Yellow Mom is visiting me this weekend.
"Wow, you look so big!" she remarked when she saw my expectant belly.
"Yes," I replied.
"Grandma says that because you are beautiful, your daughter will be beautiful."
"Oh, that's sweet," I said.
She then looked at my face. "Why do you have so many zits?"
There it was, the familiar Yellow Mom gem.
I've heard the old wives' tale that, during pregnancy, a daughter steals her mother's beauty. And if that's the case, this Baby Yellow Gal is doing a hell of a job. I've been breaking out like an adolescent throughout my entire pregnancy. So much for that "pregnancy glow" that every other pregnant woman seems to rave about.
"I started breaking out since I got pregnant," I said. "You didn't break out when you were pregnant?"
"No," she said, her face still crinkled in horror.
"Oh, okay," I said. Really, how else do you respond to that? So much for that facial earlier this week.
My zits notwithstanding, Baby Yellow Gal seems to be thriving within. A month to go!
Saturday, June 23, 2012
Monday, June 04, 2012
If estranged friends could really talk openly
"I've noticed that we haven't been as close as we used to be."
"Yep."
"Why is that?"
"I don't think we have as much in common anymore."
"What do you mean?"
"You like to be negative and complain about your life all the time. And I no longer want to be negative nor do I want to hear you complain about your life all the time. Does that make sense?"
"I think so."
"I just think we're different people. You need to find a friend who likes to indulge your depressive rants, who doesn't mind that you can talk about yourself nonstop for hours at a time without once asking her how she is doing, and who enjoys conversations where any time she mentions herself you feel the need to veer the conversation back to your purportedly awful life. I'm just not that friend, I'm sorry to say."
"Oh I see."
"Awesome. So no hard feelings?"
"No."
"Okay, take care."
"You too."
And at least one of them lived happily ever after.
"Yep."
"Why is that?"
"I don't think we have as much in common anymore."
"What do you mean?"
"You like to be negative and complain about your life all the time. And I no longer want to be negative nor do I want to hear you complain about your life all the time. Does that make sense?"
"I think so."
"I just think we're different people. You need to find a friend who likes to indulge your depressive rants, who doesn't mind that you can talk about yourself nonstop for hours at a time without once asking her how she is doing, and who enjoys conversations where any time she mentions herself you feel the need to veer the conversation back to your purportedly awful life. I'm just not that friend, I'm sorry to say."
"Oh I see."
"Awesome. So no hard feelings?"
"No."
"Okay, take care."
"You too."
And at least one of them lived happily ever after.
Friday, May 25, 2012
Begotten of the begotten
It's unreal that she is less than 9 weeks away. Little Yellow Gal.
I've been waiting to meet this person for several months. It feels like a blind date, in a strange way. I'm faced with similar questions: What will she look like? Will we get along? What kind of personality will she have? Will she love me? What if she thinks I'm a loser? (Okay, that is probably inevitable.)
The whole motherhood concept is inarticulable. As I anticipate the immense expense and commitment of having a daughter, I can't help but reflect upon how I was as a daughter. And, well, along with that, all the grief I caused my parents.
Not that I was an awful demon child. I didn't sneak out with boys at 2 am or smoke pot in my room. But I was an angsty teen. I complained a lot. I felt perpetually deprived of all the things I felt I deserved as an American adolescent. I didn't have as many or nice of clothes, receive as many Christmas gifts, or get to drive a new car like other kids did.
Oh, the injustice. And how I protested against this injustice -- through hours and days of whining, crying, door-slamming, and sulking.
It didn't matter that my parents first came to this country with barely the money to afford an apartment and food. I wanted the same shit everyone else had, and resented my parents -- yes, even hated them at times -- because I couldn't have those things, which I believed were the key to adolescent happiness.
You don't realize what you had . . . until you have to provide it for your own kid. The hubs and I are off to a better start than my parents were. Yet still, I can't imagine enduring all the demands of a teenage girl.
Do I dare admit that reflecting upon my imminent parenthood makes me a little bit more grateful for what they did for me? (Mmm, maybe later.)
I've been waiting to meet this person for several months. It feels like a blind date, in a strange way. I'm faced with similar questions: What will she look like? Will we get along? What kind of personality will she have? Will she love me? What if she thinks I'm a loser? (Okay, that is probably inevitable.)
The whole motherhood concept is inarticulable. As I anticipate the immense expense and commitment of having a daughter, I can't help but reflect upon how I was as a daughter. And, well, along with that, all the grief I caused my parents.
Not that I was an awful demon child. I didn't sneak out with boys at 2 am or smoke pot in my room. But I was an angsty teen. I complained a lot. I felt perpetually deprived of all the things I felt I deserved as an American adolescent. I didn't have as many or nice of clothes, receive as many Christmas gifts, or get to drive a new car like other kids did.
Oh, the injustice. And how I protested against this injustice -- through hours and days of whining, crying, door-slamming, and sulking.
It didn't matter that my parents first came to this country with barely the money to afford an apartment and food. I wanted the same shit everyone else had, and resented my parents -- yes, even hated them at times -- because I couldn't have those things, which I believed were the key to adolescent happiness.
You don't realize what you had . . . until you have to provide it for your own kid. The hubs and I are off to a better start than my parents were. Yet still, I can't imagine enduring all the demands of a teenage girl.
Do I dare admit that reflecting upon my imminent parenthood makes me a little bit more grateful for what they did for me? (Mmm, maybe later.)
Saturday, March 10, 2012
Why is it
that when I see a memorial, webpage, or commercial about a suffering or dying pet, I start tearing up uncontrollably? I need to get a grip.
Yellow baby-to-be
As I predicted in my previous entry, I am having a girl. As soon as the sonographer typed onto the ultrasound screen, "IT'S A BABY GIRL!!!" I nodded knowingly, while my husband laughed excitedly.
A girl. A little yellow girl.
I wonder what she'll look like, and whom she will take after. I hope her temperament is more like her father's - patient, good-natured, forgiving, easy-going, and generous.
I hope that she's a happy child, that her heart isn't broken too many times, and that she learns to look ahead and not dwell on hurts of the past.
Does every mother want her daughter to be a better, happier woman than the mother could be? Is that an unfair burden for a girl to bear? I suppose it depends on how the mother manifests that hope; whether she is overbearing and controlling, or encouraging and respectful.
Which leads me to my second hope - that I'll be a good mom.
How does a person prepare to take on the most difficult job in the world with zero experience or training?
Not really sure. But ready or not, here she comes (soon!).
A girl. A little yellow girl.
I wonder what she'll look like, and whom she will take after. I hope her temperament is more like her father's - patient, good-natured, forgiving, easy-going, and generous.
I hope that she's a happy child, that her heart isn't broken too many times, and that she learns to look ahead and not dwell on hurts of the past.
Does every mother want her daughter to be a better, happier woman than the mother could be? Is that an unfair burden for a girl to bear? I suppose it depends on how the mother manifests that hope; whether she is overbearing and controlling, or encouraging and respectful.
Which leads me to my second hope - that I'll be a good mom.
How does a person prepare to take on the most difficult job in the world with zero experience or training?
Not really sure. But ready or not, here she comes (soon!).
Saturday, January 14, 2012
The Year of the Dragon draws near
I realize it's been several months since my last post. The reason being, only a few weeks after my previous post, I learned (or suspected) I was pregnant.
Yes, pregnant!
I wasn't 100.00% sure because pregnancy tests can have false positive results. But when I saw the doctor in December, it was confirmed. I am indeed with child.
It wasn't completely unexpected. The hubby and I were trying, but didn't expect to succeed during the first month of trying. Needless to say, it was a lifestyle change to forgo all booze, caffeine, and sushi even before we began trying.
So! I'm due in July, in the year of the Dragon. It should be an auspicious year. I have a feeling the baby will be a girl. The eldest child -- possibly a dragon girl -- will indeed be a feisty, fiery force to be reckoned with. Hopefully she will have only half the sass her mom has.
And so a Yellow Gal may beget another Yellow Gal.
Yes, pregnant!
I wasn't 100.00% sure because pregnancy tests can have false positive results. But when I saw the doctor in December, it was confirmed. I am indeed with child.
It wasn't completely unexpected. The hubby and I were trying, but didn't expect to succeed during the first month of trying. Needless to say, it was a lifestyle change to forgo all booze, caffeine, and sushi even before we began trying.
So! I'm due in July, in the year of the Dragon. It should be an auspicious year. I have a feeling the baby will be a girl. The eldest child -- possibly a dragon girl -- will indeed be a feisty, fiery force to be reckoned with. Hopefully she will have only half the sass her mom has.
And so a Yellow Gal may beget another Yellow Gal.
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