Tuesday, June 19, 2012

Baby = here

Bonaventure (not his real name) (now that he's earthside, he doesn't have to be Lumpy Homunculus anymore) arrived at 4:30 in the morning on Thursday, June 14. He is a perfect and gorgeous little creature. I've always thought that newborns were rather funny looking; oddly enough, I seem to have birthed the one and only ideally beautiful child!

This is him, just minutes after birth. What a love. Every tiny part of his tiny body fills me with delight, and there's nothing sweeter than to watch his papa cuddle him.

A word about new-parenthood: I'd heard that it's hard, of course, and accepted that in a vague sort of way. But I really had no idea. You know how new parents often say that they consider it a good day if they get to take a shower? That's setting the bar pretty high, methinks. I put on deodorant this afternoon (yes, afternoon). I'm feeling pretty good about that.

And also: My entirely drug-free birth has given me oceans of empathy for women who opt for epidurals.

I'd thought, I guess, that if it's just pain, and nothing bad is happening to you, of course you can bear it, right? I'm good at managing pain and breathing through it, etc. Again: I had no idea. Childbirth has been utterly deromanticized for me. It is extremely hard work--no candles and soft music, here. I spent transition lying inert on my side (if I moved at all, I'd tense up and panic), howling, eyes closed, while TM, my mom, and my doula stroked my hands and shoulders. I wouldn't have been able to do it without their comfort and reassurance.

And as for pushing.... Suffice to say that I was naked, indifferent to decency, emitting unearthly sounds at a very high volume. I bit pillows and growled. I screamed and snarled and thrashed. My whole body shook. Later I was told that I frightened some nurses out in the hall--they aren't used to natural births and didn't know what could possibly happening in the room. Yes, I am Hard Core.

Now I just need to find a way to get to sleep before 3 am....

Monday, June 4, 2012

Two things that may or may not be real

1. A class I totally want to take: a combined history and cooking class on some particular geographic region. For every session, we'd do some readings on cultural influences and major historical events; listen to a little lecture; and then have a cooking class in which we'd make a historically accurate(ish) meal from the period being discussed that week. The course would start as far back as possible and move forward in whatever increments make it most (culinarily) interesting. Wouldn't that be a fun way to learn about cultural history?

The problem is that, as far as I know, I totally invented this concept and certainly couldn't teach such a class myself (not that I'm wanting to do more teaching, anyway). It came to me when TM and I were discussing medieval cooking over lunch--I'd reprised a quite tasty 14th-c./thereabouts dish that I made for my Chaucer class last year. I thoroughly enjoyed making medieval food for my class; I learned such interesting things! Like how to make a sauce gelatinous when one doesn't have access to corn starch.


2. I may not believe in the nesting instinct, but I just cleaned the toaster. (I'm due in a week. Anytime now, deary...or Lumpy Homunculus, as TM and I have taken to calling him/her, in honor of how lumpy my belly is much of the time.)

(I'm not sure that I don't believe in the nesting instinct; I just think that I'm generally so nesty and compulsive that such a thing would be largely unrecognizable in me. But I haven't cleaned the toaster...well, ever, at least not this toaster, which I bought when I moved to Field Town [for $6--I didn't actually expect to keep it] five years ago. You decide.)