Letter to Piglet #2.

Sonika Post in Mama To Be Blogging，
02 September 2010
4

Welcome to the Time Machine. By the time you read this, I will be in my second trimester of pregnancy. Here’s a blast from the not-too-distant past about the first trimester – which I wrote about but did not publish said babblings because HELLO SUPERSTITIOUS.


Dear Piglet,

We had our first doctor’s appointment today. Two of them! Oh boy. Busy, busy day. You’re determined to keep me busy even before you exit into the world, aren’t you? Ah well, I’m up for it. You’re a very wanted Piglet and I’m happy to go to four thousand doctor’s appointments so long as you’re healthy. So, STAY HEALTHY, OK?! Ok.

Everything looks good so far. You are officially due to enter into the World Beyond My Uterus on March 11. (Which, PS, would be a pretty awesome birthday – 3/11/11.)  A Pisces. You planned this, didn’t you? You know that you have two Virgo parents and you just wanted to mess with us from the moment of your conception. Well, good job. Though really, I don’t care if you’re a dreamer who can’t get yourself organized. I love you already. (Your father though… if you don’t clean your room once in a while, that man is going to develop a painful twitch.)

Anyhow. We had to wait in the doctor’s office for a good twenty minutes after we peed in the very expensive cup. I’ve never been so stupidly anxious over a test in my life! A test whose results I ALREADY KNEW! Geez. The doctor came in and asked me if I had been *trying* to get pregnant – I guess an immediate “Congratulations!” would have stung if this had been an accident. Anyhow, you’re absolutely no accident. I mentioned that your father and I conceived on our very first try and her response was – verbatim -

“WOW. You’re REALLY fertile!”

It’s a pretty weird response to something I had absolutely no control over whatsoever. You’re the one who decided that you want us to be your parents and you’re ready to enter the world. I just provided the biological starting point for you. This is really just pure luck, and while I’m immensely grateful for it, I can’t possibly take any credit.

I hope you’re happy in there. You’re making my boobs really sore, but I’m not having any kind of queasiness yet, so I can take it. I have absolutely no hunch as to what your gender may be – nor does it matter to me in the slightest – but your Oma is dead sure that you’re a girl. Your Gay Uncle Wendell thinks you’re a boy. Only time will tell. Personally, I would like Paul the Psychic Octopus to weigh in. I trust clairvoyant cephalopods implicitly. I hope you feel the same way because no matter what your gender, you’re probably going to have a nursery full of octopi. BECAUSE THEY’RE AWESOME.

Love,

Mama

Letter to Piglet, #1.

Sonika Post in Mama To Be Blogging，
31 August 2010
0

This post was written on July 6, 2010, but probably won’t be posted (for reasons that shall become clear) until the summer is over. There will undoubtedly be others like it to follow. Consider it a sort of time machine. After all, three months is like three thousand internet years.


Dear Piglet,

Three weeks ago, your father and I decided that the time was right. We were as ready as anyone ever gets to have a baby. Time to start the baby germinating process. I thought it would take us about six months to properly fertilize a baby, your father was a little more optimistic and believed we’d manage a baby on the first go.

I’m too superstitious, as you’ll undoubtedly find out, to ever believe in things like that and demanded that he shut his trap. Truly, anytime anyone expressed hope that we would have a baby, I shivered inside believing that they were dooming us to a life of infertility. DON’T YOU KNOW THE UNIVERSE CAN HEAR YOU?!

And so, when it became obvious that my menstrual cycle (I’ll tell you about THAT when you’re old enough to be totally grossed out and terrified by it) had stopped cycling, your father was convinced I was pregnant. I, on the other hand, was convinced my uterus was jetlagged from our recent trip to Portugal. By coincidence, MomBoss had a pregnancy test under her sink and told me to help myself to it if my period didn’t make an appearance.

Since the test was just THERE, y’know, just hangin’ out, I figured I’d give it a shot. If it was negative, I’d buy a box of tampons and move on with my life. I was sure it would be negative. After all, you can’t just grow a baby on the FIRST TRY. It’s unheard of!

Well, Piglet, we managed the impossible because that stick that I peed on (I might as well start embarrassing you now, you should just get used to it) said “ZOMG BLASTOCYST.” Actually, it just had a plus sign, but close enough.

I can hardly believe it. I feel very good, though there are definitely some signs in my body that you’re growing in there. For the next forty weeks, I am one body for two humans. Please try to respect your accommodations in there, I understand it’s going to get kind of cramped.  I bought you a gift today – a little Piglet for my Piglet. Your father wanted me to save my positive pregnancy test as a souvenir, but I rejected that on the basis that it has pee on it. I figured you would thank me.

I look forward to germinating you, little Piglet. Right now you’re the size of a poppy seed. Imagine that, you were once the size of a poppy seed. Crazy, huh?

Luv,

Mama.

(ZOMG, I’M GONNA BE SOMEONE’S MAMA.)

A New Type of Blog…

Sonika Post in Mama To Be Blogging，Tags: , ,
30 August 2010
1

I took a hiatus over the summer while I prepared for a new blog venture. Well, actually, the new blog venture is mirroring a new life venture. I am now full-on entering the world of the mommy blog. That’s right. I’m pregnant. Knocked up. Bun in the friggin’ oven.

Which is why I haven’t written all summer. Well, that’s a lie. I have. I just haven’t posted. I didn’t want to make the pregnancy public until the end of the first trimester, but I am AWFUL at keeping secrets, so it was hard to find things to write about that didn’t even remotely hint at the pregnancy. Moreover, having a full-time job that already exhausts me plus the exhaustion of growing a human has meant that I just haven’t had time or energy to write much. Hopefully the exhaustion will fade soon [EDIT: At time of posting, am at least 75% less exhausted!], and in any case, we’re out of the “danger zone” so I feel comfortable writing freely about my little “Piglet.”

I hope you’ve had a wonderful summer as well.

Here’s a silly little survey thingum, because I can.

What day did you find out?: July 6th.
How did you feel when you found out?: Shock. Total and utter shock. I never, ever thought (especially after all of my mother’s “Who knows if you’ll EVER get pregnant!” warnings – THNX MOM) that we would get pregnant on the first try. My hands shook and I muttered “Holy Shit” for a good three minutes.
Who was with you?: Just Thing 2. I tested at work. MomBoss and I were chatting and the baby subject just came up and I mentioned that Nuno thought I was pregnant since my period was ten days late and I thought he was mental. She mentioned that she had a test under the sink, and I was welcome to it. I was hesitant – I wanted to wait until my period was a full two weeks late, but I thought “Oh might as well and if it’s negative, I’ll test again next week.” Totally expected it to be negative. Totally wrong.
Who was the first person you told?: I called Nuno immediately.
How did they react?: He was half asleep and said “Oh, that’s very good news.”
How did the daddy react?: See above.
When is your due date?: March 11
How far along are you?: I am actually writing this at 6weeks6days, but it won’t be posted online until I’m at about 12 weeks.
As far as gender, what did you want?: Human! Either variety is perfect.
What did the daddy want?: I don’t know if he has a preference, but he kind of assumes it’s a boy.
Do you have a name picked out?: Yes, for either gender.
If so, what is it?: A few people know the names, but I’m not going to announce the baby’s name publicly until the birth. Especially since I meet the baby and realize “Oh. Your name ISN’T Sheldon* at all.”
Is your baby going to be named after someone?: Middle name with be after my daddy if it’s a boy or after my mama if it’s a girl. (I’ll be using their middle names for the baby’s middle name, not first names.)
Where was your baby conceived?: In a bed. Let’s leave it at that. Nuno and I know exactly when and where, but that’s really none of anyone else’s business. Sorry, internet.
Have you felt the baby move?: Obviously too early for that.
What race will your baby have?: White. Thankfully, s/he’ll only be *half* translucent. I’m half Swedish/25% German/25% Blue Blooded Mayflower-landing American. Nuno’s 100% Portuguese. I’m hoping our baby will get my freakishly huge eyes and Nuno’s amazing hair.
Do you have stretch marks?: Still too early for that yet.
What was your first symptom?: Low grade cramping. Nothing I took too seriously, it felt like pre-period cramps… except that they never stopped nor did my period ever arrive.
What religion will the baby know? Whatever religion s/he wants. I’m a Buddhist, Nuno was raised Catholic but is pretty a-religious. I know I’ll be supportive if our children want to explore various religious beliefs, and I can’t imagine Nuno having any problem with it as long as they’re doing so in a sane and healthy way and not, y’know, joining a cult.
Will your baby have godparents?: Yes – first baby’s godparents will be my best friend, Kat and her husband.
What is the baby’s room theme?: At first the theme is “Hi! You live in our room!” since we have a 1BR apartment. After we move next summer and baby has his/her own room, we’ll probably decide on some kind of neutral theme that s/he can grow into.
Cravings: One day I had to eat cream cheese. Had to. Couldn’t get enough cream cheese. Another day, I had to have a Quarter Pounder from McDonald’s. It was imperative. Other than that, nothing really. No constant cravings, though I certainly could happily go on a Quarter Pounder diet. Not going to do that though since not only do I value this proto-human, I value my own arteries.

*It’s a longstanding joke that my children will inevitably all be nerds named Sheldon, but I promise you, this is not actually the boy’s name we’ve picked.

Hiatus.

Sonika Post in Uncategorized，
14 July 2010
0

I’m going to be taking the rest of the summer off from blogging. Well, not exactly. I may or may not write, but I won’t be posting anything here probably until the end of August as I contemplate taking this project in a new direction.

Have a wonderful rest of your summer!

The One With The Marines.

Sonika Post in The One With...，Tags: , ,
08 July 2010
0

Y’know, sometimes my life really is a sitcom. Seriously. There’s this stuff that happens that I swear comes out of a reject episode of Seinfeld (a sitcom I don’t even particularly like, but being about “nothing” is a pretty good analogy as my incidents don’t always have a plot line). Like yesterday.

We’re going through a heat wave here in the North East. Not even a heat wave, really. We’re going through a heat tsunami. Sure, in Rhode Island, we have some 100F days… usually three of them. In August. Thus far we’ve had three in a row and it’s only the first week of July. GOOD TIMES. The work fam doesn’t have A/C and I’ve been spending a lot of time lying on a Slip and Slide and being “ridden” like a “crocodile.” I didn’t bother change  before coming home yesterday, and so was walking from my car to my door in my bathing suit.

I live in the middle of downtown Providence and walking around my building from the back – where my car is – to the front – where the door is – brings me across the street from a building that among other things hosts the local military recruitment offices. It’s not unusual to see men in uniform talking on their cellphones or drinking their coffees outside the door. It’s also not unusual to see the urban poor lining up in front of the building as it’s the Social Security office as well. They’re more likely to be smoking cigarettes and/or trying to bum for same than talking on their cellphones.

He was not wearing one of these uniforms, though it would have been cool if he was. Coincidentally, there’s a marching band that practices in front of my house on Monday nights, but I’m pretty sure that they have nothing to do with the Marines. Photo by Flickr user prayitno.

As I turned the corner toward the front of the building, a uniformed Marine walked up to me and started to talk to me. I tried to walk away politely, afraid that he was going to start hitting on me as I was wandering around in a bathing suit. But no. I needed to get my distance for completely different reasons.

UNIFORMED DUDE

Hi!

SONJA

Hi.

UNIFORMED DUDE

So, do you want to be a Marine?

SONJA

No thanks.

UNIFORMED DUDE

Why not?

SONJA

I have a… medical condition… [note: this is not a lie. The Marines would not want the likes of me.]

Yep. That was his sales pitch. Right there. Hard to see how anyone could really say no. He went on to make more casual small talk about the neighborhood and my building and rent prices… as if asking me to join the Marines wasn’t awkward enough, let’s ask how much my rent costs! Thanks! I told him that I don’t really have that information as the apartment is my fiancé’s, not mine. (This also happens to be true. And the fact that I don’t pay rent is why I can afford health insurance, but that’s another issue having nothing to do with this particular interaction.)

And the awkwardness…

UNIFORMED DUDE

So, your fiancé… does HE want to be a Marine?

ME

Nope. He’s not an American citizen.

UNIFORMED DUDE

Oh. I see. Does he have permanent residence… a work visa… ?

ME

He’s a student, but you get an A for effort.

At which point I was finally able to escape into my own home and out of the clutches of the United States Marines. I’d be happy to write a note to this gentleman’s superiors if they ever doubt his dedication to the recruitment efforts.

Wensleydale Wednesday.

Sonika Post in Wensleydale Wednesday，Tags: , , ,
07 July 2010
0

It’s been an awesome week, but one too busy for blogging. I hope to remedy that soon.

In the meantime, this is my very favorite stupid thing that Wensleydale does. It never ceases to amuse me when she simply forgets that she has that leg up in the air.

The One With the Hormones.

Sonika Post in The One With...，Tags: , , , , ,
01 July 2010
6

I have the worst case of PMS in the history of PMS. It might prove to be fatal. I’m not sure to whom, but it is possible that fatalities will occur if I do not get my period five minutes ago. I am so damned cranky, I don’t even want to be around myself. This has been notable twice today, the first time in this IM conversation with my good friend, Sarah.

One time, when I had raging PMS, I ate this combo and it was the most delicious snack I’ve ever had. Without hormonal influence, it looks pretty awful.

SONJA

One of my moms very devoutly Christian friends once said “When I get to heaven, I’m going to ask some questions about hormones.”Wise woman.  Once I actually get my period, I’ll have cramps, but I prefer them to being so g-ddamn irritable.

SARAH

Haaa. We do kinda get the short end of the stick somewhat there. Except the same hormones are responsible for the baby stuff, so I can’t really begrudge them.

SONJA

It’s true. There’s a payoff. But DAMN IT ALL TO HELL the heartache.

SARAH

Just … the menfolk should get some too. Grrr

SONJA

Yes. Though really, if you think about it… If they got cranky in the same pattern… Perhaps the only reason that we haven’t faced total annhilation is that men DON’T have a menstrual cycle. Though I agree that they got the biologically sweet end of the deal. (I’m also glad I’m not a dude because testicles are just hilarious.)

SARH

Haaa. You’re so right on that, though.
If men got the hormones? Oh lord. It would result in some SERIOUSLY cranky menfolk.

SONJA

“I have PMS and an army! I KILL EVERYONE!”

SARAH

“I AM PMSING AND A MALE AND I AM GOING TO RUN AT YOU WITH A SWORD!”

SONJA

“YOU SHALL FACE THE WRATH OF MY FISTS!” They wouldn’t just cry and eat Doritos. Oh no.

SARAH

Ha. Well, there is the chance they would JUST cry and eat doritos.

SONJA

True.

SARAH

But instead of a little snack bag, like, a bag of doritos from Costco.

SONJA

International diplomacy would shut down when the President had PMS.  “The President is indisposed today.”

SARAH

(“He is crying in a ball under his desk.”)

SONJA

“In other news, Doritos stock has gone up 7 points!”

SARAH

And Ben & Jerrys would be ordered to make half gallons of ice cream.

SONJA

HALF gallons? They’d have to sell industrial sized vats. A vat of Ben and Jerry’s the size of a baby.

SARAH

Heh. “WHERE IS MY TUB OF AMERICONE DREAM?”

SONJA

“YOU MOVED MY ICECREAM?! YOU MUST DIE.”  I think Margaret Cho’s take on men having periods is spot on, but she clearly didn’t think through men having PMS.

SARAH

I mean, they’d pretty much have to take the red phone out of the office.

SONJA

“Yes, uh, the red phone. It’s being… cleaned.”

SARAH

“Sir, yes, uh, we were … getting a new button on it? Here’s your midol. and a heatpack.”

Now, of course, a woman will eventually be President and prove to us all that beings with PMS can govern effectively, but the funny part is to imagine a powerful (presumably) heterosexual man with PMS.

Which brings us to…

My own powerful, heterosexual man chose tonight to “propose.” If by “propose” you mean: We’ve been planning a wedding and he had a ring for me and he was hiding it under some wires for the past two months and was just waiting for a night when I was really tired to surprise me by sneaking up behind me in the kitchen and flashing out this RING. And then saying “I guess that’s yes?” when I say “OH MY GOD.” Geezus, you have to ask the question first. But since we’ve already booked a photographer and musicians (albeit friends of the family in both cases), I THINK THAT’S A YES.

Say what you will about your traditional romantic proposal (He says he was going to propose in Algarve, but forgot the ring.), my partner wants to marry me when I have PMS and am too cranky to live. That, right there, is love.

And this, right here, is my MOTHER EFFIN’ RING.

Wensleydale…Thursday.

Sonika Post in Wensleydale Wednesday，Tags: , , , ,
01 July 2010
0

Wow. Jetlag is eating my concept of time. Forgive me, I’ve had less brainpower than usual for writing blog posts and knowing what day it is.

I have both boys all day this week – usually Thing 1 has preschool in the mornings, so this is a more exhausting variation on the routine. Also, they just got back from California, so there have been 8hours between us. I’ve been 5 hours ahead, they’ve been 3 hours behind. Let me tell you, that’s just AWESOME. (Not.)

Anyhow. You’ll notice this isn’t Wensleydale either. This is Juliet, who sits in Portugal reminding me that I need to write more and I need to edit my photos and post them.

The Dark Side.

Sonika Post in Uncategorized，Tags: , ,
28 June 2010
2

I feel it’s only fair after yesterday’s entry to write about some of the uniquely American flaws that I’ve noticed in my travels. Oh, my countrymen. I love us, but man… (I’m limiting this to things I’m guilty of myself, so as not to be pointing fingers here.)

The Not So Dark Side by Flickr user jojakeman

  • Americans have a very low brain to mouth barrier. Man, I have said somethings where I think to myself “Wow. I said that outloud?” Not things that are offensive, but certainly I don’t always think before I talk and I end up looking like the Gold Medal Winner at the Dumb Olympics. Partly this is just because I personally talk a lot, but I’ve noticed this with TONS of Americans. Do we think before we talk? Probably not. Do we think after we talk? I can only hope.
  • Americans will suddenly decide that they “know better.” Perfect illustration of this – the Lisbon airport. There are electronic passport scanners. Myself and four other Americans wander over and stick our passports in. Nothing happens. We try again. A Spanish woman gets through. We start turning our passports around and trying AGAIN. Finally, SOMEONE alerts us to the giant sign above the machine: “European Passports Only.” Smooth, us. Smooth.
  • While we love our family, we don’t always respect them. The Portuguese have us beat here. By a long shot. My relationship with my Portuguese boyfriend has improved my relationship with my family members a thousand fold because when I start being a smartass, he’ll remind me “Dude. It’s your FAMILY.” And he’s right. Blood is blood and we really don’t take that seriously all that often.
  • We’re slaves to the man. This is the downside to the American work ethic. Our jobs come first, at the expense of our families and our personal lives. I truly feel that part of the reason that more Americans aren’t better traveled is that there just isn’t time for it. I have five paid vacation days and Federal Holidays off. In addition to that, my bosses are lenient about the occasional unpaid day here and there. Still, my family is scattered around and my partner’s family is in Portugal. After I’ve spent one holiday with each contingent of various relatives and some time in Portugal… I have no time for an actual vacation. I can’t even remember the last time I went somewhere because I felt like it. I work 10 hours a day and over here, that’s totally normal. When I go abroad, people look at me with pity like I’m toiling away in a sweatshop. It has its benefits – we get shit done – but the drawback is that our work is our life and when we lose our jobs, we lose our sense of self. This is especially sucky in these troubled economic times.

C’mon guys. Fess up. What are your national flaws?

What I Learned In Portugal…About Being An American.

Sonika Post in Uncategorized，Tags: , , ,
28 June 2010
3

This is a kind of follow-up to a guest post I did over on my friend Kelsey’s blog, Driftingfocus. She focuses a lot on travel/lifestyle themes, so I thought my little spiel about “International Relations” would be a good fit. This rambling about national identity is more personal, so you’re stuck with it here even though it doesn’t involve anything particularly hilarious, odd, or my cat. Sorry.

I spent the past week in Portugal, and there’s nothing like being in a foreign country to remind you of your own nation’s particular quirks. The contrast with Portugal is especially strong – I didn’t feel nearly the same different-ness in Iceland, but that might just be because my own family is Scandinavian and there really wasn’t the same amount of cultural distance. Being an American of Scandinavian descent in a Catholic family-oriented culture like Portugal… well, it’s a big contrast, even for the relatively homogenized Western World.

When we’re in Portugal, Nuno tends to see the positives of his own culture (family oriented, value face-to-face contact) as negatives for Americans, and I kinda bristle at that a bit. It’s certainly a different set of values, and this is my own list of what I’ve learned about myself as an American from spending time in not-America places. Mind you, I’m not overly “proud” of my country of origin – my feelings are summed up best by Allen Ginsberg – but Margaret Cho said it best: “I’m a fucking American, damnit.”

Photo by Flickr user hotash.

  • Americans are friendly as fuck. Ok, so the Portuguese spend more “social” time, that’s for sure. The time that they spend with their friends and family face-to-face is several orders of magnitude above what we Americans devote to our loved ones (who, by the way, we don’t value any less thankyouverymuch). BUT. Americans? Will just start talking at you. No matter who you are. Strangers. Blab blab blab. Sure, the small talk with the cashier might get annoying when you’re waiting in line and there are five people in front of you, all of whom yammer on for what feels like eons. But when you’re in a foreign country and you realize that you’re starting ALL of the conversations and that no one else is really big on the small talk… it feels kinda lonely. I’ve never encountered people just chit-chatting in line or at a bus-stop anywhere in my European travels. Say what you will about how irritating it is in the US, it feels weird when it’s gone.
  • There is indeed an upside to the American work ethic. This is one of the biggest divides between the European/American mindsets – the difference between twenty-five days of paid vacation… and five. One of the upsides? When you go into a business that offers a service, that service (more often than not) GETS DONE. You’re not eternally waiting around with a pervasive sense of disorganization. There are huge downsides to this as well, but one huge upside is that things like, oh, passport control, are much more efficient in the US than in places where the work ethic is more laissez-faire. (And of course, there are places that are even better at organizing than we are, but we’re not horrible at it.)
  • Americans value personal freedom. Sure, we don’t go out with our families in parties of 10 every day, but the flip side of that is that we have more free time to ourselves. We value this time immensely. Not having ANY free time for a week started making me feel a little wobbly around the edges. We value the freedom to pursue our own activities and the privacy that it is sometimes necessary to do so.
  • The American dream has a bit of merit. The idea of working yourself up by your bootstraps and making your life better because you want to becomes very appealing when contrasted a society where these values aren’t, well, valued. There’s a certain amount of nepotism everywhere, but there’s much less in the US – which is focused on the individual – than in places that are focused on the family and using said family connections to climb up the proverbial ladder.

I will end by saying that while I appreciate my fellow Americans’ good qualities, we have a fair amount that we could learn about respect and the value of family and face-time from the Portuguese. And I imagine there’s a hell of a lot more we could learn from a hell of a lot of other people as well.

Thoughts? Anything you’ve noticed about Americans or your own country of origin from your own travels?

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