No, for real. I’m posting.

I know, it’s been a while. But since someone bullied shamed gently coaxed me, I’m finally updating my blog.

Honestly, facebook is so much easier. I don’t have the pressure to commit to it. People think I’m funny on facebook. When I post here, I sit and wonder, “will they understand my weird sense of humor?” “Will they like me? I mean, really, really, like me?” My friends on facebook are mostly weirdos like me who laugh at my dry humor and the foolish things my husband and I do-like yelling “get my children outta here!” like Miss Sophia in the Color Purple before starting the microwave. But this post isn’t about my weirdness or my love of facebook (I’ve been a member since 2005! How crazy is that?), it’s about my new commitment to post once a week in order to satisfy the masses (aka the four people reading).

So here’s the deal. Y’all can count on at least one weekly post. Two, if I feel particularly poetic. I warn you, these posts may be random (like me) and just flow with my train of thought (also random in making connections). If you’re a new reader, welcome. If you’re one of the Faithful Four, thanks for sticking around!

Long time, no post

Hello folks! It’s been a while. First, thank you to everyone who commented on the last post. Second, how excited are you about fall? Although I can’t partake in my usual fall activities (high heel boots, pumpkin spice lattes) because of the baby, I’m still hyped about my favorite season.

Not only does fall bring the changing leaves and cool weather, this fall marks my
30th birthday! My day was spent at work doing payroll, but my sweet husband slipped a card under my pillow before I woke up. He got me a MAC giftcard, which is huge because he hates when I wear makeup. My parents, grandmother, aunts, and cousins had taken us out to celebrate the Saturday before-my little brother and I are a week apart, so the dinner was for us both. We went to see Taken 2 on Columbus Day, and I got cake at work the day after payroll…and that was pretty much all of my birthday festivities. Do I feel any different? Not really. My world didn’t spontaneously combust at the moment I turned thirty, like so many twenty-somethings think. I’ve been trying to be more responsible though-more disciplined in my spending, actually paying down the debt I’ve been bsing about paying for so long, being more loving and patient with my family…just trying to be a better, more mature version of myself. I think having kids has definitely contributed to that. I want to be a good example. I want to be able to give them a yard to play in and their own bedrooms, and I can’t do that with debt hanging over me. After all these years of talking about it, I’m finally going to be about it.

In other news, I’m super excited about homecoming. Compared to other schools, our homecoming is pretty wack. We don’t even have a football team anymore (homecoming is basketball season now), but I’ll be glad to see my old friends and show off my big round baby belly, lol.

And now for the moment you’ve all been waiting for: Baby G the Sequel!

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Me and my belly

Our little BOY is due in March!

#31 Day Reset

In an effort to find new blogs, I stumbled across Happy Black Woman and the 31 day  reset your life challenge. Since becoming a mom, a  stay at home one at that-I’ve kind of lost my footing in the world. I figured a life reset would be a way for me to get back on track to the me I used to be, or even better: an upgraded, more focused and confident me.

Day 1’s task was to choose a journal, mantra, and song. While it’s easier for me to do the assignments on the computer, I did find a journal around the house. I chose Jilly from Philly’s “Golden” as my theme song (every hero’s got to have theme music).

While I will be sharing some of my thoughts and parts of the assignments, I think the best way for me to do the reset is to focus inward. Every few days, I’ll post something new or worth sharing. Hopefully in 31 days, I’ll be the me I want to be!

Cutting out the stress

Shortly after my “episode,” I cut my hair. Like, the same day. I had been unraveling my locs while i was in the hospital, since I was supposed to have my hair done that afternoon anyway. My hairdresser came over to my house and cut what was left of my locs off and dyed my hair back to my “summer color,” Honey Blonde.

I was feeling bored with my locs. Also, the new style was just too much to maintain in order to have it looking the way it was supposed to. I knew I didn’t have the funds or time to keep up with locs anymore, so I cut them. My husband cut his too–he was actually planning to cut his, but I beat him to it. So now we’re two short haired people.

I like my short hair most days. I’ve never had hair this short…like teeny weeny afro short. I went from a perm, to a weave, to a Victoria Beckham short cut, to micro braids, to a huge ‘fro for a day, to locs. I hadn’t seen my own natural hair since 8th grade. Now I’m re-learning its textures. The big, straight-ish, poof I had in fifth grade is really a bunch of tight curls. I’m still trying to figure out which products work best, but I like being able to jump in the shower, wash my hair, and go. I’m sure as it gets longer the routine may be a little more challenging, but I’m up for it. I’m hoping that it will eventually look like this:

But we’ll see.

The First Few Days

After my son was born, they moved him to the other side of the room. My mom, husband, and best friend went to look at him while the doctor stitched me up. She said it would only take 3 stitches, but she lied. She also said the general anesthetic would numb the area, but again, she lied. So I felt each prick of her needle while I tried to concentrate on the little miracle the placed in my arms. My mom cried. My husband cried. My best friend cried. I, however, was too tired to cry. They moved me to a recovery room and took the baby to the NICU. The family headed home to rest, share the pictures they took, and tell everyone that the golden child had arrived.

The nurses kept coming to check my sugar every two hours. I kept pretending to be asleep. I snuck out of the maternity ward (well, not really–I didn’t see anyone so I just walked to the elevators). I was going to see my son! And I did…from a wheelchair. Turns out there was a reason none of the other moms in the ward were roaming the halls. See, when you push a person out, you’re kind of tired. Your body sort of shuts down in order to build energy again. So, when I arrived at the NICU and boldly told the nurse I was there to see my son, my body boldly told me to sit down. The nurses brought me ice chips and then wheeled me in to see the baby. He was in an incubator with tubes in his nose and an IV in his arm. Seeing him hooked up to all those machines broke my heart, and I started to cry. The emotions of childbirth, plus seeing my son looking so helpless, weighed down on me and I had to return to my room.

After eating lunch and getting some of my strength back, I went down to the NICU again. Good thing I did, because these jerks had given my son formula without my permission. I fully intended to breastfeed, but hated the pump they brought to my room. They hooked me up on a high suction level, but all it did was hurt my boobs and make me sweaty. I sat next to the baby and stuck my hand in the incubator to touch him. He reached out and grabbed my finger, holding tight. Even though his eyes were closed, he knew I was there. I headed back to my room after spending some quality time with him.

My grandmother visited and read a psalm. My dad came a little later and made jokes. My husband came and took them down to the NICU so that they could view the baby on a screen privately. Only the mother and father were allowed in the NICU. My mother came a little while after, failing at all the things I had asked her to bring for the new baby, but getting me a robe and pajamas. Finally! I could roam the hospital halls with dignity again. I put on my new Calvin Klein shirt and my robe, prompting my grandmother to tell me I “look[ed] like real people.”

After my parents and grandmother left, and my husband went back to the NICU, I took a few minutes to thank God for my child. However tiny, he was here. His lungs may have struggled, but he was mine. I prayed that he would be healthy and could come home soon. I prayed that he would be taken off the machines. I closed my eyes and went to sleep, hoping no one would come take my blood for another few hours.

The next day, the baby was taken off of oxygen–he could breathe on his own! Unfortunately, the nurses decided that meant he needed a pacifier. Not only did they give him a pacifier, they attached it to a burp cloth and propped it onto his face. Thanks, NICU. Thanks for giving my breastfed baby a bottle full of formula and a pacifier. Anyway, they showed me how to feed him. They brought a Breast Friend pillow and allowed me to take him out of the incubator. They set up a huge screen around me–I suppose for my “privacy,” or maybe because they didn’t want my breast to be seen.

The NICU adventures continued. A nurse became a pain in our behinds. She told me I wasn’t breastfeeding correctly (why don’t you stay on your side of the screen, lady?), waved away my husband’s suggestion that I keep trying, and urged another nurse to “just get the bottle.” Then, as my husband stood with our son so that I could get comfortable to feed in the ONE chair by the baby’s bedside, she demanded that he sit down. “Sit! Sit down! Sit down with that baby!” My mother in law doesn’t speak to my husband like that, and she gave him life. Already angry about the formula and pacifier, he went off. I went off. I told them to just give me my child and let me go home. The other nurses turned to look at the angry “Rastafarian” couple. I calmed down first when they said they were calling the supervisor. Undeterred, my husband told the nurse to “go ahead and call.” I told him to take a walk and calm down. The supervisor came to tell me I had to calm my husband–I told her about the nurse and how she had been irking my nerves all day. My husband came back and we settled down with our son.

I finally just agreed to keep the peace with the NICU staff. I’d follow the rules they never bothered to explain, I’d listen to the nurses who told me there was no such thing as nipple confusion, or to tap my son’s foot to wake him up to eat. My main priority was getting my son home and out of that hospital.

It has been a hectic three weeks. I am still getting used to the ups and downs of motherhood, the highs and lows of married life, and how my own life has changed completely. It’s been emotional, turbulent, and a general roller coaster. Things that I thought would happen, didn’t. Things I said I’d never do, I did. Overall, I think I’ve matured a great deal in the past three weeks. I have a negative balance in my checking account, laundry has to be done daily, and I’m stressed like you wouldn’t even believe, but my son is taken care of.

When I post, I’m going to try and be as real and raw as I can be, while still keeping some elements of my life and my struggles private. I want to share my stories, but not share every single detail. What I really need is an outlet for my thoughts and feelings without criticism, guilt, or shame. Just allow me to share a little bit of the real me with you.

It’s been quite some time since I actually posted something. Since August, I’ve gotten married, gotten pregnant, and decided to get back into the blogging world. My life has changed almost completely from the way it was last year. I was worrying that I’d never get married and end up with a bunch of cats (even though they scare me terribly. Sneaky things.)  I was worrying that because I had been on birth control for so long, I’d have trouble conceiving a child. I was worrying about all the wrong things, because they all came together…all at one time.

Marriage: We had a very small ceremony at the Brooklyn city clerk’s office the day after Thanksgiving. My parents, brother, aunts, grandmother, and cousin; and his mom, sister, brother in law, and nephews came. Standing on line to go to the chapel took longer than the actual ceremony. I wore an ivory dress and a birdcage veil, he wore a suit and tie. We took a few pictures before the ceremony, and then the judge called us in.

We stood in front of the podium with our witness (his mom) and held hands. I honestly don’t remember what was said, because it all went by so quickly. He said yes I do, I said I do, we kissed, and it was over.

Married life has been good so far. I still kind of look at him in disbelief like, “Babe…we’re married. How crazy is that?” I changed my name at work, but I still have trouble remembering who I am, lol. I went to the doctor’s office for a prenatal visit and the nurse called me Mrs. G-I didn’t answer or even realize she was talking to me until she called my first name. When I called one of the benefit vendors at work and they asked my full name, I gave them my maiden name. The rep goes, “We don’t have a Tiffani W in our system, but we do have a Tiffani G…” Oh yeah, that’s me now.

Bump Watch 2011: I am 16 weeks pregnant. I think I’ve been feeling Baby move. It could just be gas, but any time Daddy comes around, I feel something weird. He makes sure to talk to Baby and kiss him/her before bed and each morning before work. He’s become so much more affectionate–I didn’t think it was possible, but he is even more lovey dovey now than he was before. He’s always asking if I took my vitamins, what we ate for the day…we even went to a Kwanzaa program at the day care center we want Baby to go to when he/she is of age. All of it is still crazy to me. I still can’t believe I’m really pregnant. Maybe the next ultrasound, where the baby actually looks like a baby (and not an Android) and we find out the sex, will make it real for me.

I’ll make more of an effort to post now. I’ve cut my hours at work in order to prepare for the baby, so I have some more time.

 

Wow, I guess the rest really was unwritten. Work, being in school, and other responsibilities have taken over my life…

-The second semester of grad school is almost done. First semester’s GPA was 3.9–this semester I doubt it will be that high. In fact, I’d be surprised if it was that high.

-My boss is out on maternity leave for a while. I think I’m going to step my game up in her absence (as her boss is still there) to start setting myself up for a promotion. No, not to take over her job–just to move up into management myself.

-I’m still awake because I’m scared to go to sleep. Not because of nightmares…but because I don’t want to flatten my “Easter curls.”

-The S/O and I have been talking about the “migration to the DMV.” Honestly, I’m really going to miss NYC if we do end up moving. The bodegas, Utica Ave., summer in the city, the fact that everything is still open at 3am. I really hope when I have kids that they’ll have a little bit of the Brooklyn swagga in them.

-I’m really excited about our cruise in August. I’ve been buying summer clothes, but it was snowing out here last week.

-Could that be the reason why leather jackets are still so expensive? I want a new one, but I haven’t found one I like at a reasonable price. I may have to get one of those no-name jackets from Square One in the mall. Or maybe the H&M one I saw that was super-thin pleather. Kidding.

-I guess I should go to sleep now, so I don’t do it in church later.

Oh, childhood…

Remember this song?

I remember my cousin teaching us the words he had learned in the teen program at camp, which went:

We didn’t start the dryer
There were socks and underwear
Flying everywhere

Or the other version:

I didn’t fart, you liar
It was just a breeze
I didn’t cut the cheese!

Ah, the memories.
Rockin’ Robin was one of our favorite hand games at school. We play with 3 girls, but it was more fun with 4. Someone always messed up.

Batman and Robin
Swingin’ in the air
Batman lost his underwear
Batman said, I don’t care
Mama’s gonna buy me a brand new pair

Somehow, as I got older the rhymes got raunchier.

Went downtown to buy a stick of butter
Saw James Brown sittin’ in the gutter
Took a piece of glass
Shoved it up his ass
Never saw a motherf^*r run so fast
Rockin’ Robin
Tweet, tway lee….

Makes me wonder what the kids are coming up with these days. I’m sure it’s much worse.