Tight

Look, it's not that I'm not sympathetic. I understand that every generation, or every decade anyway, has its fashion nightmares that the wearers will later look back upon in horrified disbelief. I was there for neon scarves, banana clips, and those t-shirts that changed colour where you sweat. I know that there is a certain force to fads and they have a life of their own, encouraging people who would otherwise know better to fall in line and do something they may later regret (or, at least, I sincerely hope they will later regret it).

But I can't be silent any longer. This trend has got to die. Please, people, please... please stop wearing those tight jeans that barely hold onto your ass and push all possible fat deposits up above the waistband to make rolls.

This is where my understanding and sympathy breaks down. Because while I can grok the idea that girls feel a lot of pressure to fit in and wear what everyone else is wearing, what I can't get is how anybody looks into the mirror and thinks, "Aw yeah, that looks awesome." It so, so does not. This fashion trend can take the most average-weighted person and make them look like they are carrying fifteen extra pounds around their waist. It takes girls who are skinny and makes them look like they have a spare tire. It takes girls who are average and makes them look fat. Let's not go into what it does to girls who really are carrying extra pounds. And it makes all of them look like they are about to lose their drawers around their ankles.

I should note that it's not the appearance of looking bigger than they are that I object to. Of course women of all shapes and sizes have their own personal beauty that is not at all dependent on conforming to society's idea of the correct body shape. I think and hope that, perhaps, we are finally evolving past the notion that we all have to look a certain way or be a certain size in order to be acceptable.

It's the fact that the look is so universally unflattering that stumps me. It doesn't look good on anyone. It makes every single person who sports it look like they can't figure out if their clothes fit them or not. This is made worse by the idea that these ass-jeans have to be paired with a tight spandex top that may or may not actually reach down to the top of the jeans. I swear if I never see another person trying to rock this look it would make me happy, but since I see at least ten a day I don't hold out much hope for it ending soon.

Is it such a crazy notion to just wear clothes that fit you? Just wear ones that fit. That's all I ask, people. Take a good look in the mirror, realize how awful this look is, and wear clothes that fit you. It's for the good of humanity, as well as my own personal sanity.

Today was payday, otherwise known as "coffee and muffins day". We have a great little coffee place downtown which is sadly not open on weekends, so any indulgences have to be done Monday to Friday. They make an ambrosia muffin that is to die for; pineapple and coconut goodness with a sweet pineapple glaze on top, and it's low fat too. I would choose that one even if it wasn't better for me, which is convenient because their other offerings include things like chocolate cheesecake muffins and homemade granola bars which are really just vehicles for gooey sweet stuff with raisins and chocolate chips. Their coffee is excellent, too. I sadly was unable to have an ambrosia muffin this morning as they were all out, and settled for a vastly inferior gingerbread, but there is always next Coffee and Muffins Day to look forward to... and now, having said that, I feel like a giant dork loser.

Today was also our Super Activity Day - ballet and swimming, both activities fitting snugly around a short dinner hour (or, more accurately, dinner forty-five minutes). L looks forward to this day all week. She had a great time at both activities, and her ballet teacher told me that she did a decent job listening today, which is a bit of an issue with L at times and is even more of a challenge right now as she has a friend in ballet class this year and there is much squealing and running to be done. Her swim class is working out great so far. There are only three kids in her group, but one of them refuses to actually get into the water, so L is getting a lot of time to work on her moves. She had earned her first badge a while back, but had to start over as she was too long away from lessons and started to get nervous about it all again. She is being a trooper, though, and has her usual constant smile as she is in the pool and complains loudly when it's over ("It's too short! It was only one second long!").

There are a million things I should be doing. Instead, I'm sitting here watching my tummy move as the baby goes through whatever manoeuvres s/he seems to feel are necessary.

So awesome... I got the ultimate old-timey parental experience tonight. I got to open the front door and yell out my kid's name and then "Supper!"

School has brought with it a lot more independence, and so far it's all good. I notice that she is less bored when there is nothing concrete to do; she is a lot more likely to find something to do by herself without needing input from me. And she goes and gets the things she wants to do, and when she's done, she puts them all away without being asked. It's out of this world. I have heard from many people that kids become different people once they start school. I would definitely not say this is the case so far; L is still herself, just as sweet and smart and earnest as before. All the changes so far have been good ones. I really hope this continues.

We have tickets to the Wiggles next month, those money-grubbing a-holes, and we are looking forward to it so much.

I took our younger cat, Cricket, to the vet today. Cricket has some ongoing issues with allergic reactions, and needs a shot every once in a while to tell his immune system to calm the frak down already. We always know it's time for a shot since he starts licking the fur off his belly, getting red around the mouth, and scratching himself in random spots until he bleeds. This can come anywhere from two or three months to two or three weeks since the last shot - there doesn't seem to be any pattern at all. So I brought him in, and we had our usual epic battle to get him into the cat carrier. He's a pretty dumb creature, but he's smart enough to know what the cat carrier means, so I hid it in the hallway and went in to pick him up from his sleeping spot in our room. He started howling as soon as I picked him up, and when I actually tried to put him in the carrier, he was hanging on to everything around him with his claws like we were characters in a slapstick comedy. He howled in his usual ungodly fashion the entire time he was in there. He seems to have recovered now, though. Our older cat, Teddy, hasn't had to go to the vet for a couple of years, but now that I've said that, of course, I'm sure he'll develop something expensive by tomorrow afternoon.

And now I have to go do dishes again, because that shit just never ends.

The Beat Goes On

L is getting into a routine of going to school, but I am seeing some changes in her. She is more tired during the day, but at the same time needs more exercise as she is getting antsy having to sit at a desk so much. The gym time is helping, but not completely. Most days we go to the park after school, and she spends some time on the playground, and lately she has also been very taken with skipping so that is helping too. Yesterday I let her go out by herself while I was making supper, and she skipped and drew with chalk for about an hour and a half before it was time to come in. She was in and out all that time, obviously feeling very important for being able to do so, and it really brought home how much she is growing up. I don't wish she wouldn't, but I do wish that maybe it was happening a little more slowly.

She's also a lot more irritable. The attitude has been ramping up as well. It was upsetting me at first, but then I realized that she is going through a pretty big series of changes right now and needs to be cut some slack. So we are just reminding her, when necessary, about the importance of staying calm and using words to express her feelings instead of shouting/stomping, etc., and generally trying to understand that this is a pretty huge time for her.

For us, too. We are adjusting, but it's been uphill. And I am getting more uncomfortable every day. This baby has a way of moving that is less about the joyfulness of new life than I would prefer, and s/he can stop kicking me in the bladder pretty much anytime. I am getting big, and I am getting kicked, and I am having all sorts of aches and pains and the days that are humid make my ankles slowly puff up like a foam mattress pad finally released from its cardboard box prison. I had a doctor's appointment the other day and everything seems to be going well, though. I have to have another ultrasound at 32 weeks to make certain everything is ok (more of the extra tests necessary because of my extreme decrepit age) and that should be fun as the baby will be much easier to see than on the last one. The doctor asked me if I have been having any cravings and I lied and said no. I didn't think he wanted to hear about my longings for junior chicken sandwiches and fries from McDonald's, even if I am not indulging them.

We have a lot of changes going on. Maybe I can be forgiven being cranky too.

First Day of the Rest of Her Life

Yesterday was L's first day of school. I had been mired in Bittersweet Bog for most of the week leading up to it, with brief forays into Worrying Woods and Possibilities Pond, but mostly I was just sad. L's favourite musical group, Imagination Movers, has a song about the first day of school, and it repeated in my head on a torturous loop all week, made bearable only by the fact that I knew the reassurance of the song had actually really helped L to come to terms with being away from home all day.

I made the decision last week that I would bring her home for lunch, at least for the first couple of months, and once I did that I felt quite a bit easier in my mind about it. All day was just too long for her to be away, and there was the added worry of wondering if she would be ok at lunchtime and manage to open her lunch, wash up properly, etc. And of course I'm aware that I'm giving her too little credit, but it's hard to accept that she'll be away from me and on her own. And she was quite nervous about the whole thing as well, and the idea of being away the whole day. Bringing her home for lunch gives both of us a much-needed break in the day.

So yesterday was her first day. I was aware that my tension was not helping her, so I made a great effort in the days leading up to it to remain positive about the whole thing. L had a lot of questions the night before ("What do I do if I can't peel my banana at snack time? What happens if I fall down and get hurt? What if I can't find my classroom? What if the work is too hard?" etc etc) and I did my best to answer them in a reassuring manner. She came in a few times during the night for cuddles, and I let her stay in with us, figuring that she needed the time and the contact - and so did I. The idea of dropping my baby girl off at school and leaving her there made me feel intensely anxious and sad, but once again I was glad I'd decided to bring her home at lunchtime as it really helped.

Yesterday morning, we got up and got ready, and most of L's anxieties had disappeared overnight in the face of all the excitement. We were the first ones in her classroom, so I had a chance to talk to her teacher and explain how L is already reading and to get a few of my questions answered about how things were going to work. The classroom was oppressively hot - this heat wave can give way to the inevitability of autumn any freaking time - and the fans weren't helping much. But hopefully that won't be the case for much longer. Before long I'll be sending L with sweaters and long pants. By then, I'll be dropping her off at the door instead of walking her in, and meeting her outside for lunch instead of coming to get her. It will all progress. It will all change.

But I don't want L to change. She has a beautiful exuberance and innocence that I never want to see disappear. Her enthusiasm is infectious and inspiring. I don't want to see her touched by cynicism or the surprisingly jaded attitudes of some of the kids she'll encounter. She has a true goodness that I value so highly; it would truly never occur to her to say something mean or unkind to anyone. She wouldn't ever think of making fun of someone or joining in when she sees it being done. She has a temper - don't get me wrong. She can be snippy and annoyed and dramatic - but she is never mean. When others have been mean to her, she is confused by it at the most basic of levels: what is this person saying to me? What do they mean? Are they being "not nice"? Why would they say that? That's the innocence I mean. She is truly good, in a way that I was not sure people still could be. And it's not just her age, because some of the kids who've been unkind to her have been her age or younger, and seem to have a disturbingly instinctual grasp of the politics of bullying. But it is one of the things I love most about her - this true goodness that I never want to see corrupted.

So I left my baby girl at school, and I only cried after I was out of her sight. She was smiling and excited and eager to find out about school. At lunchtime, she was enthusiastic and happy and told me, "I love school!" After school, she greeted me with a huge hug and a new picture, and said that she thought her teacher was much better than the other kindergarten teacher (instant loyalty) and that she couldn't wait to go back.

I can't keep her from growing up, and I would never want to: to wish that she would never grow up would be the height of selfishness. But I do hope and wish that she will never lose that beauty at her core, that innocence, exuberance and goodness that make her who she is. Time may adapt it, but I never want to see it lost.

Yesterday, she was my pride and joy in a way that she had never been before - not just because she was my child, and not just because she is who she is, but because I am intensely proud of her nature that has nothing to do with nurture. And I know that as she gets used to school and starts to grow away from me a bit, that she will always and forever be my beautiful girl.

But I can't promise I won't still cry sometimes when I drop her off.

A Brief Message, Brought to You By the Letter D

It seems to me, a lot of the time, that other people have some kind of secret knowledge that we don't. The knowledge of how to get ahead, how to make things better, how to continue taking steps forward no matter how much life pushes you back. There seems to be something fundamental that we are missing. Maybe it's something as simple as luck, though I don't really believe that.

Other people go from job to job, continually improving. We fight for every position we get. Other people buy a house, then upgrade it after a while, making it better all the time. We buy a house, then have to move, then are unable to sell it so that it isn't our home anymore but a financial burden that no real estate agent or sales strategy or amount of patience seems able to lift. We live in a place that was supposed to be temporary, that we both hate, but due to the dearth of places available here we seem to be stuck. I continually look for new places, and can't find one. The want ads are filled with people pleading for decent places to live - they don't seem to exist here, unless you buy at an incredibly inflated and undeserving price, which we can't afford anyway because we can't sell our old house.

I don't mean to whine and complain - truly. I know we have a lot to be grateful for. But as long as things keep dragging on with no prospect of improvement in sight, it's difficult to be optimistic.

We now return you to your regularly scheduled silence.

Yikes

Ok, I am r eally really shitty about keeping a journal up to date. I kind of knew this would happen but I stuck my toe in the water anyway.

Just got back from a great visit to Newfoundland. L had a fantastic time. I hope we can get back with J before too many years have passed - he's never been there yet.

Now almost halfway through my pregnancy. Everything is going well so far, except for me having some trouble managing my anxiety issues. I told my doctor about them and he made a note on my chart but didn't have any helpful suggestions or, really, any concern. I'm trying to content myself with the assumption that if he is dismissive, then it means there's nothing truly wrong and he needs me to get out of the way for other women who might need more time for their appointments. It totally isn't because he's way overbooked and probably doesn't give a shit in the first place. Nope, no way.

How's this for a random thought: J and I appear to be the only ones who think that the current series 5 of Doctor Who stinks on hot ice. To quote Zoolander, I feel like I'm taking crazy pills. Am I the only one who thinks Amy is a completely undeveloped character played by an actress with two settings: pout and widened eyes? Fear, confusion or anger - she widens her eyes. Any other situation - she pouts. She sucks and she drives me crazy. The writing is all over the place - nonsensical and ridiculous and not even internally consistent. But everyone else seems to be falling all over themselves with love and admiration. Is it just because it's Doctor Who? Because we're allowed to not like it, you know.