Week 34- “I’ll be in the kitchen.”

Week 34- I can’t believe I’m already here. It’s sort of surreal, just being in a defined (and I do mean defined) phase of life that you can’t ignore and can’t change. No choice but to be in it- in the moment. This must be something of what it’s like to actually follow through with a plan. Normally I’d just get distracted and wander off to a new fascination by this point in a project. Now I wander off, toting my growing daughter, to follow shiny things that catch my fancy. Everything has changed, and surprisingly little has changed.

Clearly, I take myself seriously.

What’s changed: I’ve finally started waddling. Supposedly taking longer steps makes you waddle less- but ask anyone who’s every met me/danced with me/run with me/seen me in person. I’m short. I have petite legs, and now that those petite legs are supporting an additional none-of-anyone’s-damn-business-how-many pounds, the practice of taking longer steps is one that will have to wait until…never.

I need momentum and strategy to get out of bed/a chair/a car. It’s been a long time since basic movement required pre-planning. And I wander to the kitchen on auto pilot. Seriously, sometimes I find myself standing in my kitchen, looking around for I-know-not-what. My hubby jokes that if he wakes up at night and I’m not in the bed, he knows I’m down in the kitchen, eating. It’s my default location now.  Ironically, I’m sort of getting tired of eating all the time. (Please don’t throw things at me for saying that.) I’m not really a foodie and I don’t enjoy eating all the time. So I’m looking forward to not being demonically hungry all the time.

So, week 34- I’ve begun setting up the nursery in earnest now…sort of. There’s some heavy lifting that I can’t do alone. Fortunately, I have help and offers of help.

Many, many thanks to my friend Emily, who came over yesterday to help me work one the nursery, for doing in 2 hours what would have taken me a half day (and a nap) to accomplish. Here is where we are at right now: YouTube Video of Baby Howell’s Nursery.

I wanted to get everything prepped for the arrival of baby stuff.

So I’m now officially 6 weeks (give or take) away from a temporary disappearance from public life in any form. I hope to be back in dancing shape quickly and am looking forward to ‘training’ for Lindy Focus 11. I really can’t express how much I’m looking froward to running again. Or sleeping on my stomach. Or working up a good sweat working out. Or wine and sushi. There. Are. No. Words.

FYI to my dancing friends: The expanded Howell family will be traveling to The Big Easy for the Ultimate Lindy Hop Showdown in late September. That will probably be the first event I attend after Baby H’s birth, so even on top of the fact that I love, love, love NOLA with all my heart, I’m looking forward to it that much more. Having said that, if I’m a bit of an overprotective bitch while there (you know, making you wash your hands before touching her, drop-kicking anyone with a cough away from her, etc.), please chalk it up to New Mom Protectiveness and back away slowly. I’m legally immune from prosecution in certain states due to my hormone levels. Something about ‘temporary insanity.’

ARGH! I miss dancing!!!!

_______________________________________________________________________________

I discovered a blog this morning that I wanted to share. Here is the post she put up that caught my attention initially: An Open Letter To All Parents From A Non-Parent

I think I want to kiss this woman. Her other posts are captivating to read as well.  I really like her writing style.

Taken completely from her site, the following poem by Whitman and pic (read: I can’t take credit for this bit of daily inspiration):

I exist as I am, that is enough.
If no other in the world be aware I sit content,
And if each and all be aware I sit content

One world is aware, and by far the largest to me, and that is myself
And whether I come to my own today or in ten thousand or ten million years,
I can cheerfully take it now, or with equal cheerfulness,
I can wait.

~Walt Whitman

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