Wrap your head with this material...

Know what's awesome about birthdays? Um, everything. I went for a morning swim today. For my birthday, I allowed myself to be late to work and staff meeting so that I could be weightless and wonderful for a half an hour. It was worth it. I thought about all the birthdays I've swam on. Which is most of them. (My birthday's at the end of freakin July. Its hot. And I love swimming.) The year I swam hard and fast laps in St. Louis before I ended up getting drunk enough to ask my husband out. Before he was my husband I mean. Before he was anything but my friend. And being my friend was huge. But friend crushes are scary. I remember I heard a song in the gym pool that morning that made me think of him. I had planned to out myself and my crush and the morning swim helped me fortify myself in my plan. Or the years when I was a kid and would go to the town pool. I remembered the year I went with girlfriends to a water park. Its been a lot of good birthdays. I have s...

Ever think about what rules you follow and why? I do. Sometimes I really want to break rules just because I'm in that sort of fuck-the-system mood. Which is weird since I work for the system. Sometimes anyway. I generally follow driving rules because I think they're based on safety and I'm scared of dying in the car. It seems like a really likely place for death. It certainly factored in to my decision to have a homebirth. I didn't want to put my 10-minute old child whose bones haven't calcified into a deathtrap and drive home. Just seems like dangerous to me. But then other people feel like its dangerous to have a baby at home. As in NOT in a hospital. Its such an assumption. Everyone just assumes they'll have a baby there. And that you'll have your baby at a hospital and that I'll have my baby at a hospital. But I'm not really planning on going to the hospital. I'm planning on pacing my house and listening to music and cutting up vegetables and...

I like peeling things. Sunburn, paint. One time pepto spilled behind a shelf in my bathroom and I didn't find it until god-knows-how-long-afterwards and it was a solid piece of pink stuff that you could pick up. I took pictures and posted it. I think it was on myspace though. Seems like a lifetime ago. I like peeling the lint from the dryer. The other day when Rob was doing crap in his mancave/the garage, he came inside and handed me an old paint tray. There were about 4 layers of blue latex paint that had dried and you could peel the whole thing in one sheet. He said he pictured my face ahead of time, knowing how excited I'd get to peel it. When I was a kid I would get really excited to get things in the mail. Even if it was junk mail. Just seeing my name in print on an envelop was exciting. I'd read whatever it was. Now I'm more selective. I don't get exciting mail a lot. Usually just bills and statements and netflix. The netflix is a little exciting. It d...

"For once, somebody may call me "Sir" without adding, "... you're making a scene."" "Felt like there was more flopping than usual in this mornings ESPN World Cup coverage... then I realized I was watching Bassmasters." "A day off with a migraine is like the first day at fat camp." "Do you have me on speaker phone or are you in the bathroom... you're calling me while you're taking a shit right now aren't you?" Bad Librarian Pickup Line "Do you have any overdue books, because you have fine written all over you."

Ever lay on the couch and watch crap for so long that when you stand up, your perception is all off and it makes your eyeballs feel funny? Like they're on sideways. I was at the police station today watching an interrogation and it was kinda like that. Only with more nausea involved. On account of the angle of the cameras and the weird way the digital images didn't flow but jerked. And the echo. En espanol. It was a little surreal. And nauseating. But I mentioned that. The deal is the guy was accused of touching a four year old. Which is why I was watching the interrogation. He denied it of course. Its no fair being four. Or three or two. You can't tell a story with a beginning, middle, and end. Its like your stories have their eyes on sideways and can't get out the whole in your throat. And none of us can be sure of your story when its all Alice-in-wonderlandy. The story's true, its just hard to see how the parts fit together. Cops want me to have t...

My whole life, I've heard the story of my cousin Anna's birth. And her sister's too. But I hear more about Anna's. My aunt didn't exactly have a lot of love for the medical profession. And her first baby had been a horrible experience. She'd had him wrenched from her at least as much as she "gave him up" for adoption by nursing staff who leered at her and called her unpleasant names. And she loved him when he was born. And she found him when he turned 18 and loved him till the day she died. When she had kids for keeps, she did it differently. She read books and assigned duties and had them at home. She was brave and surely faced many people who disagreed with her decision. But she stuck by her convictions and her desire for a natural birth and won 2 beautiful girls. My mom was there when Anna was born. So was her sister, Kristina. They both still get this sparkle in their eyes whenever they talk about it. My mom says it was one of the most ...

Ok, I just realized that made my mom sound like someone she's really not. She didn't say the you're-so-huge comment because she's a mean and nasty lady or because she's overly concerned about weight or looks or anything. She made plenty of comments about me looking healthy and happy and other nice-junk. She was clearly thrilled to see me and had hyped herself up about it for a month. She also constantly rubbed my belly and told the baby how many people love shim. And she's right. I'm freakin huge.

Know that scene where the Grinch's heart grows 3 times its size? That's what my belly did this month. Its obscene. My mom took one look at me and said she wasn't this big when she had my brother. Which is frightening since I'm not due until 9/9. Come to think of it, the grinch has a decidedly round belly. Wonder if that's what made his heart grow? Having to pump a shit-ton of blood to something taking over his abdomen. Oh well, at least I'm enjoying mine. Mine moves. My dad felt it today. Happy Father's Day!

So during our trip we made a stop over to Guatemala to visit Tikal . We stayed in the national park at my request because I wanted to wake up in the jungle and hear the howler monkeys and see spider monkeys and do a sunrise tour of the ancient city of Tikal . We arrived to Tikal in the afternoon on a Wednesday and ate at the hotel. The dining area was open and airy and you could see out to the well manicured gardens in the surrounding area. As we were eating, I freaked out when I saw this wandering around. I freaked and went and got my camera and stalked him until my food was cold, trying desperately to get a picture with his face in it. Apparently, coatimundis usually go about in family groups but this old guy was a strange loner and he was really only interested in termites. So most of the time he was either trying to get away from the giant pregnant lady (who was trying to squat and take a picture) or burying his nozzle in a mound of insects. We made our arrangements for a tour t...

Last night my husband decided it would be funny to call me a snuggle whore. I was all, "Did you just call me a whore?" And he was like "A snuggle whore." "So, you're seriously calling your 6 month pregnant wife a whore?" Then he looked even more pleased with himself and has now decided to call me a "pregnant, snuggle whore." Speaking of whores, when I was a kid they were everywhere. Gypsy whores specifically. I don't know where my mother and grandmother's obsession with gypsy whores came from, but it was the reason to tone down your fashion a lot. As in, you can't wear dangly earrings (my favorite to this day) because those are for Gypsy whores. As in, little girls shouldn't have red nailish polish because they'll look like Gypsy whores. As in, red and pink or red and purple don't match and if you wear that outfit you'll look like a gypsy whore. As in, Gypsy whore bath, which is where you take a bird bath in the s...

Ever make soup and then get a cold and think, "dang, what a good thing I made soup!" That happened to me this week. Did you know hemorrhoids are actual vericose veins in your ass? That's your gross and generally unimportant information for the day. Thank you pregnancy websites for teaching me all I simply must know to have a baby. Ever poop green? Of course you do. I always want to tell someone when it happens. Why is that? I never do though. Which is weird because I tend to say everything I think. Or as it turns out, almost everything. I don't want to talk about the baby thing lately. Someone very close to me had a miscarriage. Almost exact same story as mine. Same no symptoms/concerns. Almost the same date. 12 weeks instead of 11. I can't stop thinking about her. I'm terrified for her to go through everything I did. I hate thinking that she might be sobbing uncontrollably and unexpectedly at a time when she should get to be happy. I hate thinking how I spe...

I think its really funny when people fart in their sleep. I woke myself up the other night snoring. I didn't used to snore. Its like my body held onto that flaw until I got married. I'd lived with someone before too. But it never started until I was married. Like somewhere in my psyche I thought I wouldn't be marriage material with snoring. But now, fuck it, I guess. There's no point caring if you snore. But when I was 18, I bet I would've been embarrassed about snoring. You get embarrassed about weird shit when you're 18. Or 21. One of my friends had her first baby when she was 21. She was really concerned about getting waxed before the birth because she didn't want anyone to see her yoni all gnarly and hairy. I thought that was funny. It just wouldn't have occurred to me that anyone would pay any attention to that during birth. I mean, I don't want things getting all george-of-the-jungle down there, but if they do, again, fuck it. Wh...

"Stop trying so hard. He doesn't like you. Jesus, don't kiss an ass if it's in the process of shitting on you." "M has very few life skills. One of them includes being able to tell when a person just got a haircut." "I was making dinner. I asked M to get the cookie sheet. He runs out of the kitchen and comes back and says... 'Mom, I checked the closet. We don't have any sheets with cookies on them!" ' "I dreamt I was a large African American woman married to someone Big Black's size. We slept on 2 beds: a full size and queen size pushed up against each other." "OMG, what if you got this from a dirty unicorn whore. Have you been soliciting unicorn eye fucking in back alleys? I think its time to evaluate the safety of your decisions, Gina. I mean, just because it has one horn and wants to poke you in the eye, doesn't mean you should let it. It could be a transequineism. You know where horses dress up in trashy u...

I was in a meeting this morning and got sidetracked and told the director of Social Services that I'm creeped out by body builders. (sorry if you're a body builder, but you're orange and greasy and I just don't get it.) Then I side tracked myself further by saying that I'm creeped out, BUT I would really like to do a pull up on one of their arms. You know while they've got it all flexed in the air? My coworker pointed out that it would be slippery because of all the baby oil and I told her "That's part of the challenge, Wendy." I'm totally getting promoted. Except now when I searched for pictures of bodybuilders to add some sparkle to this lurvely post, I picked this picture. Which totally made me remember that there are black bodybuilders too who could not possibly be made orange and now I'm racist. Shit. I'm sorry to black bodybuilders everywhere. You are not as creepy as white bodybuilders which is still probably racist but ...

Its wild how you can share these incredibly intimate moments with people you don't really know. Whether its the song you sing to me and the way you can carry me around on stage and I can feel my soul bouncing off walls and through amps and fingertips when we've never even shared a name. Or the person who caught me when I was about to pull into oncoming traffic when the horn beeped to snap me to and I owe this person whose eyes I've never connected to their breath so much for my in tact ribs. Or the person who inserts an IV on the scene to never be met conscious by a patient who dreams their way through these moments of intimacy. And I wonder, does the person know how they've touched someone? Does the singer know I felt her voice? Does the slap feel the sting like my face? Because we all see the same gathering drops on a window and feel the rain is alone with us. We all construct our personalities from a mix of junk that we see sitting around. Something an older brothe...

Last year for Mother's Day we went out to breakfast and had a great time. A couple of days later is when I found out the baby was dead. I have really mixed emotions about being wished a Happy Mother's Day this year. The baby moves every day and Rob even felt it for the first time on Friday night. I'm happy about it and not all that worried. But still, it makes me kind of want my mommie.

You ever notice how much we downplay fun? If someone's talking about a really good time they had, their eyes crease with joy and they get all lit up about it but if there's something serious going on, they'll excuse themselves for talking about something trivial. I wonder if the trivial thing isn't the serious one. If focusing on the whimsy and joy of the little things is really what makes for the spread of benevolence and joy. And isn't that meaningful? Is there anything more meaningful? Next time you throw a water balloon or see a funny movie or go sledding or play a joke on a friend or make a child giggle, tell me what's really important.

I had my first seizure when I was 21. I didn't know it was a seizure at the time. It just seemed all foggy and confusing and then I could hardly move. For hours. I went to the ER hours later because of how I could hardly move. I couldn't walk on my own, really. I was too weak. We waited in the ER for a long time when I unexpectedly felt fine. We went home. Over the next several months I went through MRIs, EEGs, EKGs, glucose tolerance testing and much more. I was diagnosed with epilepsy and put on meds. I lost 1/3 of my hair. I had seizures 3 and 4 times a day. Even on meds. Which made me feel drunk and on an emotional rollercoaster. Oh, and did I mention I was 21 and losing my hair? Cuz being a bald woman is something that is bigger and scarier than it sounds. Is it as bad as being quadrapeligic? Of course not. But its no small thing. I tried different meds. My hair stopped falling out. But I was still an emotional mess and I still had seizures. After months ...

My hommie Dean called me and left a message once with another friend of ours singing "Let's go surfin' now." I still have it saved. This weekend he turned 30. He left me a message saying "Karin. Its Dean. I'm turning old this weekend. Yeah, 30. I'm gonna need to see you this weekend and throw water baloons at you. I've got goals, Karin. Goals." I met up with him on Sunday. We saw Pato Banton (see also kickass Reggae,) for free in the beautiful sunshine. Pato dedicated a song to the preggos. And I stood next to some deaf folks and got to thinking how they must experience the vibrations of a concert. Made me really feel connected to the parasite. I started thinking about that song dedicated to shim and how it was all bouncing around in fluid to the vibrations of reggae and it just felt so good. Next thing you know the show's over and Dean's running around in the snow trying to fly a kite. Afterwards a bunch of friends played...

Here's some advice I plan to follow with regard to giving my children things to drink. Give water. Nurse. Feed fruit. Rinse. Repeat. No juice. Never. I mean it. Not until the kid's old enough to decide to spend pocket change on a chocolate bar vs. soda vs. juice vs. all the other things they shouldn't be having but we all do. Meaning, when my child is old enough to have pocket change. To go to the store and spend it and make change and make bad decisions they have to begin living with all on their own. In other news, I felt the parasite move. MOVE! It was the most excitingest thing ever. Seriously, I couldn't focus on a thing afterwards and just kept coming up to Rob (who was trying to play his banjo) and saying "The baby moved, Rob. It MOVED!" Wander the house, attempt to read, rinse, repeat "The baby moved, Rob. It MOVED!" It was so awesome. Little thumps, not rhythmic and I don't know where they come up with flutters, thumps. ...