Lucky Us

This week I'm feeling pretty grateful. Things have been going great with the little one, all tests look good, Cati feels mostly pretty good, lotsa kicks and action. We really feel like we have another person with us now. We can feel definite body parts as they rest against Cati's belly, though we're not always sure exactly what they are. Everyone's healthy and ready.

Speaking of ready, we went to our first birth prep class this week...though I should clarify, it was our first class, but not THE first class. Cati totally forgot the first one (though I share a little responsibility for this forgetting, the story is funnier if you just believe it was all Cati's fault), so for the second class we were extra careful. I was originally supposed to be gone on a shoot at Yosemite (canceled because of snow), so I helped with the remembering. Cati came home after work and double-checked the location and start time, and we settled in to a nice, leisurely dinner. When we got to the building, the front door was locked, which was a little weird. We knocked and someone let us in, and we come around the corner to see that this very full class was well underway. It was a fairly long walk to join them, with everyone's eyes on us, which was lots of fun. Apparently class started at 7pm, not 7:30. And we had thought we were 5 minutes early! Made me think that birth prep classes should be specially built in some way for pregnant moms and distracted dads where whenever you show up a class starts for you. How can we be expected to remember actual times and days? When Cati's not working or eating, she's sleeping. And me, well...um, I have no excuse.

We were relieved to find out that, despite missing a class, we will still be allowed to give birth. But we'll have to do some extra credit yoga poses and low moaning to get up to snuff, or no baby!

One cool note was that a classmate is the personal chef for the Gettys (very rich, old aristocratic family in SF) and cooked for the president last night when he was in town. Next class, she's volunteered to bring snacks. Yum! Sadly, we also volunteered (before we knew who she was), so we'll be taking off work all week and doing nothing but cooking so as not to embarrass ourselves.

I realize that's a long tangent away from my original statement about being grateful...We've had some tough news about other folks this last week or two, and I am sharply cognizant of how lucky we are to be burbling happily late to our homebirthing class and generally mooning around with a happy healthy baby always on our minds. It's funny how giving birth is such an incredibly happy experience, and yet it opens you up to so much potential pain (and joy too, of course) beyond what you ever allowed yourself to experience. Not just in the challenges and potential tragedies of pregnancy and birth itself, but once this being comes into your life, everything that hurts them will hurt you too...and no matter how hard you try, in one way or the other, you will cause them hurt, if only by eventually leaving this world.

Anyway, sorry for the melancholy turn, but considering all, we're incredibly happy, and I guess this is my mopey way of saying thank you. To whomever. It's not always gonna be this sweet (it'll often be sweeter), and I am grateful.

Birth and day

Well, today I was awoken to the sweet smell of biscuits darling Cati was baking for my birthday in bed breakfast. Using a tip from her friend Hannah's story about her Granny's biscuits, I tracked down some White Lily flour online and Cati's been a biscuit baking fiend ever since. Much to my benefit...

Anyway, it got me to thinking...this whole birthday thing, we usually think about it as celebrating how old we are, or how old we've just turned, or fearing how old we've become. But with the baby near, I am suddenly and pointedly reminded that this is a celebration of my birth. My actual age matters little, but I DO like remembering that my mother was so good as to bring me into the world, and how great a thing being born ultimately is when you have a great family. Despite various reconfigurations, I've never doubted for a moment that my family loves me lots, and what better world can anyone be born into? I am hopeful that this next birth-day that we will celebrate will be a similar gift for our child. I can't imagine it otherwise, I feel so much love flooding through me already for this little rolling, kicking, elbowing, hiccuping wonder.

Sometimes one can get in a rut thinking about all of the burdens our children inherit, a world in distress, economic armageddons, dwindling resources, etc...I find myself taking a shower and contemplating whether or not our child will even know what it's like to be allowed to take a shower every day. And yet, when I think of my own childhood, none of the things that I'm guessing my parents fretted about too stick out. All I remember is pancakes on Sunday mornings, hikes in the mountains, looking for wild mushrooms, dinners at Grandma's, music-making nights, taking care of goats, etc...There were certainly sad and difficult times, but none that I can remember involved the outside world really. So, that makes me feel better about celebrating birthdays. It's a day to celebrate the bubble of love we all get to enter just once, but every year is a reminder of our luck in staying in that bubble. Ok, time to get back to building this new bubble.

My first good sf biscuits!

Courtesy of Arne ordering some self rising flour online (cause ya can't get it here!)






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Kentucky Derby Blowout

Arne and I (and the in-utero wiggle worm) went to a lovely Kentucky Derby party hosted by friends Patrick and Catherine this weekend. Patrick is a Kentucky native himself, and it turns out that my side of the Johnsons hail from Kentucky, too. Mom was born in Murray, Kentucky and lived there for a year before becoming the lovely Georgia Peach that she is.

Speaking of Georgia Peaches, here's a picture of me ripening in the sun - got a touch of a burn on that right shoulder to boot.

Arne and I had the right idea. We bid on the best horse - Super Saver - but were outbid by some "friends" :), and had to go with our second choice who came in dead last! Arne and Dave (said "friend") in heated battle:

It was a lovely time all around. Arne and I made biscuits and maple bourbon butter to go on top. I'll not recommend trying to make biscuits with bread flour (too chewy), but the maple bourbon butter is definitely the way to go! Since our Georgia visit we've been on a biscuit quest - but more about that later. No use crying over spilled flour (unless you're pregnant and that seems exactly the thing to do).