Hey Dreamland, I Know We're Friends and All, but You're Being an Ass Again

       My Mom said she thought I would be two months early.

       "Me too!" I chimed in, "and guess what? I didn't gain any weight after I hit four months!" 

       "That's great!

       "Yep. Well, I guess I'll go have this baby now."

       "Alright, see you later."

       And then, since I planned on having a water birth, I was in the middle of the ocean. I labored without any pain as the ocean kept getting smaller. My friends, the mermaid-sprite-things, were watching me as I progressed until I wiped my sweaty brow and pulled a smaller than average but perfectly healthy baby boy out of my vagina and onto my shoulder as I was treading water. I knew it was a baby boy because I looked at the penis and  made a point to tell my mermaid-sprite-friend-things there was a penis. I then gave birth to a baby blanket and wrapped the baby in it, then swam to the nearest island to set him down on. Then the mermaid-sprite-things turned on the ocean pump and I was swept back into a constant roll, rolling over and over and over and I couldn't swim out of it so I was like, "come on guys! Cut this shit out!" So they stopped, and I swam back to the island to check on my baby and he wasn't there so I was like, "come on guys! Give me my baby back!" By this time, the ocean was the size of a large swimming pool and i was leaning over the edge between the shallow end to the deep end, and they swam up out of the deep end and gave me back my baby, which was now cold, stiff, and more or less a doll. The mermaid-sprite-things smiled at me mischievously and I thought they were very rude for taking away the life from my baby. 

       Then suddenly Mars and I were driving home, and the baby had life again, and we just kind of perched him on top of my console as Mars tried to keep the same speed and not take any sharp turns or stop fast. Up ahead was a sign that said "The Pit: left exit." He took the exit and I tried to tell him that it wouldn't do, there was a reason this road was called "The Pit." Sure enough, the exit pretty much dead ended under an overpass where a bunch of mechanics were hanging out in sweatpants with fans. Up ahead was a valley of gravel followed by a mountain of gravel so Mars and I got out of the truck, I turned the truck and the baby into a fossil, put the fossil in my pocket, and we began to trek across the hot gravel toward the hill we intended to climb while calmly smoking cigarettes and talking about how my old jeans already fit again.  

Pregnancy Cravings So Far...

There is no time and no place I would turn down any of these foods. I want all of them. All the time. All. The. Time.

Sprinkled with salt, I vampirize these 

I've eaten entire containers in one sitting

I sprinkle these with two parts sugar, one part salt, and tuck in to a plate full.

Cake. Always want cake.

I kid you not, this shit tastes like angel giggles.

Bread! All the bread!

Marry me, Thai red curry?

Babies...NEED ice cream. 

De Pancakes go de gulp gulp--ahhh.

Guacamole? More like Guacamore.

I'll take 200 of these, and go ahead and give me a pint of ranch. Thanks.

Happy Guzzle. 

When I am a Mama

       Running the risk of later contradicting myself, I've decided to write out a list of my goals for motherhood. I'm sure some mothers may scoff at some of my high desires, or go "yeah right" but these are things I truly want for my relationship and character training of my child...and like they say, "aim for the stars, you might just hit the moon." Or is it the other way around...

When I am a Mama:

I will not safe proof every move my child makes. If they do not stop an action because I tell them they will probably bump their head, I will let them bump their head rather than scooping them up in my arms away from danger. Painful mistakes are far better teachers than cushy warnings.

My child will know which items they may or may not touch and play with, and they will act accordingly. My mom seemed to do it fine, she had crystal figurines on bottom shelves when I was three years old for goodness sakes...I didn't dare go near them. 

I don't want my kiddo to call me "mommy". When I was a kid, I didn't like it when other kids called their moms "mommy," I am not sure why, but to this day I don't like the name.

I will train my child not to interrupt adults while they are talking. If they want something, they may touch my arm and wait patiently for a break in conversation. This is not to say I'll not include my child in adult conversations, they may sit and listen and add to plenty of conversations, especially with friends and family, but they must learn soon that they are not the most important person in the room in order to do so. 

I will strive to include my child in the things I enjoy doing--with regards to safety. I will not send my child to their room to play alone if they want to be around me as long as they behave respectfully.  

I will give my child every opportunity to form their own interests and passions, and let them try anything they want to do at least once. 

I don't have a television, so I will give my child plenty of interactive activities to keep them stimulated and entertained.

I will not allow my child to want me more than they want Mars, he will be as involved with them as I am, and  not just for play time, for bathing, dressing, feeding, teaching, and discipline. 

I will not allow my child to chose their own food for at least the first five years of life. If they do not eat something I give them, there will not be a substitute. I will be very picky about their food for them, if I won't eat over processed franken-food, why should I let it into their ever growing bodies?

Children equate love with time so I'll make sure to give them plenty. 

I will read sophisticated novels to them aloud at a young age and teach them word comprehension as soon as they begin speaking. I will assume that my child has the potential to be smarter than me and will in time pick up anything I communicate to them. 

I will give them patience. If they do not follow my rules and wants I will remain calm and steady in my teaching until they do. If I blow up at them, I will not blame them...because they are children and I am an adult. 

I will be strict in my ideology but not so much in my manner. My child will think of my face as a kind and smiling one, and when they think of me they will think of the fun and interesting things I've done with them. 

I will let my child get dirty.

I won't censor the world for my child. If they come across death and sex and injustice by means of the media, I'll explain it to them. That being said, I'll not intentionally introduce it. 

I will read, and they will leave me alone while I do so. I'm not sure how I'll get this accomplished, but it will happen. 

I will answer all questions my child has for me with honesty. 

I will not be my child's slave...they will learn to pick up after themselves as soon as they have the motor skills to do so. It will simply be a part of play and a part of meal time.

I will punish my child unusually for minor offenses, so they grow up to be quirky. I.E. I'll make them listen to an audio-tape of a trigonometry lecture for half an hour, or they'll have to collect 100 blades of grass in a glass, or I'll dye all their socks their least favorite color.

I'll allow cushion area in my future plans for my child, and let my child teach me the best way to raise them as only they can. 

I'll be quick to forgive and make sure humor is the largest facet of my interactions with my child.

Alien Technology...I "Married" a goofball.

       Mars and I aren't technically married. We are technically in what they call a "domestic partnership." Technically we've been together for four years, lived together for two, created a life, and are as deeply annoyed and critical of one another as we are deeply in love and accepting of each other. We also share the same values and have had conversations while defecating.  Basically we're married. We might have our people dance and drink and get fancy about it later. 

        This person I "married" is a complete goober, a walking farce, when he's in a jovial mood (or meets a new person)...suddenly even the ground he walks on is a parody.

Here's proof. These are some of his faces.

       So, I kinda sorta took him to the OBGYN with me for my first prenatal appointment and 13 week sonogram. I won't say this was a mistake, because...well he's the father of my child and I cherish him so by proxy, I have to put up with his antics (I guess). It began in the waiting room....when we realized we'd come to a highly Christian doctor. There weren't any crosses so I was alright with that (I have a phobia of crosses). However, all the magazines on the table were really goofy old people church magazines. The pictures within were cheesy, the captions were cheesy, and he couldn't stay away from them. I brought my high fantasy novel, A Storm of Swords by George R.R. Martin, so I was doing my best not to pay attention to Mars trying desperately to get my attention. It wasn't easy. First he started reading the most fantastically embarrassing bits of my novel out loud for the whole waiting room to hear: " 'Half the gold in Catherly Rock, I thall have. But firth I muth thend him a message.' He said in his slithery goatish tongue." That's right, Mars started reciting out loud the dialogue of the character with the "slithery goatish tongue." After so many death and pain threats, he still wouldn't stop, and the other people in the waiting room were starting to give looks,  so I put my book down and watched him point out all the goofy pictures of cheesy old people doing and saying cheesy things in the Christian old people magazine and tried to giggle quietly.

       The nurse then called us into the sonogram room. I reclined on the paper covered bed and got gel-gouped and prodded with the sound wave wand while Mars sat back on the chair and we both stared at the screen. The nurse quickly found the little humanoid figure and we watched as it placidly chilled out in my womb. The arms and legs were clearly distinguished, arms crossed behind the head while the legs crossed at the ankle. It was in the exact same position as Mars on the chair. The image was quite breathtaking. It was really there, real life, a baby inside of me. The nurse said "hmmm, let's see if we can get baby to move." BANG JIGGLE BANG BANG, she went with the wand on my abdomen. Surely enough baby uncrossed its arms and legs, seemed to look around, then went right back into the same position as before. Then it gave a BIG YAWN. Our kid has a huge mouth apparently. Go figure. 

       As Mars was relatively quiet during this whole process, I thought he was having some kind of emotional experience so I later asked him what he was feeling while he was looking at the sonogram. His reply? "I was thinking, this is definitely alien technology...definitely." Goofball.  

       Then we went back in so I could have my blood drawn. His high spirits were back and I was feelin' pretty sunny joker myself so we managed to give the nurse some good laughs. He played with the fake vagina and display IUD inappropriately, then I gave him some quirky insults as he made scary faces at me while my blood was being drawn. He grabbed some latex gloves and put them on with a dramatic snap, I told him we weren't going to play doctor in front of the nurse. He made a big, unnecessary deal out of choosing my prenatal vitamin and I asked the nurse for a vial of blood to take home so I could "paint with it" to try and embarrass him. She did not oblige but he did indeed do a facepalm, so I thought it a great success. 

      So anyway, baby is healthy and all is well, I'll find out if my blood is infected with anything later. Next time I'll post a picture of my expanding abdomen. 

       Now I shall leave you with the best photo I've found on the internet lately.

Buffalo Meatballs

       As promised in my last post, I cooked the buffalo and was entirely pleased with the recipe I came up with. I wanted to really experience the flavor of the meat...not drown it with condiments or noodles or sauces, so burger, casserole, and stew dishes were out. Buffalo meat tastes a bit sweeter and more savory than beef. It was as if the animal I was eating was allowed to enjoy a nice, long, full and free life. I imagined my buffalo hanging out in his favorite patch of grass under his favorite tree watching his llama neighbors across the way make goofy faces at him (it was their game) before ambling over to catch the latest pasture gossip with his friends over at the watering hole. Words up that ole Jim went to the slaughter today. Jim knew it was coming, the rancher told him to go ahead and make his peace two weeks ago. His buffalo friends spent their afternoon reminiscing about what fun they and ole Jim had in his last couple of weeks.

Livin' the good life

       Again I digress. Here's how I made the Meatballs, I ended up with a dozen medium sized.

Ingredients

1 lb ground Buffalo meat

1 large egg

Handful of uncooked oatmeal

1/4 c chopped onion (about a quarter of a large onion)

1 chopped Serrano pepper 

1/4 c chopped fresh basil

1/2 tsp garlic powder

1 1/2 tsp sea salt

3 good splashes of milk 

Dash of dried oregano

Dash of dried tarragon

A hearty splash of Worcestershire sauce

       Make sure your peppers, onions, and basil are chopped finely.

       Add the rest of the ingredients into a medium-large bowl and mix it all up until everything is evenly incorporated. Bare hands work best for meat mixing, just make sure you wash them well before and after.

       Here's my trick for getting meatballs to stay together and cook evenly: I use a mini muffin tin. Weigh the meat in your hands, shape into balls, and plop it right in. This is also great because it allows the grease to run off so your already light buffalo meat gets even lighter. Just be sure to put a pan or something on the rack below to catch the grease, I forgot to last night and had to have a woopsie mini grease fire adventure. My baking soda aim was impeccable and the meatballs were saved! 

I like having this cute little ceramic owl watch me while I cook

       Bake them in an oven preheated to 400 degrees fahrenheit for 25 minutes and turn them once halfway through. Oh yeah, I sprinkled some celery seeds on top of each one as a last step before baking, and I thought the effect was quite nice. Serve them with whatever you want. I chose spicy red beans and basmati rice along with buttered yellow squash as my sides and  iced sweetened cinnamon orange black tea to drink. I'll definitely be making these again.

P.S. If anyone reads this blog and ends up making these, please do tell me how they turned out and if you found anything to improve the recipe. Much thanks.

Week 12 Grumbles

       I'm done with my first trimester! I feel good, like spring-break-driveway-car-wash good. Hey everyone, come see how good I feel! I'm going to vacuum the carpets today, and that's saying something. I'm even going to make a baking soda/essential oil carpet sprinkle so my house will smell like a minty wild orange rosemary phenomenon! I shall then cook a buffalo. I shall use every part I have, just like my ancestors. I'm thinking buffalo noodle casserole burgers and a pelt for the little one. I'll make yard art out of that squiggly bit nobody really knows what to do with.


       Okay, I kid I kid. I don't have a whole buffalo ready to slaughter in my back yard. However, I do have a portion of pre-slaughtered buffalo which I intend to cook and eat tonight.

       It's my favorite land animal to eat. I've never had it but I can already tell because I'm Texan and like most Texans who can trace their family history back 3 or 4 generations, I come from that Native Stock. I get all sacred feeling when I hear gut chants and hide drums, and my instinct tells me to dance in the rain and thank the earth for its stuff. So I'm certain I'll love this buffalo eating thing.


       Right, so off the novelty food subject and back to the pregnancy grumbles! I can definitely tell a difference in my belly now. At this point it just looks like I have a little pot belly under my clothes, which I'm enjoying since I saw pulp fiction when I was little girl and have romanticized the pot belly since then. From the side it's all mini baby bump-ish though.

(Sorry about the picture quality. My regular camera is lost and my phone is terribly uneducated.)

       Even Mars can tell the difference. I stepped out of the shower the other day and he excitedly proclaimed, "You look like a bowling pin!" 

       I gave him that look I give people when they say something so foot-in-mouthy that it's absolutely comical, even darling.
       He tries to save himself. "I mean, yunno, a bowling pin with boobs...."
       Now I'm fluently snickering, thinking a bowling pin with boobs...that is SUCH a keeper. 
       He should have given up then but instead he kept going...like he does. "What I mean to say is you look pregnant."
       I'm still laughing. "Yes, I realize."
       "And it's beautiful." He then exits the bathroom leaving me to go awwwww as I finish drying off.


       Other than physical appearance I'm feeling a lot less lethargic and sicky and haterish. We went to Mars's aunt's birthday party last night....we'll call her Auntie M. She and her husband are absolutely wonderful people. So kind and loving, open and honest, outgoing and social, intelligent and cheerful. The Irish have this wonderful saying that constant cheerfulness is a sign of wisdom, and this is what I think of when I think of them. We always have such a good time over there. That being said...good heavens is Auntie M affectionate, especially when she's been drinking. Her and her sister, Mars's other aunt who we don't see as often (let's call her AC), were constantly feeling me up. I went ahead and told my personal space bubble to float on, that'd I'd pick it back up on the way home. I mean my little belly was rubbed from the side, from the front, from the back, held, hugged, jiggled, and kissed. Out of the 6 hours we were there, I was being touched for 4 of them. I could take that, but I was about to speak out against the baby talking.


       I hate baby talking. It freaks me out. Babies are humans with language intelligence. Making noises at them is one thing, it's silly, but constantly talking to them like "a-buj-a-bee-bo lu-lu-lu a-di-ma-ni ahhhh" is stupid. I think too much of it makes babies stupid, especially when a baby voice is used when regular words come out of the adult baby speaker's mouth. What is with it?! Why oh why oh why? I'll certainly not dumb myself down for my baby. No, I'll probably even speak to it in an aristocratic British accent so I'll sound smarter. I'll speak to it in a Scots accent every time I drink scotch (or a pint of anything) and a French accent every time I take it apparel shopping. We'll use a Mexican accent when we buy meat and an Icelandic accent when we do crafts. No baby accents! I was only really annoyed because AC was constantly talking to me in the baby voice, making baby noises at me like...because I'm growing a baby, somehow that makes me a baby. After a couple of hours of it all I could think was please, for-the-love-of-GOD get out of my face, stop fondling me and talk to me like I'm the fully grown woman I am!


       But I didn't say that. I'm too nice. Instead I opted to spend an hour in the bathroom because all the belly rubbing moved my bowels too quickly so I ended up with a massive belly ache and explosive diarrhea. I told you this blog would be told in true TMI style.