So come on out whenever you're ready cause your due date has come and gone, and I can't wait to hold you in my arms.
Love,
Mom
P.S. If you ever wonder if your dad loves you- know this: he read the instructions. For you, the knowing-it-all-est man alive followed all the directions in the manual for putting together your things to make absolutely certain he put everything together just right to protect your tiny toes and fingers. That's looooove.
Almost none of my paintings have proper names, so I end up referring to them by the subject followed by the medium, but this one has a name
(because Peter named it):
The Creepy TreeI don't really think it's that creepy though. I suppose if I'd used a different color scheme it would have conveyed an entirely different sentiment while still expressing a complicated/solitary subject.
------------------------Post Edit/ more hormone induced crankiness------------------
If a pregnant woman tells you what she has decided will definitely be her child's name, please, for the love of all that is rolly, DON"T proceed to tell her about everyone you know with the same name, what you think of all those name-sharing folks, every possible nickname and how you think it should be spelled. Sure, outwardly the pregnant woman might smile and nod and say "how interesting" but inside she is a bear and you are a hiker with a backpack full of granola and honey.
I recently googled "What I wish someone had told me before I went into labor" hoping to find some nugget of knowledge that would help me in some way. Unfortunately, all I found was trivia that, well, lets face it, the moms who'd written really SHOULD have already known. Come on, people- you have 9 months to read up on this stuff!
Something I would like to share with the general pregnant population is this:
Turn off your cell phone,
because, in your last week your phone will look like this:and every message/ call will be the exact same, and you will want to, but not be able to, say the exact same things over and over and over:
Hiiii! Have you had the baby yet?
Nope, not yet
How are you feeling?
Awesome, thanks!(aside from the excruciating back pain, swollen feet, nausea, headaches and insomnia)
What did your doctor say?
She'll be born when she's ready.(Actually, that's a summation of a twenty minute conversation about my cervix).
Anything I can do to help out?
Nope, we're completely ready, when she is. (But feel free to come over and cook dinner without judging me for wearing the hideous pineapple print housedress I bought in the caribbean for about the millionth day in a row.)
Well, make sure you call me when you go into labor!
Absolutely! (Because I definitely want to be annoyed when I'm trying to have a baby).
So, really, the bottom line is, turn off your cell phone during the last week of pregnancy. You'll avoid a whole bunch of aggravation, and you won't feel compelled to return the gazillion missed calls/ messages because really, the people who call during that last week can be split into two groups: and those who really need to talk to you will find other ways that doesn't involve driving you crazy.
I don't know if this is how it is for everyone, but Pregnancy week #40 finds me exhausted, in pain, swollen from head to toes, and just generally super duper cranky. Why do so many people want to chat with such a miserable creature?
This past weekend I went with The Ackerkids to see 127 Hours- the true story about Aron Ralston, the hiker who had to cut off his arm to save his life.
I have to admit to liking it much more than I thought I would.
To me, it served as reminder of the strength of the human spirit.
We are capable of so much more than we give ourselves credit for.
What's more amazing to me, than his acurrately assessing the situation as do (cut off his arm) or die and taking the extreme measures he did, was his life after the accident.
You should go see the movie to see what I mean, but trust,
A lot of times when I see a movie and it has cussing in it, I think "Was that really neccessary?" Because a lot of movies could be enjoyed by younger audiences if only the language weren't so vulgar. But after watching 127 Hours I can't help but think that if it were the true story of La Sha Ackerman being stuck under a rock for almost a week that it would have waaaay more expletives. Seriously, you'd only be able to show it in movie theaters in Las Vegas after 11:00.
Last year I was living in NYC and went to work in a foot of snow.
This year I'm living in Georgia and four measly inches of the white stuff has had everyone snowed in.
Even if you have the gumption to crank up your four wheel drive and get out on the completely unplowed and unsalted roads, there is nowhere to go because everything is closed.
It has been awesome having a few days to enjoy just spending time with my husband and indulging the increasingly overwhelming nesting instinct.
Never before have I felt the need to use every single attachment that came with my vacuum cleaner; but suddenly I find it imperative that all intake and outtake vents in the house be vacuumed thoroughly, all ceiling corners be inspected and deemed spider web-less, and you know that super skinny attachment?
You can use it to get all the dust out from the area UNDER the television.
I know Dr A., lover of glass topped desks and 90 degree angles, is certainly enjoying this new trend, even if it does mean being asked to heft heavy things all over the house.
On the flip side, though, being trapped in the house for four days straight with an extremely pregnant lady exposes him to all sorts of things he'd probably be able to avoid if only he were at work.
For example I can't hide my narcolepsy from him if he's going to be home all day.
Since I only get about 3 hours of sleep during the night these days due to constantly being woken up by the extreme urge to pee combined with a routine of 4 am nausea and just a general running wild of the mind when everything is still and quiet, I find taking a hundred little naps during the day essential to normal functioning.
(Don't ask me how I get through work days. It generally involves a lot of tongue-biting and by the end of the day an inability to see straight).
Lately my routine has become sort of...
Wake up, eat breakfast, nap, take a shower, nap, check e-mails and Etsy sales, nap, wash laundry, nap, start folding the newly cleaned laundry but then fall asleep on the couch sitting up with the tv on because the clothes are warm and smell good and unintentionally spend the rest of the day there, until someone calls or rings the door bell or until a tiny uterus dwelling creature decides its time to give the old bladder a kick.
Also, since we've both been home... together... all day... for days now, when normally neither of us would be here, our house has taken up a new motto. Actually I guess it's more of a mantra, since it's less of a credo and just something that has become a repeated statement within our household micro-society:
"I was going to eat that!"
Whether it's the lone orange straggling in the produce drawer or the bottom of a jar of mayo- nothing is exempt as a cause to exert the decree of an intention of being consumed by one or (usually) both parties.
For You formed my inward parts; You wove me in my mother's womb. I will give thanks to You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made; Wonderful are Your works, And my soul knows it very well. My frame was not hidden from You, When I was made in secret, And skillfully wrought in the depths of the earth; Your eyes have seen my unformed substance; And in Your book were all written The days that were ordained for me, When as yet there was not one of them.
~ Psalm 139:13-16
Often times the painting takes turns and twists along the road to completion and becomes something different than I had intended, but paint never touches brush until it has a destination.
As the day that I'll get to meet my daughter draws nearer and nearer I can close my eyes and imagine what she'll look like- this ultimate creation of my life- and speculate on what personality traits she may inherit, but ultimately, her finished and framed life is as much a mystery to me as it will be to her. The best I can hope for is to nurture the joy that revealing the mysteries can bring. From the day she discovers her tiny little toes to the day she discovers her true love and beyond; what she uses this pre-ordained canvas for will be incredibly, and uniquely, her own to reveal.
Ancient Irish hymn, possibly from the 8th Century, tr. by Mary E. Byrne
Be Thou my vision, O Lord of my heart;
Naught be all else to me, save that Thou art.
Thou my best thought, by day or by night,
Waking or sleeping, Thy presence my light.
2. Be Thou my Wisdom, Thou my true Word;
I ever with Thee, Thou with me, Lord;
Thou my great Father, I thy true son;
Thou in me dwelling, and I with Thee one.
3. Be Thou my battle-shield, sword for my fight,
Be Thou my dignity, Thou my delight.
Thou my soul's shelter, Thou my high tower.
Raise Thou me heavenward, O Power of my power.
4. Riches I heed not, nor man's empty praise,
Thou mine inheritance, now and always:
Thou and Thou only, first in my heart,
High King of heaven, my Treasure Thou art.
5. High King of heaven, my victory won,
May I reach heaven's joys, O bright heav'ns Son!
Heart of my own heart, whatever befall,
Still be my vision, O ruler of all.
Lol Pretty Purple was sliding away from me the whole time- I should've picked a less slippery chair!
I suspect it's because we're odd folks on a life track most people have a hard time keeping up with.
We are a couple on wheels (Lord knows I was born with mine) always on the go,
always willing to follow the arrows that point the way to dreams,
where ever they take us,
because, no matter what, everything is held together by faith,
and we always get by.
We do what we have to, and blow kisses to our past as we wave goodbye
again and again
and move on to the next part of our lives
with only each other in tow.
UNTIL NOW
because in a few months our traveling circus will gain a tiny magician.
and until her grand magical appearing act we're hunkering down in a North Georgia town that is positively crawling with relatives, and old friends.
It's the only place I know where she could get the welcome he deserves.
Until that day, all I can do is try not to worry, and instead choose to wonder
Will she be blond like his dad or brunette like me?
Will she have big dark eyes, or Peter's gold flecked blues?
Since I'm always cold and Peter's always hot, will she be juuusst right?
Only a few things can be known for sure-
as sure as the sun rises in the East she'll be born with wheels, always rolling alongside, as we continue this journey Peter and I set out on when we were still kids ourselves.
She will be pale pale pale.
and finally, and most importantly
She will be insanely ridiculously intenselycompletely
loved
__________________________________________
Below is a repost of one of my favorite posts ever. I don't generally repost, but given the current situation certain things could use reiterating:
Dr and Mrs A
-married67 years
-moved7 (soon to be 8)8 times
-survived high school
-survived undergrad
-survived medical school
- said "adios!" to 99% of our earthly possessions twice
-survived fast food jobs, night shift jobs, ultra-demanding overtime-all-the-time jobs and life without jobs
-survived living in a foreign country
-survived trying to restore an old as dirt cottage
-Survived living in a teeeeny tiny Caribbean apartment, and an even tinier one in NYC
- survived 1000 pointless fights
- and 100000 odious puns
- has taken hundreds of walks with our pup
Even though....
-He's science... ...and I'm art
-He's digitally generated compositions and I'm folk
- he's video games and I'm crosswords
-because after almost a decade of hanging out together we still both think the other is cool and fun and interesting
-because we have a strong mutually shared belief system
-because when one of us is all "this sucks and I can't stand it" the other is always "it's going to be ok! We'll be fine without any of our stuff/living a million miles from home/ after we bury the dead cat/ completely broke/ with no privacy. We'll get through it."
-Because we know God won't give us more than we can handle.
- Because at this point we're fairly used to living by the skin of our teeth
"I always heard the best delies are in the lower east side, and theres a store that sells nothing but gourmet homemade pickles, too."
"Sweet! I love homemade pickles. Lets go there for lunch!"
"Nah, I never could find it."
"Why don't you just Google it?"
"Because there is absolutely no way I'm going to Google 'pickle store'."
I think, of all the gazillions of pictures I have, this one sums up Peter and La Sha the best.
So much is going on right now, I don't even know where to begin.
Ironically, right now I have more blog posts than ever, yet am posting at almost my slowest rate ever.
I am a busy and excruciatingly tired lady.
In a couple of weeks there'll probably be a blogsplosion of wordiness.
I've been working on a series of essays that I'm tentatively calling "Things I Swore I'd Never Blog About". Tantalizing, n'est pas?
Also, I've pretty much finished up the Fierce Flora series. Unfortunately, plastic wrap and cardboard is safely secured around all the vines and blossoms, and they probably won't be making their debut for a few weeks.
I've got lots of NYC pictures dragging along too, that I'll get to posting sometime. Though I could be living in Timbuktu by the time I feel caught up.
Caught up- isn't that a nice thought.
Speaking of feelings and not-sureness, I've been ultra-contemplative lately and I can't quiet put my finger on how I feel about NYC. It's a place I simultaneously never want to spend another day in and that I never want to leave. There's a mixture of regret when thinking of it in the rearview and joy in looking ahead. It's a place that has so much more to offer a creative young lady than anywhere else on this planet, and I can't help but feel like I never made the most of it. Surviving takes so much effort that looking up and making the most of the opportunities that may be waiting for you seems like an option best put off till tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow. Was a big break waiting for me, but I was just too busy, too tired, too frazzled to notice? I'll never know- that's the stinger on the hornet of regret.
The only thing to do is to look ahead, because I have no doubt that what waits in the future is more amazing than everything in the past.
Even though it's September, there's an air of New Years Eve hanging around. The Christmas-esque frenzy of deciding what I really want (to keep, to do) is over and now I can enjoy a couple days merriment. Starting over (yet again)- I want this year to be full of intention (even if it isn't really a new year). And like on the precipice of every New Year, resolutions abound:
Be more focused.
Live more simply.
Work less.
Ignore everything and everyone that adds stress.
But more than anything- to just SLOOOW DOWN.
I have so much to not do, and I can't wait till I can get started not doing it. Until then, I just have to make it through this long faux December.
As our time in New York comes to an end I'm trying to fit in as much fun as possible (on my oh so very rare days off).
So Doctor A and I hopped on the ferry to Governor's Island to enjoy a free show featuring my fave singer (you know who she is- re: previous post!)
(I just noticed that the guy standing up in the middle of this picture is Josh Kaufman- click to enlarge!)
Unfortunately, the island's website is very misleading about the availability of food there. The only thing open when we got there was one lone food cart that turned out to be mostly a mirage- nothing the kindly lady had left to proffer even remotely registered as food- there is not enough Pepto Bismal in the world to entice me to eat jerk chicken from a cart.
So we roamed the place for a while like a couple of hungry dogs, until finally giving up and trudging into the music venue- where, Heaven be praised, we got friendly like with a couple delicious right off the grill burgers and all was well with the world again.
We found a primo supreemo spot amongst the electric palm trees over looking pretty little Gotham and got ready for the show, which did not disappoint!
(Except that Dawn And The Hound's set was much too short.) They did play "Straight Lines", though, which pretty much made my century.
(Cutest concert outfit ever! Where do you even find something so awesome?)
And, oh, Justin Townes Earle! Lord how I love his music. However, I've got to say- this was the first time I heard him live and there is just something strongly disingenuous about his onstage persona.
Unfortunately by the time Mr Ritter took the stage I wasn't feeling so hot and we decided that since we both had to work in the morning we might as well set sail for home.
Post Edit: One thing that I absolutely adore about the quirky Dr Ackerman is that whenever we're going to the beach, instead of wearing a t-shirt or other casual wear, he dons khaki cargos and a white button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Best outfit ever. (Does it remind you of Ethan Crane? It reminds me of Ethan Crane, but I'm pretty sure I'm the only one that ever watched that show.)
My senior class voted Tom Petty's "Free Falling" to be the graduation song. awesome. Btw, the vids posted above aren't much for the watching, but the tunes are sweeeeet.
I want one of those big gold necklaces that are popular with Latina chicks, but instead of spelling out my name I want it to read
"I'm aware you have an opinion
but I'm not interested in hearing it."
I don't know if the flea market jeweler will be able to fit all that in though, so maybe I should just get one that says "hush!".
Hmmm, my latina-jewlery-advice-dodging plan smacks of bad attitude, so maybe I should just stick with my old aversion tactic that's as follows; anytime someone starts in on me for something random, or goes on unwarranted advice tirades, or is really negative, or just makes me uncomfortable in any way, I try to find something (positive) about them to talk about. It works. every time. because the only thing obnoxioius people love more than giving someone a hard time is talking about themselves.
"You shouldn't eat dried pineapple- they preserve it with sulphur dioxide, you know. I only buy organic. You should shop at WholeFoods. "
"WOW you shop at WholeFoods, you must live in town, I bet you love living in the center of everything, how's your parking situation?".
Obnoxious tirade ended and further food snobbery averted.
(Sulphur dioxide is completely harmless and naturally occurring btw.)
Do you know what else annoys me and drives me crazy and thrills me and gives me absolute peace? painting. Here's a new one. I'm not sure how she fits into the "Fierce Flora" theme. Meticulous flora, studious flora, somber flora- any would be more appropriate I think.
You probably can't tell, but it's a close up of a Peony- my absolute favorite of all flowers.
They are such silly flowers- big round blossoms on skinny stalks you soak in warm water to open. A sensible flower would die in warm water, but peonies just blossom and smell like heaven.
I've been sorting my Earthly possessions into three categories:
Boxes= keep
(Favorite clothes, expensive art supplies- liquefied pumice ain't cheap ya know- finished paintings, books I could read more than once, and doodles from my doctor.)
Garbage bags= throw away
(Failed art projects, things I always said I'd fix but I know deep down I won't, shoes I loved the soles right off of, a million miscellaneous things I gathered as art supplies but which now must return to their true identity as garbage- broken calculators I'm talking to you- and clothes simultaneously luxuriously comfortable yet so ugly a hobo would be embarrassed to be seen in public in them- Legends of the Confederacy t-shirt, that means you
Bags with a ribbon tied on= give away
(Books I bought that never quite made it into my heart- don't worry Watership Down, you're safe-a warm but ugggly man's wool coat I got at a flea market before I got my down-filled LL Bean dream, extra sunglasses, clothes that are too small, too trendy, too uncomfortable, or "unlucky"- if I have a really bad day in a particular shirt I will almost never wear it again- weird, I know, but that's how it's been since middle school. Maybe for someone else, my cute cable knit tan sweater won't be such a bane.)
Purging my possessions always takes me back to the other times I've been through this- in distant places, basements, foreign countries, trying to convince myself I won't miss my junk, like I won't miss the friends I've made or the family members left behind, like I won't miss my favorite local restaurants, and all the other things you take for granted when you live someplace long enough to get comfortable. Orthodox Jewish little boys on skateboards, there are none of you anywhere else I've lived. Doorman who is crazy about Radar, who ALWAYS asks if it's OK to pet him even though we see you every single day, it cracks me up how you always want to hug my white dog even though you wear a solid black suit and end up covered in dog hair- I would take you with us. But I can't; you and the kosher deli and the hipster Brooklynites will all be staying here in NYC.
with one third of my stuff.
If this song doesn't get your feet stomping, then you're probably a robot, which is also cool.
I watched the fireworks over Chateau Elan with my family
I watched a steam engine parade in Dawsonville that inexplicably is focused on the Confederacy.
I watched a couple hundred of my relatives get together for a mass potluck.
I watched my Grandpa slowly losing to cancer.
This year I'm in NYC
Camped out on the couch, feeling equal parts home-sick and sick-sick.
Home-sickness is confusing when you've tumbled as much as this little stone has.
In my fevery pityparty there are strings pulling my heart to the familiarity of family and small backwoods towns,
and also abroad to a big open apartment on a hill- ocean breezes and the sound of waves, and good friends always afoot.
Also, there's an odd vague home-sickness for the road. Where stagnant wandering shoes can shake of the dust and get life moving again on to the next step.
Today it's the fourth of July, 2010.
I'm watching a baseball game and tangoing with consciousness.
Looking just out my window I saw my Haccidic neighbors setting up an awning an table then I fell asleep.
Now I can watch them having a cookout that looks more like a see-who-can-grow-the-best-beard-competition.
