Man,
I'm looking back through my dayplanner to see what I've been doing
for the past twelve days, and I take the boring cake. Life's been
revolving around chiropractic appointments (turn, baby, turn) and
midwifery appointments and getting fitted for nursing bras (please
note that I now have a porn star-sized rack) ordering crib sheets
that don't match and going to childbirth classes that Gray hates
and I'm kinda bored of, and which stroller do I buy, the Bumbleride
Rocket or the Quinny
from the Netherlands by way of Sears Canada? We were going to go
to Palm Springs this weekend for a last-gasp "babymoon",
but we were like, "What will we do there? We don't like to
shop. I can't drink cocktails by the pool. I can't golf and you
don't enjoy Bob Hope memorabilia." So we stayed. And instead
I painted this for the baby's room:
Gray
thinks it's scary because it doesn't have any hands, but the baby
probably won't notice that for at least a few years. But it was
nice to do because I discovered painting on masonite, which was
pretty easy, and then Gray cut it out and so when it's mounted on
the wall we'll make it stick out a little which'll provide some
cool dimensionality. And it's big. I'm into big art lately.
In unrelated baby news I ordered the Hypnobabies
program and started listening to it, and I don't think it's gonna
work. They spend a good deal of time on the CDs saying how we're
all hypnotized everyday and so we're used to it and that there's
no reason to think it won't work on everybody, but I'm pretty sure
it won't work on me. I keep falling asleep. I put in the CD, it
starts talking about how it's okay if you fall asleep because your
subliminal osmosis-y mind will still learn the lessons, and then
I conk out and don't remember anything. So I don't think I'm going
to experience a hypnotizable birth. Hopefully somebody on eBay will,
though.
Dogs:
What
will the dogs do when the baby comes? A 37-week full-term baby is
only two weeks away, if you can FUCKING BELIEVE IT. Okay, nevermind
the dogs, what will *I* do when the baby comes? This is one of those
things where yeah, you see your belly grow, and it's taken nine
months, and you plan for it and you want it and you buy things to
make it more real (like our trip to Babies R Us and buying the big-ticket
items and Gray looking at the cart and saying, "Why is there
a high chair in the cart?" like not getting it because it's
so abstract). That's what it is, it's abstract. There's this person
in my body who was created by a bit of me and a bit of him and now
he's almost ready to come out and join the world, but I've never
met him, yet I'm keeping him alive, it's my vessel he's housed in
and it's my cheeseburgers and french fries that are keeping him
going and it's just so weird. I mean it's a bloody miracle, but
it's just hard to wrap your head around.
I
have now officially turned down five baby showers. And I've decided
that I'm an idiot, because having a baby is fricking expensive.
The last one I said no to was offered by a girl on our street who
wanted to have a street shower, and I was like, "Thanks, but
that's cool, you guys can come visit him when he's born instead,"
(which is a lie because we're going to keep him shielded from the
world for a little while) and Gray was like, "So. Having lunch
with them wasn't worth seven hundred dollars to you?" And then
I felt really lame.
===
Now
I gotta go line up more needle documentary interviews while I still
can. When shooting day two at the Red Cross last week (two weeks
ago?) someone AGAIN almost passed out. So much for all their protestations
that nobody ever takes a header when they get around the blood and
the syringes. But one guy passing out on tape sure beats twelve
guys talking about it.
