Snarks and Ladders

So, um, let’s see what has been happening as of late…

I am currently 21 weeks and 2 days pregnant (leaving me with a whole 18 weeks and 5 days to go, if my baby decides to be considerate like myself and my siblings were and arrive on the scheduled date.  Which, judging by it’s behaviour so far, is unlikely.  Selfish git…)

I know I am this pregnant (to the day!) because I have become one of those damn creepy baby app junkies that I used to quietly ridicule. 

I also seem to post a lot of baby related shit on Facebook. Which I kinda used to ridicule as well.  On the plus side, it’s not often cutsey, and my sister has admonished me more than once for talking about her future niece/nephew/whatever the hell it is going to be in a derogatory manner.  That’s mainly because she isn’t the one getting kicked constantly, or having to give up booze over a birthday, Christmas, New Year, Easter, four weddings (including my sister’s, where I get to be a whale sized Maid of Honour) and Anzac Day.  Yes, I have marked all forthcoming alcohol related occasions with a frowny face on my calendar.  Don’t judge me, I miss my booze, damn it.

I’m giving myself minor heart attacks on a regular basis about totally stupid shit.  What seemed like an easy decision (using cloth nappies rather than disposable) has become a fricking nightmare.  Why are there so many types?  How the hell do I wash these things in my uncooperative front loader?  Do I need more liners?  Do I stock up now, or stock up later?  Do I splurge on the cuter prints? (actually, that’s an easy one. Yes, yes I do.)

Then there is the fact that I keep spending money on baby crap, which means I am not going to be out of most of my debt before I have maternity leave, which means I am royally screwed.  Seriously.  I need to win the lottery already.

I’d put up some of my belly pics, but I’m lazy.  Instead, let me direct you to my Instagram feed, which is entirely composed of belly pics as of late, and will be for the forseeable future.  Eventually, I will collate them all so I can see just how big I have gotten over time.  Probably when I am more near the 35 week or so mark, and time is nearly up.  One can only hope.  The human gestation is stupidly long, I don’t care what anyone says.  We should cut 3 months off this deal and be done with it, even if that does result in more stretch marks. 

In exciting news, it’s Christmas tomorrow, I am on holidays for the next 5 weeks, and I am planning on sitting in my pool for most of that time.

Yay Christmas!

It’s funny… tiny, insignificant things happen all day, everyday, and every time I think to myself “I am going to go home and blog about this utterly hilarious escapade/event!”.  Then I get home, and forget all about it… and when I finally sit down, I have very little to say.

I was told by a rampaging, sulky teenager yesterday ‘You have too many teeth’ after I might have not taken his temper tantrum as seriously as he may have intended.  Oh, curse you, good dental hygiene! He also was going to beat the crap out of myself and another female teacher, a truly terrifying threat from a boy who is a good foot shorter than me, and less than half my weight.  It was at that moment that any crowd support he might have had was well and truly lost – teenagers might be a pack of little shits more often than not, but they do have a small handful of morals they live by, and boys hitting girls is something they don’t often like.

Shit is also hitting the fan in a big way at work at the moment, and it’s only going to get messier.  Of course, I can’t talk much about it (damn stupid rules and what not), but for once I think I am in a position to dodge most of the flying faecal matter.  Very few other people are though, which is going to be altogether messy and painful.

My replacement camera has finally arrived, since some scumbag broke into my house a while ago and stole my camera, ALL OF MY PIGGY BANKS, and my jewellery.  Fricking douchecanoe.  Now I need to learn how to use the damn thing again.  Fun times!

Obligatory baby update (feel free to skip, people who are probably much like I was myself, pre body invasion)

Almost 14 weeks along, still getting daily morning sickness (plus side: I finally caved and took a day off today, just because I could… even if I was actually sicker yesterday, but that’s another story!).  Made the first big purchase the other day – second hand Boori cot and tallboy for a wonderful $250 (saving me at least $750 off the brand new purchase price, because I’m stingy).  Should get an ultrasound sometime soon, provided I can ever get a doctors appointment that doesn’t get cancelled because she decides to have the day off instead!

I’m not good at keeping secrets.  I mean, I’m very good at keeping them from people I see in Real Life™, but I’m not very good at keeping them from the internet.  I am a bit of a blabbermouth, I’ll admit it!

So, trusting that no one who reads this will actually tell anyone I know out there in the physical world, I am going to spill the beans. (Of course, this also means no references to it on Facebook or anything!)

This womb is occupied.  No vacancy at the inn.

It’s only early days yet, so anything could happen (hence why I am not telling anyone apart from the interwebs… well, except my parents, and my sister).  6 weeks in isn’t far at all.  Just far enough for me to be feeling mildly uncomfortable and all that stuff.

For starters, I really didn’t know that I’d feel like someone was stretching my insides constantly.  I feel like I’m actually made up of rubber bands or something.

I also didn’t count on losing weight… quitting drinking, cutting back on chocolate and soft drink, and actually eating breakfast is good for you after all.  Even if it isn’t giant balls of fun.

I’m sure people will work it out pretty soon… I’m not drinking anymore (a huge change), I’m peeing constantly (making me rethink my previous stance on public lavatories).  I can only be voluntary designated driver so many times before people put 2 and 2 together.

Boy, does it feel good to get that out. 

Let’s hope you are all good at keeping secrets!!

If you couldn’t work it out from the title… I’m talking about periods.  Or, as I like to refer to it, “The wonderful gushing confirmation of a non-violated uterus.  Baby not on board!”

This ad has been on TV a lot lately, and it has been bugging the heck out of me. 

Kotex, the wonderful company that they are, decided to do some research into periods.  Apparently, 72% of us wear our daggy undies when we have our period, which seems to be the singular most important finding they made. 

Kotex seem to believe this is because we are scared of our pads leaking or some such thing.  Can’t be ruining your good underpants now!

Well, I don’t actually know about the rest of the menstruating community… but pad leakage is one of the furthest things from my mind when I choose my knickers in the morning.

I’m thinking about more important things.  Like the fact I have bloated to the size of a small car.  Or the fact I just don’t want lace anywhere near my nether regions.  Or the fact that my big, baggy undies are the most comfortable things in the universe.

So, make your pads as leak proof as you like.  That’s pretty awesome. But I am still going to be wearing my daggy undies, regardless.

Please inform me – is this just me?  Really? 

Hi guys.

I love you all.  Really I do.

But I need to give you up.  You’re like my harmful bad habit.  I might have a Mummy Blogger addiction.  Is there a 12 step program for this?

You see, and I don’t know whether this is intentional, and I don’t blame you at all– but I am tired of feeling like a failure for not having children.  I know that children form a huge part of your life when you have them, and that’s why you blog about them, and that’s why you babble on about motherhood and how wonderfulfrustratingrewarding it is. 

I feel like if you don’t have children, you get locked into this little box.  Pushed out of the Mummy circle, if you will.  After all, what could she possibly know: she hasn’t had to get up in the morning to screaming children.  She hasn’t had to try and juggle the budget for her family.  She hasn’t had to kiss bruised knees, read failed report cards and be angry and consoling all at once, had the sadness of sick children, the frustration of naughty ones, and the wonder of the little miracles children perform every day.

And I don’t ever plan on having any of this either.

I feel like a second rate woman, because I have the temerity to choose having other things in my life over having a family.

I hate that I feel guilty over this choice.  It’s bad enough that people who just don’t understand call me selfish, as if it’s my job to procreate, and I’m letting everyone down by choosing not to do so.  It’s even worse that people cast accusing glares at you when you say you want to focus on a career, and travel, before you even contemplate a family.  Apparently wanting a career means that I am lazy, because there ARE women who manage to do both.  Apparently wanting to travel is superficial and selfish, because children are more important.  So no matter what, I’m an abject failure as a woman.

If I was a man, this wouldn’t matter in the slightest.  That really pisses me off.  Men can choose a career over family.  In fact, they are often applauded for doing so.  Men can expect their wife to do most of the childraising so that they can work.  Most people don’t question this.

When a woman wants something else from her life apart from motherhood and nurturing?  There is something fundamentally wrong with her.

I’m 24.  I’m single.  I’ve been working in my current job for a year and a half.  To me, that sounds like the absolute wrong time to want kids.  Unfortunately, and again, it really isn’t your fault that I feel insecure over this, but there are so many young Mummy bloggers.  So many that saying ‘I’m too young’ just makes me feel like I’m offering an excuse.  Which I don’t feel it is, but I feel that everyone else does.

So, I’m not reading anymore.  Sure, that might make me an awful bitch, for blaming my insecurities on you.  But damn it, a uterus is not an obligation to pop out a child.  I’m tired of feeling like it should be, and I am tired of others telling me it is, or acting like it is, and hearing that my life is utterly wasted until I do so.

Step One: Try and quit reading Mummy Bloggers.

Unfortunately, I think ‘Step Two: Make my Mother stop guilt tripping me over not wanting kids’ might be a little harder to achieve.

Profanity warning: I use language in that post that I personally wouldn’t use, and which you may find highly offensive.

There has been quite a bit of reportage on a scandal that recently occurred in Rugby League in Australia.  For those who aren’t Australian, or just plain don’t follow football, the gist of the issue is that a ‘respected’ ex-football player and member of the NSW coaching side allegedly made several racial slurs about other players, notably referring to an Aboriginal player as a ‘black cunt’.  This caused another member of the squad to leave training and state that he isn’t playing for the NSW team anymore. Drama ensued.

The issue generally is being looked at quite superficially.  ‘Oh no, he said something racist!’ and ‘Suck it up and deal with it’ seem to be the two dominant reactions in both the media and the public.  Funnily enough, people have much more of an issue with the ‘black’ part of the statement than the ‘cunt’ part.

It has always bothered me that the most disgusting and vile insults in the English language revolve almost exclusively around female sexuality.

Least Offensive/Often Used in Humour: wanker, dick, dickhead, jerk, cock, bitch

Moderately Offensive/Used to Show Mild Displeasure: fuck, gay, faggot, various other remarks used to imply homosexuality.

Most Offensive/Strongest Language: cunt, motherfucker, slut, whore

I don’t often go off on what my father would term a ‘feminist rant’.  However, it is getting frustrating seeing people focus on the racist part of this comment and not on the inherent sexist attitude that it shows.

Are we afraid of women?  Or just afraid of female sexuality?  Heaven forbid women contemplate sex.  I guess the easiest way to shove us back in our place is to associate female sexuality with filth and degradation.  Growing up, my already repressed and unfortunate attitudes towards female sexuality were reinforced by the language of insults and offense. Women weren’t allowed to enjoy sex or anything sexual.  If they did, then those dirty words, those words that people only used when they were really drunk or really angry, would apply to them.  A sexualised woman becomes those words, and then no one wants her.

Of course, the media doesn’t much care or think about the fact that girls and women out there are reading about this scandal, and having this message reinforced.  Nobody is saying that his attitude is offensive towards women.  Should we just be accepting the attitude that the statement ‘black cunt’ is only offensive because it calls an Aboriginal person something so ‘vile’?  Or should we be challenging that, and teaching women that female sexuality isn’t something to be ashamed of, something to be thrown about as an insult?