I took G running with me Monday and today, and it was interesting to see how he coped with being stuck in his stroller for a half hour at a time.
First, everything was new: “Boat! Bird! Vroom! Yay, Mama!”
Then, everything was boring: “Mama, UP! WALK! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALK!”
Finally, acceptance: “zzzzzzz”
(Though he always pops awake as soon as I pull up at the playground!)
In celebration of my birthday (and because G was with my parents) in the last two days I have:
1) Bought shoes with 5″ heels. Cannot walk more than 10 feet / stand more than 5 minutes in them, but hot damn do they look good!
2) Took a burlesque lesson with a dozen of my girlfriends. Nothing says bonding on your 30th birthday like stripping!
3) Ate a great dinner with all my friends.
4) Went dancing.
5) Went to bed scandalously late (1am! Holy crap!)
6) Woke up scandalously late (9am! Holy cow!)
7) Went running without worrying about what G would do.
8) Ate a yummy brunch cooked by Mr. Fizz
10) Went rollerblading.
And next up, dinner with my fam. It’s been a fantastic birthday! 🙂
Homeless man: So what happened to your husband?
Homeless woman: Oh, he left years ago.
Homeless man: Why didn’t you go with him?
Tonight there are a bunch of student types standing at the foot of our building, baaaaa-ing like sheep.
And here I thought Harvard was supposed to encourage leadership tendencies, not herd mentality.
You’d think that after two nights of dealing with G having night terrors I would have gone to bed early last night, bracing for the worst. Unfortunately, all that mental preparedness kept me awake until midnight, when G actually DID wake up wanting to nurse. That made it a very long night, what with the 2am nursing session and the 6am “up mama food mawf eat!” chorus.
I’m glad the night terrors didn’t reappear last night; I suspect that since the night terrors were followed by G’s first multi-word utterances poor G was having some sort of sentence-structure-related mental meltdown in the middle of the night.
(My mother also claims that G can now count up to 10 while stacking the appropriate number of blocks, but I find this highly doubtful because when I ask him to count to three he usually says, “One..two………………ONE!!!” with great glee.)
I ran my first solo 5k today with a time of 27:02 on a very hilly course. I’m happy with the time, but a bit miffed that I couldn’t make it in under 27 minutes…next time!
1. On my way to a gig I passed a headstone manufacturer with a huge sign out front that read “Go Slow – LIVE.” Nothing like cheating yourself out of potential customers.
2. For the first time ever I stabbed myself with my sword. Not while in performance, but I dropped my sword as I was leaving for my gigs and the point of it pierced the skin on my big toe. It bled. A lot.
3. It’s always a good idea for your toenail polish to be the color of blood. That way, it won’t look like your big toe is bleeding all over.
4. The plan for when I got home: Shower, ice cream, west wing, bed. The reality: G woke up as I was changing out of my costume, and was completely freaked out about something. All I could get out of him was “bear! no! bear! no!” Milk didn’t really help. Aba didn’t do the trick – he finally fell asleep after 45 minutes of crying when I took him into our bed to nurse. I have managed to sneak out, but really should get back.
I danced at the Athenian Corner last night with the rest of Amira Jamal’s advanced students, the first time in a long time I’ve danced with a live band. I love dancing with a live band, but it just doesn’t happen very often now that I don’t perform at restaurants very often. Some pictures:
I admit that I kind of look like an awkward dork in this picture, but I really like how happy I look. It reflects how I actually *feel* when I dance!
(Photo by M. Yaiser)
And here’s me being a diva:
(Photo by Albert Ma, and I feel like I’m one of those old hollywood stars in soft focus, but eh)
And Nepenthe and me doing our duet (before I royally screwed up and forgot a whole sixteen beats of choreography). After seeing these pictures I’m really excited to see the video of our performance at Amira Jamal’s recital a couple weeks ago.
Photo by Albert Ma
(And for the (morbid) record, I want to be buried in that red costume.)
Mr. Fizz’s company recently switched health plans from BCBS to Harvard Pilgrim. We just received our HP introduction packet in the mail. Mr. Fizz was reading through it last night when he said, “Hm. It says here that HP does not cover planned home births.” And then he went on to read that HP DOES cover hospital births with a MINIMUM 48 hour post-birth stay for vaginal births and a 96 hour stay for c-sections. Why they’ll cover a birth that costs $50k but won’t cover a birth that costs under $5k is beyond me.
As I said to Mr. Fizz, maybe our next home birth will have to be an “Oops – did this just happen at home? Crap, too late to go to the hospital, but good thing I had this birthing tub all set up and the midwives happened to be here!” kind of birth. Or maybe my job hunt will involve only places that still use BCBS, as they re-imbursed us for about 80% of G’s birth.
I ordered this DVD on Amazon when it came out yesterday and was pleasantly surprised to find it in our mailbox today. Naturally I roped Mr. Fizz into watching it – despite his protestations that watching home births during dinner was probably not a good idea (in fact the births in the movie were tame compared to those we saw in our birthing class).
I very much enjoyed the documentary – it was clearly biased toward home births or natural births in a hospital/birth center setting, but I was impressed that they also showcased an attempted home birth that required a hospital transfer due to prematurity and ultimately resulted in a c-section. I was also happy to see Ina May Gaskin appear in the documentary – it was her “Guide to Childbirth” that really made me understand the range of birth experiences possible.
One thing that was mentioned a few times in the documentary was the fact that today’s ob/gyns rarely if ever witness a truly natural birth. This got me thinking – wouldn’t it be interesting to invite an ob/gyn to observe my next birth?* (Why I think I might feel comfortable with a complete stranger watching me labor while the thought of having friends or relatives other than my mom and Mr. Fizz with me makes me cringe, I don’t know.)
*NOT pregnant, people. It’ll be a couple more years before we add to the fam.