Tag Archives: smoking

I won’t be held responsible

Posted on September 26, 2012 | 21 Comments

I think now would be the perfect time to use my pregnancy powers for evil. I have a lot of rage these days.

Drawing kidnapped from the talented Allie Brosh at Hyperbole and a Half… she’s just so good.

Here are the reasons for the rage:

1. My feet are so swollen that it feels like my skin is going to split open with each step and spray my foot guts all over my house… which needs to be cleaned anyway because I’m so huge now I can’t keep up. How do you explain to the cleaning lady that the reddish brown stains on the floor and wall are the guts of your now hideously deflated foot?

2. I can’t walk my dog and I feel like a horrible fur baby mommy :( She keeps staring me, then at her leash hanging by the door and making the most pathetic whining sounds. It breaks my heart.

3. I cry ALL THE TIME! Mostly over sentimental things these days because most people in my daily life have learned not to tread anywhere near topics that could possibly hurt my feelings. So, knowing this, why do I keep watching those stupid birth shows on TLC?

4. I’m unemployed, pretty much confined to bed, and bored out of my mind. That’s why.

5. You’d think I’d be using this time to be creative or something. After all, I could scrapbook, blog or play the guitar from bed fairly easily. Nope. I have zero creativity these days. It sickens me.

6. I haven’t slept through the night since May.

7. If I don’t eat I starve, if I do I get wretched heartburn and/or throw up. Can’t win.

8. After a week in bed I no longer fit into any of my maternity pants. I was late to an ultrasound yesterday because it took me 15 minutes to squish my fat butt into a pair of pants. I then got to the ultrasound and the receptionist and ultrasound tech thought it would be appropriate to comment on how uncomfortable I looked, and on how tight my pants were. Yeah. Thanks ladies. I hadn’t noticed that I have a 6.5lb fetus trying to simultaneously stomp on my bladder and burst out of my navel, and I really hadn’t noticed that my painted on pants were brining tears to my eyes. I will try to pay closer attention.

9. Trying to educate people on the dangers of second and third hand smoke to an infant is just killing me, not to mention boggling my mind. The nerve and ignorance of people on that topic is killing me slowly. Or quickly… not sure. Haven’t had my blood pressure taken in the last week. If I have to hear one more person tell me that their [insert relative here] smoked with them in the house as they were growing up during the 70s and 80s and hey, they’re just fine, I will probably commit homicide. Firstly, you don’t know that you’re fine. You could be one of those non-smokers that will ultimately develop lung cancer. Will you still feel that you’re fine then? Yes, many people smoke well into their 90s and die of something unrelated, but many more die much younger of smoking related diseases. So, shut up. Shut up shut up shut up. It’s my kid, and if I tell you not to smoke around him or to hold him after you’ve smoked, then you politely acknowledge my wishes or keep the f*ck away from us. I don’t care who you are. You deserve to be relegated to a life full of neon and forced to listen to Journey on repeat.

10. My brain keeps screaming GET THIS BABY OUT OF ME NOW! Then I feel guilty because at 33.5 weeks there is no way his lungs are ready. Then I scold myself on wishing for something that is so bad for my baby and feel like I’m a bad mother already. And then I cry.

I don’t know who drew this, but it suits my purposes, so I’m stealing it.

Why now is a good time for crime:

HORMONES! There are way more of them coursing through my body than I know what to do with. From making me laugh to making me cry to making my pelvis feel like it’s being pulled every which way to making my knees feel like they are going to give out, these babies are just out of control. Oh, and I’m having a son, so all aggression can be blamed on all that lovely testosterone he’s sharing with me. Besides, no one would blame the pregnant lady. She can hide behind that bump for as long as it lasts. Unless she makes stupid internet confessions, like so:

And even then, I’d have this excuse:

“I’m so sorry officer. It wasn’t me. It was the testosterone exposure from carrying a male fetus to term. It’s like those bath salts, except I didn’t choose to take them. I couldn’t control myself. I’m sure you can understand.”

All is forgiven

I won’t be held responsible.

→ 21 Comments

Posted in Parenthood, Parenting, Pregnancy, Random

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , ,

Mom, I borrowed your gaucho pants

Posted on July 31, 2012 | 110 Comments

Someone just died in the McDonald’s drivethru. What’s that? I made that up? Yeah. No one died, but apparently someone ordered the entire restaurant and I regretted not going in on foot even though it was piss pouring rain outside. To make matters worse, the biatch that cut me off going into the drivethru was smoking a cigarette whose foul poison infiltrated my car. What’s that? My boyfriend is a smoker!? Ugh. I know! I said I’d never date a smoker, and truth be told, it really grosses me out… except when he does it. I’m such a hypocrite. And a liar.

Alllllll by myyyysellllffff!

Mom, I borrowed your gaucho pants… but we both know this is a lie. I stole them. I stole them because you took my brothers and abandoned me by going on vacation to British Columbia, only one of my favourite places on the planet, without me. What’s that? I could have gone but opted not to? WHO KEEPS POINTING THESE THINGS OUT TO ME!? Stupid conscience. Also, why is ‘!?’ not an actual button on a keyboard? It should be.

Why do we lie? Lying usually starts from a very young age. It starts with fantastic stories (or in my case, really really dumb self-preservation stories) and then later morphs into this trail of white lies in order to protect the innocent and/or guilty. Like J telling me he’s cutting back the cigarettes. Yeah. Friggen. Right. I’m not blind. Plus, I have the nose of a bloodhound thanks to the creature we planted in my uterus. So there. Don’t lie to ME, mister.

I remember telling my first lie. Okay, correction. The first lie I ever remember telling is this (there were surely many before my memory kicked in):

Back before I went to school with unicorns and leprechauns… I mean, faeries and gnomes… I mean, kids that drew with block crayons (minus the black ones) and wore sloganless t-shirts (don’t get me wrong, I love my Waldorf education. It’s just easy to make fun of), I used to go to school with normal children. You know, the kind that were allowed to have real chocolate rather than carob (dammit mom, we always caught you in that lie. Carob tastes nothing like chocolate!), play with plastic toys and wear Ninja Turtle t-shirts (Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, heroes in a half shell, TURTLE POWER!). Well, there was this girl in my class named Jessica. I don’t remember why I wanted to be her friend, but for some reason I did. She never paid me much mind, but then

Whaaaa?

one day she loaned me her book. I was so excited! You can imagine my surprise when shortly after handing it back to her, the teacher approached me, Jessica in tears by her side, asking me if I’d taken Jessica’s four-leaf clover out of her book. Um, whaaaa? Instead of telling the truth, which was simply that I hadn’t noticed any clover and if it fell out of the book it was certainly an accident, I told the teacher that it was just a regular, run of the mill, nothing special three-leaved clover. In retrospect, I know a simple, “I didn’t realize” and “I’m so sorry” would have sufficed for the teacher, but hey, I was five. Besides, everyone knows she wouldn’t discover the luckiest clover for at least another 10 years.

Sorry. Couldn’t resist. This picture came up in my search for a clover. By no means am I suggesting that Jessica is a stoner. I don’t even know her last name, or really remember what she looked like even back then.

Another lie from that era (1988-1989) was the day I panicked because I broke my friend’s pen. It wasn’t one of those ordinary pens. It was one of those super cool ones that you clicked and the nib switched out for one of a different colour. Understandably, with such a rare piece of technology, my friend was very upset that I broke her pen. In a panic over the potential loss of my friendship, I assured her that it would be alright! She needn’t worry because my mom repaired pens for a living and could certainly tend to her precious writing accoutrement. I can only imagine what my mom thought when I handed her the broken pen and told her this tale. I’m assuming it went like this: 1. Shakes head, 2. Thinks, “My child is such a dumbass.” We went out and bought my friend a new pen that night.

I can’t wait for the doozies baby H will tell.

So yeah. Mom, I borrowed your gaucho pants. Good luck getting them back.

→ 110 Comments

Posted in Childhood, Parenthood, Parenting

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Dear J

Posted on July 22, 2012 | Leave a comment

Lately my most annoying pregnancy symptom (aside from sleepless nights and heartburn) is my overwhelming sensitivity and sentimentality, but I’m gonna go out on a limb here and put a bright side spin on it. As you will know if you read my posts ‘Relationship Misadventures‘ and ‘Bitter Sweet Symphony‘ J and I haven’t had the easiest time adjusting to the pregnancy. This pregnancy happened very early in our young relationship and while it’s been stressful, it’s also been amazing. After all, I can’t say it was an accident since our combined 36 years of education should have taught us where babies come from. Our favourite cute couple (read: vomit inducing) game to play is “No, you wanted to get pregnant.” I officially win by default when, after sharing our why you wanted to get pregnant stories, J ends his with “and I’ve told this lie so often now that I’ve started to believe it”. Way to disqualify yourself darling!

I think I got a bit off track. My purpose here was to put a bright side on my ridiculous sensitivity and sentimentality as of late. Most of the sentimentality centres around being truly madly and deeply in love with the father of my baby. If he were a more sentimental man I’d write him love letters, but since I can’t really even verbalize how I feel about him to him in person due to the fact that his reply would make me feel weird (meaning there would be a lack of reply. Not because he doesn’t love or care about me; I catch glimpses of sweetness, some of which you will read about further on. No, it’s because he’s ‘built Ford tough’ dontcha know and tough guys don’t spew sonnets). Anyways, it’s been building up in my chest this week and I’ve just got to get it out, so now you all can read about it instead. He’ll probably read this eventually too (I know he spies on my blog from time to time) and that’s okay. He doesn’t have to tell me!

Without further adieu, here are 10 things that might appear in a love letter to J, should I ever write one:

1.

2. This city girl secretly loves that you’re a country boy (even though she won’t admit it half the time).

3. The phrase “I love you” gets thrown around a bit too easily in relationships, but you took your time, and I like that. When you first told me you might be falling in love with me it freaked me out. I don’t know why, I think I just didn’t expect it (I was also being a horrible hypocrite and read the text while driving… going into shock and commanding a moving machine do not mix, FYI). Then you kind of got all weird and disappeared for a bit, which scared me even more, because when I really thought about it I was happy you were falling in love with me. Thankfully when you came back it was with full force and that first “I love you”, even though it was a text made out of weird symbols and you were mad at yourself for saying it via text, just swept me off my feet. Seriously. I think the fact that it was a text helped in that department as well. You might be a tough guy, but you’re kind of shy and it’s totally endearing.


4. I actually cried last week when I sent you the pic I drew for baby H’s nursery and you told me the next day that you’d been looking at it on and off to keep you smiling.

5. Sometimes when I indulge in the darker places of my brain that I’d prefer to forget exist, I get super sad that you’re a smoker. I always told myself never to fall in love with a smoker because I knew I’d struggle with it. And it’s not because I think it’s gross, or that I’m frustrated that you said you’d quit and haven’t. It’s not for those reasons. It’s because I love you to pieces and can’t handle the thought of losing out on precious moments with you. I know we could all die tomorrow, but the fact that you’re hurting yourself (someone I love so much) willingly and knowingly breaks my heart. I want to take care of you and I wish you’d do the same (take better care of you!). Sometimes I even feel relieved when you sleep in the middle of the day (even though I get bored and wish you’d wake up!) because I know at least it’s 1 (or 10) less cigarette(s). Crazy thought process, I know, but that’s what love does to you. It makes you crazy one way or the other.

And what if you defy the odds but end up looking like this guy? Hmmm…

6. Thank you for telling and showing me (Note to my readers: that’s right. I went there. We’re having a baby so you shouldn’t be surprised), especially when I’m feeling like such a whale, that you find me sexier now than ever. I admit, I feel the same way about you.

7. My heart still jumps every time your name lights up my phone.

8. I just about died of happiness last night when you were talking to baby H and he was wiggling all around at the sound of your voice (oh dammit. I just teared up again). So many women complain that their partners don’t take any interest in the pregnancy part of the having a baby thing. I think it’s so beautiful that you talk to your son and clearly think about what our lives will be like with him in the world. I know it won’t be easy at times, but I can’t wait.

9. I think it’s obvious. I love your guts. And it doesn’t hurt that the encasement of those guts is mighty fine. You’re sexy and you know it!

10. Even though you might be mad that I gave the Internet a glimpse beneath your tough guy exterior, I know you’ll forgive me. Why? You totally love me too. Yup.

Ok, so this post totally isn’t in keeping with the tone of my blog, but I don’t care. I can’t just write about the things that annoy me, although it’s super fun because it’s just so easy to make them funny. Sometimes a little sentimentality is good for the soul.

Happy Monday friends! (And who ever says that about Mondays!?)

→ Leave a comment

Posted in Pregnancy, Relationships

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , ,