I am cranky today.
Mulberry is in California for the next ten days. Shenandoah is not feeling well and is staying home for a second day. I have my second acupuncture session before work. And we need a new refrigerator.
I've been reading blogs all morning. Found a hilarious one called Vet Mafia Bloggers and it definitely gave me a laugh. A gangsta laugh if you will -- shout out to them for it. And then I felt sad as I wished for a moment that we lived in a place where we didn't just give lip service to mom and apple pie but where people could actually take whatever time we need from whatever else we are doing to have babies/adopt babies, care for them, help them grow into valued adults, and really take care. I have mentioned to mulberry that we could always try to live in Denmark. It is where the most content/happy people in the world live, according to a recent survey. The high taxes they pay support the intellectual development of individuals and their familial/social relationships. Childcare, elder care, higher ed, vocational ed, time off to care for a sick loved one--all subsidized. But I know it's not a panacea. We still have to work for change here. Neither of us speaks Danish. And I would probably miss the complex-harried-personal-public-confidential-souped up-attitudinal-peaceful New York Beautiful that I so love and loathe sometimes.
Personal and confidential are words I relate to. They were the sticker on the package that came yesterday filled with new pharmaceuticals. Shenandoah helped me unpack and take photos. The fridge to our new place is too small to keep all our food much less our new legal drugs which contain the powerful ovulatory inducing chemistry toward life which withers without a cold pack. So there I was, crankily making room on precious shelf space while worrying can I really do this? Find the space, the right balance in myself? Find the calm and the fortitude to put my body (and mulberry's) through what it may take to increase our family? I need space for food.
Cranky.
And then there's my chi and the acupuncture. The acupuncturist I met for the first time on Monday seemed nice enough, but I couldn't relax and let it flow, as it were, since I was so uptight with the seemingly inexperienced masseuse poking my back while I lay there with needles in my hands. Mulberry said, "baby it's just like sex. You have to speak up and say what you want." She's right but, unlike my first consensual sexual experience, here I just wanted out. I didn't ask the practitioner enough questions either. It took all the energy I had driving through the city at rush hour, trying to find a parking space, trying to not be late and then explaining to a new someone the science and stresses of what may be ailing me and keeps preventing me from carrying babies to term. I want to cry.
Last night Shenandoah dreamed Madonna signed our shower curtain. We don't have a shower curtain -- we have a pre-war style separate shower and tub -- but we could have one and if Madonna signed it we know it would be valuable. Maybe Shenandoah is channelling an important message here. We don't need Madonna (an external) to affirm what we don't have -- we need to have what we have and valuable surprises may ensue.
Maybe.
But surprises can go many ways.
Cranky.
Mulberry is in California for the next ten days. Shenandoah is not feeling well and is staying home for a second day. I have my second acupuncture session before work. And we need a new refrigerator.
I've been reading blogs all morning. Found a hilarious one called Vet Mafia Bloggers and it definitely gave me a laugh. A gangsta laugh if you will -- shout out to them for it. And then I felt sad as I wished for a moment that we lived in a place where we didn't just give lip service to mom and apple pie but where people could actually take whatever time we need from whatever else we are doing to have babies/adopt babies, care for them, help them grow into valued adults, and really take care. I have mentioned to mulberry that we could always try to live in Denmark. It is where the most content/happy people in the world live, according to a recent survey. The high taxes they pay support the intellectual development of individuals and their familial/social relationships. Childcare, elder care, higher ed, vocational ed, time off to care for a sick loved one--all subsidized. But I know it's not a panacea. We still have to work for change here. Neither of us speaks Danish. And I would probably miss the complex-harried-personal-public-confidential-souped up-attitudinal-peaceful New York Beautiful that I so love and loathe sometimes.
Personal and confidential are words I relate to. They were the sticker on the package that came yesterday filled with new pharmaceuticals. Shenandoah helped me unpack and take photos. The fridge to our new place is too small to keep all our food much less our new legal drugs which contain the powerful ovulatory inducing chemistry toward life which withers without a cold pack. So there I was, crankily making room on precious shelf space while worrying can I really do this? Find the space, the right balance in myself? Find the calm and the fortitude to put my body (and mulberry's) through what it may take to increase our family? I need space for food.
Cranky.
And then there's my chi and the acupuncture. The acupuncturist I met for the first time on Monday seemed nice enough, but I couldn't relax and let it flow, as it were, since I was so uptight with the seemingly inexperienced masseuse poking my back while I lay there with needles in my hands. Mulberry said, "baby it's just like sex. You have to speak up and say what you want." She's right but, unlike my first consensual sexual experience, here I just wanted out. I didn't ask the practitioner enough questions either. It took all the energy I had driving through the city at rush hour, trying to find a parking space, trying to not be late and then explaining to a new someone the science and stresses of what may be ailing me and keeps preventing me from carrying babies to term. I want to cry.
Last night Shenandoah dreamed Madonna signed our shower curtain. We don't have a shower curtain -- we have a pre-war style separate shower and tub -- but we could have one and if Madonna signed it we know it would be valuable. Maybe Shenandoah is channelling an important message here. We don't need Madonna (an external) to affirm what we don't have -- we need to have what we have and valuable surprises may ensue.
Maybe.
But surprises can go many ways.
Cranky.
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