11 Days

Yesterday was my son’s due date, but he arrived 11 days early. I’ll spare you the labor and delivery drama. Mostly because the last 11 days have made me feel that going through absolutely anything for my little guy would be worth it. Yesterday, on the day he was supposed to arrive, his umbilical cord stump fell off. The last vestige of me that attached us for so many months. He is now his own whole person. He seems to still need me seeing as how he can’t quite focus his eyes on anything yet and has no control over his arms and legs. But my little fetus is definitely on the way to becoming a man. I actually think he’s an old soul. Something in his calm demeanor and the way he furrows his brow when he’s trying to look at something. A T-Bone Walker song came on Pandora and my son’s otherwise herky-jerky limbs started moving to the blues. Like he could relate to how rough it is out there. He gave me a look that said: “Mom, this guy knows some things. You can’t even attach me to your boob on the first try.”

We’re taking it one step at a time. In 11 days we’ve had many firsts. First bath. First car ride. First walk to the park. First trip to the doctor. It did bother me to learn that the first shot he’ll get from the pediatrician is for Hepatitis B. Um, that’s an STD. An STD he would get from having sex. My son isn’t having sex. Ever. Not even when some futuristic 2030 slut tries to seduce him. He may not be attached to me anymore, but his face is just too sweet to let me think about him having sex yet. His face is so perfect and smells so good that I give it kisses all the time. I figure at some point his body will start to catch up with his old soul and he’ll push away my kisses. So until then, I’ll give him more than enough pecks on his chubby cheeks so that I know he has a force field of mom kisses stored up in there somewhere protecting him most when he thinks he doesn’t need them. Especially when that drunk floozy tries to give my sweet baby hepatitis B at some high school party.

I’ll be here. Worrying. And remembering these first days. The first time he looked at me while we were nursing. The first time he held my finger. The first time he farted.

Who wouldn’t love this sweet face:

This is his favorite position:

“Mothers are all slightly insane.” 
― J.D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye

Trial By Fire

I haven’t blogged in over a month. Mostly this is because the past month has been a tad overwhelming. The ninth month of pregnancy has been…well…how do I put this? I’ve reached the pregnancy breeds contempt portion of the program. Don’t get me wrong, there is glowing and excitement. There are also lists and lists of nesting activities that need to be done before the baby comes and have filled all time not dedicated to eating and sleeping. Buuuut you didn’t tune in to hear about my aches and pains, so I’ll move on….

I’m about to turn over my job to two people who will replace me when the baby comes. My job is sort of hard to describe. It's part personal assistant, part class programmer, part actor advocate, part marketer, part human copy machine. This jack of all trades position has taught me to be a sponge to everything I get to be a part of and has led to opportunities to write, direct, coach. I feel very lucky. But how do you train a replacement to take over such a vague position when most of it really just involves trying to read the mind of a quirky old Jew. His words. Not mine. A small sample of the words I would use are: hilarious, bellowing, dapper, generous, I could go on and on.

This exact job didn’t exist before me. The awesome Erica did a lot of what I do, but it sort of grew organically out of circumstance and proximity. Suddenly three years later I find myself knowing a lot but having trouble telling someone how to do it. It’s not rocket science. If I can do it, the two very capable ladies that are taking over can do it. It’s just that no day is the same and I don’t know how to help them start.

It sort of reminds me of being a camp counselor where my job was to take care of every aspect of the kiddos…sure, the class I taught was water skiing, but the job also included getting them to drink plenty of water throughout the day, remind them to write letters to their mothers and kill all the scorpions that got into the cabin. Or when I was a Peace Corps Volunteer…I taught a few classes per week, but also had to make friends in the village, drink a lot of beer and dress up to visit the chief. What odd jobs I’ve had.

The few times I’ve found myself behind a desk, I end up wanting to slit my throat out of boredom. The routine is in no way comforting to me. Acting fascinates me because no job is exactly the same. In fact getting to immerse myself in what is unique to each character is what I love about it. Even doing the same scene twice, it is never exactly the same.

Good to know I’m pursuing something that will be a perfect fit if I can make a post-baby career happen. In the meantime, I should at least tell the replacements how the bossman takes his coffee. 

"No training can completely prepare you for the trial by fire you get in the ring."

Sugar Ray Leonard