Writing and editing
category: baby
tags: , ,

Dear Readers (aka my immediate family),

On Thursday (two sleeps), David and I will be finding out if the baby is a boy or a girl. Or they might not be able to tell us. Here at Miss Stan dot com, we believe in polls. And this is the perfect time for one. I will reveal the information on Friday – so stay tuned! Note: this isn’t a gender reveal – you will have to wait until the baby is out and maybe 10 or 11 years old to guess that. This is strictly nuts and bolts, so to speak.

Here are the details to keep in mind while voting in the SUPER IMPORTANT poll:

1. David has made one boy and one girl already – so looks like both are entirely possible.

2. This pregnancy I have been WAY WAY more sick than my first.

3. People tell me I look rested and glowing. The same people also tell me I look big, so I can’t imagine they are trying to spare my feelings.

4. When we went in for the first ultrasound the Russian technician told me, “It looks like a package.” When she showed me the baby’s bum, it did, indeed, look like a package.

5. My parents have told me that I can have another baby as long as it is a girl.

6. Holden says he has a baby in his belly too. He tells me the baby is really growing and wants to play with toys. His baby’s name is Paprika. Mostly, she is a baby sister, but today it was a baby brother. No word yet on the due date.

7. I have extraordinarily bad intuition about this stuff. I was pretty shocked both times to find out I was pregnant. I was also fairly convinced that Holden was a girl. That said, I am leaning the way of the Russian sonographer.

Choose wisely:

UPDATE:

The ultrasound went like this:

Technician: Oh, it is a girl!

Stanny: A girl!?

Technician: Oh, no. Wait a minute. Don’t cry. I think it might be a boy.

I wasn’t about to cry, fyi. But then, we had a 5 minute discussion about whether the shadow was a penis or the umbilical cord. Her best guess was boy. I think she is right. I am super excited.

On a side note, at the end of the ultrasound, I did ask if anyone had ever cried when she told them the sex. She said once a woman cried and cried. The technician seemed dumbfounded, “What does it matter?” And she is right.

I am really excited/scared shitless for August. Thanks for voting.

And I will let you know when Paprika is due. Holdie told me she is coming soon.

Yesterday, I had an *intuition* during led primary that I need to eat more. I told David when we were out for a walk and he said we should go get a dosa immediately. I ate a large bowl of oatmeal, idly, cookies, chocolate, 3 pieces of fried bread, miso soup, and brown rice with veggies and tofu.

This morning, I’m not actually sure that intuition was 100% correct.

Led primary was hard but fine. I held my headstand and uth pluthi, which made me proud and happy and deserving of a third piece of fried bread.

So, it is Yoga Spot Terror Chart time! Just to recap:

Booberry Severe Yoga Terror: Next to a door that opens suddenly and often and on the marble. Person beside you is always on your mat

Frankenberry High Yoga Terror: Squished between two tall angry students in Led primary.

Count Chocula Elevated Yoga Terror: Next to a busy passageway between the changeroom and the practice space. Person in front of you lands on your mat frequently.

Fruit Brute Guarded Yoga Terror: The person next to you insists on lifting their hands up to the side and almost smacking your face every sun salutation.

Yummy Mummy Low Yoga Terror: You are in the middle of the front row next to two small polite students.

Yesterday was absolutely Yummy Mummy terror. It really helps that I am not pregnant and I can direct my neurosis towards my baby.

I like the energy in the shala this year, but it always makes me miss the community we have in Toronto. I love the people I meet in Mysore – but occasionally there is a bit of attitude here that is kinda funny. I mean, I thought doing this practice would dispel any belief you might have held about yourself being hot shit – but apparently that isn’t totally the case all the time. I know it is shyness and nervousness most of the time and I should be a more forgiving.

Speaking of thinking you are hot shit, I was reminded of something by Liz’s comment in the last post. I had initially written, before editing to “I was paranoid that Sharath was looking at me.”, “Sharath was staring at me.” I realized after I wrote it, that I had no idea if he was looking at me or not considering my face was pushed up against my mat. Also, if he was, in fact, looking at me – most likely he wasn’t like, “Wow, can she do it?” But more like, “And then there was that cricket match…” Not that Sharath is distracted, by any means. But it is so easy to get carried away and put stuff on him that isn’t really there.

Do you feel like a poll?

Don’t feel like a poll? Here is a picture of The Baby in his new Indian bathtub.

I love vegan thanksgiving.

I can’t spend another moment in my kitchen and I have a food hangover which means I have to eat constantly to feel better. Woot! I am thankful for all the crazy indulgences!

Did you know Holden got a job? Yep. He is a bouncer. Look out.

Practice Notes

So, this is supposed to be a yoga blog, right? But all that blah blah blah about yoga gets kinda dry. Really an ashtanga blog can be summed up  with the following complaints: Oi Рthe shoulder! Backbending Р tricky stuff! Tired! Sometimes tears.

Maybe I should start a new blog called “Sometimes Tears” and that shit I would update everyday with a rotation of of the above complaints. And the title works for tears you get in your hamstrings and crying tears. Genius.

New this week: Holden Owl has a bedtime! This was so easy to start doing – I can’t believe it has taken me so long it get on board and he is such a cheery boy with an extra hour or so of sleep. I get more time for writing. And you will get to read more about my practice. Everybody wins. Well, except for you!

Here’s a little moment of interconnectedness. David just looked over and noticed I was writing a blog and he complained, “You never write about yoga anymore. You just write about the baby.” So, I’ll put it to a poll.