Sensations

Sometimes I feel like my eyes are my entire face. I lose awareness of the nose I have for smelling, the mouth I have for tasting, the ears I have for listening and the skin I have for touching.

Closing my eyes, swimming in awareness and filtering out what I see; remembering 4/5 of the experience lies elsewhere.


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Me Time

a.k. (theoldspiceman) is out. I have me time. ME TIME. So far this night has included a dinner I made, a rare treat I'll not name here, wine, and a bubble bath. Once upon a long time ago, I would have taken this night to be OUT. And I mean OUT. Dancing with friends, making new ones, and just getting lost on the floor.

Now? Well... I was thinking about that very thing. When did I stop wanting to break the floor? Maybe I'll return to it; but, at this moment, it sounds, well... silly.

It's not silly at all! It used to be a primal need.

I needed to get lost in the beat and dance until my blisters popped and I couldn't feel my pinky toes.

Something tells me it's time to re-visit the old stomping grounds in a new way. Earlier, with a babysitter, and wearing practical shoes.

OH, HELL NO! (To the shoes part. Breaking the floor involves an old saying, "Beauty knows no pain.")

And, let's face it ladies: we look better in heels.

I suppose it's time to plan an outing. Who's in?!

And, just to complete the loop, the contentment in having the "me time" to think about and write this little note is beyond compare.

My shoulders just dropped an inch.

Thanks a.k. :)


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The Great Negotiators

Who knew? A lot of you, that's who. Those of you who've had 'em for your entire post-adolescent lives. You know what I'm talking about: your "Great Negotiators"! Your BOOBS!

They are AWESOME. I had no idea how powerful and marvelous they can be... of course, as a dancer, I was thrilled not to have them. As a mostly retired dancer, BRING THEM ON!

On a serious tip, it's been a long and shitty week in both business and preggo land. I needed something silly and joyful to think on for a bit. Boobs, you did it. Thanks again for being the luscious mounds that you are... even if you're - dare I say it? Starting to sag under your own weight.

Oh, dear.

What now?

Riding the Metro. Or not.

I rarely ride the metro. When I do, it's due to car repairs or lack of public parking at my final destination. I would love to be a regular rider, but it's not realistic with my parenting world right now.

However, this week gave me pause - would I love to be a regular rider? Now, I'm not so sure.

My car was in the shop, so I was on Metro for two days. Two days = 4 trips = $9.30. Plus, the RED LINE ALWAYS HAS TRACK DELAYS. Seriously. Last night, I waited 30 minutes for a train. There was a break-down on the tracks between Ft. Totten & Brookland/CUA.

Even if I wasn't 8 months pregnant and dead-tired from a long day of work, I would have been upset. It just doesn't make economic sense for our public transportation to be more expensive than driving AND less reliable.

Is this the best we can do in the DMV? Really?! Grrs.

I can feel it expanding.

My ass. It's getting bigger by the second. The rapid expansion is partly due to the regular course of pro-creation, but part of it is due to the rebellion within my own body. Apprently, this time around, my body does not want me to do much of... anything.

Yesterday, after a normal Sunday of being my daughter's taxi service to rehearsal and back, some housework, dinner making, etc. my body rebelled. I have an inflamed tendon on my right ankle.

WFT?! It's not like I was running a 10k just for kicks.

I am experiencing serious brain/body disconnect. Either my brain is completely shut down, rendering me capable of 7th grade reasoning; or, I feel like a capable human - only I can't walk.

GRRRRRSSSS!

And, if one more person tells me how "normal" this is, I'll deck 'em just for stating the obvious. However, it's not my obvious. Last time I carried a kid around in my belly, I wasn't bed-ridden and moronic. Just moronic.

Sorry for the rant, I'm just not used to the ass yet.

Wishes

I wish

You understood

I had more patience

You saw my mind

I gave you more

You would ask

I could wait

You needed to

I didn't

You well

I might

You'd hurry

I'd stay

You saw

I'd say

You knew

I'd g(r)o(w)

NPR & PBS on the GOP Chopping Block

If Big Bird can lobby, so can you.

Add your voice here: http://www.credoaction.com/campaign/dont_defund_npr/?rc=homepage

News stories here:

http://www.politico.com/news/stories/0211/49651.html

http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=4698411

Belly Laughs and stuff

So, apparently I cry all the time now for no good reason. What I've realized is that it doesn't matter if there's no reason. Upset is upset. It's also upsetting to not really know why you're upset. And, when your partern needs a reason why you're upset so he can help/fix it/support, etc - it's even more upsetting. More upsetting = more tears = viscious crying cycle. Sigh.

My friend lent me a book by Jenny McCarthy, Belly Laughs. It made me laugh so hard I cried. I highly recommend it; not for the sage advice, but for the laughs. At a time in your life when crying is the norm, a good laugh out loud at a book moment is just what the Dr. ordered.

Thank god I step back into the rehearsal room next week. I can't take this baby prep phase anymore.

Not such a scam after all...

I had my first child when I was 23. She was a speed bump... my body didn't change that much and I never had to wear maternity clothes. I danced up until I delivered. It just wasn't that big of a deal.

9 years later, I'm pregnant with child #2. It's a very big deal. I mean the changes to my body, gah! I used to think that maternity clothing was such a scam. "Just buy bigger sizes, borrow clothes, or wear skirts, people!" I would say to myself. I just didn't get why you would actually need specifically made clothing.

Consider me converted. My parents sent me maternity pants and a couple of shirts that are stretchy, comfy and fabulous. But, it's not just that... they FIT. Meaning... I look good in them. Others noticed. For the first time in my pregnancy, I got serious compliments on my appearance. And I was wearing sweatpants.

Clothing that fits your shape - whatever that shape may be - makes you look better. Not to mention comfort. I was comfortable. I don't think I realized how much discomfort, and sometimes pain, I was feeling in my regular, baggy gear.

Now I am craigslisting and neighborhood list-serving searching for gently used maternity gear. I can't subsribe to spending a wad of money I don't have on a whole new short-term wardrobe (though I'd love to do just that!)

Perhaps it's kid #2, perhaps it's being a thirty-something and not a twenty-something... but whatever. Bring on the preggie clothes!