The way things make me feel

Many years ago a friend of mine was seeing a man whom she quite liked. He had come out of a marriage/serious relationship a few years before, and although i wasn't sure if this was his first significant relationship since then, it certainly was one of note. My girlfriend was VERY eager for marriage and a family. The whole box and dice. But this guy's behaviour was not in keeping with that life plan. In fact, it seemed quite obvious to me that he was still not over his past relationship and in fact, was still suffering. I said to her once, when asked on my thoughts on him, that he seemed to be still not over his ex, and that she should be careful with him. But she couldn't see it. She replied, "But that was ages ago. He SHOULD be over her by now."

They broke up. Because, he wasn't ready for a relationship, because he wasn't over his ex. (Very rarely can I be insightful with regards to relationship advice!) She wanted to tell him how he SHOULD be feeling, and it just wasn't right for him and he certainly wasn't ready.

Of late, I have been encountering some resistance from some people around me telling me how I SHOULD be feeling right now during my pregnancy. My mother is a prime perpetrator, as well as some other women whom I have encountered. If I complain that I am feeling not particularly enamoured with this whole pregnancy thing, because I am tried of the zillionth pregnancy induced headache, or my hips are aching, or whatever else it is, the response I get is, "But you should be LOVING this time of life. It is a beautiful thing." Sure it might be an amazing thing to create life, although it seems every bogan can do it without nary a worry, but you know, what it does to your body is not that beautiful.

There are so many things I was aware of happening, like the getting bigger and potential swollen ankles (not yet) and stretch marks (also, not yet), and nausea (some early on). But it is the millions of things that I didn't know about. Oh like, the stabbing pains from your ligaments around your uterus when they stretch. The constantly sore breasts. The weird changes in the look of your breasts, no, not the size - I have some funky colours going on down there. The unexplained inability to sleep, despite being exhausted at all times of the day. The funky changes in bowels, and references to discharge that I didn't think I would have to know about. But most of all, the most annoying thing is the stories that you get told by people about their birthing experiences. Horror movies have nothing on those tales.*

If someone has a blissful pregnancy experience, well, good for them. And if someone has an ordinary experience, well, it just sucks doesn't it? So really, I don't want someone telling me how I should feel. It is how it is, and hopefully, all will be good in the end.



*Although my favourite story was by a colleague who told me about how most of the labour was a bit boring, and late at night, so she dozed off until it got more important for her to be awake. She is my new role model.

Relatives: Can't live with 'em. Can't kill 'em.

Having been married before, I sort of knew what I was getting into when beginning to arrange this shindig called our wedding. I knew that there would be tantrums (mostly mine), apathy (mostly Subtle's) and family dramas.

In my former life, the family dramas were all played out by ex-husband's mother. In simple terms, she was a nutter. She had declared that I had to have the ex's sister as a bridesmaid. Then she declared that she wouldn't come if we got married in a Catholic church. The final clincher was a week out from the wedding, his sister claims that he sexually abused her when she was about three years old. He would have been five. Did I mention his sister was a nutter as well? A bona fide locked away type nutter. I should have known then that things were not well in that family. But I married into it. And then divorced from it.

This time I was prepared for smooth sailing. No obvious nutters in Subtle's family (well his sister is a little strange - but nothing compared to what I have deal with!) and other than a few financial issues, all seems good from our end as well. And then *my* family decided to go crazy.

I don't know how people in Hollywood who have fifteen marriages do it, mostly Vegas-style with only them and Elvis I suppose, but there is something weird about re-inviting people to your second wedding. Something a little bit deja vu about it all. So in an effort to not "feel weird" and to also keep down numbers, we have opted for (a) a fairly informal wedding reception, canapes, drinks and cake, (b) a registry office service and (c) a small(ish) gathering of friends and family (note the order of importance there!). So that said, of my large extended family, I invited only three aunts, one uncle and two cousins. And this is where it all fell apart.

Apparently, one aunt and uncle were offended that I didn't invite their son and his wife. They were so offended that they rang my parents and hurled all manner of disappointment and bad manners their way. They claimed that I did it maliciously and clearly don't like them, their son, his wife and made intimations about what it might mean for the future of the family.

FOR FUCK'S SAKE!

I thought I was saving them the bother of more presents for their errant relation (me!) who clearly couldn't make good on the first marriage. I also thought, well, I don't see them much, and hell, Subtle isn't inviting ANY of his cousins, so I don't need to really get them all coming. But you know, apparently not. So, in the spirit of trying to preserve the relationship my parent's had with one of their closest relations, I invited the son and daughter-in-law. God knows if any of them will now come. And really, it makes one not really care if they do or not. They weren't upset about not coming because they had wanted to celebrate our day with us - they were upset because they perceived that it was meant as some slight on their family!

So now I am left wondering, will Subtle wonder what he has married into after the behaviour of my kooky family?

I am fine.

So howdy peoples... how have you been? You are looking lovely. Things in my little part of the world are going just find and dandy. Thanks for asking. No. Really. They are fine.

I sent a text message to a friend for their birthday (this is how truly lazy we have become - a text message is about the effort that we can pull out for a friend - 25 cents worth according to my last phone bill).... anyway..... and they responded with a thanks, and some concern over the tone of my last couple of blog entries. Hmmmm. I was actually feeling pretty good, comparatively, and yet I still elicit concern.

But no matter. All is good. Contact with fuckwit, ahem, I mean Bond, no hold on, I mean fuckwit, has been minimal. Shocked and amazed I am sure many of you are. But true story, minimal. Maybe five sms's a week - at most - and certainly no phone calls. A far cry from 20 a day and the rest. So yay for me I say. On occasion I still think of him with some fondness, and then I remember about the crap that he has said and amazingly, I can push thoughts of him aside again for a while.

I have met a reader recently - Mr Subtle. This is the third reader I have met through this blog (Occ and Kiki precede him), and it is always amazing meeting people who know so much about your life by what I have chosen to share on here. When people can quote back to you things that you have written, for example, asking what I should be called after my entry all about my name - it gets sort of surreal. A delightful evening ensued where I gave him shit and he teased and berated me. Although the clincher of the evening for me, was when discussing Bond, Mr Subtle declared, "I am amazed that you are still so sane". It seems he has been reading this little blog for about two years. He is now to be considered my friendly neighbourhood stalker!

Recently I spent an evening with some women at what is colloquially called "Stitch and Bitch". As has become a habit, one which I am determined to break, these women gather round and dig for details of my current sad dating life. They chortle at my expense, and muse over the state of modern dating dilemmas. All too readily have I offered stories of incompetent dating agencies, ludicrous men and quirky happenings. Once again after relating a story on the (seeming) hopelessness of my dating life, one lovely woman turned to me, and gently patted my hand. She sighed and said, "Well, maybe there just isn't anyone for you." Through gritted teeth I responded,, "I'd like to think that there is."

Now how good am I? I honestly felt like saying "WHAT THE FUCK???????". But, no, I remained calm and contemplative. And vowed from then on that maybe I wouldn't tell stories anymore. To her anyway. You lovelies get all my stories.

Oh, and there is a cute ranga in my Russian class. Woof!