VIPP

I like being a pregnant person. (And no, that is not my stomach up there. I am holding out on those kinds of photos until there is no shadow of a doubt it is Baby Not Burgers)

• People are nice to you.
• They care about how you are doing. And mean it.
• They think being round is Cute. For Once.
  
• Resting is important and excused
  
• People squeal when they see you
• And are really genuinely excited for you
• You get to buy big clothes
• You no longer need to (or can) hold your gut in
• Not seeing your feet is comical, not tragic
  
• Looking good is secondary, OK, tertiary, to feeling good
• Asking for help comes really easily
  
• It matches my already advanced need for quiet time and naps and comfy bottoms
  

So yes, it suits. I love the attention. I love my thick hair and strong nails. I love the kicks and the somersaults. I love Mark talking to my tummy. I have a few physical niggles, but not bad. I feel good. And Special. Because I am growing a person.

What's going to happen after the boy comes? Will I get any attention? Will I care? Is this the ultimate test of being a Grown Up? It is no longer about you -- and that is OK? Does the maternal love kick in and all that matters is the Baby?

Being a Very Important Pregnant Person is lovely. I look forward to seeing if I can give up the crown graciously to my new Prince.

taking pictures

You know how when you are on holiday or at an important party with all your friends and you really want to capture the moments for your memory bank, but you are so busy ENJOYING the moments that stopping to break out of it and photograph it feels wrong?

That is kinda how I have been feeling about this particular time of pregnancy. I know I am going to want to remember little things, what I am feeling, what steps we are taking to get ready, what is happening, but I kind of can't be arsed.

Is that weird? It is like I am so happy In It that I don't want to break the spell to look at things more closely or record them.

This does not bode well for me keeping baby journals, does it. I find I am getting lazier about those kinds of things. We still haven't ordered (shhhh) our Cambridge wedding photos from 3 years ago. Nor have we really put our DC wedding ones in any kind of album.

All the baby stuff I have -- maternity papers, stuff from the doctor, etc. are shoved into a blue folder named "Baby". I have not organized anything official. The few things we have bought are sitting piled up in the office. Unsorted. Un -cooed about.

I haven't really gotten a jones to shop for small adorable things. Or large and practical ones either.

I kind of want to just read novels and sleep and go for walks. The End.

Lexie put it nicely -- that I am providing a House. A safe shelter that is constant and stable and not too hot and not too cool and is sturdy and quiet. Nothing too jiggley. No sudden movements.

Somehow that gives me a little more permission to be quiet about it all. Be a Safe House.

Perhaps I wake up a bit more to be more conscious about what kind of House I am and pay a bit more attention to the inner workings.

As soon as I take one more nap.

Fame! (I'm gonna live 4ever. I'm gonna learn how to fly!)

At least for the day! Dig my article about Life Clubs in today's Scotland's Daily Record.
A giant photo of me and my name SEVERAL times feels weird. And nice.

I recall that I also really SAID all those things but they didn't sound nearly so precious at the time. Nor do I remember trying to sound British. (Rubbish, Brilliant, Have A Go) Do I really talk like that when I am trying to fit in?

Well it is a good day for the Scots as they now know that we exist!

Too bad there is no mention as to how to attend! (http://www.lifeclubs.co.uk/!)

P.S. Look how LONG my hair is!

hard labour

Mark's that is.

As Mark is spending his 4th weekend eyeball deep in drilling and sawing and pounding and earning blood blisters, I sit idly by with offers of occasional cups of tea and making good on my promises of a good meal when the day is done.

He is seriously going to TOWN. Building from scratch:

• a walk in 'cupboard' for all manner of tools and buckets, and hide able cleaning junk
• a wardrobe
• and is now installing new wooded worktops/counters in the kitchen.

I am amazed at his hard work, his perfectionism, his tireless cheer and lack of moaning, even when he incurs minor cuts, scrapes and falls into bed exhausted.

I sometimes feel a little guilty that I am not really helping. Or Helping At All. I mean, this is my baby's room and my house too. Shouldn't I be helping? No, he claims. Honestly, I do love my pregnancy excuse for not lifting things or holding stuff. But I am seriously Not Needed for this project. Not for the Figuring it Out. The Decisions of How. The Buying of the Materials. The Clean Up of the Mess. And I am so grateful.

He treats this as his job. While mine is to take a nap. How did I get so lucky?

I feel so honoured and a little pampered as he rubs MY hands after a day of hard work.

I can really learn some lessons from him to keep going and see the big picture of how things will look. Not get hung up when things go slightly wrong. Be creative in the approach. Have the right tools. Get help when you need it.

Perhaps this is his version of nesting to get ready for the little one. And this is his labour. Mine after all, will come in 4.5 months. And may involve a little more than a blood blister. And I'll get pain meds.

What is really true is that this, Mark's labour, is no less a labour of love.

beauty in my window

wee getaway to Isle of Gigha (pronounced gee- aa)

nine (and three)

Celebrating nine years of togetherness today. Nine feels like a hefty number. Longer than grade school. Nearly a decade. Past any 7 year itches and headed into double digits.

And we are also celebrating three years of being married to each other too. (Near to the day we met too!)

Hard to believe it has only been that long. And that it has been that long. We reviewed the places we have lived and the jobs and phases each of us has been through. And my move to the UK and how seamlessly the rest worked out. A lovely walk through the memory.

Who knew that fateful Happy Hour for LW's birthday at Sequioa in 2000 would change the very course of my life. And the cheeky English boy whose original claim to fame was that he insulted my sister's hair would worm his way into my very soul and enrich it in ways I never dreamed.

So yes, today we celebrate. And I celebrate my very own version of personal happiness.

And love.

additional movements

1) Giant amounts of long and skinny timber and wood and various building bits and bobs arrived at our flat this morning
2) This means Mark can get cracking on building a cupboard/closet with a door for all the tool crap
3) And a closet for the wee babe
4) And he also ordered new (against my wishes grr) new worktops for the kitchen (we need ANOTHER PROJECT??)
5) And await a new sink so we can use the dryer in the kitchen
6) I made a chocolate cake (which looks nothing like the photo. Mine is 100% Betty Crocker. And crooked)
7) I get up 2x a night for bathroom breaks
8) Newly sprouting back pain
9) Survived going to Glasgow's Baby Show where I saw many things I never want
10)Now sporting new (too much info?) maternity brassiere and belly band, which is like a big tube top that you wear on your hips to disguise that you can't button your pants. (Where has this invention BEEN?)

begin the begin

We have a perfect spare room that has been our (on a good day) 'Multi Purpose' room since we moved. Let me be clear. It is really the Junk room.

3 bikes, the (in use!) tumble dryer, steam cleaner (Mark is in love with it), electric fan, space heater, giant tool storage, xmas decorations, 5 suitcases, hundreds of bits of wood and random (to me) scraps of things Mark needs when he is building/fixing something, tile cutter, vacuum cleaner, 3 tennis rackets and other various unnameable detritus. It is the room Mark uses for all cutting, sawing, building and tool things. Filthy. Cluttered. Need to Keep the Door Closed.



This. This room. With all that. Is to be the baby room.

Sigh.

With my deep ignorance (OK, disdain) of all things DIY. I could not marry my image of a sweet and clean and safe and serene baby room with this ... place.

Mark, my dear dear, knew otherwise. And has been sketching and planning, and measuring and head scratching on how to store, declutter, or otherwise account for all of these things in our life and flat while making this the room we want. Bless him, for that is just the kind of thing that makes me want to pull all the covers over my head. (Can the baby just sleep in the sock drawer?)

So last weekend, we began.

We have a loft, which for you North Americans is called an attic. Great. But we also have like 16 foot ceilings and a 15 foot ladder. and the hatch for the loft is little. And in the bathroom.

So Mark BRAVELY and inexplicably hatched the brain child to Build A Better Loft Hatch. In the "baby room". Which meant Creating A Hole In the Ceiling. On Purpose.

This, I could not get my head around. How? What do you mean? Do you know HOW to? Do you need to call your Dad? Look online?

OH, I should know by now, that Mark figures things out.

2 days later, and 8 million times filthier, (Our building is like 200 years old and had that much soot and dirt up there) We have a new hole. And it looks like it should. And we managed to off load an old TV, old desk chair to new homes and chucked MANY of the offending cluttering things up into the new storage of UP There. Where I predict we will leave everything until we move again.

Unfortunately, we also acquired a Near Hole. In the hallway. Where Mark's foot slipped off the beam and crunched into the ceiling.




So the room is not done. It will require building a new cupboard for the tools. And a new wardrobe/closet for the kid. And a new sink for the kitchen. (Sigh, so we can move the dryer. don't even ask) And paint. (The walls now being Dirt Coloured)






And all the baby furniture and accouterments.

And, well, a baby.

But. We. Have. Begun.

internal pacing

So, here I am, almost 16 weeks into this gig of pregnancy. Nothing to "do" about it except take care of myself. Doing all the proscribed 'right' things -- no booze, caffeine, nitrates, raw things, medications, soft cheese, etc. Lots of sleeping, lots of walking, started prenatal yoga.

CHECK. CHECK. CHECK.

And we have LOADS of time before we really have to have things done and dusted, baby room-wise.

So, yay for me! TIME! Freedom! Things I hear are mighty scarce once one becomes a new parent. Never to sleep as soundly again. I so so so get that. So we have 2 mini trips planned. And see movies. And go out into the world. And be loud.

So why do I not feel really free? I feel like I am pacing inside. Preoccupied. Now that I am latched on firmly to the notion of growing a person and then becoming a mother to the person, most other things seem to pale a bit. It is like knowing you have a REALLY BIG party to go to and you are excited and nervous and wonder what it will be like. And it isn't for another 5 months.

It is the preparty equivalent of obsessing about What to Wear and Over Applying Lipstick.

I think I need some living to kick me into realizing that this is it.

I need to get out of my navel. The baby will grow without my furrowed brow and one track mind.

Time for those trips away to change up the scenery and expand my mind along with my belly!

current benefits and downsides

overwhelming

So, we went to do a little "perusing" of nursery furniture today at John Lewis. You know, Looking.

And as we viewed the 1 zillion different kind of prams (that is stroller to you US folks) and cribs v moses baskets, v cots, v everything else, I felt a shift. No not in there, but in our perception.

Mark was taking the iCandy Transportation System for a spin down the store aisle and I think it hit us both simultaneously that soon we would be Needing These Things. Using These Things. As Parents.

It kind of felt like we were posing. New kids in the Parenthood store. Not really knowing what we are looking at. Or what questions to ask.

I guess we are still feeling sometimes like maybe I just had a big lunch and am crabby and need bigger jeans. I forget that I am Really Pregnant. Or, moreover, we will eventually *hopefully* have a kid at the end of this funny experiment.

More scans and a few tests ought to hammer it home. As does my heartburn and giant gut. And lack of caffeine. And huffing and puffing as we head up the last of our 2 flights of stairs to our flat. (the last 5 steps are a doozey)

The exciting part is starting and that is, well, exciting. Thinking about the colors and the cute onesies, and cute toys. And I am hoping the incredulous and wonder stays a bit longer. It is still fun to be naive. I know it won't be easy. At All. I hold no illusions of that. So for now, the dreamy state feels like being engaged. No need to worry about the marriage yet.

returning

Yes. I have not been blogging.

Thank you for noticing! And not for lack of happenings...

1. Went to Canada to help train new hosts for Life Club Shalom Village!
2. Played in Elora with Chris & Dave & Gary
3. Saw my parents and Aunt Dot in WI
4. Been rocking my Glasgow Life Club
5. Coaching my regular peeps

But mostly, what has been taking up most of my time, psychic energy and all my physical and mental and emotional real estate has been ...

1. Sleeping
2. Feeling like I was run over by a truck
3. Napping
4. Padding around in soft clothes eating cereal
   
5. Being on the edge of barfing

Because, yes, many of you know and if you don't you may have surmised, I am pregnant!

I found out on my actual birthday and my first trimester was consumed with my very own self. I know I could have been blogging about all the other nice things happening, but since I knew I couldn't go public, I created a self imposed gag order.

Cat outta the bag. I am almost 14 weeks along the way, feeling more like myself and starting to have the news really take purchase in my brain. It is time to get excited! Which we are. In batches between slight freak out and wonderment.

Taking it all in stages and not at the point where I can watch any Discovery Channel "Extreme Labor" or "Baby Stories" yet because the end game still makes me woozy. For now I am happy to stay awake all day, have an appetite, go out into the world and be active, and watch my belly grow.

I promise not to make this blog all about pregnancy nay about parenthood.

I hope it, as I, remain still my own person with a brain and interests and things to say.

Now just Plus One. Perhaps with more insight.

snow globe

I know so MANY people are so over the whole snow thing. Novelty worn right on off. I mean, it is February already and snow has been around for 3 months for most folks. Shoveling, cold, wet, traffic issues, travel disruptions, etc ...

Here in the UK cities we get a sprinkling here and there, but nothing that sticks or crunches under one's feet.

But today was different.

It was sticking. And really coming down from all angles. Giant, fluffy cotton balls. It looked like we were in the middle of a snow globe that had been shaken. Hard.

So we went out to play today and enjoy the rare white world.

• slide down the hill on our bums...
• watch eager snowmen being made -- the ones with sticks and a bit of dirt cuz the snow isn't deep
  
• throw snowballs ...
  
• get wet gloves ...
  
• admire how many other people were doing the same thing at 4 pm on a Monday
• take a bite out of a fresh white, clean snow
• watch Mark's face turn into a gleeful 8 year old
• play!

national me day

So tomorrow is my birthday.

And I love my birthday. I've always loved my birthday. Maybe because being the youngest of 5 kids it was the day I got to pick out my supper menu and my cake and sit at the head of the table and drink milk out of a wine glass and have my family bring me presents. And it is not all that different today. Except the milk part.

I mean, for my 30th birthday, the theme was All About Carol. I am not shy about asking for the attention I love and thrive in. I've always been really fortunate and lucky to have people who remind me that I am important in their world.

I know it sounds 1% weird, but it feels like a secret holiday for me. National Carol Day. You walk around knowing that it is YOUR day. And the shop keeper doesn't know -- or the lady at the bus stop. Over the years I have taken a bit more responsibility in making sure I like my birthday day. Planning things I want to do. Creating the day I want to have. Because face it, birthdays can be weird. You want people to remember. And you also don't want to make it a Big Deal. Very tricky place. I mean, you WANT people to want to celebrate your own national holiday and all and yet you don't want to ask them ... "please be happy I was born and tell me today."

And honestly, when it is other people's birthdays even if you really really like the people, it is never as big of a deal as when it is YOUR birthday. I like to remember the day and wish them a happy one, and all. And I hope it makes them feel like I am glad they were born. Because I am.

And mostly I am learning that while it is NICE to have other people celebrate you - it is really more important that you celebrate yourself. Hey- you lived another year here on earth -- breathing and living and loving and doing stuff... cool! And it brings your humanity right to the tippy top of your consciousness.

It is a day to feel divinely and scrumptiously human and alive. In your bones you know who you are.

And that calls for cake.

(This was one of those entries I 'wrote in my head' in the small hours. It was way more insightful at 4:30 a.m.)

turning a corner

I watched last night's Obama Inaugural Celebration with pride and happiness. Such energy and hope and reality and heart. I loved hearing the messages from history intertwined with the music by today's stars. It was inclusive without being annoying. There was room at the table for everyone. The enthusiasm and outpouring was palatable here in my living room in Glasgow. I had the volume up. I sang along. I clapped. I got teary eyed. Shower the People. Higher Ground. This Land is Made for You and Me.

And I know I fled DC when GW was just entering his second ill-fated term. I escaped. I was GLAD to be out of America. I sometimes felt apologetic for being American here in the UK. ("Honest, no one I KNOW voted for him. Either time!")

And watching last night made all my American pride swell up. Especially in my second home of Washington DC -- where I spent 12 of my confused and major adult formative years. I felt a kin-ship of my people.

And weirdly, so did my UK label born and bred husband.

The road will be long. As President Elect Obama thanked the speakers and performers for reminding us, through song and through words, just what it is that we love about America, I too am reminded.

It may be time to come home soon.

small hours

I've gotten into a weird (for me) habit of going to bed late. And NOT being able to fall asleep. Usually I read and then turning off the light and taking my glasses off become achievements WAY too hard to tackle and I fall into a deep pit of slumber with the light on and my glasses in my hand. (as I tell myself, "remember not to roll over on these.")

But since the holidays we've been up staying up late and consequently getting up unreasonably and embarrassingly late for a work week. Alarm ignored. No snooze. Just "off" after it blares.

But one of the great things about lying in bed trying to fall asleep or those moments of breaking into consciously when I wake up is that I keep getting these flashes of clarity. Eyes closed. Fuzzy room. Dark and Blankets. But somewhere in my mind, I am emerging.

I know I have been a particularly absent blogger. One of the reasons is that I didn't have much to say or share. And now in those small hours I am finding, nay, COMPOSING brilliant essays and insights for my blog, for my coaching web site, for client sessions. "Ah... so clear - THAT'S what I want to say!" Wonderful to have the grey matter churning out new information!

Except. Here's the rub. I can almost never remember any of it in the light of sober, caffeinated day. It is as if these glimpses of brilliance are fleeting and wispy. I want to recreate those words, those images and I come up with the big thought bubble over my head ... and it is empty.

Yeah I know what you are thinking, and it is just so unlikely that I will wake up enough to write them down. I don't even want to try that. I just want to love the clear moments I am getting. Like when you are tuning an old radio and get a faint sound of music somewhere in the crackles as you turn the knob. I just want to notice them and enjoy them. And see what sense I can make in my waking hours.

And turn up the volume.

somewhere over the ...

I was on the phone chatting with Lex this morning and I looked outside my office window to see this beauty.

I am still excited and giddy about seeing rainbows. There were rare and often caused by spilled gas on the driveway when I grew up. Here in the UK, they are more frequent, given all the mini weather systems here and high chances for the on-off rain.

So whenever I see them I still feel really lucky. They feel magical and fleeting. And indeed this one was only out for about 5 minutes. And I got to see it.

I guess it reminds me to keep my eyes open for those glimpses of wonder in everything. Look for the beauty and the magic and I will be more likely to find them.

As I head into a new year with clean pages to fill, I want to remember to look for the Wow/Now moments of awe and look at my life with excitement and appreciation.

The pot of gold can't be far away.

greatest hits 2008

Yep- Greatest Hits 2008!
Every year I create a list of my top hits for the year... things or people I discovered, enjoyed, saw, heard, wore, ate -- or anything that made the year memorable. I include trips, foods, friends, memories, accomplishments, and songs -- anything that was the cream of the crop for me. And, I write them down and share them with the people that helped shape my year with my gratitude.

(I have to own up that this list idea originally came from my brother Gary and I have 100% adopted it as my own. So GR Faculjak©!)

Here, in no particular order -- a long list as it was a BIG Year!

• Being sung Happy Birthday by 23 new friends in 4 languages
• 40
• pink fuzzy robe
• Rumi the Sufi poet
• Paris sunshine for Valentines Day
• Indefinite Right to Remain Visa
• UK drivers license
• Let Me Fall
  
• Salma Cafe
• Lupe Pintos supply of Tex Mex staples in a dry country
• Illy coffee
• daily doses of Lexie
• Notes from the Universe
  
• Climb on!
• 14 foot ceilings
• Kelvingrove Park walk
• loving my marriage to Mark
• eyebrow threading
• quiz night at the Liquid Ship
• Life purpose workshop with Hanna in Madison
• Plockton
• Forth Street heartbreak
• home ownership
• 6 transatlantic flights, 1 in fancy class all bringing me to the USA
• Obama
• Life Clubs
• real solid wood furniture and Big Momma Chair
• shifting the space/intending my impact
• Leadership R1, R2, R3 and R4 with the Porcupine Tribe and the Kimsey-Houses
• kitchen radio
• Mother Tree
• DIY Dynamo Mark
• Working fireplace
• Northern California
• Florida sunshine in May with good peeps
• Stay

THANK YOU FOR BEING A PART OF MY 2008!!!

blogging lameness

Yeah. Not much action here lately.

Since I have been back from R4, I realise I have kind of  gone south and AWOL, blogging-wise.

Not sure if it is the sheer delight to be Not Going Anywhere for a while. 

Or completing the Doing Hard Things and Growing as a Leader, which has wonderfully captured my attention for the last 11 months. 

Or maybe since we are still a wondering about the future of Mark's continuity of income.

Or perhaps the easy throwaway updates that Facebook allows. "Carol is ... Not Updating Her Blog with anything substantial since Facebook is to easy and lazy"

But I know. Lame. 

Sometimes when I am avoiding thinking I think I avoid posting because it inevitably forces me to speak my truth. 

So I am postponing  my  Smart Thinking, New Projects, Forward March mentality until the nice 2009.  

Beauty and order. Christmas and cozies. Home and hearth. Visitors and fun.

These are my current priorities. And I hope that from them, from that, the rest will follow.