Tuesday, October 22, 2013

I have something to say.

Several somethings actually.  First, we are indeed having another boy.  There is a rousing debate about possible names on my Facebook page if anyone would like to contribute.  I believe the winning name at the moment is Sherlock Danger.  Second, if you haven't read Divergent and Insurgent by Veronica Roth, go buy them now.  We'll wait. 

Third, if you haven't finished Allegiant, skip this next paragraph because there will be major, MAJOR spoilers.  Now that we're alone...what the crap, Veronica Roth!  I have some questions for you.  I very much love your writing, and despite my questions, I still think the ending of your trilogy was beautiful and had a  lot of beautiful things to say.  Did you plan the entire time to kill Tris, or did that come as a surprise to you as well?  Why did you choose to kill her permanently instead of giving her a gunshot wound that she could heal from?  It was certainly an option.  A lot of people have gotten shot during the series, and a lot of them have survived.  I'm tempted to email her and ask because as an author, and one particularly interested in YA novels, I'm curious about her intentions.  Let's be clear: I'm grieving, not upset that she dared to kill off a main character that I truly enjoyed.  I was so proud of Tris for surviving the death serum.  Honestly, I didn't doubt that she would, and I felt it was a triumph that her will to live was so freaking strong.  Then she does what she has to (I think even at the end she was hoping she would survive the encounter, and I think she did the right thing in her actions), and she is finally taken down by a bullet.  After everything she's been through and the hope she embodied, I wanted her to be alive to spread it.  It seems so sad for the entire society that one of the people who was trying so hard to raise herself and those around her up to a be better people would die.  Also, I just wanted Four and Tris to have the chance to be happy together.  They never really knew a time when they weren't in some kind of conflict, and it just makes me really sad.  I'm going to quote a paragraph here that is the main reason it makes me sad:  "I fell in love with him.  But I don't just stay with him by default as if there's no one else available to me.  I stay with him because I choose to, every day that I wake up, every day that we fight or lie to each other or disappoint each other.  I choose him over and over again, and he chooses me."  I really like that definition of love, and I would have liked it to have the chance to blossom. 

Okay, rant over.  Next blog post will return to our regularly scheduled anecdotes of my daily life.

Monday, October 7, 2013

Expect the unexpected.

It finally happened.  Just like during my last pregnancy, I've had some serious nasal issues this time.  Every morning and at least one other time during the day, I get into this sneezing marathon.  My nose starts running, and I get all stuffy.  There are tissue boxes in every room of my house.  Including the basement.  Just in case.  There exists a pregnancy phenomenon that I had heard of but never experienced prior to this week.  There's even a word for it, at least on the Bump forums, namely: snissing.  This is a combination of sneezing and peeing (or more likely, pissing).  It's when you leak a little when you sneeze.  Luckily, it only happened to me on the way to the bathroom with a very full bladder.  It didn't change my reaction though.  It was a kind of horrified wonder, like: so, that's what that's like.  To be completely honest, it happened twice.  Both on the way to the bathroom.  I'm hoping it doesn't happen again, but I've learned to expect the unexpected and prepare accordingly.  I don't have picture evidence of any of this, since I know you weirdos are hoping for some blackmail material (not very effective blackmail material considering I just shared the story with the entire internet).

In other messy news, I took D with me to the grocery store today (as per usual), and he really wanted to hold the kiwis we were buying.  I figured they were three for a dollar so even if he makes them all squishy I won't be out much money.  Also, he was crying loudly.  Decision made: I let him hold the bag of kiwis.  He made short work of pulling three of the four kiwis out of the bag and lining them up on the metal tray thing in the front of the cart.  I hid the last kiwi because I wanted at least one to eat.  This turned out to be a wise decision.  We made it maybe five minutes before he started banging the kiwi on the metal bars.  He listened the first time I told him not to do it, but his obedience lasted less than a minute.  As soon as we entered the meat section, he started banging away again.  This time, he used the metal bars and his head.  I picked up some ground beef, and when I turned back to face him, the kiwi was flattened on one side.  I immediately took it away (he didn't care, he had two more to play with), but he'd already smashed it into pulp on the bottom.  I turned away to throw the ruined kiwi into a conveniently placed trash can, and when I turned back, he'd done it to another kiwi.  Clearly, I needed a better solution.  I took away both the newly smashed kiwi and the remaining fairly-whole kiwi this time.  After tossing his second victim, I realized that he'd used the metal bars as a sort of very blunt blender.  There were flecks of kiwi all over the bottom of the tray, his pants, his shoes, my pants, the cart, and finally, my purse, which I had mistakenly thought was safe under the cart and out of his reach.  Luckily (I've been pretty lucky this week if you look at it all squinty-eyed), we were still standing in the meat section next to a trash can and a roll of paper towels for people who couldn't collect their bloody meat in a civilized manner.  I cleaned all the smooshed kiwi off of us and the cart, and moved on.  D thought the whole situation was hilarious.  Since he was laughing instead of throwing a tantrum because I took away his squishy fruit toys, I considered it a win for the side of good.  I didn't realize until I tried to drive home facing the setting sun that my sunglasses had taken the brunt of the kiwi splatter.  It was a good thing I was already looking at the situation squinty-eyed because I couldn't see through the glop.  Squinting made it possible to drive home.