Memories and other stuff
In reading friends entries, I often come across something that triggers a memory of things gone by. Thankfully, they have been fond ones, so far.
In reading today, I was reminded of standing in line for the midnight movie at a theater in State College, PA. Rocky Horror Picture Show was the in thing in the fall of 1979. I still remember the Pink Panther cartoon they used to precede it. I recall people bringing in bags of props like toilet paper, umbrellas, squirt guns and toast. If you have been to RHPS, I don't need to explain those things. If you haven't been to RHPS, you are probably scratching your head and wondering... the hell? Audience participation is a big part of RHPS, ergo the need for props.
In reading posts by friends that have infants and toddlers or are expecting, I remember those days well. My father-in-law once said that babies are like little catalytic converters. Food in one end and other stuff out the other. I still recall him being flabbergasted when my then three and a half year old spoke in sentences and with rather good grammar for her age. It was only thing I ever put my foot down on, no baby talk. At the time I said it, he thought I was an odd duck, then he listened to the results and was floored.
I remember the waddling days at the end of my own pregnancies. Running to the bathroom became my life's work for weeks. Very annoying. Any of the moms reading probably recall having similar feelings regarding the potty parades and ohhh yes... not being able to see my own feet for months. I remember being in the hospital with a woman that the doctors induced into labor over the Christmas holiday. I have to ask... what were they thinking???!!! It's not like she was in a life or death circumstance and could not have waited the extra day or so. They induced her and yet told another woman that because of the holiday she could not be scheduled for a tubal ligation during the holiday period despite her preplanning to have it done right after delivering. That's some sort of paradox in my opinion.
I often tease Liz that she was in a hurry to get here and hasn't stopped running since she came out. She was the shortest and easiest labor I had.
In reading of the travels and planned travels of friends, I keep telling myself that I really need to put together a travel diary of my own before those memories fade.
I feel tired again, but it's a good tired. I probably should take another dose of vicodin, but other than the pressure like feeling, I'm not in any pain at the moment. I told my husband that the only way to describe what I'm feeling is like a balloon getting heavier as it fills with water. I told him that it feels like whatever fluid drained from the blisters while my leg was elevated is flowing back into it. He's of the mind that such is not possible, something about it not being able to flow back through the joint.. I'm like... ok, so if you're right, then it's rather pointless for me to have my leg propped up to help deflate the blisters. It was one of those... instead of telling him what I was thinking I stared at him like he was nuts. Now, I'm far from being a doctor, but if the fluid can't drain back into the body as he seems to think, then what is the point of me being parked on the couch for like 18 hours of the day? Go figure.
On the good side, I have the bib about half finished.
In reading today, I was reminded of standing in line for the midnight movie at a theater in State College, PA. Rocky Horror Picture Show was the in thing in the fall of 1979. I still remember the Pink Panther cartoon they used to precede it. I recall people bringing in bags of props like toilet paper, umbrellas, squirt guns and toast. If you have been to RHPS, I don't need to explain those things. If you haven't been to RHPS, you are probably scratching your head and wondering... the hell? Audience participation is a big part of RHPS, ergo the need for props.
In reading posts by friends that have infants and toddlers or are expecting, I remember those days well. My father-in-law once said that babies are like little catalytic converters. Food in one end and other stuff out the other. I still recall him being flabbergasted when my then three and a half year old spoke in sentences and with rather good grammar for her age. It was only thing I ever put my foot down on, no baby talk. At the time I said it, he thought I was an odd duck, then he listened to the results and was floored.
I remember the waddling days at the end of my own pregnancies. Running to the bathroom became my life's work for weeks. Very annoying. Any of the moms reading probably recall having similar feelings regarding the potty parades and ohhh yes... not being able to see my own feet for months. I remember being in the hospital with a woman that the doctors induced into labor over the Christmas holiday. I have to ask... what were they thinking???!!! It's not like she was in a life or death circumstance and could not have waited the extra day or so. They induced her and yet told another woman that because of the holiday she could not be scheduled for a tubal ligation during the holiday period despite her preplanning to have it done right after delivering. That's some sort of paradox in my opinion.
I often tease Liz that she was in a hurry to get here and hasn't stopped running since she came out. She was the shortest and easiest labor I had.
In reading of the travels and planned travels of friends, I keep telling myself that I really need to put together a travel diary of my own before those memories fade.
I feel tired again, but it's a good tired. I probably should take another dose of vicodin, but other than the pressure like feeling, I'm not in any pain at the moment. I told my husband that the only way to describe what I'm feeling is like a balloon getting heavier as it fills with water. I told him that it feels like whatever fluid drained from the blisters while my leg was elevated is flowing back into it. He's of the mind that such is not possible, something about it not being able to flow back through the joint.. I'm like... ok, so if you're right, then it's rather pointless for me to have my leg propped up to help deflate the blisters. It was one of those... instead of telling him what I was thinking I stared at him like he was nuts. Now, I'm far from being a doctor, but if the fluid can't drain back into the body as he seems to think, then what is the point of me being parked on the couch for like 18 hours of the day? Go figure.
On the good side, I have the bib about half finished.