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.”
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!
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.
Just now typing the word “entrechat”, I was suddenly really looking at the word for the first time and seeing that it ends in “chat” and wondering in a feeble non-French-speaking way if it has anything to do with cats?
Some extremely simple googling led to the definition, “leap, spring” and the synonym, “pirouette, cabriole”.
Um, I don’t think so, free online translator bot.
My class is an open level drop-in class, right?
So nobody ever know exactly who will show up, although there’s a general sense of which of the regulars show up on which of the days.
Anyway, so this one day, Best Girl never shows up. It’s just me and three other girls, and these other girls are newer to ballet and to Smirnoff’s class.
And Smirnoff has me demonstrate things for them.
The passé position.
Entrechat quartre facing the barre.
Sobresauts across the room.
And it occurs to me, Holy Crap, I Am Best Girl.
I mean, just that day and in that group, but dang.
Just messing around with ArtRage.
Ok so, seems like when I was a kid I remember all babies, like my sister for example, all babies wanted to get ahold of two things more than anything else in the world: the car keys and the tv remote control.
My sister had a little toy key ring even, but she knew it was not the real thing and would still grab for the real keys.
But nowadays, all my baby wants to get ahold of is my phone and my iPad. He couldn’t give less of a damn about my car keys; he’s barely even seen the remote. But he knows the phone, and it’s getting more difficult to take a photo where he’s not looking right at camera, which kinda freaks me out.
He was on my lap just now watching me watercolor this thing, with a stylus and a screen and no water involved. On the one hand I want to reduce his exposure to screen time, but on the other hand I’ll be really happy if he associates devices with making things and generating content.
Modern Timez Is Hard You Guys!!!!!
A friend gave this book to me,
and before you are all, “Girl, please. That is a kid’s book and you are supposed to be a grown-up,” please to direct your attention to the subtitle, “An Art Activity Book for artists and dancers of all ages“
Italics mine.
In your Face!
This book is totally age appropriate for thirty-five year olds!
Anyway.
This book is fun. Each spread has a sample drawing, and then a Mysterious Black Page facing it. Like this:
What is under that black layer?! Will it be rainbow or will it be metallic? Who knows?!?! So exciting!!!!!!!
So you take the little wooden stylus that comes with the book and start drawing, and the stylus makes a very satisfying scritch-scritch sound and it’s really fun and pretty similar to drawing with pen in that there is no erasing. This is probably good practice for the Adult Beginner who loves her some eraser.
Here’s one:
Here’s another:
Fun!
The deets are: Scratch and Sketch Ballet by Mara Conlon illustrated by Martha Day Zschock, copyright 2010 Peter Pauper Press Inc.
And yes, the book is propped up on my baby’s butt in all of these pictures.
Mother Of The Year!!!!!!
