Thursday, October 25, 2007

I should have married beneath me.

We were driving to the mall, and I noticed a half-built dome atop some new construction on the corner. While sitting at the red light, I quipped, "Oh, look, they're putting a dome on that building. They certainly didn't get Brunelleschi's advice." Sam didn't reply. "It isn't very often a person can reference Florentine architecture, you know," I added, feeling smart and unappreciated. Sam glanced over at me and said, "It looks more like a Spanish dome." God, I hate him.

Replace with...

I just got an email from my sister-in-law thanking me for Gianluca's birth announcement. Yes, he's seven weeks old. I've been busy. Anyway, "Gianluca" had been turned into a hyperlink by the email program. Sweet, I thought, I'll click on this and a whole army of Gianlucas will appear, hopefully none of them porntastic. Turns out it was only a spell-checking feature suggesting that I should replace Gianluca with Ganglia, Galician, Gigantic, Gigantically, Granular, Gail, or Gallup. I don't know about you, but I think Gallup William has a nice ring to it.

Thursday, October 18, 2007

Can't you see I'm blurry? Maybe this blues can wait.

That's a lyric from Night of a Thousand Verses by Semisonic, who coincidentally will be coming up on my playlist soon, as I am in the R's in my continuing quest to listen to my music collection alphabetically.

I'm convinced that 80% of post-partum depression is sleep deprivation, 15% is insecurity, and 7% is resentment. That adds up to 100 after three months without a decent night's sleep. I'm a little prone to suffering from "the baby blues," or post-partum suckitude as I like to call it. I'm a perfectionist with no patience for a learning curve. If the baby is crying, it's something I'm doing wrong. If Paolo is sad because I'm not spending enough time with him, I am failing as a parent. And, of course, there are the countless ways I disappoint my husband. Not only does he have to make up for my shortcomings, he has to put up with my being sad about them. Now how depressing is that? Without enough sleep, I can't see how false and negative this thinking is. It is my reality.

I was barely getting enough sleep during my maternity leave. Now that I have to get up for work and can't nap during the day, I'm down to five interrupted hours of sleep a night. I can't think how to fit in more sleep that doesn't come unfairly at the expense of my family. After his day of caring for both boys, making me lunch on my break, cleaning house, running errands, doing laundry, cooking dinner, putting Paolo to bed and washing my breast pump, I just don't feel right asking Sam to do more. Call me crazy.

I never thought having a baby would be easy, but I didn't realize how hard a second baby would be. As Gianluca gets older, he'll sleep longer at night, so I'll sleep more and be a happier, more productive person. So, little one, not too much longer, okay?

Tuesday, October 2, 2007

Ninja Warrior

There is a show on G4 called Ninja Warrior that has captivated my household, most notably the testosterone set. Ninja Warrior reminds me a lot of Iron Chef: a crazy, campy, competitive show has come out of Japan and completely changed the face of television. My television, anyway. One hundred competitors--athletes, garbage collectors, firefighters, comedians--begin the first stage of a bizarre obstacle course in hopes of reaching the final, fourth stage. The courses are physically grueling and insanely hard. Sometimes no one makes it past the third stage. The Warped Wall and Spider Walk can be real killers, and the Pipe Slider has shattered many dreams. In fact, there is only one Ninja Warrior.

We watch it every weeknight, and Paolo lives it every day. He creates Ninja Warrior courses at the playground, but he also puts himself through his ninja paces at the grocery store, library, and restaurants. Anywhere there is a wall, door or ledge, Paolo is bouncing, jumping, hanging and creeping in complete earnestness. Sam is, of course, Paolo-sahn's Mr. Miyagi. I'm left to be the responsible parent, which is a shame because I'm much better at frowning than enforcing. Besides, with more upper-body work, I think Paolo could be a contender. I can hear the cheesy dubbed announcer now, "Our next competitor has been training for this from the tender age of four. Don't let his cherub smile fool you. The face of an angel disguises the soul of a WARRIOR!"