Buzzkill

Amazing what a weekend does for one's perspective. A little time spent outside the office walls and the blood starts rushing back to my cold, deadened heart.

I'm feeling less:

1) irate at learning the sex over the phone at my desk instead of together with E, Fig tagging the u/s screen in the background,

2) ambivalent about parenting a girl,

3) scared shitless in general (this, of course, is subject to change at any given moment).


I tell you, the level of hand-holding I've required throughout this pregnancy stuns even me. Every step of the goddamned way I've got to have reassurance from all sides. It's unbelievable.

The good news is that I'm getting the reassurance from all sides, like the lucky fuck that I am.

My family and friends are supportive. My family in law is supportive. The inexhaustible E is supportive. And of course all of you who read this and support me with your kind words of wisdom.

All these people, endlessly listening to my adolescent distress. But each word I say or write leaves me feeling less restless and panicked. So thank you.

I'm toying with the idea of posting a poll on here with our potential names. It doesn't seem like very many people do this sort of thing. I imagine that's because it is a pretty bad idea...but hey - since when have I shied away from acting on a bad idea?

Speaking of Bad Ideas, The L Word premiered last night. Woah, nelly, was it bad. The L Word is my favorite show that I Love To Hate. It acheived its greatest buzzkill heights last night, though, what with the Hollywood executive/creative author relationship storyline. YAWN.

You know I won't miss it next Sunday, though. Damn you, Ilene.