1. Blue Ivy* 2. Apple** 3. Mitt Romney 4. Kunta Kinte 5. Beezow Doo-Doo Zopittybop-Bop-Bop6. She-Ra7. Siri8. Suri9. Slurry10. Boobs McGillicutty*** Stay tuned for the next installment: Things I Might Be Naming My Baby Daughter (just kidding, mom). *See also: Red Ivy, Orange Ivy, Yellow Ivy, Green Ivy, Indigo Ivy **See also: Orange, Banana, Grape, … Continue reading Things I Will Not Be Naming My Baby Daughter
It’s embarrassing to write about your boobs. It’s even more embarrassing to have a sports bra that looks like a girdle. But the fact is, other people are staring at them, and commenting on them, and have been, since I was one of the first girls to develop, back in sixth grade –- so after a while, I might as well be the one telling the story.
Yesterday, I woke up with a feeling. A feeling that this was going to be rough day.
People keep saying, "Once your daughter is born, you'll finally know true love." This pisses me off. I know true love -- I know it well.
You know how pop culture tells you pregnancy is a 9-month-long affair? Pop culture is full of shit.
"I Never," as you may know, is a game that high school and college students play, daring each other to share their sexual exploits. "I never made out with another girl," a coquettish undergrad might say seductively, and then all the girls who've had token lesbian experiences take a shot of whatever's on tap: Malibu Rum, say, or Peach Schnapps. Maybe a wine cooler. Well, today, I'm introducing a new kind of "I Never" -- the pregnancy edition. Prepare your glasses of Chardonnay.
Motherhood doesn't scare me. What scares me -- terrifies me, really -- is what motherhood will do to the rest of my life. Put simply: I don't want to be a douchebag.
I'm 6 months pregnant. Last week my feet and ankles swelled so much that my shoes didn't fit. I think it was because I'd been on my feet more than usual for our move. ...Oh yeah: we moved. To Fort Greene, Brooklyn. I'm loving the neighborhood, but the apartment... it's hard. It's an old building, and a weird set-up, but parts of it are so charming, and we have a cute little nursery, and great light, and trees out the windows, and a deck... parts of the apartment are undeniably run down, though, and I'm struggling to figure out how to make them nicer without breaking the bank. Pinterest helps. So does patience. I know I can't make it beautiful and "mine" overnight. But having a beautiful, comfortable home is more important to me than almost anything.
If Vanity Fair ever decides to interview me (and surely, my invitation is in the mail), I already know how I'd answer one of the questions in their Proust questionnaire: Question: "What quality do you most admire in a woman?" Answer: Agency. I admire women who make things happen for themselves. I admire kindness in a man (okay, so I know how I'd answer two questions), and agency in a woman. I wouldn't have answered this way ten years ago, but as I settle into my mid-thirties, I've observed that women whose character I admire most seem to have this quality in common.
Well, this is a blog post you only get to write once in a lifetime (probably...): I'm pregnant! With a baby. Estimated due date: May 7, 2012, just a few days into my 36th year. I never thought I'd have a baby. Really. I'm married to the love of my life, who I was lucky enough to meet in high school. We've been together since 1994. And until 2011, we did not think a baby was what we wanted. And then it was.