My brother went back home today, which is a little bit relieving. It's just hard to be hospitable when you are worn out and hungry. Not that he's a demanding guest. He even did the dishes once! Doing the dishes is the way to my heart.
I'm reading Anne Lamott's "Operating Instructions", it's her journal from the first year of her son's life. I've always loved her work, and this is no exception. She's just so candid. Her words are hilarious and heart-wrenching all at once. It seems I have a lot of weird, gross experiences to look forward to, as well as the wonder of experiencing the miracle of life.
I read an article in Spin magazine about being married to a band, and the sadness of loving a band even when they won't quit making music. It's called, humorously, "What happens when bands you love don't know when to stop". The writer talks about a relationship with Radiohead, and that they are wonderful artists but "slogging through their body of work can get so damn exhausting. Being in love with a band on the Hall of Fame career track is like maintaining a long-term relationship with that eccentric brooder you met in college . . "
This cracked me up in delight. I am indeed married to Radiohead. They are to me what Tori Amos is to Jamie. No matter what, for as long as they and I live, I will listen to every new and old album they create, every b-side that got lost in couch cushions and was dusted off by a wayward college radio station dj. I am committed to making this work. They are the eccentric brooder I met in high school and fell in love with, heart and soul. And I am forever entwined in this love.
I also read about their surprise show in London. And I ached with disbelief, why in the world was I not in London?!
Something to work on: gaining weight/eating more/eating healthier. I didn't gain any weight over the past month, which is okay by me, but this is the new me, with a baby inside, so I'm supposed to be putting on maybe a pound or so every couple of weeks. I also need to eat more. And more often. And healthier. How am I supposed to be eating these amazing, balanced, life-giving meals all the time? I have no idea. I'm up to my neck in assignments and fatigue. Hell, I haven't done the dishes in two days. Again! I'm such a rebel dishwasher. Hah. I'm supposed to be eating so much! I read this packet of info the community birth center gave me, and they put a big emphasis on eating a healthy well balanced diet during pregnancy, so they include a print-out of an example of one day. There is a snack or meal every two hours, exactly. There is a total calorie count of 2400. I probably haven't been reaching 1800, much less 600 more than that. I eat like a bird, and I don't know how I'm supposed to whip up all these healthy snacks and meals all the time. Even though our fridge and pantry are stocked, when I open either door, I just feel like grazing. Some grapes here, an ice cream sandwich there, a granola bar, some popcorn, a salad consisting solely of romaine and ranch dressing. This is not healthy eating. I need help.
Also: the packet declares that for three days after birth, mom (that's me!) needs complete bed-rest, and may not be left alone at all for those three days. I need a constant companion, who will help me, and help take care of the baby while I sleep my head off. Jamie, if you will, you are my first choice. Here's my plan for you: when I start dilating, Scott or I will call you. You can then jump on a plane at your earliest convenience, and stay with me for a few days. How does that plan sound?