The Bebeh (I hope)

According to my Period Tracker app, I'm 8 days late.

The hubby and I finally decided it would be a good time to bring a baby into the world. We're in a good place. We can provide a good, loving home. So I stopped birth control (the patch) at the end of February. I figured well, I'm Mexican and he's Guatemalan, we're both Catholic, we're going to conceive right away, ha ha. After all, my cousins did. My mom did, too. But a couple of months went by.

I'll be honest. I've never been much of a calendar person. Or a math person. My first attempts at fertility calendars, cycles and ovulation days left me feeling like an idiot. 14 days from when? What? What am I, a Mayan priest? Why don't I just track lunar tides while I'm at it? My brain is easily bored by such things. Then my sister told me about a lovely app called Period Tracker. It does all the work for you with handy little graphics. So I told the hubby, okay if we're really going to try for a baby, let's go for it. If you're in the mood just let me know, day or night and I'll fit you in (between reading Neil Gaiman and perusing teh cute on the internets). Well, let me just say, do not tell a man you're welcome to dock in my bay anytime, because believe you me, they will take you up on it. At all hours. Especially if they're between raids on World of Warcraft. They will just swing on by.

But I digress.

So I got off of the patch around February 25^th and today is October 13, 2010 and I am 8 days late. So far I've taken two pregnancy tests and they both came back positive. Positive! I feel like Dr. Frankenstein when the monster comes alive! Except instead of a monster I have a little bebeh growing inside me.

I made an appointment with my regular doctor for a pregnancy test tomorrow. I know she's just going to give me a urine test, but I need to make sure. I'm a nervous wreck, wondering if I had two false positives and my period is really still on its way. And what about what they say, that most miscarriages occur in the first trimester. I just turned 36. That automatically puts me at risk, I think. What if something is wrong? Are the few symptoms I've been feeling normal? Or something else?

Aaaargh!

Okay, positive thoughts. Peaceful thoughts. I'm heading over to Cute Overload now. That always helps me feel better. Right after I grab some water. I feel like I just crossed a desert, I'm so thirsty.

Happy thoughts of chubby feet and powdery diapers. Aaaahhhhh…..

Slow Burn

My husband used to listen to Tom Lycos. He probably still does.

Before we got married, I used to live in the Bay Area and he lived in L.A. I used to fly down every 6 weeks or so to see him and sometimes he'd have Tom Lycos on the radio. He made it a point to stop on that station, turn up the volume and explain to me who this man was and what he was about.

Now I'm sure like most radio personalities this guy talks about a variety of topics. But my fiancé at the time made it a point to highlight the following: Tom says men should be assholes to women. Treat them like shit and they'll sleep with you. Women are only out for your money anyway so treat them like shit.

He didn't mention any other topics that might be discussed on this radio show. Time after time, he made it a point to bring up this particular topic. And if that happened to be the discussion going on when we got in the car, he would turn it up.

And he wondered why I would get upset.

It's not that I hated Tom Lycos. Frankly, I don't listen to any talk radio. It just doesn't hold my attention, regardless of the topic (unless it's something weird or spooky, then it might just hold my attention until the commercial break when I get trigger happy with the stations again). The reason I was so upset is because I thought my husband was trying to tell me something.

Why do you think it's okay to treat women like shit?

I'm not saying it's okay-

Then what are you saying?

We would have these circular arguments until we just finally got tired of arguing. I couldn't understand why he was making me listen to that and why he admired that guy so much, and he didn't understand why I took it so personally. After all, he wasn't treating me like shit so why should I care how other men act?

Because I'm a woman goddammit!

If I see someone talking crap about Mexicans, yes, I'm going to be offended. If someone talks crap about Americans, yes, I'm going to get upset. I don't have to be the target to feel offended by something.

So for a very long time, that radio personality went unmentioned. Years passed. We got married. We've been happily married for almost 6 years now.

Then something happened. An old buddy of his cheated on his girlfriend. The clincher? She is a very good friend of ours too. My husband and I were both upset, we both comforted her. He talked to his buddy and pretty much told him to get his act together and make up his mind who he wanted to be with.

But my husband said something that really bothered me. He said if it had been any other girl, or if he hadn't been friends with her he wouldn't have cared. He would have even high-fived his friend (his words, not mine).

That pissed me off. Why is it okay to hurt someone just because you don't know them? Isn't that just a wee bit hypocritical? I mean after all, his dad did the same thing to his mom (and she threw a knife at the back of his head but that's a story for another day). My husband still harbors a little bit of resentment toward his father for what he did to his mom.

Then how could he say something like that?

Am I crazy to feel angry at him? I can't help it, but I do feel disgust toward him at times. I wish I could be more like a guy in these situations. Something pisses them off, they're upset for a while, then they plop in front of the TV, crack open a beer, burp and move on. Maybe that's what I need to do. Acknowledge that I'm bothered by this, accept it, get on cuteoverload.com, pour some red wine and forget about it.

Things I am thankful for: electricty!

Thanksgiving came and went and I had a lot to be grateful for.

I am thankful that life for me, relatively speaking, is fairly easy compared to my grandmother's lives. I was born and raised in Northern California; they were born in a little town in the highlands of Jalisco, Mexico. Okay, maybe little town is a bit generous. My family is from a tiny village, no more than a couple of streets wide when my mom was growing up.

While not the very first in my family (an uncle and two cousins beat me to it), I did go to college. When my grandmothers were growing up, they had an elementary school. That was it.

My mom remembers when they first got electricity in town the 1960's, when she was a little girl. My grandmothers had to go down to the river to wash clothes and gave birth to their children at home with only the local lady who had some experience delivering babies.

This may sound like an old man's rant (I had to walk five miles in the snow dang nabbit!) but it's not. These are realities my recent ancestors lived with. I'm not going to go into lack of birth control, lack of opportunities, and the odd revolution here and there that shaped my grandmothers lives.

I am just going to say I am so grateful that my grandparents immigrated! I am so glad my dad grew up in this country, and that when he went back to visit the old country one year during the holidays, met my mom and eventually brought her butt over here too.

Please don't misunderstand what I am about to say. I am immensely proud of my heritage and my culture. On that note, I am eternally grateful that I was born in these times, in this country! My parent's town has grown, and yes they have electricity now and running water, but let's face it: if I had been born and raised there, even now, I'd have been married in my late teens, most likely to a third or fourth cousin with a drinking problem and I'd probably be swarming with kids.

Because that's the reality for many of my female relatives, even now.

Right now, I am relaxing in my living room, in my comfy sweats. My husband, who is also Latino, is sitting next to me on the couch. He's flipping through the channels and he treats me like his best friend. We don't have any kids yet, we're thinking about it. We're just hanging out, sharing a bottle of Lost Abbey Serpent Stout; maybe gonna have some leftover pumpkin pie a little later. I have nothing to complain about.

I love my life!

The First Post

I wonder how many new blogs get started every day. I write every day, so I figured I may as well start writing a blog too. This blog is going to be about random topics and trains of thought, weird things I see and yes, the occasional rant.

A little about me; I am an accountant but that wasn't always the case. I was a history major at UC Santa Cruz (go Slugs!), I had a couple of random community organizer jobs after graduation, and went on to become a librarian. I loved that job; I was the proverbial kid in a candy store. Then I got married, moved across the state to move in with my new husband, temped around for a while, and ended up as an accountant.

I have been married five years as of October 2 to my Bubb. I can't believe how fast the time has gone by. Then again I can't believe I nearly always forget my anniversary, either. And mind you, I'm the wife in this situation. Oh well.

I also always forget to turn off the oven. This worries Bubb.

Okay, my husband's name isn't actually Bubb or Bubba. I just call him that. One day I'll tell you why.

And on that note, this accountant is signing off. It's getting late, and I have to go in early tomorrow. Month end approaches!