So I found a happy place.
Waterfire in Providence, 2004 or 2005.
Of course, now I miss the sun (yes, I know it's dark in that picture), the sand (yes, I know Waterfire isn't on a beach), and my family. But I still really love that picture.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Today's Happy Place
This morning has sucked.
So I found a happy place.
Waterfire in Providence, 2004 or 2005.
Of course, now I miss the sun (yes, I know it's dark in that picture), the sand (yes, I know Waterfire isn't on a beach), and my family. But I still really love that picture.
So I found a happy place.
Waterfire in Providence, 2004 or 2005.
Of course, now I miss the sun (yes, I know it's dark in that picture), the sand (yes, I know Waterfire isn't on a beach), and my family. But I still really love that picture.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Can You Please Fix This For Me?
I love summer. I LOVE it. I love the warmth and the scalding heat, the quality of the light, the million amazing intensified smells, the sounds--yes, even the cicadas and the pheromone-laden bass overload from drivers who are newly 16...it's my season. I thrive in it.
I don't like complaining. Complaining is different than a good old fashioned bitch-fest with a friend, which is both desirable and necessary on certain occasions. But people whose main mode of discussion or existence revolves around how bad things are drive me nuts. That is not conversation. Either do something about it, or suck it up and shut up. Especially if you're complaining about the weather. Especially if you're going to say global warming probably doesn't exist, or doesn't matter enough for you to change your habits. If I can go two weeks in winter without feeling my toes and still respond to "cold enough for you?" with "well, I haven't felt my toes for twelve days, but I'm grateful that I have a house and heat!" and a smile on my face, then you can stop griping.
But even with those two fundamental aspects of my personality out there, and even if I adjust my threshold of "too hot" to be 90 instead of 95, I am over The Hot. It needs to be done. It was 92 here today. And because I only drank 24 oz of water before leaving the house for church instead of my usual morning 32, and because I did not drink another 32 oz of water between church and the farmer's market, I wound up nearly passing out on the way home. And I have been a useless lump since walking through our door and downing a 12 oz ginger ale, 16 oz of chilled red raspberry leaf tea, and 32 oz of water, then laying down to read. Then getting up to get more liquid, then peeing, then laying down and resting. Then getting up to pee, then getting more liquid, then laying down and resting. Repeat. A lot. (Sidenote: I've officially decided that, fabulous as True Blood is, the Sookie Stackhouse novels are infinitely better. She's far more interesting and less sniveling, and there's less of a rushed, gotta-fit-everything-in-at-once globby mess of a plot. The show does Lafayette better. The books do everything else better. Anyway.)
And as good as I usually am about drinking lots, and lots, and lots, of water--over 100 oz a day doesn't bother me--apparently The Hot means I need at least 150% of this. And that's just too much. And since I like not passing out, and I like Bugbear, no matter how much I like being warm, I need The Hot to go away. I'll still happily settle for 89 and sunny (bonus points if the breeze off the lake magically reaches me), but this over 90 stuff needs to be done.
Bugbear is fine with this. Bugbear has taken my increased fluid intake to mean it's time to play the xylophone from the inside of my right ribs with renewed gusto. S/he has even been happy to provide the headbutt to my bladder that reminds me to empty it and make room for more fluid. But if the weather listens to you, and you could put in a good word with September for me about getting this sorted out, I'd appreciate it.
I don't like complaining. Complaining is different than a good old fashioned bitch-fest with a friend, which is both desirable and necessary on certain occasions. But people whose main mode of discussion or existence revolves around how bad things are drive me nuts. That is not conversation. Either do something about it, or suck it up and shut up. Especially if you're complaining about the weather. Especially if you're going to say global warming probably doesn't exist, or doesn't matter enough for you to change your habits. If I can go two weeks in winter without feeling my toes and still respond to "cold enough for you?" with "well, I haven't felt my toes for twelve days, but I'm grateful that I have a house and heat!" and a smile on my face, then you can stop griping.
But even with those two fundamental aspects of my personality out there, and even if I adjust my threshold of "too hot" to be 90 instead of 95, I am over The Hot. It needs to be done. It was 92 here today. And because I only drank 24 oz of water before leaving the house for church instead of my usual morning 32, and because I did not drink another 32 oz of water between church and the farmer's market, I wound up nearly passing out on the way home. And I have been a useless lump since walking through our door and downing a 12 oz ginger ale, 16 oz of chilled red raspberry leaf tea, and 32 oz of water, then laying down to read. Then getting up to get more liquid, then peeing, then laying down and resting. Then getting up to pee, then getting more liquid, then laying down and resting. Repeat. A lot. (Sidenote: I've officially decided that, fabulous as True Blood is, the Sookie Stackhouse novels are infinitely better. She's far more interesting and less sniveling, and there's less of a rushed, gotta-fit-everything-in-at-once globby mess of a plot. The show does Lafayette better. The books do everything else better. Anyway.)
And as good as I usually am about drinking lots, and lots, and lots, of water--over 100 oz a day doesn't bother me--apparently The Hot means I need at least 150% of this. And that's just too much. And since I like not passing out, and I like Bugbear, no matter how much I like being warm, I need The Hot to go away. I'll still happily settle for 89 and sunny (bonus points if the breeze off the lake magically reaches me), but this over 90 stuff needs to be done.
Bugbear is fine with this. Bugbear has taken my increased fluid intake to mean it's time to play the xylophone from the inside of my right ribs with renewed gusto. S/he has even been happy to provide the headbutt to my bladder that reminds me to empty it and make room for more fluid. But if the weather listens to you, and you could put in a good word with September for me about getting this sorted out, I'd appreciate it.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
28 weeks.
Even the most non-mathematically-inclined websites are calling this third trimester. I am...not into it. Somewhere between five and fourteen weeks from now, I'm going to be a parent. And while I may have some super cute bedding, and I'm not of the "ohmygawd I need STUFF before I'm ready for a baby!" school of thought, I'm just plain not ready.
I'm tired. I'm psychoemotionally drained from a very long and difficult summer. I'm struggling with depression, and even without that added challenge, I have very little patience and very few filters thanks to my hormones. Add to that the gallons of unrequested advice about pregnancy, parenthood, what we do or don't need, and general commentary that just keeps pouring in, and I find myself wondering whether there exists a nuclear fallout-type shelter specially constructed to prevent its inhabitants from The Dumb. And then I find myself wondering how long one could hide out in this mythical shelter, and how much extra it would cost to make it invisible even to the almighty and frankly kinda creepy GoogleMaps.
So that's what's up this week. And last.
In other news...
How pregnant are you? 28 weeks. Also known as seven months. Also known as 84 days until our due date.
Relate this pregnancy to objects we tend to eat or other everyday things. Bugbear is roughly 14.5-16" long at this point, the diameter of the front tire on the original BigWheel, but not the size of many fruits or vegetables that we've been able to find. In spite of the lack of fruit comparisons, Bugbear will probably grow another 1/2" this week. S/he is probably 2.5-4 pounds at this point. That sounds small. It feels huge. S/he is also up to around 3% body fat, which will continue to increase as healthy growth continues.
Tell me some random stuff about the Bugbear. It's brain time! Instead of a flat surface, his/her brain is gaining the wrinkles that make a brain look like a brain, as well as developing rapid synapses and building practice at other important functions. Bugbear's eyes are able to open at least partially, and s/he is practicing blinking, and might even close his/her eyes or move away if we were to shine a bright light at my belly. Additionally, s/he is practicing new lung movements like coughing, sucking, and hiccuping, in addition to the practice breathing. I haven't felt any hiccups yet (knock wood) and I'm totally fine with that. There's enough other movement, often visible from the outside, that I'm confident he/she is just fine in there without feeling hiccups.
Tell me how you feel physically. Tell me how you'd feel if your inside bits looked like this:
and I'll tell you whether you're right (image from http://www.childbirthconnection.org/article.asp?ck=10241). I'm having fairly constant but unpredictable heartburn--pizza, bad. Cranberry juice with Sprite, fine. Plain water, bad. Water with ice, fine. Mint Tums, helpful. Fruit Tums...you really don't want to know what it's like to buy fruit Tums at Costco and then find out that when you eat them, you burp fruit flavored chalk for six hours. It's sad.
I'm also having pubic symphysis pain. Lay on your back and put your hands down at the bottom of your abdomen, below the butterfly-looking bits of your hips. Feel the bones that are small and at the very bottom of your pelvis in the front, below where your tail bone is in the back? That's your pubic symphysis. Now imagine a combination of a charlie horse and a bone bruise. That's what it feels like. Hopefully, nothing is splitting (in pregnant women, abdominal muscles can separate down the center of the abdomen, resulting in all sorts of fun issues), it's just something random and painful. I am looking into one of those ultra sexy maternity support girdles, but I just can't bring myself to even think about how freaking itchy and miserable it would be, much less actually get one. And though some may claim it's "the latest style to wear them over the clothing as a fashion statement," I'm simply not that hawt.
What are you craving? It depends on the day. I had one day where all I wanted was sugar, another where all I wanted was whole grains and veggies, and another where it was all I could do not to go buy a box of Kraft Macaroni & Cheese and then eat it. Nothing consistent, though I am very excited about the fresh avocados, organic tomatoes, and buffalo mozzarella that I picked up today.
Are you crazy emotional? Yep.
I'm tired. I'm psychoemotionally drained from a very long and difficult summer. I'm struggling with depression, and even without that added challenge, I have very little patience and very few filters thanks to my hormones. Add to that the gallons of unrequested advice about pregnancy, parenthood, what we do or don't need, and general commentary that just keeps pouring in, and I find myself wondering whether there exists a nuclear fallout-type shelter specially constructed to prevent its inhabitants from The Dumb. And then I find myself wondering how long one could hide out in this mythical shelter, and how much extra it would cost to make it invisible even to the almighty and frankly kinda creepy GoogleMaps.
So that's what's up this week. And last.
In other news...
How pregnant are you? 28 weeks. Also known as seven months. Also known as 84 days until our due date.
Relate this pregnancy to objects we tend to eat or other everyday things. Bugbear is roughly 14.5-16" long at this point, the diameter of the front tire on the original BigWheel, but not the size of many fruits or vegetables that we've been able to find. In spite of the lack of fruit comparisons, Bugbear will probably grow another 1/2" this week. S/he is probably 2.5-4 pounds at this point. That sounds small. It feels huge. S/he is also up to around 3% body fat, which will continue to increase as healthy growth continues.
Tell me some random stuff about the Bugbear. It's brain time! Instead of a flat surface, his/her brain is gaining the wrinkles that make a brain look like a brain, as well as developing rapid synapses and building practice at other important functions. Bugbear's eyes are able to open at least partially, and s/he is practicing blinking, and might even close his/her eyes or move away if we were to shine a bright light at my belly. Additionally, s/he is practicing new lung movements like coughing, sucking, and hiccuping, in addition to the practice breathing. I haven't felt any hiccups yet (knock wood) and I'm totally fine with that. There's enough other movement, often visible from the outside, that I'm confident he/she is just fine in there without feeling hiccups.
Tell me how you feel physically. Tell me how you'd feel if your inside bits looked like this:
I'm also having pubic symphysis pain. Lay on your back and put your hands down at the bottom of your abdomen, below the butterfly-looking bits of your hips. Feel the bones that are small and at the very bottom of your pelvis in the front, below where your tail bone is in the back? That's your pubic symphysis. Now imagine a combination of a charlie horse and a bone bruise. That's what it feels like. Hopefully, nothing is splitting (in pregnant women, abdominal muscles can separate down the center of the abdomen, resulting in all sorts of fun issues), it's just something random and painful. I am looking into one of those ultra sexy maternity support girdles, but I just can't bring myself to even think about how freaking itchy and miserable it would be, much less actually get one. And though some may claim it's "the latest style to wear them over the clothing as a fashion statement," I'm simply not that hawt.
What are you craving? It depends on the day. I had one day where all I wanted was sugar, another where all I wanted was whole grains and veggies, and another where it was all I could do not to go buy a box of Kraft Macaroni & Cheese and then eat it. Nothing consistent, though I am very excited about the fresh avocados, organic tomatoes, and buffalo mozzarella that I picked up today.
Are you crazy emotional? Yep.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Having A Healthy Baby Is Not All That Matters
Michael made the off-handed comment this weekend that “telling Krista all that matters about pregnancy and giving birth is having a healthy baby at the end is a really good way to piss her off.” He’s right.
I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately.
And I cannot come to any conclusion other than this: Having a healthy baby is not all that matters. Having a healthy baby cannot be all that matters if we actually want social systems and norms that are worth handing over to those babies. When we say that having a healthy baby is all that matters, we become participants in a system that says women cannot know themselves, cannot make good decisions, and are worth less as human subjects than they are as carriers of babies. A healthy baby matters, but that cannot be all that matters. Choice, responsibility, and change must become vital parts of pregnancy if we want it to be something other than dehumanizing and invasive.
Choice
Bugbear was a surprise, hence the nickname.
Bugbear is now loved and very much wanted.
Just as I could not have come to this point without the legal right to choose safe medical abortion (that’s a post for another day), I cannot come to be a parent without being respected throughout that process. Having the choice to make informed decisions, based on knowledge of all my options, is a vital part of this.
If I am not involved in the medical care that impacts both me and my fetus, then I do not have a choice about what is going on. Informed consent is a vital part of any trustworthy relationship that involves choice. Informed consent cannot be consent without real information. Much as we would love infallible information that would make the difficult decisions easy, medicine cannot provide that for us. And so informed consent has to include both positive and negative potential outcomes in order to be informed and make a meaningful choice. This is icky. It means we have to admit fallibility and reliance on procedure more than practical individual attention. Moreover, the choices that come out of information have to be respected, or they don’t count.
There is, necessarily, more than one being involved in this mess that is pregnancy. In our case, there’s Bugbear, whom I very much love and want to be healthy. There’s Michael, whom I very much love and want to be healthy. And there’s me, whom I need to love and whose health is a constant project. To claim that all that matters is a healthy baby is to kick out of the equation those who are capable of making any choices, who already exist as human subjects, and whose bodies are subjected to medical attention and intervention. In the face of that pressure, I find myself ignoring, dismissing, and not loving myself as much as I should, all in the name of maintaining a sort of tenuous compliance with American notions of health.
Responsibility
Compliance is a huge part of what we consider health. We have all sorts of problems with defining health, but we somehow know what a good patient who wants to be healthy looks like. Good patients often hand over responsibility for their choices in exchange for being considered responsible in their actions. I will wholeheartedly agree that medical professionals often know more than I about health and illness. But I’m not going to ask a cardiologist for breastfeeding advice, and I’m not going to ask a family practitioner to read neurological scans with the same expertise as someone who spends her working hours examining brain pictures. I am, at the very least, responsible for choosing what I ask of whom.
By no stretch of the imagination am I am neo-con. Talking about personal responsibility often gives me hives because of the political connotations. But responsibility in a medical situation needs to be addressed, and to be handled differently if pregnancy has any hope of moving beyond being all about “the baby.” If I am seen as incapable, irresponsible, or not needing to be burdened by pesky facts and choices, then I cannot be responsible, because I am not even treated as human.
So what does that have to do with pregnancy?
Everything.
Pregnancy is not only about “the baby.” There are other things, like how I am treated, by whom, and to what end, that do matter. Do these matter more than “a healthy baby,” whatever that means? I don’t know. But I shouldn’t have to choose.
Change
Women are only going to be respected and treated as equals when we not only request it, but demand it and expect it. We must stop being so concerned with being good patients that we willingly write ourselves out of our pregnancies, in the name of "good" doctor-patient relationships, in the name of “they know more and therefore they know best,” and in the name of having healthy babies at the expense of all else.
If I want a broken system of relationships to change, I need to become a vital part of my own care. So long as there is a risk that blanket admissions consent forms mean that things can show up in my vagina when I don’t want them there, that I can be restrained without consent, and that I can be harassed, coerced, or made to feel less than others because my beliefs and desires do not coincide with norms, I am not a vital part of my own care. When those things happen, and are considered perfectly acceptable because I come out of an ordeal with a healthy baby, I am an incubator, a dehumanized cog, a woman whose use value is higher than her actual worth. And those things must change. Like so much other social change, this isn’t exactly convenient. Fortunately for the change I want to be in the world, though, I’m not about convenience.
I’m in good company, though. Babies aren’t so much about convenience either. There is nothing stopping Bugbear stopping from turning breech at 42 weeks, or deciding that s/he’s done cooking and wants to come out NOW in the middle of my taking an exam. And nobody is telling my fetus that so long as mom is healthy and happy, what s/he wants doesn’t matter and should be dismissed out of hand. Mutual respect is probably a bit much to expect of a fetus, but respect for both those being born and those giving birth should be a minimum in this world, not a goal we have to fight for.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
26 Week Update
What happened to week 25? I skipped it. Moving is intense, emotional, and invasive. And while I am grateful beyond words to the many people who made it possible, I needed time away from being exposed and chatting about my inside bits.
How pregnant are you? 26 weeks--6.5 months pregnant. Eleven to sixteen weeks until we meet our healthy and fully gestated Bugbear!
Relate this pregnancy to objects we tend to eat or other daily stuff. Bugbear is just awkwardly sized at this point. S/he's probably around 13" long---the length of a small pineapple or an English hothouse cucumber--and weighing around 2 pounds now. The placenta is roughly equal in size to Bugbear, though it won't grow much more, while Bugbear will.
Tell me some random stuff about the Bugbear. Bugbear's circulatory system is now fully functional, and his/her lungs continue to develop and practice breathing. His/her eyes may be opening, and s/he will start blinking sometime in the next two weeks. The eyes themselves still have very little pigment so that they're blue right now, though they will probably change later in life. The neural pathways that will process sight and sound are developing, and though s/he obviously has no way of attaching meaning to anything yet, familiar sounds will be recognizable after s/he is born, and his/her responses to light will become more developed over the next few months.
The hair on Bugbear's head, if it exists, still lacks pigment, but will start developing it over the next few weeks (like eyes, the color may well change). The lanugo hair that covered his/her body earlier is starting to come off, and will be mostly shed within the next 6 weeks. S/he has been developing sweat and oil glands, and those are now functional. The bits of shed skin and oil that s/he is creating become part of the amniotic fluid, which is now replaced every hour.
What are you doing with/for Bugbear that's new? Now that Michael can reliably feel Bugbear kick, we're taking time for them to "play" each day. I still can't tell the difference between his/her head, butt, and back, other than that they all feel hard-ish and are not the things that kick/punch/dance; I do spend time when s/he's quiet kind of poking around, wondering whether I can actually tell what things are, or I just want to be able to tell.
In spite of Bugbear's lack of input, we've also purchased all the fabric for a crib skirt, fitted and flat sheets, teething guards, pillows s/he won't get until s/he is older, a hanging book nook, storage boxes, and probably some scrap fabric toys. None of it is made yet, but it's available.
Tell me how you feel physically. I've gained 16 pounds, and every ounce of it is hanging out on the front of my body. I feel huge; I cannot fathom gaining another 10 pounds by mid-November.
I love that I'm still able to work out, but I've had to switch to more aerobic and weight lifting and less yoga because the relaxin is killing my joints. If I stretch too much, which happens unintentionally in some of my favorite poses, I feel like a marionette, limbs just hanging out of my joints and uncontrollable. It's really unpleasant, painful even, and will wake me up; so yoga is weekly instead of daily, and I'm getting accustomed to it even as I don't like it.
In news of the physically weird, I've started getting nosebleeds while sleeping, which is really common during pregnancy, but also disconcerting.
What are you craving? A night where I sleep straight through without waking. Or lots of zucchini sauteed with onions and topped with cheese and tomatoes.
Are you crazy emotional? Yep.
Tell me how you feel otherwise. I'm starting to get excited for my classes to start in September, even as I'm nervous about how pregnancy will impact my abilities to be a strong student. Even as things have settled down in some respects, life is still stressful and unpredictable, full of moments that we just can't plan for, which wears on us. I get to see my mom next weekend, which is super exciting, and hopefully will be refreshing in spite of the million things that we have to get done.
How pregnant are you? 26 weeks--6.5 months pregnant. Eleven to sixteen weeks until we meet our healthy and fully gestated Bugbear!
Relate this pregnancy to objects we tend to eat or other daily stuff. Bugbear is just awkwardly sized at this point. S/he's probably around 13" long---the length of a small pineapple or an English hothouse cucumber--and weighing around 2 pounds now. The placenta is roughly equal in size to Bugbear, though it won't grow much more, while Bugbear will.
Tell me some random stuff about the Bugbear. Bugbear's circulatory system is now fully functional, and his/her lungs continue to develop and practice breathing. His/her eyes may be opening, and s/he will start blinking sometime in the next two weeks. The eyes themselves still have very little pigment so that they're blue right now, though they will probably change later in life. The neural pathways that will process sight and sound are developing, and though s/he obviously has no way of attaching meaning to anything yet, familiar sounds will be recognizable after s/he is born, and his/her responses to light will become more developed over the next few months.
The hair on Bugbear's head, if it exists, still lacks pigment, but will start developing it over the next few weeks (like eyes, the color may well change). The lanugo hair that covered his/her body earlier is starting to come off, and will be mostly shed within the next 6 weeks. S/he has been developing sweat and oil glands, and those are now functional. The bits of shed skin and oil that s/he is creating become part of the amniotic fluid, which is now replaced every hour.
What are you doing with/for Bugbear that's new? Now that Michael can reliably feel Bugbear kick, we're taking time for them to "play" each day. I still can't tell the difference between his/her head, butt, and back, other than that they all feel hard-ish and are not the things that kick/punch/dance; I do spend time when s/he's quiet kind of poking around, wondering whether I can actually tell what things are, or I just want to be able to tell.
In spite of Bugbear's lack of input, we've also purchased all the fabric for a crib skirt, fitted and flat sheets, teething guards, pillows s/he won't get until s/he is older, a hanging book nook, storage boxes, and probably some scrap fabric toys. None of it is made yet, but it's available.
Tell me how you feel physically. I've gained 16 pounds, and every ounce of it is hanging out on the front of my body. I feel huge; I cannot fathom gaining another 10 pounds by mid-November.
I love that I'm still able to work out, but I've had to switch to more aerobic and weight lifting and less yoga because the relaxin is killing my joints. If I stretch too much, which happens unintentionally in some of my favorite poses, I feel like a marionette, limbs just hanging out of my joints and uncontrollable. It's really unpleasant, painful even, and will wake me up; so yoga is weekly instead of daily, and I'm getting accustomed to it even as I don't like it.
In news of the physically weird, I've started getting nosebleeds while sleeping, which is really common during pregnancy, but also disconcerting.
What are you craving? A night where I sleep straight through without waking. Or lots of zucchini sauteed with onions and topped with cheese and tomatoes.
Are you crazy emotional? Yep.
Tell me how you feel otherwise. I'm starting to get excited for my classes to start in September, even as I'm nervous about how pregnancy will impact my abilities to be a strong student. Even as things have settled down in some respects, life is still stressful and unpredictable, full of moments that we just can't plan for, which wears on us. I get to see my mom next weekend, which is super exciting, and hopefully will be refreshing in spite of the million things that we have to get done.
Monday, August 9, 2010
Saturday, August 7, 2010
Kickin' Butt, Bladder, Etc.
Bugbear is kicking butt. And bladder. And various other squishable internal organs. S/he even found my stomach and made me burp the other day.
And at yesterday's midwife appointment, s/he kicked visibly while flipping around to run away from the doppler. His/her nickname has gone from Ute Ninja to BeeGee, because s/he has daily dance parties at 3pm, 6-8pm, 10pm, 4am, 6am, and 7:30am, and a ninja would not be that predictable.
And in fabulous exciting news, Michael finally got to feel Bugbear moving around last night at the 10pm dance. I think the memory of laying there with his hands on my abdomen and saying "Oh that was it" with no doubt at all, and me knowing exactly what he'd felt, might be the high moment of this pregnancy so far. It was nothing other than happy, exciting, and intimate, and I get a rush even just closing my eyes and thinking about it. It feels more like an us thing and less like a me thing now, and I cherish that.
And at yesterday's midwife appointment, s/he kicked visibly while flipping around to run away from the doppler. His/her nickname has gone from Ute Ninja to BeeGee, because s/he has daily dance parties at 3pm, 6-8pm, 10pm, 4am, 6am, and 7:30am, and a ninja would not be that predictable.
And in fabulous exciting news, Michael finally got to feel Bugbear moving around last night at the 10pm dance. I think the memory of laying there with his hands on my abdomen and saying "Oh that was it" with no doubt at all, and me knowing exactly what he'd felt, might be the high moment of this pregnancy so far. It was nothing other than happy, exciting, and intimate, and I get a rush even just closing my eyes and thinking about it. It feels more like an us thing and less like a me thing now, and I cherish that.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
05 August 2010
Dear BugBear,
Please, in addition to kicking and dancing around in your mom's ute while I'm mostly asleep, kick and dance around while I'm awake. I would like to enjoy this wonderful experience while conscious.
Thanks.
Love,
-Dad
Please, in addition to kicking and dancing around in your mom's ute while I'm mostly asleep, kick and dance around while I'm awake. I would like to enjoy this wonderful experience while conscious.
Thanks.
Love,
-Dad
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