A (1st) Baby Story...

It is said, and widely known, that pregnancy and childbirth are the greatest 'joys' of a woman's life...every mom has similar stories...but here is mine...the first of THREE.
(I am mainly writing this in case of the onset of early Alzheimer's)
I was a bit freaked out when I found out I was pregnant with 'Baby #1'...
What a cruel joke that my body was actually gonna have to do what it was designed to do---and reproduce! Don't get me wrong---I was psyched!...and scared out of my wits...no more 'tomboy' for 40 weeks, at least.
The ultimate first 'cruel joke' was the 'pregnancy test'...seriously.
Peeing on a stick? huh? Now you boys have extreme control over your 'urine flow'...I know this bc my son has demonstrated his 'pen(is)manship' in the snow---impressive! However, back in 1994, those things were NOT what they are today...let us leave it at that. It came out 'positive'...or at least it had two lines on it...which according to the directions meant 'pregnant'...
I told my cat, Jesse, first bc a.) he was right there and b.)my husband (now X) was out partying with friends...I told him when he got home...(he said '...cool.' and went straight to bed...by himself I might add.)
I went to my OB/GYN doc soon after the lovely 'stick test' just to double check.
...and was relieved that in fact, no, they don't do a 'kill-the-rabbit' test any more!...Instead they do an 'ultrasound'...cool! I thought...a little gel on my tummy, and I'll see the baby...uh. NO! My doc whips out this wand-like thing---that hummed like Darth Vaders lightstick...YIKES! Turns out you don't get the 'fun' (non-invasive) ultra sound until later...
I was 'ill' for the next 22 weeks.
We lived in a duplex with a shared vent system at the time. My neighbor liked to cook onions and liver late at night...enough said. BLLLEEECCHHHK!
For some reason, the only thing that made me actually 'hurl' was grape juice---still can't drink it.
(wine? yes I can...)
So then I hit the 'cute pregnant' weeks....aw, how cute!
A basketball stomach and 'full luscious' bosoms...eeewah. Don't get me wrong...as an artist and illustrator I can appreciate a beautiful 'decollete'...but not with the expanding stomach to match.For the first time in my life I had cleavage...to me it was like having two ginormous water balloons strapped to my chest...they were heavy and jiggly...again, I say 'eeewaahhh!'
My body was out of my control...
I was gaining weight hand over fist. I craved homemade onion dip (the kind you make with soup mix) and chocolate milkshakes.
I did find out what I was having---a girl! Cool! I knew what to do with a girl...
I remember telling my then sister-in-law that I was having a girl...and she said,'I hate you.'...and she meant it! (She has 4 boys...karma?Of course, poor thing, only has one ovary...bless her heart.)
That was pretty much the end of our 'friendship.'
After the 'cute pregnant' stage I realized that my fingers were turning into sausages and my face was swolt up like a bad bloat from Chinese food...my lips were so big, I could hardly form words toward the end...again, I say,'attractive'!
(No wonder the song 'Brick House' was in a continuous loop in my head...)
I wore my running shoes from the time I got up in the morning until I went to bed...hoping that some sort of foot binding would keep my feet in check...plus, it was hard to tie my shoes!
Fast forward to July 13th, 1995...
It had been 100 degrees plus that week...and it did not help with my bloated orca-ness...
Mom came up to see the 'King and I' at Mill Mt. Theatre with me...my baby shower was the next night...
All during the performance I sat in the aisle...or rather laid down in the aisle bc I was so uncomfortable...we got home later...and my water broke! (HOLY CRAP!)
I was not due for 4 more weeks!
My (X) husband got home from a night out with the boys (wearing a sombrero I must add) at 2 a.m...
I had been laboring for 3 hours.When I told him it was 'go time'...he swayed and said...'cool.'
I was trying to figure out how the heck to time contractions...all that info from birthing classes? Out the window.
My X went and took a nice hot shower...'to wake up'.
As the steam tumbled from the bathroom, I was doubled over in pain watching the timing device.
X exited his 'invigorating' shower,and he casually got fully dressed---including shoes and baseball hat---and got in the bed and ...went to sleep...!!!!
(If only I could have shot poison darts from my eyes...)
So, I labored all night by myself...mom was a nervous wreck and I could not focus with her in the room...my cats kept me company, and 'chirpy purred' when I was going through contractions.
Finally around 630 a.m., I could not take it any more... I called my doc (my back door neighbor) and he said 'come on in'...and started giggling...???
I roused the sleeping 'prince' and he stumbled to the car...I lumbered down the 27 steps, of our house on a hill, to the car...by myself thank you...and we were off.
X added, quite comically,as we got on the road, that 'wow...I'm still drunk!'...and all I could think of was 'oh great...DUI on the way to the hospital...' PERFECT! He drove in the wrong direction in to the hospital driveway and dropped me off...I registered...and said 'gimme all the drugs you have for pain, and keep'em comin'!' (I was already a 'nurses favorite'...) I am HILARIOUS under stress!
They wheeled me up to my room...gave me a 'sexy little cotton number' gown to put on and said,'we'll be back'...I felt really really really alone.
However I did not have time to think about it bc...here came another lovely contraction...breathe breathe breathe....
I waited and waited and thought and thought and thought.
Geez. I hope I don't have to have a Csection---saw the video on Discovery Channel...I did not want my innards flopped up on my stomach, sewn back together, and then stuffed back in my body like a turkey on Thanksgiving...ah...food...I had not eaten anything since lunch the day before...I was hungry...the woozy kind of hungry. The 'I will kill for food' kind of hungry.
My labor nurse finally arrived with tubes, machines,needles, IV's...everything but a Mariacci Band---which would have been a nice touch at this point.
Eventually, my X made it to the room---oh joy.
He was thrilled to find out that the chair tilted back and made a bed...and he laid down and took a nap.
My doc---who I adored (X Navy fighter pilot--what's not to love?) came to see me later in the a.m....I could do this...he was there!
The next couple hours were filled with measuring, monitoring, and breathing...and wishing I could eat some food...
During the 'down time' my X went to the cafeteria and ate...and even brought a bag o doritos, and a cup of coffee, back to the room...I made him go out in the hall to eat and drink---'dragon lady' (me) was hungry and thirsty!
The nurse, a sweetheart and my companion, checked me...which for you guys out there, the only way I could describe it to you...(bc you guys don't have 'cha-cha's)' is like having someone shove a softball up your 'pooper shooter'(ok? Nuff said)
I finally got to the point where I could not take the pain anymore.
I am very stoic about pain, and have a high thresh hold---but I was about to pass out.
(People who give birth w/out pain meds are masochistic.)
Finally, the Anesthesiologist (sp?) (aka: Dr. 'I'm late for my golf weekend') showed up and (hurriedly and painfully) administered the epidural---I now know what it feels like to have an ice pick stabbed in to your spinal column.
My X collapsed on the floor and almost fainted during the procedure. Nice.
I rested...and waited...and could not feel my legs...seriously thought of getting a tattoo...Why not? I would not feel it, and it would have been a great diversion...2 birds, one stone and all.
Cute nurse recommended pitosin(sp) to 'get the party started'...once the drug was administered my body said,'oh hell yeah! let's do this!'....
Funny, the nurse had to fetch the X out in the hall...and then in came Dr. JetFighterPilotHeroOBGYN
(cue Indiana Jones Music.)
They wheeled in the 'french fry light' bassinet---it looks like the thing at Mickey D's that warms the fries---a couple more nurses, big spotlights, and a big HUGE mirror!...????
I asked them what that was for, and they said 'so you can watch the birth'...ARE YOU KIDDING ME?
No thanks!...they wheeled that thing outta there like a monkey on roller skates...FAST!
I started pushing---the best part of that was when I got to 'rest' and breathe the oxygen....aaahhhhh.
ok...ready...PUSH...everyone was counting to 10....and I was getting the giggles! It was so ridiculous!
I made everyone stop counting...thanks. I can count to 10.
Plus the coffee/dorito breath from the X was KILLING me...
He did attempt to go see what was going on 'below' and I about ripped his arm outta socket...'HERE! HERE! HERE! At my HEAD!!!!'
I know some people are all in to watching the head come out...but not me...and certainly not anyone but a doc or nurse...I have a vivid imagination...and the visual was just too much...really.
Turns out girl baby's cord was around her neck...tense moments as Dr. Wonderful cut it off her neck...then she finally came out...and was not making any noise...Dr. Wonderful put his hand on mine and said, 'it's ok...she's ok...'
They suctioned her throat out and she FINALLY finally cried---relief to say the least. She was 4 weeks early and Doc. Wonderful had said from the 'git go' that she may have breathing problems...
But she was fine...all 6 lbs. 14 oz. of her beautifulness. So after 15 hours of labor,Courtney Virginia Breakell was finally here....
Then I thought: NOW what?
She was the first newborn I had ever held...I knew nothing...I felt like the girl in Gone With the Wind" 'Miss Scawlett! Miss Scawlett---I dont know nothin about birthin no babies!!!!'
(I had to slap myself!)
A couple hours after Courtney was born, my X went to my baby shower--- and she and I were alone...really alone...no one came to see us...and the nurses were 'busy'....
ummmmmmmm. yeah.
Meanwhile, at my baby shower, everyone was partying it up! My X sister in law and her friends even opened ALL---yup ALL---of the baby gifts!
Back at the hospital, Courtney and I were just 'hangin' out...they brought me food from the cafeteria...meat loaf, gravy, instant mashed potatoes, and collards. I almost hurled at the smell. I survived off pudding cups and jello---and cranberry juice.
Plus, for some reason, maintenance decided they needed to switch out the phone and reinstall wiring at midnight...???
This hillbilly, mountain freak, nurse would not coach me on the whole 'feeding' issue with this new baby...she kept saying,'aw, huunney, it shoold come natchrully too yooo...'
(well, guess what Gertrude? I am clueless! I am not a frickin' dog!)
I also had never changed a diaper...I know!
(But given the school I went to, I never had time to baby sit...so, again, I knew NOTHING!)
...Obviously I figured things out because Courtney and I made it through the next hours, days, months... 13 years...and my 'baby' will be 14 this summer!!!!...'OMG'!!!!
So that's 'Baby #1'...stay tuned for the tale of 'Baby#2'...aka: 'Brick' the 9 pounder...oh yeeeaaahhh!

Fashion 'Fox Paws'

Today I was at work...madly changing mannequins, steaming garments, fluffing, and schmootzing the windows...sweating my fanny off carrying around 50-60 lb bustforms and hoisting them on to shelves above my head.
In walks this woman with a bag...
Since I was obviously busy, she says:
'Pardon me...do you have any denim that matches this jacket?'
She produces a mildly attractive denim jacket with embroidery on it...and she wants 'denim jeans to match'...aka: the 'denim jumpsuit'.
What? Is it 1982 again?
Putting on my 'stage smile', I guided her in the direction of a sales associate...trying with all my might NOT to roll my eyes.
I know I am not a fashion maven in my daily wardrobe of jeans, a fleece, and my Danskos...but come ON!
Get with it people!
NO NO NO. You do not, and I repeat, do NOT wear matching denim head to toe.
I used to live in the mountains of southwest Virginia...and the uniform there was the acid wash denims (circa 1983) and the darker wash denim jacket...BLUH!
(Not to mention the really bad curly perms,Jersey Mall bangs, hot pink lipstick, and fake nails...'hot'!)
Throw in a pair of neon pink pumps and watch my head explode.
I am a fashion designer by degree, and a stylist by trade.
Please stop trying to 'match' denim...or 'match' anything for that matter.
If ya want to look like a grown up 'Giranimal'....go to Talbots.
(No offense Talbot's.)

My Apologies...

I am writing to all yall who are my 'friends' on Facebook.
I am apologizing for my frequent,and yes, possibly, annoying, continuous 'status updates'...and my YouTube music benders...and my NY Times article posts....and all my causes...which I wave flags and banners for.
But maybe...just maybe, I can get you to see where I am coming from....
I am home...a lot...caring for a 5 year old, fabulously, fantastic, highly active---and motivated---chatty and creative child.
I adore her!
However, there are no 'grown ups' in my home right now....so, 'grown up' conversations are limited to sparse phone calls and emails.
...and yes, I do have a lot of out of town friends who I keep in touch with on Facebook.(This is what happens when one goes to 3 different colleges---including studying in Paris France---and has lived in 5 different cities in 20 years.)
(Bear (bare?) with me here...)
I update my status so much because I am tired of talking to myself. Seriously.
And the dog is NO help---and my cat...???? Well, enough said.
My kids---all 3 of them---think my talking to myself is funny...not 'weird' funny...just funny.
I throw out a thought on 'FB' thinking, there has got to be another mom, or whomever, out there...thinking the same thing...or at least there to 'chime in'...
So again, thank you to my FB pals who tolerate me...and to all yall that think I am 'over the top'...go ahead and adjust your 'privacy settings'....
(but then again, the ones who have already done this won't get this message...hmmm. Maybe I should actually send REAL notes through 'snail mail'?)
Hahahaha!....(Nahhh.)

'What she got herself in to...'

How well do you know your neighbors?
How about your close friends?

Behind the closed doors, and happy appearances, of many households, Domestic Violence raises it's ugly head and spreads it's venom.
Rich, poor, middle class, white, green, black,educated, non-educated...it does not discriminate.
Maybe you do not think so, but it IS everywhere...and it DOES effect everyone.
Spurred on by alcohol abuse, alcoholism, or depression...it knocks everyone involved off their axis.
It may start as a slimy verbal assault, or physical bullying.
It slithers in and contaminates the ears of the children in the room...
It wraps itself into a coil of passive aggressive behavior and emotional neglect.
It breaks hearts,crushes dreams...and shatters homes.
It spreads fear and anguish...it smothers Love.
No child should witness a man raise a violent hand to a woman---ever.
No child should ever hear verbal abuse.
It is unacceptable. It is illegal.
It is the 'deal breaker.'
Many may think 'domestic violence' means a man punching a woman's lights out...or slamming her against the wall rendering her unconscious. All those films where the man says,'I'm gonna kill you Louise if you ever tell any one about this!'...(cut to scene where she flees the house with the baby,the clothes on her back, and she lights his car on fire for good measure.)
Another misconception about 'DV' is that the woman 'got herself in to that mess'.
'Yup. Always knew that Earl was nuts...she musta made him real mad.'
SERIOUSLY?
I don't think any woman marries a man and says, 'gee, I hope he hits me on a regular basis, threatens me,treats me like a captive, and calls me 'f*cking stupid' in front of our kids!'
I live in a state where in the past few years there have been many more heinous DV acts towards women.Instead of just divorcing the wife,and moving on, the husband felt the need to take it one step further.
One pregnant woman was killed in her home---while her two year old slept in the other room. Another mother suddenly 'disappeared',her house 'mysteriously' caught on fire...and they found her body in a field later. One woman went for a morning jog, never returned, and her body was discovered at an abandoned construction site.
All were killed by their husbands.
Friends and families of these women---from 'well-to-do' neighborhoods---were shocked.
Yes. Domestic Violence is everywhere.
Many women live in homes, and stay where they are, out of denial.
'I am educated...professional...I have kids!'
Maybe so...but DV is a 'disease' in our world that does NOT discriminate.
If you yourself are stuck in a 'situation', or you know someone who is, there ARE actions to be taken...Help is out there.
First of all,talk to your/their friends.
Document everything. Take pictures.Journal.
Have a plan...even if you/they never think it will happen to YOU/THEM---have a plan.
(Why not keep a change of clothes in your car---you never know when a kid's gonna hurl on you---right?)
If you/they do have to flee...find a safe place to be.
(It is advisable to leave a note, or contact the spouse, letting them know you/they are safe and have the children---otherwise, you/they could be accused of kidnapping.)
Call the police immediately when you/they have arrived at the 'safe place'---a report must be filed as soon as possible.
(No, do not wait until morning...do it NOW.)
Hopefully you can have someone with you, if you have kids, because you will have to talk to an officer...and that is scary for them to see. Having a friend there creates a good diversion.
Contact an attorney as soon as possible.
Follow their advice to the 'T'.
(Many victims of DV are in denial---'I can handle this', 'it will get better','I'll give it one more shot'...sometimes a great friend just needs to take action and control!)
If you/they are advised to file a Domestic Violence Restraining order---DO IT!
(You/they could end up as one of the women in a ditch...and then where would your/their kids be?)
A friend who recently went through this, was lucky enough to have her attorney's help with the filing.
However, if you/they do this alone, don't be afraid to ask questions.
In DV cases, there are people available to help....and explain what will happen next.

I am thankful that my friend, and her kids and pets, are now safe...and she has hope...she is not afraid anymore. She is 'alive' again...

'That's Not My...Name.'

(Love that song by the Ting-Tings.)
I do love my 'given' name.
Powerful.
Historic.
Mine.
'Katherine'---means 'pure' in Greek.(My family is Greek.)
Also,my mom was reading the book 'Katherine' when I was born. I was almost 'Shannon'...and 'Zerelda'...'Cartina' was in the mix as well.
My middle name is the name of a great grandfather...and a famous TV show.
My last name? Well, let's just say, when 'Braveheart' came out...I was very very proud of the family clan. ('I AM WILLIAM WALLACE!')By God, we even have our own plaid!
And also, I am the last of the Wallace clan in my family.(So,there.)
I did pass the name on in my daughter....so all is not lost.
I have been married twice, and (unwillingly)assumed my spouses names.
The first was impossible to spell, and was confused with 'Breakwell'...'Breaknell'...'Brickle'...'Bricknell'...'Brickell' (as in 'Edie Brickell and the New Bohemians'.)etc. Not only did I have to spell my FIRST name (all the time)...but my last as well.
I 'wisely' chose my second husband because his name started with a 'B'...and I would not have to change my monogram stationary.
However, his name has caused much consternation, as I have had to spell it continuously.
My first name: Katherine.
How many different ways can one spell a single name?
'Katherine'...with a 'K'...and, no, it does not pass my gaze every time I see Listerine...Katherine...nice.
My grandmother had a charm made for her bracelet that said 'Kate' when I was first born.
'Kate' does not bother me...as in : 'Kiss me, Kate.'
BUT...I hate it when people call me 'Kathy'...that's not my name. It's Katherine...and people are a bit 'stand-off-ish' when I correct them.
I am Katherine Wallace. I always WILL be Katherine Wallace.
Six years of Design School...a lifetime of achievements...3 kids...I AM Katherine Wallace! (And, my social security card says so as well!---I have never changed it.)
Next time around...I will hyphenate.
(Just sayin.)

Men In Line Buying Flowers at the Grocery...

I always get a bit of a chuckle when I see a man in line at the grocery, with a bouquet of flowers in his hand. He's standing there in his sweats, or business suit, head down, maybe slightly embarrassed?
I wonder.
What did he do?
What is he trying to make up for?
Too many late nights at the office while his wife handles 2 kids under the age of 4, while 'baking' yet another heir to the throne in her belly?
Maybe it's their anniversary...and she insists on red roses every year.
Perhaps he forgot her birthday, and is trying to make it up to her?
Maybe he hopes to 'get some' by bringing her a single red rose?
Did she just give birth? (That is a no-brainer, boys. Ya bring her flowers ASAP!)
I love flowers.
I have been a floral designer, and perennial gardener, for, (good Lord), 20 years.
Wedding bouquets, mantle pieces, floral wreaths....centerpieces. Landscape design...etc.
Flowers are alive...they are intricate sculptures of God's imagination...and if they are fragrant? Ahhh...all the better.
Flowers are selfless. They have sacrificed their lives to bring joy.
Flowers bring joy. They can't help it.
When someone is given flowers, watch their face light up.
Maybe their eyes will tear up...
(Guys, score big points and send them to her at work where she has an audience.)
All the same, flowers bring joy.
If I were a man, I would bring flowers to my gal all the time...
It wouldn't matter what day, or occasion, it was. Second Tuesday of every month? Whatever.
I would never let the ones in the vase fade away before bringing in replacements.
Flowers bring life in to any home.
I am actually not picky about flowers.
My favorites are anything that looks like they were picked from a meadow....and anything fragrant.
Gardenias (Heaven Scent...and sent from God), Star Gazer Lilies...Casa Blancas...daisies (though not fragrant) are just plain happy flowers to look at!
I am not a fan of the roses.
Being a gardener, roses are too high maintenance...and they die off quickly.
Give me some good 'ol hydrangea blossoms, some lavender,phlox, daisies, and a lily to add fragrance...delightful.
Boys, make your gal happy, and bring her flowers 'just because'....it is the foundation of love.
Don't wait for a 'special occasion'...everyday is special...and so is she.
(Just sayin'.)

It's been lovely, but....

I really have to SCREAM now!

I was recently hired by a national retail store to be a Visual Merchandiser...something I am MORE than qualified to be.
I don't make 'squat' as far as cash on the barrel head, but I love to Merchandise, and I do love my mannequins.
The 'Company' has recently made cut-backs.
So, I am delegated to the sales floor. Yuck.
I do enjoy helping people get themselves 'together'....however, as a Designer, it grates my nerves when someone holds up a pair of black pants and says: 'what goes with this?' (seriously?)
Tonight I worked 7 hours...on my feet, running my ass off because they have cut back on floor staff.
Whatever. I am working because I have to pay bills...not because it is 'fun' and I can buy clothes at a discount. OK?
But tonight, people were kinda patronizing to me....and it ticked me off.
I want to make a button to wear at work that says:
'I have a Bachelor Of Fine Arts in Fashion Design. I went to school for 6 years. I studied in Paris at Parson's School of Design. No, this is NOT my first choice of jobs right now. I have my own Jewelry Design Company, and THAT is what I want to be doing right now. However, my husband was laid off his job in August...and I HAVE to work this retail job so I can pay bills, pay child support to my Xhusband who makes over $100,000 a year. And to top it off, I have no health insurance. I am not here working this 'menial job' because it is my 'passion'...I am here because if my 5 year old gets sick, we have to pay out-of-pocket.Somehow, I have to put food on the table. And, guess what? I'd rather be at home putting my 5 year old to bed, and snuggling up with her, than folding down 500 articles of clothing, or digging through boxes to find your petite medium turtleneck!'
However, I don't think that would 'fly' with company policy.
I am more than thankful for my 'job'....however, I really wish people would see us 'retail sales people'...as PEOPLE.
Next time you are in a store, please be nice to the person helping you. Everyone has a story...and everyone deserves kindness.