- Take French classes.

I am very, very good with languages.  Despite the fact that my writing here is not always the most beautiful thing, I understand language.  I adore French, and being bi-lingual here in Canada would be a boon; after French, I’d like to achieve conversational fluency in some of the other Romance languages (Spanish and Italian in particular, and probably Portugese) since they’ll be really simple to pick up.  I’d like to be able to speak Polish too.  Then I’d finally understand what my mom and her family are saying when they speak to one another when they don’t WANT us to know!

- Finish my first novel.

This will be SUCH a huge deal for me.  I have loved writing fiction for as long as I can remember, yet I’ve not finished anything longer than short story length.  I feel confident that I can achieve this goal in 2010, if not before.  Then I’ll get an actual printed copy via Createspace.com and it will be amazing.

- Get pregnant with #2!

Really I should say “have more sex” but, well, Maia’s gonna have a sibling eventually, so we might as well get this show on the road.

Have you thought about what 2010 will hold for you?

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So we drove out to where MIL was staying at her brother’s house, a drive of about an hour, and got Maia settled in there.  We went over any last-minute instructions we had — which to be honest, there really weren’t.  Maia snuggled into her grandma as we kissed her goodbye and walked away, and I heard her squealing and laughing as the door shut behind us, so that was a good note to leave on.  Even if my heart did clench a little because seriously? Didn’t she miss us?!

Chris and I ended up going into Toronto and eating at Milagro (warning, the website is Flash and plays music, because this is 1997, right?), where I had two large margaritas and an amaaazing steak dish.  The bartender, who was also our waiter, was really hot in that sort of American Eagle way, you know, the chiseled jaw and sandy blond hair and … well … let’s just say I apparently made it VERY CLEAR that I thought he was totally do-able, which might have had something to do with the two margaritas but I’m not saying for sure either way, because Chris ribbed me about it the moment we left the restaurant.

After eating, we headed to Second City Toronto theatre to see the show “Shut Up and Show Us Your Tweets”, which was hilaaaarious.  One part had me laughing so hard I was literally crying.  It had very little to do with Twitter other than the opening skit, but there was this:

Smirnoff Vodka, lime juice, and Rose’s Blue Cordial.  It pretty much tasted like raspberry lemonade.  Did I enjoy it?

Ohh yes.  I enjoyed it so much that I had two.  You know why I had two?  Because after my margaritas, I needed to continue drinking to ensure that I would not end up with a headache.  That’s completely logical. Poor Chris.  He’s always our designated driver.  I guess that’s what happens when you’re a control freak and have to be the one driving the car.

After the show, they had an improv set, but we ended up leaving before that started.  It was almost 10pm, and the drive home is about 35 minutes, and we were both feeling a little sleepy (fuck we’re old).

We talked about Maia off and on, but we did try to talk about everything else in our lives.  You know, like my job, his hopefully upcoming job training, my NaNoWriMo novel (he’s so good at helping me hash out plot points, even when we get into fights about them), the dogs… sometimes, though, there would be silence, we’d look at each other, and he’d say, “I’m sure she’s fine.”

When we got home, I agonized over whether or not to call MJ to see how the night had gone, but she had sent us both an email that soothed my nerves:

Hope you’re having a wonderful time.  Maia is just fine.  She had a nice dinner tonight. We played for a while and read her book.  She wasn’t ready to go to bed so we went down stairs and she played around.  She was a bit fussy but she was really getting tired.  I took her upstairs and put her blanket around her. I rocked her for while and she fell asleep within 2 mins.  She has been asleep since 7:30pm.

I made her a nice mixture of homemade applesauce and strawberries for breakfast. I bet she will sleep through the night.  If not I will rock her back to sleep. See you tomorrow.
Love you both,
Mom

Of course, I didn’t sleep through the night myself; I woke up a few times wondering where Maia was.  It was sad to wake up and know she wasn’t there next to me.

When MJ brought Maia back to us the next morning, I was SO HAPPY to see her, and she was just as happy to see me.  She wanted to nurse, and nursed longer than she has since she was a newborn.  I seriously thought my boobs were just going to give up and fall off my chest, that’s how long she was there.

As it turns out, Maia didn’t sleep through the night either (she rarely does), but MJ pulled her into bed and they slept that way.  And yeah, I totally cried when I heard that because seriously, HOW CUTE IS THAT.  Of course, Maia roams all over the bed when she sleeps, so MJ didn’t have a very restful night.

It was so nice, though, to have a date night with Chris.  We needed it.  It’s easy to forget to look at each other as spouses as well as parents.

Now I think I’m a date night addict.  I totally want to toss Maia at her uncle and aunt for a night and be like SEE YA.  That’d be nice.  They’re moving into a house with three bedrooms and they don’t have kids, so they can make one of the rooms hers.  I mean, that’s reasonable.  Right?

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This Girl Talk Thursday, we’re ranting about our jobs.

I’ve only worked one job that I absolutely hated from the moment I took it until the moment I quit:

GutterHelmet Sales Rep.

Yeah, GutterHelmet, that thingie that attaches to your gutters and keeps the leaves and sticks from getting in so your lazy ass doesn’t have to climb up a ladder and clean the debris out yourself.  I applied for and accepted this job because I thought it would be more money, and I was excited about the idea of traveling for work.

In reality, since I worked in the Flint/Saginaw area of Michigan (aka America’s dirty anus), I was trying to sell fancy gutters to people who couldn’t afford the payments on the house I was trying to sell them upgrades for.  In four weeks, I did not make a single sale, but neither did I walk into a single household with 1) a new / recent model car or 2) a pleasant-smelling interior or 3) someone who I genuinely believed could afford to purchase this upgrade.  And I’m sorry, I don’t care whether I’m supposed to be a heartless salesperson or not, but I can’t morally justify selling someone a frivolity but representing it as a necessity.  I can’t.  That’s not who I am.

Every Monday at 9am, we had a sales meeting at the head office… on the other side of the state.  This was about a two and a half hour drive — and I always had to work afterward — so I’d be on the road at 6:30am on Monday morning, drive to this meeting, drive back to my home area, and work from 2pm til 7pm.

I was driving a shitty little pick-up truck that belonged to my boyfriend’s father.  It huffed and grumbled and rattled when I drove, and since it had neither a cover for the cab nor a second row of seats, the front seat was always crowded.  You see, I had to buy a TV & VCR combo to lug around with me to every home for my sales demonstration, and of course I needed my portfolio, and lunch, and my purse, and in the winter a change of shoes and my heavy jacket.  I had many customers comment on my vehicle’s sorry state of being.  But I couldn’t afford to buy a new one.

Because I wasn’t making sales, they apprenticed me to a more experienced saleswoman.  She was the first person I ever met who was on the Atkins diet, and this meant that for lunch she would eat meat and cheese curds which really?  Gross.  She was a sweet woman, really kind to me and all, but she confided in me one day as we drove up to one of my sales calls: “We shouldn’t be visiting these people.  They can’t afford this stuff.”

And in all the time she was with me?  You guessed it.  Not a single sale.  She couldn’t sell this stuff to these people either.

Eventually, I was fired because I didn’t fax them a copy of my social security card.   I refused to fax it.  I suppose this was something that somehow was too crucial for HR to wait for me to deliver it by hand at the weekly meeting three days later, because when I arrived at the meeting I was escorted to HR and kindly told I was being let go.

They totally lost money by hiring me.

I winked at my boss on the way out.

Sucka!

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My mother lives in Connecticut, and Chris’ mother lives in Florida.  We hadn’t seen her since May, but she is up visiting this week and so spent most of the afternoon on Monday here playing with Maia.  They got along really well.  Maia is just a doll and MJ, my mother-in-law, is completely enchanted by her.

(also, seriously? can’t you tell they’re related?)

I loved seeing them get along with one another.  We even left them together for an hour while Chris and I went out and did some grocery shopping and had Wendy’s for lunch (very romantic, I know; don’t be jealous!) and everything went fine.

And even though I couldn’t stop smiling, I felt my heart twisting in my chest.

I wish Maia always had her family around.  I wish we were visiting Grandma or Grandpa or Babcia every weekend.  I wish they were seeing her grow up the way I do, not just through pictures and videos online, or rare visits.  Last time that my mother saw Maia, Maia rolled onto her stomach for the first time.  Now she’s practically walking.

I want Maia to be surrounded with even more love than Chris and I can give her.

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For example, I was folding shirts once (story of my life…) when a father walked by with his daughter on his shoulders.
Her: “What’s that?”
Him: “Clothes.”
Her: “What’s that?”
Him: “More clothes.”
Her: “What’s that?”
Him: “A woman.”
Her: “What about that?”
Him: “Clothes.”
He didn’t miss a beat.  His tone of voice never changed.  He had a haunted look on his face, but when he saw me watching them he grinned and winked at me.  I thought of Chris and Maia, and smiled.

Or this mom and daughter pair:
Mom: “Do you want some popcorn?”
Kid: *giggles like crazy* “YOU’RE popcorn!”
Mom: “No, you’re popcorn!”
Kid: *giggling more* “YOU’RE popcorn!”
Mom: *laughs* “No, you’re popcorn!”
And so on , until they went out of hearing.  They were both so happy with their little joke.

On Thursday night, I went in to work to try on and buy a few things before our huge sale ended.  Unknown to me, there was some sort of Halloween event going on in the mall and so a bunch of kids in costumes were walking through the store.  Maia was kinda flopped over in her stroller the way she does sometimes, sitting sideways, feet up on one side, body hunched into the opposite corner — basically, she looked like she was totally chillaxing.

A family with a  little fireman walked by.  I beamed at them and complimented their costume, and the dad asked, “Is your daughter being a gangster?”

I can’t wait to dress her in costumes.  My little gangster, my firewoman, my kitty cat, my Little Bo Peep, my Rapunzel… whatever she wants to be…

Also, I want to dress up with her.  I haven’t put on a costume for Halloween in years and years, since I was in Connecticut and dressed as a goth (which really just meant wearing my non-work clothes into work, with extra dramatic makeup).  I mean, just think of it.  She could be a firewoman and I’d be a fire.  She could be Yoda, I’d be Leia.  She could be Little Bo Peep, I’d be a sheep.

We will be awesome.

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I’m hosting Girl Talk Thursday this week, topic is “Your Ideal Lunch Date“.  Drop by, leave your thoughts, and please, if you like — participate!

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My mother once told me that “You’ll never know how much I love you until you have a daughter of your own”.  I know I’ve written that here before, but it echoes in my mind constantly.  I know how true those words are.

Their love humbles me.

My love for them strengthens me.

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This Girl Talk Thursday, we’re talking about our vices.

Carbs – If it’s possible to be clinically addicted to carbs, then I am.  Chris was talking to me about the Atkins diet and as he continued to list things that I should avoid eating — bread, pasta, cereal, fruit — I finally threw up my hands and exclaimed, “That’s not a life worth living!”  Seriously, no cereal or toast for breakfast?  No sandwiches for lunch?  Fruit for snacks?  No rice or pasta as part of dinner? Who the hell does that to themselves intentionally?!

Swearing – I can’t help it.  I really, really try to swear less, but I use the words “fuck” and “bitch” habitually.  I wish I didn’t, Chris wishes I didn’t, and god knows I don’t want Maia to learn these words from me, but sometimes, no other word works.

Messiness – Ever since that GTT where we shared roommate stories and I cleaned off my desk, I have been trying desperately to keep it clean.  I’m doing an alright job, although it’s definitely got a few extra things on it.  However, my bedroom?  Messssssy. Dirty clothes shoved into one corner, clean clothes in folded stacks sitting atop my dresser, an unmade bed with twisted blankets…

Coffee - Throughout my pregnancy, the smell and taste of coffee made me nauseous.  Before I got pregnant, I used to drink a pot of coffee every morning; now, I drink a few cups a day, usually one or two in the morning, sometimes one in the afternoon, and a decaf at night. This might explain why I need to get my teeth whitened.

The Internet – Blogs, Facebook, Twitter, four or five different forums, the entire I Can Haz Cheezburger network of sites… I can’t get away from it.  I love the ‘Net.  I think I’m addicted to the social aspects of it, the constant exchange of conversation.

Procrastination - You see, I’ve been thinking about this week’s GTT post since Monday.  It’s now noon on Thursday and I’m finally typing it up.  Every year, my New Year’s Resolution is “procrastinate less” and … well, the fact that it’s STILL my resolution and I haven’t moved on to something else yet probably tells you all you need to know about how successful that has been!

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Dear yuppie woman with crimped hair: When you walked by the sweaters I was folding, your husband said, “Oh, those are cashmere!” I said, “Actually, they’re merino wool.”  But you listened to him, not me, and when your perfectly manicured nails brushed the sweaters, you recoiled in horror and stared at me. “That’s not cashmere,” you gasped, “that’s merino wool!“  No shit, Sherlock.  Although I’m impressed with you knowing the fabric so quickly, I told you it wasn’t cashmere.

Dear teenage girl who tried on the size 2 leggings: First off, leaving shit on the floor of the dressing room is LAME.  Leaving it inside out is even lamer.  Also, judging by the fact that the seam of these leggings were split up the left thigh, you are not a size 2.  However, most people aren’t, so don’t beat yourself up or develop an eating disorder or some shit over it.  Just try on your actual size next time, instead of making me trash merchandise.  Oh, and put it back on the fucking hanger please.  Thanks.

Dear people looking at the ugly DKNY sweater: Stop fucking unfolding it, realizing how ugly it is, and throwing it back atop the other sweaters.  Not a single one has sold in two weeks, and I doubt you’re going to be the one to break this streak.  I fold this goddamned sweater 4+ times an hour and I am so, so sick of it.

Dear mom buying the super cute pair of clearance jeans in size 18mo: Please return them.  I want them for Maia and the only other size is 2T, and to be honest I don’t even know what that means yet, and I feel like when I said to you, “Oh gosh, those are soooo cute!” you should have said “Much like your daughter.  Here, have them!”

Dear people going into the changing room at 8:30pm with arms full of clothing: Baby Jesus hates you, and so do I.

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The nursery has pretty much been used as a storage room since we moved in.  Maia doesn’t sleep in it, but there’s a lot taking up space there.  We’ve moved her crib into our bedroom and the nursery is still just a jumble of STUFF.

When I clean, I like to put everything in my sight and then work from there.  So here’s how the nursery looked this morning after I put everything in the middle of the room:

And here’s what it looks like now:

(Even when we put her hair up…. it falls down into her face.  Also, she loves that exercise ball WAY MORE than I ever did!)

The great thing is that now we can let her crawl in there and play anytime she wants, since it’s totally baby proofed!

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