"Clay Sculpture Night At Prenatal Class"

Really, the title does say it all. Last night, at prenatal class (#3/8, we brought the snacks), we learned some pain coping mechanisms, some physiological things about the act of birth, and we made clay labyrinths.

Sorry, labORinths. (Their spelling.)

Now, I know some of the women in the class are embracing this wholeheartedly as a paradigm to encompass their experience of becoming a mother, but I sadly could not subscribe to the idea of tracing the labyrinth as a metaphor for anything. Yes, it was a little diverting. I guess I'm just not that New Age. I was filtering out the mumbo jumbo & having fun getting OCD with the clay. I let the man roll the clay flat & create the shape, but I was in charge of finishing. The man got the trimmed bits off of the edge & made a baby out of it. And also the occasional sotto voce smart ass remark.

I wrapped the baby in moist paper towel & the labORinth & the baby up each in saranwrap. Now they're sitting safely in the microwave, and we are so going to kiln those. I think the labORinth may have more of a future as a trivet than a device for labor.

The pain coping things were good though - there's lots of good information wrapped up in the emotions. What I'm finding most interesting is how everyone else seems to feel about the whole thing - there's a ton of FEAR out there, my goodness! And not just little fear, but big, monster hiding under the bed, world is going to END fear. And some of the ladies in my class should be really congratulated because they're taking steps to deal with & confront their fears.

Of course, scheduling an elective caesarian is also taking steps to deal with fear. And really, who am I to talk? I'm afraid of goldfish.

All right, the kid has just given me the series of kicks that I interpret as "You've been sitting up way to long, Mama, go lay down because I like the night life, I want to boogie."

Why so stabby? Well...

If I ever catch or hear of ANY of you not offering your seat to a pregnant lady, especially a pregnant lady with mulitple bags, on the extremely crowded early morning train, I will skin you alive with a pair of baby nail-clippers.

Which I guess isn't exactly stabbing, but still.

I love the color.

I really do. I've got the paint swatch in my purse, & I stop in to the baby's room at different times through the day to see how the color looks in different lights. We still need to get a mattress for the crib, of course. And a baby monitor. I'm mulling my options for nightlights too. And there's some furniture that I want to grab from Ikea as well.
.
Some, perhaps all, maybe even those & MORE! things are scheduled to be accomplished on Saturday. I was leaning towards having individual after-work missions, & gathering things an item at a time. However, the man voted to "just do it Saturday". So we're going in for the mass item hunt - we'll be stampeding baby accoutrements over the edge of the nearest cliff, we will. I wasn't sure it was a good idea, but as a) he agreed to go shopping & b) agreed to go shopping, I'm just going to go with plan "Buffalo Jump".

.
And of course, here is a picture of the baby's room - in the interests of keeping the suspense going for Mom & Dad, we've taken camera technology WAY back, & carefully removed the color from each & every pixel in this image. (Well no. The man set the camera to black & white. He actually showed me how to do it to, but given my brain's state these days, I'm pretty sure I'll just get him to do it again, as opposed to me getting lost in the maze of options & setting the camera so it only responds to Portugese. Or something.)
.
But I digress! The baby's room, ta-dah!

I really do love the color. I like it in the morning, & in the afternoon - I like it in the evening, underneath the moooon....

.

I haven't sat in the chair & rocked my belly yet though. I'm saving that for a day when I need a treat.

.

Speaking of treat, we began pre-natal classes last night - we had worked ourselves into a frenzie of hippie paranoia about the whole thing. Oh my god, we said. Eight classes at two & a half hours each? My god. Initial portents were ominously drum circle - our first task (after name tags, which I was glad of - like I'm going to remember ANYONE's name) was to "take some pastels & do a quick sketch of what our image of labour is".

.

I carefully avoided Pat's eyes, & thought "Crap! I paid for these! I signed us up! Crap!"*. We each drew pictures & then journalled briefly about what the image meant to us.
.

Neither of us wrote "Strike ONE against team hippie." Turns out this was a wise choice, as we turned them in at the end of class.

.

Thankfully, the whole thing improved, & my man even said "That wasn't so bad." It really wasn't. Stay tuned, I'll be sure to let you know what we do next week.

.

I'm going to go & see if I can teach my serger Portugese. Actually, it's more likely to teach ME Portugese - there are languages in the manual that I don't even recognize. Could be Aramaic, for all I know.

.

*-And today, I read a blog that made me feel MUCH better about my goofy prenatal class - check it out; she's a Brit & does swear some, be warned.

http://yetanotherbloomingblog.blogspot.com/2006/10/hippies-at-three-oclock.html

Holy Cat, A New Post!

Other new things (in reverse chronological order):

1) A new color in the baby's room. The man painted it today, & it covered - in one coat! - the noxious picky/mauvey/purple the previous owners had painted it for their little girl. Now, I'm not going to say what color we did pick... but it's very vibrant & I'm pleased by it. But don't assume we're having a boy just because we painted over the pink. If we have a daughter that wants that pink, then we would certainly support her in that. Of course, that particular shade of pink would require a direct request, pleading, etc.

2) New kitchen appliance - waffle iron. Screaming waffle iron, actually - I'm not sure where steam is escaping from, but it consistently creates a high pitched whistle that makes it seem more like I'm boiling lobsters that cooking waffles. I'm sure the waffles don't enjoy it any more than the lobsters, it's just that they're not usually so vocal about it.

3) The last trimester! Yes indeed, time flies when you're gestating. It's been going splendidly. I'm beginning to be exceedingly curious about the Fishy, & what color his eyes will & hair will be, & what kinds of personality trais she'll have from me or her dad or nowhere in particular ("My family doesn't do that!" "Don't look at me - neither does mine!")

3) New Year! Yes, it came, it went, we went out for a marvy supper where people kept missing the fact that I was pregnant. Maybe understable in dim lighting with a front view, but if you catch the side view in a well lit bathroom, it's pretty hard to mistake the bump for "Oh my, that poor woman has already filled up on breadsticks!"

Of course, you REALLY can't miss it in when I'm my pjs. After a big meal.


4) My new job - I am (apparently) the hostess of the All-Night Dance Party, starring Fishy Robinson doing his interpretaion of soft shoe tapdancing, the electric boogaloo, the slide, the shuffle, the charleston, and pretty much everything else, too.

5) Xmas! Xmas had many fabulous things, with most of my arm waving being elicited by the team of co-cahooters, Pat, & Sarah & Coreen. Sarah & Coreen got me a Kitchenaid mixer, & Pat got me a Pfaff serger!!! If you are even the least bit foggy about either machine & what wonders it possesses/can accomplish, please feel free to call & listen to me burble. Assuming that I quit making waffle batter or sewing polar fleece for long enough to answer the phone, that is.
Other good Xmas-ey things - the man got a router, with bits & books too. And he got a case of his favorite blueberry jam, too. So now I can make scones guilt-free ("Do you know how far we have to drive to get more of that????"). And I did. Using the mixer. And they were tasty.

6)My birthday - yes indeed, I'm now all of thirty years old. The kid removed the "drink to celebrate not being any wiser" option for my birthday, so I endorsed the "If one dessert is good, then two would be better, & three would be totally awesome!!!" plan. (Staggered over 8 hours, of course. With a fantastic meal at the Osteria de Medici interspersed as well.) The kid approved, although the next morning was quite quiet. I was a little concerned, & then realized awww, the baby's having it's first sugar hangover! Awwww!

7) The kitten's first Xmas tree - I'd forgotten that any cat's first Xmas is accompanied by sever beating until said beastie realizes that although that may LOOK like one big, sparkly cat toy, it is NOT FOR CATS TO TOUCH. No real disaster - & I suppose it is good practice for next year, when we will need to tie the tree to the ceiling.

And that's all that I can think of - and I'm hungry now, to boot. So, prepend the notes above with "supper", & that's me, caught up until 6:09pm.