Three (3!) Things Thursday – Babies on Acid

1. Sometimes I think that being a baby who’s becoming aware of the world around them must be a little like a crazy acid trip. Last night, Alive stared at his hands for almost five minutes, wiggling his fingers and giggle. If he could talk, I’m pretty sure he would’ve said, “You guys, I have hands and I can move them with my mind!” Since I can’t remember being a baby, and have never done (dropped? ingested? danced with?) acid, I can’t say for sure, but he was entranced.

2. My mom arrives today! She’s here ostensibly for my graduation (next weekend), but in reality, I think it’s more likely she’s here to see her favorite grandbaby. (He’s the only grandbaby.) She is driving from South D with her older brother. From what I understand, the car is packed to the gills with books! for me (and Alvie) as well as a few Alvie treats. There might be outfits.

3. This week – starting on Tuesday, actually – I have started to feel a LOT better. I don’t know if it was the breaking down and giving Alvie Bean formula for one bottle/day, deciding that maybe, even if my house isn’t super clean, it will be clean enough for houseguests, or just hitting that 4 month post-partum mark that did it. I feel good, though. Happy. Cheery, almost. More energetic. Very nearly back to my old self. Except for one small thing. I rode my bike to work again yesterday, and that confirmed what I had suspected. Last week’s ride broke my butt. There must be something wrong with my seat position, because I feel like my tailbone is broken. By the time I got to work yesterday, I was in so much pain it was ridiculous. It hurts to walk. And to sit. Ow. The architect came and fetched me from work last night (and boy, did I feel awesome picking up my bike from the bike valet wearing my work clothes and wedge heels) and we’re going to do some experiments with the seat this weekend. I have a triathlon in six weeks, and probably need to be able to sit down for at least part of the bike ride. However, two weeks ago, this would’ve sent me into some kind of anxiety-ridden tailspin (I’ll never ride again, I’ll have to drop out of the triathlon, so much wasted money, I suck, it’s probably because I’m too fat to ride bikes, etc., etc., blah), now I’m just, “hey – let’s fix it and I’ll ride again next week. easy peasy.”

So – progress! And grandmas! And acid trips! Yay!

heeyyy…I can taste all the colors, and they taste like Clementi

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