I'm exhausted

So, Gerard's been out of town for a long weekend, giving me newfound respect for single moms. I'm exhausted. It was the grocery store that did me in. Yesterday was fine, actually. And Solomon was a perfect gentlemen for my doctor appointment this morning, where me OB got to meet him. I also got the clearance to be a normal person again and can run and work out and do whatever I want!

I was a little apprehensive about the appointment, since I knew I'd have to leave Solomon in the car seat instead of the carrier due to the nature of the appointment. It was right smack during his most consistently awake period of the day, so I was nervous he'd want to be held and played with instead of trapped to the car seat. He was a little fussy, but much better than I had feared. With this success, I figured all would be well to go to the grocery store, which was a dire need. I figured I'd feed him in the car before starting shopping, but he was asleep by the time we got there and I didn't want to wake him. So I strapped him in the carrier and hoped I could keep him asleep the entire trip.

It's appropriate to say here I'm not a quick grocery shopper. Not only am I indecisive and am known to give serious thought in the middle of the aisle to which cereal I want, but we really did need a lot of food. We had made it through about half of my shopping when he woke up. He was fussy, but mostly just grunting and wiggling. We keep shopping. By the time he starts crying I'm completely committed to the grocery trip. I have too many groceries packed to just bail and leave. I have too many refrigerated foods to stop and feed him. And I have too little coordination and too few hands to attempt to feed him while finalizing my shopping. With no other choice, I pick up only a few more necessities and head to the checkout.

Here is where I realized the grocery store was busy. Busy with stay at home moms feeding families of 27 judging by the size of their carts. So I park myself in a disturbingly long line, which is precisely when Solomon starts to wail. Like, really, really loudly. It was awesome. I was so that girl. It was so bad, in fact, that not one- but 2- employees came over to assist me. One opened up a checking lane just for me, the other unloaded my cart as I did my best to console Solomon. I was exceedingly grateful for the help, but also embarrassed I was causing such a scene to necessitate the fuss.

Solomon screamed the whole way home, instead of sleeping like normal. I wanted to feed him right away, but didn't want to risk my food spoiling either. Of course I couldn't take everything in one trip, which faced me with an unexpected dilemma. After the first load, I wanted nothing more to lay the screaming boo down so I could run back down to the car faster, and carry the bags up, unlock all the apartment doors, etc. easier. But I really didn't know if that was an okay thing to do. Common sense says to me don't leave a baby by himself. But he'd be in the crib, perfectly safe, for 2 minutes. And honestly I wouldn't be any further away from him then someone in a big house (ok, maybe a mansion...) could potentially be away from their baby. So does anyone have any thoughts? In a small apartment building, is it okay to leave a baby in a safe place for a short period of time to run down to the garage, put the garbage out, get the mail, etc?

Suited Up

Is it just me, or is there something oddly sexy about a man in suit driving a scooter? I like to think they all have accents, also. European.

On the opposite spectrum of sexiness: I saw a man walking on the sidewalk today in a suit wearing...  running shoes. Blaringly white, thick-soled, Asics. For real. It's bad enough when women do this- although I have more leniency for some flip flops or comfy flats while walking a commute instead of pumps, which are a bit more discreet. But I just really don't see the need for bright white running shoes. How far are you really walking that a pair of loafers won't suffice?? And men just don't have the same excuse of high heels, nor do they have the convenient purse factor. Suck it up dude. No one feels sorry for you or your feet. 

Taking Out the Shades of Gray

I know this is a confusing topic, so let me spell this out for any curious bystanders. 

You know how it's not socially appropriate to comment on someone's size/weight/eating habits, or touch their stomach?

That rule doesn't actually change just because someone is pregnant. Furthermore, the less I know you, the less I want to hear your ideas on how much my belly should or shouldn't have grown by now. Unless you want to tell me how terribly cute I am, I don't want to hear it. 

Thankfully I'm not actually talking to any of you reading this, but to strangers and distant colleagues who are under the misguided impression that thier opinion on my weight is vaulable or interesting information to me, or perhaps that I will even eat or exercise differently to appease them. Ugh.

Gifts Not to Buy Me

So, um, in case you were curious, I don't need:

chewable necklaces

pregnancy cast kit

a visor to make sure water never goes on my son's face

this thing

a cd brutally murdering good songs

All joking aside however, I really do think there is a need in my life for these shoes.

Thanks.

I can't decide

Leggings. 

I feel like the trend should have died out years ago, but I still see them clinging to life. I can't figure out if the trend is still alive and should be respectably embraced, or if their last ditch effort at life should not be encouraged. Thoughts?

Copy This

What kind of Kinkos isn't open on Sundays?? Where I come from, Kinkos is 24 hours, every day.

And I come from Snellville, people. Snellville. Come on...

Memo

If you are taking a 5-hour red eye, do not be the only jackass on the plane who keeps their light on. Seriously, your book is not that interesting you have to read it at 3am. But most importantly, if you do decide to be this jackass- do not sit next to me! Can't you tell I'm pregnant and tired and cranky and don't appreciate the spot light?

On another note, if you are taking the 5-hour red eye and can steal, kill or bribe your way into an exit row seat- Worth. It. Especially if you are flying with the apparent greatness that is US Airways. Seriously, usually exit rows give you just enough extra inches so that I can comfortably cross and uncross my legs without assistance from my hands. But oh noo. Not US Airways. I'm not sure if they are particularly concerned with their XL passengers navigating easily through the exit rows or what- but we seriously had like 4 feet of leg room. I could outstretch my legs completely- while slouching- and have a lot of space to spare. I did this- a lot. Mostly just to show off. I'm guessing the leg room in the other rows were not so generous- judging by how many times the back of my seat was kicked. 

Milk

If you haven't gone to see Milk yet, you need to see it immediately. The entire movie I was simultaneously inspired by Harvey Milk's story and determination, and also sickened and embarassed that the gay rights movement is all but nonexistent in public education today, at least when and where I was in school.  

Please do yourself a favor and go see it. I only wish it had come out before November 4. I can't help but think maybe it might've helped to sway some people to have an open heart and mind on prop 8.

Pro-America

So, for the first time in the history of the world, I am more looking forward to Election day than Halloween. Don't get me wrong- I'm really excited about Halloween, but I'm even more excited about sending Sarah Palin and Joe the Plumber back into obscurity. I'm embarrassed to admit that yes, I did used to identify myself as a Republican, which I blame entirely on my naivety, ignorance, and red-state upbringing. But now I'm really having trouble understanding and respecting a Conservative viewpoint. I really just am. And I say this knowing that some of my dearest friends back in Georgia are Republicans, but I just don't understand it. I don't understand why, in the midst of this economic crisis, that people want to foster and encourage the continued separation of classes. I don't understand why people don't think that health care should be affordable and available, or that we shouldn't give money to the public education system that continues to go to shit. I don't understand why people think someone "just like them" should be second in commmand in the Oval Office- and second in command to a 72 year old cancer survivor at that. 

Our recent trip to Lake Tahoe gave Gerard and I interesting insight to the political campaigning that has apparently been going on in battle ground states. Here in California, we don't really see a lot of the presidential commercials going around, because God forbid we elect another republican after the hell the Governator is putting us through. But, Nevada on the other hand, allots approximately 75% of their advertising capacity to the campaign. I'm telling you- it is nonstop. Here in Cali- most of our efforts are focused on numerous propositions we are to vote on on November 4- mainly Prop 8.

I'm fairly certain no matter where you live you've heard of Prop 8- but if you've been living in a hole- Proposition 8 seeks to amend our state constitution and discontinue to allow same-sex marriages to be granted.

So, not even touching on the $150,000 of campaign money spent to make Sarah look all nice and pretty, people are spending millions and millions of dollars to campaign for Prop 8. Teachers are getting laid off because our education system has no money, but millions of dollars are sent in to ensure that two committed, loving individuals cannot receive the same constitutional rights as other couples. Why the fuck do you care so much?? They are not hurting you! They are not taking away your rights! They aren't doing a damn thing to change or alter your lives in any way whatsoever- so why would you focus so much money, hatred and discrimination against them? I'm so upset about this I can't even focus my energy. You are against homosexuality. I get it. But we have this dandy little thing in this nation called separation of church and state. And your church might not like it. But mine is okay with it. So who has the trump card?

So you say marriage is a sacred, church-filled sacrament. So what about the people who get married in their backyard? On the beach? In city hall? What about the atheists that get married? Pagans? Hindus? Last I checked you weren't trying to negate their ability to marry. And, last I checked, marriage was not limited to being recognized by the church. It changes the way you file taxes, purchase property, make hospital visitations, all sorts of undogmatic fashions. You say that marriage and sex is in order to procreate. What about the couple unable or unwilling to have children? What about the gay couples wishing to adopt children? What with them? You say you don't want gay marriage being taught in schools. First of all, marriage isn't taught in schools in any regard. Second of all, who the hell cares? Kids are taught about wars, assassinations, violence, racial segregation, the whole shebang. But instead of being worried about our young impressionable kids becoming bigoted murderers, we're worried about them kissing another boy?! Eek! I hear Massachusetts is just running rampant with pre-adolescent homosexuals. What will we do? Or are we worried about them being open-minded, tolerable individuals? Yikes! Spare me!

Please, please vote on Nov 4. And while you're at it, vote Obama. And if you really love me, move to California so you can vote no on Prop 8 because it is ridiculous above words.

Busing It

Today I had to sit through a mind-numbingly boring, all-day presentation on how to use a computer program for work. Afterwards, I was walking to the bus stop cursing the inefficient waste of time that it was when I saw a homeless man get excited over the melted remnants of a mostly-eaten Mc Donalds sundae that he had just dug out of a public trash can. There were no more than 5 bites left in the plastic cup, and, as the nature of the milkshake, the original customer had undoubtedly stuck a plastic spoon inside the ice cream directly after swirling it around hi mouth several times.  Not to mention what other trash and germs had found their way into that melted mess while sitting in the trash, but it was enough to put a smile on this man's face. Made me feel pretty bad being annoyed about my training session.

In an effort to be equally sappy, I'll comment on bus ride that followed. I don't like driving, and I don't really enjoy riding the bus either. I'm pretty sure that the happiness I feel from avoiding the stress, time and money of finding parking in the city is equally countered by the inconvenience and smell of the bus, the fear I have as we're crawling up steep hills that we might not make it, and the fact that going up these hills makes the person to my right unabashedly lean all over me. I'm pretty sure I didn't save any time avoiding parking when I got off the wrong bus stop and had to blindly guess how to get where I was going- all while huffing and puffing up the hills. But for a moment, I looked around at the crowded bus- at all the people who were going the same direction at the same time, and felt really happy that we were that many less cars on the road. And that is nice.

I have about 30 minutes before my art class tonight, and I'm very torn as to if I should shower or nap before heading out. 

Whine and Cheese

So, last year I discovered reruns of the television show Everybody Loves Raymond. I never saw the show during it's original airing, but I imagine it must've been somewhat popular to have run as long as it did. It is touted as a comedy, but I must say I find it scary and depressing. Is nobody else tormented by the complacent, bickering, lackluster lives this couple faces after they are locked down in marriage and children? I feel nothing but the opposite of comfortable and relaxed while watching this show. 

After some fun, horrible, and questionable roommate experiences (in no particular order for those of you I still like!), I enjoyed the liberating experience of living by myself for two years more than I can express. It is a deal-breaker must-do before moving in with someone or getting married. Must-do. I gained confidence, independence, and self-realization that you just can't do under someone else's microscope. If you want to take it one step further on the bravery level- move to a city where you don't know a soul. I've done it several times, and am continually shaping the way I see myself as I respond to various situations. But I digress...

Upon preparation plans on (eek) moving in with a boy, I was naively optimistic and at peace with the decision. I went through a brief, late blooming apprehension (why can't we have two of everything? I love my couch/vacuum/set of pots), and a few moments of frustration (I can't storm out in a huff without bringing enough money for a hotel...), but all and all I'm at such peace and comfort with living with Gerard that I almost feel guilty for it being so easy. I have zip-o experience at maintaining a successful relationship, and somehow we just make it work (yes, I just finished watching Project Runway- yay Leanne and Jerrel!!). But with my comfort comes fear of complacency. And with my love and respect come fears of taking what we have for granted. And with my devotion comes a sometimes paralyzing fear of what would happen if I were to ever lose Gerard. But all in all, with my spontaneous speckles of fear come such a karmic, zen feeling of doing what I am supposed to be doing with my life that I can't imagine being anywhere else.  Of knowing that I could never be more true to myself than when I'm with him. And of knowing I could never support myself the way he supports me.

I learned at an early age by my enabling elementary school teachers that I was an exception to the rules. I could cry my way out of a late homework deduction because I was "gifted," and I could sneak my way out of trouble because I was a good kid. So I have no problem being narcissistic enough to believe that we won't succumb to the contrite and petty nature of married couples portrayed by the media. Because we're super. And he's cute.

This post has brought to you by my friend Insomnia, and my better friend, Wine.

Tick Tock

I really don't understand why some people set their clocks faster than the real time. I've seen this "trick" preformed on alarm clocks, watches, cars, anything that tells time. Now, what purpose does this do exactly? You know exactly how many minutes ahead these faux-times are. I ride in the car and say it's 5 o'clock and you calmly say "No, no, that's 7 and a half minutes fast. We're fine."
Why?

Why?

Do you like the subtraction practice from time to time?

Is it fun to stress out the punctual passengers that may be riding in your car?

Is it because you think you might eventually forget that it is seven and a half minutes fast, and and will be pleasantly surprised one day when you are indeed on time and not seven and a half minutes late?

Teach me, please.

This is almost- but not quite- as strange as the people who live in California and set their alarm clocks to Eastern Time Zone. I use the plural form in jest, as I know there is actually only one person who is wonderful enough to do this. If you haven't guessed yet, I'm so charmed as to get to live with this person. But don't worry- it's not confusing at all when you wake up in the middle of the night- don't have your contacts in, and you're trying to squint out recognizable numbers from two conflicting alarm clocks sitting side by side. To believe the green or red numbers? Whew, good thing that's easy...

My advice? Let's all just set our clocks to Verizon time- for your current time zone- and call it a day.

Do- do you have a first aid kit handy?

For those of you not impressed with my Sugarland appreciation, perhaps you'll enjoy my other current obsession: Danity Kane's Damaged. I have surprisingly little embarassment associated with my love for this song. Though, I am pretty sure Kota was ducking and hiding her face when I was belting it out and dancing to it while in the car earlier today.

I'm prety sure you should...

listen to Sugarland's Stay. On repeat.

Right now.