Why are you touching me??? The 3E Reproductive Diaries

So, as a follow-up on the last blog post...I am no longer TTC but am almost 5 months pregnant!  Yea!  And during the 1st trimester I have come to find out that it was not the pain during child birth that God gave Eve as punishment for eating the damn apple....Nope!  It is the 1st trimester!!!  Holy Hell!  I can wait a bit before I subject myself to that again.

 

As a Gringa living in South America, I knew that I would have some cultural adjustments to make when I got pregnant.  I knew that people that I didn't know or knew but weren't intimate friends with would touch my stomach without asking as soon as they found out I was pregnant, thus when I got pregnant and started showing I made a conscious effort to psychologically prepare myself for this....I repeatedly told myself 3 things:

 

1. This is a happy time and they just want to partake in the happiness. (Which is true...however, this is based on the belief that most people are not perverts)

 

2. They are transmitting good vibes to me and my baby. (This is questionnable but I could dig it)

 

3. Pregnancy in Latin American culture is a familial and community event that brings happiness to all. (Yeah, I was reaching but there is some truth in this...I think).

 

I prepared myself for the belly touching from the time I found out I was pregnant and was so proud of my consciousness that this could be an issue for me and proactively preparing myself accordingly.

 

Me being proud and prepared :-)

 

 

Soooooo......did it work?

 

Nope!

 

Despite all the Zen I had going into this, the end result is that I just want to break people's hands or do something that makes them feel equally as uncomfortable.  At what point does me being pregnant mean that people get to lay hands on my body without my permission. 

 

A general rule:  If you didn't touch my stomach BEFORE I got pregnant, you have no right to touch my stomach WHEN I'm pregnant.  (At least without first asking....asking would be good)

 

You want to feel the baby?  Yeah, by touching ME your only feeling ME...sorry folks, baby is pretty well cushioned there.

 

Anyway, despite all the wicked t-shirts, bumper stickers, etc. that I've found to warn people of pending harm to their physical beings and/or psych, I'm still working up the nerve to creatively combat this problem without ending up in jail.  So until then, I react appropriately.  Allowing those with the happy hands to be happy while making mental notes of how to possible ward off future molestation.

 

Got any tried and true ways to keep happy hands off your happy belly??

 

Do share!  We'd love to know what you've come up with!!

You know you are trying to conceive when...

Think trying to get knocked up is easy and filled with flowers, butterflies and fluffy stuff?  For a minority of women, this is true...for the rest of us, a sense of humor is a prerequisite.  Here is a short list of the "joys" of trying to conceive. Sure, there is all that fluffy stuff too but there are enough blogs that focus on that and, as you know, fluffy stuff just isn't our style.  

You know you are trying to conceive when.....

1. You are measuring and quantifying everyhing you can in your life.  Basal Body Temperature, cervical mucus, lh predictor kit results, exercise, food, caffeine intake, etc.  Thank goodness for apps but good luck not losing your sanity...even just a little bit.

 

2. Your regular cycle gets wacky....just to keep you on your toes.

3. Those damned pregnancy tests all measure different levels of HGC and claim to be able to confirm pregnancy on different days of your cycle....resulting in fighting the urge (and often losing) any day after ovulation.  (Never knew that HPTs could be such a great business.)

4. TTC (Trying To Conceive) blogs become your greatest hope and worst enemy.

5. As ridiculous as all those TTC blog abreviations are, you start using them.  AF = Aunt Flow?  Seriously ladies, we are not in middle school...I hope!

6. You're partner has never been more interested in and open to talking about your cycle...and you realize just how much they didn't pay attention during high school sex ed.

7. Two weeks of each month feels like an eternity.

8. Sex, while still enjoyable, also feels like Olympics.  You may be exhausted, sick, battered or bruised but you still go for the gold!

9. Any PMS symptom now becomes a possible pregnancy symptom...damn you TTC blogs, websites and books!

10. Foreplay becomes "I think I'm going to ovulate soon" and it works, every time.

11. The idea of nausea, weight gain and breast tenderness has never sounded so good. 

That is my list!   Got any to add to?  We'd love to hear from you!

Not everything is Disney’s fault

So, this is the thing.  Every time I am introduced to someone it goes something like this:

Me: Hi! Nice to meet you.

Anyone: Nice to meet you too. Are you married?

(Seriously!!!!! Like your marital status is the most important thing about you. Not only that, whenever I see someone that I haven’t seen in a long time, the conversation goes “Are you married yet?” or “Did you finally get married?” (I’m almost 40, you see).

Part II.

Me: No, I’m still single.

Anyone: (sigh) Oh well! (followed by the universal look of pity/sadness/compassion…fill in the blank).

And the cherry on top…                                                     

Anyone: Don’t worry, you will find someone soon.

At this point I’m looking dangerously like the Vesuvius about to bury Pompeii and I am fighting hard to control a homicidal impulse. So I just change the topic and think to myself that it is not strange that I have lost most of my desire to socialize these days.   

You may have heard (repeatedly) that we are to blame Disney and his promotion of “princess waiting for prince charming” stereotype for false hopes and shattered dreams regarding romantic relationships, or in other words, for shaping our vision of life in an unrealistic way making us think we could get a prince when what we are most likely to get is, well, the frog.  Don’t get me wrong, frogs can be lovely, but they’re no princes.

I manage to see the point in these accusations, but what I would really like to know is who is to blame for the “other illusion”, namely that a woman’s only chance to fulfillment and bliss is to be married and have kids. (Enter the sad and pitiful look if you are not among the “blessedly” married-with-kids ones.)

I would love to have a kid, but as for marriage…Let’s just say it is not part of my fantasy. It never was. I honestly (cross my heart) never dreamed of a church, bells and flowers, nor a white dress or a husband. I never had a dream where I was Mrs. Prince Charming or Mrs. Frog. I’m simply not the marrying kind and that’s fine with me.

The problem is, it seems I’m the only one who’s fine with it because strangers and acquaintances definitely sense something’s just not right with this picture…Especially other women!  Most of the time I think they are so fixated about my couplessness because they are envious, plain and simple. They must think: “Well, if I have to put up with all this, why do you get a free pass?”.  Even if they’re not thinking it, they certainly look like they are.

But deep down I know there’s more. There is this socially accepted “truth” that women achieve happiness through childbirth and marriage. It is a woman’s role, a woman’s task, a woman’s gift, her woman’s destiny, hell…. It is a woman’s “nature”!!!!  Blame it on nature!?! Genius! So, of course they’re sad and compassionate, your nature is out of tune, meaning that you are likely damaged.

The very well known explanation for this social setting is the distribution of work: males have the productive role, females the reproductive one. Fine, we know that. But hello!!!!! It’s not like humankind is an endangered species anymore, we could actually benefit from a pause in reproduction.

However, when I have these conversations with other women (or they have them with me) I can’t help but to think on a different version of that explanation: one fine day, there was a guy who –presented with the puzzle of coexistence between woman and man- came up with a brilliant solution! “Let’s set separate roles for males and females: we produce, they reproduce”, said the founder of human society. It could not have worked without a brilliant marketing strategy too: the miracle of life creation is a gift of (for?) females, a wonder of nature and whoever has that gift and does not use it has to be crazy right? To other women, who actually know the real cost of using their gift and decide not to, you’re a bitch.

To all those women who pretend to pity you because you’re single: envy is a capital sin, you’re all going to hell.

And to the “founder” of this brilliant idea and all your followers….I am coming for you!!!!!! 

"My Morning Fail as an Understanding Wife" or "Attack of Kryptonite Dog Poo"

Last Wednesday I was having an amazing morning.  Got great sleep, woke up in agood mood, went to the gym, made it to work early.  It was quite amazing.  And then....the hubby calls. One of the dogs had an accident (not the easy to clean up kind) in the guest bedroom on the carpeted floor.  He was hysterical, hollaring and the whole 9 yards. I was empathetic for about 5 minutes as he was freaking out, lamenting how the house smelled like poo and how he "couldn't" clean it up without dying, etc.  I came up with the ingenious solution that he should ask and offer to pay his dad's housekeeper to clean it up.  (His parents live next door)  Then came the 20 questions of how it should be cleaned, with what products, how she should get it off the carpet, etc.  I told him where everything was for her to use.  Then, out of the blue,  starts telling me how I need to leave him notes to feed the dogs because he can't read my mind when I leave at 6am, that the dogs should be left outside when I leave, etc, etc.  Slightly annoyed with these new "instructions" but in adament refusal that he should ruin my great mood, I ask him if there was anything else.  He starts the hollaring all over again about how the dog pooped on the floor, how the house smells awful, etc....so....I happily hung up. 

(If you are married you know this is not the way to help your spouse regain his senses)

He called back furious that I hung up on him and ended the call.  I oddly maintained my great mood.

3 minutes later I get a call saying that he can't find the carpet cleaner, the housekeeper still isn't at his parents house and is Dad already left and he was going to leave everything for me when I get home....in 9 hours.  Lovely.  I finally talked him into leaving the front door open today so I can call his Dad's housekeeper and pay her to come clean up the mess.  

What came out of this....I believe we (women) should organize our partners into an efficient network of "crisis control prevention teams" based on a systematic analysis of our partners strengths and "kryptonites" and activate the team to come "save the day" when a kryptonitic "crisis" hits (poo of any kind, rodent capture and disposal, ect.)... because, as much as we love them, in general, individual men are largely useless in the face of household crises...but a team might just be able to handle it.  (We could even make them were sexy uniforms ;-)

(To the hubby's credit he did soon regain his senses and organized the clean up the toxic poo ;-)

Happy 4th!

Yeah... Happy 4th... Despite how crappy your 4th of July was, I bet it was better than mine!

It all started the night before. I simply did not sleep. The husband is sick, and only God knows how much a pain in the ass he is when he is sick.Wait! only God and all the other wives of the universe know how much a pain in the ass sick husbands are! He kept waking up, coughing and claiming he was about to die (of a mild cold!) I gently offered a hot herbal tea with ginger and honey, he accepted it with his sad puppy face. So went to the kitchen in the middle of the night (it is winter here, so make it in the middle of a cold night!) and came back to bed to find out that he was back to sleep (not dead for sure, just back to sleep)... With every new cough episode we both woke up, the 3-month old baby who typically sleeps through the night woke up as well, and to top it, the 3-year old woke up at 4 screaming because he had wetted his bed... Awesome right? The fact that I had to shower him and soak the clothes and clean the mattres that EARLY are nothing compared to the fact that he never got back to sleep. Nope. He just stayed there asking why he could not get up and why it took so long for the morning to come. The agonizing husband was clever enough to get up, take a shower and head to the office at 5. He knew the office would be a much more comfortable place than our bed with 2 very awake kids on it!

After the hard night and considering I had a meeting on the afternoon I decided to get myself a treat and have my hair washed at the salon (if you saw my hair you would know why this is faster and cheaper than doing it myself!). So, OK. I did not sleep but I got some "me" time. Not bad...  My hair was half blow dried when the cell rang. It was from  home. The 3-year old had stuffed a good amount of play doh into his ear. Nice, ah? So I thanked  and paid the lady who ran after me with a brush across the salon and ran home. I called the doctor (I am fundamentalist of the "What to Expect" series DO´s and DON´Ts so I did not try to remove the dough myself). It took long enough for the doctor to come that the dought found its way out on its own... The doctor just came  to confirm no serius damaged had been caused.So, OK. That was solved.

After the incident I realized that I really needed to rush if I wanted to get on time to a radio interview. So I ate lunch on the go and left. When I was 5 blocks away from the radio, one tire exploded. Are you fucking  kidding me? A tire explostion in the middle of the city? Now? It was not a huge explosion and I was almost parked when it happened and I was half a block away from a repair center, but seriously... I did not need the extra pressure!

The interview went well, the tire got repaired and I came home exhausted to find out that the new puppy (the one I so hard refused to have because I really cannot cope with three kids under age 4 AND a puppy) ate a plastic bag... The puppy actually "stole" candy from one of the kids and ate it all, including the bag... One vet said we needed to take her immediatly to the clinic so she could be monitored.  Another option included a special diet and monitor her at home. Guess what I did? I just needed the dog to shit the plastic with fireworks sounds to have my 4th of July celebration completed!

Pinterest

Ok....I have a confession.  I, like many people, am addicted to Pinterest.  Despite my boards with hundreds of recipes (of which I've made 3 that have turned out), quotes, workouts and crafty stuff I'll never do, I probably spend 1/3 of my online leisure time on that damned website.  Pinterest freaks me out too, though. You know more about those Pinning via Pinterest than you do via Facebook!  You can look your homepage and know exactly who is going on a diet, who is remodeling their home, who has a messy house, who wants a firmer stomach, who is pregnant, plans to get pregnant or trying to get pregnant, who's planning a party (and its theme), going on vacation, etc.   Freaky!

My most resent peeve is the house remodeling pins.  Partially because we are looking to build and partially because people don't think.  Have you seen some of the stuff that people post as "sooo cool", "I'd love that!", or "my dream house"?  Growing up in the US and being responsible for the cleaning the majority of my adult life (not that I was ever any good at it), I see some of these things and think...really, you'd love that???  How the hell are you going to clean the 100 shoe cubbies that you have just installed in your "dream closet" or how will that vintage wooden magazine rack that you love hung next to the toilet in your "dream bathroom" stand against little boy (and, lets face it...and big boy) pee.  Who gets to clean that gem?

Right in line with home remodeling are all the "organization" pins that people post....which are basically made up of little cubbies, shelfs that fit everything just perfectly.  My organizational strategy?  Drawers and things that shut....mostly to contain what is shoved inside.  As long as I know what room it is in, I can access it.  Start putting stuff in little plastics, cubbies, color coordination....WTF?  You have to, like, maintain that!  If you take something out, you have to put it in the exact same place in the exact same little cubby or you will never find it again.  And you can't buy more stuff...once you build those crazy little cubby holes and shelves, you're stuck with it.  Buy something new and it better be the exact same/shape/size as something else b/c that is where it will have to go.  If not, your organizational scheme is ruined.

You know what you can do with drawers?  Shove more stuff inside and shut them.  Done!

People who are that organized freak me out....especially because you know you have to clean all those little damn cubbies with toothbrushes and stuff because if you are that organized, you probably have some OCD cleanliness issues going on too.

I'll stick to my drawers.

Planning Skills, Hair Removal and Human Rights

One of my high school friends was getting married in town. I was excited for her, and for the fact of seeing the old gang again. The hubby was on a trip abroad, so I was going by myself.  I made all the arrangements well ahead: my toddler boy was staying with my mom so I could do something about my hair, and then he would spend the night with the grandparents that live nearby. All was perfect. I could not help but thinking “What a good planner I am”.

So, it is Saturday afternoon, and I even manage to take a short nap. The wedding is at 6, so I head to the hair stylist at 4. Nothing fancy, but my hair looks decent again. I head home, play with my boy and then I realize it is time to get dressed or I will not make it on time. Damn! I am a bit late already. I will wear a short dress I love (I might not say it looks like a million bucks, but it certainly looks more than the 8-dollar bargain from the Target clearance rack it was!). I put my make up on and select the jewelry (not that it is hard to select among two rings and a necklace). I look for my panties and suddenly... Oh no... I had totally forgotten to remove the hair from my legs!

First thought: “Wear a long dress!” Second thought: “You are pregnant silly girl; there is only this dress for you to wear!”

 The usual options of either waxing or going for the electric hair remover were not good plans due to time constraints. And then the, thought: “Why, why do I always have to run to get to places on time? Why, if I really plan ahead?” OK, no more regrets, I need an action plan.

I never (OK, I rarely) use razors, but well, I will use the hubby´s razor... That is a good one. And it has saved me more than once (shh, don´t tell him). Oh no, the razor is in god damn China, with the hubby... I need to think... Fast… There has to be a razor somewhere.

My little boy cries for mommy, which freaks me out... My mom tells me not to worry... The thought of never being able to actually enjoy a night out again hits back... OK, back to the search.

Awesome! I find a razor abandoned in a drawer... It looks weird. Sure it does: it is old, it is used, and it is probably there because it doesn´t work anymore. Oh well, maybe it does not work for the pretty face of the hubby, but I am a real man, I can live with a less than brand new, fancy razor. All I need now is foam.

Oh, wait. I don´t have foam (I don´t shave, remember?) I will use the hubby´s...Not an option either, as it is in China with the hubby and the razor. Shit! OK then, it will be soap.... No, I will rather do it on dry skin, it will be faster... Great! Back on track again!

Really? Old razor + dry skin + woman in a hurry are not a good combination. In less than a minute I end with my legs looking as if a wild cat had attacked them with fury (not to mention that part of the hair was still there). I watch the clock; I really need to go. I grab moisturizing lotion, apply it to my legs, shave again, and now the legs are hair-free, but they look pink (as in blood + lotion pink). Never mind, I am done. It hurts, it burns, it itches, it bleeds, but I am done. I remove the excess blood and lotion, put the panties on, put the dress on and grab the purse... When I dare to look down, my legs are full of many little (and some not so little) red dots... Yes, that is blood... I remove them with a towel, it works. Thank you God for cheap panties.

I kiss the baby good bye, thank the mom, and rush to the car. I get to the wedding and it seems I made it there before the bride. Huge success! As I lock the car, I look down again...Damn! The red dots are back... I have no towel at hand here, so I use my (previously wet in saliva) fingers. But the result this time is that blood is spread, not removed. As I do this, my heels get stuck in the grass... and I think: Laser hair removal should be declared a Human Right. (Click here if you agree!)

Note: This is an old e-mail I sent to the other evils almost two years ago. For publication, I just polished it a bit so other than the evils could actually understand what the heck I was talking about. Things have changed a bit since then… More to come in a follow-up post.