Welcome to Skottustelpa's page of fun and games. Skottustelpa is amazing, beautiful and incredibly talented. Everyone loves Skottustelpa. Go, Skottustelpa, go!
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| Skottustelpa, The Continuing Saga Welcome to Skottustelpa's page of fun and games. Skottustelpa is amazing, beautiful and incredibly talented. Everyone loves Skottustelpa. Go, Skottustelpa, go! |
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Wednesday, May 31, 2006 Again, something rotten in the State of Denmark. Today's headlines, here in Denmark, tell of a big political drama about lesbians. How is that, you may wonder? In Denmark, if you want to be artificially insaminated, you have the first three tries on the state. That means, you are covered by the health care system, which is run by our tax money. The only women who don't get these services are lesbians. Now, that doesn't mean that it is illegal to be artificially insaminated if you are a lesbian. It just means you have to go to a private clinic and pay for it yourself. The big difference there is that in the private clinics the operation is not done by doctors. In a country that is all for equal rights, this is a dismay. I want to make clear that the question here is not wether lesbians are adequate parents. In the Danish parlament, you first vote on a "suggestion to changes in the law" and then there is the vote on "making a law". In the first voting round the lesbians "won" by one vote. This was a big shocker to the ruling parties. Now they want to make a change in the suggestion, so that the law will be that lesbians can get doctors help to get artifically insaminated, but they have to pay for it themselves. So, we all agree that tax paying lesbians, have the right to a doctor when it comes to artificial insamination. Aparently though, a large part of parlament finds that only rich, tax paying lesbians should get these services. How about that, people? Two days until members of parlament take a summer break and there is no knowing how this will end. posted by Skotta | 1:45 PM | Tuesday, May 23, 2006 I have to say, the Eurovision Song Contest was extraordinary feisty this year. The competition was hard! I loved the transvestite from Turkey. I believe she got Silvia's points. I have a daily battle with my mind now, trying to get these darned songs out of my head. Torneo, torneoooooo .... (If there is any song that drives me nuts then it is the Show Me Your Love horror). My boy is sleeping. Sweet. This means I can play, as long as I ignore my surroundings. I have decided I am going to pretend I am one of those horses who have these black things on the side of their head so they don't look around.  This way I don't see that my apartment is a "bumped lokum", as they so eloquantly put it in Danish (not sure about the translation here, but it has a crude word meaning "toilet" in there). Me and AB are both on pregnancy leave so we have no excuse ... exept the fact that we don't really live here anymore. We have stayed out at AB's mother's house almost since the birth. We have spent more nights out there than we have at home so far. I also spent half of my pregnancy at her house. I am also going out of town from Wednesday to Sunday to spend time with AB's sister and her husband, and their dog. Every year we spend two weeks with his family in Bornholm. All of this automatically gets me the title The Worlds Most Patient Girlfriend. The title comes with a halo.  I am scoring "family time" points left and right. Can you tell I'm counting? Little does the poor man know. Of course I don't deserve the halo. The whole thing is a plot. This way I can throw my halo at him every time he utters a sound over the month and a half I am planning to stay with MY mother in Iceland this summer. (In psych language, this is called: In recovery, not cured). posted by Skotta | 3:54 PM | Sunday, May 21, 2006 Enough with the doom and gloom. This should teach me to take naps during the day. In fact, I just woke up from one of those! Lets just look at the Eurovision Song Contest once again. Remember these guys?  Well, they won!!!! My dearest Silvia Night made herself so unpopular in Athen that she was booed off stage. We all had our doubts if the world was ready for Silvia. She I have to say, no matter how bad her behaviour was, that is unacceptable. Never, never, in this fine contest, has the audience shown such appaling behaviour. It is totally off. I still think she is adorable. She had told she is going to go to LA, where nobody wears Buffalo shoes, like people still do here in Europe. For the Icelanders living abroad, who haven't seen the 10 o'clock news from the Icelandic TV station RUV, enjoy this link. posted by Skotta | 3:40 PM | Friday, May 19, 2006 Just thought I'd blog a little for those blessed souls that are bringing my counter up to 9000. You are very patient people. I don't really know what to write about because to be honest, at the moment, I am sick of myself. They say it is hormones. If you ask me, hormones have way too much power in this world. I want that sweet, happy woman back, the one who had never ending patience with her Amazing Boyfriend and always had her cup full or overflowing (cup full: means having so much in her she has extra to give). I have no extra now and I have to take care to have enough for myself. I hate being like this and the only thing I can do is hope it is temporary. None of my vices are working. Oh, well. Let's not dwell on that. Let's see where we are with fun and games! Nope, no time. My sweet Japanese friend just came by. posted by Skotta | 1:09 PM | Sunday, May 14, 2006 Lonely ... you don't have to be lonely ... Come and see Tallulah, we will chase your troubles away ...  A while back I posted about some of my favorite musicals. I forgot about Bugsy Malone. I don't know how many times I saw this movie. The Tallulah song came into my head this morning, like an old friend. It is one of the most seductive songs ever sung by a little girl playing a grown up. I am so happy that as a kid, I didn't see it that way. I am also happy my parents didn't see it that way because I would have missed out on this movie. It was so cool that they shot each other with cream pies. Maybe it was the cream pies and the fact that Jodie Foster didn't wear a tee that showed her midribs. Little girls these days have a tendency to go around half naked, and we are not talking about at the beach. What's up with that? posted by Skotta | 8:55 AM | Saturday, May 13, 2006 I experience something or get a thought, daily, that I need to blog about. As you can see, I do not make it to Blogger.com that often. I used to say that post-free periods were a good sign, it meant that I had a life outside the computer. Wich basically means, had a life, in general. This time, I don't. Well, that is not true, but I have a full time job breast feeding and diaper changing. This charished occupation takes 8-10 hours of my day (and night). When the daddy is out playing, there is, he cuts my hours down quite a bit when he is home. Being a member of the Instant Gratification Generation, I had no patience with my baby. I had to go places and I had to do things, so he had to drink quickly and better yet, get that burping thing over with a.s.a.p. We were stressed. He got air in is stomach. I got irritated until I realized that life gave me a perfect baby and I should be ashamed of myself, seeing him as imperfect because he was having problems getting rid of air. Poor baby. Ungrateful mommy. Then the daddy went out of town for 4 days. Me and baby stayed home, having nothing to do but relax and receive visitors. Baby got air out of stomach, and I have a feeling it wasn't something he ate, or his poor body being all fresh out of the womb, but his mother not being relaxed enough to give him the time he needs. He is now getting it. This means that I went to Seven Eleven and bought all the glossy magazines I could get my hands on, May issues. If only I could blog and breastfeed ... but I can't. So I read Cosmo. Might as well since my brain is partly dead during breast feeding anyway. So, roughly calculated, I spend 6 hours breast feeding daily, 2 hours diaper changing, and 2 hours helping this little body to get a burp out. If I do my job properly I avoid 4 hours of walking around or rocking a screaming baby with severe pains in it's stomach. Boring, yes, but worth it. The screaming broke my heart. But I still give a loud cheer every time the baby burps or farts. Life isn't boring really. I got girlfriends visiting yesterday and it was so sweet to just hang out and have girlfriend talk. They were very patient with me, hearing about the hormone and baby side of life, and in stead I got to hear about life "out there". I am slowly accepting the fact that this is my job for the next 6 months (if all goes well), maybe longer. I am also accepting that I don't fit my clothes. I have realized that I make inhuman demands of myself and my body. On monday it has been 4 weeks and I expected my body to just be all fit and strong again. My mother put me straight. Where would the world be without mothers? Well, this blog would be a few posts poorer. Cause I am a mommy now and there is no turning back. Which means no time proof reading this post, baby is calling. posted by Skotta | 6:45 PM | Friday, May 05, 2006 Just got through next phase of "recently gave birth" story. That one could be called Where do they issue shooting permits? or Welcome to Resentment Hell. Yip. Not kidding. Glad I got through that one in one piece. Glad AB got through in one piece. Glad we now have peace. I now have no resentments but it was a tough week. Probably strongly influenced by a fast growing baby boy who decided to take two days of crying loudly when not breast fed. It is called "increasing the milk", being hungry all the time and fed every couple of hours. As said, this takes two days and boy, are they long. This much I can tell you: When you have carried a baby for three hours straight, your shoulders start hurting really bad. You get that tingly pricking feeling in them, like you get when your foot falls asleep. The learning experience is that you figure out about a million ways to console a baby that spits out it's pacifier. Mother looking like her friend Mrs. Parton now, boy taking the pacifier again. 
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Monday, May 01, 2006 All is well. And sorry about the corny post I am about to write, but right now, this is my world: I've stopped crying. I think. No, really. I feel much better. Baby is two weeks old today. I honestly don't know how two weeks could evaporate so quickly. The boy will be confirmed before I know it. I was thinking this morning, how much my thoughts have changed since this little man came into my world. Example: Before I wrote in great lenghts about the importance of his nationality. I now find it less important. Or not really, but I wondered if he'd be more Danish than Icelandic. I found that it didn't matter because he'd be himself. Same with gender. I don't see him as a boy. I see him as baby. Gender free. He is himself. So what do I know about this little person after two weeks? Well, I know he falls asleep after almost exactly 10 minutes of breastfeeding. Then he needs to burp so he wakes up again. He dislikes being asked to burp on demand and vigorously displays this dislike with his strong little wiggly body, and voice that I am grateful for not being able to scream any louder. He likes sleeping on his dad's breast. He doesn't like being naked or having his diaper changed. He doesn't like it when his clumsy parents bathe him in water that is too cold. This is about it. The rest is kind of a constant "guess why he's crying now?". Well, not quite. I know he responds to my voice and his fathers voice. I know he likes me. posted by Skotta | 9:17 AM | |
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