No more fancy pants

Sweet Pea has been exposed to a little culture the last couple of days. Last night we went to a birthday party for a friend of my dad. Papa wanted to show off his grand baby so the two of us got to tag along. For the party, they rented out Copa and Eliza Gilkyson played. I'd never seen her before so that was fun. It was Sweet Pea's first show. She seemed to enjoy it. Since it was a little loud we didn't stay the whole time, but papa took her up front and danced with her for a few songs.

Today, we took her to the Blanton. I thought since she enjoys looking at the pictures in her books so much that she might enjoy looking at the art. I wasn't surprised when she smiled and cooed at many of the paintings. I was surprised at how much she enjoyed the European collection since I'd assumed that she would have preferred the primary colors in the modern section. She liked the babies and the cherubs.

At the museum I got to check out how the college girls were dressed and be reminded of how little I think about my apearance before I leave the house. I don't wear outfits anymore. I don't accessorize. Unless you count a sling as an accessory. My thought process is more like this: Does it fit? Is is clean? Can I nurse in it?

When I go shopping I am invisible. I'm not so slovenly to be suspected of shoplifting but clearly not cool enough to buy anything in your hip South First boutique. I know the difference because sometimes I shop with friends. I have seen the way store clerks perk up when certain friends of mine walk in. I don't know how they know but they're right. I'm not spending $250 for a pair of jeans. I'm going to Last Call if I ever feel the need to wear designer jeans again. But something tells me that since I will never again fit into the 7 jeans hiding in the back of my closet, my fancy pants days are over for awhile.

fighting the baby blues

First, thank you to everyone who sent me such nice e-mails in response to my last post. I'm happy to hear that I still have friends. Also, I didn't think that anyone was reading my blog, so that was pretty cool. And Donna is putting on her superwoman cape and driving all the way from Dallas in her fancy hybrid to cheer me up. My heroine! (BTW, this probably means I'm putting off Ashtanga until Wednesday. I mean, come on, the woman is driving all the way from Dallas to hang out.)

I just sent this in an e-mail to Ravyn and didn't feel like typing it again:

I told my parents how depressed I am/have been so they've been trying to keep me busy today. My dad is a fervent believer in the idea that all mental problems can be solved through physical exertion. So, first thing this morning we headed off to the hike and bike trail with Sweet Pea in the stroller. After that we had breakfast at El Sol y La Luna then went shopping at Whole Foods. Came home, collapsed and slept for a couple of hours. Woke up, had a late lunch then Dad coached me through a 30 minute power walk on the trail in the greenbelt. You should have seen us. He looked like he was talking a leisurely stroll and here I come behind sweating, struggling and gasping for breath. He's always been the athletic one in the family. He says the power walk is going to happen every day. I can't knock it though. It did make me feel better.

Odd girl out

I have a fear that I will eventually be alienated from all my friends. My single friends will no longer feel they can relate to me because I'm now a mother. My married friends will have a hard time including me since I'm single. But so far, most of my friends are still my friends. A few friends dropped off the map after I got pregnant. Maybe they thought that I could only talk about baby stuff.

When I was very pregnant, maybe 35 weeks or so, I was having lunch with my good friend Donna when we ran into a couple of our friends from law school who joined us. Sadly, I couldn't keep up with the conversation at all. My focus had shifted. I was voraciously reading pregnancy and baby related material and was paying very little attention to state politics. I can't deny that my interests have changed.

Making Progress

I just pumped and got three ounces. Slowly I'm getting better at this so I'm going to hold off on getting a fancy pump for awhile.

Sweet Pea has been out like a light all night long. Hasn't even woken up for a snack. I, however, have been awake since 1 a.m.

We went to Ravyn's tonight (last night) and did a meditation to honor the 120th day of her pregnancy. According to Kundalini teachings, that is the day that the soul chooses its parents and enters its physical body. It was a beautiful meditation. But for some reason it has me all keyed up. I don't know why because it was a very peaceful meditation. There were two other pregant women there besides Ravyn. Maybe I picked up on some of that pregnancy insomnia. I haven't had it this bad since I was pregnant. Ugh. Tomorrow is going to be rough. Maybe the pregant ladies are having a great night's sleep tonight. That would make this insomnia worth it. Wouldn't it be cool if you could donate a good night of rest to a hugely pregnant woman? I'd do it.

Pumping Sucks

Since I'm planning on going back to yoga soon, I decided to get a breast pump just in case Sweet Pea needs a snack while I'm in class. Although if I plan my feedings right, she should need one. I should be back in time for her next feeding. With this in mind, I didn't want to shell out $250 for a fancy breast pump, or $50 plus $70 a month for a rental, so I just got the cheapie one. I know, I know I probably just wasted $32 bucks, but I'm going to work at it. Maybe with some practice I can get better. If not, I'm skipping straight to renting a hospital grade pump. I'm not messing around with any mid-range electric. I have several friends who bought an electric and are now renting pumps. I am getting slightly more milk with each attempt so I think I'm making progress. This pump would not work if I was going to be gone for more than a couple of hours at a time since I'm only able to pump an ounce per session. But since I'm only using it so I can go to a yoga class, I think it will be OK for now.

Still, it sucks. Literaly and figuratively. I can't stand the way it stretches the nipple out. At least when my nipples are in SP's mouth I can't see the horrible distortion taking place. I can't look when I'm doing it. Also, my forearm gets tired from the manual pumping. But the worst part is pumping for several minutes when nothing comes out. It's just so discouraging.

Back on the Horse

On Monday, September 17th I will attend my first post-baby Ashtanga class. Yes, although I have thought of every excuse in the book not to, this Monday I will be in that class. Unless the teacher doesn't show up, in which case my first class will be Wednesday.

According to this article a woman should wait three months after giving birth before resuming a full primary series practice. On Monday Sweet Pea turns five months, so my excuses are starting to look pretty thin. Since I only have six more days to make excuses, I might as well start getting them out of the way.

Reasons why I should not go to that Ashtanga class:
1. I'm too fat for any of my Ashtanga appropriate yoga wear
2. I'm too flabby to be seen wearing anything tight, clingy or form fitting.
3. Hormones are making me hot. If I have to practice in a warm stuffy room I might pass out.
4. What if my breasts start leaking? Worse - what if my breasts leak while I am being adjusted?
5. I have no upper body strength. A decent Chaturanga Dandasana is out of the question.
6. I have no back flexibility. Urdvha Dhanurasana might make me cry.
7. I'm a nursing mother! I can't go 1.5 hours without drinking anything!
8. Did I mention that I'm fat?
9. I'm so tired. I don't think I have the stamina. Breastfeeding mothers are supposed to relax.
10. It's been so long that I've forgotten the series.

And the hardest part will be that I can't stand to be away from my Sweet Pea for a whole hour and a half. The good news on that count is that I doubt I'll be in class for near that long. I've never actually seen anyone get stopped prior to Marichyasana but I can see myself getting stopped much, much sooner when I am collapsed on the floor gasping for breath.

But, I wouldn't accept these excuses from anyone else so I'm going to stop accepting them from myself. I will be in that class.

yoga quiz

This was a very silly quiz so I'm not too worried about the results. I don't really think that I'm a yoga snob.

I'm a Yoga School Snob!

A Yoga School Snob If your yoga school had a grading scale you'd make straight As. You've found a yoga style that resonates with you, so you devour every morsel of information that comes from your teachers' lips and apply it to your practice. You've read all the books, twice. You put your mat down in the same place in every class, and your best friends are all the people who put their mats down beside yours (they're yoga geeks, too). But be mindful not to leave others out of your unique community. Beginning students and followers of other yoga disciplines have a lot to offer, too. Welcome them warmly, and keep an open mind about what you can glean from a new perspective.

Take the Yoga Journal Yoga Snob Quiz!