All posts by Natasha

I'm a skeptical agnostic lesbian transsexual comedian mom living and loving in San Francisco.

The Blur I Used to Call My Life

I have a pretty simple routine for washing my hair. Shampoo one day, skip one day, shampoo one day, skip one day, etc. It’s like the Karate Kid version of personal hygiene: wash on, wash off.

Yet despite its simplicity, there I was this morning, lying in bed, trying desperately to remember when I last washed my hair last.

“Was it yesterday? What day is today? I remember Wednesday felt like a Tuesday, so since today feels like a Thursday it’s probably Friday. Right. Okay. That doesn’t help. Let’s see…”

And then I realized what time it was.

“7:50? I slept in? Now I don’t have time to take a shower. Unless i wait until the baby takes her first nap. But I wanna be dressed and getting other stuff done during that time, so that won’t work. Well, I guess I washed my hair yesterday then.”

I’m back.

A few months ago my wife and I (my wife did most of the work, I just watched and took notes) had a baby.  I wrote a few posts about myself and our experience so far and then I stopped for a while.

I guess trying to start writing a regular blog wasn’t a good time to have a baby (or vice versa?) so it fell by the wayside.

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Life of the Party!

My new favorite thing is to bring my new favorite person (our baby) out with us when we go somewhere to have fun.

This past weekend we went to a housewarming, and we didn’t have to take the initiative to meet new people at all! It was perfect. One by one at least half the guests came by to say hello and ask us questions about our little one.  Easy questions, too! Just basic stuff we didn’t even have to think about to get right. (Not like anyone would know if we got her weight wrong, anyways, but still…)

So, if you’re awful at parties and hate being that shy person in the corner everyone ignores and/or feels sorry for, I highly recommend getting a baby!

I suppose this is the reason they refer to it as the “blues”

I know we don’t know each other very well, and this may seem like a little much so early on in our relationship, but I gotta tell you something: I’ve been a little depressed lately.  I know I’m not supposed to be and I know I don’t wanna be, but I know what I know- even if it’s wrong.

Wrong because there’s no ‘supposed to’s when it comes to feelings, right? You feel what you feel and it’s up to you to decide what you do with the feelings, but you’re not responsible for your feelings.

Or are you? Either way I feel bad about feeling depressed, so there’s that.

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Don’t call me…

I love visiting our family in Fresno, I really do. I like to make fun of it sometimes because there’s not much else to do there, but I enjoy spending time with my wife’s grandmother and aunts.  And I’m glad that our daughter gets a chance to meet her extended family and spends time with them.

What I don’t like is the underlying discomfort they have with our relationship. Especially since it’s a seemingly low-level annoyance they have which only bubbles up in indirect ways concerning our baby.

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Time for another post? Already?

If there’s one thing I’ve been consistently good at my entire life, it’s putting things off.  When I grew up, I learned that there was a fancier way to express that idea. It’s called…  wait for it…  ‘procrastinating.’

Actually I started honing this skill before the official start of my life.  I was what they call two weeks ‘late.’ But if you ask me (and by dint of you reading this, it’s implied, to a degree, that you are) I wasn’t late, I was just waiting for the perfect time to be born. I wanted to make sure everything was squared away in utero before embarking on the next leg of the journey, and that everyone on the other side of the curtain was prepared for my arrival.

Unfortunately, I was disappointed on both accounts. Partly because a uterus is no place for right angles, but mostly because there is no perfect time for anything.  And asking expectant parents if they’re ready for a baby is like asking first time astronauts if they’re ready to be shot into space. Yeah, they’ve done their research, they’re excited for the big event, and they’re going to say “yes, yes I am ready,” but in both cases there’s a lot more diapers involved than anybody cares to admit, and a better word for ‘ready’ is ‘willing.’

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Making angels.

My friend and fellow comedian Emily Heller has a joke in which she likens getting pregnant to scheduling a car accident.

In the months leading up to the big day, I thought about this idea a lot.

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