Cuba
The nice thing about Cuba was the sunshine. We only got a couple periods of rain or overcast skies and the rest was blissful blissful heat. I tan pretty easily, and within a day had gone from a sickly corpse-grey colour, to honeyed brown. Bless these native roots of mine!
Everything else about Cuba however, wasn't very pleasant. I went with a gaggle (yes I think it is appropriate to call 13 of us a gaggle) of cousins, all of whom were of legal drinking age in Cuba, except 11-year old Glen. Poor Glen and I. The only ones who couldn't take advantage of the alcohol part of "all-inclusive" (And even Glen snuck a beer from time to time!). So while my family was getting tipsy every night and hooting it up until 3 or 4 a.m., I was always back in the room by midnight, which meant I was on hair or hand-holding duty for those who came back to puke or cry. Fun fun.
Also, and I know it is bad to look a gift-horse in the mouth, but 4.5 stars in Cuba is a veeeeerrrry different rating system than the rest of the world. I don't think anywhere else has 4.5 star rooms with concrete-like matresses, and cockroaches as bathtub mates.
I don't want to talk about the food, because it still makes me feel a bit queasy, but that might just be the pregnancy, since no one else seemed as adversely affected as me in this way. At least there was lots of it. At any point in the day or night, you could get a virgin pina colada, and a slice of pizza. Or a hamburger. I don't know how I didn't gain 15 pounds.
Rum is 3 pesos for a 750ml bottle.
I spent a lot of time sitting on a beach chair reflecting on the dissimilarity between Cuban life as perceived through these resort settings, and real Cuban life out there. But I'm writing a 12-page paper on ALBA and Cuban trade policies right now, and I'm feeling burnt out on the topic, so I won't go into it. Lets just say its the first time a holiday made me feel guilty.
By the time we were ready to fly home, I was happy to leave. I was missing my hunny, my dog, my bed and my food. I'm grateful for the experience and the memories with my family, and I'm grateful for my tan (which I STILL have! Woot Woot!), and we got some nice pictures to make the rest of Canadians jealous, but I think it will be a few lifetimes before I set foot in Cuba again.
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| My sister and I. Bikinis in February :-) |
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| Girlies enjoying the pool. The 4 on the left are the traditional "Bagg Girls". We have been inseparable since childhood |
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| My favourite picture of me from the trip. Look at that sky! Bliss.... |
Baby
Well, we had our twenty week ultrasound last week. I can't believe how much bean has grown in 2 months. We could literally count the fingers and toes! We told the ultrasound technician that we wanted to know the sex as soon as I hopped up on that table and pushed down my maternity band, but for some sadistic reason, she didn't even attempt to look between the baby's legs until she finished all the organ and structural assessments and measurements. Surely she must have known that we were dying to know, had been counting down the days, and were now holding our breath! Has anyone else had a similar experience? Personally, if I was the technician, I'd tell them right away. Why make the poor parents suffer?
We waited for over 20 minutes. That's a looooong suspensful time in a cold room. Taz held my hand. Finally the evil mean tech said "well, I've got everything I need, lets see if we can get a sex for baby."
IT'S A GIRL!!! Hooray for mommy and for the cabbage test too!!! I know its different for all parents, but for me, real feelings of love and amazement came in two stages: 1. The first time I felt the baby kick (While in Cuba, at 16 weeks exactly - isn't that oddly early for new mothers? I'm not sure.) and 2. When the gender results had about an hour to sink it. It was like a slow warming over my whole body. Wow. A daughter. I have a daughter.
People say it "shouldn't" matter boy or girl, but I've spent the last 5 years of my life immersed in politics and gender studies, and I could talk you to tears about the ways in which it DOES matter. It matters a lot. Here is just one example of the social implications of gender that Taz and I got to live first hand:
Me: "Mom, we're having a girl!"
Mom: "Yay, pink!"
and later (discussing baby clothes shopping): "Maybe go easy on Taz at first. Get pink, but not too many ruffles"
Me: *silence* Until that point, I hadn't even thought about ruffles. Ruffles???
Taz: We are having a girl!
Danny (My little bro): Oh....so how do YOU feel about that? (Implied assumption of male disappointment.)
Taz: I'm HAPPY mate!
I love my fiance. Not once has he expressed anything but extreme excitement at the thought of his "little princess:.
And me, I'm waging a mini-rebellion against pink. On Monday, Taz and I went to Value Village for their monthly 50% off sale. This is the best clothing sale known to me ever, and one of the only reasons I am going to miss Kingston. Value Village prices reduced by 50%!!! We bought Amelia literally over 20 items of clothing from sleepers to sweaters, overalls to dresses, and we spent $34.33. Nothing has stains or rips or signs of wear, and some things had original tags. I see things online at baby gap that individually cost more than $34.00.
Anyway, the point is that with very few exceptions (3 I think?) the clothes we bought were NOT pink. We went hogwild on the blues and a little nuts for the reds and browns. I was batty over the cutest navy and green overalls, and Taz chose a yellow onesie with the caption "Captain Adorable" in brown. Who says our little girl can't be a captain? I'll punch 'em in the mouth! I know that well-meaning baby shower gifts will probably be predominantly pink, and that's fine. I have nothing against the colour existing. I have beef with its dominance and the implications of assigning a colour to a gender.
It starts with a colour, and before you know it, its "Honey, you can't play football. I'm sorry, but its too masculine a sport for you" And yes, I did just directly quote my mother speaking to 14-year old me.
There are very few absolute statements I am going to make about my upcoming role as a parent, since I've heard that is an unrealistic thing to do. But one thing is certain: I will never tell my daughter that she can't do something because it is something that "only boys do". The only thing a girl can't do in this whole wide world, is be a sperm donor. Everything else is fair game.
Amelia has been kicking and punching now for exactly a month, although it has gotten much stronger than it was initially! Nowadays, when lectures are particularly boring (like they are in Monday's Research Methods class) I can lean back and watch my stomach move when she does. Flutters have become twinges, and now daddy can feel the movements too! Last night, Peach was cuddling on my lap, curled around my tummy. It was so cute that I had to take a picture....
After a really strong series of kicks from the baby, kitty gave me a disgusted look, and strolled off in a huff. Does that mean that kitty felt the baby too? Stats
Belly = between 34.5" and 35" around now. I finally feel like I look pregnant, not just "thick". In Cuba, I was still in that transition phase, and you could only see a bump if I was sideways. Now though, when I stroll through the library on my oh-so-frequent trips to the bathroom, it's more like "Pregnant Girl Walkin! Clear The Way Please!"
Weight Gain = up 11 pounds last week. I guess that's good but still I creeeenge!
Nausea = down
Heartburn =waaay up. Tums are my new best buddies.
Sweating = not a noticeable increase yet
Hair = Oh, you mean this glossy shampoo-ad mane? Yeah, I'm rockin it just fine.
Mood Swings = remain violent, unpredictable, and tear-ridden. I got sniffly during the new Star Wars 3D movie when the little boy says goodbye to his mom.
Cravings = NONE! :( I am totally feeling cheated on this part!
Sex
How to describe my new relationship to sex? Well, last night, I was laying in bed thinking about the word "orgasmic". I'm considering writing a paper on how that particular word should be banned from metaphorical use. Calling chocolate, a good movie, a good wine, a pleasant afternoon, or anything else mildly pleasurable "orgasmic" does an injustice to the good old orgasm, people!
Nothing. Comes. Close. To. Orgasm.
That's my new pregnancy-based opinion. I don't know if its increased blood flow, or what, but its my mantra, religion, and hobby all rolled up into one.
It has also sparked a few tensions between Taz and I lately. The poor man is still working 5 nights a week at the restaurant/bar, plus usually one 8 hour shift building or tearing down concert sets at the K-Rock centre. He doesn't have the time or energy to deal with my new rampant...well...horniness. (There. I have officially made it so I can never show this blog to my mom)
New horniness, plus new mood swings has made me unreasonably grumpy towards Taz sometimes, and we are still hammering out a solution. I think over time this will resolve itself, but right now, all I can think about is how Amelia is going to radically alter our current sex life, and how much I want to enjoy it the way it is right now. Preferably twice a day.
School
Ugh! UUUUUUUUGGGggggggghhhhhh-please-god-let-it-be-over!!!!! I don't want to think about how many papers are looming like evil bombs in the next 3 weeks. So I won't. On the plus side, I got an A- on a paper I pumped out in 3 hours, after learning that there was NO LATE PAPERS ACCEPTED in a class I joined late. Yay for coffee and feminist sociological bullshitting. And I am half-way through my mid-terms. By Friday I will be done! And I will celebrate by finalizing my ALBA paper, and writing another on the consitutional voting rights of Canadian prisoners. Why not? I can't get drunk....
Hmmm...what else is new? Oh, I know...
Wedding Plans
My parents are going craaazy with the wedding planning. Its fine by me, since I don't really have time or grey matter left to think about chair rentals and catering. All I want is a nice dress, a pretty ceremony site, close friends, and a wonderful photographer. We still have to iron out the dress details (buy or sew?), but the rest is falling into place
Dad is excited about a barn dance, and is clearing an area for people to park their trailers, should they want to bring them. (Is that redneck banjo music I hear in the background?) But its fine, really. To be honest, a lot of my hometime friends will probably be thrilled with the idea of a temporary trailer park and tent platforms. I'm just making sure that Taz and I are loooong gone before my reception becomes a bonfire/whiskey-fueled four-wheeler excursion, sometime around 11 p.m. I'm going to ask Bob House (the wonderful photographer I snagged) to try to capture the rich variety of guests. I bet at least one person wears suspenders to hold up pants where a belt has lost the battle agains the beer belly!
I've realized that my life is infinitely more complicated than this time last year, and something tells me this is just the beginning! GAH!
