Saturday, February 21, 2009

It's just a number. Sure it is. :)

Today I went clothes shopping. Now, in fairness, I must admit that I'm a plus-sized woman. (In fact, see that picture of the Venus of Willendorf on my blog? She and I look a lot alike, except that I don't have her fancy hairdo and I have a face. :-P.) And I'm okay with that---while, yes, I'd like to be thinner, I'm also realistic about my size and, for the most part, I'm comfortable with it. I won't say that "getting comfortable" was easy, but I'm fine where I'm at now. And I'm healthy---my blood pressure is low, I get regular exercise and I'm not showing any signs of a pre-diabetic condition.

So, I go shopping and I notice that all the pants sizes have changed, drastically. I normally wear a US women's size 18 or 20, depending on who's making the clothes (don't get me started on why they don't size them by inseam and waist, like mens' pants are.) When I was looking, they were all sizes 1, 2, or 3, and color coded for "fit." (Which I presume means "curvy," "really curvy," and "CALL OMAR THE TENT MAKER NOW" :-P) Apparently, the smaller number size is supposed to make me, the consumer, feel better about buying, because my "size" is now smaller.

Um, no. First of all...look, I wear an 18 or 20. I know what a size 2 looks like, and I've never been that (well, unless you count third grade. Maybe. :-P) And I don't like being patronized---there is nothing worse than the feeling of having some nameless Madison Avenue exec. metaphorically patting me on the head and saying "There, there, fat chick, we'll make the numbers smaller and you'll feel better."

The thing is, I don't. It took me a long time to get to the point where I was okay with who I am and what I look like, and if I can walk into a store, and hold my head high while I pick out the clothes that look good on me and my body style, I figure the least Madison Avenue can do is back off and let me do it. Shameless marketing ploys need not apply. :)

Tuesday, February 10, 2009

Things You Don't Expect to See at Chez Target :)

Chez Target is literally down the street, so close I could walk there if I felt like freezing. And, perhaps not surprisingly, we end up spending huge amounts of time there---between the pharmacy, the all-important Toddler Stuff (man, it'll be like getting a pay raise when she finally gets off diapers. :)) and just general odds and ends, I think they should probably name an aisle after us, or something.

Anyway, DH was in a Mood. He's not the moody type, but when he's in a Mood, it's best just to take the wee one and give him some space. So she and I went down to Chez Target and did the usual drill: unhook toddler from carseat, put Toddler (and the all-important Tigger) in the cart, lock car, go into Chez Target, yadda, yadda. I was midway through the frozen food section when I realized that someone had left a dirty diaper in a Target shopping bad in our cart.

Okay, granted, it was in a Target bag, but...ew...just....ew. Who does that? I have a baby, and I've seen my fair share of diaper changes done in the back of the car, but come on. The trash can was right inside the store, and there was one right outside the store too. I should know, because that's where I threw someone else's diaper. So they could take the time to wrap the diaper in a Target shopping bag, but not to throw it in the damned trashcan?

Eww.

Wednesday, February 4, 2009

Wow, my very first piece of spam

I just deleted a comment made on my previous blog entry---it was obviously inaccurate that, frankly, I couldn't let it stand. So, bye-bye. :)

However, this comment was from someone I don't know, will never know, and I have no idea as to their motivations. Really, who does this? Who has the time to do this? And why my blog?

Egads.

Tuesday, February 3, 2009

Upheavals, Large and Small

No, nothing serious. I promise. Well, unless you count planning to buy a house in the middle of a recession, that is.

Right now, as the title of this blog suggests, we are a family of three. We fold neatly into small spaces with nary a whimper...but right now, that family of three is crammed into a too-small apartment where my husband is also trying to run a business. So needless to say, we don't have room for anything. The wee one still doesn't have her own room, and while I don't think she's noticed, we need to get into a house before she hits high school. :-P And long before we have baby #2, obviously. :)

And, to add another monkey wrench into things, we presently live in one of the most expensive cities in California. (And if any of you are thinking, "Well, you could always move to someplace cheaper," I say, "Nice try, but fie on you." If you think I'm giving up a job I love with great health insurance in this economy, you're insane. :-P)

Until recently, DH and I were priced far out of the market, far enough that we watched people all around us buy houses we knew they couldn't afford, and wondered how they'd make the payments, because we knew we sure as hell couldn't.

So here we are, planning to buy a house. We actually started the process last fall---I went to the first-time homebuyer class required for our down payment assistance program, and we got pre-approved (or is it pre-qualified? Whichever one it is that really means something.) We looked at houses for weekends on end....

...and then we got scared. Really scared. Most of the homes were bank owned, and they needed a ton of work, or were in a sketchy area, or were too small for the larger family we hope to be one day. And bottom-lining it, mostly we were just scared of finding out that work needed to be done now on a house, work we couldn't afford to pay for. No landlord to call on when your sewer pipe busts, after all.

So we've waited these past few months, and we're slowly getting back into it. It's no less scary than it was last fall, but I think we have a much better idea of what we're looking for and what we won't settle for. Here's hoping we can find something :)

Monday, February 2, 2009

If it's Monday, It Must Be a Wardrobe Malfunction

No, don't call me "Janet" (or "Ms. Jackson, if you're nasty." :-P) This morning was living proof that a) the deities exist and b) they have a rip-roaring sense of humor.

So here's the background: we don't have a washer and dryer at our apartment, so our laundry routine consists of doing laundry about once a month (or more often, if the wee one has been sick.) I looked at Mt. Clothesmore last night and realized that it was too late to washing something up in the sink and hope it would dry by morning, so I dug through my closet and found a clean top and a clean pair of black slacks. Ah, bliss....

I get dressed the following morning and meet my carpool. So far, so good. And then I sit down and I realize two things simultaneously. 1) My zipper is kaput and 2) one pants leg is slightly lower than the other one because it's come unhemmed.

Egads.

Fortunately, I don't work with the public at all, and my top is long enough to cover the zipper. But still---yeah, it was a Monday. And I bet the deities are having a celebration over this particular prank. :-P

Sunday, February 1, 2009

Babies, Babies, Everywhere...

Yeah, I'm having those feelings again. Those who have children might recognize it; it's the feeling that comes just before the feeling that says, "Hey, let's have another one." :) I'm noticing babies a lot these days, when I'm not noticing mine, that is. :-P Babies in strollers, babies with sticky-up hair, babies in their mother's arms.

So, we're hoping to try for another one at the end of March, and hopefully, that will go a LOT smoother than our pregnancy with the wee one did. At least the docs know what caused my preterm labor and can do some preventative measures much earlier in the next pregnancy...which means we'll probably have a healthy, nearly full-term baby. We can hope. :)

Which brings me to the octuplets that have been in the news lately, along with much speculation about how the mother is going to take care of all 14 of her kids when the 8 babies come home. I confess to wondering about that too, as well as wondering what the hell happened there. DH and I did undergo some fertility treatment (though that wasn't how we got pregnant with the Wee One. She was a surprise, in every sense of the word.)

So I can understand the burning desire to have kids. I can even understand not wanting to have a reduction, as this woman apparently decided. There's just something so heart-wrenching about finally being pregnant with a much-wanted child, only to be told that you should consider aborting some to save the others. But what I don't understand is this: if the woman knew ahead of time that she wasn't going to reduce, why did her doctor implant all eight embryos? Did he/she really think it was worth the risk?

And in the end, the babies are the ones that'll suffer. Multiple births mean multiple hazards and it's extremely rare that a family like the Gosselins (of "Jon and Kate + 8" fame) would not have at least one child with cerebral palsy, developmental delays, etc. Plus, there's the NICU itself---it's a great place and it can do a lot to help early babies out (and don't we know it) but it's not a mother's womb. And it's not a place I would wish on any parent or any baby.

So I don't know who I'm more annoyed with---the mother, who decided that six wasn't apparently enough or the doctor, who decided to implant all of the remaining embryos? Somewhere in there, I keep thinking that someone should have decided that just because you can do something, doesn't mean you should.

About Me

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Wife, mom of a preemie, follower of the old ways, lover of anything Irish or Celtic, history buff, trivia nut, Star Trek and Ren Faire geek and costuming fiend. Offer me coffee or chocolate and world peace is assured. Or at least I'll try really hard. :) I also believe in deleting spam. So, to the person or persons who keep leaving me comments in Chinese (along with links to what I can clearly tell are Chinese porn sites) stop it. It's bad karma, to say nothing of being really, really rude.

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