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Does anyone out there know anything about jogging strollers? I need one now that I’ve got to train for the Detroit Half Marathon, and I can’t tell what kind to get. I’m worried that the BOB Revolution (with a lockable swivel front wheel) is too “all purpose” and won’t be the right thing for running ten plus miles with, but I’m worried that the Baby Jogger with the fixed wheel will be incredibly annoying for anything but running.
The other day I was nursing Eli and I thought something felt funny and I looked down and saw that he was nursing and sucking his thumb AT THE SAME TIME. Is clearly genius.
We’re going on another trip this weekend for my cousin’s wedding and I got some of those crazy Spanx underwear thingees to wear under my dress and holy wah. Worth every penny. I wouldn’t wear them every day, but if you just need to feel more confident and less bulgy at some kind of formal event or in a fancy dress they get the job done.
This will be the first time Eli sees the Atlantic Ocean, but I’ve now lost count of how many times he’s seen the Pacific. That fact makes me think I’m doing something right. Babies should be dipped in the ocean a lot, I think.
I’m going to run the Detroit Half Marathon and I’m inordinately excited about it. You get to run around downtown Detroit and cross bridges and run into Canada and run underwater! (in a tunnel). Now if someone would just sell me a nice cheap running stroller so I can get outside a little more easily with the boy…
Before E was born, I was slightly obsessed with finding non babyish non typical non baby blue clothes for him to wear. I bought a lot of red and stripes and polka dots. It’s now completely obvious that blue is his best color. That and if he wears red you can’t tell that he’s a boy. That’s ok though, on those days we just call him Barbara.
I’ve been rewatching the first seasons of Veronica Mars on DVD and it’s awesome.
Just finished HP, I surprised myself, but I loved it. Because I used to work in a bookstore my feelings towards Harry are always very mixed. I’ve never been a rabid fan – I of course found the whole hoo ha great because it meant kids were reading but annoying because it meant I had to work at midnight and try to figure out where your name was on a list of 7 million people and if you had your correct wristband blah blah blah. So Harry will always be inextricably linked to that whole “jesus, people, calm down” feeling for me. However I do have some signed stuff and while I have no idea of its real value I have a secret dream that Harry Potter is going to buy me a house in San Diego someday. Regardless I really enjoyed the last book, and it was kind of fun to feel like the whole country was READING together. If only we could to that with more than just one book per year.
I made grilled peaches for the first time while camping. Truly delicious, and I am not one for hot fruit.
We climbed a cinder cone volcano thingee on our camping trip. When we saw it for the first time and someone said “we’re climbing up that” I thought they were joking. Apparently I was picturing a smallish cinder cone volcano thingee. You know… a tourist photo op type of thing you lean up against and have your picture taken? This was…not that. This was a giant 75 degree angle beast of loose black lava. It was totally worth climbing it though because I received an excellent geology lesson at the top. Also I can’t complain too much because Mr. E carried Eli in the Moby Wrap which means he toted up an extra fifteen pounds or so in addition to his giant brain stuffed with important geology knowledge. With that Moby Wrap on he strongly resembled Brad Pitt, although I really doubt Brad Pitt could give such a stunning and well rounded geology lesson at the top of a cinder cone volcano thingee. I knew I picked the right man.
Do you think it’s rude to ask people in public if their baby is a boy or a girl? I could care less if people ask me, but I feel weird asking other people. Usually I just say “what a cute baby” and leave it at that.
On that note, what a cute baby!
Every once in a while I get it from just the right manicure or pedicure (when I’m not worried about how much it’s going to cost) and I’ve gotten it from lying under a sun so hot I can feel sweat splash off my eyelashes and there have been sun dappled afternoons in the car with maybe elvis playing on the stereo as the trees flashed by and I just felt like putting my whole head out the window of the car and lapping at the breeze like a dog. Music, drugs, backrubs, booze.
I suppose it’s called relaxation.
I never feel that way anymore. Maybe after a long really good run.
You feel scrubbed out. Tired, but free. Weightless. Calm. The things you say are funny. The world loves you. You can breathe.
I thought about this for three or four days and worried over it because that’s just how I am and also I thought I had pretty much figured out the secret of life. That we’re all just trying to get even maybe back to the womb or since we can’t do that, we;’re just trying to find some comfort, some peace, some relaxation, even five month babies are just gnawing away on their own fists trying to get high and feel happy. And so yesterday over pizza and beer I looked at Mr. E sideways and said “Do you ever think we’re all just looking for something in life that we can’t ever find, do you ever think in this life we’re all just searching for a peace we can never quite grasp, and we’re just trying to get back to our childhoods because that was the closest we ever got?” and as I said the words I realized the full import of what I was telling him and how I had finally figured it all out and how now he would finally realize just how fucked up I was and the world was and how his son would be someday be too and he looked back at me and just said. “Duh.”
And so amazingly sometimes I do find that peace I am looking for, right there across the table from me, in this person who doesn;t take me and all my seventh grade angsty shit too seriously. And who really does know how fucked up I am and who doesn’t care. Who even likes it. And loves it, and loves me. Not just anyway. But also because.
Happy Anniversary, Mr. E.
Thank you for being in this together with me.
I finally put up a set of pictures of Eli’s nursery on Flickr. You can check it out here, if you want.
(Note to self: Never refinish another piece of furniture for as long as I live.)
Breastfeeding has gotten so much better. To the point that Eli will be six months old in about 45 days and I don’t think I could give it up that soon, I think I’d be sad if I had to stop at six months. So we’re aiming for the one year mark and I am looking forward immensely to my one year of breastfeeding are you insane reward I picked out.
And I’m pretty much over my whole judgement thing. I don’t think much about whether or not other people are breastfeeding their kids, I really don’t care. I’m glad I chose to breastfeed, but I’m not so concerned with other people and their choices right now.
I’m not sure why this is. Partially I think it’s just that now that I am better at it and Eli is much better at it and I am much more used to it, it’s not so incredibly soul sucking anymore. I love that I have an immediate and never failing way of comforting my child when he is upset. And I appreciate that breastfeeding forced me to slow down, to chill out, to sit down and shut up and bond with my child already. And to be honest it hurt A LOT until about three months into it and when it finally stopped hurting that made a big difference. So breastfeeding is not something I hate to do anymore, and although I still don’t love doing it in public once you’ve had to breastfeed in the Detroit airport sitting on the ground by a trash can, you learn to get over yourself and you just do it.
Awhile back after I posted about breastfeeding and weight loss and judgement Mr. E and I were talking about how I was worried that my post had been misunderstood. Because I certainly understand that there are many many reasons why people don’t breastfeed but understanding those reasons was not helping me feel less bitter about how much it sucked for me and that bitterness was spilling over towards people who don’t even TRY.
However in the course of our discussion once again I was reminded of something I seem to have to learn over and over – since I was raised in a cloud of constant judgement I struggle with this a lot. Because the fact is that breastfeeding is not a moral issue. Losing weight is not a moral issue. You are not a good person because you breastfed or didn’t, anymore than you are a good person because you are fat or thin. You are not a good or bad person because of these things. You just are.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m still chained to the sucking succubus known as my son and there are some days I feel as trapped as ever by the breastfeeding. But I have let go of the moral judgement thing and truly, that’s also when I started to feel free.