T minus 5 days

It's all event, event, event from now on. I'd love to have a "Stress-O-Meter" to attach to myself during this time to see what my reading is - and then the consequent reading Monday after the event. It would be an interesting experiment.

Around now I like to predict what the weekend's issues will be. I am almost always wrong - usually things I think will suck end up being no big deal, and unanticipated things crop up just to chap my hide. There's always something random that annoys the crap out of me during the last week. In 1998 it was renting linens. This year it's finding a replacement yoga teacher for the morning sessions.

My kitchen is done, but the painter guy said to not put anything on the shelves for several days to allow the paint to set. I may however break down and clean up tonight - I've spent a week with my food and dishes and cookware all over the floors of my house, and I'm kind of over it. However, I'm utterly delighted with the results of the kitchen. It's clean and fresh and bright and I just love it. So worth the expense and inconvenience.

So how has it been preparing for my event with a baby? About how I expected. I just need to pace myself, plan ahead, and prepare to be interrupted. I can't dive into those six hour projects and expect to get them done all in one day - I need to break these up over several days. I'm currently in the middle of several of these. They will be wrapping up next week.

How having a baby during the event will go is anyone's guess. I figure he'll be on me much of the time, and there will be lots of breastfeeding during contests. I have been diligently pumping every day to get a supply going, but it may not be enough. Oh well, I figure if he's bottle fed during too much of the weekend it'll cause me to dry up anyway, and that can't be good.

Boys vs Girls

Fascinating "Pregnant in Heels" episode last night, in which Rosie Pope admitted she was having anxiety about having a girl because of her own abandonment by her mother, and her fear of repeating unhealthy patterns.

When I discovered Bumpus was a boy, my family and close friends who know my mother situation all said, "that's much better, you can make a fresh start and not always have to compare your relationship to your daughter to your childhood relationship with your mother," and things of that ilk. And I agreed, as much as I mourned the idea of having someone to dress in cute girlie outfits, play with my barbies, etc.

Not a day goes by that I don't think about what a boy Bumpus is, how he's brought such a male energy to the house, and wondered how differently I treat him or think about him because he's a boy and not a little girl. I think I'd be softer and gentler with him if he were a girl; like most single mothers, I'm sure, I am terrified of emasculating him. I want to make sure he feels secure in his sexuality; I want him to be happy being a boy. I want to do what I already know is impossible - I want him to not miss having a dad.

But so much of how I relate to him is based on the fact that he's male. I call him "buddy". I try not to coddle him. I talk to him in a way I wouldn't if he were my daughter. I worry about raising him as a vegetarian, taking him to musicals, reading him Little House on the Prairie. Am I prepared to teach him a male identity? Do I know how to do that?

I guess the real question should be, what is a male identity? And more importantly, what will male identity be twenty years from now? I'm interested to find out!

Better in concept, pt II

So, I know this is well-travelled territory, but why is it we feel so pressured to make holidays and birthdays "special"? To the point where nothing we do could possibly make the day as special as it's supposed to be?

I had originally intended today to be all about nothing - no work, no going out, just a nice relaxing time with the baby. Well, a couple of well-meaning friends invited me out and I went for it. I should have stayed home.

I was supposed to meet the first friend on a very busy, loud street in front of the vintage store where I worked a few years ago. She was a half hour late. By the time she showed up, poor Bumpus had been woken from a dead sleep by several ear-splitting fire trucks and police sirens and eighteen wheelers that had him in hysterics (and thereby, me too). We had lunch but Bumpus was super fussy and squirmy and drove me nuts - then we went to the vintage store where I had been looking forward to a nice long shop - but it just depressed the hell out of me. The place is dingy and messy and chaotic, a real hoarder's nightmare. The owner was there, and we had a nice chat, but it was hard to forget how badly things had ended there (she was so rude to me one day I up and quit). I bought Bumpus a couple of cute vintage outfits so the day wasn't a total loss. But I opted to save my own vintage shopping for later - much later.

Then I went to dinner with another friend in a loud, chaotic mall. This time Bumpus slept delightfully the whole dinner (praise God) until I was in the changing room at Anthropologie and he started screaming (probably because I kept taking off my shirt without giving him any breassesses). Right now I feel completely wiped out, sick to my stomach from stress and over eating, and over it.

My father sent a happy birthday email; my mother did not. Then again I don't acknowledge my mother's birthday, so I have no reason to think she would, mine. Still I found it interesting how much I thought about this today. It reminded me of the NPR story about the boy whose mother sent him a letter every day he was at summer camp and his father who only wrote him once - and the boy kept and treasured that one letter and didn't keep any of his mother's letters. So for all the years of my childhood when my mother made me a cake and bought me presents and made a nice party for me, no credit, but my absentee father wishes me happy birthday once via e-mail and it's an event. Ain't that some bullshit?

I got an email back from my midwife I'd written some time ago asking if Kaiser would allow a scheduled c-section rather than an induction if I were to develop pre-eclampsia again. She said yes, but an induction a second time would probably go faster than the first, and I really should talk to this therapist who deals with traumatic birth situations. Ha ha ha! I believe that ship has sailed, but I'm glad there is therapy for those circumstances. I guess I'm so not thinking about ever giving birth again right now that her gentle suggestion just sounded funny to me.

Oh, and someone tagged the inside of my garage today. Happy birthday to me. Blurgh.

Last day in my 30s

Just for the record, I have no bad feelings about this. Much like my life insurance policy, I've considered myself 40 for the last six months anyway. And I think 40 suits me. In my world, it's about age and respect and experience anyway, not youth and beauty. So I say, bring it on!

Naturally having had a baby makes a huge difference. Not that I had a deadline or anything, but I know for me how lousy I'd feel turning 40 with no relationship, no kids, meanwhile everyone around me works on their second kid already. It's easy to sit here now and say, "nah, I wouldn't be jealous, I'd be cool with it," but I know darned well that's not true. If not for Bumpus, I'd be kind of sad and kind of lost on the eve of my 40th birthday, instead of feeling good and hopeful and positIve. And that's the truth.

Good mail day

I rarely get anything pleasant in the mail - like most of us, my mail usually consists of useless supermarket circulars, credit card offers, and bills. But today (meaning, Saturday's mail I didn't pick up yesterday) had two awesome things in it. One was an Anthropologie gift card from my sister for my birthday, and best thing ever - my acceptance by Healthy Families!!!

I had a note to myself to call next week if I hadn't heard anything. Instead, after seven months of utter frustration, back and forth, and $1200 in full-price health care premiums, I now have $24 a month coverage for the baby. Fantastic! I swear that extra $300 I've been spending is going straight into savings!

This came at the end of a very annoying back and forth with the hotel where my event is being held, again, in which my rep told me they are pulling all cash and beverage sales - the full service bars for the night dances, and lunch buffets for my customers, leaving them with virtually no way to get lunch during classes or a drink during the dances at night. I'm going to call again tomorrow but for right now I've just about had it and can't deal with talking about this issue anymore. It's just too frustrating. It can wait 'till Monday!

Next week is my last full week before my event. My days are numbered. I am trying to cobble up some enthusiasm to overcome the bummer the hotel management has become; they are going to bring a hail of complaints and unhappy customers on me, that's for sure. Sigh. Good times.

Kitchen and front yard should be finished tomorrow. I have decided once my event is over to pull all the dried out, spindly lavender plants and do all succulents instead. It can only be done a bit at a time due to costs, but I am determined to finally have a nice looking front yard that will stay that way, and I think succulents are the way to go.

House projects galore

So I thought I was nuts to do a kitchen renovation with a baby and two weeks before my event, but it actually hasn't been too bad. I just felt this sudden need to spruce up the house before everyone comes to my birthday party next Sunday. I want to make a good impression, you know?

And as always with these little, inexpensive projects, I can't believe I tolerated the old crap as long as I did. I lived with a greasy, grimy, half painted kitchen for ELEVEN YEARS. Even five years ago when I had tons of home equity and no baby it didn't cross my mind to fix this...? Well, the problem was I had so much home equity I was planning on moving, or doing a major renovation. So a little paint/carpentry upgrade wasn't really in the picture.

It's definitely made me think about how we put up with unacceptable crap in our lives just because we get used to it - in our jobs, our families, our relationships. I've had this god-awful ear splitting buzzer for a doorbell for all these years, so bad that it's startled me into dropping dishes, screaming in fright, etc. Finally got a nice Westminster Abbey doorbell as part of the kitchen upgrade. Umm, why didn't I do this the second I moved in? What the heck?

With the painting of the kitchen I believe I've nearly undone all the mistakes I've made around here. The guy returns to finish up Monday - he has only to paint the ceiling and cabinets and the wainscot over the sink. Then I have to scrape the years of grime off of all my decorative items and put them back and we're done. Just in time for a baby in motion!

Here are some "before" and "during" pics:

Sitting up (kinda)

Although I admit I never really did Tummy Time with Bumpus (as in, not a structured time each day with a special mat, etc), I have lately been putting him on his stomach here and there to see if he'll roll (rarely) and have been holding him in a sitting up position a lot because he seems to like it. Yesterday I busted out the Bumbo for the first time. I can see how I shouldn't leave him unattended in it; it could topple over at any time. But he does seem to enjoy it!

Yesterday was a better day as my interaction with the hotel was minor - limited only to emailing them that their online registration wasn't working AGAIN. I tried to just put them out of my mind. It falls under the "nothing I can do about it" category.

I can't wait for the event to be over. Just thinking about how stressful it's going to be is so upsetting (although, again, so glad to not be sick to my stomach like last year). I hope in the next two weeks I can cobble up some enthusiasm for it, because right now I just want it to go away and leave me alone. Which is normal for right now; happens every year!