minalisms


    Posts Tagged ‘marriage’

    Elastic pants and babydoll blouses

    Friday, February 26th, 2010

    I had a liberating experience this past weekend —  I bought clothes that fit.

    I’m in the second half of my pregnancy and I was still putting off the purchase of maternity clothes until recently, telling myself that I could do without for a little longer and to continue with the rubber-band-through-the-button-loop technique for my pants.

    Quite simply, I was behaving like a moron.

    The second I pulled on the pants in the dressing room of a maternity store, feeling the stretchy waistband hug – not suffocate – my belly, I did my happy dance. Booty shakin’. Arms pumping. Head bobbing. All of this and there wasn’t even music involved.

    When that was over, I threw back the curtain of the dressing room and walked out to my waiting husband. He noticed the goofy smile on my face and even goofier back-and-forth march I did for him. And when no one was looking, I flashed him my belly – pronounced but content under a swath of black elastic.

    This is the best thing ever!” I exclaimed, maybe a bit too loud.

    So I bought two more pants, a pair of jeans and three blouses, all of which look ridiculously adorable on me. (Yeah, I said it.)

    I don’t care that it’d qualify as a fashion faux pas to the Nth degree, but I plan to rock my maternity pants for a very … very … long time.

    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.

    New year, new role

    Thursday, February 18th, 2010

    For those who haven’t heard the news yet: I’m pregnant. If all goes as planned, my baby boy will be born in mid-July, which puts me at right about the midpoint of my pregnancy.

    I’ve been nudged by several friends and relatives throughout the past few months to blog about this news. But one of the reasons I haven’t is that it’s not simple describing what I classify as indescribable. How can you define something that’s so many things, often different things, to so many people? Like love.

    Ben and I haven’t made any noticeable preparations for Baby yet. I’m still putting off all purchases of maternity clothes, and the soon-to-be nursery is still an office without order. Four-and-a-half months until labor pains and I already feel like a bad parent. I think I’m catching on.

    There are reminders throughout the day: I am going to be a mom. Ben is going to be a dad. We are going to be responsible for the life of a tiny human being.

    And that’s when I fall back to square one, where no words justify the emotion behind those statements.

    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.

    Dream state

    Wednesday, November 4th, 2009

    I had one of the more scarily bizarre dreams of my lifetime last night.

    I know, you don’t so much care to read about another’s dream. Because, if you’re anything like me, you’re curious about just how scary/bizarre it is but know better than to ask for a play-by-play about something that, inevitably, is wholly uninteresting and anticlimactic .

    But I dreamed last night that Ben and I had a baby; the most adorable little girl with dark hair and big brown eyes who looked more like an 8-month-old by the time we brought her home, which (surprise!), wasn’t our home at all.

    I was calling my baby by three different names — Brooke, Gus and Asha — and growing frustrated by those who called her by the wrong name. This detail, I believe, symbolizes my control issues.

    Anyway, I started nursing my baby for the first time, and somehow the act of breast-feeding was the easiest thing I could have done, which I’m sure is a statement my mom-friends who nursed their real-life kids would guffaw at.

    Once she was fed and burped, I placed Brooke-Gus-Asha into her bassinet and walked away. I don’t know how much time elapsed, but I thought I heard cooing sounds so I went to check on her. As I peered at her face, I discovered that she was very much not cooing but choking on milk she had spit up.

    And so I saved her.

    I quickly yet calmly picked up my dream-induced daughter and patted her back  to clear her throat. Her breathing steadied.

    I saved her. I saved her even though seeing her choke would’ve been the precise moment I’d shake myself awake from a nightmare — when all seems hopeless.

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