Sunday Confessional

List this under "Things I Never Thought Would Excite Me", but the highlight of my last two days has been good, solid, easy and quick to clean poos.

Correction to "Into The Blanket Fort"

We sit down for dinner last night and the first words out of Subversive Dad's mouth was "Your blog is wrong."

"What did I do this time?"

"We weren't backed into.  She hit us head on."

Of course I missed the finer details.  When I heard the words "We got hit by a car.", they just repeated and amplified in my mind.  You have to excuse a mother for being unable to listen very well under those circumstances.

This doesn't make the story any better.  If anything, it makes the driver that much more careless and the danger my family was in that much more alarming.  It also makes Subversive Dad all the more a superhero.

Zuul never got touched because of his ability to very quickly foresee the danger and move her out of the way, quickly.  And I thought my amazing ability to predict menstruation was all that and a bag of chips.

It doesn't change the fact that this story should never have needed to be written to begin with.  Had the driver remembered to look both ways before attempting to pull out of the driveway, this would be part two of "Boys in Cars" instead, (because something funny did happen to me a few days ago, but excuse me while I forget to laugh for a little while).  So focused was she on oncoming traffic, she didn't even look right for pedestrians once.  And it bothers me that it took a Bruce Lee move to get this dumb-asses attention.

This does nothing for my rage.  Back under the blanket cave we go.

Into The Blanket Fort

First, they're both ok, but Subversive Dad and Zuul got hit by a car Tuesday evening.

By "hit", I mean Subversive Dad was backed into while walking with Zuul-in-stroller.  While he couldn't avoid the hit, his spidey senses were tingling, and he just knew something utterly stupid was about to occur.  So, he took the hit, and managed to push the stroller out of harms way.

I convinced him to take Zuul with him to the polling station, just a few locks up the busy road from us.  It was Provincial Election day here in BC, and we are not ones to take our voting privilleges lightly.  I had made it there and back, unscathed, so thought nothing of it.  I forgot to take into account that he was going during rush hour, with just a little over two hours left until the polls closed.  Combine this with a driver-centric town, with hardly any real sidewalks, and people that seem to have never seen pedestrian in their lives, and we have the perfect storm.

The idiot didn't even look behind her as she tried to back out onto the road.  Who the fuck does that?

Zuul was untouched, just shaken by dad's yelling.  Subversive Dad is nursing a bruised elbow and achy bicep and shoulder, not from how the car backed into him, but from how he drove his elbow into the car in rage, and to get the driver's attention, since yelling, flailing and baby cries failed.  He estimates he delivered about $1,000.00 worth of damage to her vehicle.  Neither of us condone property damage, but never underestimate the instinctive rage of a parent who just managed to save their baby from being run over, taking the hit in the process.

By the time he was done yelling at her, she drove off in tears.  I think she got off really lucky, but not nearly as lucky as I am that I still have my family, all in one piece.  My partner, my hero.  My daughter's hero.  To lose either or both would destroy me.

Since we moved to Langford, I have seen my life flash before my eyes more times than I can count just walking across the streets.  It's a huge problem here.  To say I'm angry and put off by this part of town is putting it mildly.

So, Zuul and I will be hiding under our blanket forts for a while, pretending we're back in our cozy little bubble in Port Moody, where we only had to worry about the gang war and the odd black bear encounter.

My First Born for Negitoro Maki

The trouble with having a baby in the early days of May is that your first Mother's Day becomes a write off.  The combination between recovering from child birth, fatigue, cluster feeding, worry and stress... don't expect much from anyone, especially yourself.  I was already having most of my meals in bed since the 8th of May anyway, so the joy was already gone, and going out with a newborn is just scary and overwhelming for both parents.  I know Subversive Dad was a hot mess as well.

I did have one demand, however, 9-10 months in the making.  I was having some motherfucking sushi.  

Being responsible to a fault, I followed those recommended food restrictions diligently, so my once weekly indulgence of maki rolls and unagi nigiri was avoided.  

This was hell.  Vancouver is a very sushi-centric city.  There's no escaping temptation.  I missed many dates with friends and coworkers because they were going for sushi.  It was so hard to be good for the sake of a healthy fetus.

So, my first Mother's Day, Subversive Dad picked up a tray full of sake maki, unagi nigiri and, my absolute fave, negitoro maki and inhaled it while watching, you guessed it, Game of Thrones; Zuul nested cozily in her swing next to me, in my pj's and bathrobe that I had been my uniform since getting home from the hospital.

I couldn't have asked for a better first Mother's Day.  It was absolute bliss. 

Mmmm...... Maki.  

Amazing! Subversive Mom Keeps Baby Alive Full Year.

A year ago yesterday, my little girl made her earthly debut.  I can't tell you exactly what time though, and, because of that, I'm worried I'm already starting to forget important moments about my pregnancy and her birth.

I can tell you it was after 11:11 a.m..  I had an unplanned C-section... one I really did not want.  So, I was making myself feel better about our decision to evict Zuul, Alien's style, not with the normal justifications of "for our baby's health", but because I figured, if I had to have one, it would be cool if she was born at 11:11.

There's a theme to this.  Let me back up a moment.

August 27th, 2011:  I was a little late by the time my birthday rolled around.  I'm never late.  In fact, I could narrow it down to the hour shark week would commence.  This is not an exaggeration.  We all have hidden talents and mine is the ability to predict menstruation.

Never one to be irresponsible, and also one to obsess to the point of anxiety induced insomnia, by 3:00 a.m. I had decided that I would head over to the pharmacy on the way back from Ghost's morning walk and pick up some pregnancy tests.  I actually managed to hold my morning pee the entire walk, stop at the store and return home, even though the package told me it wasn't necessary.  But, as an obsessively responsible individual, I needed to be sure.  So, it hurt a little when I peed on a stick.

Minutes later it would come up positive.  Guess I won't be drinking.  Happy birthday?

That was a Saturday, so first thing Monday morning, I made my responsible trip to the doctor to confirm pregnancy, but by this time, I already had an app that estimated a due date of May 5th, 2012.  Fuck yeah!  Cinco de Mayo birthday!  I know better and remind myself that it's just an estimate, but my doctor ruined my optimism for my Mexican drunken holiday baby dreams by estimating a May 7th due date.

Haters be hatin'.  I was having either a Jedi baby on May 4th, or my little Mexican Pride baby on May 5th.  My doctor could suck it.

Despite a couple of migraines, my 1st trimester went off without a hitch.  We opted against finding out the sex of the baby just to troll friends and family.  The rest of my pregnancy was easy breezy.

May 4th passes without even a contraction.  There was no Jedi mind tricking to be done here.  Bummer.  May 5th was equally disappointing, despite a couple of days of walking while eating spicy foods and trying to induce orgasm --- my best efforts between extreme irritability and fatigue.  Just as well.  Despite my Mexican lineage, her father's is French, so celebrating Cinco de Mayo is done quietly on my end while Subversive Dad mourns the loss of Puebla.

Nobody knows my geeky fandemoniums like my Twitter peeps, so, come Sunday, May 6th, we were joking about how ironic it would be if I went into labour during Game of Thrones.   I kid you not, my first hard contraction came during the intro theme music.   If I remember correctly, it was even the episode where Davos saw The Red Woman queef a demon.  Mother of Dragon's, this baby will have to wait until the show's over! 

And she did.   My contractions were too far spaced and inconsistent in their intensity to say I was in pre-labour.  Figures.

I got to sleep relatively well.  The contractions came and went, but subsided enough for me to get a good night's rest.  By the time Subversive Dad's alarm went off, they picked up again, but nothing to get excited about.  Still the ever anxious first time dad, he asked if it would be ok to go to work.  I said walk the dog and get ready and we'll play it by ear.  He walked Ghost to our local branch of the giant green-logo coffee company, where the baristas asked if there was a baby yet, when I called his cell to let him know my water broke, and, with it, my first complication.  Meconium.  I'll save you all that don't know what meconium is the google search.  She shit in my uterus.  Not even out yet and she's already grounded.

I won't bore you with the details from here on out, because it's pretty typical.  While my birth preferences leaned towards not having a c-section or an epidural, (Subversive Dad fainted when the needle went in my spine which was just the moment of levity I desperately needed) it had been 24 hours since my water broke and I was refusing to dilate further than 3-5 cm.  Not wanting Zuul to be harmed from swimming in her feces, she came out of the emergency hatch.

The first few months are always tough for new parents, but Zuul really was an easy baby.  And now, in a flash, she's a toddler.

So, Happy Birthday, Zuul! Stay sweet and the sleepless nights and poosplosions will be forgiven, but shitting inside me has scarred our relationship, I'm afraid.

Subversive Mom: Super Ninja Secret Agent

I think my best accomplishment since becoming a mother is my ability to tidy up in our shared room while Zuul naps in her crib.

While it's perfectly normal, and often advisable, to do chores while the toddler naps, everybody underestimates the stealth required to do everything in an unpredictable sleep period, especially right under sleeping child's nose.  Things often go bump, there are outside noises, and sneezes and coughs happen.  The odds are stacked heavily against the clumsy person, which is what I was pre-baby.

What I think I'm like.

But I have overcome those obstacles these 12 months.  I have managed laundry, bed making, sweeping, meal prep, dusting, showering (airplane showers, of course.  You know, under the wings and the cockpit.) and have figured out the household acoustics to be able to vacuum the playroom, all within earshot of Zuul.

What I'm really like.

I have ducked and hidden behind furniture when she stirs, as babies are restless little sleepers, I have aborted missions upon feeling that all too familiar tickle in my throat - the warning of the coughing that about to occur, and mine sure is loud and vicious sounding for someone so petite (I'd add "and demure", but who am I kidding).  I can silently mouth "FUCK FUCK FUCK" while I writhe in pain after stubbing my toe for the umpteenth time on the nursing chair.  I can even, on occasion, get a little me time afterwards if she naps well.

Who I think I'm like.

I feel so confident about this skill that I may just add it to my resume.  You never know when sneaky and invisible, cat-like agility might be required from an office manager.  It might even allow me to level up to Executive Assistant --- assuming I ever go back to my old career path.  I'm still secretly hoping I can pad our family's income upcycling furniture, street-side selling our organic produce & free range eggs (A very competitive market in the Greater Victoria area, southwest of Langford especially.)

Who I'm really like.

So today, May the Fourth, I'm celebrating my graduation from Padawan to Jedi, of course.

Who I think I'm like.

 May the Fourth be with you.

Who I'm really like.

Sunday Confessional

Zuul's both sick with a cough and cold and cutting teeth right now. I caved and started using Baby Vaporub on her for naps and bedtime. Of course, I do sing Soft Kitty to her while I rub it on her chest.