You
know your life's taken a turn when it becomes impossible to carve
out even fifteen minutes to write a journal entry. Today the child
will not sleep. He fights it, fights it, fights it -- so much so
that he's maintaining consciousness by physically holding his lids
open with his fat little fingers. We were in Whole Paycheck this
afternoon, him in the Bjorn, and a woman behind us with a baby looked
over and said, "Somebody wants a nap." I said back, "I
AM feeling pretty tired today." Just kidding, I didn't really
say that. I rewrote it in my head on the way home.
But
that brings me to another issue, possibly THE issue of motherhood
I'm finding I can't stand. EVERYBODY tells you when they think the
baby should be fed. EVERYBODY tells you when they think your baby
needs a nap. I'm yelling in caps because if there's one thing in
life I can't stand, it's being told what to do. This is the #1 Issue
in my marriage, because Gray loves to tell me what to do, and in
fact it was what sent us to therapy a few years ago. And it was
pretty much resolved... until we had a baby. And I'm digressing
all over the place. But if any of you out there are getting ready
to pop forth offspring, be prepared to be told 1000 times a day
that your baby's hungry and tired. It will bring you perilously
close to murderousness if you're anything like me.
On
the good side of things, this baby is fun. He's big and fat (13
weeks / 19.6 lbs + 26.5 inches = fat!) and already wears size 12
month clothes and probably the funnest part is he started jibberjabbering
at a hundred miles an hour last week, and when I do it back to him
it's like we're having a martian conversation. I will stop short
in labeling him a genius, because who needs it? But he's got a little
fire behind his eyes that makes me think it's going to be really
fun watching him grow up.
For
the most part we never have any fun outside the house anymore, for
instance I haven't been to the movies in four months. Gray on the
other hand has been twice with his work people to see the films
of competitors and says it doesn't count because it's work, but
if you ask me I think you'd be hard pressed calling Shrek 3 work
no matter what the circumstance. So I yearn for movie theater popcorn
and a dark room with a big screen and no interruptions. But I hold
out hope that someday my wishes will come true. Someday. We did
have a little fun a couple weekends ago at a party that was loaded
with famous people, including a guy from 30
Rock, a girl from MadTV,
and a dude from Rome
(good lord I just looked him up and had no idea he'd been in that
much stuff and boy do I love a Scottish accent) and a couple other
recognizeables. They were all extremely nice and there is nothing
I like more than meeting famous people who are down to earth and
nice. Around here it's always the people who haven't made it yet
but are trying who are the dicks, funny enough. At that party we
ate lots of potato salad and hamburgers and laughed a lot and I
had one beer, which was delicious.
I'm
burning through movies lately, as I spend a lot of time in front
of the television with my boobs hanging in the breeze. This week's
Netflix rentals: Little Children, The Illusionist, Music & Lyrics.
Post-natal
report: I have lost all pregnancy weight and am slowly losing more,
which is good. Breastfeeding really does take it off. It would probably
come off faster if I stopped eating Ben & Jerry's Brownie Batter
after dinner. Also, my crotch is healed. Also, I have started playing
softball again, and suddenly I SUCK. (Screaming all caps for effect.)
Apparently my athleticism leaked out along with my amniotic fluid.
Music
report: I am about to listen to the new Bloc Party and the new Arcade
Fire, and am desperately trying to turn an old sea shanty ("Whup
Jamboree") that says my name into my ringtone.
Midwife
report: Criminal charges were dropped against her (practicing medicine
without a license, I guess I can reveal it now, which wasn't the
case when I was giving birth, don't worry) so the DA won't be coming
to my door afterall. Good. She still can't practice and the birth
center where I had the baby is still closed, which is sad. I know
birth centers and home births aren't for everyone, but it's looking
like soon there won't be a choice and everybody will have to do
it in the hospital, the way they're going after midwives these days.
I can't even imagine doing it in a hospital now.
Work
report: I can barely get time for a journal entry so how can I edit
documentaries? Ugh. Also, the anxiety dentist won't commit to being
interviewed, and tomorrow I'll talk to the PR department of a giant
needle manufacturer in New Jersey who will hopefully allow me to
incorporate bits of an industrial video of their needle-making plant.
I'm hoping they'll allow it since that'll be a lot cheaper than
flying to NJ and shooting it myself. And I still can't find Dr.
James Hamilton, the king of needle phobia, in order to interview
him. If you know him, please send him my way.
