This editing network I joined is kinda weird.
I get about 1-4 opportunities a week to bid on jobs. If I want the job, I contact the client and provide info about my services and fees. The same client may be contacted by up to two other editors wanting the job. If the client is interested in me, we may then exchange several emails, negotiating, determining the scope of the job, etc. And then, very often, the response is “Sorry; I can’t afford you.” OK. Fine. I’m not so hard-up for work that I’m willing to do freebies or give discounts to struggling authors. So. We’ll see. I’ve completed one network job so far and it was lucrative. There are benefits to doing this type of work beyond the monetary ones, too, provided the work actually lands in my lap. I should get more experience in new areas this way. However, all this bidding and emailing takes time, and so far, it hasn’t landed me much work. At this point, if all the bids I’ve made were to result in signed contracts, I’d have way more work than I could handle. I guess it feels strange because it’s forcing me to do a lot more marketing and client education than I’m used to doing when working for publishers.

Definition: Full-term pregnancy = 37–42 weeks. The average length is 40.

According to my trusty book, baby now weighs about 4.4+ pounds. His crown-to-rump length is about 12 inches and total length is 19.4 inches. From about now and till the end, baby will gain about 1/2 pound per week, which should result in a 7 to 8 pounder. (I’m hoping for 7.)

I now wake up every single hour of the night to pee. I see midnight, 1 a.m., 2 a.m., 3 a.m., 4 a.m., 5 a.m., 6 a.m. and 7 a.m. when I rise for the day. I think of this as baby boot camp. Baby is already training me to be awake at all hours every single night without an end in sight.

I have minor physical complaints such as sore ribs, where I am consistently being kicked, and some abdominal muscle pain. I can only sleep on my sides or my entire lower body loses circulation and starts to tingle. It’s tough to bend down to pick stuff up from the floor, which is challenging considering Lucas ensures that there’s always stuff on the floor. I lost my balance the other night and fell down.

However, I still feel pretty good (when people aren’t being mean to me)! I have no weird or scary medical condition to contend with. Everything is proceeding normally, and let’s hope it continues to do so! The list of problems I don’t have is huge: To mention just a few, I don’t have pregnancy-induced diabetes, twins, pregnancy-induced hypertension, IUGR (intrauterine growth retardation), anemia, cancer, or premature labor. So, yay for me!

We still don’t have a name picked out yet. Nor is the baby stuff we’ve been saving since Lucas was tiny (like diapers, clothes, blankets) clean and put away. We have to make it past Christmas before we can do any of that work. Then, it will be a race against baby’s arrival.

I’m on a bit of an emotional rollercoaster these days. Holiday parties are fun, but my reproductive state garners me lots of unwanted attention from strangers. I’ve managed to have mostly a good time at these events, but I’ve cried my eyes out each time, too. I don’t like strangers making comments about my body/shape/size and I don’t like strangers who take liberties and touch my belly before even asking. It makes me feel objectified and vulnerable. I can’t help but wonder why people’s social filters don’t kick in when they interact with me; it’s like all their normal filters vanish. Didn’t their mothers teach them manners? I swear to god, I’m going to ask next stranger who touches my belly without first getting my permission “Would you like to grab my tits, too? They’re also bigger because I’m pregnant.”

EDIT: One woman at a recent party touched me before she even told me her name. I was backed up against a kitchen counter and surrounded by biddies, so I couldn’t even move away from her advance. Then, after she touched me, she said “Do you mind?” I replied, “Yes, I do actually. I prefer it when people ask my permission first.” She looked abashed, hung around me for another moment or two to save face, and then split. I didn’t see her again for the rest of the night.

ANOTHER EDIT: For the record, I am complaining about the behavior of STRANGERS. My friends have been supportive, respectful, loving, and great during this pregnancy (and my first). Being touched with love, kindness, and compassion is tremendously healing and joyful to me. I’m not trying to prevent all people from touching me—just those I don’t know.

Inquiring minds want to know, what are the best novels you’ve read recently? If you can provide a super-brief summary and why you liked it, that would be cool.
Thanks!

A little more than a week ago, Lucas and I made a list of the things he’d like to have for Christmas. I didn’t help him with these ideas. He came up with these things all by himself. [NOTE: This is posted here for posterity’s sake, not as a bid for presents from readers.]

* Real child-size tools (to use when working with Daddy—not to play with)
* Two-wheeled bike with training wheels (Is he really big enough for this? How he’s grown!)
* Badge maker (something he saw in a catalog; makes buttons)
* Stamps/ink pad
* Train mechanic’s suit (for working on Thomas the Tank Engine at the Island of Sodor)
* Big chest of dress-up costumes (from a catalog; comes with race car driver, astronaught, cop, and firefighter costumes and accessories)
* Dolly crib/cradle
* Wooden Thomas trains (recycling cars, gold prospector cars)
* Metal Thomas train
* Space puzzle (around 60-100 pieces, rated for 4- to 6-year-olds)

~~~
Many of these items made it onto the wish list that I gave to his grandparents. Santa Claus will be bringing the bike to our house early, early Christmas morning. Shhh. Don’t tell.

This week’s behavior is brought to you by the letter O.

ornery
obstreperous
obnoxious
obstinate
obdurate
out of order
oblivious

During dinner several days ago, Lucas decided he had to use the bathroom. Ian and I took the opportunity to discuss some current affairs that we wouldn’t normally discuss in front of the boy.

From the throne, Lucas shouted “I AM THE BOSS OF THIS HOUSE! Stop talking!”

Since then, he’s tried repeatedly to convince us with “logic” that the ultimate authority around here rests in him. “Really. For reals. In real life.” Uh-huh.

It was a lovely weekend. We did family stuff instead of work and schoolwork. Ian and I even managed to go on a date.

Saturday morning we met Kelly and Ambrosia and Kelly’s mom, Anna, down in Old Sac to ride the Christmas Train. Santa was on board and each kid got to visit with him for a moment or two. Lucas told Santa his top-two wished for Christmas gifts: a two-wheeled bike (with training wheels) and a box of costumes (firefighter, doctor, cop, race-car driver, etc.), which he saw in a catalog. As Lucas watched Santa approaching down the center aisle of the train, his eyes lit up with glee and anticipation. I guess four and a half is probably the ideal Santa Claus age.

After the train ride, we finally did a tiny bit of shopping, then went to my parents. They gave us two tickets to see Throwing Parties at the B Street Theatre and provided babysitting, too. Ian and I joyfully drove back downtown in the pouring rain to see the show. Unfortunately it pretty-much sucked. I’ve seen original Buck Busfield Xmas plays before and they’ve been good in the past. Alas, this one missed the mark completely.

However, the play made for enjoyable and snarky dinner conversation while we dined at the Tower Café afterward. It’s so nice to be (1) out on the town, (2) with my main squeeze, (3) without our 4-year-old Napoleon trying manfully to order us around and prevent us from speaking to each other. Having four whole (waking) hours together without interruptions was postitively blissful.

Sunday morning’s break in the rain prompted us to venture out to get our Chrsitmas tree. We drove to Davis Ranch just beyond Sloughouse Inn on Jackson Highway to choose and cut a tree. It’s a very flat and muddy tree farm. In biting mist, we tromped through the muck to find the right tree. I placed my normal, rather-perfectionist notions about Christmas trees on the back burner this year. At Davis Ranch, trees are only $35 for any size or type. I figured if it was green and $35, it would be just fine, no matter what it looked like. We were pleased to find an attractive, large tree. Lucas amused himself by slopping through the mud and splashing in puddles. He got both feet stuck in a particularly sticky, gloopy mud puddle and couldn’t get out. I went to rescue him. We got Lucas out, but not the boot. He put his sock into the mud, then stood on one foot leaning up against me. I was crouched down, leaning over to reach his stuck boot. I don’t know how I avoided landing on my ass in the mud: I’m not exactly nimble anymore.

Anyway, I always feel kinda funny about buying a Christmas tree. It’s my guilty nature, I suppose. I wouldn’t dream of having Christmas at home without one, and yet … what is ethically better?

1. Cut your own tree from a farm where you know (a) it was grown to be a Christmas tree and this is it’s destiny, and (b) it will be replanted
OR
2. Buy a tree that’s already been cut so that it does it’s job and doesn’t go to waste in the shredder (but probably comes all the way from Oregon and therefore isn’t exactly a locally grown item)

This year, we opted for cheap, local, fresh, and the “teachable moment.” Trees grow in the ground. They are alive. If you cut it down, it dies. Replanting the tree completes the cycle.

Of course, we spent the rest of Sunday decorating the house and making gifts. It was good to spend so much unstressed time together.

New Emergency Contraceptive available with and sometimes without a prescription (in CA and a few other states).
http://www.go2planb.com/ForConsumers/AboutPlanB/WhatisPlanB.aspx

“Things do not always go as planned. You might have forgotten to take your pill, or another birth control method you used might have failed, like your condom broke. Now you have a second chance to prevent pregnancy with Plan B®.

“Plan B® is an emergency contraceptive that can still prevent a pregnancy after contraceptive failure, unprotected sex, or sexual assault.

“Plan B® should be taken within 3 days (72 hours) of unprotected sex and can reduce the risk of pregnancy by 89%. But the sooner you take it the more effective it will be.

“Plan B® is not RU-486 (the abortion pill); it will not work if you are already pregnant.

“Plan B® is not a substitute for routine birth control. It’s important to remember that Plan B® does not protect you from HIV infection (the virus that causes AIDS) or any other sexually transmitted disease (STD).

“If it is taken within 3 days (72 hours) after unprotected sex, it will decrease the chance that you will get pregnant by 89%. That means 7 out of every 8 women who would have gotten pregnant will not get pregnant. And Plan B® works even better if you take it within the first 24 hours after unprotected sex.1 Unprotected sex might happen when your healthcare professional’s office may be closed, such as over a weekend. Getting a prescription for Plan B® in advance means that it will be there for you — in time — if you ever need it.”

It’s Adopt-a-Gemini Week. That means it would be a favorable time for you to divorce your real parents and hook up with some new, better ones. If you like your original mother and father OK but still want some additional nurturing, think about looking for a mentor. Strike up a dialogue with a potential sugar daddy or sugar mama. See if you can track down your very own spin doctor, grant-writer, or stuntperson. In short, my lovable and cuddly friend, ask the universe to send you guardian angels who understand you at least as well as you understand yourself.