Belly and The Bug: December 2009

yawn

It's New Year's Eve and I wish that I was going to tell you about the exciting plans that Dude and I have tonight - something involving having a babysitter, getting dolled up and going out to act like fools. Alas. That is not the case. Our big plans? Take-out after the girls are asleep. Dude mentioned something about having a quiet evening by the fire. I don't know how to say this any more clearly - NO. I will not spend my evening reading on the love seat on one side of the fire while he lies on the other love seat reading his book. Do you remember that scene from Singles where they're sitting at the table reading the paper and Kyra Sedgwick is bored out of her skull? That's what that sounds like to me. I will not allow it. I'm thinking maybe I'll get all dressed up, "spin" some tunes, open wine and have a dance party. He can join me if he wants. Otherwise, I'll act the fool by myself. Someone has to.

Part 1: Christmas recap and Part 2: The Horror

Part 1: Christmas recap

Hi Friends. We got home from our whirlwind Christmas vacation just a few short hours ago. We went to my sister Molly's house just outside of Little Rock, AR and a super swell time was had by all. For reals. It was beyond wonderful to see that side of my family and to show off Belly and the Bug. Plus I got to meet my little niece who was named after me (I can hardly believe she's 18 months old and this was the first time I'd met her in-person). We had tons of good food and drink (a constant with my family), lots of game-playing (another constant), and overall Christmas Happiness. Top that off with no drama and it was pretty damn near perfect! Except for one thing...

Part 2: The Horror

Erika and Molly and I thought it would be fun to leave the kids with the husbands and have a "sisters afternoon" - go to a movie, get pedicures, maybe do a little shopping. Molly and I both have little kids, so these particular activities are sadly lacking from our lives on any sort of consistent basis. We saw "Up in the Air" and I loved it. I laughed. I thought I might cry at one point. I truly loved it. Then we went for pedicures. I picked out a lovely shade of almost-black-purple and was all set. As they were leading me to the chair, I asked if I could also get a brow wax (this place was a salon and they clearly offered waxing services). The woman said yes and suggested she do that first. Great! I followed her into the waxing room. I told her "not too thin, please" and put my head back on the pillow. She leaned over me. "Hmmm. Do you want a lip wax, too?" Uh, okay. Sure. Clearly there was a need. And with that, she went to work. It seemed like she was taking a lot off the eyebrows but you know what? It feels like that EVERY time I get waxed. Then she did the upper lip. Then she went back to the brows to do some tweezing. She didn't put anything on the upper lip to calm it down while she did that and I could feel the region tingling in a not-good way. Finally she put some calming oil everywhere and gave me a hand mirror. What Had She Done To My Face? No really. What the friggledy-frug did she think "not too thin, please" meant?!?! Had she gone any thinner, my brows would've been completely gone and needed to be drawn on. I was stunned, horrified, at a total loss for words. We walked out to the pedicure chairs where I freaked as quietly as possible - texting Erika in the chair next to me and trying not to cry. Erika assured me that yes, they were thin but not weird-looking. She had to say that, though. It was pretty obvious that I was on the verge of losing my shit. I could not enjoy my pedicure. It was finally all over and we left. Erika informed me that she had been cut by the cuticle scissors and the nail tech had tried to hide it by putting her foot in the water. What?! Molly came out unscathed but will not be returning to that particular establishment. UGH.

That was yesterday. Today I think the eyebrows are way too thin but no, not totally bizarre - just strange on MY face. I look forward to them growing back in. Additionally, my upper lip has decided to take 24 hours to totally break out. Yep - Dude actually asked me when we got home this evening if I was having an allergic reaction to something. And when I said that it was just further trauma from the waxing yesterday, he asked incredulously, "You got your lip waxed?! I didn't know you did that!" He looked at me like I had just told him I have a giant walrus mustache that I shave every day. This just keeps getting better and better...

Not for the faint of heart (or those who are pregnant)

Some dear friends of mine in LA, Ashley and Josh, just had twins. They'd been asking questions and I'd been offering my "sage" advice ever since they found out their dilemma/wonderful news. When she was 29 weeks along, Ashley went into labor. Modern medicine was able to almost stop it and she was put on strict bed rest. When I say "almost" stop it, I mean she wasn't dilating and stuff, but she still had regular contractions and was EXTREMELY uncomfortable. Josh was as amazing as humanly possible, looking after Ashley's every want and need. What an adorable couple! At 36.5 weeks (yes, the poor dear kept those babes in the oven for another 7.5 weeks of slow, slow LABOR), she was actually induced because she was having quite a bit of swelling in one leg. Then Ashley and Josh essentially went dark, not to resurface for two weeks with the whole story. We (their friends) knew that the babies had been born, but no names, no details, no joyous pictures were shared. I was beyond worried. After several days, Josh posted something on Facebook basically saying that the babies were wonderful and that they'd get back to us soon. As I said, it took two weeks. Their story is unbelievable. It is heart-wrenching and joyous and terrifying and WILL MAKE YOU CRY. For those of you who are pregnant and are not heeding my warning to stay away from this story (you know who you are), rest assured that all's well that ends well and it does end well. But FUCK, man. What a story.

The Story of Christmas, by Belly and The Bug

"Baby Jesus on porch wearin' washcloth. Baby Jesus daddy [is] Santa Claus. Santa Claus sleigh jingle bells; ding-a-ling-a-ling! Santa Claus bringin' pretzels. Thanks, Santa Claus!"

Ya gotta love it.

Just two quick things that make me smile

We went out for sushi tonight and Dude asked the girls if they wanted "edamame beans." The Bug said, "Huggle Mommy beans? Yes! Want Huggle Mommy beans!"

While holding Belly, she put her hands on my cheeks and said, "Belly [is a] sweetheart. Mommy sweetheart, too."

Black Tuesday and Pure Hell Wednesday

These last two days have... kinda sucked. Yesterday was Black Tuesday - the day I turned 35. I cannot for the life of me tell you why it hit me so hard, but it did. It just did. And yet, there's nothing I can do about it.

Today was Pure Hell Wednesday, or the Day Belly Had Surgery on Both of Her Eyes. That little darling was so brave. I wasn't. We went to Baby Circus this morning as usual, but then we essentially dropped Buggy off at home where Nanni was waiting and we whisked Belly off to the hospital. Dude and I cuddled her in the waiting room until they called us back. We put her in this tiny hospital gown but got to leave her sparkly penguin socks on. The nurse gave her a little oral sedative so that she'd get loopy before being taken away from us (and thus she wouldn't care). She got a little silly, but nothing like what we'd been told would happen. I wish to hell that we'd insisted they wait longer to take her back. When we were told it was time, I carried her over to the door marked "Surgical Staff Only" and the anesthesiologist took her from me. Belly didn't cry but looked at me like, "Mommy? What's happening?" And they walked away. The doors closed. THAT'S when I started crying. Less than a minute later, someone walked through those doors and I could hear Belly screaming from somewhere around the corner. I wanted to throw up. Dude and I went to the waiting room.

Belly was taken back at 12:10p and we were told that it would take an hour and forty-five minutes. Starting at 1:45p, my head whipped around every time the door opened. 2p came and went. WHY WAS IT TAKING SO LONG? At 2:15p, the surgeon finally came out. He said that everything had gone well but then Belly had vomited at the end. The anesthesiologist was still with her and trying to make sure that she hadn't aspirated anything when that happened. They were giving her extra oxygen. We were basically told we shouldn't panic but that there was a possibility that she'd need a chest x-ray and be admitted to the hospital overnight. WHAT?! Oh, and we couldn't see her yet. Ten minutes later the anesthesiologist came to talk to us - Belly was fine. They'd let us back "soon." Dude and I essentially paced around until they called our names just before 3p.

Belly was sitting up and starting to look for us. I scooped her up. She fell back asleep on me. God, I love that little girl. They let us take her home about an hour later. She puked a bunch tonight as the anesthesia continued to wear off and her brain got used to what her new eyes are seeing. She's sleeping now. I'm hopeful tomorrow will be dry.

I should also mention that Buggy was phenomenal today. She spent six hours with Nanni - by far the longest she'd been away from the rest of her family - and she did just great! God, I love that little girl, too.

Dandified

Sometimes I say the "wrong" thing. Sometimes I take it too far. Last night, I had So Much Fun. Dude and I went to see the Dandy Warhols at the Wonder Ballroom and they were just, well, totally kickass. They were tight, they rocked, they played for two hours. I'd never seen them live before and it was easily as good as, if not better than, what I expected. Except for one thing. And this one thing is something that I just don't get. Courtney Taylor is the lead singer and he is pretty - very, very pretty. The man is tall, has great bone structure and a pouty mouth. He looks like a star. But when he's rocking out on stage, all sweaty and playing his guitar, he does that thing. He makes orgasm face. WHY?!?! Why do some guys do that when they're playing guitar? It's not something that I want to see. I want there to be some mystery. It's like I know what it would look like to have sex with him, except it seems that it was only good for him (I certainly wasn't making bizarre faces for two hours) and now he wants me to go get him some juice or something because he's a rock star and can't be bothered to get it himself. And I guess sometimes I forget that Dude is more than my best friend because I said something along those same lines to him last night when we were driving home from the show. I didn't think about what I'd said until it was too late. Courtney Taylor having sex with his wife is probably not something Dude wanted to think about. Um. Oops. Sorry, Dude. It slipped out. I love you.

Thus continues my pattern of being a good wife, but certainly not the absolute best.

Sometimes I think about having a different life. In reality, I wouldn't trade my husband and children for anything (I truly love them more than the world), but I wish that there was some parallel universe wherein I could live vicariously through myself - being selfish and solo, saying and doing everything I shouldn't say and do in this life - and then I could be perfect here. I wish I could push pause, go be crazy for awhile, and then come back and push play, retaining full memory of my actions but not suffering any ramifications.

Thus continues my freak-out about turning 35. I'm a little bit of a mess.

I feel pretty, oh so pretty

Hi. Sorry I haven't posted in awhile. I've been going through some stuff - nothing major; just having some brain preoccupation. I think I'm snapping out of it, though. Life was often simpler before technology intervened. People from the past stayed in the past, as did old emotions that accompanied them. Sigh.

Let's lighten the mood, shall we? I posted this picture on Facebook today because I thought it was hilarious, but I've since become fairly self-conscious about it:

Caption: "Giant bed-head; it's like the before shot for a shampoo commercial. I'm waiting for the big purple kangaroo to show up."

It's generated a whole slew of comments, including threats to make a FB group dedicated to it. I personally look at it and think, "I wonder if Frida Kahlo wants her eyebrow back..."

Catching up

Someone recently friended me on Facebook whom I haven't seen since 1993ish. We used to be very close. He asked me what he's missed; how I got to who I am now. How do I sum up the past 16 years? He already knows that I'm married and have kids (thanks for covering the easy stuff for me, FB profile). Things like getting my degree and work stuff are not what he's asking about either. He's asking about ME. This is what I said...

You missed many, many things. Everything really. I had my belly button pierced for 12 years. I rode elephants in the Thai jungle. I learned to have restraint (sometimes). I completed a marathon. I cried when the mama bird abandoned her eggs and they had to be buried in the back yard. I have a key to a secret garden in the Hollywood Hills. I learned to walk in stilettos. I drink out of the juice carton and sometimes smoke cigarettes when my husband is out of town, otherwise I'm a great wife.

But I don't think I've changed. I say too much. I sing all the time (often badly). I wear my heart on my sleeve. I get what I want. I cry when I'm happy and when I'm sad. I scare easily. I have high expectations. I'm still me.

I think that's right. I may have missed a few things.

Starting to freak out a little here

I'm turning 35 in two weeks and that just doesn't seem possible. I don't think I look 35. I don't feel 35. I mean, 35 sounds old (sorry gentle readers who have already hit this milestone). I don't think 35 really fits me, you know? Can I exchange it? I'm considering being perpetually 28. Doesn't that sound a little more appropriate? Is that a midlife crisis I see on the horizon? Oh shite.

Belly and The Bug