Poltergeist.

Ryan's new kitchen knife flew off the wall and stabbed me in the leg. There was a lot of blood and handwringing and I ruined a pie and dinner. If I ever needed a beer it was that night. Aside from the whole blood-thinning aspect.

I probably needed at least a stitch because it was so deep, but I didn't have a great way of getting to urgent care. 

It took awhile (days) to stop bleeding every time I did anything mildly strenuous. And then there was the day I went to work in 90+ weather and jeans and sweat kept creeping into it and stinging it like knives of fire.

It turned out that I was allergic to the adhesive paper tape I used to attach gauze to my leg, so the surrounding skin got really inflamed. I switched to large band-aids, but they removed chunks of skin every time I changed them, so now it looks really weird. The skin that had the allergic reaction is sloughing off and the scabs from the band-aids are in a funny pattern. 

Weary Pug

Today, I encountered a lady half-lying, half-sitting on the pavement, outside a pizza place. I noticed her about a block or two away, she had a funny blue mobility trike thing - not electric - next to her and a small dog.

When I first saw her, I thought she might have fallen down and was maybe unable to get up, so I made eye contact when I got near enough to her and was getting ready to ask if she needed help.

But before I could, she asked me if I had a cell phone.

The small dog was an extremely overweight elderly pug who wore a weary expression, punctuated with a tongue that he was either unable or could not be bothered, to keep in his mouth.

"My dog..my dog has dislocated his hip and I need to call my friend."

I said, "Of course." and dialed the number she gave me - she seemed not to want to take both hands off the dog and asked me to dial. She left a message for her friend, while the phone was ringing, she explained that she had a broken foot and gestured to the trike.

She left a message for her friend - I posited that her friend had not picked up because of my out of the area area code. I asked her if she needed anything else, like help getting into a chair.

"No, no. I need to be down here with him."

She patted him on the butt and he looked around wearily. I don't think he gave a shit where she was, but lying on the ground with him seemed to make her feel better.

Das Vampire

Elinor bit one of her school friends.

I was probably not the right parent, between her two parents, to be the one to deal with it with regards to the school's representative. I basically just got a little weepy and then hugged Elinor.

I'm sure they thought that was bizarre but in that moment, where I was mortified, upset, worried, anxious, and feeling vulnerable, I needed a hug and I couldn't very well ask the teacher's assistant for one.

Ryan would have probably told Elinor it was unacceptable behaviour, thanked the teacher's assistant and in general have had a much less weird reaction.

I think what made me feel so upset was that initially, when I was brought into the directors' office for a quick mention of the situation, they mentioned that she had apparently been "acting out" more.

The teacher's assistant, with whom the main meeting about it was (Elinor's teacher was out for the day), didn't mention anything like that. But all I could think after I heard "acting out" is that she is unhappy why is she unhappy is it my fault?

I asked her if she still liked going to school and she assured me she does. She's very cheerfully making pizzas with her dad right now. I have no idea why this is so emotionally overwhelming.

Blueberries.

I went blueberry picking. This is a picture of me in a blueberry field. I like it because my sunglasses, (which I bought because part of me wants to only wear huge glasses, oversized men's white dress shirts and undersized hats, possibly with a sweater vest and or a tie/silk scarf, part of me is not brave enough,

)

makes my face not look so round and huge even though it is, just like the rest of me.

God I feel huge.

Multi-level Marketing Schemes

It's slowed down a bit, but after I had Elinor and after I made friends with some mums of kids of a similar age, more and more examples of multi-level marketing schemes started popping up in my facebook feed.

At first, I was annoyed. I thought, "My goodness, these are intelligent women! Why are they falling for this crap?" 

Weird food products. Tat jewelery. Wall decals. Skin and hair care products. Essential oils (ugh). Healthy living plans. Sex toys.  

Generally, the posts from a particular person went on for a few months. And then they sort of died off. In the meantime, someone else's latest foray into the pyramid selling world would start populating my feed and I'd go through the same thought process. 

As I said, at first I was annoyed because I felt that the nature of these companies should be quite clear to anyone. Surely an organisation that asks you for a bunch of money up front and involves talking people into buying stuff should set off some kind of alarm in any semi-savvy persons head? 

And then, it made me a little sad and a little angry. Because I think I know what was actually going through their heads. You're home with tiny kids and it feels like you never have quite enough money or possibly an outlet for non-kid-related stuff. And you come across this thing that promises money, a little bit of independence but without sacrificing the time with your kids or the money it would mean to get a job, even part-time.

And these companies know that women are in this position and they take advantage of it. To take advantage of someone's desperation is predatory and wrong and also seems to be one of the motivating factors behind the way capitalism works. 

Work Party.

Ryan's department head hosts a summer party at his house every year. Elinor initially suggested that having a beach at your house was "silly". On second visit, she decided it was "silly" and a "good idea". 

I have nowhere to put my saddle.

Not to get maudlin, but I have nowhere to put my saddle and I feel like it's becoming a metaphor.

My current boss insists that all horses go in their own saddles because she is very anxious about saddle fit, which is fair to a point (I absolutely hate Bandy's saddle, never buy a Schleese). I do wish that my boss had made provisions for employees needing to keep riding stuff at the barn. I have to bring it back and forth every week and Rachel, who is there everyday, keeps her stuff in the office. So, my saddle sits at home and has done for a long time. It was in Elinor's closet along with my (more self-pity:) nice dresses. Now the closet needs to be used and my nice dresses have all been packed away and I have nowhere to put my saddle.

Marie Kondo would probably tell me to get rid of the dresses and maybe the saddle because both things just make me sad right now. But Marie Kondo is kind of full of shit on a lot of things.

Right now, my saddle is just getting moved around the house. I don't want to put it downstairs because it will get ruined. I don't want to put it in the loft at work because I don't have a good enough cover for it. If it were something of Ryan's that was just floating around the house, I would be so annoyed about it. I am annoyed about it, but not as much as I might be.

But yes, I have nowhere to put my saddle because I have to make room for this baby and I barely had room for it when I just had Elinor. And it kills me that the trajectory of my life changed so dramatically when I had a child and Ryan's trajectory did not.

Doughnuts

I have a confession to make. 

I do not care for doughnuts. 

I mean, I don't hate them, I just...don't think they're that great. I am only tempted by them if they are very fresh. 

Breech Baby

I found out today that the baby is still breech. My midwife assigned me to do these weird poses for 20 minutes per day.

I can't do 20 minutes. It's unbearable. I managed 10 today.

Moxibustion and acupuncture were also suggested and now I'm facing a question I had only thought about theoretically prior to now. Exactly how far down the woo-woo path am I willing to go to attempt to avoid major surgery?

It's one thing to contort myself on my couch at home, it's quite another to have to go to a place, pay, politely grin ("Am I doing this right? Am I convincing them that I don't think this is total hokum?"), nod and listen to nonsense while someone lights a candle next to my toe.

While Ryan is in Hell

Ryan is currently in Hell. My parenting may be called into question while he's gone. I let her eat Cheerios for dinner this evening and earlier I found this on the floor of my kitchen:

"My hair was too long."

I allowed her to sleep in my bed last night as a "treat" and did you  know that a 30lb small child can take up more room on the room than a 40lb dog? or a 160lb human? 

A Toaster Oven Story

I fell victim tp my toaster oven's stupid "turn past off if you'd like to unknowingly burn the shit out of your toast" function.

I am feeling quite close to getting rid of it.

My mother did the most cliche meddling mother-of-an-adult-daughter thing you could do.

She came to visit for a few weeks and then about a week after she left, a toaster oven I did not order arrived on my porch. She had gone home, decided I needed a toaster and then purchased it without asking me or Ryan. It did not occur to her that possibly the reason we did not own a toaster oven was because we, perhaps, did not want one.  

And she said nothing to us on the trip. No, "I wish you guys had a toaster oven" or "How do you get by without a toaster oven?" 

(In case you are wondering: we made toast in the cast iron skillet) 

Anyway. 

Not only did we not want a toaster oven, the toaster oven she bought was not the toaster oven I would have bought were I trying to buy one. 

First of all, it's huge. We do not have the counter space for it, so when we do use it, we have to get it out, plug it in, use it and then put it away. 

Second: 

That "stay on" nonsense. If you are careless, and turn off the toaster "too much" you will leave the toaster oven on. And maybe burn the shit out of a piece of toast you'd left in there, because it didn't fit on the plate but you thought you or your daughter might want it in a little while. 

It's been circulating in my mind that I maybe could do without this object in my life. It certainly doesn't spark joy of any kind and just reminds me of the resentment that I have towards my mother for doing this nice thing that was also very weird and a bit rude, not to mention annoying. 

You don't go to someone's house and then order them appliances you think they need, the day you get home. 

Ryan's trip to Hell.

Ryan is getting sent on a business trip next week. He leaves Saturday. I've been hearing about it for a while now, small pieces of what the trip will be like.

I put it all together yesterday and realised he might actually be getting sent to hell. The desert in the middle of July, 50 miles from the nearest grocery store, him and the religious guy from work, working night shifts - 6pm to 6am. 

If he told me they were piping "The Night Chicago Died" and that one song by Chuck Mangione on repeat into the facility, at this point, it wouldn't surprise me.

...

I just asked him if that might be the case and he said there's no facility; they'll be running the experiments outside. Small mercies. No Chuck Mangione. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V7dg8vRDM68&feature=youtu.be&t=15s

My neighbour sucks.

"Alice your neighbor is 100% right - now it's America's turn to leave the European Union. God it just makes so much sense"

-My friend, Jon.

Trip back to Ithaca

We went back to Ithaca this last weekend for a wedding and saw a lot of our friends. It was a bittersweet weekend and I kept getting teary and a little angry at Ryan who doesn't think he can find the right job there. I told him it was awful that he was trying so hard to make getting back to California work but seemingly unwilling to work that hard to get back to Ithaca. Sure the job market might be better in the bay area, but I don't want to live in the bay area. It's full of the same people that live here, in Massachusetts.

I'm fairly certain it's possible, we just have to want it enough to make it work.

Maybe I'm being too selfish, but I feel like after eight years of Ryan's work dictating where I live, I need to be a little more demanding or I'm going to be miserable.

Essential oils to prevent Zika.

I think it may be possible that there are going to be children born with microcephaly due to people using essential oils instead of real mosquito repellent.

It's really horrifying to think about.

Living in Massachusetts.

I live in Massachusetts now. I have been here for a year and a half and I still have to use spell check when writing out Massachusetts. I think my lack of motivation for actually learning how to spell the name of the state in which I live is a clue: I do not love it here.

I have yet to meet anyone with whom I'd like to pursue a meaningful friendship with.

Telling your husband you're pregnant again.

Yesterday, I stumbled across an article that was called something like "20 ways to tell your husband you're pregnant again."

I can't actually locate it again, so I can't actually link to it, but if you are curious, I'm sure google will help you with finding similar. They were ideas like, "Put your kid in a set of pyjamas that say something about it and have him put the kid to bed."

During my search for that stupid article, I found a pinterest page of ways to announce it to the world including SEVERAL pictures of a presumably first born holding a sign that said,

"Only child expiring August 2014".

Um. Condolences? Is this really a nice way to tell them?

Do you want to know what I did, when I found out I was pregnant again?

I took the test, walked out of the bathroom, lay flat out on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Ryan walked in, I gave him a withering look and said, "Look." and showed him the test.

It never occurred to me to surprise him.

This baby was not entirely unplanned but I also would have been perfectly comfortable to not have another one. I was actually ambivalent about going through the whole thing a second time. Ryan wasn't. So, half of me plus a whole Ryan outvoted (I guess?) the other half of me. That half was freaking out a little bit on the bed that day. That same part that spends an inordinate amount of time trying to understand other people's motivations instead of just ignoring them.

"But WHY do they want to go to the mall?"

"But WHY do they go to the toilet together?"

"But WHY are they eating that terrible food?"

"But WHY is he buying Kraft Lite Singles (TM) and stool softener?"

Oh wait, I know the answer to that last one.

I also told Elinor right away, which surprised some people. How horrible to have parents who would keep something like that from you. Even if I had a miscarriage, even if it was devastating (it wouldn't have been), in fact _especially_ if it was devastating, why would you not tell your child? It just seems like exactly the kind of thing parents are for: teaching your kid about the world.

Gertrude was talking to Hamlet about a woman.

A facebook friend posted the following:

There comes a point in life when fun no longer means clubbing, drinking or being out till 4am, or thinking about yourself! Fun means Disney movies, family dinners, bedtime stories, long cuddles, a messy house, sleeping by 10pm and hearing little voices say “I love you.” Becoming a parent doesn’t change you, it makes you realize that the little people that YOU created deserve the very best of your time. Repost if you get it. I hope I see this on the wall of every Mother and Father I know. 

I find this sort of thing really unhelpful: it enforces some kind of crazy ideal (that seems rather un-ideal to me) that we are all supposed to sacrifice our whole selves and further more enjoy the sacrifice, when we have kids. Additionally, this kind of "in-crowd" statement is unhelpful and only serves to further alienate people (seemingly on purpose) and create this false dichotomy of the "parents" (responsible, sacrificing, wholesome) and the "non-parents" (irresponsible, selfish, immature).

That's not to say I don't see equally irritating posts from the non-parent faction. Both have their "ladies* who doth protest too much**"

*Not that it's all ladies, in fact the idiot who posted the above is actually male. It's just that Gertrude was talking to Hamlet about a woman.
**Who are you really trying to convince about your life choices? Because facebook doesn't care and we all, on some level, know that. 

That gum you like...

Twin Peaks is coming back!

Black lentils. Polenta. Woody Allen.

I made this black lentil dish last night. I used Trader Joe's European Style Yoghurt instead of greek because Trader Joe's European Style Yoghurt is delicious.

Also: I have been watching the Frugal Gourmet on YouTube and Hulu. Please don't read the Wikipedia article about Jeff Smith: it is giving the same complex that Woody Allen films do, except I'm not really that interested in watching Woody Allen films in the first place* and I do enjoy the Frugal Gourmet. I console myself with thinking he's probably not making any money off of me watching and he's dead.

Anyway. I saw him make lasagne with polenta and now I want to try it. BUT. I have never successfully made polenta that held its shape. This idea has convinced me that it may be worth trying again. I mean, the worst that can happen is I end up with cornmeal mush, and I like that.

*"What makes Annie Hall a great movie is that after watching it for an hour and a half, you check the time and realize it's only actually been playing for thirty minutes. "That's enough for me," you say, and then you've got another hour to your day that you thought you had wasted watching Woody Allen! Mazel tov!" - My friend Michael.