Bourgie [boo-zhee]=Stemming from the French word bourgeoisie. Someone who is class-conscious, with educated and discerning tastes, and interested in enjoying the finer things in life. It is definitely not high-class, aristoratic, snooty, or snobbish. “Bourgie” is as much an idea, and a state of mind, as it is an attitude towards enjoying good food, good friends, and good conversation, everyday. It evokes a mood of simple elegance, casual yet sophisticated—modern (taken from UrbanDictionary.com).
*Post was originally intended on being posted December 16, 2007*
That having a child will bring you closer to death. Those sentiments are strongly resonating with me, seeing that I have to check into the hospital for "monitoring". One of my worst fears has popped up in the final weeks of my third trimester: gestational diabetes...
You'd think I was going on a spa visit the way my doctor was putting it: "You'll be checking in and we'll feed you a special diet and we'll be monitoring you, if things don't get better, we may try some insulin, ya know...probably will take about 24 hours...it'll be fine."
I'm not really worrying b/c I can't really blame myself...this shit just popped up. Look how sad I was at the hospital for my 3 day stint (it seemed endless):
OK...I know I have grossly neglected this blog since August, but, OH (holding forehead in a graceful Southern belle manner), what challenges and obstacles I have faced. Shall I share?
Sure. As I sit here at 31 weeks, and a baby's noggin rustling against my ribs (uh, yeah, I can feel it in the most pronouned way), I am having difficulty typing with my right hand b/c my baby is conspicuously moving my arm with every movement. Since August, my belly has doubled in size, gained 7 lbs. (amazing!), and people are just realizing that I'm pregnant and I'm about to drop this load in a few weeks. I think I have pulled off the greatest secret reveal without revealing anything!! Just call me Moodini...
Anywho, the hub and I found out we were having a bouncing baby girl back in September. She will be dubbed Audrey Pearl of the Griggs Clan, so Lil Bug turned into Ladybug, and gathered a few other nicknames from family: Bug Ann (my Aunt), Lil Henrietta (my Aunt, again - what's up with her), Noodle (me, after feeling like she was all up in my guts), Oddie (me again - just a play on Audrey)...so who knows who she will be called when it's all said and done. When I look back at the roster of all my nicknames (Mookie, Macadamia Nut, Moo Cow, Mackie, Hell Mel) as well as my siblings (Sunshine, Funky London*, Pup, Puppy Dog, Diver Dan, Booter) and parents (Blind Melon Jelly, Bull, Wompy Cat), I can't help but to think that my new little person is about to be heralded into a time honored tradition of mis-naming. And we will love her just as she is (I watched Bridget Jones this weekend).
I hated my doctor but then grew to like her after a succession of awkward appointments.
I had to get an amniocentesis when they believed my Noodle had Trisomy 18 (very scary shit).
I had to stand flat footed with my director who clearly isn't ready to deal with a professional and outspoken woman...the details are too numerous to account here, but let's just say I came out victorious.
I managed to work my ass off and still was able to come to work 97% of the time despite the usual accoutrements of pregnancy.
I managed to put a registry together, which I am not sure if people will honor. I never really got registries b/c people never give you what you "want" on them. And originally, I put together a book registry for my babe but was met with resistance...humans are odd pieces of work.
Cravings Report:
It's all about the Milky Way caramels! So relaxing...
The third trimester has brought on some very unhealthy snacks, but I still attempt to keep it healthy so I can maintain my womanish Amazonian figure (bump the girlish one).
Other than that, I've been discovering more and more how appalling the world has become. For instance 2 Girls 1 Cup...I won't even provide a link to it, but I will give you a video of folks reactions:
So today is my good friend's Ashley's birthday but I will not share her age. She might want to fight me. But her age is such an attestment to our generation: reaching the Big 3-0. Oops, I let it slip! Here I am, 28 with my first child and many have wondered why I have waited so long. When is the right time to have a child? Those folks who question me on why I waited so long, did they wait for the right age and are they still convinced that their children are a blessing to them, despite their "ratchet" and dysfunctional ways and means. Yes, I have picked up on some new lingo today. Bourgie or not, I am selective in my music and every once in a while when I've grown tired of my CD playlist or don't have my XM Radio in the car, I must suffer through Clearchannel Communications negotiations of what they feel are R&B/Hip Hop/Urban Adult Contemporary. Since late last year, I've been hearing of this rapper named Lil Boosie, who from the sound of their voice, I just knew it was this big chic reminiscent of Lady Rage (some of you might be too young to remember). But, no, just a lanky brother from Baton Rouge with a strange sinusy tone who claims we all got some ratchet in us...
His notoriety is surely building and certainly so if the New York Times did a piece on him. Kalefa Sanneh wrote this pretentiously objective piece which had my friend Ashley and I giggling hysterically. Don't get me wrong, I love hip hop like the next person but for some reason I just can't give it up to a rapper who some feel has a conscious Machiavellian take on the world. I can just imagine Lil Boosie getting his next rap together with the word "Machiavelli" in it. Anyway, you can tell that this journalist, Sanneh, is really trying to break down the particulars and alienness of hip hop to their readers by explaining one of Lil Boosie's partners name, Untame Mayne: “Mayne” is regional slang for “man,” but his verse isn’t as marvelous as his stage name. Despite his inability to spell man correctly and is a subpar rapper, Sanneh has clearly delineated his skills and colloquial knack to the very practicality of his name - merely untame. Ouch!
Read on for yourselves:
Inevitably, Lil Boosie steals the show with a wonderfully shrill, sing-song verse. He cheerfully salutes a money-making mother in the club: “She got ’bout nine children, but she be makin’ ’fetti/But I can’t talk ’bout li’l mama ’cause I got three already.” And in the chorus, he sums up the state of the world: “He ratchet, she ratchet/Man, we all got some ratchet in us.” Visit myspace.com/lilboosieratchetbadazz to hear it. All of this raises an obvious question. And on Tuesday night, during a visit to the Atlantic Records office in Midtown, Lil Boosie was happy to provide an answer, of a sort. What does ratchet mean? He chuckled, then provided a few examples. “Outside, your car might be clean as a” — well, finish the simile yourself — “but junky inside. You might be Miss America, but with yellow teeth. Everybody got something wrong with ’em.”
Charming...
So, I say all of this to go back to my original issue of people deeming children as a blessing, but our rearing of them is clearly ratchet from the start...OK, that's my last time using that word. It just ain't me, playa!
They truly are. I've been battling them all week. My obgyn claims, comically, "you know, pregnant women get headaches." Isn't that a human condition...?
Anywho, still adjusting to the new job. I'll save my comments for personal and casual conversations with close friends at a secure time and place.
Lil Bug has been moving around so i've been feeling that butterfly fishy swimmy feeling. It's pretty cool. My belly is getting on out there. It's so time to go shopping for my maternity guise.
I'm allowing my Tylenol Rapid Release do their thing and I feel better than I did 12 minutes ago. I can imagine the little Acetaminophen Army who look like little muscle bound men stomping into my arteries and vessels, and when they get to their designated location, they stand resolute and hold out their muscle bound arms stretching out my vessels to allow adequate blood flow and release the tension building. Unfortunately, they just get pissed out when the job's done.
I talked to my brother from another mother, Toby1Kenobi today who always keeps me laughing - it came in handy this morning while I was sitting here bored at work. Me & Him have been having headaches of our own, particularly with haters - which is why I changed the bourgie song of the moment to Little Brother's "Hate". It's so right on time. I hate haterous mugs - such a waste of time and space. They always have hate for that. They hate on themselves because they hate themselves.
Anywho, headaches are a clear sign that you are fighting some type of adversity, whether biological or traitorous. I just have to remind myself of this: "But as for me, I will walk in mine integrity: redeem me, and be merciful unto me. My foot standeth in an even place..." - Psalms 27:11-12.
I have been smelling a grab bag of different foods lately.
My husband was talking with his hands yesterday, and I swore he secretly indulged in fresh boiled crab yesterday with out me.
While sitting in bed with him, chit chatting, I clearly smelled a fresh sheet cake with buttercream icing. It was so fresh. My chops runneth over...I have a day dreamy nose.
Anywho, sitting at work, bored as hell right now. I must say, I've had a bit of an attitude today. Self-imposed I must say; though I wonder if Lil Bug had anything to do with it. I was so tired this morning after sleeping for 9 hours interrupted (Halleleujah!). It was pretty rough for me. I was very whiney this morning. I surprised myself. Weepy from sleepiness, lethargic while eating breakfast, the dragginess of my heavy belly (he's only the size of a lemon yet I feel heavy), and a determined husband who can't rub my feet or show some compassion to his ailing and dying wife while he prepares for work...it was rough on me this morning.
Pregnancy does seem like some type of terminal illness. A little life/being sucking out all the nutrients and when you birthed them into the world, you could very well take the wrong road at the Crossroads (I faintly hear Bone, Thugs, and Harmony in my consciousness somewhere). My mama always told me you damn near die bringing a child into the world; but she supplicates the ugly truth by saying you forget all about it when they lay the baby on your chest. She has a knack for morbid sentimentality.
but yes, my attitude is very vulgar. I've placed a dark cloud over my cubby area, I glare at people when they talk to me, and I had the nerve to send an email to my director while he sat at his desk 7 feet away from me. The joy of being attitudish was squelched b/c he hasn't even checked the email yet...so I guess it does pay to send it b/c I would've forgotten to ask him by now. You know, this may be hormonal.
Anywho, my day dreamy nose, me, and Lil Bug will tarry off to no particular place. We're trapped in this joint for another 3 1/2 hours. Perhaps tomorrow will be a better day. peace Meme
OK...I returned to work today after having Friday off for a doctor's appointment, only to encounter a hotbox. Look at me...that is not a maternal glow all over my face. That is sweat. I'm sweating down my face, back, legs, boobs, feet...I'm looking at the thermostat and this joint has the nerve to say 87 degrees.
Well the other 1/3 found out yesterday and my director took the news as if I said, "Black people need to get it together." He was like "Sure. Sure. that's fine. Anyway..." and went on to the next subject. He proclaims he's a family man (going strong with 4) and was like, "Sure, no big deal." Imagine all of this in his Nigerian accent...he says "Sure" alot.
Anywho, I've spent the majority of my week tracking down organizations and movements to align ourselves with and making plenty of Excel spreadsheets. This bourgie baby is the king of lists! He's so brilliant. I wonder if babies really do add to your brilliance. Follow me in this segue...
So I was watching My Wife and Kids and Michael convinced Jr. that by touching his new baby, it made him smarter. Here's a snippet of that episode.
Updates with me:
Hmmm....dealing with itchy belly lately. Been using 7 Wonders Miracle Oil that can be used on your scalp, body, nails, hair, feet, bath, you can cook with it (kidding), think I saw something on there about hemorrhoids (kidding, again)...but it makes you wonder with those multi-purpose oils that are marketed to Black people. But it keeps me belly moisturized.
Been eating small portions because that's all I can really handle.
Love me some mangoes, especially the Dole frozen ones!
Tend to wake up at 2 or 3am...usually starving or just restless. I usually sit there for 2 hours and then I go back to sleep, only to hear my alarm go off in 30 minutes...time to get ready for work. Lil Bug, why are you doing this!!??
I go to bed at 8:30pm, like clock work, weekday and weekends...I"m missing so much of my Tivo time, it's ridiculous.
Lil Bug and I are enjoying work. We've adjusted to the commute and early rising. We just need our breakfast and snacks in between meals. It's all about cheddar making and we don't work at a cheese factory.
Well, I broke the news to 2/3 of my colleagues at work...only after one of them busted me out.
sitting at my desk this morn, 8:30ish, and I smell the hot, steamy, fresh out the grease smell of onion rings, particularly the onion rings from Sonic, and so I asked the office, "Does anybody else smell onion rings?" I mean, the smell was so clear. My colleague instantly gave me that raised eyebrow look with a smile and she was like "Something is wrong with you...you need to go to the doctor...soon!"
Women just know. Especially other mothers. They know. You can't hide it. I just knew they were going to bust me out in my first few days. Those tight slacks were a clear giveaway. But no...an innocent onion ring comment outed me.
Next step...telling my director! They reassured me it would be no big deal. I can't be fired thanks to that whole Family Act and some other laws I'm suspecting. How sad that had to be enacted. But me and this bourgie baby gotta make that cheddar...yes, this bourgie baby works too. He's the all new topic of discussion. He might as well have his own desk and/or cubbie.
Even though those onion rings were smelling good (were they really apart of my imagination?) I can't figure myself eating them right now. Luckily we're doing Chinese tonight (see previous entry "Ho Chi Mean Green").
Though I haven't seen the movie, in the midst of this pregnancy "debacle", I managed to get simpsonized. How odd that I was looking for a stiff big, with child, preggers simpsonized body. This was all I managed to muster up. A defensive stance simpsonized me...perhaps this pose minimizes my little belly...it does look like I"m hiding something. Anyhooters, what a quick weekend. My new pregnancy dope makes me extremely sleepy but I had to find that out after a 3 hour sleep stupor-coma. I rationalized enough to start taking it at night.
Had a bout with gas.
Had a bout with nausea.
Had a nightmare where an old woman with purple-red eyes told me to beware of Richard Werewolf. Whatever that means...
The usual.
Got some lower back pain right now from doing laundry...perhaps God is punishing me for doing chores on the Westernized Sabbath. Even my Grandmother chided me for working...swore that I wouldn't have made it in her time. "Gal, you expecting. You don't wash no damn clothes on no Sunday. You should've did it yesterday. In my day...Let me tell you...We had washboards." She fell into a hush so that the seriousness of that word would wash over me...literally and figuratively. But today was a good day. This magical moment with my Granny was not a random one. Today was her 78th birthday and my mother and aunts gave her big dinner. It was nice and filling. I think the Bourgie Baby enjoyed it because I haven't been nauseous or dizzy all day. This anticlimactic weekend and my entire summer is waning in these last moments...I start work tomorrow. New job. New environment. Lil Bug is quiet as kept until I can't hide it any longer. Hopefully I can keep my newly profound gas, nausea, and appetite under control for so long. At least I got the entire 1st trimester out of the way during my vacation. Besides that, I'll be sending my old job the lyrics of Fantasia's "Two Weeks Notice", signed mdgg and Lil Bourgie Bug
The love that me and you shared expired So there will be no renewing our contracts And I aint got nothing since I've been hired So I cant take you back I done gave love and aint got no commission So give me one reason why I should stay here I thought compared to all the other [jobs] you were different But I cried the same old tears I cant take it, I cant do it no
[Chorus:] This is my two week notice I resign my position because You aint treating me right I been working on the job Just busting my ass Pleasing you everyday and night I get no raises or no benefits You stay with this establishment Im gone, this is my two week notice
so I was telling Daddy Kaboom, "What about Chinese tonight?", all the while giving in to the fact that we're making sloppy joes as i type. What I wouldn't do for a sushi roll or some sesame chicken and sauteed, crunchy, delicately salted green beans.
Cravings haven't been much of an issue and nothing bizarre. everybody has been telling me about the ice cream and pickles to where the schtick of it is just, well, a little like flat ginger ale - not satisfying unless i'm burping.
Foods me and my bourgie baby love: Grilled Chicken Deluxe from Wendy's = extra tomatoes and pickles please Loaded Omelet biscuit or some type of sausage biscuit from Hardees Mango ice cream - the off brand kind from Winn Dixie - it's the best and i grew up on it Big salads (think Seinfeld) Steak Baked french fries or just anything potato-y (helps the nausea somehow) A big hunk of pizza from Sam's Club - it's not just for bulk shopping AND Breakfast....when six a.m. hits, i'm famished and headed to the kitchen for a country breakfast...
Just like yesterday morning, I had the most fabulous breakfast: thick, creamy, hot grits, fried green tomatoes, country rind bacon (yeah, we minimally partake in the swine - kick rocks), country biscuits with fat free butter spray; even though i was too lazy to fry up some eggs, the Gaines-Griggs klan ate very well. Such a memorable breakfast for some reason. I know what you're thinking: how could me and my bourgie baby partake in such low brow cuisine? are we slumming for a meal to brag to our friends that we partook in such random choices for our delicate and refined palates, as if they were delicacies that "those people" eat?
Such is the quandary for this blog. This blog is dedicated the confabulations of an educated country girl trying to make it in this world with a cast of characters and a globular of life in utero. But I tell you what, me and this bougie baby ate the hell out of the breakfast and it was still filling with out having to be a buffet.
it has been confirmed. that beautiful blob is my little bourgie baby bka as Lil Bug - gender specific alterations will happen once they are confirmed.
its all a little surreal. my first doctor's visit was very uneventful. talk to dr. haha, get buck naked waist down, and we'll take it from there. when i saw the little blob, a feeling of warmth, literally, came over me. i guess it's that initial motherly love and wit you get, if you truly possess it. i even saw his little arms wiggling...he was just lying there, perhaps talking to God, configuring his life's plan, which he will forget in a few months...
i saw the cutest baby furniture that i'm sure will suit my bourgie baby...i mean how can you have a bourgie baby and you ain't got the color scheme going...i should get my priorities straight, but my so-called middle class values are inhibiting me from thinking practically. we all want our children to have the best, but somehow that never worked in my case. i think i did just fine with "ok" or "slightly damaged" or "irregular" or "mildly dented", even "salvage". why do we create bourgie babies? but back to that baby furniture...so the color schemes are minty turquoise and chocolate...very neutral, preppy for a boy, retro for a little girl, perfect for mommy - the unofficial pseudo-nursery decorator....well maybe not a nursery, but my bourgie baby will have a room in the apartment which will also suffice as an office...a nook of its own. My unapologetically metrosexual friend-brother, Toby1Kenobi, laughingly told me that strangely, he knew exactly what colors they were and agreed that they were a nice touch...or did he...i just remember him saying something about yellow and blue...as if! Clearly not bourgie enough! Yellow and blue are the colors of necessity and practicality, unisex conglomerations of outfits found at any department store. Minty turquoise and chocolate, that's pizzazz, totally UN-random, not found in bulk and on every shelf. Lil Bug will be a trendy, kick ass, individual - I'll even settle for fashionable eccentric. We shall see (I just have to laugh at myself).
my hubby, whom we'll call Daddy Kaboom, was simply delighted with this blurred picture, but it's so nice that we are sharing this experience together, happily and on purpose. Surely he has that explosive shot that has "gotten" me in this blessed situation despite the nausea and wooziness sent from hell. It has made me the Lesser Phenomenal Woman because "Still, I lie, less phenomenally, in sickness, I lie in wake..."
I write myself down in blog's history/ With my bitter, frank truths/ I may fly in nausea's pursuit/ And still, like phlegm, I lie...
