Cabin Notes - March 20

A wee little rant.

Here’s an unhinged rant about the things people have said to me during my pregnancy that I have recorded and filed in a folder in my brain called “I hate this person”. 

I want you to know I wrote this when I was in a really perky mood. I was having a good day and drinking a delicious beverage and had just completed a freelance assignment. This was not hormonally informed and if anyone reads this and thinks it was, you can write yourself onto the list. :)  

You get the baby you need

I’m sorry, but what? First, this is just a thing to say. It’s not provable or true or based on anything other than the person-saying-it’s desire to comfort themselves. Imagine going up to some parents with a newborn who needs open heart surgery and being like, “you get the baby you need! You needed this lesson in fear and humility! This’ll teach you to ever be happy!” The baby you need. I went to an event at the library and a woman said this to me and I went full Dakota Johnson on her.

Are you so excited?

I know I wrote a whole essay on this, but would it kill someone to just ask how I’m feeling instead of asking if I’m feeling how they’re feeling? Instead of projecting an emotion onto me that then I have to be the asshole when I’m like, “sorry no, not exactly pumped up about what’s about to be the most painful experience of my life that leads into weeks of wearing diapers while I change someone else’s.” I know I said I would be a good girl and just follow the societal script but I changed my mind. It’s more fun to just say no and see the look on people’s faces.

You’ll need to make them a sibling!

My response has now escalated. I can be polite to “you get the baby you need” with a gentle laugh and an “I don’t know about that, haha” and I can pull my best Wednesday Addams when someone asks “are you excited” as I blithely say no, but when someone tells me that I need to or should make this baby a sibling, I absolutely lose my mind. 

One time, in a meeting at an old job with about 30 people, including some leadership, one of those leadership members called me Kelly. He didn’t get my name wrong. He was shortening Kelton to Kelly to message to the room our budding camaraderie. I liked this man. I still like this man! But no one, and I mean no one, gets to call me Kelly. 

“Don’t ever call me that again,” it was out of my mouth so fast there wasn’t a spare reality where I didn’t say it. It wasn’t loud or angry. It wasn’t quiet or sad. It was a Japanese knife through a sheet of paper, a clean slice, an evisceration. You could hear the air sucked out of the room as eyes widened and people bit their lips in respect and the sheer delight of someone being so purely and utterly unafraid of consequences. 

Because of course there weren’t any. He immediately apologized, more than once, and no one ever called me anything but Kelton there ever again. 

Anyway, this is how I react when people tell me kids need siblings. They don’t. 

How’s baby?

How’s THE baby. How is THE. BABY. Absolutely bonkers how many people walk around saying “how’s baby feeling” and “what’s baby up to?” and “how does baby like it?” IT’S THE BABY. I feel sorry for the next person that says this to me because there’s simply no stopping me from being like, “Fetus is fucking love it, Barbra.” 

Anyway, I’m doing fine

Reading

• Why don’t crows pick up trash?

• Here’s what it’s like to get a colonoscopy

• The Cybertruck is an embarrassment

• Wait, what is color analysis?

• The phones are obviously the problem

• Anxiety, so American

• Elon Musk is not a genius

• Your nightlight could be a houseplant

• Get your stress test

Watching

Well, I watched this video about how cinnamon is grown.

I also started watching The Gentlemen on Netflix. Aside from the fact that Theo James is simply too good looking to be British Aristocracy, I am loving it. Worth noting I’m a pretty big Guy Ritchie fan to begin with, so this one was sort of in the bag. One of my favorite movies of the past year was the criminally underrated Operation Fortune: Ruse de Guerre. Poorly titled, great fun. 

Listening

Kacey Musgraves’s new album, Deeper Well

Hoping

We got a call from the vet at 6pm last night — not something I’d say is the norm. They close at 5. I was worried something came up after Link and Jib’s visit this week, but this call wasn’t about us. Another cat in the area has FIP, and they wanted to know if we had any of the medication left. Of course we did. We had extra and kept it for exactly this scenario. So this week my hopes go to that cat, after my semi-clandestine drug drop at the end of our road this morning.

Practicing

Facial massage. It’s my very intentional slow down time, and I very much enjoy it. 

Not Buying

We don’t have a full set of guest towels. We have a guest room that our family and friends stay in with somewhat frequency, and every time a couple comes, we don’t have a set of towels for them. They either get bleach splattered gray towels that match, or mismatched frayed towels. Why does this bother me. They’re towels! They’re clean! But there’s just something mature and hotel-like about being like, “here, these towels were washed by elves and then gently wafted in the breeze. They’re made of afternoons in soft grass where the dappled sun reaches through the leaves to kiss your cheeks. They dry as fast as cotton candy disappears in your mouth. No one has ever used them before or ever will again.” 

But we don’t have those towels. And given how many people seem keen to come stay with us when there’s an additional towel ruining gremlin in the house, I feel like we should have those towels, instead of the towels that have been used for the past several years to wipe up dog piss and cat vomit. 

I turned to Reddit. How many towels should a person have? I love Reddit because there’s always a person that’s like “one towel, wash it when dirty” and another person who’s like “well I have seven face wash towels, one for each day of the week, and I have five shower towels, one for each time I shower…” Useless. Instead I’d like to know: what’s your towel supply, and even better, who makes the best towels?

Symptom of the Week

I’ll have you know I passed the glucose test with flying colors: 83 mg/dl, and may I never need to know any details about what that means. Unfortunately good news comes with bad: I have costochondritis! Also known as inflamed cartilage in the ribs and “rib flare” which should be a dish at TGIFriday’s and is instead the reason I can’t do anything without being in pain! 

Before relatives start calling me, I’ll say that costochondritis is just pain. It’s not a complication or a problem, it’s just pain. Which also means that in our incredible healthcare system, the solution is “just deal with it.” So I get to deal with it for the rest of my pregnancy. 

Can you tell I’m starting to hate this. 

Unsolicited Opinion

Everyone should get one free pass at driving their car up one of those runaway truck ramps. 

Tiny Delight

Canceling my Whoop membership. Ah the sweet joys of canceling things. May I recommend a little unsubscribing from your own day. 

Tiny Horror

AI Crockpot