The Pregnant Waddle

Pre-Pregnancy Weight Just Around the Corner (It's Trying to Run and Hide)

Friday, October 28, 2005

The hills are alive

with the sound of Mordor.

Hilarious, Peter. Very very good.

Tuesday, October 25, 2005

Ngaire’s first haircut, or, The cry of the velociraptor

Last Wednesday, Ngaire had her first haircutting experience. I have a long history of getting a particular haircut, and then growing it out to my usual hairstyle (long and parted on the side). For the past few haircuts, I’ve played it safe and/or gone straight to my usual conclusion by simply getting a trim and some layers. This time, I decided to go all punk-rock on the world’s tushie and get bangs. So, after attending the Husbandlet’s talk at a conference at a big hotel in a small city, I packed the Squid into her stroller and we ventured out to a local mall.

Ngaire went to sleep on the way. She slept while I located the salon on the mall’s directory, while I trekked all over tarnation to get to said salon, while I waited for my appointment, and while I got shampooed. She woke up mid-haircut. Soon her angst was not to be contained by a mere stroller, so I held her on my lap for the duration of the haircut, causing both of us to get completely covered with little hair shards. Those hair-cutting capes, it turns out they keep off a lot of hair shards.

After the haircut, Ngaire had a blowout diaper, giving me a good excuse for changing her out of her prickly outfit. Incidentally, let me officially unrecommend Parents Choice diapers. In a pack of 48 diapers, around 35 of which Ngaire has used, we’ve had roughly 10,000 blowouts. My daughter and I were continually covered with poop. And that’s just disgusting.

Anyway, due to the hair shard and blowout action, Ngaire’s daddy gave her a shower that night, after which I wrapped her snugly and handed her off to the Husbandlet so I could take my own shower (which is always terrifying after a new haircut, because what if I can’t get the bangs to lie flat again or not look like rabbit ears?). Midway through, the Husbandlet entered the bathroom with a baby on his arm and said, “Your daughter is doing a velociraptor impression.” Sure enough, the Squid soon repeated her performance of (in sequence):

• Opening her mouth.
• Emitting a shrill, piercing cry.
• Attacking the Husbandlet’s shoulder or neck.
• Growling.

It was absolutely adorable.

Incidentally, Ngaire is back in Luvs; I’ve overcome a nagging penurious streak and didn’t even finish off the unused Parents Choice diapers in the pack. And would you believe it—we haven’t had a single blowout! Go on! Imagine, diapers that actually contain poop. Who knew?

Friday, October 14, 2005

Truly frightening

Husbandlet: There are more baby clothes you haven't gone through in the shed?
Me: Yup.
Husbandlet: They're multiplying.
Me: They breed. That's why it's dangerous to leave little boy clothes and little girl clothes alone together.

My baby!

This morning Ngaire inaugurated her first size 2 diaper.

Thursday, October 13, 2005

This morning

Me: This is the part of the story where we lay down the burp rag and then … then we SCOOCH the baby, and then Mommy lies down, and then, do you know what happens next?!

The Squid: Eh!

Me: Yes! There is milk!

(I typed all that one-handed.)

One thing a man should never, ever have to say, especially not to a pretty woman

“I’m at a disadvantage without my clothes.”

Incidentally, catch the MST3K version in Season 1; it’s hilarious.

Fascinatin’ baby

Ngaire is twelve weeks and three days old today. She walks, she talks, she sings, she dances! She is … The Amazing Super Baby!

OK, rundown of new developments: She doesn’t quite walk yet, but she can support her weight standing for rather long periods of time if someone else provides the much-needed Balance Component. Same with sitting. She LOVES the sitting and the standing. Not so much the lying on her back without people giving her the attention she deserves.

Talking: Oh yes, that girl can talk! Not English, of course, but she wants to communicate so much. The Husbandlet and I roll R’s at her just to see her eyes light up and get wide, and then she will start rolling R’s back at us (often more a guttural in the back of her throat, more of a purr, though two nights ago she did achieve an authentic Rrrrrrr). We talk back and forth like this for long stretches. She also has a wide repertoire of coos, gurgles, vowel sounds, a couple of consonants, and Wheezes Designed to Make Mommy Panic.

She sings along with me when I sing to her, sometimes, in a high-pitched coo that sounds a tad like whale talk.

She dances: well, no, actually, she just doesn’t dance. But she can projectile-spit her binky several inches.

I could go on and on about my wonderful baby, how she sleeps, how her cheeks are beginning to shrink (Meep!), how she works very hard at trying to grab her amoeba-shaped loopy rings toy when I dangle it above her, how she hates her carseat, how very patient and personable she is most of the time, how she went on a 24-hour pooping strike (Tuesday 2 p.m. to Wednesday 2 p.m.) followed by two of the most heinous diapers I ever hope to change. But I won’t mention any of that, because I know you’re all thinking:

Enough about the baby, Jordana; what have YOU been up to?

Well, I’m loving maternity leave. Loving it. I know it has to end, and the day after Thanksgiving break, it will, but I’m not entirely looking forward to that, though I do like my job. Alas.

I’ve been doing some writing (not on my blog, obviously). Also a lot of reading … I just finished Corelli’s Mandolin, and I have to agree with Peter that it is a good book with a terrible ending. Actually, it reminded me a lot of Candide in tone, content, and underlying message (meaningless, meaningless, everything is meaningless). I’m not sure I would necessarily recommend Corelli’s Mandolin, simply because it is a spiritually frustrating book to me, but it is well-written and I only feel like I wasted a little bit of time on it (the time it took to read the last couple of chapters). Go read Possession instead.

I finished my M.Ed. in curriculum and instruction back in August. And there was much rejoicing.

In other news, I have decided to become a Victorianist. I’ve been resisting this for awhile, because I wasn’t sure how much is left to say about Victorian literature. But I’ve never been content with the field of my M.A. (20th century British), and I’ve got a dissertation idea, so I’m switching. Tra la! You can all stop holding your breaths.

That conference I went to way back when? The one I said I’d blog about? OK, well, I guess I’m not going to, except to say that it was the kick in the pants I needed to get me back into academia. Graduate English studies are so painful these days, what with all the theoryspeak, but they do have a monopoly on English Ph.D.s. So I shall bottle through, because do we really want only theoryspeakers teaching undergraduates?

Of course, this is all rather in the future, as we are currently gestating the Husbandlet’s Ph.D. I guess you can go back to holding your breaths. In the meantime, anyone know a good online M.F.A. program? I’m only sort of kidding.

And finally

I am 26 years and six months old today!