minalisms


    Posts Tagged ‘Ben’

    Crap!

    Friday, March 5th, 2010

    I’ve been debating for days whether to write about this topic, so I’m just gonna be quick with it to make it as painless as possible.

    I am afraid about pooping during labor.

    This blog post reassures me how normal a phenomenon it is for pregnant women to experience this during birth, considering that “pushing” is the same as excretion. The problem is, with all said and done, I DO NOT FEEL ANY BETTER.

    It’s yet another reason to keep Ben at the my side from waist up in the delivery room. If the poor guy doesn’t pass out from seeing a human head peering out from my vagina, he will certainly pass out at the sight of shit.

    Riverdancing on the bladder

    Thursday, March 4th, 2010

    My son is an athlete. On second thought — knowing my longtime love of dancing and Ben’s penchant for randomly awesome bouts of river dance — my son is probably a dancer.

    Because that is all he’s been doing for the past two weeks: Dancing in my belly, above my bladder.

    If ever there was a time for Depends, the incontinence accessory, now would be it. Not because I leak from Baby’s sudden kicks and stomps, but because I’m just tired of feeling as though I must pee every half-minute.

    Friends tell me it’s only going to get worse — which, thank you, friends, but common sense could’ve helped me figure that one out on my own. By the way, Baby has doubled in size from three weeks ago.

    So when you meet him, ask him to do a little jig for you. From what I can tell, he’s quite good.

    Cramming

    Friday, February 19th, 2010

    Even though there is little, if any, evidence of baby preparation around my house, I’ve been working every day on preparing mentally for July 12 (aka Due Date) and thereafter.

    I make to-do lists. I read my pregnancy book. I pore over ratings on cribs, car seats and carriers. I think constantly about my diet and worry about nourishing the little man inside, wonder whether he’ll latch on to my boob when the time comes and if I’ll have the time and energy to make most of his baby food from scratch.

    My network of moms and dads have told me that one can never truly prepare for the arrival of a child. “You just learn as you go,” they say. And that makes sense, but, good God, that means I have to pay close attention. At all times. Even when I’m bored, or unmotivated, or sleep-deprived and crabby.

    Which brings me to the following conclusion: This kid — he’s going to be one charismatic dude, even more so than his father, who from Day 1 re-ignited my creativity, perseverance and optimism for a happy ending.

    Waste not, want not

    Monday, November 23rd, 2009

    I’m sensitive to wasteful habits. This is why I have a particular distaste for Vegas. I have a hard time coming to terms with the gazillion watts of flashing lights, the platefuls of uneaten buffet food and, of course, the money that more often than not disappears into slot machines or dealers’ hands.

    It’s just as agitating to spot waste on a smaller scale. My husband knows this. That’s why he’s careful to switch off lights when he leaves a room and knows not to wander too far away while waiting for running water to warm up. He knows that not respecting resources will ignite a fury within me that would scare even the Grim Reaper.

    The problem is I have to keep this fury in check at work, where there is waste aplenty.

    I’ve kept my mouth shut and my hands to myself in the ladies restroom, where women leisurely dry their hands while keeping the water running, just so they can use their wet paper towel to turn off the faucet.

    I’m also full of guilt and remorse when I let my mind imagine the fate of leftover food from the cafeteria, or the scores of trash bags filled with Styrofoam plates and unrecycled plastics.

    Seriously, folks! Who are we? Unapologetic, convenience-driven parasites?

    The thing is, you and I may be fortunate enough to afford water, electricity, food and a home far away from a landfill, but others  in our very own world don’t have such simple pleasures.

    Wise up, please.

    Husbandry

    Wednesday, November 11th, 2009

    To mark Veterans Day, my husband’s company gave its employees the day off.

    I still had to go to work, even though my company has promised to grant me and other workerbees a floating holiday to use by year’s end. We’ll see about that.

    Anyway, this situation made for a very jealous Minal this morning, as I dragged ass to clothe and groom myself while Ben stayed in bed all cozy and warm.

    He did get up to help me pack my lunch — a very husbandly nicety.

    He was so husbandly, in fact, that as I pulled out of the garage and onto our street, still grouchy, Ben was standing outside our front door, with a paper or magazine in one hand and a coffee mug (empty, because he doesn’t drink coffee) in another. He looked at me, grinned and raised the mug à la Ward Cleaver.

    His hokeyness made me laugh so loud through my open window I worried the entire cul-de-sac heard.

    “He’s totally the man for me,” I thought.

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