pregnancy

Nesting…

4 Comments

Nesting…

How strange is the nesting instinct? I spent three years, hundreds of thousands of dollars, and all my remaining energy for the next decade on graduating from law school and passing the bar. I should be thrilled to work as much as possible, flex these legal muscles and experience the power of my new license.

But no… I am nesting, I feel that each hour spent on law is one less hour spent hand crocheting baby blankets or hand quilting soft books to chew on. All I want to do is stay home and move all the furniture in the house, clean the walls and floors, pack away all the clutter, and arrange hand made baby items into a cute little nursery of calm for my son.

I want to buy a rocking chair and sit in it while I painstakingly learn to knit. I find myself more entranced by Jo-Ann fabric’s annual post christmas sale than I do any legal texts or cases. I want to make tapestry to bring color into my house and homemade fleece blankets to wrap his warm little body in.

I want to learn what each setting on my fancy sewing machine does, and employ it somehow.

The nesting instinct kicked in two weeks ago, when I made curtains for the guest room, continued into last week when I placed plastic weatherproofing stuff over all the bedroom windows, and hand stitched a fleece curtain for Monkey’s room. It has now grown to the point that I have panels of fleece, flannel, and batting for a number of projects that call to me every day.

“Don’t go to work! Measure, cut, and sew a receiving blanket!”

It just goes to show you that all the education in the world can’t halt the power of the instinctual self. It is a force of nature, and far more powerful than anything we can create. It pushes aside the logical self, insinuates itself into the emotional self, and leaves you craving knitting needles when you should be reading over the parol evidence rule.

I wonder if the court would accept motions in cross stitch format.

Motherhood/body image, pregnancy

There was an old lady who swallowed a fly…

1 Comment

I sympathize with the old lady who swallowed a fly…

Pregnancy is such a huge change. It happens so fast and yet takes forever. I can only vaguely remember a time when I was able to run and life heavy objects, but I know it’s only been a few months. At times like this I wish we were more like the Greeks, who measured beauty by their bride’s weight in gold, and the largest most rotund women were the most sought after.

I certainly don’t fit anywhere within the definition of heroine chic, nor do I fit the definition of any chic! I feel, in this seventh month of pregnancy, as though I have swallowed my former self. I feel that I can just see her, if I squint and turn just right in front of a mirror.

I enjoy my belly, it is very round and satisfying. I can’t help but stroke it soothingly, as I will the baby when he is born. However magical and wonderous this experience is, it still lasts nine months. Nine months is a long to time to maintain a sense of wonder and awe. I fight hard against the belief that I have to be skinny to be happy, but even the healthiest of self-esteems has weak moments when one’s body is changing every day for nine months.

I have done this once before too, so I can’t even hold onto the lie that I will return quickly to my pre-pregnancy body. Ha! No one returns to their pre-pregnancy body without the assistance of a scalpel. Everything is subtly different. A little lower, a little looser, a little bulkier. So instead of holding to that illusive dream, I am left wondering what changes will stay this time. Will I ever feel comfortable in low rise jeans again? Will I ever see my toes or will my breasts remain huge forever?

And still, in the bath with the baby kicking, I say hello to my new little man and I am proud that my body can do this. I can grow another separate human being. He will, like his sister before him, emerge from my body and become his own person. My children will accomplish things that I have nothing to do with, even though there very existence was brought about by me.

Pretty amazing stuff. It blows my mind really. How complicated is the relationship we have with our children? I want them to be their own people, do their amazing things, yet there is a voice in my head that cries “come back” with each step towards independence. Is it because they grew within me, that I can’t just be joyful at thier successes? That there must always be this little touch of sorrow for the days of their babyhood?

My daughter has lost all her baby fat. You can clearly see the woman she will become even while helping her button her jeans. She is lithe and muscular and strong and lovely. Her face is delicate and her eyelashes dark. She can hula hoop, and play sports, and has experiences each day that have nothing to do with me. I am very proud of her, but oh I long for my little baby girl, with her chubby cheeks and belly, and her duck fuzz hair.

Life is too many emotions.

environment, soapbox, women's rights

PETA

5 Comments

How PETA engages in the objectification of women to advance it’s pro-animal goals…

My professor sent me this link yesterday, PETA’s State of the Union (Un)dress. It was interesting to watch, but more interesting to think about the goals of that organization and how they apparrently differ from the goals of many women. The clip is a woman giving a speech about PETA’s goals, while undressing in front of an American Flag while clips of clapping congressmen are spliced in.

There were several points Jay and I emailed over, the most disturbing being that he had sent this link to many men he knows and they were unable to tell him what the woman said while she was stripping, nor did any of them watch anything in the video after the stripping. Even my husband was hard pressed to remember anything beyond a few sentences. So why have a naked woman deliver your message if the only thing men will remember from the experience is the naked woman?

How does this help the plight of animals? There is unlikely to be an increase of PETA members who are interested in assisting in changing the treatment of animals now that they have seen a naked woman talk about it, if none of the target audience can remember what in the heck she was talking about while she removed her business suit.

Further, this message is another in a long line of advertisements that supports objectifying women. WHO CARES if it’s for a good cause?? Should we smile and nod and say, okay, you can use women’s bodies to sell sex if the profits of said sales are going to “Save the Children” or NARAL?

The very fact that the men who watched this video said they never paid attention to the actual message indicates how poorly physical objectification helps causes. The only thing PETA has managed to do with this message is put another naked female body on the internet.

It would be nice if they could find another way to get our attention.

Managing life with chronic illness requires savvy spoons