Pardon My French

Finding a Rhythm

I am realizing how fine I currently am and how not fine things were for me before. Sometimes I still get panicked but overall I'm calm and enjoying life. I know that in the grand scheme of things, what happened at the birth was not a big deal; it probably happens often enough to get classified as common. But it was the biggest scare of my life and without wanting to get all Drama Queen-y on you, I honestly don't know if I'll ever get over it. But that's just me and I'm trying. I'm entirely grateful to the nurse, midwife, OB-gyn and pediatrician who were there and took care of my baby. Even though I've gotten all crankypants about certain medical personnel in the past who really do lack the human touch, I cannot say enough good things about the medical care I received here in France. At one point I joked that a home birth was looking good at the moment, but I'll never do that now. I would never risk it. But enough of that.

For the past couple of days the baby and I have gotten up around 6ish, which is way earlier than I ever thought I'd willingly get up. The last time I got up that early without secretly resenting it was between 1986-1989 when I leapt out of bed in order to tease my bangs into a giant tower and then poof up the rest of my hair around my face. Sadly, I neglected the back of my head, so God only knows what I looked like walking away. (Some of you reading this blog may know the answer; feel free to leave a comment if you wish.) Then came the official Shellacking of the Hair and Application of the Tinted Clearasil, just like they did at Versailles. My efforts took forever and were more often than not ruined by 2nd period gym class, no matter now hard I endeavoured to stretch the neck of the butt-ugly regulation t-shirt so it wouldn't destroy my helmet hair. Ah, the good old days. But I digress.

I enjoy my morning time with Slobberjaws. Today we took an early (for me) walk in the park a little after 8 a.m. It was practically deserted, with mist rising off of the lake and only a slight fall chill in the air. I passed a few joggers and a lone high school aged girl sitting on a bench, absorbed in a book. As I walked by I wished I had spent my teenage years doing something similar instead of fighting a hairy battle with gravity, but maybe I'll have the chance later on if I keep the habit and am able to drag my creaky old bones out of bed as the sun rises.

These past two days of rising early make me feel surprisingly content. Maybe I'm just used to lack of sleep so I can get up pretty much I choose now and run on adrenaline or whatever. It seems like I get a lot done and the baby is in a very good mood in the mornings (less so in the evenings). She's now able to sit up very well on her own and is making plenty of those new spitty sounds. She giggles when I kiss her neck and will gnaw on my collarbone, so I guess she's teething. These are not panicky moments for me and I treasure them.