123 Meme

This meme has been making the rounds. I’m not certain how I feel about the relevance of posting three sentences from a nearby book (and skipping the five preceding sentences), but what the heck.

I’ve been tagged by The Friendly Humanist for a new blog meme. Here are the rules:

  1. Pick up the book nearest you with at least 123 pages. (No cheating!)
  2. Turn to page 123.
  3. Count the first five sentences.
  4. Post the next three sentences.
  5. Tag five other bloggers.

The book nearest me with at least 123 pages is a book I’ve had in queue for at least 10 years. I pulled it off the shelf the other day to think about reading it (so little time, so many books). Here are the sentences:

R’tu enabled the sisterly cooperation and dietary control women needed to successfully bear larger-brained babies. R’tu braided the mental, physical, and spiritual together in ever-expanding spirals of cultural expression. We thus led ourselves along the course of our evolution by enacting consciousness.

This begs the question: What is R’tu?

It’s a Sanskrit word. If Wikipedia is correct, it means:

Ritu (?tú) in Vedic Sanskrit refers to a fixed or appointed time, especially the proper time for sacrifice (yajna) or ritual in Vedic Religion. The word is so used in the Rigveda, the Yajurveda and the Atharvaveda. In Classical Sanskrit, it refers to an epoch or period, especially one of the six seasons of the year, Vasanta “spring”, Grishma “the hot season”, Varsha “the rainy season”, Sharad “autumn”, Hemant “winter”; and Shishir “the cool season”, or the menstrual cycle.

This link doesn’t define it, but it gives a sense of the concept’s importance in Sanskrit literature.

The book I used for the meme is Blood, Bread, and Roses: How Menstruation Created the World. Here is how the author defines the term.

Ritual, fromt Sanskrit r’tu, is any act of magic toward a purpose. Rita, means a proper course. Ri, meaning birth, is the root of red, pronounced “reed” in Old English and still in some modern English accents (New Zealand). R’tu means menstrual, suggesting that ritual began as menstrual acts. The root of r’tu is in “arithmetic” and “rhythm”; I hear it also in “art,” “theater,” and perhaps in “root” as well. The Sanskrit term is still alive in India, where goddess worship continues to keep r’tu alive in its menstrual senses; r’tu also refers to special acts of heterosexual intercourse immediately following menstruation, and also to specific time of year.

This should be an interesting book. The author, Judy Grahn, is an American poet, was a member of the Gay Women’s Liberation Group, helped establish The Women’s Press Collective in 1969, and is co-director of the Women’s Spirituality MA program and Program Director of the MFA in Creative Inquiry at the New College of California.

As for tagging others, I’m copping out on this one. I barely have the energy to finish this post, and I’d like to eat dinner. Besides, I don’t want to wear out my welcome with friends and recently tagged five people for another meme. If you want to play along, feel free, and leave a comment.

State of Mind

Feeling: inexplicably irritable, edgy, tearful.

Coping by: drinking a cup of coffee (don’t nag me about caffeine), eating Santa Barbara biscotti (not in moderation), and ignoring my child’s aria as she swings unwillingly in her swing long enough for me to have a little break.

She’s tired. I’m tired. I need another biscotti.

So Big

Today was a Big Day. We went to the park, and Bean rode the bucket swing at the playground. She was thrilled. She grinned and flirted and giggled. She stared at the trees swaying in the wind. She watched other children run around. And then, I decided to see if she was big enough to sit in the stroller without being in the infant seat. And she was! So instead of facing me and looking up at the world, she faced away from me and got a whole new perspective.

I’m really pleased for her. It’s odd; I felt a little lonely pushing the stroller. Up until that point, I could always smile, coo, talk and sing, and she’d be engaged with me. The new position engaged her with the world. It’s a small reminder of the eventual direction her life will take, and it was poignant.

However, she isn’t through with me yet. I held her for two naps in the chair, and she fell asleep within three minutes each time. (I love watching her sink into sleep. She smacks her lips a little and turns her head toward me.) Then around 5 p.m. she got whiny; I pulled out the Moby wrap and she brightened. I put her in it and danced slowly to lullabies with her, and then she fell asleep against my chest.

Recipe For Fun

Ingredients:

1 nearly five-month old baby
Pet store
Parakeets in a big cage
Yourself

Take the baby into the pet store and push the stroller in front of the parakeet cage. Tap gently on the cage containing about 12 blue, green, and yellow parakeets. Say the baby’s name to get her attention and encourage her to gaze toward the cage. Observe the baby observing the parakeets as they flit, screech, tweet, twitter, and hop from branch to dangling toys to feeder. Notice baby’s rapt attention. When she turns to you with her first smile of enjoyment, exclaim how fun it is, smile back, and act excited. Watch her smile and giggle, then turn her attention back to the birds, then look again at you giggling and smiling. Continue for as many minutes as the baby finds it interesting.

Savor. Have as many as helpings as you can as often as possible.

—

Other fun: machines that do nifty things such as clean rug spots by themselves. Now that our cat is becoming older and has more, ahem, stomach and potty issues, and now that we have a child who will soon be eating solids and who drools a lot now, this seemed like a good purchase.

what parents buy for fun

A Mystery

Bean napped four times yesterday, only 30 minutes each. She last ate at 4:30 p.m. (only 21.75 ounces for the day). She was exhausted at bedtime (7:00). Usually she wakes around 11 p.m. to eat and then again at 5 a.m. Instead, she slept straight through until 5:00 a.m., ate, then Husband put her back to sleep. As of 7:20 she remains asleep.

This child confounds our expectations daily.

Oh My Aching Back

All those child-wearing advocates say it does wonders for your kid to be held and carried, but they what they don’t tell you is that you’ll end up with a back like Quasimodo at the end of the day!

Bean is very fretful and needy the past couple of days because of the teething. She won’t nap longer than 30 minutes at a time, whether she is held in the rocker, worn in the wrap, or put in the swing. And if I lay her down on a play mat and go away but remain in her eyesight, she will tolerate it very briefly before breaking down in chest-heaving sobs. As soon as I return she holds her arms open to be picked up. Then she puts her head against my shoulder.

I’m not complaining (not much, anyway). The past couple of days I have felt such sweetness wearing her against my belly. I savor how she falls asleep while I hum lullabies and how her little head rests on my chest. I just wish I’d done Pilates or something to build up my core strength.

Changes

Bean wouldn’t consent to being carried face inward until recently (like the past week or so). Now that she can hold her head up, she can look around. Formerly, when she couldn’t hold her head up, she’d get mad about it, so I’d hold her facing outward.

Since she is teething and wants to be held a lot, I thought I’d try my Moby wrap again to spare my arms. She liked it! At the moment she is asleep in it. I’m sitting at the dining table with the laptop, typing with both hands, whoot!

bundled and loving it

I’m Still Here

I haven’t disappeared. I’ve not had access to a computer for several days. The upgrade to the new OS (Leopard) has not gone smoothly. Another reason I’m not around much: I have a teething baby. Whee!

I should go to bed so I can be somewhat fresh for the poor little baby tomorrow.

Five Things In My Fridge

Eden tagged me, and I haven’t played a meme in awhile, and so why not?

A Texan’s (and yes, we still consider ourselves as such) diet must include some of this:

5thingsinmyfridge1

Good with carrots and other veggies:

5thingsinmyfridge2

This stuff really is better than boullion. It’s not as good as stock from scratch, but it serves well:

5thingsinmyfridge3

Husband eats the salsa like it’s manna from heaven, and I drink the V8 (an easy way to get some veggies):

5thingsinmyfridge4

Standard fruit supply:

5thingsinmyfridge5

Now it’s my turn to tag five people. How about:
Gerry
Shirley
Donna
Marta
Fran

…and anyone else who wants to play (leave a comment on the post).

Blustery Wet

On this stormy Friday, we actually went out. Bean and I went on a play date at a Las Madres member’s home. Talking with other women was a tonic for me, and Bean enjoyed watching the other babies. I also met someone who’s child was born the day before Bean at the same hospital. A happy coincidence.

I really liked going to the mom’s house rather than meet at the park. (Since the weather is perfect here from April to October, the groups are typically scheduled to meet at a park. Except if you don’t arrive all at the same time, you might miss each other.) So maybe some mothers will host at their homes, and we’ll make some friends.

Speaking of friends, this evening is the 40+ Mothers Night Out. I intend to go, despite the icky weather.

For giggles, please visit Do’s and Don’ts With Babies. Just don’t be drinking a beverage while you look at it. I had an unfortunate encounter with my V8 as I did. Thanks to Tiffany for sending the link!

Fiscal Physical Fitness

I’m middle-aged. I’m overweight. My muscle tone is weaker than it was a decade or more ago. I have a baby. My left knee still hurts from pregnancy. Hmm. I’ve got a bit of a problem.

In 2006 I joined Fitness 19; paid $200 to join and a $12 monthly fee after that. I used the facility sporadically in 2006, even less in 2007. But the monthly fee was so low, it didn’t feel like a huge waste of money. Previously I’d been a member of Curves, which at $40 a month grew too high a price for the limited access (they close part of the day and early in the evening), the limited kind of workout, and the intrusive, over-friendly staff who insisted on “engaging” women during a workout when they might just want to, you know, work out.

Well, tonight I attempted to go to Fitness 19 to work out for the first time since my late pregnancy. It’s located in a strip mall with a puny parking lot, but usually by 7:00 p.m. the place would clear out. However, tonight there were no spaces. People were illegally parked in fire lanes. And there were new signs in certain spaces that said No Fitness 19 Parking. I groaned with frustration. What the hell to do? I turned around and went home. Ooo, I was grumpy.

I was mad. Mad at the parking lot size. Mad at the stupid parking restrictions. Mad that people hadn’t gone home sooner. Irrational, I know. Mostly I felt mad about the limitations on my time. The only opportunity I have to go out alone is after 7 p.m. weekdays and on weekends. However, to be functional, I usually try to go to sleep at 9:30 p.m. daily. This doesn’t leave much time for eating dinner, cleaning up, working out, showering, socializing, or “me” time.

One of the biggest changes for me in becoming a mother has been accepting the loss of “me” time. Mothering calls for much more of me than I imagined. I don’t begrudge this; it’s simply quite an adjustment.

I’m trying to figure out how to care for my physical well-being. Someone suggested the YMCA. Membership is $100 to join and $52 a month, with reduced fees for classes, and reasonable baby sitting services. But at $52 a month, I’d need to be sure I really went; it’s a lot more money, and we’re carefully managing our expenses. The other option is to go out for walks in the evenings in the neighborhood (knee permitting).

But now, since I’m supposed to be getting sleep, I’ll close here. Maybe I’ll wake up refreshed with a solution.

Management Skills

I’ve always enjoyed Dave Barry’s humor. I also think it’s important to take politics with a dash of laughter, and especially to be able to laugh at one’s own politics.

The Democrats seem to be basically nicer people, but they have demonstrated time and again that they have the management skills of celery.

–Dave Barry

A Little Snack

Toe jam, anyone? 😉 Bean impresses us with her flexibility. People pay good money to learn how to bend this way.

We still aren’t sure what color her eyes will become. Sometimes they look hazel, sometimes gray, sometimes a little blue, and there is still some brown in them.

Notice the dark blob in the background? That’s Stella, also sprawled on her back, except she’s too fat and old to get her rear paw into her mouth.

I spend a lot of time on the floor these days. Our Music Together large family percussion set arrived. Lots of noise and fun! When I’m not on the floor, I’m often in the glider in her bedroom, holding her as she sleeps.

people pay good money to do this!

A Different Kind of Laptop

This post is being written quickly on a short break I’m getting. Husband is playing with and feeding Bean, after which she’ll be ready for her late afternoon nap. So I’ve tossed the thoughts into a post without much refinement.

On Friday I played hooky from my expectations of perfect mothering. I also decided to forgo the crying-nap battle with Bean by simply holding her for her three naps. She slept wonderfully and was completely cheerful. I did the same Saturday and Sunday, and I’m doing this today. We’ve had lovely days.

It occurred to me on Friday that perhaps Bean just isn’t ready to let go of me yet. She cries so hysterically when I put her in the crib. The timed intervals of waiting before “checking and consoling” do nothing constructive. She simply cries more and more, and it would continue for more than an hour if I persevered with this technique long enough. On the other hand, she nestles in so closely when I hold her. Her eyes close and she’s asleep within 5-10 minutes in my arms. She is the embodiment of contentment and trust. This is part of her childhood. This is important and necessary.

How many opportunities in life exist to be such a source for another? I’m not quite ready to let go of her either. As I hold her, I look at her sweet face in repose and bask in it. The weather is cold and rainy; I am warm and cuddly and soft. Soon enough it will be warm outside, and she will be bigger and more restless. A voice within says to relax and stop second-guessing myself.

Up until recently I was seeing the naps as something I “should” do a certain way. Must train child! Must use crib! Must get chores done! Well, she sleeps at night in her crib just fine, so it’s not that she can’t be “sleep trained” to her crib. There’s something else going on here. Rather than view the situation as a hindrance, what if I tilted my head a little to view it differently?

Holding Bean for her naps means I get to rest several times a day. I can sit and doze, or read, or think, or not think. Holding Bean means we bond and cuddle. Holding Bean means taking the moments and savoring them. Okay, so the laundry doesn’t get done while I hold her. So I can’t chop vegetables for a meal while I hold her. Well, then she can be with me while I do those tasks when she’s awake (along with all the playing we do). She can “help” Mommy.

What if I simply trusted myself and Bean? What if I cherished the way things are rather than trying to get us to do something the way others think it should be done? This is my child. She won’t be a child forever.

Yes, it can be tiring to hold her. My butt gets a little sore. At the same time, before she was born I did a lot of sitting anyway, only I was holding a laptop computer instead.

I Really Am In Love With Her

No one thinks my child is as beautiful and precious as I do, I know. But even if you’re not obsessed with my kid, I’m gonna post this photo anyway.

precious

Gee, my decision not to show photos of my child to the entire Internet didn’t hold, eh? (Though the majority of the photos are restricted to friends and family on Flickr. Speaking of which, there are more uploaded.)