Tuesday, February 26, 2008

Spare the rod

I'm sitting here enjoying my latest fresh pineapple, and it's delicious. Sadly, the next pineapple in line isn't ripe enough to eat yet. I placed it in the sunniest window spot to no avail. Anyone know anything about speed-ripening?

Thus far, aside from my expanding bosom and occasional nausea (and conspicuous pineapple consumption, of course), I haven't felt very pregnant for the past 13-14 weeks. But now, quite suddenly, my belly has decided to teach me a thing or two about who is in charge (clue: it is not me). I can feel things stretching and expanding and suddenly I groan whenever I have to bend over and pick something up. Basically, I am finally convinced that someone has taken up residence in my uterus.

Maybe some of you can relate to this: for the longest time I was convinced that somehow six home pregnancy tests, a blood test, and my midwife were all WRONG and that I was not pregnant at all, ho ho ho, silly woman! Even after we heard the heartbeat I convinced myself that it wasn't a baby that we heard, no, it was simply my intestines being quite cranky over that morning's oat bran cereal. I had all sorts of related dreams about things not being what they appeared: I go the cabinet for my oatmeal and find the cardboard container filled with rice pudding, or I get into my car to drive to work and realize that I'm sitting on a park bench, searching fruitlessly for the ignition.

(those are embarrassingly obvious dreams, aren't they? I wish my dreams were obscure and complicated and necessitating long-term psychoanalysis, so I could stretch out on a fainting couch and... oh, let's be honest- I'd take a nap.)

Anyway, this is what my pants be looking like these days, all classy-like:

I'll wager that it won't be long before one of these pops
off and snaps some poor library patron in the eye.

And here's my wee bump, which you probably thought would be enormous based on all the complaining I just did:

For anyone who may be wondering, I took my belly ring out. It happened accidentally, sort of. While we were at my parents' house over Christmas Mike said, "So, I guess you'll have to take the belly ring out at some point." And I stared down at it and thought, huh. I'd had it for a good twelve years and honestly, I had no idea how to remove it. So I started fiddling around with the little ball and, whoops! Off it popped and I took the ring out and that was that.

"Don't worry," my dad reassured me. "You can always get it pierced again." Which was kind of funny to hear coming from my ex-commanding officer military father.

But I doubt I will, which is kind of a shame. I've always had a tiny belly button and from what I remember, it was hard to pierce the first time around. From what experienced mothers tell me, there will be so much more to pierce later on.

Moving on.

So, is it too late to talk about last weekend's activities? On Sunday Mike and I had a lovely lunch at Jaleo and then walked to the Verizon Center for a Caps game. Unfortunately, we ended up sitting directly in front of two screeching little girls who continuously screeched in our ears, kicked the backs of our seats, screeched (did I mention the SCREECHING?), jumped around and nearly dropped an ice cream cone on my head.

Look, I know we were at a hockey game. It's supposed to be loud, yes. I know the girls were excited. But general loudness and loudness aimed directly at your eardrums are two different things. And the seat kicking. God, I'll definitely be adding seat kicking to my list of pet peeves.

We wondered why the parents didn't do anything to settle their kids down, and eventually moved a few rows up to get away from them. And from that vantage point we realized why no action had been taken: they weren't parents, they were slaves! We watched in amazement as the parents continuously ran back and forth to the vendor counters, buying the kids whatever struck their fancies: ice cream, popcorn, mini hockey sticks, you name it. Give me a napkin! I want gum! Make my baby brother disappear! And damned if that infant didn't vanish in a puff of black smoke.

When it was time to leave, those in our section could barely get down the stairs because there were three little boys climbing and flipping all over the railing like it was a jungle gym. I almost came home with a kid-sized Nike imprint on my forehead. Again, the parents seemed like they could care less.

We finally got out to the street and took a breath. I looked at Mike.

"Am I crotchety?" I began. "Is it because I was raised in a military family that behavior like that would have been unimaginable when I was a kid?"

"No." Mike said. "My dad would have killed me dead with his eyes."

We will be perfect parents of a perfect child, I'm sure. And now you should print this out and save it so that you can laugh your ass off the first time our kid has a screaming tantrum in the grocery store and knocks over a towering display of jarred spaghetti sauce.

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Blogger His suzy said...

I know I'm only a step-parent, and not even one for very long, at that, but it always seems to me that kids will through their fits, but shouldn't you at least make an effort to keep them somewhat in line? Especially in public? I can understand when parents get fed up and don't want to bother any more, but save ignoring it for when you're at home, you know?

And I, too, would never have been allowed to get away with behaving like that. And no one in my immediate family was in the military.

8:32 PM  
Blogger Sweet Irene said...

A lot of parents nowadays don't have a handle on their kids anymore and the kids are spoiled and whine and complain loudly and exhibit other obnoxious behavior until they get their way. The parents are blackmailed into doing what the kids want.

No, I am not a crotchety old woman, I am middle aged and see spoiled children who can't for one minute not be amused or fed or somehow be attended to.

Be strict with your child, he/she will make a better grown up.

9:02 PM  
Blogger BabelBabe said...

i will pack up the maternity clothes and get them mailed out to you this week, i promise.

the last time i took primo to a hockey game, he was kicking the seats in front of us - because he's an insanely fidgety child. So when I realized that he truly couldn't help himself, i spent the rest of the game with my hand firmly on his knees, to stop the kicking. that's what a responsible adult does, if necessary. he wasn't being bad, but it had to be unpleasant for the people in front of us - so I took care of it. end of story. what a parent DOES. because, you know, I have it all figured out...

how do you guys feel about Federov??

9:20 PM  
Blogger Lisa said...

But don't you know that all children are special and wonderful and we shouldn't silence their special and wonderful energy or discourage their creative play?


I spend all day with the results of that type of parenthood: a campus full of spoiled brats who don't think that the rules should apply to them or that they need to look any further than the tips of their own noses.

(Apologies if this posts twice: Blogger hates me.)

9:24 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Ha ha, I think the same things. We're always amazed at the behavior of some of our friends'kids and we continuously say, "Our kids will NEVER be ALLOWED to act like that!"

If anything, going to their homes is like insta-birth control.

PS: Do you LOVE supernanny?

5:23 AM  
Blogger Liz said...

suzy- yes- kids won't always be perfect but we should do what we can to reduce their impact on others.

irene- i'll do my best. Check back in 18 years. ;)

babel- can I sit in front of you and Primo next time? And sadly, I'm not the person to ask about hockey- I enjoy watching it, but I know nothing about the players. True confession: with hyperactive kids on the brain, I read 'Federov' and at first thought you must be talking about some new ADHD medication.

Lisa- excellent way of reframing the situation! Next time I will try to appreciate ice cream in my hair as "special and wonderful energy".

Teacher bee- fortunately, we know lots of very well-behaved kids, so that gives us courage. :)

8:32 AM  
Blogger Bearette24 said...

Damn, girl, I should put up a belly shot so you can see a REAL BUMP.

But yes, I know what you mean; I had trouble believing I was pg for a long, long time. I only believe it now because he kicks like a Man
United champion.

That Lucifer book looks interesting, btw.

10:25 AM  
Blogger R U Serious?? said...

Shit?? Relate???? Hell!!! But then again... GUY here!!!

Banging my head on my desk and slurping up pineapple... YUM... Sorry.....! My big thing is 'Very Cherry' Fruit Cocktail!!

But I DID love your comment!!
You kill me!!! I always feel as if I'm dying!

Oh Wait!! My Bathrobe was too tight!! Sorry.........

Damn!!~ back to pounding my head on the keyboard! It's fine!! LOL

I really lost it tonight, but I do know that I like you and am glad we are friends!

If you ever come to California?? Give me a email!! bobbwrs@yahoo.com,

DISNEYLAND is 15 minutes away!!!

5:25 AM  
Blogger R U Serious?? said...

You and Mike are ALWAYS welcome!!!

5:26 AM  
Blogger J.M. Tewkesbury said...

My mother once told me that the hardest part about being a parent was remaining consistent and largely unwavering when it came to discipline and boundaries. I think a lot of parents just give up because it's exhausting to be consistent and committed. Given how frequently we change jobs, cars, cell phones, etc., staying consistent in guiding the behavior of our children is probably insurmountable for many.

That said, though, I'm glad my parents--especially my mother--were consistent. I see so many ill-behaved kids these days, I don't know who to slap. The kid or their parent. Lately, I'm opting for the parent, because they're suppose to be teaching their kids the finer points of social grace. If I'd been at the hockey game, I'd have turned around, looked at those kids and said, "Stop kicking my chair." The second time they did it, I'd have found their parents and asked them to discipline their child. (I've been known to do it before. I have little patience for that crap.)

My two cents....

Pass the pineapple, please.

8:35 AM  
Blogger Liz said...

Bearette- ah, let me enjoy my regular pants for a bit longer. Nature will be making a moutain out of a molehill soon enough!

Serious- thanks for the invite! I used to live in CA, but we were on an air force base (which is its own special kind of highly regimented and monochromatic Disney Land, I suppose...)

Tewkes- if I may relate childrearing to something I DO know a bit about- consistency is the key to a well-behaved dog, too. :D

(i know, i know, dogs are not children... don't get all het up, everyone)

11:42 AM  
Blogger tatiana said...

i don't know if it works with pineapples, but i know to speed up ripening in other fruits, put it in a brown paper bag with a banana.

sadly, this doesn't work with speeding up the maturing process of spoiled brats.

6:05 PM  
Blogger Liz said...

tatiana- LOL!

I'll try the banana trick. Thanks!

1:57 PM  

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