Author Archives: Murphy

Tick tock

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As of now, it will be 48 hours until I arrive at the hospital to begin birthing this child.

It seems both very near and impossibly far away. I am eager to trade in these old tired uncomfortable symptoms for the new and unknown ones that come from delivering a baby.

One good thing is, I’m sleeping really well. I guess I know that I won’t be sleeping so well on tuesday night, and somehow that let me sleep for about 11 hours today. I’ll need my strength.

One fear I have is that the old tired uncomfortable symptoms will stick around to keep the new symptoms company for a while. I HOPE that my hands and feet will stop swelling the instant the delivery is over. But maybe not.

Well, it can’t start to be over until the delivery is over. So, nothing to do but wait and nap as much as possible.

d-day: Jan 20th

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Visited the Doctor yesterday, and he is not willing to wait for my little girl to come out on her own. She’s healthy, even more than me since I have a cold. But she’s big.  ‘Large for Gestational Age’ they call it. She’s 9 and half pounds, which is quite a bit past the LGA threshold. They say a girl is LGA once she’s 8 lbs 14 oz. We probably passed that last month.

It’s apparently not a problem for her to be big, but it’s a little bit of a problem for me. Then again, having her inside me is enough of a problem. The solution is to put some air between us.

So it’s scheduled for Tuesday night. I’m very relieved to have a known end date. And Chris is pleased to have a known schedule for this thing.

Stretched out next to him, I said “It’s amazing that you are just the same as you’ve always been, while I am so changed.”

He smiled. “I have a painting of myself in the attic.”

“Okay, good. I can’t be the only one suffering.”

Mattel says: All your Bratz are belong to us

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When I was a kid, my mom did not let me play with Barbie dolls because they presented an impossible standard of beauty. I didn’t care that much for dolls, but I loved playing dress-up and did resent the Barbie sanctions. My  daughter will play with Barbie if she wants.

But a couple years back, I encountered the Bratz dolls. These little 10″ fabrications of feminine ideal are just about the sluttiest thing for ages 3 and up. The Bratz make the anorexic Barbie (a 5’9″ Barbie in real measurements would have a 36″ chest, 18 waist and 33″ hips) look wholesome.  No way would a child of mine be playing with these belly-baring, poof-lipped pubescent prettygirls that truly belong in the virtual reality section of an Adult DVD store.

Bratz came about in 2001. That’s not long after Brittany Spears declared she was saving herself ’til marriage, even if though she wanted someone to hit her “Baby, One More Time”.  The Spice Girls were peaked and already broken up by the time the Bratz got packaged, so the dolls were not breaking new ground.

But the Bratz were for little girls, and therefore lingered longer.  I would not be able to stop my kid from seeing these and wanting their hyper-sexualized glamour as they stand in plastic-packaged splendor in the toy aisle of EVERYWHERE. They are in the zeigiest. Pandora was here  and the box is open.

But now, I see new hope.

Turns out, Carter Bryant, the creator of Bratz, was working for Mattel when he sold the idea of Bratz to MGA Entertainment. Since he was on their payroll, Mattel had the rights to his ideas. The lawyers began their work.

I don’t know if Mr. Bryant brought his teenage slut fantasy doll up for consideration to his then-employer Mattel. They already had been making and selling Barbie for more than 40 years. Perhaps they had more shame than MGA proved to have.

Either way, the courts say that Mattel owns Bratz now. It’s a business after all, and this WSJ article asks:

MattelInc. faces a big question in the wake of a federal judge’s order handing it control of MGA Entertainment Inc.’s popular Bratz dolls: Are the Bratz worth more to Mattel dead or alive?

The times have changed. Brittany Spears long ago lost her schoolgirl allure. And isn’t it a common rule of thumb, that hemlines rise and fall with the economy? Let these barely-clad Bratz recede into history already.

Please Mattel, let the Bratz die. Barbie can handle the future.

 

 

 

 

symptoms

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While I am sleeping, a small ninja creeps into my mouth. This is easy, since my nose is stuffed up and I have to breathe with my mouth open.

He creeps into my mouth with full ninja weaponry and stabs the back of  my throat repeatedly.

I dont’ wake up right away, but I do wake up and usually reach for some water since the winter desert air of my home has stripped the mucous membranes of my oral cavity of all moisture. I reach for some water first to add the moisture that nature intended my mouth to have, but as soon as I swallow I discover the ravages the small ninja has left behind on my tonsils.

Tonsil wounds heal slowly, apparently.

d-day minus 8: recontextualizing

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It might be even longer. I suspect that it will be longer.

Because of all the wonderful hormones that are peaking at this final moment, there is pretty much no way I am going to feel good until after the hormone-factory (known as the placenta) leaves my body to normalize itself. So, feeling good is several weeks away.

To add insult to injury, there is this nasty cold.

I don’t like being uncomfortable. But I also don’t really like complaining.

So here’s my plan: the goal of each day is to reach the end of it. Not to accomplish tasks or learn things or even to ‘have a nice day.’ The goal is to get through the time.

Time is weighing very heavy on my hands. As well as everything else in my body. But maybe this is sort of like an 8 day plane ride. Just have to get through the uncomfortableness in the most dignified way possible.

D-Day -10: more fun with cat and dog

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What with being pregnant, and the pregnancy-related discomfort (carpal tunnel is making my hands unable to hold a book while laying down–the only position I can maintain for long, and having a cold going on 10 days, I am finding what entertainment I can.

Here is my first movie. I should find a way of adding it to the “Animal Tongues” collection:

I sniffed the tuna hard to see if my sense of smell was beginning to return. It is not.
Chris gave me a pained look, and said it was just as well for the moment
 

 

Old Fashioned Women

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I admit, I do like the Victorian era. At least, I like the books that come from that period. Tha ladies with their fabulous dresses and parties and entrigues.

Mr Darcy is a nearly endlessly fascinating man. How many movies, exactly, have been made of Pride and Prejudice? and how many more will be made?

Of course, it would not be so fun to actually live in the Victorian era. The not being able to vote thing, and the obsession with propriety would wear thin in about five minutes.

But one thing about those Victorian ladies I do admire and would like to emulate in my current modern life is their ability to ‘correspond.’ Writing letters and responding to gift and invitations seemed to be a weekly, if not daily, activity for these women.

I guess I write emails at least that frequently. But letters? with STAMPS? Those are harder to achieve.

Christmas just happened, and that is the time of year when a lot of people make the effort to send a physical card and/or letter to their wide aquaintance. I think that’s a beautiful thing. It’s really wonderful to send and recieve these missives. Perhaps it is one of the old-fashioned traditions that make Christmas so special.

Getting all the envelopes and cards ready reminded me of the efforts made last year for my wedding invitations. Checking and double-checking to make sure I have all the pertinent addresses for everyone is tedious, but it is pleasant to think of all these people who have been a joy to my life.

Because of my restricted abilities right now, I am triple-checking the address list. I know I just sent out the Christmas letter, but I intend to send out a birth announcement with little Daley Daughter picture to everyone.

Since I can’t reorganize the garage (a task needing doing, but not something I can do right now), I can at least pre-adress the envelopes for the next mailing.

The combination of being so dis- abled and preparing correspondence makes me feel rather Victorian. Also, I’m drinking copious amounts of tea. Very very victorian.

Maybe I could go rent Pride and Prejudice.

Playing with Christmas toys

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So my brother Mark sent a toy to Chris for a Christmas present: a remote control helicopter. After opening the package, Chris opened it right away and was impressed that Mark had also included the batteries for the helicopter. It was put to use right away.

The presents from my family get opened on Christmas Eve, since that has been our tradition as long as I can remember. So the helicopter had star billing for that night.

As you can read in a previous post, I got a video recorder from Chris. Since I’ve been sick and Chris has been busy, we didn’t get to put these two delightful toys together until today.

General Chris said that the controls were difficult to manage, but he seemed to improve with practice.

Perhaps the next exercise will include the cat.

UPDATE: Lucy Dog recognizes herself in the video, and will bark at her recorded barkings. Maybe it will take a while for her to get used to being a movie star.

January 2009 has arrived! Happy New Year!

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I consider the greeting of the new year an obligation to practice living the exciting life I want to have. I -always- try to do -something-.

Not this year. I went to bed at eight. And woke up every hour thereafter. Except for midnight. Chris came and shook me awake to say “Happy Birthday!” and hand me a present.

I smiled and said “Happy New Year!” I wouldn’t open the present because it’s nice to have a pretty wrapped present to contemplate opening for a while.

Of course, I couldn’t fall back asleep after that. I woke up and went to sit in the living room. I had my book, and Chris was reading a reference book about ships. It was very quiet.

Not much later he asked me if I felt older. He squeezed my arm to see if I felt older to him. I said, “I’m mostly glad it’s January.”

“That’s right! By the end of this month, you will definitely not be pregnant anymore!”

“I know! I’m looking forward to it.”

So, I’m up and having a midnight snack of Chicken Ramen noodles, my mainstay against sore throaty colds. The salt cauterized the wound of my throat and the hot water is always nice. Maybe I’ll be able to sleep again after I finish it.

Looking forward to this new month, and to the new year. It will be great.