Benny and his friend Griffin at Ocean Beach in San Francisco.

Saturday, March 27, 2004

Baby Massage

I have a terrible cold. I feel just awful. Ron has a milder version and Ben is pretty stuffy too. Ben and I just sat on the couch and watched TV all morning because I didn't have the energy for anything else. I wash my hands every two seconds because I don't want to make Ben sick. I feel like wearing a surgeon's mask.

Ben seems to be doing well. He’s eating and sleeping fine and has his usual happy times. He smiles and babbles and blows bubbles now. He's a good baby.

Ron ran into some reverse sexism yesterday. God, I'm irritated. He signed himself and Ben up for a baby massage course on Wednesday mornings, where they teach all kind of techniques to calm babies. Anyway, the instructor acted like Ron was some sort of freak in a roomful of women. He comes home saying the instructor wants me to go too, because mothers have special hormones and instincts and God knows what else.

I personally don't see why I need to go. This is supposed to be a nice thing for Ron and Ben, plus it gives me time to do something for once. (The class is once a week for four weeks.) We thought Ron would learn the techniques, then teach me. He had to teach me how to swaddle and bathe the baby, as well as clean the cord stump when I could finally take care of him. Geez.

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