C'est la vie

Movin' on

Guess what? In one of my signature --and not always sane, or correct-- spur-of-the-moment decisions, I have decided to move my blog to Wordpress. So yesterday, I exported all my posts and comments, and got started on moving my other blog, which is currently hosted on iblog.com (which sucks, by the way). This one is going to be hard, because I have to do it  from scratch; and of course I have never done that, so I guess I'm screwed.

So a few days from now, when I've finished with the appearance of my blog, I will officially move to http://lillyanka.wordpress.com. Bookmark it! Pretty please? With sugar on top?

EDIT:

My new url is www.lillyanka.com. It's just not ready yet because apparently I'm a huge moron and I can't set up a template correctly. Help!

Guess who's cranky

Raging hormones aside, I'm just not very happy today. And I know exactly what it is: my mother-in-law is coming to visit.

Now, Costa Rica is tiny. Tiiiiiiiiiny. Smaller than most states in the US. We're only 4 million Costa Ricans. So, as you can see, I just can't think of a reason for her to sleep over at my place. MY. PLACE. Where I'm trying to spend time alone with my husband before we have a baby in 3 months. Where we walk around naked and have sex at any time we goddamn want now that my belly isn't humongous yet. Now that we can still sleep the whole night.

We're still newlyweds, my husband and I. We've been married for 4 months. So is it so abnormal for me to want to be alone with him at home, dammit!?

I mean, the trip from my MIL's house to our house takes 1.5 hours by bus, and 20 minutes by cab. So why in all hell does she want to sleep over if she can come by at around lunchtime and leave early in the evening, and still drive me nuts?

Because, of course, she's a walking cliché. She's passive-agressive, and a huge hipocrit. Michael only exists when she needs money, or when it's a) her birthday, b) mother's day, or c) Christmas. She will actually call him and say "This is what you're giving me for (insert special occasion)" and then proceed to ask for stuff or money, hang up the phone, forget about him until it's time to get the present, and then forget about him again until the next special occasion.

And I don't know if that's just me, but I don't think that's the ideal relationship to have with mom. Especially if you live so damn close. I mean, she doesn't even call him on his birthday. I, for one, don't spend one day without calling my mom or something. I know, that might seem a little (ha!) weird too, but we live on the same block and I've been mommy's and daddy's little girl my whole life. I didn't move out of my parents' house until I got married, and even after that my parents complain if I don't come over every day so they can see their daughter and granddaughter.

Of course I don't expect everyone to be that close to their parents. But this thing, this MIL coming to visit just stinks of "I'm coming to get my mother's day present and, while I'm at it, see how she's keeping your house". Because of course, she doesn't work OR study, so she's got all day to clean, iron, cook, do laundry, et cetera. And I don't. But she doesn't give a crap. So as soon as she sets foot at my house she starts doing chores: "This needs to be cleaned", "Looks like you need me to do some laundry", "I better iron some of Michael's clothes". And of course Michael just makes those My-mommy's-so-amazing eyes I cannot stand. And I look like an inefficient slob.

Okay. I guess I just needed to vent. I'll tell you how it goes after she leaves. Which I hope happens soon.

And she hasn't even come yet.

Minti Blog

So Minti.com just did the most beautiful thing ever. I can cross-post!!! (Is that even a word? Does it at least make sense to anyone?) So when I post here, it can also be read at my minti blog, http://lillyanka.minti.com/blog/. So the people over at Minti can read me, and I don't have to come up with more posts, because God knows I have my hands full with this one right here, and I don't even update that much.

So remember, hop on over to Minti and check out all the great advice for parents, from parents.

Updating! Not that anyone cares, or anything.

First of all, Finals. Hate. Woe. Aaaaargghhhh! I need a break from school.

I'm in the last week of this period, so I haven't been able to update, mainly because I've been working less hours so I can study and, guess what? Still no internet at home.

I tell you, I need to get internet at home before I go on maternity leave, or those are going to be the longest 4 months of my life. 4 months. A first-time mom. No internet. A recipe for disaster.

Maybe I shouldn't complain, because here in Costa Rica pregnant women get 4 monts FULLY PAID maternity leave --1 month before giving birth and 3 months after. So that's pretty good, right? The only problem is I KNOW I'm not going to want to go back to work after Camila's here. I'll have to do it, but I sure as hell am not going to like it.

So I wonder how other women have coped with this whole going back to work thing. Because, you see, I'm not surrounded by many moms who work. I have 3 friends --all my age +/- 1 year-- who have children ages 2 months to 3 years old, and none of them work. My mom didn't work when we were little, except for a couple of reeeeally short attempts. So I haven't actually been around a woman who had to go through the process of leaving her child(ren) with someone else to go back to work.

Is there anyone out there who can share some thoughts with me on the subject? I mean, I've still got 4 months of my pregnancy plus the whole maternity leave to go, but the drama queen in me just can't help but get a head start on the thoughts of woe and disaster and DOOM and Idon'twanttoleavemybabysomeonepleasehelpmeohmygod.

See why I'm going to need and internet connection?

'Cause no matter what people say, being pregnant just ain't pretty

So Michael and I are suposed to leave on saturday for a weekend trip with a couple of friends who have two kids: a three-year-old girl, and an almost-two-month-old boy.

We have no Idea where we're going yet (yup. We're not so big on the whole planning thing), but I'm pretty sure there will be a pool involved. And let me tell you, it's not gonna be pretty.

I'm already having trouble tying my shoes and shaving my legs, so the shaving of the punani is just out of the question. It's a disaster zone down there, people. I mean, I don't even make horny eyes at Michael anymore because I just love him too much to make him look at that area.

So I start to think that maybe, just maybe, it would be a good idea to go get myself waxed. Now, I've never waxed because I have a very low tolerance to pain (and now I'm having a baby. That's gonna go well, right?), but now I guess I'll have to suck it up and act like a man. Because it is necessary.

And so on tuesday, I go to a salon near work which is supposed to be very good and, guess what? It's closed for remodling. So I ask a friend and she tells me the lady she goes to is out of the country. Just my luck.

So I'm doing it today. And it's gonna hurt, I know. But dammit, I just don't know how much longer I can go on without letting my husband see me naked. Wish me luck!

The anxiety

I don't know if it's because I read so many momblogs every day or what, but lately I've been experiencing this overwhelming anxiety to have Camila here. Outside. In my arms. Now.

Every day, about an hour and a half after I get up, and every night, at around 9 pm, I feel her kicking. I'm really starting to know her. What time she's the most active, how she moves much more when her daddy talks to her, but she does not let anyone but mommy feel her move.

And I see her crib and stroller sitting in her room (already!) and I just can't wait. And I start to get anxious. And I pray to God everything will be okay, that she will be okay. And to please make the next 4 months fly by because I really want to hold her.

My grandma (my mom's mom) is doing really bad. She's got a vascular dementia, so she's pretty much lost in time and space. She hardly ever recognizes her children, let alone her grandchildren. Now, before this dementia, she was the strongest, most self-sufficient woman I've known. She had 7 children. Her oldest, a daughter, with some guy no one's ever told me anything about. The other 6 --including my mom-- with my grandfather; a good person, but a terrible husband. So my gran suffered many years of infidelity and hardship, because he would spend all of his money on women, and she'd have to jump through hoops to keep her children well fed and modestly clothed.

But all in all, she was always such a strong woman. She looked at life straight in the eye, and raised incredible children. None of them drink or smoke. They're all incredibly honest and hard-working people. Some of them didn't even finish highschool, but they make an honest living nonetheless. And they all learned that from their mom. She was always strict, and had a really blunt way of saying things, but you just knew she loved you, despite the fact that she wasn't too big on hugging or kissing.

And now she doesn't even know I'm pregnant. And I don't know how much longer she'll be around. And I just want Camila to be here on time for my grandma to hold her, even though I know she won't realize that's her great-granddaughter in her arms.

Oh, for crying out loud!

I was over at ClubMom.com reading Parenting Pop Culture by blogger Meredith O'Brien, when I find a post that just made me realize, once again, just how morbid some people can be.

Apparently, BabyTalk magazine's August issue had the picture of a breastfeeding baby in its cover. Which caused many prudes to jump up and censor the fact that a HUMONGOUS BREAST WAS ON THE COVER OF A PARENTING MAGAZINE OH MY GOD THE APOCALYPSE.

How is it possible that some people find the picture of a baby feeding from mommy's breast dirty? Well, you need to have a filthy mind. That way you'll be able to look at everything and turn it into something offensive. I mean, what kind of person would think it's possible for anyone to get aroused by the sight of a baby eating? If you think your kid might, you might want to examine the kind of education you're giving them.

Yech.

Guess what? I suck.

Well, I've officially gotten my first not-so-happy comment. From the first internet person to ever tell me I'm funny. Does that say complete suckitude or what?

You know, I've never really thought much of my writing skills; however, I'm really starting to panic because apparently stuff I write is being misinterpreted, which is one thing I've never had a problem with. I've always been able to speak my mind and be understood at once.

Plus, it really hurts when people inside the computer who were beginning to sort of like you don't anymore. But that's just one of my issues, and maybe material for another post.

***

On some more exciting --and much needed-- news, WE HAVE A CRIB, PEOPLE! And I just love it so much I have to post a pretty picture as soon as I can. The best part was, I got it from an acuaintance who's a co-sleeper so it's pretty much new, and it was only $80!!!! (Yup. I get pretty excited when i find a good bargain. REALLY EXCITED. Like someone-please-give-this-lady-a-cold-shower excited.)

And now, back to work. Blegh.

Apparently, some people inside the computer think I'm funny

But that's just because they don't know me. And that'll stay that way, because I live in a whole different country than most people who have ever read this blog. So, people will continue to think I'm funny, and I won't have to do anything about the Immense Dorkitude.

And now, question. Because I seriously need help. I'm just in sort of an awkward situation.

Here's the thing: since before I got pregnant, Michael had always said that he didn't want to know the sex of the baby. And then, as we approached 18 weeks, he changed his mind. Don't get me wrong, I was both thrilled and relieved that I wasn't going to need to hide the baby's presents and be constantly watching out for any comments that might give away the baby's sex and going insane and whatnot. So in summary, I was glad he changed his mind.

Not so much this time.

Because another thing Michael said since before I got pregnant was that he did not want to be there to see the birth, which I eventually accepted. Because let's face it, I'm a ginormous crybaby and the last thing I need is another ginormous crybaby barfing and fainting at the sight of blood and an expanding vagina with a baby coming out of it. I mean, I need someone there who can help me breathe and stay calm and not fling myself out the window. So we decided that my mom was going to be there during the birth with me. Why? A, she's given birth 3 times, so I'm guessing she's got this whole thing figured out by now; and 2, she's my mommy, and I really like her.

So as soon as we found out I was pregnant, my mom got all excited not only because this was going to be her first grandchild, but because she was going to be there to welcome her into the world. Exciting! And also, gross! But who cares! She's the proud grandmommy, so who gives a crap if sh'es gonna see my punani.

Except yesterday Michael did that thing he does that can be either cute or really annoying. He changed his mind, and now it turns out he wants to be there when Camila is born. With his eyes closed the whole time, of course, the big weenie.

So now I have no Idea what to do. As far as I know, hospitals here in Costa Rica only allow one person to be with the mother during delivery, so now I have to see who I let down: my mom or my husband. I'd feel much better if I could just punch Michael in the face, but I think he might get a little upset. And God knows that's like the last thing I need right now.

So how would you do it? Who would you let down? Help!

Ooh, ooh! I have something to tell you!

Guess what? I have some news!

IT'S A GIRL!!!!!!

Hee. I'm so happy! I mean, I'd be happy if it was a boy too, but I just always pictured myself having a baby girl first.

So, Camila it is. I'm 19 weeks pregnant, but she's got the size of a 20 week old baby. Plus, I've lost 6 pounds in the 4 months I've been pregnant. So, everything's great. Yay.