Tuesday, September 30, 2008

And once again, Aniticipation


Thursday is when we find out the gender of my beautiful, hyper little ninja bebe.

I am ridiculously excited, don’t get me wrong; but I am not fraught about the gender, as I was when it was a bebe Violet in my belly.

I don’t know what I would prefer. There is part of me that would love a little boy, a little man to share that bond I hear so much about. A little Jason to give Mohawks to and to dress in little cargo pants. A little male I can teach to respect women and to do the right thing as often as humanly possible.

But there is the other part that adores mothering a girl. Who wants her daughter to have that connection I have with my sisters. Who has a thrill every morning when her daughter picks out her own crazy outfit and gallops around the house, half punk rock star, half fairy princess. Who is teaching her daughter manners and respect, but also how to stand up for herself and take guff from No One.

So, honestly, with every part of my being, I can say I have no preference. That I will be ecstatic no matter the outcome.

Because, for me, this ultrasound isn’t about whether bebe is a Carli or a David. It is about seeing my miracle, my child who I wanted to much, look like a baby. To see the little heart, the little organs, the little brain. To know all the parts are there, to know everything is fine.

I feel the movement. I feel the twirls, the surprisingly strong kicks to my kidneys and ovaries. I have heard the heartbeat, and have seen the bebe on the monitor 3 times. But that bebe, the one that looked like a bean, a gummy bear, an alien…that bebe is so small, so fragile. I have not been utterly convinced everything is ok. I know this is just my brain doing the anxiety thing it does best…but that doesn’t really make it any better.

I have been waiting for this day for 4 months. The day when I can meet my bebe, when I can spend a copious amount of time staring at odd images on a monitor and ask ridiculous questions about the bebe parts. When I can see for my own eyes that this bebe is not only alive and well, but also thriving and healthy.

Only 48 hours and 27 minutes to go.

Friday, September 19, 2008

Do your good deed for the day.

Cass is donating $9.00 to Breast Cancer research for every comment left on her post.
I doubt any of us has not been affected in some way by breast cancer. My grandmother didn't find hers until it was too late.
Do your good deed and feel good knowing you helped just a little bit.

Thursday, September 18, 2008

...Sweet Home

It is part of our long term plan as a family to move to Florida. Not only to be near my parents, but also because we fell in love with Panama City during our wedding trip.

Most of the time, when I am envisioning our future there, I am going over the things I dislike about Alaska-the cold summers, the long winters, the bad drivers, the isolation.

Jennie asked me today if I would miss it.

I thought of the fall here. The leaves turn gold, and the red berries appear. The air is crisp, no matter if the sky is grey or blue. You layer on clothes because you refuse to take out a heavy coat just quite yet. The weather goes from a steel grey drizzle to a bright blue sky and back again in the span of a day.

I moved here in the fall. I spent my days walking through a patch of trees to get to my classes on campus. There is a smell of wet earth you get only here, a smell that is both putrid and delightful, as if you can smell the earth gaining nutrients. I learned what termination dust, the beginnings of snow on the peaks of the mountains, forebode. I breathed in cool, clean air.

I fell in love with Jason in the fall. We found out we were pregnant in August, and we decided to commit to each other, to find out if we were really the soulmates we suspected we were. We spent hours cooking together, walking together, riding the bus together. We explored each other’s hearts, and liked what we found. We curled up in my tiny apartment with very little real furniture and planned our futures.

Which involved the little babe inside me who was to become Violet. I also spent that fall falling in love with her. Walking through more trees on my way to work, singing to her, talking to her. I was never sure before her whether parenthood was right for me. But this girl, this spark, this little life, I knew this was my purpose. I knew my life was going to be devoted to her from then on.

And this fall. Where I am cozy in my fuzzy shoes and sweaters, planning for this new babe. Where I enjoy many conveniences and luxuries I never would have imagined those 3 falls ago. Where I can look at my husband and daughter proudly, knowing I am doing the best I can for them. Knowing that our hard work and smart living is beginning to pay off as we can see our future plans beginning to come true. This fall, where I take my daughter for walks down safe streets, and her health and vibrancy allows her to run ahead in search of the perfect rock. Where she can recognize the snow on top of her favourite mountain, where she can exclaim over the moose in the parking lot.

I don’t know if I will miss Alaska as an entity. Because all these little things – the stream where we took our first family photo, the park where Violet runs amuck, the sunrises I studied when I was in the throes of depression from my miscarriage – these are things I carry in my heart.

Thursday, September 11, 2008

There's this girl I know...

I met her when she started dating my close friend. Though we have found so many other connections in our lives, I have no idea how we missed each other.

This guy she started dating…he was a rock at a difficult time in my life. We met when we were both theatre students at University. He was cynical and smart, and also much more naturally sophisticated than the rest of us at that time.

He found out he was being deployed to Iraq – mere months before his Reserves service was up - within days of me finding out I was knocked up. We both had these huge, life-altering changes happening at the same time; most of the people around us handled us with kid gloves and operated in a state of shock. We didn’t have that luxury-we had to embrace our different situations. We both became bona fide Adults that year, and I know he helped me through that.

He is one of the few people that remember Violet’s first nickname was Worm. He bought her the Curious George books she knows by heart. He thought up reasons for me to get out of the house after my miscarriage. He is one of the most generous people I have ever known.

And he was single. FOREVER. No girl was right for him, and I was fine with that, because I had yet to meet the girl good enough for him.

But he found her on his own.

Now, I am hard to please when it comes to the significant others of those close to me. Both of my sisters and both of my best girl friends have been subjected to tirades about their men. It takes a near-miracle to get into my good graces if you are dating one of my people.

And there were times that I wasn’t sure of Blaze. Wesley is a special guy, one of the best out there. The kind of man I want my daughter to marry. It takes a certain kind of woman to live up to that.

The kind of woman who volunteers at the women’s shelter. The kind who begs to come over for dinner to fawn over your daughter. The kind who puts aside her own pain to help others.

Blaze has a heartbreaking story. Yet she shines with hope. That glimmer, that shine that you get from her words? That is her in real life.

Monday, September 8, 2008

22 Weeks and 5 Days To Go

"Jason, will you take a pregnant belly picture?"


"Oh, wait, that one has a sweat stain. Take another one."


"No, no, that one looks like I am picking my nose! Take another one."


"Stop taking pictures of Violet and just shoot the dang picture already!"


"Ho-lee. That is one Stepford looking pose. I should have stuck with the sweatstains. I'll just post a picture of Violet."


Embarrassing thing I have eaten this week: Hmmm. Pretty normal stuff this week. Oh, wait, I know! Tortellini in red sauce covered in slaw.

Silly thing I have gotten angry over this week: About 95% of the drivers in Anchorage.

Thing that made me cry this week: My darling, lovely incomparable Miss Ali moved to Montana this week. I know she had to go, but I am one teary mama.

Names we have ‘settled’ on this week: David Carl and Carli Dawn are still the biggies on the table, though Eden and Alison have been tossed around.

Thing that made erupt with laughter this week: ok, so i was making a sandwich with ranch dressing on it, while talking to Jason about our relationship...he was apparently more into it that I was...He said, "well...I love you." and i, thinking of my sandwich to dressing ratio, said, "That isn't enough..." I looked up, and he was STUNNED...when i realized what happened, I so very nearly peed myself with laughter. We were CRYING with mirth.

What is going on with Violet: A frightening obsession with NiHao Kailan. And insisting that new bebe stay in mama's belly FOREVER.

What is going on with the Bebe: Heartbeat of 145, which is what Violet was at nearly the whole time. Stealthy ninja baby swims away very fast, so we didn't get to hear the heartbeat very long. But bebe DID kick Jason's hand last night. Bebe kicks his hand, I STOMP all over his HEART. :)

Friday, September 5, 2008

Pickin' the Bones

‘We speak now of half-baked Alaska. Having been there, I know its residents are loving people. It's just that to them higher education is learning how to get their pants on over their skis. Even the major cities of Juneau and Fairbanks don't do dinner parties. Know why? Because folks can't spell RSVP. Kill me, beat me, I will never mention the Alaskan grandmother who went on the pill because she didn't want more grandchildren.’ -Cindy Adams, the New York Post


I won’t (today) go into my view of politics (besides to say that even if you adore Sarah Palin, JOHN MCCAIN would still be president. Many people around here seem to forget that.) But this Alaska thing has been irritating me.

It is very cool that this woman who pulled herself up to this position came from our state. It is awesome that she is representative of the average working mom. It is amazing that things like this, to go from the PTA to the potential White House can happen, DO happen in Alaska. I am proud to be from a place where that can happen.

But I would like to point out to the national media and the people in the Lower 48 watching it: we are not all rednecks.

We do not all sit in bars, wearing beer t-shirts and Carrharts, watching Governor Sarah on the Magic Box as she gives a speech.

We do not all carry guns and shoot moose, to then make it into stew to take to the hockey game with us.

We do not all have grizzly beards and wear flannel as we pan for gold, as our dog sled sits idly by.

I came to the University here because at the time, they had a cutting-edge, hands on theatre program. There are 3 community theatre companies that have their own houses, and countless troupes that work out of rented spaces.

We host an international conference every year, where hundreds of playwrights come to workshop new plays, make new connections, and show their work, whether it is on a main stage, a workroom, or the fringe festival.

We have the most coffee houses per capita in the nation, most of them serving locally roasted coffee that makes your mouth water. Even the gruffest sourdough can be found most days with a latte or mocha in his hand.

In order to catch the annual performance of The Nutcracker, (yes, the BALLET) you have to reserve your tickets months in advance. Nearly everyone in town has been at least once. You may see more jeans and fleece than couture and Manolos, but these people will accept you no matter how you are dressed.

Every cafĂ© or coffee house you go into is plastered with art created by locals. I don’t go a week without an invitation to a new gallery showing. The weekly street market teems with street performers, and even our panhandlers have a witty side.

And we do have dinner parties. Maybe we are all dressed in jeans instead of cocktail dresses, but the food is exceptional, the discussions intellectual, and the games crazy fun. Our thanksgiving potluck last year included a geologist who is now working on a Geoclimate program at Brown University, a writer who spent a year in Iraq in the reserves, an activist for women’s rights, a fisheries biologist, a nurse who is putting herself through school despite working full time and being a single mom, and a women who works to provide healthcare to children in foster care. And I believe all of them could spell RSVP.

Thursday, September 4, 2008

Life is too short to...

meme'd from Jennie of She Likes Purple, who has the best, most beautiful thoughts. mine simply pale in comparison.

…not watch Spongebob with your daughter.
…take your husband’s love for granted.
…not make that wonton recipe.
…eat food that is not delicious.
…give up sweet tea.
…live in a place you don’t love.
…pass up an opportunity to move to the beach.
…use below-par moisturizer.
…dwell on the mistakes instead of the triumphs.
…worry about your butt in a bathing suit.
…not say ‘I love you,’ Every. Single. Day.
…stop cleaning to give your husband a hug.
…not enjoy grocery shopping.
…to waste one day wearing something you don’t love.
…pretend you care about something you don’t give a fig about. (FOOTBALL. I do not even try to stay awake anymore.)
…not use a sick day to spend time with your daughter.
…not recycle. Seriously, people.
…not cry during a chick flick.
…be too careful with love to have your heart broken.
…make plans you will never keep.
…spend time with people you don’t love.
…not stare at the pretty orchid (mountain, sky, grass, tree) for a while.
…not take that delicious nap.