B for Body
Only yesterday you were admiring your fertile godess' allure.
Its hump was the envy of all and the awe of your beloved.
Then, terrible cramps told you that a new chapter of your life was about to start, as the process of expulsion followed its course, you suddenly realized that this beautiful pregnant body of yours, the one that imposed kindness and admiration from others, was really just a loan.
The conclusion of your labour ordeal making it very clear to you that, you had some late fees on your account and that the price to pay was utter grosseness.
Be prepared: the past few months mislead you to think that you had gained some sort of mojo, making everyone around you think you were the most awesome and interesting person in the room, as colleagues and family regularly inquired on every aspect of your existence, from your sleep quality to your intimate fears and hopes.
All this is OVER girlfriend.
The new center of attention is named BABY and he left his mark on your body.9 months of gradual stretching, sleepless nights and breastfeeding will take care of keeping your body unrecognizable to your eyes and those of your entourage.
know your enemies:
Enemy number 1: Janice Min editor of US magazine and her ilk, who are responsible for popularizing the "Celebrities get their bods back three weeks after giving birth! How they did it and you can too!..."Truth is honey, ain't gonna happen. (you are kind of short of a nanny, a private chef, a private yoga teacher, a private ex israeli soldier trainer, and a feng shui consultant).
Enemy number 2 :BABY. That leech will not let you rest, and the little "me" time you will get, will be spent catching up on cooking, cleaning dishes, doing laundry, folding laundry, and eating food out of a can.If you're lucky, you might get 5 minutes in the bathroom, where you are sure to lament the state of your post-pregnancy bod which, unlike Beyonce's, isn't bouncing back to its pre-prego physique. I hate to break it to you but, you can now be certain that this mortal shell of yours will forever resist morphing into Gisele Bundchen's body.
Your weapons: A big shot of realism, tolerance and a Gillian Anderson video.
If you are breasfeeding, your attack will have to be postponed for a little while.
Monday, September 17, 2012
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
the power of speech
There will come a time when, the lump of flesh that once was your baby will open its mouth and utter sounds that make up words. These words will then be stringed together and form somewhat coherent sentences and these sentences will give you an insight into this "prolongation of your being's" inner thoughts.
These thoughts will make you realize that, there is a reason why most western countries grant the right to vote to 18 year olds, and withhold it from their younger teenage peers. The brain takes its time to mature.
What goes on in a two year old's head could be resumed by the term Lewis Caroll's neurosis- cum- Munchausen syndrome.
My dear son, (whom I love more than anything in this world and has become the apple of my eyes over the past 27 months even though sometimes he drives me so nuts that I feel like peeling the wallpaper off my wall,... with my teeth), has discovered the power of speech. I am of course thrilled by this new milestone in his development, and marvel at all the wonderful things he is now able to express.
Just the other day he exclaimed:" ah...piano I think I do a magic trick and ah.. giant egg but I feel a little bit sick ah.. tummy ache but ah.. feel better now."
Of course I promptly replied the only possible answer to his story: "REALLY?!"
Each child is different, and you will be told so countless times over the next few years, mostly in instances where you are at a playgroup and this kid, who is the same age as yours, can do stuff your kid can't, and you'll involuntarily let a "vow you're kid can do that!mine can't even do that" out, to which your kind and slightly embarrassed interlocutor will reply "each child is different".
You will learn this line by heart and will become an expert at using it yourself.
So my child, has developed this exceptional capacity to talk, much in the way of sports commentators, about nothing but with a very high volume of words.
If we go out for a walk he will comment on every step of our journey. "look mama going down the stairs, oh open the door mama, it's daytime, look kitty walking on the sidewalk hi kitty, big neighbour woman says hi mama"etc.
However thrilled you are that your child is acquiring vocabulary at the speed of Neo learning Kung Fu, at some point in the day, you will want to hear SILENCE.
Nap time will come to your rescue, or will it? you will become acutely aware of what goes on on the roads near your home, as ambulances and pimped up toyotas drive past your window disturbing your child's rest and possibly waking him up from what was, essentially, Your Quiet Time, and the chatter will start again.
You might become sick of your own voice retelling that same Dr Seus' story for the umpteenth time.
And when your husband gets home and starts telling you about his day you will wish you'd married someone who truly understands the meaning of this great Shakespeare quote "brevity is the soul of wit".
This is where Ghandi can come to your rescue. "Be the change you want to see in the world". This small sentence is a truly powerful mantra.
The aim here, my dear friends, is to work at perfecting the zen master wordsmith that lies in each of us. The technique is simple but demands devoted practice.
Everyday past 4 pm you will work at Feng Shuing your vocabulary and jettison all these superflous conjunctions, particles and articles in order to attain speech Nirvana.
You will have to work hard on mastering this ancient art that is Telegraphic Speech.
After enough Kill Bill style training, you will produce syntactic gems of deep wisdom such as "give- me- wine"; "child-go-sleep- now";"husband-dishes-trash"and I promise you that you will see peace and quiet reign in your home once again.
These thoughts will make you realize that, there is a reason why most western countries grant the right to vote to 18 year olds, and withhold it from their younger teenage peers. The brain takes its time to mature.
What goes on in a two year old's head could be resumed by the term Lewis Caroll's neurosis- cum- Munchausen syndrome.
My dear son, (whom I love more than anything in this world and has become the apple of my eyes over the past 27 months even though sometimes he drives me so nuts that I feel like peeling the wallpaper off my wall,... with my teeth), has discovered the power of speech. I am of course thrilled by this new milestone in his development, and marvel at all the wonderful things he is now able to express.
Just the other day he exclaimed:" ah...piano I think I do a magic trick and ah.. giant egg but I feel a little bit sick ah.. tummy ache but ah.. feel better now."
Of course I promptly replied the only possible answer to his story: "REALLY?!"
Each child is different, and you will be told so countless times over the next few years, mostly in instances where you are at a playgroup and this kid, who is the same age as yours, can do stuff your kid can't, and you'll involuntarily let a "vow you're kid can do that!mine can't even do that" out, to which your kind and slightly embarrassed interlocutor will reply "each child is different".
You will learn this line by heart and will become an expert at using it yourself.
So my child, has developed this exceptional capacity to talk, much in the way of sports commentators, about nothing but with a very high volume of words.
If we go out for a walk he will comment on every step of our journey. "look mama going down the stairs, oh open the door mama, it's daytime, look kitty walking on the sidewalk hi kitty, big neighbour woman says hi mama"etc.
However thrilled you are that your child is acquiring vocabulary at the speed of Neo learning Kung Fu, at some point in the day, you will want to hear SILENCE.
Nap time will come to your rescue, or will it? you will become acutely aware of what goes on on the roads near your home, as ambulances and pimped up toyotas drive past your window disturbing your child's rest and possibly waking him up from what was, essentially, Your Quiet Time, and the chatter will start again.
You might become sick of your own voice retelling that same Dr Seus' story for the umpteenth time.
And when your husband gets home and starts telling you about his day you will wish you'd married someone who truly understands the meaning of this great Shakespeare quote "brevity is the soul of wit".
This is where Ghandi can come to your rescue. "Be the change you want to see in the world". This small sentence is a truly powerful mantra.
The aim here, my dear friends, is to work at perfecting the zen master wordsmith that lies in each of us. The technique is simple but demands devoted practice.
Everyday past 4 pm you will work at Feng Shuing your vocabulary and jettison all these superflous conjunctions, particles and articles in order to attain speech Nirvana.
You will have to work hard on mastering this ancient art that is Telegraphic Speech.
After enough Kill Bill style training, you will produce syntactic gems of deep wisdom such as "give- me- wine"; "child-go-sleep- now";"husband-dishes-trash"and I promise you that you will see peace and quiet reign in your home once again.
Saturday, September 8, 2012
Midnight Lover
Mothers don't "fall" asleep. They CRASH. Glasses, bras, shoes still on, she didn't even know what hit her. ( she swore to herself she would finish watching season 3 of Mildred Pearse...)
But do not be mistaken, this is no heavy slumber, no idyllic coma. Only a peep will wake her. A moan,a a whimper of her baby will snap her out of her rest. She stays put, still as a statue, praying for a false alarm. Maybe she dreamed it? No. There it is again. Peep. Moan. Whimper.
What was a whimper becomes a cry, and eventually a full fledged wail.
He's UP.
She picks him up, herself still blurry eyed and cloudy, and then it happens. He doesn't need words, his tiny eyes speak louder than words, more explicit than a novel. No one has ever looked at her this way. No one has ever been so happy to see her, the smile which he greets her with is the most loving, tender she was ever given.
The city sleeps, it seems not one soul but them are awake. They are alone, in the quiet darkness, and all there is is love.
The city sleeps, it seems not one soul but them are awake. They are alone, in the quiet darkness, and all there is is love.
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