Day 28 - Governor Newsom reinstates the mask mandate in California

I finished this book last week…

1/12/22. Wednesday 

10:00-10:45 – I didn’t get much sleep last night and I wake congested, with a post-nasal drip, BUT my hand is muucchh better today. More fatigue, more exhaustion. I go downstairs to say good morning to the dog. She’s awake and standing against the child gate, wagging her tail, so we go outside straight away. I survey my yard and check my plants while the dog goes potty. Return inside and I give her pieces of turkey. Then, I clean the kitchen, make a cup of coffee in my Keurig, and have toast with a combination of butter and almond butter. I go upstairs.

10:45-12:00 – bullet journal

12:00-1:00 – I read Everything I Have

1:00-3:00 – I do a 30-minute Insanity Max – Sweat workout.  I’m not myself and I know I haven’t fully recovered from having Omicron. I have difficulty getting through the workout and I think the best way to describe how I’m feeling is by harkening back to a comment made by Jair Bolsinaro, the president of Brazil, aka the “Tropical Trump”, after he contracted Covid.  

It must be said that I absolutely despise Bolsinaro because he watched hundreds of thousands of Brazilian people die as they were slain by Covid 19, while at the same time calling the virus “a little flu” and speaking out against vaccines. Even Trump supported the vaccine so the media comparing Bolsinaro to Trump is not entirely accurate.  

Eventually, Bolsinaro contracted Covid and quarantined in the presidential mansion with his wife and children, where he was attacked by a peacock one day as he strolled the grounds. Anyway, Bolsinaro gave a press conference after quarantining and complained of what he called, “moldy lung” which he attributed to his lack of exercise after quarantining for 2 weeks in the presidential mansion, but what we now know was obviously a manifestation of Covid-19. 

This is how I feel when I ‘go hard’ during an Insanity workout…like I have “moldy lung.”  There is a deep, internal wheezing inside my lungs…it’s not audible to anyone else, but I can feel it inside my chest during certain Insanity moves. Coughing or drinking water during the workout doesn’t dispel the ‘rattling’ that I’m experiencing. Of note is that I don’t experience this sensation during any other activity…it only manifests during my workouts. Sometimes I have to stop for a few seconds…this is out of character for me.

-I do a 10-minute Insanity Max – Ab workout.

3:30-4:00 – I have a brief conversation with B. 

It dons on me that I forgot to note in my previous blog that I finished My Body is a Big Fat Temple. It appears that Amy Schumer and the author, Alena Dillon, are friends and a quote from Schumer’s review is posted front-and-center on the bookcover. I didn’t google Alena, but she may be a comedic screenwriter, as the book is written with the kind of comic timing indicative of Rom-Coms. Setting aside the first couple chapters of the book when she miscarries, the remaining chapters are hilarious as she details every negative symptom she experiences during pregnancy, labor, and post-partum.  

But by far, the unsung hero in this book is her husband Phil. I usually have nothing positive to say about the men in the memoirs that I read because, without exception, they’re stupid and lazy. Phil is the one exception.  

In her third trimester, Alena’s pelvic bones began separating in preparation for labor, causing terrible pain in her ligaments and tail bone. Alena reads that the weight of the baby is bearing down on her coccyx and shifting her pelvic floor, so Phil tapes her stomach up to relieve the pressure. This works…, until it doesn’t and Alena is forced to strip off the tape, which also strips off her skin. Phil appears with an oil-based cooking spray to help the process along. 

During her pregnancy, Alena experiences an intense swelling in her forearm, so much so that her arm resembles Popeye.  Phil affectionately nicknames this disfigurement “Meatpaw.” When Alena’s milk comes in, she can only feed with her left breast as there is a delay with the milk coming in to her right breast. As Phil helps the baby latch, he refers to Alena’s breast as “Old Lefty.” An expert in fashioning nautical knots, Phil fashions a special rope harness with adjustable knots for Alena so she can hold the breast pump at a more comfortable angel, then ties knots in the baby’s mobile for easier access above the crib. He also knits. When Alena has difficulty expressing milk, Phil steps up to the challenge and milks her breasts like a cow, nonplussed.   Phil is absolutely hands-on and does everything, completely unfazed and without judgment. 

Alena injects comedy everywhere she can throughout the memoir and the book is light-hearted, while still discussing serious problems with our nation’s healthcare, as it relates to pregnancy and the way women’s bodies are completely objectified and turned into a vessel merely carrying a baby, with no regard for the woman/mother herself. This is why the last incident of the book, 4 pages before the book ends, is especially jarring. 

Alena relays that she and Rowan [her 16-month-old] go to the beach, but when they arrive, Rowan wants to leave, even though he had a nice time at the beach yesterday. Like a typical toddler, he won’t stop crying and starts saying “Home. Car. Bye-bye.” In a fit of rage, Alena says to Rowan, “Fine we’re going home. Fuck you.” 

So, let me just say that it took guts to write that particular paragraph knowing the potential backlash it might bring.  HOWEVER, I find this incident incredibly disturbing.  I’m no “Mother-of-the-Year” by any stretch of the imagination, but I have never sworn at my child like that. Of course, I run the risk of sounding like one of those judgmental mothers who look askance at a struggling mom and pretend they have, somehow, always been above the fray. That’s not me…I’ve struggled, too…especially having raised L. as a single Mom since she was 3-years-old. But, “Fuck you”?  To a toddler? 

Until this point, the book was light and airy and funny, even when addressing difficult topics, but here, on page 184 [the book ends on page 190], Alena goes on to discuss her rage issues and how it “takes a degree of intention” not to shake or scream at Rowan. Here’s a quote: “Occasionally, when Rowan’s insolence is especially unrelenting, visions of violence sear across my imagination like a locomotive.” OMG! I have not read much on ‘maternal rage’ and maybe this is Alena’s point…perhaps she’s trying to say that all Moms have felt the rage that she experiences at one point or another, but women won’t talk about it or admit it.  And yet…I have never felt quite like that. 

I’m not sure how this incident relates to a largely humorous account of pregnancy and beyond and I think the memoir might have been better-served if had been removed. Having said that, I highly recommend this book, if for no other reason than to see the completely egalitarian relationship that Alena shares with Phil and the grace he exhibits as he watches his wife transform from a sexual being into a “cow” (I mean that literally with no reference to her weight) covered in various bodily fluids most of the time, while also welcoming the birth of his son, to include cutting the umbilical cord and studying Alena’s placenta intensely to see how it delivered nourishment to the baby.  All this without fainting or becoming the least bit squeamish…it’s pretty remarkable. Highly recommend. 

4:00-4:30 – get dressed, wash my face, and brush my teeth. I don’t have the energy to shower or brush my hair.

4:30-5:00 – I drive to the library to pick up Lady Parts; then

5:00-5:30 – pick up the pictures I took of the exterior Xmas lights from Walgreens so I can put them on file for next year.

5:30-6:30- Onto Home Depot so I can buy some flowers for a few of my pots.

6:30-11:30 – Return home and after helplessly watching my plants deteriorate over the past 2 weeks because I was too sick to do anything about it, I finally have the energy to tackle the yard.  There are four to five inches of leaves covering the ground and patio and it takes FIVE hours to rake the leaves and sweep the patio.  Under the debris, I note that the dog vomited in two places on the patio. I plant the new flowers I purchased and water all of my plants. I take a few breaks in between and have a few of L.’s chips, but I’m not hungry.

-The yard is done!

11:30-12:00 – Kitchen duty.

12:00-1:30 – My hand is aching again so I wrap it in the heating pad and take a short nap.

1:30-2:00 – Return downstairs and I take the dog out and lock up.

2:30-4:00 – Upstairs again and I fall asleep as soon as I sit in my chair.

4:00-4:30 – I wake up, do my nighttime routine, and go to bed.  I set my alarm for 8:00 a.m.