Tuesday, March 31, 2009

"Luke" Vetoed

They say that speaking to your baby whilst he/she is still in the womb will help the baby recognize your voice and, therefore, make bonding after birth more seamless. This piece of information was reiterated to Ken and I at our last prenatal class and since then, Ken has made more of a conscious effort to speak to the baby through the many protruding layers of my stomach.

I soon discovered, however, that Ken's version of "bonding" was speaking to the baby in a hypnotic, Darth Vaderesque voice and telling him how much better his Daddy is than his Mommy. For example,

Ken: Hellooooo baby. This is your Daddy speaking. Listen to MY voice and not to
Mommy's because Mommy doesn't love you as much as I do. Mommy is always
complaining about you kicking her in the ribs but if you were kicking ME in the ribs I
would consider it a great privilege. Did you know that -OUCH.....!

And this is when I might let Ken know what the baby kicks feel like by poking him mercilessly in the ribs. Now the baby will learn to distinguish between that imposter, Darth Vader, and the common wimperings of his real father.

J

Saturday, March 21, 2009

Oh Happy Day!

Shortly after my last post, the hot water returned to our building. You may be relieved to know that no harm or accident befell Ken. My kindling wrath was doused quite quickly by a soapy, hot shower...aaahhh. I would, however, like to extend a warm thanks to those who, either out of sympathy for my showerless state or out of a concern for Ken's safety, kindly offered their warm showers for my useage. All is right in the world - at least for now.

J

Thursday, March 19, 2009

Casualty of Discomfort

What a beautiful thing a lovely warm/hot shower is. It gently awakens you into morning awareness and relaxes the aching muscles of a restless sleep. But, oh, how I have taken this every-day luxury for granted.

For the past four days I have been without the comfort of a hot shower - as have the rest of the tenants in my building. Thank you landlord for speedily solving this problem (heavy sarcasm intended). Yesterday I couldn't stand my non-hygienical state any longer and braved the icey spray. Big mistake; I couldn't stop shaking for an hour afterwards and felt as though all the energy I had ever possessed had evaporated into airy thinness.

If I don't get a warm shower soon, someone is going to have to bear the brunt of my unease and, since proximity is key, it will most likely be my innocent husband. Poor Ken. Is it okay to be evil to someone if you warn them in advance?

J

Thursday, March 12, 2009

Lost and Found

It has many names: "pregnancy brain," "baby brain drain," and, as my mother calls it, "prenatal brain fog." It's a "condition" experienced by expectant mothers often characterized by short term memory loss, forgetfullness and absant mindedness. Some say such a condition is a myth but I say screw you baby-brain nay sayers; there has to be some reason my gray matter has turned to mush!

Today I left my wallet at the cashier counter (I kid you not) three times! The first two times, the cashiers were kind enough to run my wallet out to me as I was obliviously vacating the store. The third time, a kind and ever-so beloved fellow-patron at Subway mentioned that he had seen a ladies wallet at the cashier counter and wisely advised that I check to see if I had misplaced mine. A mind that so carelessly and cavalierly capitualtes her cash is a confounded mind indeed (too much alliteration?).

It continues. Last night while watching Jeopordy, I missed the Thomas Hardy reference and confused Operation Torch with Operation Barbarossa, proving that I am not "far from the madding crowd" but smack dab in the middle of it. What kind of English/History major am I? This baby better be brilliant because he's sucking the smart out of me like a Peter's milkashake through a straw.

Hoping to return to the land of the learned soon,
J

P.S. I don't hate my baby.

Monday, March 9, 2009

Let the Wild Rumpus Start

I spend my days working with children of all ages and am consistently amazed by what incredibly imaginative, random and largely ludicrous comments they make. It almost makes up for their manushydrosopaphobic (my version of a hand washing phobia), paper ripping, water spilling, Kleenex avoiding, work stalling, and table kicking predilections. Today’s example: "Max" – a seven year old, sandy haired boy with a gift for masticating rubber erasers.

Today Max was in fine form, deftly appropriating my wrapper-fresh Staedtler Mars Plastic eraser. After rescuing the innocent chunk of rubber from his vice-like jaws, we started to discuss the orthographic tendencies involved in spelling the word “back” (i.e. discovering what letters/letter combinations can make the /k/ sound and then testing each option). While this activity proved to be incredibly engrossing to the small boy, somehow (surprising, I know) his attention was diverted to drawing pictures in the margins of the lined paper.

I decided to indulge him for a few minutes and asked him about what he was drawing. He showed me a charming set of monsters, each in the process of either tearing or burning some poor stick person to pieces. A conversation ensued as follows:

J: Are your monsters good or bad?
M: Definitely good...but they're not MY monsters.
J: Whose are they then?
M: They're the monsters that fight for God.
J: But doesn't God have angels to do that?
M: Ya, but angels can't pee fire!

Touche, Max. Touche,
J

Thursday, March 5, 2009

Cuddling Conundrum

My husband and I have been trying to solve this problem for the longest time : where to comfortably place your lower arms when your cuddling face to face in bed at night. Thanks to our favorite web comic (http://xkcd.com/335/) - solution found.


Need I say more?
J

Blog Virgin

Last night I became acutely aware of my complete lack of blog savy. As two close friends freely chatted about their favorite bloggers, I became a little absorbed in an internal dialogue. I haven't even read a blog before? Am I a bad friend for not reading the blogs of friends and family? Am I ready to jump on the blog bandwagon myself and rid myself of the clearly embarassing title of blog virgin? Isn't "blog" an amusing word? Not much of a "dialogue" in the true sense of the word, I know, but it obviously did the trick. This was my first time and it wasn't so scary. Plus, it gets more enjoyable with time and practice right?

A blog virgin no more,
J