Odds and Ends...

-This morning I made a critical decision. Shower or sleep in? Sleeping in won. I am totally regretting that now.

-I am so fucking tired, you guys. I'm going on almost ten weeks of waking up every three to four hours at night. It's starting to wear on me.

-Zee and I are going to kick it in Jersey next weekend. Zee will meet her two cousins. I'm giddy with anticipation. I'm really not looking forward to the flight, though. By myself. With a 10 week old. Eek.

-Moving sucks. In my next life, I'm going to be a rich bitch so I can pay other people to do that shit. Either that, or I'll be a seahorse. I've always kind of wanted to be a seahorse. And I'd imagine boxes aren't involved when they move. That'd be nice. And the men do the whole pregnancy thing. I could live with that.

-Whenever I cook at home or eat at someone's house, I always take the least appealing looking piece of meat when the plate is passed. I've always done this. I don't know why.

-My birthday on Saturday was cool. Pretty chill. Went out for a couple of frothy adult beverages with Zee and Zube Boy. I was that lady with a baby in the bar. But really, it was 4PM and the bars here are no smoking. I didn't feel bad. Some people gave us funny looks, but fuck 'em.

-The other day, I farted and a little bubble got stuck between my butt cheeks. It felt totally weird. I had to do kind of a cross between the jig and the Macarena to release it. I was hoping it would make some sort of 'bloop' sound. It was silent. I was disappointed.

-Zube Boy has gotten me addicted to You Tube. I found this video. It was horrifying to watch the first time. I peeked through my fingers. I've since watched it several times and you know what? It is incredibly heartening. I might've even cried a little a couple of times. The way the coach and the audience all step up to help her through. Maybe the world isn't such an ugly place after all.

-Nothing will remind you of the importance of stretching like a baby. I love watching Zee Baby do her red in the face post nap stretches. I've learned to imitate her and it really, really feels good. You should try it.

Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Listen!

I'm one of those people who's all, "No, no, SERIOUSLY, it's a GOOD SONG! Listen to the WORDS!"

It's kind of ironic, but since Zee Baby made her debut, the local radio station has been playing the hell out of this song. It makes me cry every time. Not in a bad way. Not in a happy way. But in a, um, I don't know, a real way. I love it. But I'm not going to tell you what the song is about because Zee is sleeping and I have only moments to impart my feelings.

Just know that I LOVE IT. And, if you are so inclined, you'll have to listen to the words to know just why.

I love it because it doesn't stand on a soap box and tell you, or me, how to feel.

I love it because it's raw and honest and doesn't hide anything.

I love it because it speaks to me, even though I could never, in a million years, have written it.

I love it so much I want to hump it.

My relationship with this song, as most passionate relationships go, is a Love-Hate one. I hate it, too.

I hate it because it reminds me that I decided to have an abortion all alone. Like, pretty much, ALL ALONE. There was no, "Hey, let's go out for coffee or have a deep talk on a picnic table at the park or let's hibernate in your dorm room and decide what the hell we do about the situation we created together." There was none of that. Sure, there was, "Well, Zube Girl, we will support you NO MATTER WHAT you do, but as your Mom and Dad, we just can't make that decision for you. Or even, really, with you." I was smart enough to figure that the asshole that raped me wasn't going to be much help in making that decision. I'm a smart cookie like that. It was all on me.

I hate it, too, because it reminds me that, instead of a boyfriend, my Dad brought me to the clinic. And people looked at us funny. He being so much older than me. I could feel their assumptions creeping up my back. It sucked. But I don't ever think I'll be able to thank my Dad enough for being there.

I hate it even more because it reminds me that the abortion is MY secret. It's not really a secret anymore. I've told the whole damn internets about it. But it's mine. My decision that I made all by myself. I'm a little bit of an idiot because I force myself to see the positive side of that. At least I didn't have a boyfriend who disagreed and wanted me to do something else. But 'at leasts' don't assuage the craptasticness of the situation completely. There will be no ex-boyfriend writing a touching song about my abortion.

I hate it because I could never have written it. Not in a million years. Because it just wasn't like that for me. Even though it kind of was.

Now that Zee is here, I've been thinking about stuff. Choice being one of them. I've often wondered at how, surprisingly, the miscarriages, rather than making me less Pro-Choice, made me more so. They made me realize just how personal my ute is and how nobody else needs to be getting their nosy asses up in her proceedings. I figure other people are entitled to feel the same.

The other day, Zube Boy returned home from work. He walked over to say hi to Zee, and at the sound of his voice, she broke into a huge grin and waved her arms and kicked her feet. It was the very first time she acknowledged so gleefully her Daddy coming home from work. A tear did stir in mine eye. And Zube Boy was beyond thrilled, whisking her up and hugging her. It was nothing short of awesome-tastic. A scene I'm sure I'll be able to replay in my mind's eye for many years to come.

I reflect on that moment a lot. I think about how different my life could be. I often hear Pro-Life folks lamenting the children that will never be because of abortion. I can't help but think, well what about the children that wouldn't be here if it weren't for abortion? Because Zee is one of them. And when I see such joyous interactions between her and her Daddy, there isn't a doubt in my mind I made the right choice, albeit a difficult one. Children deserve to be swooped up and showered with kisses by their Dads. Or their Moms. Whether it's one of each or two of both. They deserve loving parents. Zee has that. I could not have provided that for the child of my rapist.

The song reminds me just how difficult it was to choose. And how lonely it felt. But, as with all difficult things, we get through them. And sometimes we don't know their purpose until many moons later. Like, maybe eleven years, three months and some days.

I'm Fairly Certain the Words Stripper Pole Have Never Been Uttered in That Office...Until Zube Boy and I Came Along

In the past two months I've had a baby, had visitors, travelled to Chicago not only to attend a wedding, but also to be in it, and now...

We bought a new house. I forgot to mention to you all that was in the works. We closed on Thursday. This is the third closing I have attended and the fourth for Zube Boy. I think we're pretty fun to close with.

A week or so ago, I subtly hinted to Zube Boy that my birthday was coming up. I said, "Honey, you know my birthday is coming up." He thought for a moment and said, "How about I buy you...a house?" Ha. Sure. I imagine he won't be paying the mortgage alone and that seems to violate the whole gift thing on so many levels. Anyway, at the start of closing, I told the realtor and the closing agent, in my most serious tone, that at the end, they had to sing Happy Birthday to me. They sort of laughed, not knowing if I was serious or not.

In the house we bought, there are two bedrooms upstairs and one downstairs. The previous owners used the two upstairs as one big room. One was allocated as the closet and the other was for sleeping. The realtor asked me if we had figured out where the baby was sleeping yet. I told him that eventually I'd like to have the baby downstairs, but I didn't feel comfortable with that just yet, so for the time being we'd set her up in the room the owner's used as a closet. And then we'd move her a few months or so down the road if I felt a little better about it. Zube Boy chimed in, "So, are you saying that in a few months the baby is going to come out of the closet?" Badum-bum. Ching. I said that if she is to come out of the closet in the future, it would probably be just a few years longer.

We also had to sign a paper that had our aliases listed, promising that those were the only ones we had. Actually, we had none. The realtor noted that sometimes some pretty funky stuff shows up on those reports. I said, "Like stage names from someone's college stripping days?" He laughed and said that we didn't have anything weird. I breathed a sigh of relief and told Zube Boy it was a good thing they didn't find him out.

At the end, I pointed to a post in the corner of the room and said that it must've been very difficult for Zube Boy to keep his pole dancing impulses in check.

Who knew closing on a house could be so fun. It took about two hours.

I'm up to my ears in the maelstrom that is my life these days. Not getting enough sleep. Little Zee is still waking up during the night. Moving. After moving, we have to finish the remodel on our house so we can sell it. The shit is hitting the fan and I'm trying to dodge the flying poo.

Hope you're all well. I'll keep you updated.