go shorty...
my friend lexy rang me this afternoon to check on me since I hadn't updated my weblog "in foreverrrr"...to which I replied "what are you talkin about, I just updated that shit a few days ago". much to my surprise I then realized it hadn't been three or four days like it felt but 8 to be exact and yet thats barely over a week and not really foreverrrr. so can I ask yall a question? do you really think my life is so enthralling as of late that I'd need to write twice within a week anyway? believe me when I say that the whole of my current existance revoles around the exponential rate my pregnant belly is swelling, my pregnant feet aching so bad they tingle, my pregnancy induced insanity that causes me to drift into non-sensical tangents about who knows what shit, and my pregnant attitude problem that threatens to flare up at even the slightest annoyance due to lack of sleep which is a result of my bladder screaming in faux-fullness within the hushed, pregnant pauses of 3, 4, and 5 ante.meridiem. I haven't written one thing in eight months that hasn't at least contained the word pregnant...so I figure once every couple weeks, save for when a bunch of exciting shit goes down in a smaller time period whenever that may be, suffices. similarly, stacey said she's coming back into town especially for the celebration that will occur once I am done breast feeding and I can have me a drink or two...can't even toast my twenty-asdfjkl!th birthday tomorrow properly...unless I can find a bodega around here that sells that cherry vanilla dr. pepper. that is one tasty beverage.
I feel funny about calling heads I haven't talked to in awhile on my birthday...it almost seems like I'm fishing for a birthday wish. it makes it seem like I didn't have enough faith in their ability to remember. I need to return all kinds of phone calls tomorrow but I know I get a bit of an attitude when people I owe phone calls to for whatever reason call me before I can call them. like...damn...can I get a chance to dial, motherfucker?
"my pregnancy induced insanity...causes me to drift into non-sensical tangents"
there's an ipod box sitting next to me from my boy that I haven't opened yet, mostly because aforementioned boy said opening apple things should be an "event". I've wanted one for months, especially after I got to play with my friend ro's (music just sounds better when its coming from something small, high-tech, and expensive). therefore I hath decided not to open it until it's really my birthday which is about an hour or so from now. topher is already asleep on the couch anyway with his sleepin ass...my father's nickname for him is "sleepy time", like the tea...he is the sleepingest negro ever invented. he did stay awake through the entirety of "bklyn" this evening, however, but I don't know if that can be attributed to the fact that it's a really excellent broadway musical and subsequently cost $96 a seat or because one of the leads being, in all seriousness, smooth and brown like the hersey's factory exploded and rained melted chocolate all over her and thicker then a snicker. either way, he seemed to dig it, and I liked it much more then I thought I would...I just hadn't really heard a lot about it besides it generating a lot of new show buzz. whatever the case, I'm glad I chose to see it in leiu of waiting for "avenue q" tickets...I was very emotionally invested in it...the ache of wanting love and approval when you're used to getting none, the aftertaste of fame, and shit, especially the part about a young girl coming to new york to find answers to questions she doesn't even know how to phrase yet. the thickum chocolate girl (lemme stop, she does have a name, haneefah wood) was icing on the cake, no pun intended, though...hard to believe she was the understudy. hard to believe the gossip amongst theatre folk is the show is in trouble, too, considering it was a packed house filled with enthusiastic heads who clapped and cheered every chance they got and couldn't wait to stand for an ovation at the end. I like being in audiences like that for plays and for movies.
back to this 8 day thing. over the past 8 days I saw the movie "hitch" with my girl kyedi (it was predictable and formulatic, much like most good romantic comedies, but really damn funny and witty), ate salmon twice (once at applebee's right before seeing "hitch" and again at an italian restaurant topher took me to for valentine's day - more on that in a moment), received a mad gorgeous black and pink velvet dress and bonnet for beans from mimi, went to my first childbirth education class (li accompanied me because christopher had to work - more on that in a moment too), and slept on my couch three nights in a row. I'm not comfortable in my bedroom anymore...the mattress is crap and theres this incessant tapping sound coming from somewhere in the walls that to me, oh bearer of superhero hearing when it comes to incessant sounds, is equivalent to a 747 roaring past my window or nails down a chalkboard or anyone not in g-unit shouting "g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-unit!" in regular conversation or pharrel william's singing voice after two songs max. also, this morning I had yet another doctor's appointment, got another ultrasound that confirmed that beans has now placed herself in vertex position (head pointing down - basically she's ready to go) and had more blood, yes more blood taken from me by evil nancy who is my obyn's nurse and, I should note, not really evil but what else do I call someone who is constantly putting needles in my arm? I mean shit. and valentine's day it rained. and by rain I mean moonsoon. so we just went close by to giovanni's where I got quickly annoyed by our seating arrangement...right in the middle of the main floor...where you can't help but be jostled and bumped by the constant flow of customers and waiters walking back and forth, where it feels like the entire restaurant is looking at you eat. I wasn't comfortable, nor did I feel even the least bit valentine-ish until we were finally able to move to a more intimate table.
lamaze class....lordy lord. my teacher is real funny telling us not to watch shows like "a baby story" on TLC cause they might make us more nervous...how about the fact that I am in lamaze class period makes me nervous. we were supposed to go on friday evenings for the next six weeks but I misunderstood and thought we could just show up the day of without reserving a spot...not the case. since we hadn't signed up, and there's only 9 couples allowed in each class, friday evening was booked - but saturday mornings had one slot open so we took it; 10am - 1pm. unfortunately it was too short a notice for christopher to get off work, at least for the first class, but li went with me instead...I wouldn't have really liked going it alone. the teacher, miss harris, is pretty cool...chunky white lady, very animated...brought us cookies and tea and coffee. it was mad schoolhouse...we had nametags and went around in a circle to introduce ourselves (li informed everyone she was only playing the part of christopher for that one performance) and briefly explain what we did for a living and what our interests were. most of the couples had computery tech-ish jobs, ironically enough...there were a couple designers, some programmers, an IT guy. also an architect, two actors, an analyst, and the obligatory stay at home mom.
most of that first day of class was spent on the history of lamaze, how to recognize real labor from false alarms, what to do when our water breaks, how long we can stay at home before we should go to the hospital, and how to actual time contractions - from the beginning of one to the beginning of the next, not the space in between as I'd originally figured. very very handy information...I already feel much less nervous and in the dark about what exactly is going to go down and how I should prepare myself on that day, provided no comlications occur. miss harris also showed us diagrams of what happens to all of our internal organs as the baby grows and by the nine-month diagram I couldn't help but say "OH MY GOSH" out loud, much to the amusement of everyone else...yea, oh my gosh is what I said, but my brain said "FUCK". its like the womb pushes everything all out of wack, you don't even realize how little room there is in there until you see it all illustrated...I no longer have any wonder about why it aches all over.
the last hour of class we finally got to the breathing thing, which is also when it got pretty hilarious for me and li. at one point I just said "let's watch everyone else" cause I couldn't pretend li, who is about 5 inches shorter then me with ample breasts, was christopher. something about laying my head on her chest, putting my arms up around her neck, and "gently rocking" was too gay, and for me ya know thats saying a lot, lol. great fun was had, though, even as tired as I was. we don't have to go tomorrow because its presidents day weekend, but we resume next saturday. by then the boston market restaurant across the street from the hospital should be open, too, which makes me look forward to going. I love their macaroni and cheese, yo.
I need to go to sleep...I'm actually really tired and I know at 7:02am my big brother will call me, as he does every year, to tell me happy birthday (thats the exact time I was born). last year I had a birthday party that was all a'blaze with strippers and booze (yes yes yall they still talk about that party to this day boy)...much to my chagrin, I didn't write about it (its interesting how some of the events that have meant the most to me I never even wrote about), but trust me when I say it was quite the evening. the night before the party was my actual birthday, however, and on that day christopher officially asked me to be his woman...and that was something that meant a lot to me not only for the obvious reasons but also because I'm conveniently old fashioned and romantic...and there's very few things a man can do, at least with his clothes on, that's more appealing then asking a woman to be his. so tomorrow is not only about me me me, its about the passionate, furious love I have been blessed and tormented with by way of this man who is so intellectual and underrated and so unnaturally mature for (nearly) 23 years old and what he's come to mean to the very fabric of my existance. the mickey to my mallory knox. I don't even want my "own" day if it can't be his too. I wonder way too much what I would do if something ever happened to him...how I would make it without seeing his beautiful damn eyes look at me like I'm so so pretty when I feel anything but...what I would tell our daughter about who he was. it's probably not healthy or positive to even entertain anything happening to him, but I've never had so much to lose as I do now. growing older puts it in perspective a little more every year especially after you leap across 25 into the last half of your twenties. I'm just glad tomorrow evening I can be with him, get some phone calls from those that mean the absolute most to me that can't be here, and eat some lobster at my favorite seafood restaurant, and maybe go catch constantine and most of all put his hand on my stomach when our daughter moves in preparation to strike down upon us and thank god allah jah yahweh the gods and the goddesses unicorns and candy corns and all that is mighty for giving me so many reasons to be glad I lived yet another year.