We already have a name for him and I cannot wait to meet him. Within the next couple of weeks, I should be able to feel him move. I'm really looking forward to that.
Dad, future grandpa
My poor Dad got so excited about finding out the gender that in his future grandfatherly zeal, he posted it to Facebook—before we had a chance to tell the rest of our family. I get a text from my husband's, er, informative stepmother essentially letting me know that my dad posted about the baby's gender. I was annoyed and panicked. I was annoyed to get that text from her and annoyed that we didn't have the chance to tell everyone ourselves and I was panicked that precious information was out there and that I had no control over how it spread. The gender of our child was just not something I wanted on social media at all. I didn't want anyone to have a reason or opportunity to say anything weird or make any "pronouncements" over my unborn son. People can be real weirdos about gender. In the end, I called my dad and he apologized and eventually deleted his post, but then I felt bad. He's just an excited grandpa-to-be.
Charlottesville
While planning our trip to the beach, my husband and I decided to stop a little more than halfway to our destination to spend the night before continuing our trip the next day. We booked a place in Charlottesville, VA. On Friday night. The same Friday night that Nazis and white supremacists paraded around UVA's campus with torches chanting racist slogans. Thankfully, we didn't venture downtown for dinner that night and we were blissfully ignorant of anything that was going on until after we had already left town. I don't feel like exploring my feelings about it, frankly. What can I say? There are facts: 1. Racism is alive and well in 2017. 2. If you're surprised about that, you've been living with blinders on in a privileged bubble. 3. The current president was reluctant to denounce racist violence and the particular extremist groups responsible for perpetrating it. 4. There is absolutely NO equivalence whatsoever between white supremacists and Nazis representing hatred, ignorance and intolerance (e.g. being proponents of ideology desiring to wipe out entire races of people not like them and/or desiring to establish an all-white nation-state) and anti-racist activists who oppose said hatred, ignorance and intolerance. 5. I'm having to use the word "Nazi" in a sentence in 2017. 6. Removing Confederate monuments is not "erasing history," it's simply refusing to celebrate and glorify a historical faction which fought to uphold a white supremacist system. If you do not accept these facts, then there's nothing I could say to convince anyone otherwise. At this point, I refuse to take on that burden. I will do my part as an educator to educate and inform my students and make my classroom a place where we will confront "difficult" issues. However, although racism has and will continue to affect me and my family and soon my innocent son, it's not my problem to solve. It's the problem of the ones who continue to perpetuate, uphold and benefit from racism and racist systems to solve.
While planning our trip to the beach, my husband and I decided to stop a little more than halfway to our destination to spend the night before continuing our trip the next day. We booked a place in Charlottesville, VA. On Friday night. The same Friday night that Nazis and white supremacists paraded around UVA's campus with torches chanting racist slogans. Thankfully, we didn't venture downtown for dinner that night and we were blissfully ignorant of anything that was going on until after we had already left town. I don't feel like exploring my feelings about it, frankly. What can I say? There are facts: 1. Racism is alive and well in 2017. 2. If you're surprised about that, you've been living with blinders on in a privileged bubble. 3. The current president was reluctant to denounce racist violence and the particular extremist groups responsible for perpetrating it. 4. There is absolutely NO equivalence whatsoever between white supremacists and Nazis representing hatred, ignorance and intolerance (e.g. being proponents of ideology desiring to wipe out entire races of people not like them and/or desiring to establish an all-white nation-state) and anti-racist activists who oppose said hatred, ignorance and intolerance. 5. I'm having to use the word "Nazi" in a sentence in 2017. 6. Removing Confederate monuments is not "erasing history," it's simply refusing to celebrate and glorify a historical faction which fought to uphold a white supremacist system. If you do not accept these facts, then there's nothing I could say to convince anyone otherwise. At this point, I refuse to take on that burden. I will do my part as an educator to educate and inform my students and make my classroom a place where we will confront "difficult" issues. However, although racism has and will continue to affect me and my family and soon my innocent son, it's not my problem to solve. It's the problem of the ones who continue to perpetuate, uphold and benefit from racism and racist systems to solve.
Eggs, milk and bread
Since I've been pregnant, I've eaten scrambled eggs almost every morning for breakfast. I don't know what it is about scrambled eggs, but I really like them, especially with cheese, and I beat them with a little bit of milk to make them fluffy. I also usually like to have a piece of toast with my eggs. One morning this week I went to the refrigerator to make my usual breakfast—No eggs. No milk. And all the bread was gone, so no toast. It tends to happen when you have a house full of hungry people on a family vacation. I had already even put a pan on the stove to heat while I beat the eggs. I was so ready for my perfect breakfast, and my perfect breakfast dreams were dashed. I took the pan off the stove, turned off the burner and made a beeline for our room before anyone could see the tears in my eyes. My husband did see me, though, and followed me to the room. He made it his personal mission to make his pregnant, hormonal wife happy. He immediately went to the store and got the eggs, milk and bread I required. As soon as he got back, milk jug in hand, he stuck his head in the room and said, "I got the stuff you wanted," with a big grin on his face. Sweet guy.
Us
When my husband and I are out in public, we make note of the couples which fit into two categories: "us," white man/black woman couples, and "reverse us," black man/white woman couples. For reasons I shall not attempt to elaborate upon here, suffice it to say that "reverse us" is much more common than "us." So, seeing "us" in public is a pretty rare and, dare I say, satisfying (?) sighting. It's probably silly to other people, but to us, its like a validation, proof that we're not alone and that other people out there, albeit rare, know what's up. So, on our night to make dinner for the army, we went to the grocery store together and spotted "us" in the produce section. "Honey, look, there's us!" I whispered. I could not wipe the silly smile off of my face. He looked like he had some Irish in there like my easily-sunburnt husband, and she looked like a younger, athletic version of my mom with her natural hair pulled up into a curly ponytail. I tried not to become obsessed with them. I wanted them to see us, too. I suggested that we pretend to look at some bananas and walk past them so they'd notice us. I'm not sure whether they did or not, but I felt like a mischievous child. Would we have had anything to say to one another? Did we really have that much in common? Would the woman and I have become fast friends, chatting about life married to white guys over coffee? We'll never know.
Since I've been pregnant, I've eaten scrambled eggs almost every morning for breakfast. I don't know what it is about scrambled eggs, but I really like them, especially with cheese, and I beat them with a little bit of milk to make them fluffy. I also usually like to have a piece of toast with my eggs. One morning this week I went to the refrigerator to make my usual breakfast—No eggs. No milk. And all the bread was gone, so no toast. It tends to happen when you have a house full of hungry people on a family vacation. I had already even put a pan on the stove to heat while I beat the eggs. I was so ready for my perfect breakfast, and my perfect breakfast dreams were dashed. I took the pan off the stove, turned off the burner and made a beeline for our room before anyone could see the tears in my eyes. My husband did see me, though, and followed me to the room. He made it his personal mission to make his pregnant, hormonal wife happy. He immediately went to the store and got the eggs, milk and bread I required. As soon as he got back, milk jug in hand, he stuck his head in the room and said, "I got the stuff you wanted," with a big grin on his face. Sweet guy.
Us
When my husband and I are out in public, we make note of the couples which fit into two categories: "us," white man/black woman couples, and "reverse us," black man/white woman couples. For reasons I shall not attempt to elaborate upon here, suffice it to say that "reverse us" is much more common than "us." So, seeing "us" in public is a pretty rare and, dare I say, satisfying (?) sighting. It's probably silly to other people, but to us, its like a validation, proof that we're not alone and that other people out there, albeit rare, know what's up. So, on our night to make dinner for the army, we went to the grocery store together and spotted "us" in the produce section. "Honey, look, there's us!" I whispered. I could not wipe the silly smile off of my face. He looked like he had some Irish in there like my easily-sunburnt husband, and she looked like a younger, athletic version of my mom with her natural hair pulled up into a curly ponytail. I tried not to become obsessed with them. I wanted them to see us, too. I suggested that we pretend to look at some bananas and walk past them so they'd notice us. I'm not sure whether they did or not, but I felt like a mischievous child. Would we have had anything to say to one another? Did we really have that much in common? Would the woman and I have become fast friends, chatting about life married to white guys over coffee? We'll never know.
Nursery
The question I used to get annoyed by when we got married was "How's married life?" I know, it's an innocuous, small talk question just meant to make conversation and show interest in your life. But I couldn't help myself. Although I would smile politely and give a polite, banal response, deep in my soul, I shivered at the inanity of the question. My new annoying question is, "Are you going to set up a nursery/Have you thought about colors/a theme for the nursery?" *shivers* I know, it's just another innocuous small talk question meant to make conversation and show interest in your life. And I really don't have anything against anyone who has asked me this. But the reason I'm bothered by it is because just as I wasn't into the frou frou of a wedding a couple of years ago, I'm not yet into the frou frou of nesting for baby. And it's annoying that I'm expected to be. It's just assumed that I'm going to have a nursery (or that I should) and that it's going to be exquisitely decked out and color coordinated and perfectly set up before baby comes. Get away from me, get out of my face and saddown wit that. All the baby is going to need for the first few months is me, my husband, a place to sleep, food (again, me) and a constant supply of diapers. To be honest, another reason why I bristle at the nursery question is because we're renting and where we're living right now is not ours. It just feels small and temporary and not-mine. And it doesn't make me want to go all out on a nursery. Maybe I'll feel more excited about that aspect of being a new mom once we have a place to call our own.
The question I used to get annoyed by when we got married was "How's married life?" I know, it's an innocuous, small talk question just meant to make conversation and show interest in your life. But I couldn't help myself. Although I would smile politely and give a polite, banal response, deep in my soul, I shivered at the inanity of the question. My new annoying question is, "Are you going to set up a nursery/Have you thought about colors/a theme for the nursery?" *shivers* I know, it's just another innocuous small talk question meant to make conversation and show interest in your life. And I really don't have anything against anyone who has asked me this. But the reason I'm bothered by it is because just as I wasn't into the frou frou of a wedding a couple of years ago, I'm not yet into the frou frou of nesting for baby. And it's annoying that I'm expected to be. It's just assumed that I'm going to have a nursery (or that I should) and that it's going to be exquisitely decked out and color coordinated and perfectly set up before baby comes. Get away from me, get out of my face and saddown wit that. All the baby is going to need for the first few months is me, my husband, a place to sleep, food (again, me) and a constant supply of diapers. To be honest, another reason why I bristle at the nursery question is because we're renting and where we're living right now is not ours. It just feels small and temporary and not-mine. And it doesn't make me want to go all out on a nursery. Maybe I'll feel more excited about that aspect of being a new mom once we have a place to call our own.
