Holy cow. Just was scrolling through blogspot: "next blog. next blog. next blog." and remembered that I have a blog. So came here to visit and I see that it certainly has been a while since I posted anything. Is that chubby baby my kid? She looks slightly different now. Still likes to be naked though. I have a new respect for Ryan and for all stay at home parents. She was so much "mine" the first year, then I went back to work and Ry took over as primary caregiver. He just got a contract gig working for Sony and left town for 10(!) days. My folks have been awesome, taking over the weekly duties. My mom even has made us dinner every night. Parenting a 2 year old is difficult. We woke up today at 5:30 and we were off. Non stop. I somehow conned her into napping about an hour ago and though I really have lots of housework I should be doing, I think I'd rather veg out on the couch. I found quite by accident a pretty cool website for self publishing: Blurb which makes me want to make cool photo books or children's stories. You know, in all my copious free time.
If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it. -F.B.
Much the same could be said for blogging. Ry has inspired me to put down some thoughts. My life has been distilled into nursing, napping, eating and showering with an occasional load of laundry or vacuuming endeavor. You have no idea how proud I am when I accomplish one of these small tasks.
I was initially very overwhelmed by the 24/7 parent thing, but I am getting more used to it. I am certainly getting better at doing things one handed while juggling a bobble headed infant. She's pretty funny. We are her slaves. I am hoping this won't last long. I am attempting to appreciate all this "free time" I have with her because the Government says I get pregnancy disability pay for 6 weeks only and then it is back to work. Seems an awfully short time to me. Luckily, I am able to go back on a part time basis initially, so I won't be away from her too long at a time.
I figure I'll go back to work right when she moves from glazed eye lump to interactive charmer.
Everyone told me to "sleep now while you can". Ha! Even with the waking every three hours at night, I am sleeping much better now than I was when I was 41 weeks + pregnant. (Don't need nearly as many pillows either.)
I was happy (in retrospect) that I was able to deliver her without the epidural, but apparently not as happy as Ry. He told me he was at a bar the other day relating the story of her birth and everyone was floored that I did it without drugs. Much in the same way that people couldn't believe that we did not find out the gender before her birth. What can I say? We're rebels.
I can make a resolution to keep this updated, but the best I can shoot for is more than once a quarter.
So I have been having an awful lot of strange dreams lately, no surprise there. What’s interesting is they are so vivid, I can actually remember what they were about when I wake up. Saturday night I had a dream that I was making breakfast. I’d made cream cheese and raspberry jam sandwiches on brioche then I cut off the crusts, cut them into strips and coated them in an egg wash and fried them up French toast style. Not sure if this would be good or not, but it sounds interesting enough to try to make. Then again, a lot of food items sound good to me right now that are questionable. The dream I had last night was even more bizarre. I dreamt I was in a production of Jesus Christ Superstar, also starring the cast of Mad Men. Peggy was Mary, Pete Campbell was Judas, Roger was Pontius Pilate and Don was Jesus (of course). I think I was just chorus. Joan was the stage manager. She had a clipboard and everything. I frequently have these dreams where it is opening night of a play and I haven’t really been paying attention to the rehearsal process. But this one wasn’t a stress dream as usual, since I have actually been in that show twice. Sure it was 20 years ago, but if you’re like me, those damn songs NEVER get out of your head. The really interesting part of the dream happened at intermission. Apparently the theater we were performing in was in Japan, because as I shuffled outside with the audience the haunting lilt of flute music reached my ears. I went out to the balcony and there were 50 Japanese aerialists in grey and red jumpsuits about to perform a “Kabuki” rendition of Hamlet. There were no words, just dancing in patterns (think Beijing opening ceremonies 2008) to the music. Then, a tiny girl in a red jumpsuit jumped off the 7 story balcony right next to me. We all gasped as she plummeted toward the concrete courtyard. When she was just a spec of her former size, her compatriot caught her and the show ended. It was so beautiful I started crying. Seriously. Strange stuff.
As Ry loves to remind me, Facebook can often be a vacuous narcissistic waste of time. But I do enjoy the reconnections it has afforded me. Last night I got together with an eclectic group of friend from high school to go to the Magic Castle. I used to go there as a kid with my folks. It almost lived up to the nostalgia hype in my mind. It was neat to get to see some old pals though. Jana, a middle school science teacher. Caitlin, a previous buyer for Borders, recently transplanted back to LA and trying to decide what she wants to be when she grows up. Carolyn and her fiance David, both lawyers that met on match.com. Forrest and his girlfriend Michelle, world class ballroom dancers. And little old me. Rather a casting mash up of Gilligan's Island proportions. The "magic" shows ended up being more about juggling. Sadly nothing as good as this. It was this guy and his wife. But we did see some amazing card tricks.
I will say the most frustrating thing about the evening was the drive. I drove 96 miles in an hour and a half, then it took me another 30 minutes to drive 10 miles. Ahh, L.A. I don't care what Randy Newman says. Not worth it. How could you live there? I just don't get it. Still and all, trying to get out of the house now. While I can.
Ryan appreciated it too I think. He went to see High on Fire unmolested by me.