God forbid we offer paid maternity leave because then we could be on par with…I don’t know….the REST OF THE WORLD.
Also for those of you not in California–it should be a different color. It should be the middle blue color. It, compared to the rest of the country, is a great place to have a baby. Maternity leave is PAID here–considered a disability. I know you are thinking–California has some serious budget issues but its not paying maternity leave that is causing the problem. It may be more related to putting people in prison for life for stealing socks–just as an example. ANYWAY–enough politics! No Fighting!
So I am on maternity leave and have been for a couple weeks. It is hard. “Hard!” you snort laughing–“You DON’T DO ANYTHING!!!!”
Well I do do stuff [whine!]. Its just hard to do much (why it is a disability that prevents you from performing work–especially moving 200-400 lb patients all day). So here is the day in the life of my maternity leave.
0645-750: Wake up to glaring LA sunshine and the ridiculous birds outside my window. They are not pleasant in the early morning–its like there is a massive bird war going on in the palm trees outside my window. People poo-poo this until they stay with us and are like “WTF with the birds?!?”
0750-0830: Try to get out of bed. This is hard, it hurts and is usually a 5 step process of rolling my super dense ungainly body onto my side, pulling H onto the bed from his bed, giving him a morning scratch, then SE wakes up and starts kicking my bladder. I then have H motivate me by using the word ‘walk’ which gets him all excited and involves jumping on my face and enough pain that I sit up. Groan.
0835: stumble to the bathroom and pee.
0836-0840: Pause at the office, still nude in a completely whale/unsexy way and harass W with what I think is some super funny morning comment when all he wants is his morning quiet time to read nerd blogs before work.
0840-0850: try to dress in whatever still fits. This is hard. Putting on pants, even sweat pants, is the hardest thing in the world.
0850-0920: Walk the still jumping/dancing dog at my feet. What used to be a 10 minute walk around the block is now 30+ minutes much to H’s delight. Sometimes we walk the 1 mile round trip to the coffee shop which is more exciting for both of us (H gets to smell so much stuff! and he gets a piece of muffin) but takes FOREVER. I usually call my Mom for company during these walks.
0921: pee again
….until 1200: drink my coffee and eat breakfast and read all the blogs on the internet. Check Facebook a million times. Watch HGTV marathon…trying to stop! Usually end up staring at gmail thinking ‘someone email me!’ until I get so frustrated I do something else or make popcorn and bean H in the head with it. Super funny cause it bounces off (obviously doesn’t hurt him) his huge hair and then he chomps it in the most dramatic fashion ever. Pee three times.
1200–1600: do something adventurous or at least walk because sitting or laying hurts to much after awhile. We have not had as many adventures lately but our afternoon usually includes a long walk, beach trip, or some pool time (H hates pool time cause he has to stay inside but it is the one place I am weightless!). This time also includes a nap. If its hot this adventure has to happen earlier or later in the day–and usually takes the full 4 hours instead of the former 1 hour. Pee two times.
1600-1900: try not to watch TV, turn on Spotify and listen to new tunes, do some art, clean. Make dinner. Pee two times
1900–2100: W quality time and primetime TV watching. If I am lucky (I usually am) I get a back scratch/massage from W. These are not short. I am spoiled. Also,factor in 20 minutes of body maneuvering so W can reach my back. Pee 2-4 times
2100: Walk H.
2130…: pee, fall asleep watching criminal minds, nova, or HGTV.
I guess it does sound pretty awesome. But there are things you have to know about me 1. I hate being useless (even though I know I will go back to my job soon)–its very depressing, I go stir crazy and get lonely very easily–I wish I knew more people here in my neighborhood. 2. I have no will power–its hard for me to turn off the TV: I am trying really hard to push myself before SE comes, do some art, read, and explore things I can do with little movement. 3. I waited tables in crappy shoes for a long time–I already have a crappy lower back, knees and hips so the added weight is making things worse–I walk a lot. Walking in supportive shoes is my most comfortable thing to do aside from swimming. Everything else: laying down, sleeping, bending, and sitting hurts. 4. Any alteration to this schedule–ie doctors appointment, surprise jack hammering [literally happened today] of my apartment wall, car checkups, or pretty much any little thing leads to hormone surge and crying. Massive crying. I am super pleasant to be around right now 🙂
Living in LA is awesome. I love the oddness, the people, the sun, the beach, the pool, the food, the diversity; I even love the ridiculousness. Okay, sometimes driving sucks and I miss the lack of walkable, affordable neighborhoods (but if you look hard you can find them). The other thing I love, and I have said this before, is the massive amount of urban wildlife–more visible and present than any other city I’ve lived in.
As of last night–we welcomed 2 baby (newly kicked out of the nest) opossums to our complex grounds. I checked with a local wildlife rescue to see if these little guys needed help. It turns out if an opossum is 6 inches long they are ready to be on their own. I didn’t pull out a tape measure but I think these cute* little ones just meet the length requirement–they are clear for the ride of life. Here’s hoping they don’t become other urban wildlife or urban pet (i.e. cat) food.
*I know a lot of people think opossums are gross and not cute. I think they are cute and found out some interesting factoids via the internet while trying to figure out if these guys needed to be rescued: 1. they have more teeth (52) than any other mammal in North America. 2. They rarely carry disease or rabies because they maintain a lower body temperature than other mammals–inhospitable to bacteria and viruses.
Yesterday, Henry and I were depressed and in a funk. I DROVE him to the park for some exercise. Granted the park is a 4 mile walk round trip and my waddling-almost-8-month-pregnant-self takes about twice as long to walk it but I don’t do much else during my days off so driving there is pretty lame-o. So yes, a funk. A funk of too much TV, worrying about becoming a parent, worrying about maternity leave, worrying about family and finances–the whole funk shee-bang. So I decided that today Henry and I would have an adventure.
We would trek the hour long drive to the awesome Huntington Dog Beach. Not much of an adventure for some but I would get outside (out of my funk) and Henry would get his beach that he has not had in over a month. Henry LOVES the beach.
So we went. I waddled down the beach, Henry ran circles down the beach and got a sand beard, others commented: “Wow–your dog has blue eyes!” or “Did you see his eyes? How did your dog get those eyes? Are they real??”
After about double the time (per my waddling) it usually takes us to walk our beach lap, Henry and I were almost back to where we leave for the car when I (Henry was still running circles) saw a weird shape that was not a dog, coming out of the ocean. It was tiny and cute.
It was a baby sea lion.
It was the cutest, saddest thing ever. It was obviously tired and wanted to get out the water but chose the worst mile of beach ever–a dog beach. Luckily the big dogs were playing elsewhere and Henry was still running circles. So the little guy got a break and was able to come up on the shore, looking for his mom. OHMIGOD–so heartbreaking. sosososososo heartbreaking.
Ever the one to help an animal in distress (seizure squirrels, baby bald eagle, baby deer, sick baby crow, worms, spiders…), I didn’t know if I should leave it and get a lifeguard or wrap it in something or introduce it to Henry or what. The sea lion was pretty frisky so I didn’t think it would like wrapping in a sweater so after a guilty-but-how-could-I-resist-couple of snaps (below) I waddled to the lifeguard stand and told the gentleman there about the pup.
“Yeah, there have been about 30 in the last week. The wildlife center is maxed out. Food shortage…Moms go to deeper water and get separated from their pups. Is he moving?–oh, he is moving. Frisky. That’s good but he chose the wrong stretch of beach…should have gone a mile down. Well if he is not too sick he will get some rest and head back in the water. I’ll call it in and if he stops moving they’ll come rescue him.”
30 pups in the last week!!!! + my pregnancy hormones–massive crying!!! Shattered heart!!! AAAHHH!!! To0 much! Too Much!
Its good that at least this guy was frisky enough that maybe all he needed was a nap. The lifeguard may have just been humoring me though…
I emailed W because Sea lions are his favorite animal and he missed it. He said it could live in our complex’s pool. I agree. I should have brought it home. Henry could get along with a sea lion. He is deathly scared of adult ones but maybe if he were raised with a baby one…..I mean they both love the beach….
My dog addition is a very odd being. So odd that he just got his own tumblr: The Daily H
Also, my dear friend who moved across the pond to Bristol, England restarted her amazing blog here: The Planning Committee
I had to email her and ask if everything was as idyllic as it seems on her blog. The short answer is yes and now I MUST GO TO ENGLAND!!!! To bad Fing pregnancy is getting in the way.
Over the counter….cars. Don’t go car browsing when you plan to get one in a month because you will leave with the cutest little fiat ever. So cute and inexpensive and great gas mileage and did I say its cute??? I named it Elsabeth. I get to pick her up tomorrow and there after we will gallant about The Valley, to and fro from work. She is also a stick and when we test drove I had W in the back and he said it was roomy….and I said Enough for a BIG dog? For like when we go steal Rocky III (W’s Mom’s new brindle mastiff rescue)? and he sighed and said yes. SO HERE WE COME WE ARE GOING TO STEAL ROCKY III!!!! kidding….sort of.
I am excited!
DO you think she needs blingy eyelashes??? Hmmm…may cut down on my awesome gas mileage.
Also—wear a fucking helmet. I do but I EXTRA learned that in the ICU last week. No one here wears helmets cause they cramp style but WEAR A FUCKING HELMET.
to pillow fights. W and I got all pumped while watching Wednesday night TV last night. Such good TV!
What do 32 year olds do when pumped??? We act like 8 year olds. Which is fine except for 32 year olds have more expensive stuff.
What happened was this: W threw a pillow at Rocky’s head. Rocky really doesn’t mind because he has a hard head and this was a super soft pillow; he just thinks its another form of petting. Actually, I don’t even think he woke up for this at all. So, of course, I threw the pillow back at W. W launched one again at Rocky’s head and this time I blocked it and screamed ‘STOP ABUSING YOUR DOG!’ Rocky snored.
This pillow fight devolved into lots of pillows being thrown at Rocky’s head with super elaborate blocks and throw backs and W adding tricky counter throws and MAN it got complicated and exciting and it was PILLOW WAR!!
The other thing you have to understand is that this fight was from our L sectional with W on one side and me defending (still snoring) Rocky on the other. Pillows were flying OVER our coffee table that was full of various drinks including my home made berry milk (I didn’t want hot coacoa because the chocolate would keep me awake). The other thing you have to understand is that we keep our computers on the lower shelf of the coffee table. The final thing you have to understand is that I killed W’s computer last year–well I had nothing to do with its death but it died on my watch and NOTHING was recoverable and I felt/feel sooooooo bad about it.
The inevitable happened. I blocked W’s throw with a throw of my own and the pillows slammed into the berry milk and splashed it across the living room and all over W’s gorgeous, brand new, mac book pro. We both froze for a sec then I ran to grab towels and W lifted up his poor baby (the laptop not Rocky). We mopped everything up–twice, berry milk can be sticky and luckily the macbook was aok! Phew! Rocky was still snoring.
The lesson: don’t get into pillow fights when you are 32 years old–your shit is too expensive! OR if you do, make sure all expensive stuff is out of the room and you might as well move all the sentimental breakables too.
Rocky has brain cancer but its slow growing–just makes his hormones all messed up. Isn’t he cute and funny though!! He was trying so hard to fit in that tiny dog bed–thats why he looks all concerned.
That contest was fun! Seriously!For me!…because no one was able to come up with the right combination. I am a new/thriftvintage secret agent!
Looking at the phot0–it was incredibly sneaky so (especially the shoes and shirt) I am sorry for that 😦
THE correct answer is: new necklace (from W), new shirt (Urban Outfitters), new jeans (W’s awesome sister Nora let me in on the awesomeness of Target Jeggings last year), THRIFT shoes, Thrift bag.
There is a change in the rules! Just answer–you don’t have to be right, you just have to enter.
SO this weeks winner is: CLAIRE!! The first entry! I literally wrote down the names (how do other blogs pick at randome when they have thousands of entries!??) and put them in a hat! So C- I already have your info but expect an AWESOME postcard–seriously awesome andyou know my awesome means SHINY!
I am debating prizes for next week. Do you guys have larger or smaller hands than me?? I have peasant working hands so probably smaller than me…ANyway let me know because I could get together an awesome prize if you have small hands.
Yesterday W came home and did his little white man dance by the doorway (he does it every day because he still has his earbuds in from walking home) and then meandered to our inbetween counter (inbetween the kitchen and stairs/living room) to see if anything needs immediate straightening while I watched from my usual position on the couch and Rocky drooled on a throw pillow–also his usual position.
WHAT IS THIS?
I don’t know what your talking about?–I was totally engrossed in something super interesting on internet.
Oh, I found that. I am going to send it to my Mom.
F*$&#K! NO DEAD BUGS ON THE COUNTER! NEW RULE: dead bugs can only stay on the counter for 24 hours!
Why do you get to make all the rules!!??! This SUCKS! When do I get to make a rule? How about this rule: The be quiet rule! HA! Besides, I don’t see what the big deal is–its cool and my Mom will love it. Why are you crushing my dreams!?!
I had taken a walk and found a perfect, perfectly dead, Monarch butterfly. I think it was killed by a team of ants/pack of ants–whatever you call a group of ants. I think this because when I picked it up a bunch of ants came out of its butt.
So I brought it home for my Mom….like a 6 year old. But seriously, my Mom will love it! The things you can do with butterfly wings. I remember her making a pair of earrings for a friend of ours out of butterfly wings–so delicate. Anyway I had to make sure there weren’t anymore ants in it so I left it on the counter. I really don’t see what the big deal is….
Okay- I have to get back to laundry. I went to the thrift store yesterday and found an amazing onesie/jumpsuit. I need to wash it and pretend that I’ve had it for a super long time or W will start making thrift store onesie purchasing rules. Rules are dumb…also living with me is very, obviously, awesome!
PS: this is inspired by my now favorite blog: The Bloggess. She is an awesome second behind Amy Sedaris! So funny and I wish I was her!