Why do I even care what you think, anyway?

As we know, I am telling quite a lot of people about my current pregnancy, and when I do so, I have developed the need to follow the news up with the information that I don't intend to have any more.

This is because I want to pre-empt them thinking that I'm some kind of manic breeder, who either has no idea how to use contraceptives, or who is some martyr who just wants to devote herself to discomfort and the needs of others, I dunno. Well, what's wrong with either of those? It's not a sin to have children. It's not a sin to have 12 children! But I still don't want to be perceived as either of them, for some reason.

Yes, the pregnancies have followed in somewhat quick succession, but they're not really that close compared to, say, me and my sister, or my husband and his brother. These babies will be 23 months apart, perfectly respectable. There were many reasons why I chose to have a baby at this time, to do with my age, my career at this point, my finances and the desire for S to have a sibling he could have fun with. These were my reasons, dammit! Nothing to do with what anyone else thinks! Yes, there have been gasps of, "Oh! You didn't give yourself much breathing space did you?!" and, "Congratulations, you mad thing!" but who gives a crap what they think?

Apparently I do. And I was unable to stop myself from frowning and muttering, "Well, it's a lot to put your body through..." when judgy friend from a few posts back mentioned that she had stopped using contraception. (She has two children under the age of 2). I'm telling myself I was just getting my own back for her calling me silly the other week.

But really, have I too absorbed society's message that procreation and women's pregnant bodies and childbirth are obscene and that they should be controlled and constrained? Probably.

Anthea

I got it I got it I got it I got it

I got the job!  :)

Of course I did.  Why wouldn't I?  As one of the interviewers pointed out, I'm more than qualified and I know I interview really well.  But still, the nerves always get to me and for days before the event I practiced my answers to questions while on the bog, or driving, or waiting for Little O to stop screaming like a banshee and go the fluck to sleep.  But I digress.  It was lovely to finally be back in a work environment, and now we move on to the next phase of sorting out Little O's daycare arrangements.

My husband's mother is coming to stay with us next week to learn the ropes of looking after Little O, and to help us out while I start my new position.  Initially we thought we were going to need her from Monday 4th Oct, but there was a huge balls-up with the drug test this afternoon and now I won't be able to start until Wednesday.  But no matter: it's nice that she's able (and willing, more importantly) to drop everything and visit us while we're in need.  Very, very nice.  The drug test incident, to clarify, wasn't an error on MY part.  I'm drug free.  In fact, the last pot I smoked was before Little O was even conceived, so it's not as though I'm having to wait to re-take the test or something.  No, the problem was that I arrived at the testing centre (center, I suppose) with a small child in tow.  Apparently some "parents" - I use the term loosely - have used their child's urine in place of their own to avoid detection, so now kids aren't allowed in.  I asked if Little O could stay outside the bathroom while I completed the test, but they don't have liability insurance or waivers so that wasn't allowed either.  So I was told to go away and find child care arrangements, and then come back by myself.  The whole thing is so infuriating, because if I'd been able to find someone to look after Little O this week, I would have started the new job earlier... grr...

Anyway, I'm taking the test Friday morning before my husband and I take Little O to get the results of his MRI test, so now the drug test results won't be available until Tuesday, which means I can't start until Wednesday.  I'm sure it doesn't send the greatest message to my new employers, but quite frankly they can lump it.  THEY'RE the ones who want my pee so badly, so they can jolly well wait until I'm ready to give it to them.

But I am excited.  And it's a contract-to-permanent position, which means even if they choose not to renew the contract come February, I already know in advance and can start looking for better paid other work.  Plus, if we do decide to have another baby (took a test or seven and I'm NOT currently pregnant... which is a bit of a relief now this job's come up) then I can take the third trimester easy at home, sitting on a comfortable cushion of hard-earned dollar bills, yo.

Yay for me!  I think Little O's good luck charm worked.  :)

Tina.

News

I am a useless person.

Well, to be more accurate, I am a person who has worked full-time since her son was less than 10 weeks old, who devotes a minimum of two evenings a week to playing in and managing a band, and who has spent the last year or so buying and moving into a property. (A key worker property. Do you know how complicated that is??) What I actually am is a busy person.

And as such I have, since S's birth, written but two posts. Both about said birth. Surely I cannot really claim to be a contributor to this blog at all.

However, I feel I must at least post this: I found out yesterday that I am pregnant with our second baby. Congratulations to me, I feel.

(Do not confuse me with Tina at this point! She might be, whereas I definitely am!)

Anthea

Scissor Sisters

I think I forgot to say that I went to a Scissor Sisters' concert last week.  Well, I say 'concert'... it was more of a down-and-dirty 'gig' in a dive bar.  And it was FABULOUS.  I cannot believe I haven't written about it yet.

I'm a big fan of tunes with heavy basslines, clever lyrics, and a beat you can shake yer ass to, and the Scissor Sisters fill those requirements beautifully.  Their first two albums were really disco-ey and funky, and their third has become a more mature sound, with a focus on really filthy lyrics.  They played stuff from all three albums at the gig and because I am, by nature, a woman who insists on knowing ALL the lyrics to ALL the songs she loves, I sang my throat sore to everything they performed. 

It may not be cool to love disco, soul, and funk as much as I do, but I do.  I cannot help it.  I MUST dance and shake my ass as much as possible when I listen to music, and after D sent me Paloma Faith's album I have been cranking up the volume on that too (yeah... I know it came out last year, but I live in Cheeseland, Wisconsin, and we don't get funky shit released that much over here).  I'm not cool.  I know that.  But I'm okay with it, because it means I get to meet fabulous gays and too-cool lesbians at dive bars in Milwaukee that play host to the Scissor Sisters.  I fuckin' LOVE IT.

Driving home from the gig I felt drunk.  Or high.  Something, anyway.  I'd only had a single Malibu and Diet Coke so I knew I wasn't actually drunk, but it was the most beautiful feeling.  My throat was hoarse and my ears didn't stop ringing for three days, but I felt so energised and... well... happy.  I truly felt like I deserved a night out with J & G and my new 400+ friends in tight jeans, and while I was dancing and singing away I honestly forgot where I was and who I was.  I was no longer in Cheeseland or a wife and mother; I was just a silly, happy party beast.  It was a fantastic feeling and it really invigorated me the following weekend.  Don't get me wrong: reading and writing and massages and taking walks are all lovely, relaxing things to do.  But they don't speak to me like a gig like that one did.  I didn't have any responsibilities at all for three whole hours, and I got to feel the way I did when I was younger, boogy-ing my way through university.

Honestly - and I know this sounds crap - I think I had a spiritual moment.  I think the music gods of the sky were patting me on the back and telling me it's okay for me to stop being Tina the Wife and Tina the Mother once in a while, and just be Tina the Magnificent.  It was fucking unbelieveable. 

I want to do it again.

Tina.

Panic over!

It's all okay!  Now I can stop being distracted and dropping stuff and forgetting what I'm supposed to be doing, and concentrate on not flipping out for the umpteenth time this week that Little O's food pump keeps leaking PediaSure all over his bed.

So, it's good news... but wow.  That was close.

Tina.