Snippets of Things to Say

I was hugging the curves around Bancroft Street today when I saw a playground to my right. In my mind's eye, a giant brown unicorn lounged in the yard. It was a tangled branch. Still, I wasn't disappointed.

At the wedding last weekend in Jerome, AZ, we all cuddled inside the garden. We talked about large things like love and eternity. The fountain was too loud sometimes, I couldn't hear the words that slipped from our lips, but I knew them anyway. We were all trying to find forever here. We believe.

In our little flat above the Flat Iron Cafe, you and me, we could see the red and pink cliffs in the distance. How cute are these stores in Jerome, lined up like brightly colored antiques? We fumble up the town's stairs hand in hand. I feel so petite and pretty and protected by you...seven months pregnant...your little lady...I feel safe...and slightly owned by you. How primal are we...

Cupid-sized boxes keep arriving in the mail for our little one. Yesterday, I opened a board book and got teary-eyed. "This is for our son," I thought, as the image of him poured into my heart. I ached for his presence just then. These not-yet memories thrill me.

My brother is filling his space here. I am pleasantly pleasant. I've missed him. The cakes he's making help. Like a lot.

You Get the Picture...

Time is moving hand over fist now. Yesterday, I bought this birth help CD's to help me with my no-drugs birth. I am going au natural not because I am against drugs, but more for the fact that I'm a control freak. I want to feel it so I know when to push. I figure the less intervention, the more quickly this labor thing will go. I'm flexible, but I'm preparing for labor diligently to avoid drugs and interventions as much as possible.

The approach I will be using is called "hypnobabies." It is more about self-hynosis and relaxation techniques so that fear does not take over. It uses visualization and deep relaxation techniques that still allows you to be completely aware and in the moment, but supposedly reduces the pain of labor. The birth stories are actually quite amazing. It's a lot of work though in the next few weeks, and my lovely husband also has to do some work so he can help me. He is totally willing. I love that about him.

I keep having these vivid dreams. The other day I had one where I gave birth to our baby boy, but he just fell out of my vagina. I wasn't at the hospital and I was way early. He was bloody and purple and I had the umbilical cord still attached to me and attached to him as I ran around trying to find someone to help me cut the cord. I remember thinking he'd be ok, but the terror of the whole thing made me choke.

I'm pregnant enough now where people give up their seats for me and young kids at the grocery store want to lift my bags. However, I'm also pregnant enough where my damn feet hurt and I really do need it. Laugh out loud.

I'm am almost 30 weeks now, but here's a couple 27 week photo (six months incubated)...

Here's clothed and looking much more pregnant...

These are the days of our lives...

The little dude in my belly is all over the place. How big could he possibly be? I feel him from my ribs to my pelvis. He rolls and kicks. The intimacy of it is such an internal joy. Such a complete satisfaction.

Having him growing up in my insides makes me feel so grown-up. Not on an intellectual level--I'm not just saying things. I mean I really feel different.  Like I am on the cusp of a new identity. I'll never come back from it. I know this. I welcome this. I fear this.

I had a beautiful day today, unpacking boxes and shuffling the office around. The presence of my brother helps quell the loneliness. It takes the edge off my desperation. Normally, when Dave gets home I'm like an abandoned puppy. I can't even stop myself from chewing on his leg. So I am grateful that conversation with other humans has calmed me thus far. I imagine Dave is grateful too although he's so damn sweet he'd never admit he noticed my child-like attention needs.

It also makes my pregnancy more real, to actually be around people who can see that yes, it's true, I'm actually pregnant. I don't have to status-update on Facebook to remind you. You see it every day. That's another reason I loved my sister's visit. That's a reason I enjoyed my Phoenix visit. And that's the reason I'll enjoy that barbeque tomorrow. When it's more real in the world, it feels more real to me.

I finally found the cord to my camera in one of the boxes I unpacked. I have much to show you!

Dependence Day

It's been gloomy here in San Diego the last few days. I wonder where the sun is. Doesn't this city know that it's summer? 

I worry about the changes in my life. I have moments where I feel out of control. Last night I started crying for every reason in the world and none at all.

With my brother moved in, we are making room for him. Not just in the house. We are adjusting our hearts, our time, our space. I've been spoiled with Dave; we've carved out a world for us.  But that's the thing about that: it just doesn't work for everybody. I can't get my way all the time.  I think it's good my brother challenges me.  He won't let me pick out the violet bath towels for the bathroom. I huff and puff. I let go. We settled on cerulean blue.

I'm not sure if he's happy about our compromise. He's been in his room all day. I think I might tap on his door. No. I think I'll let it go.

He bought a stand mixer last night at Macy's. You know, one of those fancy ones that make you want to bake cakes? Today, he ordered three vanilla beans online. He's plans to make a red velvet cake, thick with cream cheese. I anticipate this cake with pregnant furry. I too look to that machine excitedly. I have vanilla buttercream dreams.

I made a flag cake for fourth of July. My first cake from scratch EVER. The cake reminded me of my Grandma, who used to make them at the lake cabin on Lake Melissa in Minnesota every Independence Day. She just turned 90 years old. I wonder how proud she'd be of my flag cake, inspired by those sparkler and bonfire nights by the lake? Where the fireflies flit around the lampposts and the sounds of our young squeals echo as we sprint down the wooden dock in that long ago past.

The Unexpected

I realized the other day how much I need this. How Much I Need this written word diary. This cry into cyberspace. I realized that I can't talk right.

What I say typically has nothing to do with how I feel.

But This. This cry into binary code delivers me somehow. I need you blog. I'm sorry I doubted you.

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My sister and my niece surprised me this weekend. I didn't know they were going to visit. They flew across the country to see me. When I saw them I cried. And my weekend become wonderful. Already wonderful though. My brother snug in his corner bedroom. His presence here and permeating already.

My sister and I fought though. Like cry so hard you want to throw up hard. I even threw a Sprite can at the wall. It exploded and fizzed unto the walls. I have never done that before. Sure, I have lost my temper, but never punched or thrown things.

I come by it honestly perhaps. After we made up (that's too simple of a sentence), my brother sis and I named off all the objects that had been thrown by each member of the family, including my mother. I now, the self-proclaimed non-thrower, now I join the club. I have to admit, it was the perfect expression of how I felt at the moment. I am somewhat ashamed by how good it felt.

I would tell you about it, but it wearies me, and plus my sister reads this. Rest assured though, we all think we're right and justified and that knowledge only flusters us so.

Why though, at 31, are we still fighting? What is it about the sibling relationship that challenges us so? 

365 degrees, Going Once

Sometimes when I don't write for awhile, I find it even harder to write. Because time has passed and things have happened and my mind is filled with things to say and details to fill you in on. I think about breaking them down into bullet points i.e.

* Moved into new house
* We love it.
* The cats love it.
* Went on a trip to AZ
* It was fun.
* I'm like six months pregnant.
* I'm huge.
* I still feel kinda hot though.
* Brother moves in with us in about a week.
* I'm excited and kinda scared too.
* I love change.
* I hate change.

But I thought I disliked diary posts, even though that's what we're all really here for. And sometimes I think if you just detail your life, people find that more interesting than being all creative and write-y.

I don't think I'm leaving here. This blog. But I do find myself wondering what I'm doing here. What am I trying to accomplish. If anything. Maybe I am leaving. Let me think.

I recently passed my year-o-blogging mark, my 365 degrees, and I don't think I'm doing what I came here to do. I mean, I did do it. But I am looking for something else. I have a different idea of what to do. And I'm wondering if I should just leave this here. And move on to my other thing. It's blogging. But it's not blogging like this. It's more like career blogging. Which seems more practical. More useful. And a pet project of mine. I don't see the use in this anymore. Is this like a blogging crisis or something...idk. I've learned a lot here though. We'll see...

I'm not ready to leave this yet, but I needed to tell it how I felt.

The Late Late Show

I'm writing this now as Dave sleeps, the washer machine whirs, the cats look on questioningly, and the twinkle lights in the tree are the only muted yellow light in the living room. I'm not sure why I'm here now. I guess I can't sleep.

I'm thinking about San Diego. It's been a year now. A year here and not there. In Phoenix. It's been only a year and I know already that I won't ever be moving back there. Although I miss odd things like crazy...our fave pizza place, the ceiling of our old apartment, the summer heat like an oven, the azure blue pools, the clean uncracked streets, the proximity of my father.

But you know when you just know right? You just know...
And we already know. Why? No idea. Do you believe in fate? Destiny? Pre-destination? A guiding light, hand, power, force, god perhaps? I do.

I didn't have a very religious upbringing (thank god ;-)), but I do believe in God. For lack of a better word. That relationship I have with that mystery force is Real to me. Comforting. I shovel prayer into it so we get closer. I Believe. In Love. In Goodness. In Grace. In Truth.

But sometimes after the Small Things lull me, like putting my hands together before sleeping, I contemplate the Big Things...like 'What's it all about? Where are we going?' And while I feel like I know it's going to be o.k...I have to say that, The Truth Is, on the specifics...

i don't know  
you don't know  
we don't know.

Hey There Change-y Pants

I love moving because it feels like you're moving...

You know, like life itself is propelling forward; the very substance of your surroundings morphs. Things are changing. Change is tangible.

I love change, maybe that's why I'd label myself a progressive. I always think things could be better. Even if they're good now, why not strive for Totally Awesome? Conservatism seems to hinge on the very notion that, hey everything's ok, leave it alone you big changer change-y pants. Why you always gotta reach for the sky, can't you be happy with What Is?

Why? Because most of the time, What Is is pretty good, but there's a few tweaks that will prolly make it better. And I Believe. We Should. Make It Better. Always.

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My brother is moving here to San Diego, did I tell you that? In a matter of weeks, my younger brother, who now resides in Minnesota with our mother, will be setting up shop in our hilly town, living in a nice corner room in our house for an indeterminent amount of time. I can't tell you how ecstatic that makes me.

I feel so removed. I feel so cut off, limbs like arms beyond my reach. I miss my family. I miss the life that will never be: me baby-sitting my niece on warm Saturday afternoons--her arms reaching for me as I enter through doors. The me that would pick out paint colors for the nursery with my mother. The me that would help my sis with summer garage sales. I mourn for all that.

But one memory I won't cry for now is the me that sees my son reach out for his uncle on any given Wednesday. The me that drinks cold beers with my brother at the table on a Saturday night, while he whips me at another game of cards. The me that knows I'm not completely alone here.

I think that my brother will stay a very long time here in this cool coastal town. And I think we will too. That makes me happy. These roots extend like arms around our hearts.

Little Paper Hearts

I am so avoiding what I have to do right now. I need to be knee-deep in my closet, curled up on the floor, going through boxes I haven't gone through in a year. I need to look at every little picture and note in them and say, "oh how cute, i remember that." And then I need to re-pack it again. Box it up. Move it to the next place. And then, not look at it at all until the next time we move. These little sentiments are so important right?

Sometimes I imagine my children going through my memory boxes of poems and old love letters, little torn and faded envelopes of a past life lived. A life that they will never know of me. A me that they will never see. I imagine them being surprised, maybe even a little guilty for not knowing these little parts of a person they will come to know as mom, Mom, MOMMM!!!!

Then I think of my own mother and her lives she lived before us. Who was she really? I imagine her laughing, beautiful as ever, gliding across stages in her dance leotards. I imagine men loved her and I imagine she enjoyed their attention without effort, being adored came natural to her. But this is the mother I've imagined. In truth, I will never know her as the her before me. What dreams will my children conjure up?

Then, I imagine I've died abruptly and Dave has to sift through my old memories. I'm embarrassed with this. I start to throw away things that cheapen my love for him, like when I claimed to love others before him. What did I know of love then, before I married you my love? I burn these adolescent poems. I imagine as we gather up homes against the backdrop of our new family, with each move, I'll throw away more and more of these cheap little paper hearts. Leaving room only for my one true beating, breathing heart....You.

Moving Blahs and Hurrahs

So we are moving in about two weeks. We rented a house nearby the we love love love. It took us atleast three months to find this house rental. Who knew that the house rental market in San Diego was so fierce? We lost a few houses due to not applying within days of its posting. So we learned to be vigilante. I would be seeing houses within hours of them posting. Other applicants be damned.

Once we found houses to view based on budget range and location, I choose a house based almost solely on intuition. I wait for my insides to go, "Yes, yes, YES...THIS IS IT!  It could be perfect in every way, but if my bells don't go off, I don't move.

Also, Dave and I agreed as a couple that we won't ever try to "convince" the other person to like a house. There were a few I really liked, but Dave wasn't that smitten. The same thing happened vice verse: Dave liked a house or two and I just wasn't feeling it. Conversation over. Next. Until both of us were in agreement (without any nudging on the others part at all), that's when we sign papers. We looked at over 20 houses before deciding on this one. We find that we get the best results when we do that.

In the end though, even with our "system," it's still all a gamble isn't it? Will we like it? Love it? We will be here for at least three years before we start thinking of buying...did we make the right choice? I think so...

Needless to say though, right now I am so excited about it. We've been in San Diego for one full year now, and I can't say that the apartment we live in I'm head-over-heels for. We found this place quickly; we weren't able to use our "system" because of time constraints. And I must say, I've missed our adorable apartment in Phoenix more than once. I am thinking/hoping that this will make us feel more at home here. Better get packing!

Team Blue

IT'S A BOY!!!!  (Did I mention how I knew that? I like sooooo knew that...) 
P.S. My mother, the witch, changed her vote prior to the ultrasound. She knew. Of course she knew. Or. She changed the course of history... that's soooo par for the course.

(My mother used to tell us that our real mother was in a flower pot. On the porch. You see? There's proof--she's even admitted her witchy ways!!!)

Anyway, back to our little boy. My son. My son whose in my belly. He's so real to me now all of the sudden. I visualize him and make dreams for him. I talk to him more. I rub my belly and try to soothe him. I played him Jack Johnson yesterday while I did the dishes. I picked the tunes especially for him--he feels like a kid who might like Jack Johnson.

I feel him now. I mean, literally. He does backflips in there. It is THE coolest thing EVER to feel him bump around in there.

I'm so excited to know now for sure that he's a little boy. These types of things define your family. Now, I know, my first born is a boy. That creates a certain type of dynamic in a family. It shapes things. Futures.

I don't get those peeps that decide not to find out. Like I SERIOUSLY can't wrap my mind around it. They're like, "It will be a surprise." But, I mean, isn't it a surprise when you hear? Whenever you hear it?  I started crying when the ultrasound tech told us. Dave's smile was a smile I have never seen him wear before--the joy of knowing what your family will look like. The knowledge. It was a beautiful, beautiful moment. And then, when we told everyone, the reactions were filled to the brim with excitement.

There's so many uncontrollables/unknowables in labor, in new parenthood. Such as, how will labor feel? Will the baby be healthy? Holy shit, I'm gunna be a mom? How long does labor take? Will I be able to breastfeed right away? How will my partner react? How will our relationship change once the baby is here? My body? My boobs? Omg, What the f**k am I gunna do with a KID?!

The ONE thing you can control, is knowing what gender you might have. You can figure out what color to paint the nursery. You can register for cute clothes and blankets. You can pick a name. You can talk to your baby, BY their name, therefore bonding with them. Knowing the sex takes away one question mark in the big question mark of parenthood.

I've also heard the whole "I'm old-fashioned" argument. Pshh, Lame. Back in the day, they HAD to wait till birth to find out the gender. Reminder: They also didn't have cell phones or toilets Back In The Day. Do you want to pee in a pot too? I didn't think so...

I run into these girls everywhere though, that don't want to know. I nod and smile politely as they explain weakly, "We want it to be a surprise." Ugh, it will. I promise you, whenever you find out, it will be a surprise. There's no reason to wait until labor. Seriously, no GOOD reason to wait until labor. It seems like very unnecessary anticipation. Isn't the miracle of birth exciting enough? You don't get a cookie or a prize for "holding out," ladies.

And I know there's plenty girls reading this who are probably reeling now in defense. They themselves chose the "wait till birth" route as their co-workers and friends and families rallied around them for almost an entire year, with their old wive's tales and their bets and their guesses (which, um, could have been solved with a simple 'yea or nay' from the ultrasound tech).

Others reading this are reeling in defense of their loved ones who have made this decision. And so I semi-apologize for my outspoken passions. Maybe if someone could show me/tell me any other GOOD reason that might make a lick of sense to me. Then, I'll gladly change my tune. Until then, in my head, I'll be shaking my head.

But of course, to each his own...I do still love my girls who have done this (of course I have friends and family who have chosen this, don't we all? Sigh). But while I still love you, I just don't love your behavior ;-)

Here's my 20 week shot. Halfway done!!! As a disclaimer: I do take these shots in the a.m. before any food or anything, so that I show myself in the best light. I also stand nice and tall and fix the lighting in iPhoto. So for all those "I sorta hate you" notes I got on my last post, I want to assure you that if they were taken at night, it would look atleast twice as big as this. I'm just too vain to show you all that...

Today is the day before the day that...

we find out about our little baby--BOY or GIRL? I am just itching with anticipation. So much so, that I want to eat my arm. I want to just tear the flesh clear off with my teeth. Stare at the wall while I chew the rubber and fuggetaboutit.

Oh my gosh that's gross.

I am writing this because I want records. Records that, I, Darcy K---, believe it's a boy. I want to be right about this because I think I have just sick intuition that typically just knows all sorts of fun/interesting/sad things. So--if I'm wrong--my world will probably crumble, cave in on itself. For those of you who know (love?) me, I ain't so good at being wrong. Not my strong suit. So pray for me, that for me, I might be right, so I don't have to reevaluate my entire life. (PLUS, Dave and I super-dig our boy name.)

Let also, the record stand, that my mom and sis kinda swear it's a girl. And that's the only thing that bugs me about this entire thing, because they are like witches or something and have voodoo intuition powers of their own that probably change the course of history to their liking. Or at least to mess with my worldview. Just to mess with my worldview. Because they have a sick sense of humor. Which I tend to like, ok delight in, 'cept when I happen to be the receivee.

To close, I have some pics of 18 week belly. I am now 19 1/2 tho, and since this pic, have "popped," which really means my entire wardrobe is f**king useless. Soon, I'll be 20 weeks, my baby will be half-done, 1/2 ready to meet the world, and you'll see--pregnancy is upon me. For now, here's the last "honeymoon" preggo pic.

San Francisco Snippets

What to say? You are beloved, frenzied, urban, and hip. You make me marvel at humans (look what we've done)...

Your downtown teems with the homeless, the toothless, the piles of stacked concrete and glass, the saturated color, the clipped wind, and the loud sharp ring of those quinnessential cable cars. I was sometimes scared; I was alive in my bones.

We trekked all over that city, holding hands. I loved being with you, having your full attention, your whole being. It was the most fun I've had since our honeymoon--exactly one year ago. We are the best travelers together. (together. we're better. always).

Until the next time, here's some pics from my Pentax Kx DSLR...she loved San Fran as much as we did....

 

  

                  

On this paper heart i pledge...

Dave and I are headed out tomorrow to San Francisco for an extended weekend. It's been one year since we tied the knot. One year since we committed, in advance, to a lifetime together. Of all the eight years we've been together, this year, in my heart, has been the easiest. Not that it was ever hard to love Dave. No, it's always felt like coming home. And yes, the first couple years, we had bumps, growing pains, as we merged. But then the months smoothed into years and I was yours--turned inside-out by our love--and truly, hasn't it always been easy? But this year, yes, has been the best...

I've always been practical I guess, guarding my heart from disaster. Even as our lives braided around each other, a tight knot of friends and family and love. I still kept myself safe. I didn't even realize it--the epiphany coming like a slow dawn this whole year. But I know now: I let go up there on that beautiful day on that beautiful lake. That day. April 18th, 2009. Something shifted in the heart when I said, "I promise to love you forever and ever." The formality of it--the food, the dance, the dress--that was just a bonus. Mostly, I remember pledging myself to you. To us. I'm all in, baby. I'm all in. A complete fall. That commitment has freed me to feel the most profound connection to you. The effect: like a giant ripple, deepening my love for everything.

This love

Cracks my heart open

and pours out my pores.

This love gathers

youmeyoumeyoume

and expands.

Dear heart,

I love that you

ignore the boundaries of the body.

Don't come back.

I'm not afraid. to let you.

Be.

Operation Self-Discipline

So Dave and I are experimenting a bit with our lives. He's working his ass off. And due to the results of his hard work, we were able to free me from my bullshit pursuits (i.e. jobs that get me no nearer my dreams). It's been two months. Let me tell you about it...

I am bird. Taking my creativity into my palms, making it mine day in and day out. Yet. When your days are yours and yours alone, you can't just bask in the sun. You'll rot inside. And so. I've launched Operation Self-Discipline. Some days I win. Some days I fail.

My New Work Life

1) So, each day, I must write. Not blog. Write. For at least one hour.

I am working on a collection of twelve short stories. Fiction. I have almost two done. I think the first one sucks. I am in love with the second. Each day makes me more hopeful. Stronger.

I also take time each day to study writing. I read short stories, break down their structure, highlight and underline. I also read writing advice books--internalizing what sounds right.

2) I am putting paintings up on Etsy. I sold two paintings, just posted a third, almost done with the fourth. When I post it, I'll post pics. That's a promise. I just want my store to be more full when I unveil.

Each day I must also put time into my art. At least an hour. I swear, when my music is on and I have that brush in my hand, I'm so at peace--so in love with the world.

I try to study art daily too. Read the manual for my new DSLR camera. Ugh. So dry.

3) Healthy eating and exercise. See-saw on the healthy eating, but much better than a year ago. I also attend prenatal pilates twice a week. Prenatal yoga hopefully starts next week.

4) Volunteering. I volunteer at least once a week with Voice for Children. I work with a girl in foster care. I "help" her by simply being there. This whole paragraph seems gratutious. But truly, it's important to me to do something NOT for me.

And there it is.

I feel so blessed to have this opportunity to focus on writing and art (let alone health and altruism). It is the actualization of a lifelong dream. The process itself fills me to the brim with gratitude. I believe that dreams are possible. I believe that if you put in the time, you can manifest your goals. I thank God that I have a husband that believes the same thing. And that he believes in me.

On the downside, I'm hella lonely! Not only do we still lack a thick social network here in San Diego, but without work, I'm by myself ALL THE TIME! Due to my preggo situation, I can't even comfort myself with booze.

And so, it's Friday night--I turn to you!