We moved into Manson Homestead in January of 2005, though the nickname came much later. We brought just ourselves and two cats, and what little furniture we had (a bed and a sofa) arrived almost a full week after we did. We started out here with nothing, literally nothing. Now we've been here for a pretty decent four and a half years, and along the way we've managed to accumulate another cat and a houseful of possessions. I am continually shocked at how much CLUTTER we managed to make in that time, how DIRTY the undersink cabinets got when I wasn't looking. And where the fuck did all these fucking cat hair tumbleweeds come from?
We'd decided we were going to move ourselves. We were going to pack up everything on our own and move it with help from friends and family. And then after a couple of days where I spent all my time lifting and bending and crouching and cleaning and packing, I ended up having some ugly menstrual-type cramps (and some bleeding, but I think that was from something else), and we threw in the towel. The Navy is going to move us. The Navy is going to hire professional movers to come in and pack all our stuff, move it all and unpack it at our new house.
This means Sid and I are left doing damage control. Because I know they aren't going to scrub the doorframes, or the cabinets, or the baseboards, or anything like that. And our landlady was cool with us not repainting before we left, so long as we cleaned up before we left. And that was kind of a given! What were we going to do, leave our dirty finger marks on the white paint for someone else to scrub?
So I've been trying to pace myself and do a little bit each day. My task for the past week has been cleaning out all the cabinets in the house. And noodly FSM, you'd never freaking BELIEVE the sheer amount of CRAP that got stashed in our cabinets simply because we didn't know where else to put the shit. Grocery bags and caulking guns and a showerhead and old license plates and a soggy box of industrial staples... just to name a few. I'm in awe at how much we packed into those small spaces. I feel like such a goddamn packrat.
Monday, August 31, 2009
Monday, August 24, 2009
home sweet home
Staying with Sid's dad and grandmother was an exercise in patience and tongue-biting, and it would be an understatement to say I am glad to be home. I am fucking relieved to be home. It was just one thing after another while we were there, and I was on my last nerve due to all the traveling and lack of sleep... so yeah. It was interesting, to say the least.
Elder Manson started in on his "well, I guess I have to take back the baseball bat and the cleats and the glove..." and I cut him down in a cold minute. "That's awfully mean, why can't a girl use those things?" And he hemmed and hawed and tried to feed me a lame line of bullshit about boys and girls sizing being different. Close, but no cigar, Elder Manson! Try again!
And then we found out that Grandmother, Eldest Manson, has failed her drivers test and continues to drive. Blind in one eye and hardly able to get about under her own steam, this woman is still plonking herself down behind the wheel to operate a vehicle. I am staying far, far away from that one.
And then the water was terribly hard and dried out my skin and caused such a pizza-faced breakout that I was afraid to look in the mirror. Nothing like walking around with a bad case of the zits to really boost yer self-esteem!
And then, and then, and then! We ate off plastic silverware the entire time we were there because someone, I don't know who and I don't care who, simply rinsed off the dirty silverware and stuck that shit back in the drawer. Didn't scrub it with hot water and soap, didn't run it through the dishwasher, just stuck that crusty mess back to be used again. I'm not much of a housekeeper myself, but the overall state of that kitchen was appalling. My kitchen may be cluttered and the porcelain sink may be in dire need of a bleaching, but for fuck's sake, at least it's clean!
I keep telling myself that they mean well, but I can only tolerate the elder Mansons in small doses.
Elder Manson started in on his "well, I guess I have to take back the baseball bat and the cleats and the glove..." and I cut him down in a cold minute. "That's awfully mean, why can't a girl use those things?" And he hemmed and hawed and tried to feed me a lame line of bullshit about boys and girls sizing being different. Close, but no cigar, Elder Manson! Try again!
And then we found out that Grandmother, Eldest Manson, has failed her drivers test and continues to drive. Blind in one eye and hardly able to get about under her own steam, this woman is still plonking herself down behind the wheel to operate a vehicle. I am staying far, far away from that one.
And then the water was terribly hard and dried out my skin and caused such a pizza-faced breakout that I was afraid to look in the mirror. Nothing like walking around with a bad case of the zits to really boost yer self-esteem!
And then, and then, and then! We ate off plastic silverware the entire time we were there because someone, I don't know who and I don't care who, simply rinsed off the dirty silverware and stuck that shit back in the drawer. Didn't scrub it with hot water and soap, didn't run it through the dishwasher, just stuck that crusty mess back to be used again. I'm not much of a housekeeper myself, but the overall state of that kitchen was appalling. My kitchen may be cluttered and the porcelain sink may be in dire need of a bleaching, but for fuck's sake, at least it's clean!
I keep telling myself that they mean well, but I can only tolerate the elder Mansons in small doses.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
the lesser of two evils
Remember we were so worried about Sid moving to his next command in November? It is no longer an issue.
Because we're moving in October.
This is hardly much better, because now we must rush to find a house. And a doctor or midwife. Sid is taking two weeks off work for us to go down to Flori-duh and attempt to find these things. It's happening very fast: we only found out on Friday, and this coming Friday, we're starting our househunting trip. We've been trying to get the house in some semblance of order NOW, so that we don't have to worry about it later, but it's hard. We had a lot of clothes to go through, a lot of crap to sift through in the back room where we kept a lot of our clutter.
And we haven't even begun packing yet.
The move itself is going to suck, but we're going to have plenty of help, so it won't be unbearable. Sid's dad (Elder Manson) and my dad (Elder Baldwin - don't even ask) are both going to come to assist. And also, our neighbors here will help, because we helped them move in. And then when we get to Flori-duh, my sister said she'd also come and lend a hand.
So I think we'll be okay. Moving in October, though it puts us on a tight schedule to find a house, is the better alternative in my mind. This way gives us some time to settle in and unpack before Spagett arrives. We wouldn't really have that opportunity if we moved a month later.
As you can tell, I am trying very hard to focus on the silver lining.
Because we're moving in October.
This is hardly much better, because now we must rush to find a house. And a doctor or midwife. Sid is taking two weeks off work for us to go down to Flori-duh and attempt to find these things. It's happening very fast: we only found out on Friday, and this coming Friday, we're starting our househunting trip. We've been trying to get the house in some semblance of order NOW, so that we don't have to worry about it later, but it's hard. We had a lot of clothes to go through, a lot of crap to sift through in the back room where we kept a lot of our clutter.
And we haven't even begun packing yet.
The move itself is going to suck, but we're going to have plenty of help, so it won't be unbearable. Sid's dad (Elder Manson) and my dad (Elder Baldwin - don't even ask) are both going to come to assist. And also, our neighbors here will help, because we helped them move in. And then when we get to Flori-duh, my sister said she'd also come and lend a hand.
So I think we'll be okay. Moving in October, though it puts us on a tight schedule to find a house, is the better alternative in my mind. This way gives us some time to settle in and unpack before Spagett arrives. We wouldn't really have that opportunity if we moved a month later.
As you can tell, I am trying very hard to focus on the silver lining.
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
like planning for a hurricane
We got our first batch of Bum Genius one-size diapers last night, and I'm somewhat ashamed to admit that it was exciting. Diapers. Exciting. Yeah, let that process a bit.
It was exciting though. Really! It was our first major baby-related purchase, after all. The first of many. We sat on the bed and examined the snaps and elastic and velcro, compared the pastel colors to the bright ones (the bright pink and blue are both DARLING, but the bright yellow is still my favorite), and discussed how weird it seemed to have to make these kinds of purchases.
"It's like planning for a hurricane," Sid said at one point. "It doesn't feel real." I laughed, but it's true. There is just so much planning to do, so many things that we need, so much that we don't know!
As an aside, I hate that it seems like every time I blog, it's about OMG, BAYBEE! I know it must get old. And I do apologize. But this is the biggest thing happening in my life right now, the topic of discussion for everyone close to us. Spagett has been much awaited by everyone in our family, not just me and Sid, and we are all justifiably excited.
It was exciting though. Really! It was our first major baby-related purchase, after all. The first of many. We sat on the bed and examined the snaps and elastic and velcro, compared the pastel colors to the bright ones (the bright pink and blue are both DARLING, but the bright yellow is still my favorite), and discussed how weird it seemed to have to make these kinds of purchases.
"It's like planning for a hurricane," Sid said at one point. "It doesn't feel real." I laughed, but it's true. There is just so much planning to do, so many things that we need, so much that we don't know!
As an aside, I hate that it seems like every time I blog, it's about OMG, BAYBEE! I know it must get old. And I do apologize. But this is the biggest thing happening in my life right now, the topic of discussion for everyone close to us. Spagett has been much awaited by everyone in our family, not just me and Sid, and we are all justifiably excited.
Monday, August 3, 2009
bitching and stuff
Today I was surprised to find that my black maternity pants, which have been slightly too big this whole time I've otherwise been comfortably wearing maternity clothes, finally fit. And it's not because I've bulked up, because I've still not gained much weight (most charts estimate that at 20 weeks, a woman should have gained about ten pounds, give or take a few... I've gained three). My too-big maternity pants aren't fitting now because of weight gain - though I wouldn't mind that! - but because of the gut explosion.
By the way, I'm STILL sick. Not all the time, and definitely not to the point of vomiting, but STILL. And over the weekend, after I'd gone almost a whole month without vomiting, we ate mexican and out of nowhere... OOPS, I HAVE TO PUKE. Oh my FSM, was that ever unpleasant. I am so fucking over this pregnancy bullshit. Just hand me the newborn and lets have done with this!
Sid and I finally agreed on names (we'd had first names picked for a while, but were stumped on middle names), both of which I'm super-excited about (and no, we did not use "Edward"). When Elder Manson heard what we'd settled on a few months ago, he said they "sounded like black names" and I was forced to explain to him that they had their roots in Irish and Old-English. He's going to shit himself when he hears what the middle names are, because they're certainly different.
By the way, I'm STILL sick. Not all the time, and definitely not to the point of vomiting, but STILL. And over the weekend, after I'd gone almost a whole month without vomiting, we ate mexican and out of nowhere... OOPS, I HAVE TO PUKE. Oh my FSM, was that ever unpleasant. I am so fucking over this pregnancy bullshit. Just hand me the newborn and lets have done with this!
Sid and I finally agreed on names (we'd had first names picked for a while, but were stumped on middle names), both of which I'm super-excited about (and no, we did not use "Edward"). When Elder Manson heard what we'd settled on a few months ago, he said they "sounded like black names" and I was forced to explain to him that they had their roots in Irish and Old-English. He's going to shit himself when he hears what the middle names are, because they're certainly different.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
gender roles
We chose not find out Spagett's sex for one simple reason: we know that if we find out, the family will glut us with heavily gendered toys and clothes. And we simply don't care for that. We think it is stupid and unnecessary. Babies are fairly genderless little beings, and we as parents, we as guardians and family and even strangers, are the ones who push them into assigned gender roles.
Case in point: Sid's father insinuated last night that we were keeping the sex secret from him for some nefarious purpose, then went on to basically say that he could not buy anything for his grandchild until he knew the sex. Because what if he buys a baseball glove and it turns out we have a girl?
Let me just say that he is incredibly lucky he did not say that to me. As it was, it was said to Sid, who chooses to let that kind of stuff fall by the wayside more often than not.
We have a registry, one that Sid and I put together after much discussion over each individual piece. We deliberately left out "gendered colors" such as blue, purple and pink - even though neither of us harbor any particular qualms about dressing a child of either sex in those colors - because we did not want the family to get ideas and make assumptions. We only put two big-ticket items on the list, and the rest were affordable, inexpensive necessaries, all in gender neutral colors: clothes and towels and socks and burp rags and crib sheets and hats. If you are shopping straight from the registry, Elder Manson, there's no need to say that you can't buy anything simply because you don't know the sex of the child you are shopping for! It smacks of blackmail, quite honestly! We made the registry the way we did so that everyone - yes, even you! - could buy what they chose and could afford. We really did have family in mind, believe it or not!
Before we decided to have a child, Sid and I had many discussions about gender roles. If a son of yours decides he'd like to wear a skirt one day, will you tell him no? I wanted to know. If he wants to play with Barbies, will you tell him he can't? What if we have a child who is intersex? Will you choose their gender, or let them make their own choice? Both of us had lots of questions for the other, and we both had lots to say about what was important to us. And in the end, we were in total agreement. I won't even attempt to lay it all out for you, but it boiled down to this: Whether boy or girl or intersex or whatever, our child would not be forced into society's gender roles. We would never be the ones to say "little boys don't play with dolls" or "little girls don't play sports" and try to dictate who they should be, what role they should play.
We know that once Spagett is born, there will be no avoiding the gendered gifts from family. We know it is unavoidable. We know that we are fighting a battle in which we are clearly outnumbered. But we also know that it is up to us as parents to make sure that Spagett will grow up in a home where it is perfectly safe to be a little bit different. And we can do that!
Case in point: Sid's father insinuated last night that we were keeping the sex secret from him for some nefarious purpose, then went on to basically say that he could not buy anything for his grandchild until he knew the sex. Because what if he buys a baseball glove and it turns out we have a girl?
Let me just say that he is incredibly lucky he did not say that to me. As it was, it was said to Sid, who chooses to let that kind of stuff fall by the wayside more often than not.
We have a registry, one that Sid and I put together after much discussion over each individual piece. We deliberately left out "gendered colors" such as blue, purple and pink - even though neither of us harbor any particular qualms about dressing a child of either sex in those colors - because we did not want the family to get ideas and make assumptions. We only put two big-ticket items on the list, and the rest were affordable, inexpensive necessaries, all in gender neutral colors: clothes and towels and socks and burp rags and crib sheets and hats. If you are shopping straight from the registry, Elder Manson, there's no need to say that you can't buy anything simply because you don't know the sex of the child you are shopping for! It smacks of blackmail, quite honestly! We made the registry the way we did so that everyone - yes, even you! - could buy what they chose and could afford. We really did have family in mind, believe it or not!
Before we decided to have a child, Sid and I had many discussions about gender roles. If a son of yours decides he'd like to wear a skirt one day, will you tell him no? I wanted to know. If he wants to play with Barbies, will you tell him he can't? What if we have a child who is intersex? Will you choose their gender, or let them make their own choice? Both of us had lots of questions for the other, and we both had lots to say about what was important to us. And in the end, we were in total agreement. I won't even attempt to lay it all out for you, but it boiled down to this: Whether boy or girl or intersex or whatever, our child would not be forced into society's gender roles. We would never be the ones to say "little boys don't play with dolls" or "little girls don't play sports" and try to dictate who they should be, what role they should play.
We know that once Spagett is born, there will be no avoiding the gendered gifts from family. We know it is unavoidable. We know that we are fighting a battle in which we are clearly outnumbered. But we also know that it is up to us as parents to make sure that Spagett will grow up in a home where it is perfectly safe to be a little bit different. And we can do that!
Sunday, July 26, 2009
belated update
Last week I had the big anatomy ultrasound, where they take all sorts of measurements and make sure that there aren't any gross anatomical defects in the fetus. We got some good pictures, which by now have probably made the rounds to family I didn't know we had, courtesy of Sid's mother. I won't share them all, because that would be obnoxious and boring, but I want to post the one that is my favorite...
I like to compare it to the nine week sonogram, just because there's such a marked difference in the development. You don't have to squint and tilt your head to try and make out the head end from the butt end! It's no longer a little blobby gummy bear creature!
But enough about that, it gets old after a while. I want to put down for posterity the most appalling thing EVER.
Not only is my blood pressure wonky, and oftentimes gets too low and I feel like I'm going to faint dead away, and not only do I have monstrous round ligament pain that is so bad I have been walking around like an old woman... I had to venture outside yesterday for twenty minutes and get bumrushed by mosquitoes. I am not exaggerating when I say I have got at least fifteen or twenty bites on each leg. From the knees down, I'm a throbbing lumpy mess of itchiness. I am in a veritable PANIC: nothing is easing this itch, nothing is helping at all.
As if mad heartburn, wonky blood pressure, and crippling round ligament pain weren't enough... this is the cherry on the shit sundae, let me tell you.
I like to compare it to the nine week sonogram, just because there's such a marked difference in the development. You don't have to squint and tilt your head to try and make out the head end from the butt end! It's no longer a little blobby gummy bear creature!
But enough about that, it gets old after a while. I want to put down for posterity the most appalling thing EVER.
Not only is my blood pressure wonky, and oftentimes gets too low and I feel like I'm going to faint dead away, and not only do I have monstrous round ligament pain that is so bad I have been walking around like an old woman... I had to venture outside yesterday for twenty minutes and get bumrushed by mosquitoes. I am not exaggerating when I say I have got at least fifteen or twenty bites on each leg. From the knees down, I'm a throbbing lumpy mess of itchiness. I am in a veritable PANIC: nothing is easing this itch, nothing is helping at all.
As if mad heartburn, wonky blood pressure, and crippling round ligament pain weren't enough... this is the cherry on the shit sundae, let me tell you.
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