Motherhood

I know it may seem like Twixter One and I gave up on this blog, which we kind of did, but I've had this urge to write again ever since Bean was born. So I think that I'll write on here even if it's just purely cathartic reasons.

Baby Bean came into this world on August 14 at 1:48 pm. Funny story about that. He was due on August 25. The night before I went kind of crazy and psycho cleaned our entire apartment. Apparently that's a sign of labor and I didn't realize it. So the next morning, I went into my last day of work opening at 4:30 am and felt kind of strange to say the least. I got to work and was doing my thing and thought I felt my water break. The thing about being pregnant for the first time is you have zero idea what to expect. Some women's water don't break at all. And it's not how it seems in the movies. Your water doesn't break and 15 minutes later you're having a baby.

So I did the natural thing. I ignored it. I kept work until around 6 am when I was then pretty positive my water broke. The beginning contractions were also a sign. So I called Husband and woke him up. I then called my manager to come take over. He was freaking out. He called 3 different times on his way over because he thought I was going to pop out a baby in the back room. I laughed and kept working, because that's what I do. I headed home and Husband and I waited around for an hour or two until my contractions were closer together. I know you're supposed to go straight into the hospital when your water breaks but my contractions were still over 20 minutes apart. So we sat around and got everything ready since I would much rather be at home than in a hospital.

We finally go to the hospital around 8 am and checked in. No one tells you about this part of delivery. The boring part. We just sat around playing cards until they could move me into the actual delivery room. I had decided to have a natural birth even though the nurse who was first attending to me made me feel like an idiot about it. She proceeded to tell me about her 3 natural deliveries but how I wouldn't be able to do it. So that really pushed my confidence. But by the time I got to the hospital I was 6 cm dilated out of 10 and the contractions hadn't been unmanageable. So I told the biatch to STFU and kept going. I didn't really tell her that. I was much more pleasant. Which is surprising for a woman going into labor.

So skip the boring stuff, I had a horrible contraction and finally asked the nurse (a new much nicer one) if I could have some IV pain meds. She went to go get them and I was overcome with a desire to push about 2 hours earlier than they said I would. When the nurse got back I informed her, "Um....I feel a really strong urge to push" where she proceeded to laugh and check me out. Much to her surprise, I was ready to go. So she calls for another nurse to go get my doctor who was on her way to perform a circumcision. Husband is holding up one of my legs and the nurse the other while several other nurses flutter around prepping the room. When Bean was ready, he was sure ready. So I didn't even have time to get any meds and had to pop out a baby.

The pain was no picnic I'll tell you that. It was like the worst burning pain ever. Everyone told me you'd forget about the pain after the fact. Not entirely true. It doesn't feel as strongly in my head obviously, but I didn't just block it out either.

But once he was out, nothing really mattered. It was amazing to just see him outside of me. This thing that had been moving around, LIVING in me for 9 months was here. And he was the cutest squid baby I'd ever seen. (I don't care what anyone says, there is no cute newborn except your own.) In fact, I think Bean has graduated into being called Squid now. He had such a smooshy little face and a cone head covered in hair. I was born nearly bald so I have no clue where his hair came from. Even husband wasn't born with much hair at all.

I do have to say, I felt like a champion after the delivery. The nurses were all amazed that I was smiling and joking with them even up to the time to push. My doctor kept calling me a champion. My main nurse told me she would come in on her day off to deliver my second kid. The other nurse told me if all her deliveries were like mine she would work 7 days a week. And the last nurse (this is my favorite) told me I was the best and easiest delivery she had ever done in her five years at that hospital. So needless to say I felt like Wonder Woman. And Squid was perfect.

But now, 2 months later, I'm still in shock I have a kid. I'm a twixter. I haven't finished college, and I work a crappy job that most people use as a second job. Yet here I am. A mom. I start work this week so maybe that's why I'm feeling nostalgic about it. I don't feel like I'm ready to teach someone how to live. I mean I'm still trying to figure that out myself.

I wish I could stay home with him all the time. I also wish I could get more than 3 hours of sleep at a time. Supposedly that should be getting better in the next month or so. We'll see about that.

Twixter Two

Just a little bit vindictive ...

I've been quite polite through this entire thing. My emails have been professional, I've given the appropriate amount of notice, and have given more patience than what should be required of me. I have tried, tried, tried and gotten very little back.

So no, I really don't feel bad that I twisted every light bulb in the place a quarter turn to the left. Just enough so they won't connect. Nope, in fact, I don't feel even the smallest bit of bad for you when you find that the only light in the apartment "doesn't work."

Good riddance. That's all I have left to say.

I'm Too Skinny? And Pregnant?

This morning I was told that I wasn't eating enough. That's only happened twice in my entire life.

The first time was my sophomore year of high school when I became obsessed with having abs. (Which I still think to this day is not physically possible with my body type unless I take some kind of alternate substance to help my muscles grow. Which would look weird and gross.) My father came home from work, looked at me rooting around in the fridge and said, "you need to eat more. You're too skinny."

At the time, I was running several miles a week, I had just had a huge growth spurt over the summer and was doing 1000 crunches a day. I repeat: 1000 crunches. Every. Single. Day.

I'd wake up and roll out of my bed onto the floor and do 200, plus another 300 before leaving for school after breakfast. When I got home from school, I'd do another 300 and 200 before bed. It hurt to laugh.

Yeah. There was seriously something wrong with me.

This time, it was from my Ob-GYN or Lady Doc as I shall now call her. I weighed in this morning at 132 pounds a around 12 weeks in my pregnancy. I was 135 pounds when I found out I was pregnant. I now have a tiny little belly bump which just looks like I ate a few giant bowls of pasta, but it's there! Oh, Husband and I are fondly calling the baby Bean from now until we find out the gender.

Lady Doc talked to me about the importance of nutrition and how I need to not be afraid of how fat I'm going to get. She told me how she can't remember what she looked like when "she was a whale" as she called it. Her mind completely blocked what she had looked like. She remembers being pregnant but not what it looked like.

It felt strange. I not choosing not to eat. Bean is still sometimes making me puke up everything. I've developed a brand spanking new lactose intolerance (which is normal) and had to figure out a whole new way to eat. I'm only NOW getting my appetite back.

But they way she talked to me, you'd think I'd been caught hiding food or bingeing. Lately, I walk around the apartment in tight shirts and yell for Husband to look at my belly. I definitely wouldn't say I'm worried about getting fat.

Although she told me I have to gain a full 30 pounds by the time I reach the end of my pregnancy. It's normally anywhere from 25-30 but because of my size and weight, she wants it to be the full 30 pounds. My cat is around 5 pounds. That's like draping 6 of him all over my body. Or more appropriately, stacking 6 of him on my stomach. That FREAKS ME OUT. 30 pounds?! That's a lot.

So needless to say, this whole pregnancy thing is all shiny and full of happiness at the joy of life. I'm practically glowing as I sit, having to pee in the laundromat but not wanted to use the nasty bathroom.

Also, I'm hungry. Again. Maybe Taco Bell on the way home? Mmmm.....

Isn't it glamorous?

Happy New Year, 18 days Late....

Well, even with the guilty hints from Twixter One, it has taken me a total of 18 days to update this brand new year, on top of the almost 6 months it has been since I've even updated at all.

Wow. That was an embarrassing revelation.

I had such high hopes of blogging all last year. It was supposed to be awesome! Twixter One and I had been working on getting our blog out there for the world to see then we just....stopped. Well, I stopped. Twixter One at least attempted, kind of. :)

Now is a new year, a time for new starts. I decided not to have any New Years Resolutions. I find I either never remember them or just feel guilty at the end of the year for not accomplishing them. The not accomplishing is usually followed by excuses to why it was an unrealistic goal in the first place. Excuse-Excuse-Whine-Whine-Whine.

Well I'm tired of whining. And I'm tired of my own excuses. So this year is a year about doing. Not goal setting and listing, it's a year of making it happen. Figuring out what the hell I actually LOVE in my life. Because I still don't truly know. I still feel like that floundering high school girl who can't decide what to major in because that determines what she'll be doing for the next 30 years of her life. How wrong was I? (Incredibly wrong, actually.)

So the real reason behind all this "doing" not pretending is my big news of 2011. I found out just before Christmas that Husband and I are expecting a little Twixter of our own. You read correctly. I'm preggo.

I do have to say how excited I am. This was not planned per say, but Husband and I were planning on kids within the next year or so anyhow. It was just a tidbit earlier than we had hoped. Nothing wrong with that. Everyone keeps telling me you are never truly ready to have kids. You just have to make it happen.

So yes, I do feel a sort of time crunch. Every time I get sick (which for me is night sickness, not morning sickness) I'm reminded of how much my body and life are going to be changing. Will forever be changed after this baby is born.

A little bit of honesty: When Husband and I found out I was pregnant, I freaked out. And not in a good way. All I saw was myself raising kids and doing nothing for the rest of my life. I mean, I have 6 college classes left to a degree. When am I going to take them? When are we going to want to set aside extra money for a crazy irresponsible projects (like moving across the country to start a production company) after we have kids? We actually have to be adults now.

Needless to say, I calmed down. A LOT. After the initial shock faded, I got excited. Who says my life has to end? It's a baby, not an anchor. My journey on this ocean of life doesn't need to marooned forever. I just picked up some extra crew.

My parents worked really hard to keep doing what they wanted to do with their lives, even after I was born. They started several business, and just kept living. I want that. I want to keep living. I'm still only 23 years old. (Oh yeah, my birthday was in November).

So there's that. Man, I forgot how awesome it feels to blog.

Hm. Maybe I can actually keep DOING it. What do you think Twixter One?

Happy New Year!

Happy New Year! And ... OOPS! Looks like Twixter Two and I have managed to let our little blog slip for quite some time now. But I promise you, there is good reason behind it. The last six-months have been a roller coaster, to say the least, with plenty of changes to talk about. I’ll let Twixter Two catch you up on her stories (hint-hint, clue-clue, guilt-guilt) but as for me I feel like so much has changed, to the point it seems like nothing has changed! But nonetheless - here are the highlights:

CH-CH- CH- CHANGES!
The biggest change in the past 6-months actually happened just a couple days ago. After over a year-and-a-half of living an hour (or two) away from each other, The Boyfriend has finally moved up North! Now, he’s just a 10-minute drive away, and I’m LOVING IT! After months of fighting graduation and unemployment, he finally landed a gig at one of the studios in town. It only took a couple weeks of that torturous 2-hour drive to convince him it was time to get a place up North.

I’m SO flippin’ excited to have him near me, although I have to admit, it’s going to take an adjustment. We have been in “relationship survival mode” for so long - planning out our dates weeks in advance, going days upon days without seeing each other - than now I’m not sure how to handle having a “full-time” boyfriend! Of course - it’s a great problem to have, and a great way to start 2011!

CH-CH-CH-CHANGING!
Speaking of moving: After over a year and a half at my current place, I’m pulling out the moving boxes once again. (or maybe just stealing what’s left of The Boyfriends). Over the last month its become very clear that it was time for The Actress and I to go our separate ways. (A story for another time, when distance allows me to laugh about it rather than scream.) Half of me is itching and excited to find a new place, but the other half is dreading the pack up and move dance. I can’t wait for the day when home is permanently home!

So, now it’s time for the roommate hunt, which is always frustrating, weird, and awkward. I find it funny that when dating someone you take months, even years, to decide that they are worthy enough to share your home with. But when hunting for a roommate you have a week - sometimes only days - to decide that they’re good enough to move in with - even if it’s just for a year or two. Needless to say, my roommate hunt so far has brought out it’s share of kooks, but there’s a few bright spots on the horizon that I hope will be a perfect fit.

CH-CH-CH-NOPE.
Strangely enough, the one thing that I THOUGHT would change over these past 6-months is still the same. I’d been on the job hunt over the summer months, when a “new” opportunity fell into my lap. After a good friend left our small company, her position was served to me on a sparkling silver platter. Goodbye Assistant-hood, hello - well, another job. I’d love to say that Production Coordinator was my dream job, but it brought with it quite a few obstacles to jump over (or run over) along the way. There are days that I absolutely love my job, and others that make me want to run crying back to Vegas. But, as my family continues to remind me, that’s business, so I’m sticking it out for at least a couple more months.

Of course, this all could change come February, when I’m expecting/ hoping/ praying for an acceptance letter to a industry program I applied for last November. This will be my 2nd year applying, and while I know not to get my hopes up (I have a 15/2000 chance of landing it) I can’t help but hope that this will be my year.

As I look back over 2010, I realize that it was a year of rest for me. 2010 taught me how to be satisfied with my life - to enjoy my job, my friends, and my city. However, sometimes I wonder if it crossed the line and not only taught me to be satisfied, but also to be comfortable living the same-old, same-old day after day. As I face a 2011 that I hope will be filled with changes, the comfortable part of Twixter One starts to get more and more anxious about what is to come. While I know that change is good, I have to remind me that in order to change, I have to lose control of that aspect of my life - something that I DEFINITELY don’t like to do. I’m smart enough to know that one day I’ll look back at this part of my life, and everything will once again make sense. Of course, I wouldn’t mind a little common sense here and now too.

Happy New Year All!

Family Vacation

When I was really little, summer vacations were never a big deal in my family. I remember summers where all my friends would leave to go on road trips to Yosemite or the Beach, and always wondered why my family was stuck at home.

The truth is, my dad is not a big fan of crowds. It’s like pulling teeth to get him to play tourist - and to travel during the busiest time of the year is an absolute no go. Instead, we’d take our summer vacations in October - every October 31st to be exact. (Nevada Day for those who are unaware, when Nevada school children get the day off for Halloween to celebrate Nevada becoming a state). Most of the time this meant a trip to Disneyland, where my mother would dress all of the kids in horrific tye dye Micky Mouse sweatshirts and tote us around the park. (I’m pretty sure our family photo is still up for the world to see in the photo shop. yikes!) On the years that we didn’t go to Disneyland, we’d join in with a few other families and rent a houseboat for a week at Lake Mead, leaving me with many memories of a half a dozen kids sleeping under the stars on the roof of the houseboat.

My family eventually caught on to the nature of summer vacations once I was in high school. That’s when we discovered the Lake of the Ozarks. Lake of the Ozarks is a 23-hour drive from Las Vegas, and of course with MY dad that meant we’d be driving. My dad’s version of cross country road trips involves only stopping when the car says so. You have exactly the amount of time it takes to fill up the gas tank on my dad’s F250 to grab food, use the facilities, and do as many jumping jacks as possible before it’s time to hit the road for another 300 miles. As soon as I had my first job I began saving for plane tickets to the Ozarks, and I haven’t looked back since.

By the time we reached the Ozarks my family was ready for a week straight of vacation. It was the perfect vacation - our lake house tucked away at the shore - a 20 minute drive to the closest convenience store, an hours drive from the closest Walmart. It was the perfect vacation - a REAL vacation - with no plans, nothing to see, nothing to do. We went skiing, suntanned, grabbed lunch on the lake - and once we were old enough a couple of beers too. It is the idealistic vacation, and one that I relied on to refresh and replenish my soul.

As I type this, my family is currently enduring the endless road trip back to Nevada. The Baby is begging to watch another episode of Hannah Montana on the laptop, and The Teenager is complaining that she can’t get cell signal in no-wheres-ville. My mom is suggesting they stop at the cute little antique store on the side of the road, and my Dad is staring at the road sending mean thoughts to my brother for flying home early. My brother is already back early in Vegas - thinking up the best excuse to explain why he stole the Land Sharks that were being brought back for me.

Meanwhile, I’m sitting in my office, staring at a picture of the lake house on my computer screen, and pretending the sound of my air filter is really water lapping up on the lake shore.

No, my family didn’t disown me when I decided to move to LA. I was still welcome to come on our family vacation, and spent months studying the ticket prices on Allegiant hoping to grab a stellar sale. However, responsibility soon weaseled it’s way in. My vacation days were few, and as the trip came closer I was holding out for a very important phone call that I just couldn’t miss.

The time came for my family to leave, and I stayed in LA. Work was slow - I had nothing to do. and the phone call never came. Suddenly staying in LA sounded like the worst idea ever.

I wanted to call my Mom to pout and complain, thinking maybe I could trick her into suggesting that she’d pay for my plane ticket. I wanted to call my Dad and remind him that 22 is still REALLY young to be living completely independent in one of the biggest cities on earth, and doesn’t he want to see his little girl again? I wanted to throw a hissy fit, to have Mom and Dad rescue me from the boredom and frustration that is living an adult life - let me escape to the Ozarks where there is no such things as worries.

Instead a grew up, threw on my business flats, and went to work. Being an adult isn’t always so fun.

Staycation

When I first started at my current job, there was one thing that I was particularly excited about: VACATION DAYS. The idea that once I worked long enough the company would PAY me to take a day off and travel to exotic locations was the cherry on top.

Of course, I didn't consider the fact that being paid for vacation days didn't necessarily mean I could afford to travel to these exotic locales. So instead my vacation days have sat unused - or even worse, used for doctors appointments.

This past weekend I finally took the plunge and took an elaborate, exciting and thrilling 4-day vacation - to Los Angeles. That's right - I took a vacation at home. Before you roll your eyes at the term "staycation" however, let me explain. I turned my vacation response on. My cell phone off. My computer stayed at my desk. Heck - I didn't even get on Facebook!

The Best flew down from Nor Cal, The Fashionista drove up from Orange County and we had a full fledged girls weekend. This WAS the kind of weekend we had dreamed about in college. We drank Bitch Wine and ate Tarts until 2 am, laid out on the beach all day, and ate at this hole-in-the-wall Hollywood spot called Miceli's where our waiter was an actor who sang "Falling in Love with You" to us gals.

On Saturday we spent bucket loads of money as we shopped literally until we dropped, and then attempted to make fruity girly drinks from sorbet and rum picked up spontaneously from Trader Joes. Sunday was a hike through Griffith Park’s “Old Zoo” and a fireworks show in the park, before we all crashed on Monday morning.

It was the perfect weekend, something that I badly needed to rejuvenate my soul and brighten my outlook on life. I think my roommate, The Actress, said it best when she mentioned that she'd never heard me laugh like that in the year we've been living together!

There is nothing that can replace good, quality time with girlfriends who intimately love and know you. There's no embarrassment, no explaining needed - just girls who know you and accept you for all your quirky qualities.

It’s been a year since I’ve moved to LA, and slowly I’ve found my way around this city and made quite a few friends in the process. But no matter how exciting the city, after a while the hum drum of life gets you down and you need something special to pick you up.

That’s where I learned the benefit of having your best friends live miles apart. There is no room to take friendships for granted, there’s no assuming that they’ll always be around for drinks or a movie. They don’t become a part of the hum drum of life.

Instead, they’re the special, amazing, miraculous thing that picks you up and brightens your outlook on life again. That turns your old hum drum of a city into an exciting staycation worth more than any Caribbean cruise. Suddenly, the distance doesn’t seem half that bad.