Tuesday, 9 April 2013

Seven reasons I cried at work today

Crying at work is not necessarily uncommon for me.  Life upsets me and I don't really know how to hold it in.  Today, however, the crying at work was the result of a series of related reasons, of which I will enumerate here:

1) When I arrive and run into a coworker I haven't seen for weeks, I don't need him to exclaim "Well, let's see your belly! Let's see the reveal!" as I'm removing my jacket - even if he is the kindest, sweetest colleague of all time.  This makes me feel like an object that is being pointed at.  Not to mention, I don't think if he were gaining weight he'd want me to point at his ass and shout at him. 

2) I am a whale.  I'm already too big to touch my feet, or bend, or do yoga, or sit up, or roll over, or put on my underwear, or shave my legs, or wear any of my clothes, or find new clothes that I like, or tolerate my bulky winter jackets (WHICH I STILL NEED BECAUSE SPRING WON'T COME).   And guess what sunshine? I still have 3 months to go and this tiny human is less than 3 pounds so far.  There's nowhere else for her (or me) to grow.  I am as big as I can handle, and I'm so terrified about that fact that I can't even type it without wanting to cry. 

3) Add to that: I am fucking tired.  Not only is my mind running at warp speed with baby thoughts all hours of the day, but I can't sleep because my back and hips hurt like hell (yes I have pillows). 

4) I am in pain.  See above.  The back pain has started and I'm still working on ways to relieve it.  Anyone who is in pain might be a little extra sensitive, no?  Well, add pain to the other 6 reasons, and I feel justified. 

5) I am hormonal.  I have to admit this must be part of the problem.  I tend to resist the "crazy pregnant hormones" hypothesis, but I do feel fragile lately which must at least be partially due to the raging ridiculousness that happens to one's body when she is housing an ever-growing human being.

6) I am embarrassed.  Being the centre of attention is hard for anyone, especially when it comes to a person's body.  Not to mention, nobody likes crying in public - it tends to lead to more crying. 

7) The barrage of attention is constant.  There is no reprieve.  So even if you are a well-meaning colleague, friend, or family member, having people comment on or point at my body all day does not make it easier to withstand. If I've learned anything in my life, it's that tolerance boils down to volume and frequency. 

I get that some pregnant women don't feel this way.  Or they do and they just don't talk about it.  Or they do and other people are not paying attention.  But I am not the only one to say this.  I am not crazy.  This is hard, and it's allowed to be. 

My advice to people (including Past Me who has also made this mistake): Please don't make everything about the baby, even if it is all you can see.  Remember that she's a person - a person going through a lot right now - and maybe you could just act normal sometimes.  Or at least be subtle...

Friday, 5 April 2013

Hubby darling, play me a tune

One of my absolute favourite things about Hubby?  He plays the gui-tar.  Scratch that, he doesn't play it, he masters it.  He's really quite remarkable on that friggin thing.

Sometimes I beg him to for the love of god put that thing down already, but most of the time Hubby's guitar playing is the highlight of my day.  Neither one of us can wait until he teaches our little girl to play along with him. (I'll just watch.  And continue to pretend I know how to sing.)

If you know any guitarists, especially any good ones, you know they usually have a few key influences.  In Hubby's case, John Mayer is the go-to.

Now.  You might not appreciate John Mayer. Sure, sometimes he comes across as kind of a douche, and you might not even like his sometimes cheesy tunes.  However, in case you don't already know, I'm here to tell you that John Mayer's skills on six strings are very nearly unmatched.

Often to my particular frustration, John Mayer has become the backdrop to our lives.  Mr Mayer was playing when Hubby and I decided to tie the knot.  Uncle D quoted him at our wedding ceremony... This is not roman candle, firework, Hollywood, hot pink love; this is I got your BACK love.  Not to mention every goddam road trip of all time.  And of course, without fail, every. single. one. of Hubby's daily guitar sessions.

Despite the over-exposure, I have what one could call a soft spot for those tunes, so naturally I was glad to see John perform on Ellen this week.  Watching him play his new bluesy song Olivia, I learned something: As it turns out, it isn't John Mayer's guitar that I love - it's Hubby's, when he plays Mayer's stuff.

So when I went upstairs, I made of point of sharing this tidbit with my dear husband, for which I was greatly rewarded...

As if I didn't love him enough already, my darling set me up with a full-fledged bedroom concert to entertain me while I showered, complete with Strat, amplifier, vocals, harmonica, and pedal board.

Oh, how much I adore him - even when he's been a total wiener on three separate occasions that day.