life without internet

My life is so internet-dependent these days.

And I'm making a choice right now to not capitalize the word internet, I hope that is okay with you, Chicago. Sometimes I talk to Chicago in my head, and what is Chicago, anyway? Chicago is the god of words and how they should be used, or the god of editing. The orange-turned-blue bible.

That was a tangent.

We moved over the weekend. It all happened rather fast and I have some residual stress about it all that I can't shake exactly even though it's really quieter here. One of the more hectic aspects of the move was the forced vacation time that I don't have available but have taken anyway because we thought there was already internet (I almost capitalized it that time! Argh!) but really there wasn't.

In days bygone this would've meant I'd go somewhere else to work, but where can I take a baby these days and hang out and have a bed to lie down with him so he can nap? Answer: Nowhere. No working for me. P.S. New development: I have laid him (lain him? Can't remember. Chicago?) down on the bed and he has stayed asleep like three times recently! This happened.

I kept thinking in my internet-less time that I was going to do X, Y, Z when I got the internet. Like "When I get the internet, Imma do this," you know? But instead here I am being distracted and feeling like I'd like to take a nap. This is the way the internet works, folks. Why does my life have to depend on it?

The internet is awesome in some ways though. The other day I went to John's Marketplace which is this random grocery store we live close to now. I went there because I sometimes love grocery stores and also because Tim was going to die or kill or something bad if I couldn't get him ice cream. I decided while I was there that I'm not going to go back unless I'm somehow aware of a good sale occurring therein, but the point is that while I was there I heard this song that I think I've heard before and I wanted to know what it was called and who wrote it and such. If I'd had internet in that moment, that burning desire to know might have been satisfied. But alas, I can't remember the lyrics well enough to ask Google now. Something like "I wrote you this letter just to tell you I'm alright." I don't know, probably some dumb breakup song. Who cares about songs like that these days? I'm married now and I'm not gonna break up with nobody. (Sorry, Chicago.)

odd dreams

Last night I remember dreaming about this thing I saw on Pinterest to clean cookie sheets with tea tree oil. In my dream it worked really well. I haven't tried it in real life.

I also dreamed I was giving birth to my little guy again but this time he was a twin with a baby sister who followed him after. I haven't tried that in real life either.

mango

I cut up three ripe mangoes last night and refrigerated them and now I'm eating them and it reminds me of that one time I went on a road trip and got one of those Costco bags of dried mangoes and ate like the whole thing in like ten hours and like I couldn't stop eating them mangoes and now I feel like I can't stop eating these mangoes.

hooray to self

I'm finally starting to fit in pre-pregnancy jeans. I was thinking about it the other day, and I gained 40 pounds in 3.5 months at the end of my pregnancy. Now, 3.5 months post-partum, I've lost 40 or more. It makes me want to say something pithy and proud, like "Hey guys, check out my new weight-loss program! It's called having a baby!" In terms of weight loss in the usual sense, I suppose this is cheating, though. Also, I can't lie to myself and pretend I'm the bee's knees, physically. I'm egregiously unfit right now, weight loss aside.

But in case you wanted to know, other pithy sayings that describe my life currently might include, "My new perfume is called spit up, a.k.a. baby vomit." Gross, right? Generally it doesn't stain, though. And my philosophy about laundry has always been this: if it ain't stained, I ain't gonna wash it.

blog edit

Wouldn't it be so rude if I went around the Internet and left comments on blogs and articles and such only to point out minor grammatical mistakes? So rude. Everyone would think I was such a hater. Experience in editing has taught me the importance of being nice when offering criticism and correction. I think I'm a little better about that than I used to be, but it's still kind of tough. Criticism and correction can seem so JUDGMENTAL.

So instead, I'll just leave comments like: 'I think you meant "fewer" not "less," but I still like your blog post!' 

Actually, scratch that. No comment.

watched: Under African Skies

We took the little man to an outdoor film at Red Butte Garden last night. I was a little nervous that he'd start screaming and there would be no quick escape, and I hate being in public when he is screaming. Unwanted attention to the max. Last week he was doing just that, screaming, and I took him for a walk outside because that seems to help him fall asleep sometimes. A woman from India who lives in a neighboring building stopped me to ask about him. Her curiosity was friendly and intended to be helpful, but I suppose it seemed ill-timed. Trying to hear her over the wailing and respond to her queries about what was wrong with my child (I think he's tired! Maybe gassy! I don't know!) proved somewhat frustrating. She said she heard him screaming at several points throughout that day (?). I thanked her for her concern, which I both did and didn't appreciate, and kept walking. He kept crying and then we were both crying because I wondered what was wrong with him, too, and what was wrong with me as a mother. Then I met Tim on my way back as he was taking out the trash and cried some more to him.

I digress. The point of that story was really just to say that sometimes I find it stressful to be around other people when my baby is distressed. Also, to point out how on display I've made myself recently. (Guess I've never had a problem in the oversharing department.) So an outdoor movie seemed like a risky move. But the baby did wonderfully well. He was contentedly awake near the beginning, then slept through the remainder. What a pleasant surprise.

When I wasn't worrying about whether the baby would start crying at any moment (smart), I was paying attention to the documentary. Overall it was interesting, focusing on Paul Simon's collaboration with black South Africans under Apartheid at a time when there was a U.N. Cultural Boycott. I love the Graceland album. Apparently so does Oprah Winfrey (she and Whoopi Goldberg appeared in the film to talk it up, which seemed kind of irrelevant--black celebrities talking about black people making music?). And apparently everyone loves Paul Simon and it was okay for him to ignore the cultural boycott in order to work his mad artistic genius and thereby provide some amazing opportunities to a few black South African musicians. I am not sure I agree with the slant of the film, but it was an interesting watch because I was completely unaware of the controversy involved with the creation of this music.

Here's a YouTube video of a concert performance of "Homeless" by Paul Simon and Ladysmith Black Mumbazo:

baby change

The first day or so after delivering Shepherd, I thought I was in for an easy ride because he was super mellow and hardly ever cried. He's almost six weeks old now, and he's kind of colicky and doesn't seem to sleep much. Actually, he's never been a champ sleeper. I get comments sometimes about how awake and alert he seems. I say a little too awake and alert, because "they" say babies shouldn't be up for six hours straight or something.

This picture is from a while ago and I can't believe how much he's grown already. Seriously, though, close your eyes!

Sometimes people ask me about him and I wonder what to say because I've never done this baby thing and don't know what they're like. I feel like I can't comment on his individualness because I have no baseline from which to compare. I assume everything he does is just a product of being a newborn. But then I hear other parents say that their baby doesn't scream every time they put him/her down (Shep wants to be held constantly, apparently), or that they only have to wake up once or twice during the night for feedings, and I think maybe this kid has quite his own little character. I really am looking forward to seeing what he's like as he grows. This blog post maybe sounds complainy, which I don't exactly intend, because I'm really loving this kid and being his mom. But I admit I feel that I should be able to do more when he's crying pretty constantly, as he sometimes does. Like right now.

baby breath

I have been wondering: why is it that my baby's breath isn't rotten after not brushing for a mere 24 hours like mine is? Not that I want to add teeth brushing into our routine or anything, but I'm just curious. Lack of teeth? Homogeneous diet?

that was a good story

Today I was changing little man's diaper and he started peeing. He seems to like to do that once the diaper comes off. I was impressed by the height of the arc so I moved my wrist, which was partially blocking the stream, to witness the truly remarkable trajectory. Then I realized he was getting pee all over the couch so I put my wrist back in the line of fire and successfully blocked the rest and saved that couch's  (fabric) hide.

getting there

My body is returning to its pre-pregnancy in most respects slowly but surely. My attitude toward food resembles how it was, which is a relief. I no longer find sweets very interesting. Drinking milk (I feel like I need to say cow's milk here because there's a different kind of milk that I'm dealing heavily with these days) is less desirable. Potatoes are just decent and not the stuff of my dreams. Tortilla chips with melted cheese (a.k.a. nachos) are no longer my daily companion. I'm getting reacquainted with hunger pains, which mainly took the form of nausea in my pregnant body, and I'm getting back into drinking water because I like it and not because I am forcing myself to hydrate.

It's hard to believe it's been nearly two weeks since I birthed a human child. Life is totally different right now and I feel like I have a long way to go until I can get back to doing things like cleaning, cooking, running errands, working, etc. I keep thinking of people who do this whole having a baby thing with a young'un already in tow and wonder how that's logistically possible. I'm pretty immobilized. The baby sleeps a lot and I try to sleep sometimes when he's sleeping too. When he is awake, he spends a lot of time nursing. He proves the adage that babies tend to do not much more than sleep, eat, and poop or pee. As his mother (I'm a parent?!), I'm doing much of the same for now.

Tim wrote about his birth story, which is posted on the married blog with some pictures: http://timandarowan.blogspot.com/

I could say a lot more about his birth, but maybe the blog isn't the best venue. It's all been pretty unreal and I'm coming to terms. It's amazing, though. I like to remember the moment when he first came out and the first few hours afterward, especially in the midst of some mild baby blues. I fell in love pretty hard right then.