He would either play his music from a tape recorder, or a bike radio. Now, bike radios look like this but they used to look like this. The radio would be propped up somewhere in the truck, usually on the seat in the middle. I remember listening to this song, and riding along Broad Street and seeing the Sauer's lights. At that time I felt like the city was so big, so bright. It probably took only about twenty minutes to get to the Lotus Garden from our house, but it felt like a long ride, like when you crossed over the bridge it was a different world. Everything is different at night though, usually falling into one of two extremes: really good or really bad. Chinese food, listening to Sade, and riding in that old blue truck was good, really good.
***
Mos Def, Respiration

Now, DH (then my boyfriend) lived in that city, on that side of the city right on Broad, less than two blocks from Lotus Garden. And its different now, because the city that I thought was so big and bright now just looks dirty and tight. I feel boxed in, walking the streets I've walked for years, but no longer discovering anythign new or exciting about it.

Instead, what I discover is that people pee on the side of the Subway restuarant, its easy to shut down a city block when you think that floor polish smells like gas, people kill themselves and others in the middle of this street, and men with no legs sit and watch. Those nights were bad, but like Mos says, "You can feel the city breathing, chest heaving."And its true, on those nights the city fought for air, to try to catch its breathe, but there were nights where breathing did come easy.

At the Subway, we find owners who wash their hands, knives, and sandwhich board before they make our sandwhiches and make sure that we don't get no pork on our forks. We find old men who watch out and make sure don't no funny business go on in the buildings, and we also find each other. We are strong because we have to live in this city and we have to watch one another because we are still breathing.