Lord, save me from saying something sarcastic!

They ask, "Who is the father?"

I think, "You know, I'm not actually sure. It might have been the sailor I met at Navy Pier. Or maybe it was one of the guys I met at that party. Or the bartender, or the milkman, or the traveling salesman, but you know what? My fiancée is the only one I've slept with, so odds are it's him."

I need to give people the benefit of the doubt. But when they use that one tone of voice, it sounds like they just might picture me as a frolicking whore.

I think, "It's people like you that make me understand why thousands of women have abortions every year. It's people like you that make young girls so afraid of social scorn, they go to great lengths to make sure nobody finds out. And you know what? I have moments when I don't blame them. At least they don't have to deal with people like you asking who the father is!"

But I never say those things that I think. I wonder why?

Ah-roo-oo-oo, too

Emma is growing so fast, it's difficult for her wardrobe to keep up with her. She just turned three months last week, and we're already packing up the 3-6 month clothes in favor of the 6-9 month. Now the red dress that Meng and I thought she might be able to wear for Christmas might be too small for Thanksgiving!

Also in recent developments, Emma is talking in full sentences. Of course, we have no idea what she is actually saying, but she is very articulate in her "ang-woo-roo-roo's" and "ha-ah-la-ha's."

In all seriousness, we really did spend the better part of our interaction today simply talking. I would tell her what I was doing, what we were going to do, or what someone else was doing. She would watch me, or the other person involved, smile, and say something similar to, "ah-wa-loo." I realize that they aren't actually words, but it is definitely the first step to communication, and I'm excited. I mean, she understands that we take turns making noises, and she seems to get rather frustrated when she can't get her point across. She is also catching on to that her name is Emma, that I am "Mommy" and that Meng is "Daddy."

The best part is when we look at her and say, "I love you." I almost think in her own way she understands, because she always smiles really big and says, "ah-roo-oo-oo."

Looking at my Watch

This morning Meng had to come in and tell me to hurry up while I was taking a shower (shocking, I know). He reminded me of when we need to leave and without even thinking I looked at my watch and said, "Okay. I'll be out in five minutes."

What's even more strange? I don't ever wear a watch.

Still Sniffley

Greetings from Chicago! Emma and I are slowly working on moving in with Meng and his parents. We alternate weeks in Chicago and Michigan. Hopefully we'll be here to stay week after next.

Whatever it was that Emma got last week, she has given it to all of us. Either that or Meng has given it to all of us. It's really quite difficult to tell who infected who at this point. Symptoms include a runny nose, which turns into a sore throat, which becomes blocked sinuses, then finally clears up and turns into a hacking cough. As far as we can tell, it's over once you lose your voice. We're hoping Emma is spared the better part of these symptoms, but my mom and I are both suffering from the cycle right now.

Emma is still has the sniffles, but we've been using a saline spray called Little Noses, which can be found at any pharmacy, and a ball aspirator, which makes me cry every time we use it on her. It flushes the sinuses pretty well, and she's pretty content for most of the day. If she has the pounding sinus headache, she hasn't told us yet.

We're quite the lot, the three of us. Meng with his hacking cough, me with the headaches and Emma with the sniffles. This morning we all crowded into the bathroom, turned the shower on as hot as it would go and took a family steam.

I discovered a brilliant product (actually, my mom discovered a brilliant product) that I think is the best thing since sliced bread. Remember when you were little, and your mom would put you to bed with Vicks Vaporub on a tissue for you hold next to your nose? Introducing Puffs Plus with the scent of Vicks, the innovative tissue that combines the two products your mom loved. I'm a huge fan, if you can't tell. If you're stuffy this season, I recommend you go and get some, cause it's amazing.

Huh...

I found this site through my aunt, who posted it on her Facebook wall. Birth or Not is a blog on which a married couple is letting the public decide whether or not they will get an abortion. On the site there is a polling box where you can cast your vote. They've set the poll ending to two days prior to the last possible day they can abort.

From what I can tell, these people are serious. A reference can be made to their post titled "We Meant What We Said," where Pete and Aisha state that they are not going to devalue the power of the vote, even though some people are voting for them to abort simply because they think it's funny.

I didn't find this all that disturbing at first. Even though I chose not to get an abortion, and I would never advise someone to get an abortion, I have no right to dictate how they make their decisions. Of course I cast my vote, and then started looking around. That's when I saw...

She's sixteen weeks pregnant. I know that doesn't sound like it's very far into the pregnancy but it's enough to get a good ultra-sound picture. They even gave it a tentative name! I just can't imagine leaving a baby's fate to the public after you've seen it. It's like casually agreeing that a perfectly healthy puppy should be shot while you're scratching it's ears, only there's more at stake.

I can't say I was happy when I found out I was pregnant. I can't say that pregnancy was a joy that I'll never forget, or that getting pregnant was the best thing that ever happened to me, and there were a lot of mornings where I'd wake up and hope it had all been some terribly long, drawn out nightmare. But when I went to have my 20 week ultrasound and I saw a little head and arms and legs, I knew that this was my baby and that I'd never want to give her up.

I just can't imagine...

Sniffle-y Baby

Emma has had the sniffles for almost a week now. Of course, she cannot communicate to me the extent of her symptoms, so I don't know if she has a sore throat like I or a headache like Meng has, but she doesn't have a fever, so I haven't taken her in to see the doctor. We talked to an RN at the pediatrician's office who told us to use saline spray and a nasal aspirator in that order every two hours. I can't tell how much it is helping, but she sure does cry a lot when we do it.

It might be just as hard on her as it is on me, though I don't cry as much. The thing is that somewhere in the recesses of my mind I have logged away the memory of my mom using that on me... As I recall, it is a shocking experience every time it happens. My eyes are watering thinking about it.

She just isn't catching on to the nose blowing idea.

Sunday

What is it about a Sunday that is inherently lazy? I'm sitting in the living room in the midst of clutter, wishing it would somehow clean itself, and yet I cannot bring myself to disturb the serene silence of the house. Even the houseflies (why are there so many of them in the house?) have silenced themselves and are no where to be fou-- I take that back. One is staring at me from his perch on the table lamp.

These flies are remarkable, in the older sense of the word, that they are interesting enough to warrant a remark. You know how flies usually are so fast that when you swat at them, no matter how quick you are they always end up staring at you from the other side of the room? These are not that kind of fly. They're bigger, for one. And they don't usually fly around the center of the room. They spend all their time near the ceiling, and are so slow, that yesterday I was actually able to vacuum up about twenty of them. That's the other remarkable thing. There are so many!!! I'm tempted to wonder if there's a body hidden in the house. But if that were the case, surely I'd smell the decay before the flies showed up.

Also, they've avoided the trash can completely, and the baby's room. Interesting. Very interesting.

I met myself at the grocery store

I've been in a slump lately. Actually, I've been in a slump for the last three or four months. What with major life changes happening in short amounts of time, and things not quite turning out the way I expected, and the future being uncertain, I suppose it is quite normal that I should be in a slump, but it's been taking over and my life has been rather on the miserable side.

That was the last three or four months. This is Today.

Today, I got (sorry mom) royally pissed off. I got pissed off at the government, for sending me repeated notices that I needed to contact someone, and then sending me to voicemail. I got pissed off at the grant programs, who only offer school money to single moms who have never started secondary education. I got really pissed off at cultural differences that I don't understand and the people who are trying to make me just accept them. But mostly, I got pissed off at myself for putting up with it all.

Let's take a break.

I've been entertaining myself lately by reading comic strips, mostly 9 Chickweed Lane and Rose is Rose. Something I've noticed that these two strips have in common is that the main character women have alter-egos; it's a stronger, idealistic and fantastic version of themselves that they summon from within when faced with a difficult or frustrating situation.

Both strips have mentioned that every woman has an alter-ego. That would certainly explain the sudden urges I've had in the past to pull a non-existent switchblade out of my pocket, throw an imaginary hand grenade, and pretend to have laser eyes. All this time I've thought that it was just me wanting to be someone else. But this is Today.

Today someone else started calling the shots. It started when I caught a guy not-very-discreetly checking me out at the dollar store. I've been known to have effective glares in the past, but when I'd passed this guy bye, you'd have thought I shot him. Somehow I ended up in the cosmetic department where there was a sale on lipstick... red lipstick. Then there was the incredible urge to punch the gas at the green light. It wasn't till I got to the grocery store that I actually saw her.

It was in the produce section. I was putting sweet potatoes in a bag when it split down the side and sent the vegetable everywhere. She came out of no where, opened up a new bag and collected the sweet potatoes using her telekinetic powers, and moved on. I followed her through the store as she picked out (among other things) a steak for dinner and a bottle of Cabernet, until we got to the toiletries aisle. She looked me right in the eye and pointed at the bottom shelf, and there, with a thin layer of dust, was the red hair dye.

We didn't talk a whole lot on the way home. She likes Black Eyed Peas, Sean Kingston and Pink, wears all black and a mardi gra mask with gold scrolling on the left, no matter the occasion. When we got home she pointed out to me the pencil skirt that's been hiding in the back of my closet, and the earrings I never wear because I think they're too nice. She's going to be around, I think. Have I mentioned she's a red-head?

I've been feeling pretty useless lately. I've been feeling like a blob, a non-person, a shadow. But today I met myself at the grocery store. I'm not a super-woman, but my alter-ego is, and I'm going to let her drive for a while.