Venting Prevents Explos-ion
July 21, 2005
So. The third trimester. It's normal to be a little freaked out, no? What with the hormones and all?
Here's a list of things that I am freaking out about. Please tell me if this all sounds about right:
1. The Nursery. Not painted. Not cleared out. Furniture not ordered. I know the kid will be in a bassinet in our room for the first few months and doesn't need a pretty room with a diaper stacker that coordinates with the curtains, but I would VERY MUCH BE HAPPIER IF THE ROOM WAS DONE, DESPITE THE POINTLESSNESS. Please do not argue with me over this point. Am crazy pregnant lady, give me some candy.
Also, we really do need at least a dresser, because all the baby clothes we've received thus far are sitting in shopping bags on the floor and are periodically flung around the room by Ceiba. She has already eaten at least one pom-pom off a family heirloom-type sweater.
2. Diapers. I bought a package of diapers and some wipes at the grocery store this weekend so I could feel like I'd accomplished something.
Now I'm concerned that I only bought the little-bitty newborn-sized diapers and this baby is going to be humungous and I won't have the right-sized diapers and Jason thinks we should do cloth diapers at home, mostly because the man has never changed a diaper in his life and doesn't understand that baby poop is a little different than the twee little turds we pick up after Ceiba and Max but also, he's making me feel guilty for not even considering cloth diapers and now there will be no parks or rainforests or clean air for my child to enjoy because I personally destroyed the planet for my own selfish diaper purposes.
3. Pediatricians. As in, I don't have one picked out yet. No sane person has children in the DC area without packing it in and moving to the suburbs first. Thus, I know no one to get a local recommendation from and am just staring at my insurance provider directory in a state of overwhelmed bafflement. (Readers? Upper-NW-DC? General vicinity of Cleveland Park/Cathedral/American University/Sibley Hospital?)
Yesterday, the other OB at my doctor's practice told me that I really "need to get on that" when I told her I hadn't chosen a pediatrician yet. THANK YOU. AM AWARE. HATE YOU. (Dr. Corky St. Clair was off delivering a baby or something, and I SWEAR TO GOD, I loathe this other doctor SO MUCH that if Dr. Corky is unavailable when I go into labor I am seriously crossing my legs and holding it in before I let her near me.)
4. It comes out of where? I'm getting this creeping realization that I am going to actually have to give birth to this child at some point.
5. Baby showers. I have a work shower and a small friends-and-family shower scheduled over the next few weeks. I'm terrified that no one will come to either because nobody likes me very much. You don't have to buy me anything! Just show up for cake and make me look popular! Please?
6. Work. So much to do. SO. MUCH. If I ignore my Inbox for five minutes there are suddenly 400 million fires to be put out and decisions to be made and then the phone rings and I hide under my desk because I CANNOT HANDLE THIS AND WANT TO LIE DOWN. I'm tired and getting sort of swollen and cranky.
I'm finding myself sort of hoping that my doctor will tell me to go on bedrest for some non-dangerous reason, like because I'm pretty and I deserve to not have to do anything for 10 weeks or so. At yesterday's visit I was kind of gunning for a slightly elevated BP level, or something. But nooo, both Dr. Corky AND Dr. Cold Dead Fish say I'm doing "great" and can work until my due date and ISN'T THAT FAN-FUCKING-TASTIC.
7. Money. Some people, got to have it. Some people, really need it. Dollah dollah bills, y'all.
8. Cancer-causing household toxins. I forgot to vaccuum this weekend and I swear I heard the cat making funny breathing noises in his sleep last night, probably because of all the carpet dust bunnies that are giving him kitty lung cancer.
9. The Money Pit. THE CONTRACTORS ARE NEVER, EVER GOING TO START WORK ON OUR HOUSE. Which means they will never, ever finish, and that spare kitchen table will never, ever get the hell out of my bedroom.
10. My Mom. Well. Yeah. Cancer. SO NOT COOL, UNIVERSE. SO VERY NOT COOL.
11. Katie Holmes. Seriously. Won't somebody help her?
12. Daycare. We're on the waiting list at five places. Of those five, I like three. Of those three, we have a decent shot at getting into one. We just won't know until the end of the year, which means I have many more months of lying awake in a cold sweat while I worry about this issue. Yay!
13. Daycare, Part 2. As I drove in to work this morning, I briefly daydreamed that it was January and I had a small infant in the backseat and was on my way to a daycare center. The mere thought of actually having to drop my gorgeous boy off at daycare reduced me to crazy, crazy tears.
14. Daycare, Part 3, The Revenge. Typing that just now made me think about it again and I cried. Again.
15. Then again, a postcard from my salon telling me that my hairdresser has left for another salon also made me cry. So I may possibly just be a little insane.
16. Am dirty sell-out whore and nobody will read me anymore and people will send me emails about how I used to be cool but am now just some shill who will do anything for a buck.
Yes, the ads. I hate them. I don't want them. I feel very dirty. Hopefully, in a week or two, there will only be ads that have specifically bought space (with my approval) at amalah.com instead of the generic feed of Fabulous Work-From-Home Opportunities and Low-Cost Linux Hosting. And maybe there will be some craptastic swag. But the wall, it has been hit, and this site needs to start pulling its financial weight a little better.
Honestly, I'm just shooting for break-even at this point, and I promise to keep it all to a minimum. Really. Because I do really hate that shit.
However, may I also add that DANNON FRUSION® FRUIT AND YOGURT SMOOTHIE BEVERAGES ARE DELICIOUS AND DELIGHTFUL? ALSO AN EXCELLENT SOURCE OF CALCIUM! TRY ONE TODAY!
P.S. I'm really doing okay. Really. Do not feel the need to rush to offer comfort and/or assvice because hey, I've been a drama queen since I was three years old and now have the banner image to prove it. I'm forging ahead with some promising freelance ideas and new book pitches and have about five hundred solutions to the maternity leave issue to choose from. Am actually feeling quite excited about all the opportunities that quite literally sprang up overnight. I just need to get my fat ass in gear, and now that I've vented and freaked out in a nice, orderly list form, I feel just fine.
P.P.S. Except that I really am concerned about Katie Holmes.