Two Months

Warren is officially two months old. And he's monstrous. Per the pediatrician, Warren is in the 99th grown percentile for weight, the 65th for head circumference, and the 35th for height. If he keep progressing like this, I think it's fair to say, we have a middle linebacker on our hands. And would anything make this mama any prouder?

Also because he is two months old, the doctor shoved a bunch of needles into my poor sweet boys meaty thighs. Of course Warren handled it better than I did. And I think it speaks volumes for this kid's temperament that he kept trying to smile even though he felt like shit and had a little post-immunization fever.

I had to drag the kid with me into my office last week, as the HR snitch fucked up all my paperwork. Again, I wasn't allowed past the lobby (yeah, are they afraid I might actually...work or something?) so I sat in the marbled entryway and filled out the paperwork. While I checked off boxes and initialed things, HR Snitch asked to hold Warren. As soon as she picked him up, Warren started screaming. And the bitch had the gall to make scowling faces at me and chastised me with, "You know the receptionist is on the phone!" Yeah, he's a baby, he's crying. What would you like me to do? Bitch. I almost mentioned that I could always do this in my own office if his crying was causing problems, but really? It wasn't worth the effort when it was so much more amusing to watch her squirm.

It did totally warm my heart that Warren only screamed when HR Snitch was holding him. That's mama's little angel!

I'm still basking in the warm glow of love from all the fantastic people around here. I'm unbelievably lucky to know the neatest humans in the whole world. I'm just loving y'all.

HOLY CRAP!

I'm so completely stunned by the love the internet has brought my way. Faith, I must write this in a public forum: You are fucking amazing. I don't have the words to say how much your kindness means to me. I feel like such a tool whining about my bullshit, especially when I'm surrounded by such wonderful people, whether people in real life like Jen, or people I know only online like Faith. I'm utterly dumbfounded by how incredible the people I know are. So, seriously, thank you.

Mood improving

I think now that I've actually had to face my own personal "worst case scenario" for birth, and realized that it will be ok, I'm actually feeling better. Frankly, if I have to wait until next week, my big sister the Super Nurse will be here and she's volunteered to be my personal nurse, so that feels good. (Always nice having an advocate who actually knows how medical stuff works, as I tend to do what the people in the white coats tell me, even if it's not what I want.)

Also, in the "Doesn't Suck" category of things, I found out that my State Paid Maternity benefits will be a nice chunk higher than I was expecting. So, while still less money than if I were working, more money than I had been planning on. So, that was nice. And to top it off, when I called the Big Bad Governmental Agency that handles this stuff, at 4:30 pm, no less, the guy who helped me WAS NICE! It was amazing! So, that left me in a good mood. At least gave me enough motivation to actually cook something for dinner, instead of waiting until Xtian got home and whining that I don't feel like eating ANYTHING! And making him put up with my annoying ass.

And since I've been on such a negative kick, I feel I should balance my karma out a little. I don't know anybody else's life partners very well, but I feel pretty safe in saying that Xtian wins the contest. He has put up with me so sweetly during the last few weeks, and has been trying so hard to never say the wrong thing, I just feel so fortunate that he'll put up with the amount of shit he does. And the fact that he's hot as all get out doesn't hurt.

That's SO Bay Area.

Pride was just glorious. A few of my favorite highlights:
The dude wearing a top hat and roller skates. And nothing else. No, he was not part of the parade, just a random spectator. He was in good nude company. (And I’m asking this question of everyone: when someone shows up nude to an event like this, assuming they don’t live in the exact neighborhood: do these people travel in the nude or do they wear clothes and find somewhere to stash them once they arrive? Because, I’ve yet to see someone nude on BART or Muni, but, where are they stashing the clothes? Seriously, these are the thoughts that keep me up at night.)

In the gay families group, two men with their son in a stroller, carrying a sign reading, “We’ll love our son, even if he’s straight.” I was kind of in love with this family.

The LGBT Police officers and sheriffs and their partners. Really, in what other city do cops get to be out as openly as here?

One of the groups marching was celebrating their long term partners, while protesting their non-recognized legal status. Most were holding signs with, “Bill and Steve, 9 years” and “Tammy and Corinne together for 24 years.” But the one that got me the most was an older gentleman, riding the float with a sign reading, “Bill and Marvin: 51 years. Widower denied.” That was when I cried. Well, one of the times I cried.


As Xtian and I came out of the BART station at Civic Center, a female Sheriff’s Deputy was patrolling the area. Two men holding hands stopped her, and thanked her for being there on Pride. She turned to them and said, “Thank you for letting me part of this.” And I cried some more.

I forgot my camera, but whatever. We’ve all seen the crazy pictures of Queens and Kings, the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence, the people wearing nothing but balloons, the Dykes on Bikes etc. The stuff that killed me was the quiet moments that aren’t in the photo galleries. The sweet young men in front of us who were at Pride for the first time. The families getting some acceptance and validation by the cheering crowds.

I just love Pride, and it makes me cry every year. I think it’s impossible to be there and think these people are wrong in their love and their lives. It’s just overwhelming in happiness, joy and relief at being completely in the open for one day. It reminded me why I wanted to live and raise children in the Bay Area.

Of course there were the Gay-Bashers quietly holding their signs, “Jesus Loves You! But he hates your lifestyle” type shit. And frankly, they enraged me so much, Xtian pulled me out of the area. You know, I don’t show up to their KKK rallies telling them they’re assholes.
But I felt they were answered back beautifully by the Gay Christian Church group carrying signs saying, “Jesus DOES Love Me, Just The Way I Am.” And while I’m not a Christian or a religious person, it was beautiful watching people reclaiming religion from hate-spewing jerkoffs.

That’s all I’ve got today. I’m tired. And ready to go home.

Sometimes, I'm smart. Other times, not so much.

Yeah, a couple days late and at least 42 cents short: I’d like to give a shout out to MLK, without whom that really scary street in the ghetto would only be called “12th Street.”

Oh yeah, and also, the guy who mobilized a nation, fought for human dignity, and worked toward the rights I currently enjoy. Specifically the right to be married to someone whose skin is a different color from mine. So that we may make dozens of tiny little brown babies.

I know I joke about how fucking racist a lot of people are, and how Xtian and I are often stared at, glared at, or otherwise singled out because we’re different colors. But, seriously, at least we can’t be arrested for the express reason “You’re with a black man.” And that is saying something pretty frickin’ significant.

Not Whining, surprisingly...

Since most of what I’ve been writing/talking about for the last few weeks consists of whining, I thought I’d take this time to actually (belatedly) show some gratitude.

I’m unspeakably grateful for my husband. Xtian is a man strong enough to deal with my insanity, kind enough not to hold my bullshit against me, loyal enough to take insults against me personally, patient enough to keep dealing with the same problems day in and day out. Undoubtedly the best person I’ve ever met.
I am grateful for my amazing friends. There aren’t that many anymore, but the few who’ve lasted are truly a blessing. They see me through everything, whether they understand it or not, whether they understand me or not. I love them like family, only more so, as they have the option of leaving.
I am thankful for a family full of broken, wonderful people. As much as we grate on each other, we also love each other fiercely. Love each other, no in spite of our flaws, but because of our flaws. More than anything, we genuinely enjoy spending time together more than any family I know.
I am grateful for my health. As much as I whine about injuries etc, I have a body strong enough to stand up to the abuse I dish out, and heal itself. I have access to medical care when I need it, but mostly I don’t need it.
I am also grateful to live in one of the richest countries in the world. Where I am able to afford healthy food and luxuries other people only dream about. I have a home that I love, and the ability to fill it with things I like.
I am thankful to have three sweet, silly, cuddly cats. Sharing life, time and space with animals is a neat thing, and they add so much to my life.
I am grateful to have a job that I enjoy and pays me enough to live comfortably and buy myself everything I need.
I am grateful for living in the Bay Area, with so much beauty, culture and so many people who feel the same way I do about things. I am grateful to live in an area where I don’t have to live in fear of daily, systematic violence. I am thankful that my husband and I don’t have to be afraid to be seen in public together. That the racism we do endure is nothing compared to how bad it could be. I am grateful that my future children will only have it better. That they will live in an area where they can be proud of their heritage, without fear.
There are hundreds of other things I could think of, but these are the biggies on my mind right about now.