I Am a Watched Pot

“WHERE IS BABY?”

This is the text I get, several times a day now, from all over the country. Sometimes it pops up on a Facebook window. Sometimes it’s just a subject line of an empty email.

“WHERE IS BABY?”

As if I’ve hidden the child somewhere, confused Christmas for Easter and hidden this ripened egg under a rock in a field. Like I’m lying to them all and I’m waiting until Baby’s First Tooth before I spill any details.

My own mother asked today with sadness, “Will you tell me when you’re going to the hospital? … or do I just find out after the baby’s here?”

I know they are all asking out of love and excitement. It just cracks me up that it has been reduced to–

“WHERE IS BABY?”

Baby is still incubating, heavy enough now that my stomach rests on my legs when I’m sitting, making me feel like an exhausted bus driver.

Did you know you can have contractions for days and days and days that mimic labor but don’t turn into labor? Not these cute Braxton-Hicks things you hear about sometime, little “practice contractions” that can pop up at any point during your pregnancy. These are minute-long, full-on cramping, every ten minutes contractions that just stick around for ten or twelve hours until you finally fall asleep? Then they wake you up every few hours when a particularly strong one happens, and then the next day you just have them all day again? All the while your friends are texting–

“WHERE IS BABY?”

And you know exactly where Baby is, because your body has been trying to push the baby out since Thanksgiving.

This is just one of the things on my very long list titled: Things People Don’t Tell You About Being Pregnant Until You’re Pregnant, Which Is Just Way Too Fucking Late, If You Ask Me. Read more

Some Things About Myself That I Need To Work On

* When I’m in a public restroom and a lady comes out of the stall, I really want to stop saying “Thank you” to her when I pass her on my way in. And I mean, I really thank her in a genuine way, every time. There is no need for this thank you. It’s not like I was about to pee my pants. If anything, all it does is draw attention to the fact that I’m about to use the toilet she just finished using. I will be in her “pee space,” as the mother of an ex-boyfriend of mine used to say when she’d scold him for using the bathroom before I did.

That has also stayed in my head forever, so I will now share it with you. She said when boys pee they stand in front of the toilet, and there’s a “stream of pee space” that is created that is exactly where my head goes when I sit down to pee right after him.

* I need to work on not being so obsessed with the pee space. Read more

Possibly the Only Perk About Not Being Allowed to Play Roller Derby.

[scripty]
PAMIE
A quick impression of the lady who just gave me a pedicure. She was like, “OH.” Held up my foot. “OH. THIS. OH. YOU NEED. OH. YOU WANT. OH. CALLUS. OH, CALLUS. I CUT, YES?”

JASON
That poor woman.

PAMIE
I know. She put on latex gloves. Nobody else was wearing gloves. It was embarrassing. She thought I had some kind of foot condition.

JASON
Did you tell her how you got those feet?

PAMIE
I just went, “Yes, please. I know. I’m sorry. It’s… it’s from sports.” And then she went, “SPORTS. OH. OH, BOTH FEET. OH.”

JASON
And then strapped on those gloves.

PAMIE
Yes. But look! Cute feet!

JASON
Cute feet. Pam, I don’t even recognize those feet.

PAMIE
I know.

JASON
Those look like someone else’s feet. Whose feet are those?

PAMIE
They’re mine!

JASON
You know, I’ve never seen you with cute feet.

PAMIE
Yeah, I guess that’s true.

JASON
It is true. I’m used to “Feet that belong to a Ukranian man who’s been working in the trenches.”

PAMIE
OKAY, I GET IT.
[/scripty]

torn.

PAMIE: [Answering phone] Hello?

MOM: Do you have something you need to tell me?

PAMIE: … Um… uh… well, uh… do you want to maybe give me a hint or a topic? Because this seems like a trick.

MOM: Your knee.

PAMIE: Oh.

MOM: I do read your website, you know. I didn’t, but I do now. Again. And you’re right. I was watching that game going, “My baby’s hurt! Don’t show other people, show my baby!” But you got back up and skated again so I wasn’t worried.

PAMIE: That’s why I got up.

MOM: I know. But you were hurt. You were lying. Read more

on hospitals and aliens.

Dewey update: eighty donations to hospitals, detention centers, schools and library programs. It’s a rough time for fundraising, you guys. I know that I did this all quickly and on the sly, and you have all been fantastic at spreading the word, including some heavy twitter-hitters, but normally Dewey gets a few more books than this by now. Thank you so much for all the help. I’m going to wait until this afternoon before I put up another wishlist, because I think the C.A.U.S.E. program has received less than ten books.

[db]

Here’s a story I’ve been meaning to tell since Monday, when I listed the children’s hospitals. I mentioned that I’d had two mortifying experiences in children’s hospitals, the second-worst being the other week when I went to Monroe, Louisiana, on a red-eye in a leg brace to visit fourteen-year old Madeleine, who was suffering from a kidney infection. If you haven’t read Sarah’s account of it (Fancy new digs, Lady Bunting!), just know that it ended with four grown-ups and a teenager trapped in a hospital room as the specialist gave a ten-minute speech on how to clean and care for your vagina, with advice both helpful: Read more

Making a Spectacle of Myself

As I prep to write my story of this past weekend’s bout, I figured I’d stall with these two stories.

One: I got glasses. They’re only for reading, working, and driving at night, but that basically means they’re for every single second of my life. This is a big deal for me, as I used to pride myself on my 20/10 vision, claiming I could see through people, and now I’ve developed astigmatism. I only figured it out when I was goofing around putting someone else’s glasses on my head, only to go, “Oh, wow. All sorts of words just snapped into focus right in front of me.”

Anyway, for me this monumental. Glasses, on my face. Glasses that I carry around in a case. When did I want glasses? Back when I was like, seven. Not so much these days. It’s another thing to worry about. And I always think of Piggy and his assmar. Read more

Activating Dana

Shot during the first weekend of Eyesplosion ’09, I take a study break with Dana in an attempt to activate her. She was supposed to talk about how she “hates injustice.” But she never really got off the subject of me. At fourteen minutes in two parts, it’s an extra-long Activating. But in my defense, it was midnight, not at the office, and with wine…which is why I cut that part at the end where Dana broke into a freestyle rap about my ocular hemorrhage. You’re welcome.

Here’s part one, where we discuss my Blood Eye and how I appear to be quickly creating one hot-looking corpse.

Part two is all about fashion as Dana gives me a “compliment” that will continue to haunt me every time I go to my closet.

Hope you enjoy.

Activating Robin

Robin, she of the Abraham Lincoln sweatshirt, explains why she has some serious boundary issues. Pamie tries to get her to hug it out.

(Apologies for crappy webcam quality. Let’s pretend it’s 1999!)

(It sort of looks better if you click the video, let it take you to You Tube, and then click “High Quality.” I don’t know; I feel like that’s a scam.)

Activating Annie

This week: Annie got activated when we started talking about women who are obsessed with creating the perfect birth “experience.”

conversation with mom

[scripty]
Pamie
…And then I said, “Well, that sounds dangerous, so please don’t tell me about it until it’s over or I will worry about it from now until it’s over.”

Mom
That’s exactly what you should have said.

Pamie
Which is how I knew I’d officially turned into you. I no longer want to hear about dangerous things people are doing until they’re done doing them. I suddenly understand why the mom of the girl at the Olympics wouldn’t even watch her compete. Used to think it was selfish; now believe it’s completely sensible.

Mom
This is why I don’t want to know anything about roller derby.

Pamie
Which is why I didn’t tell you when I broke my tailbone.

Mom
You should still tell me when you break your tailbone.

Pamie
And lie about how I did it?

Mom
I need to know when you break something.

Pamie
So you can get mad? Or so you can stop worrying that I’ll break something and start worrying about how I’ve broken something?

Mom
Both.

Pamie
I am careful, Mom. I watch out for myself.

Mom
Uh-huh. I’m sure you do, but you live in a city full of crazy people.

Pamie
Myself included.

Mom
People are always dying out there. Murdered in the streets. Whenever I watch one of these television shows, the murders and death are always happening in Los Angeles. Dangerous city.

Pamie
Mom… that’s because they make those shows in Los Angeles. This is where they make television. If they made all the television shows in Chicago, you’d think Chicago was the most dangerous city in America.

Mom
No, there are other dangerous cities. CSI: Miami, CSI: New York…

Pamie
Mom, I work at CSI: New York.

Mom
Really?

Pamie: Yes. They shoot across the street from my office. We’re on the same lot. And I can’t believe I just called a city “CSI:” anything.

Mom
Would you say hi to Gary Sinise for me?

Pamie
No. He gives me the creeps.

Mom
Well, that’s crazy. He seems like a nice guy.

Pamie
Why doesn’t Gary Oldman make movies anymore?

Mom
Now, THAT’S a creepy guy.

Pamie
Yeah, but he was really good at it.

Mom
What were we saying?

Pamie
That I’m going to be careful when I’m walking through the streets of CSI: New York at night.

Mom
Good. I love you.

Pamie
I love you, too, Mommy.
[/scripty]