Adult Beginner

No sleeps is no good

adultbeginner — Sun, 19 May 2013 22:23:17 +0000

Got some new tights.
Capezio Hold&Stretch transition tights in ballet pink, or BPK as they code it.
Got them because my old Capezio tights have finally and truly kicked the bucket: they have developed thin spots through the thigh which is UNACCEPTABLE. No sheerness is allowed in the thigh department in ballet class. No sheerness!
Pink tights reveal enough as it is.
Sheesh.
And no, I’m not gonna cut a hole and wear them as a shirt. What am I, a hobo?
Anyway, the tights were really just a bonus, I was online ordering a mattress cover for the baby’s crib, and needed to spend a certain amount of more dollars to qualify for free shipping, so was like what the hell, lets get me some tights.
Was ordering a mattress cover because The Baby is still not sleeping well, like for example he only woke up three times last night. At 1, 1:30, and 2:15.
That was a really good night.
Night before that was 10, 12, 1, 2:30, and 5am. That was a rough night to cap off a rough week of rough nights.
It’s crazy, as evening slides into Baby Bedtime these days I feel like I’m going into battle, like I psyche myself up and review my strategies and assemble my weapons and sometimes I’m full of stupid optimism like Tonight’s Gonna Be The Night!!! and sometimes I just go full on nihilist like Why Even Bother Going To Sleep At All!!!!
The Baby has slept through the night exactly twice since I moved him into his own room two months ago.
I don’t know what magical combination of factors resulted in those two nights.
But I’m looking for patterns and signs in everything. I’m full of superstition. Like, maybe he slept well because he was wearing these particular pajamas, maybe they are Magic! Or maybe it was because we walked east at sunset instead of west, or maybe because I touched the doorknob three times and then turned in a circle before I left his room. While wearing yellow. Who knows!
Bought a moisturizer solely on the basis of it having the word anti-fatigue on the jar. Bought some tea just because it says Well Rested. Looked at the box and thought, well, Tea, at least one of us outta be.
And I keep thinking I can outsmart the not-sleeping, if I just find the exact right nighttime routine or method or product or whatever, which is why I was online ordering a mattress pad, because it ocurred to me that he’s been sleeping on just a thin sheet over a plastic coated crib mattress this whole time, and that’s gotta be uncomfortable, but the crazy thing is almost all the crib mattress pads available are also waterproof, and, like, why would I want a waterproof pad on top of a waterproof mattress, and then I start thinking about cribs in general and Conspiracy Theorist me comes out and gets all angry with the furniture industry for pushing cribs in the first place, ’cause what would really be smart is if there was just a twin bed in the baby’s room, like with a rail so he won’t roll out, because eventually he’ll need a real bed and in the meantime there have been many nights where I’ve given the crib the exhausted side-eye while considering whether I could just get in there with him instead of sitting back down in that chair I was just in an hour earlier and would likely be in again in another couple hours.
And then in the morning after a wakeful night it feels almost like we’ve had an argument, like we’re quiet and polite with each other.
After the other night, the one with the five wake-ups, my husband pointed out that I can lay around all I want during the day, and I’m super lucky to be able to do that, but I don’t want to! I don’t want to sleep in the day! I got chickens doing port de bras to draw!
I am getting a nightly ballet practice in though, like this:
I’ve just put the baby in his crib, he’s asleep, it 2 or 3 or whatever a.m., and I’m slowly, quietly, toe-heel toe-heel ballet-walking down the hall back to dreamland.
Alright that’s enough crazy ranting for now, I’mma go make a gallon of Well Rested tea.

Port de bras #3 a lá poulet

adultbeginner — Thu, 09 May 2013 22:35:52 +0000

Port de bras number three!!!!
I think of this one as “pick up invisible beach ball and fling it over head”.

Port de bras #2 a lá poulet

adultbeginner — Wed, 08 May 2013 20:26:37 +0000

Port de bras #2 makes me think of semaphore.
I wonder what we are signaling?

Port de bras #1 a lá poulet

adultbeginner — Tue, 07 May 2013 17:02:28 +0000

Sometimes if I draw a picture I remember it better.

He’s not actually a very helpful study partner

adultbeginner — Sat, 04 May 2013 04:47:59 +0000

Brushing up on the five port de bras exercises, with a little help from my big helper.

Number five is my favorite, makes me think of dodging bullets in slomo a la The Matrix.

Centered.

adultbeginner — Wed, 01 May 2013 01:04:02 +0000

Something crazy happened in class the other day:
I caught myself actually looking forward to center.
Whah?!
Only took three frikin years.

Pas de deuces.

adultbeginner — Wed, 01 May 2013 00:57:27 +0000

Talking to a friend the other day,
Her daughter has been requesting this Barbie ballerina book like every night for story time, you know, probably like Barbie’s Pretty Pink Adventures As A Pretty Primadonna! And Friends! or something.
Don’t judge, you know you totally had that book when you were a kid too.
Anyway, so apparently in this book Barbie does a pas de deux, I’m assuming with Ken, but anyway so this means my friend has to say the words “pas de deux” out loud a whole bunch, and she’s feeling kinda awkward about the pronunciation, since she doesn’t do ballet or French, and I was like, “Really? Barbie doesn’t include a helpful pronunciation guide for the parents? She just leaves you to figure out “pas de deux” on your own?”
And she was like, “Yes, Barbie totally leaves us hanging.”
And I was like, “Well don’t worry, everyone sounds like an idiot when they say pas de deux.”
Pah day dhoo.
Paah duh doo.
Pahdeh dü.
Paddy duh.
Or maybe it’s just me that sounds like an idiot.
Happily for everyone, the adult beginner pretty much never has to say pas de deux IRL.

Maybe I’ll just take the stairs.

adultbeginner — Mon, 15 Apr 2013 17:37:06 +0000

Little pnuemonic device a lá Smirnoff:

“My Dears! There is a difference between elevé and relevé! You cannot use the same word for both actions! They are different!
Elevé, you go up right away. Like an elevator. You push the button, you go up.
Relevé, you push the button, and first you must go down to the basement and then you go up! Down in plié, then up!
Understand? Yes! Now lets get to work.”

What a let down

adultbeginner — Sat, 06 Apr 2013 20:12:39 +0000

This here is a photo of my latest not-so-glamorous ballet accessory:

What the heck are these things?
Disposable nursing pads, bitches!
What the heck are they for?
They go inside my sports bra in case I experience a let-down during ballet class.
What the heck is let-down?
It’s that (maybe awkward) moment when you start producing milk. Maybe your baby is around to enjoy it, maybe not. Who knows! It’s all a magical surprise!
It can happen when you see your baby, when you see a photo of your baby, when you think about your baby. It can happen when you hear your baby cry, or when you hear any baby cry, or when you hear something remotely similar to a baby’s cry, like a squeaky door or a seagull.
It can also happen when you hear something Not remotely similar to a baby crying. Like my favorite example from a book on breastfeeding I read while still pregnant: hearing the coffee grinder could stimulate a let down.
Hilarious I thought!
Not so hilarious when it happens during frappés!
Ok actually it is a little hilarious when it happens during frappés.
As long as I’m safely covered.
Which I am!
I mean woo doggies, a sweaty leotard is one thing but, um, yeah, I’d probably die of embarrassment and never go back to class again if, like, well anyway it’s not gonna happen so we don’t even need to go there.
These ones in the photograph are a cheap store brand version of the Lansinoh nursing pads, and ladies, if you’re in the market, don’t buy the cheap ones like I did, get the Lansinoh. These cheap things say they are contoured. They are not! They are flat flat flat! Like wearing a coaster!
No this post is not sponsored by Lansinoh.
I wish.
I also have some washable ones that I made for wearing at home. You can find lots of DIY tutorials online that recommend several layers of flannel. Mine have several layers of flannel and a layer of silk satin because I’m fancy.
Anyway, the other day I went to the chiropractor and got a massage, which was seriously amazing. I think I’ve been hunched over for the past almost six months solid what with all the picking the baby up and carrying him around and gazing down while I feed him and stuff.
Seriously, like before this chiro and massage whenever I’d do that stretch where you bring your hands together behind your back and squeeze your shoulder blades together I’d feel crackcrackcrackcrackcrack, and now, my shoulder blades just slide toward each other like it ain’t no thang.
Really wish I’d had ballet that day, my cambré toward the back would’ve been the stuff of legends!
Anyway, so I was getting this massage, and, you know, lying under a sheet not wearing clothes, as one does when getting a massage, and more importantly not wearing nursing pads, and all of a sudden, for no good reason, here comes that pinching feeling of the let-down.
And I was like, Fuuuuh! Not here! What do I do! Quick, what do men do? Quick! Think about cold showers! Think about baseball! Think about Grandma!

Recycle those Ribbons

adultbeginner — Thu, 04 Apr 2013 23:31:07 +0000

My old black suede sneakers finally kicked the bucket.
Ok really they died a while back but I had actually darned the holes in the suede and wore them all Franken-stitched for a whole ‘nother year because What Is Wrong With Me.
So, finally I sent them to live forever in the big shoe-closet in the sky via the trashcan, and bought a pair of boring canvas sneakers,
And painted a metallic toe cap on each because if you don’t fuck with it it’s not yours,
And in a moment of ballet-frugality, before throwing away the old shoes I pulled out the cream grosgrain ribbon laces and threw them in the wash and then actually ironed them, What Is Wrong With Me, to my mother-in-law’s great amusement.
She’s visiting again.
She says no one can ever make fun of her for ironing jeans again because she’s seen me press shoe laces.
Anyway!
I like how they turned out. Good enough for kicking around this summer, and probably for way too long after that.
Here’s a big high-five to ballet for making me the kind of person who recycles ribbons. Probably wouldn’t have even thought of it before sewing those pointes.