My back hurts. My shoulders feel as though they've fused with my neck in one hard tangled lump. Tonight, when I tried running, I sensed my bones had shifted.
Oh yeah: They had.
Since Aida was born, my body has become something else. And I'm talking beyond the post-pregnancy pooch, beyond the extra pounds. No, it feels like my once fit-and-tidy body has become a walking experiment in aches and pains. Like with the birth of a baby I added about 10 years to my life.
That's to say nothing about what it's teaching me.
Monday, March 21, 2011
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Aida's first fest: Crawfish festival in St. Pete
It's overpriced and all. But she didn't care.
She fought sleep for two hours to be able to enjoy it.
And when she got home, she napped for two hours straight.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Through the night
I awoke for no reason, then reached for my cell phone to read the time.
3:12 a.m.
Wait. 3:12 a.m.?
Aida wasn't awake. She'd been asleep since 6:30 p.m. She always wakes up before now. On a normal night, this might be her second time crying out for help, food, attention, anything.
I lay there for a moment contemplating the situation. Bad thoughts flooded in, most of them colored by what I've read about Sudden Infant Death Syndrome.
3:12 a.m.
Wait. 3:12 a.m.?
Aida wasn't awake. She'd been asleep since 6:30 p.m. She always wakes up before now. On a normal night, this might be her second time crying out for help, food, attention, anything.
I lay there for a moment contemplating the situation. Bad thoughts flooded in, most of them colored by what I've read about Sudden Infant Death Syndrome.
Monday, March 7, 2011
All because it's Carnival time
Our best calculations indicate Aida came into cellular existence sometime around the nine-day stretch that encompassed a Saints Super Bowl win and Mardi Gras 2010.
What can we say? It was the happiest nine days New Orleanians have had since before the You Know Whaticane.
Last Lundi Gras, I spent the night smashing metal trash can lids together like a little kid and dancing with the zeal of an idiot aerobics instructor along with the Noisician Coalition, a glorious white-black-and-red mess of a marching krewe.
Steve laughed at me all night long from behind his red and gold Mardi Gras mask.
My sister, a dedicated member of the Noisician Coalition, had given us access to her costume closet earlier in the evening and invited us join in the night's noise parade. So we did, tromping through the Quarter with crazy, homemade instruments, entering one bar after another to overtake them with the improvised rhythms of a maniac clown krewe before spilling out onto the street again.
It wasn't the first time I'd joined the Noisician Coalition on the parade route, but for some reason it was the funnest -- and it quickly melted into my favorite Mardi Gras day to date, one characterized by great joy, communal mirth, and absolute silliness with family and friends. (At one point, I was playing tambourine with a musician on the Moon Walk, ferchrissakes.)
Which brings me to this Mardi Gras weekend.
What can we say? It was the happiest nine days New Orleanians have had since before the You Know Whaticane.
Last Lundi Gras, I spent the night smashing metal trash can lids together like a little kid and dancing with the zeal of an idiot aerobics instructor along with the Noisician Coalition, a glorious white-black-and-red mess of a marching krewe.
Steve laughed at me all night long from behind his red and gold Mardi Gras mask.
My sister, a dedicated member of the Noisician Coalition, had given us access to her costume closet earlier in the evening and invited us join in the night's noise parade. So we did, tromping through the Quarter with crazy, homemade instruments, entering one bar after another to overtake them with the improvised rhythms of a maniac clown krewe before spilling out onto the street again.
It wasn't the first time I'd joined the Noisician Coalition on the parade route, but for some reason it was the funnest -- and it quickly melted into my favorite Mardi Gras day to date, one characterized by great joy, communal mirth, and absolute silliness with family and friends. (At one point, I was playing tambourine with a musician on the Moon Walk, ferchrissakes.)
Which brings me to this Mardi Gras weekend.
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