With The Greatest Of Ease....Or Not
Friday, August 22, 2008
A few weeks ago, my friend, Jill, invited me to join her in fufilling a dream to train for the circus. She found out about some place that offered trapeze classes amidst the trailer parks and poop covered fields of east Gilbert. Oddly enough, "Trapeze U" consisted of a trailer and a trapeze contraption sprawled out over a field (which was fortunately mostly free of feces...from goats- I think there are a lot of students (me) who crap in their adorable Nike athletic skirts from total fear). I truly thought that the instructors would at least show a how-to video or go through some safety demonstrations. Instead, after signing some release of liability forms (did they have to mention ALL the possible injuries they weren't responsible for???), we were told that we were gonna "just dive into it". By practicing hopping a few times, we were ready to climb three stories up a ladder the width of Nicole Ritchie's thigh. Did I mention that we weren't harnessed at all until after we leaped over to a platform? Then, we had to lean forward and try to hold on to a trapeze bar that weighed roughly 20 lbs....one-handed. Now it was time for "hopping" off and trying to catch the trapeze with the other hand. I have never been coordinated. Ever. I was the kid in P.E. who would scream, close my eyes, drop to the ground, and curl up in a fetal position at the approach of any ball be it from basketball or ping pong. So, to say I was trembling was an understatement. Thank god for the helpful nudge the instructor gave me. There was such a thrill swinging through the air; the adrenaline made it hard to listen to the instructions (not that I have ever really had THAT talent). Here is my first go around (Jill's husband who filmed everyhting still hasn't e-mailed me with the rest of my attempts- hint, hint!!!!):
Trapeze Class from Kiri Rubin on Vimeo.
My second run, I wiped out. The trapeze slipped through my hands and I nearly crashed into a pole which would have rendered me mildy retarded or partially paralyzed but Jimmy would have still stayed married to me, right? And changed my diapers? Through reckless activity and health! Next time I won't slather on greasy sunscreen before doing something that requires me to hold on for dear life. After I washed my hands, I did four more trapeze acts....in one, I was caught by a very bored instructor. It was amazing. Even though I have rope burn (it looks like the result of a bondage game gone wrong), bruises, and weird muscle aches, it was the most fun EVER. I would love to do it again. Jill is taking the six week course... lucky girl! As for me, I think I will just dream of sparkly leotards and muscle-y youths waiting to grab me as I fly through the air....
Sasha at Fourteen Months
Friday, August 8, 2008
We have oodles of toys for Sasha. They are overflowing from shelves, storage baskets, the diaper bag, her closet et al. There are ones that beep, honk, and rattle. Educational, learning toys to teach her about colors & letters & random Spanish words. Stuffed animals and dolls. Balls and blocks. You name it and we probably have it. And, the sad truth? I play with these things more than my daughter. She much prefers to futz with our cellphones (we've tried billions of fake ones but she sees right through our evil plans), car keys, the cat brush, the electric toothbrush, Jimmy's worn sandals, the safetylocks on our cabinets, anything in the dishwasher, etc. As a result, we have gotten a lot of annoyed calls from friends and family asking why we dialed their number if we didn't want to talk to them. They didn't enjoy answering the phone and hearing piercing beeps as Sasha continued to press random buttons??? Sasha has set off Jimmy's car alarm numerous times. And, I am terrified to brush my teeth as I usually find the toothbrush on the floor (next to the completely unraveled roll of toilet paper) and still vibrating. When we went to visit my mom's house in San Diego, she ignored all the beautiful and expensive toys grandma had purchased, and focused in on the spice rack (my mom's shrieks over spilt ginger and rice still haunt my dreams), an empty toothpaste box, and her new umbrella stoller. Notice what's gripped in her grimy right hand in the picture below:
Occasionally, Sasha would mix things up and go through Anti Beck's purse...Sasha was a good baby and handed over everything dangerous to Mama like twenty dollar bills and platinum credit cards.
Since Grandma's house wasn't childproofed, we conned Granny-poo into taking us to the park, swimming, or the zoo everyday. Sasha wasn't too sure about the animals at the latter place. They were being uncooperative and boring until we got to the fishies, the gorillas, and the goats! Once Sash saw movement and naughty behavior (goats poop a lot & monkeys are very uninhibited), she began to point and yell "Whoooooaaaa!!! Wow, wow, wow. Whoaaaaaaa!"
Although she could have touched the goats (they were part of the children's petting zoo), Sasha was a true Goldberg and kept her hands far away from scary nature. Ok, now I am lying...there was a horrible incident with goat pellets but I am TRYING to repress that. At least it didn't go in her mouth. Sasha gets plenty of fiber, thank you very much.
Activity-wise, besides getting into trouble, Sasha still loves to swim and swing best. She can do both of them for hours. There is usually a line a mile long of kids and furious parents before I drag Sasha kicking and screaming out of the swing. I should have biceps the size of Superman's from all the pushing.
It has been a great month although Sasha still only has two teeth. She's been kind of cranky with a head cold this past week when I was a single mother- Jimmy abandoned us for a week to cavort (work) in Baltimore! You shoulda seen her face when Daddy came home; those two are in love.
