Riot and Frolic

Dancing After Pregnancy

As far as post-partum dancing goes, I've been around the block a few times.  Well, six times.  I've basically run a marathon of post-partum dancing.  And yet every time I hit the road after getting a new kid, I'm astounded by the facts of dance I'm faced with.

Fun Facts About Dancing After Pregnancy

A. Dancing is a workout. 

WHAAAAAA?  I know.  You're surprised. [No, you're not.  I see you sweating 10 minutes into your lesson.]  But as a professional ballroomer, it's often easy to forget that even the basics danced at a beginner level can be a killer workout.  [Maybe you forgot that part, though!]

Por ejemplo, while visiting the studio with newborn Baby #1, The G and I decided to do a little Rumba while our co-workers ogled our new addition.  Very little Rumba, it was.  One box in, I realized OH I HAVE NO ABS EVERYTHING HURTS AND I'M DYING.  

Reality check: your abdominal muscles often separate down the middle in this fun way called Diastasis Recti when you're preggo and you have to fix it so you can live your life and do your Rumba boxes and have a great pelvic floor and not pee your pants when you sneeze.  

[I recommend this program, The Mutu System, and will continue to until I stop hearing about adult diapers.]

B. Everything is different.

I swear just a couple months ago, my développés were SKY HIGH and then a couple more weeks went by and THE BELLY IS THE LIMIT, so the obstruction, and not my waining strength, is to blame and then a couple more weeks went by and during practice THERE IS A GLASS CEILING ON THESE KICKS OF MINE because no matter how active everyone else thinks I am during pregnancy, my strength and flexibility has atrophied a little, but my phantom kick memory of those extensions is still very strong.  WHY WON'T THAT LEG GO HIGHER?  I SWEAR IT USED TO. 

Reality check: Mama, you still got it, but you might not have it... yet.  Like all those annoying doctors say, give yourself some time to recover (more than a week!), mentally and physically from all those hormones, life changes, and schedule "adjustments" before chucking yourself back in to the Expectations and Goals [and maybe leave out the Should Be parts].

C. What are all these jiggly bits? 

Boobs, for some of us previously unendowed, are an added attraction, but an growing impediment to those already in the know.  You still look five months pregnant, but not in the tight, "hey, there's something in there" kind of way, but in the "hey, nothing's in there and my guts are still settling into their proper place" way.  It seems like you should be able to "suck it in" or something, but...

Reality check: blah blah, nine months to put it on, blah blah, nine months to take it off ugh blah TRUE.

D. Where is your center?

I don't know!  Where is my center?  Nine months ago, I had a pretty good understanding of it, then it shifted down and forward, which was kind of neat, but now, it's floating in the ether until I get those ab muscles under control.  My poor partner feels the same way, trying to find some connection to me while dancing.

Reality check: when you start to practice again, you'll have some remedial connection work to do.  Warn your partner that it might be slow-going ahead of time because...

E. Your hormones are making practice an extra-thin ice territory.

Whether you're practicing solo, en duo, or surrounded by your favorite nonet in group class, you will face a variety of strong emotions in a short amount of time due to your ever-loving/hating/frustrating hormones, especially when faced with the little adversity of getting your groove back. 

Reality check: how much your fellow dancers will be exposed to your post-partum "personality" is a little hard to veil, so be prepared with some Kleenex and friendly faces to welcome you back to the studio.

F. Everything is the same. 

Joints are creaky and choreography is rusty and maybe I refer to my toes as "my tootsies" too often, but my love for dance is so so cheesy and deep and still intact.

Note: OMG I'm not a doctor and everyone is different, so if you really need help, get the advice of a medical professional, not a ballroom one.

Life with a Newborn - with a Crappy Graph

Sometimes I forget how life is after I bring a new baby home from the hospital.  You'd thnk I remember by now, what with 5 of these experiences in my pocket, but NO.

Since momnesia is real, I decided to make myself a graph as a visual reminder of what to expect when I'm no longer expecting, and just expected. Like, to do stuff. 

 

 

On a usual day, I would wake up in the morning (1), make a cup of coffee (2), make lunches for the school kids (3), wash some dishes (4), start a load of laundry (5), and make a list of three very necessary things to get done that day (6).  

Nothing too earth shattering.  Just the morning routine.  

Inactivity

But now, somewhere in the middle of getting a sinkful of soapy water, this new baby needs to eat and he's not at that cool baby stage (several months down the road, Kathryn) where he can hold a bottle, so I drop everything and sit on the couch for 20 minutes.  

While this could be a restful respite from the rat race of being a normal human, there's only so much social media one wants to consume, I discovered.  And only so many words in ANY book one can read.  And only so many shows that will capture one's attention on Netflix.  Even the glow of meditating wears off after the hundredth "break" in two weeks.

(For those who need help with my math: let's say babies eat 8 times a day minimum every day, that's 56 times per week, which is at least 18 hours a week, which is longer than the average season of a sitcom, more time than it would take to read the entire Hunger Games series, and about twice as long as even the most die-hard Tweeter is on social media each week.)

Don't get me wrong: I dig spending some time bonding with my child.  I make eye contact and talk to him and all that goobery mom/baby stuff.  

But I also want to eat.  

I want to eat a sandwich with two hands.  Not a possibility, you say, bebe?  One handed sandwich eating is required?  Well, now you are my napkin, baby.

Less Than Inactivity

Did you notice the blue line actually goes BELOW zero?  

How can one get less than nothing done? you might ask yourself.  

When a normal person goes to sleep, they get through all those groovy sleep cycles and their body and brain repairs itself in that miraculous way that sleep does.  

When a newborn parent goes to sleep, your sleep cycle is at the mercy of a tiny totalitarian who might like to sleep in your armpit, or sleep when vertical and being walked AND ONLY WALKED, or who might want to tell you all their baby secrets at 2:11am, or who might want to tell the neighbors all your secrets at 2:11am. These small dictators might wake up once or 12 times at night and it cannot be predicted.  CANNOT!

Those times in your youth when you complained about that [rejuvenating] 5 hour night of sleep you got?  You'd settle for four uninterrupted hours.  And the lucky synapses that would fire faster because of it.

Activity

During those amazing minutes when I feel a bit energetic and the baby is sleeping somewhere peacefully (rascal!), I make a quick but thorough plan of attack:

• run upstairs (OMG QUIETLY) and grab my laundry and that book I was reading and the stamps to mail thank you cards
• run downstairs (STILL QUIETLY, YOU ELEPHANT!) and throw the laundry in
• back to the main floor to wash that tepid sinkful of dishes (QUICKLY, I HEAR STIRRING IN THE BASSINET)
• throw together a smoothie bowl (IT'S TOO LATE, HE'S AWAKE; I'M GONNA RUN THE BLENDER)
• balance your bowl on the iPad on your book with a spoon in your mouth and a water bottle (DRINK ALL THE FLUIDS) and run to grab baby before he loses his shiz.

It is less than the average adult might accomplish, and yet, I WANT AN AWARD.  Or some cake.  

I'd definitely settle for cake.