oh huh huh huh huh let's...go to bed

Today we have a proper bed for the first time in our marriage. How did we do it? Charity, or course. My parents bought a new bed a few weeks ago, so we got their old bed. Our futon got hustled rather mercilessly out the door at the same time, and I think I was the only one to really mourn the departure of that bed. Even the Boy had nothing nice to say about our old bed; after almost five years of hanging his feet off the end, he's happy to fit onto the new-old bed. Sigh. I remember buying that bed the summer I started dating the Boy. It was the first bed I chose for myself and the whole process was shot through with anticipation.

Yes, the mattresses were so sprung that we needed to pile one on the other to avoid tossing & turning on pokey wooden slats. Yes, we created deep valleys in it when we lay down and woke up every morning after we'd rolled too close to one another in the night. Yes, it was small & short. Yes, it was the exact opposite of a safe family bed for an infant.

But I keep remembering how big it seemed in the futon store, and how my fevered imagination populated it lovingly & endlessly before we'd even taken it home. It was the first bed of our marriage and it was the place where Blake sparked & sprouted. And I can't help hating the new-old bed (with its new-old flat mattress and its new-old width) just a little bit.

At my postpartum group meeting last Thursday I met the woman who'd been in labour in the next room while I was giving birth to Blake. Her first midwife had been Hectate as well, but the Boy & I managed to go into labour just a bit ahead of them so we snagged her. (I had forgotten that Hectate had left the room periodically to check on her other client – one more detail for the labour story.) We both had boys on the same day. I like that.

Also on Thursday my mother & I went into Hogsboro High to visit with the baybee. It wasn't the calmest visit I'd ever had: everyone was behind one day due to the snow storm and they all rushed around to get ready for the next semester while I ripped down the remnants of my room decorations. Maybe I was just a bit put out because I know that when I return my room will be gone, never to return to me. I don't like the idea of returning to work as it is; I like the idea of returning to a floating room assignment even less. Blegch.

Everyone was thrilled to pieces with Blakers, even when he pooped through his second outfit of the day & took an hour out to nurse. My department head Grace gushed over the announcement, saying it was the cleverest example she'd ever seen. And I got to freak out my old yearbook teacher by commenting on one of his students and laughing diabolically. Poor guy – he gets to teach the little charmer who almost got me fired last year. At least he's got his whole career's experience to help. (I mean, I had that too, but there's a big difference between thirty years and zero.)

I sent this link to my prenatal group, and in return I was both flattered outrageously & asked how I had so much time to blog. Funny thing about that – I feel like my output has taken a dramatic downward turn, both in volume & quality. Still, those kinds of comments make me glow.

Unfortunately, that's the only thing to make me glow today. Blake has been experimenting with screaming through the night, and I've spent the last 2 nights dealing with a grumpy baby & a grumpy husband who’s finally experiencing firsthand what it's like to be me. Heh. I used to feel put upon because Blake woke every 2 or 3 hours to feed & wouldn't sleep anywhere but in the bed with us. Now he does all of those things and occasionally decides to bellow inconsolably at seemingly random intervals. At least before I could stuff a nipple in his mouth and go back to sleep. Silly sophisticated baby.

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- Rocketbride's adventure of 1/31/2004 08:09:00 p.m.