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.

Thankfulness of All Sorts

This weekend, we decided to come to my parents' house for a visit. Yesterday was my birthday, and J's too. Our generous, thoughtful daughter asked her grandparents to take her shopping so she could get presents for us, and they kindly agreed. She picked out a lovely watch for me ("because Mommy is always looking for clocks when we're out somewhere" - too true, I haven't had a watch in yonks), and a notebook/carrying case for J. She also picked out some cards, a cake, and a pink rose for me. And this morning, she got up early with Daddy and Poppy to make breakfast in bed for me and Nanny. We mainly decided to visit for the weekend so that L could be here to celebrate Mother's Day with Nanny (and also so we could get out on our own for a bit to celebrate our own birthday, which we did at a fantastic Indian restaurant) and I'm glad we did.

I realized something important yesterday (in addition to how sweet and thoughtful my little girl is turning out to be). Namely, that someone whose pregnancy is making her hormonal and extremely emotional should never attempt to watch the coverage of Canadian veterans celebrating the 65th anniversary of VE Day in Holland. On a good day, remembrance services choke me up - this one, with all the accompanying tales told by the dwindling number of vets, made me dissolve completely.

Ah, Motherhood

Today's motherhood moment: spending part of the money I have set aside for myself for some birthday shopping on a new Wiggles CD for L.

It's ok. She's upstairs listening to it now, and really enjoying it. All too soon, she'll want CDs from some obnoxious boy band or teenage skank. For now, I'll enjoy the songs about popcorn and how to wake up the tragically narcoleptic member of the group.

Back

So I haven't posted in a while, but it's for a good reason: namely, that my pregnant ass couldn't think of anything to talk about besides all these changes currently mowing me down, and as I hadn't told everyone yet I did the blogging equivalent of holding my hands nervously in my lap and flitting my eyes around the room until I figured out something to say.

Yeah, I am unexpectedly, surprisingly, amazing, with child. It doesn't seem real to me, actually. We had given up on the idea of a second child; in fact, we gave up on it so completely that we had moved on and were just fine, thanks. I could look at babies without feeling that twinge. I could look at pregnant teenagers and not feel bitter. And then, surprise! To be honest, it is still not real to me. I'm due in December, and the news might possibly manage to sink in before then.

I'm really worried about L. We have been broaching the subject with her (but we don't plan to tell her until after I see the obstetrician in a couple of weeks), and the response has been really negative. She doesn't want to be a big sister. She doesn't want a baby around. She thinks my claims that there will be lots more love and lots more fun in the family are total BS. "There would be stinky diapers, Mama," she said, "and babies cry ALL THE TIME. It would be a hundred years before he'd be big enough to play with. No thank you."

Am I overreacting to worry that this could traumatize her? That this could ruin our relationship with her forever? I am on a bit of an emotional and hormonal roller coaster right now so I honestly don't know if my fears are realistic.

In other news, my bestie and I are writing a children's book together. We are going to win a Caldecott Medal. At least. Make sure you order your copy autographed.

Insert Bad Joke About Things Bugging Me

While I am glad that warm weather is coming, I was reminded tonight of one of the reasons I hate summer. There was a spider on the wall, and I was forced to dispose of it. If there is anything worse than being alone when confronted with a bug somewhere in the house and having to deal with it myself, it's when the bug is big enough that you feel it pop when you squoosh it with the tissue.

That's nasty, I know. I apologise. But if this blog is about anything, then it's about making you share my pain.

If I could erect some kind of bug-proof barrier around my home, I would be very happy and maybe not even ask for anything again ever. I could even live with the fact that it would keep out ladybugs, which are the one insect I'm always happy to find inside. Finding a ladybug means having an impromptu session on the wonders of nature and then peacefully releasing it outside to do whatever it is that ladybugs do, like flying away home to rescue their children from a burning dwelling, or eating aphids.

But then again, I am a little nutty on the subject of bugs in the house. Not without good reason. I will be the first to admit that my anxiety issues tend to make me a magnet for, well, anxiety about various issues, and the bug thing is one of them. But in this case, I am well and truly justified. When my family first moved to Cole Harbour, our backyard was so full of spiders you could not walk out on the deck. Our first apartment together in Dartmouth had a stone balcony that spiders just loved. They loved it so much that they would even hang out in the door, falling to the floor with a big splat when I would open it. I don't think I ever actually set foot on the balcony. Our first rental house in the Valley had an earwig problem that I don't think I've ever actually gotten over. It's hard to move past finding an earwig crawling up your leg as you're nursing your newborn daughter in the living room at 3 a.m.

Likewise, it's hard to move past finding two gigantic black spiders in my bed one terrible night after we'd moved into the next house in the Valley. Or the fact that ants nested in the front wall. Or the wasps that made a home in the eaves and got into our bedrooms... let's not forget the one in L's crib, which stung me (thankfully, and not her) when I was putting her down for a nap one afternoon. And have I mentioned the silverfish? There were more than normal in that house. Oh, and centipedes too. And millipedes. Welcome to rural Nova Scotia! they seemed to say as they invaded my house in what felt like a neverending swarm of grossness. Mind if we terrify and disgust you on a daily basis until you move somewhere more civilized?

My point is that my paranoia, in this case, is understandable.

So, to sum up: yay summer. Boo bugs. And I cannot elaborate anymore because I am already so itchy I may not sleep for a week.

Un-Good

Now that we have lowered the price of the house to our "OMG SOMEONE JUST BUY IT" price, we are becoming hopeful we might be able to look for a new place here soon. I have been patrolling the real estate sites, looking for something that might be in our price range (almost nothing) and be not just livable but meet our needs too (almost impossible).

I thought I'd found a good one last night - it looked really beautiful on the inside, and was just outside town. Wasn't perfect, but close enough. I emailed the agent this morning asking a few questions and requesting a showing. When L and I were out and about today, I decided to drive by the spot to see the house from the outside. When we got home, I immediately emailed the real estate agent to say "nevermind". It might be a nice house, but when it's across the road from both a swamp and a junkyard, there's no price low enough to make it attractive.

Tonight L goes to Public Health for her booster shots. She has forgotten for the moment, and I'm not going to remind her. We're going to have a very sad and dramatic girl later.