The pool:
Inspired, I signed Baby up for YMCA infant swim “classes.” The first one was yesterday. My best mommy friend and her 14-month-old joined us and there I ran into a woman I recalled from my childbirth classes. Sometimes it feels like I live in a small town, not a major metropolis. Anyway, the class was nice. We sang nursery songs and bounced in a circle and practiced capturing toys moving in the water. It was cute.
Baby really enjoyed the first ten minutes and was hailed as a “natural” by the instructor. She tolerated the second ten minutes, and the last ten minutes were spend cradled in my arms sucking her thumb to keep the sadness of being overtired at bay (the class is right smack in the middle of morning naptime) .
I felt sorry for the non-native English speaker there who didn’t know the songs; I theoretically speak Spanish (used to teach it at the university), but since having Baby have no confidence in my ability to have a coherent conversation. I am so much stupider. Maybe I’ll try tomorrow.
Also, my friend and I realized that our plan of having our husbands take the babies to class next week wouldn’t work; it was very much for mommies. I can’t see our husbands singing Ring around the Rosy and dancing around. Plus, the other ladies might feel uncomfortable in their suits with men around.
I didn’t get to pick her bathing suit (which I think is too low-cut, but otherwise adorable) because we had to buy a plastic-panted suit from the Y, and they only had one in her size. But it’s cute! And I’m glad she has the opportunity to get to know the water. She’s always had an affinity; when I was pregnant, every time I ran the shower or the sink, she would flip and kick.
The worst part about the class, besides the crying on Baby’s part, and all the ancient ladies on the other side of the pool waching me while I tried to calm her down, was that I managed to injure myself at this infant swim class. Seriously, I don’t know if it’s the c-section or what, but I seem to have pulled a stomach muscle climbing out of the pool. It really freaking hurts! How embarrassing. As part of the diagnosis process for this pain, my husband wanted to know when was the last time I’d done a sit-up, and I’m pretty sure it was 9th grade. The shame!
The beach:
My little family is off to the beach for the next week. We’ll be in Hilton Head, SC and plan to lounge around on the hammock and bike under the palm trees and probably not swim since it’ll still be too cold for that. I used to be excited but now I have some apprehensions: No internet–what will I do when I pump??? How will Baby sleep??? She won’t have her swing or anything–where will I put her when I pump??? (Of course my mom and husband will be available, so I guess I should get over it). Will she be okay in a new environment??? Should I bring utensils for solid-food feeding??? Ugh. Traveling with a baby is hard. We’ll be bringing the dogs and the parrot, too–a big affair.
I have so much to do to get ready–mostly laundry. The problem with laundry is that you can’t really rush it. The washer and dryer take time. There’s a lot of hurry-up-and-wait. Anyway, I can’t seem to wrap my head around using cloth diapers on this trip, so we’ll use disposables.
Tomorrow morning we have swim class, and then I’m going to try to keep Baby awake during the drive home and pump, then feed her and drive to my mother’s. My wish is for her to sleep the two-hour trip to my mom’s, and then be awake for a little while so we can visit my grandparents and I can pump and she can eat again, and then, (hahaha) sleep the three-hour trip the rest of the way to the beach. I won’t have any help getting on the road, either, because Husband isn’t joining us until Saturday (at which point I can see myself being so tired of being away from home that I just want to leave early).
I really hope this is fun. I keep having fantasies about swimming and beach play with Baby and then I remember that the beach is not perpetually warm and sunny, no matter what I think. Well, I’ll still take pictures!
