Life according to Cherry

I've been talking for some time about letting go of my restaurant gigs. As Friday approaches each week, I notice that I am less than inspired or excited to perform. It's not that I don't love performing and appreciate the practice that I get from performing regularly, it's just that I dislike having to choose music that works for restaurants. I want to simply dance to the music that I'm into right now regardless of where it comes from or its beats per minute. I find myself creating essentially the same sets in iTunes and wasting another CD that is simply a new order of old stuff. Lately I have been trying to use more Turkish music but even that, the fact that I feel obliged to use it, rubs me the wrong way and I don't look forward to my performance knowing that there is homework in there.

This morning Joe and I had a long talk about positive thinking, manifesting one's destiny, letting go to the process, and the like. I needed to talk about it, to think about it, and to re-embrace my faith in myself and the universe. Last weekend I took both Friday and Saturday nights off, partly because I had pulled the muscles in my neck and partly because I simply wanted to. I felt relieved and asked myself what story I really wanted to tell with my dancing. I played with Nev while listening to a new CD and no less than an hour later, a series of images came to me and I felt compelled to recreate that in dance. I think that by just removing restrictions and giving myself some time, that my inner child had an opportunity to play. My ideas were not anything I'd do in a restaurant, but who's to say what is done in restaurants anyway?

So tonight I got to my regular Friday gig and as I walk in, who do I see? Zizi! We were both happy and confused. She dances on Saturdays, did she have the wrong day? Oddly enough, as I put on my make-up tonight, I felt like I might not perform. When I cancelled last week, the manager said he'd call me this week about the schedule. I didn't get a call (or did I?) so I assumed I was still on. Zizi and I discussed briefly and I told her that I wanted to watch her, so I didn't mind. She said she wanted to watch me and we did the, "No, you!", "No no, YOU!" thing for a second. As it turned out, the manager had just quit and the new manager only knew Zizi because she dances at another location and he booked her that night. Even though I kind of need the money, I really preferred to enjoy a show for once. And I'm glad I did! If one ever wants to see what a restaurant show CAN be, she should watch Zizi in action. She came out with veil, barrel turning, swishing, spinning, and stopping for effect. Things were balanced and exciting right off the bat. She did a couple of interesting things with the veil, including turning it into a turban wrap and holding it lengthwise over one shoulder. The music was modern Egyptian and she wore heels! Sparkly silver ballroom ones that seemed easy enough to dance in. I thought they gave her an elegance and though she's not short, lifted her even a bit more so that people in the back of the restaurant could see her hips. She spun without the caution I usually take in small spaces and would get really close to customers in the front. I liked that she didn't care about their so-called personal space. Who's the one dancing in a bra, after all? As usual, her face lit up the place and warmed everyone up. Not an eye wandered. Her music stayed pretty fast and she did some impressive hair tossing that I also shy away from for various reasons. One being that I never want to shed on someone's dinner but again: caution...wind. And that's what was so refreshing for me at least. She took my breath away more than once. Her drum solo came and after starting it off neatly, she selected a salaryman to come up and dance with her. She did a simple step and had him do it with her. The drum solo had two drums happening so she followed the rhythmic one while they danced together. It was cho kawaii. She then sat him down and came back to dance some more alone. She shimmied her butt Randa style to another seemingly innocent bystander and got him up to dance as well. He may have been Turkish because he had some moves! So they danced together and she zaghareeted to show her appreciation. She then got a bunch of people up to dance and had them follow some simple steps. They enjoy it and she sits them back down. And then another group! I was a little surprised at how willing everyone was to dance, but I think Zizi is just so approachable and inviting. Usually for my party time, I just select a bunch of people and have them dance to an entire song with me. I never sit them back down for fear that I'll have no one else who wants to dance. So this part was especially interesting for me. She finishes the drum solo with them and puts them back. She then dances to a finale and people clap and cheer. I didn't want it to end -- that's how it is supposed to feel! She danced her heart out, got sweaty, and everyone appreciated it. I actually think now that there is much more that I can do in restaurants.

We chatted about various things, post show. She told me that her set last week wasn't very good, so she really practiced this week, especially the veil. I doubted she needed much practice but it did make me feel a little better for being such a slacker about my own restaurant sets. She also said she danced better because I was in the audience. I understand that, for sure. Dancing for dancers will always up your game a bit. I loooooved her music, I bounced in my seat the whole time. She pointed out the Turks in the audience and made a face at me like, "Whoops on all of the Arabic singing in my set." I don't think they minded though. We talked a bit about our favorite dancers versus our favorite teachers. A bit about the bellydance scene in Tokyo, too. She'll be in Egypt next month for the Nile Group and then in Paris for Yousry. Talking to her gave me an idea for an event! If it comes to fruition, I'll write about it.

I think I know what I have to do, and I'm comfortable with saying sayonara to Istanburu. The restaurant around the corner is convenient enough to keep but otherwise, I think I'm done with doing the same old thing week after week. Tonight was a great way to finish!

TIBC! Wow, where to begin. I think I’ll just stick to the highlights. First, managing three guest dancers is A LOT. There are bound to be things that you forget or toes that are stepped on. Shoganai, became the key survival phrase. TD arrived early because we had planned a lecture to which we would donate all proceeds to her foundation. I thought this would be brilliant and wonderful and informative. Hanging out with TD is all of those things. I think I’m just a geeky bellydancer. You know, I enjoy lectures. When I’m back in Portland, I go to readings of books that I haven’t even read. After I graduated, degree in hand, I took a Feminist Theory class for the fun of it. Paying for it out of pocket was not so interesting, but it was worth all $600, I’d say. So TD’s lecture did not cost $600, it cost 2000 yen on the day, 1500 if you reserved. The day came and 8 people showed up. I’m counting my assistant and a writer from Bellydance Japan, both of whom did not pay. So what that says about the Tokyo BD scene, I know not. TD suggested that more people would attend if we had shown the video instead. I mean, really? She sold some books, DVDs, and CDs though, so good for her. I brought Nev and he explored the venue and the ladies.

Competition Day 1. The venue says we cannot, absolutely positively NOT enter before 9 a.m. I’m there at 8:45, so are the guys from HMC with all of their product in the lobby. Dancers are waiting out front, out back, some have been there since 7:30, they said. You don’t get bonus points for that, but okay. Someone came with her make-up artist, another came with her entorage – no kidding. The categories for the first day included: newcomer ensemble, Oriental ensemble, and Fusion Solo. The venue tells us at their very impolite meeting back in July that they will not be doing the music for the competition. It’s too many CDs and they, “cannot be held responsible if something goes wrong” which is ridiculously Japanese and maddening. So we agree to collect mp3 files from the finalists beforehand and run everything off an iPod our own damn selves. Doors open at 9 a.m. and registration is bombarded with dancers. Volunteers don’t know where to go or what to do. I am trying to check music and assemble iPod and back up iPod. The guest dancers want to set up vending for their products during the competiton. It’s not in their contract but I agree thinking that we have rented more than enough tables. Vendors have questions and our guest vendor from the U.S. is table hogging. Suddenly it’s 9:45, the judges arrive. We almost start on time. Newcomer ensemble category finished smoothly, U.S. vendor inquires about how many more people I expect. I don’t know, I say, it’s the first year. I have no expectations because there is no precedent. I could positively say that I expected more people after they wake up for the day. The Oriental ensemble category begins and as I’m cleaning up the registration table, I suddenly hear some big fat silence. Whispers. Volunteer rushing toward me, telling me that the iPod isn’t working. I bring the back up. The duet begins again. Two minutes in and the same thing happens. Groans this time. Judges conferring. Me sweating and making apologetic faces at the dancers. I bring my laptop and we play their CD. They finish and are pros about it. They don’t place, however. It’s break time and I collect the scores from the judges. One Japanese judge tells me, “Some of the ensembles are not Oriental, they should enter the Fusion category.” I agree but I'm not the genre police. “You picked them,” I wanted to say since the top tens were chosen by the Japanese judges before the days of the competition. Lunch: our lovely MC escorts the judges to the hotel nearby for lunch. The rest of us have obento and tally scores. I stress about the turn over between competition and show and try to do as much beforehand as possible. U.S. vendor is one chatty Kathy. Judges return and slowly get seated. The Fusion Solo category is full and each dancer has 8 minutes to get their WOW on. The order was chosen as the dancers register in the morning. The same dancer whose music stopped is up first. She looks super hawt in a feather skirt-less belt, bra, and mask. I thought it was the perfect entrance. She did some solid African fusion in my opinion. Going first kind of sucks though. I didn’t watch much else. There were a couple of dancers from Tokyo’s only ATS troupe. One Korean dancer (with entorage) performing the exact same choreography she entered with on video. Next year I have to change that, I think to myself. The category finishes and we tally scores madly in the storage room. Scoring is based on a system developed by Dr. Mo G. Dancers are judged on technique, musicality, creativity, costuming, stage-presence, and choreography. There is space on the scorecards for comments, which most of the judges take advantage of. One judge does not comment and doesn’t give a single score above a six the entire competition. Huh. The Fusion solo category top three were extremely close, one and two were separated by three points. I wonder if it wouldn’t be a better system to throw out the highest and lowest scores like in the Olympics. It doesn’t matter. The winner is also Mira’s pick (a separate award was given that was picked by one guest judge), second is a disappointed Korean dancer and entorage, and third is a nice dancer with a Harajuku girl hairstyle that I think got her extra points in the costuming category.

The turnover for the show is rocky but works out. Just a lot of me running up and down stairs from dressing room to sound booth to stage. I pumped milk for Nev at lunchtime and break time but the girls weighed a ton anyway. The show rocked and I made sure that Bo and TD watched Zizi whom they both loved and complimented afterward. Mira, oh Mira, is absolutely stunning. Video does not do her dance justice. TD and our Tokyo drummers stole the show which continued around the floor of the venue. They later performed an encore in the lobby where TD pulled me into the mix. I went home exhausted and missing my babes. I shared the train ride with the winners of the Oriental ensemble category and Zizi. I showed off photos of Nev and they thanked me for putting on this event. Considering that we’ve received some flack about holding a competition in Tokyo, it’s nice to hear some thanks. We chatted about the best eyelashes for performance and whether or not drinking helps our dancing.

When I got home around 11, Nev was waiting up. He really wanted to play so I obliged until about 1 a.m.

Day 2:
I felt like a veteran when I got off the train at Otemachi station. This competition took place over a holiday in Japan so there was no rush hour madness to contend with. I packed my breast pump in a small rolling suitcase. This time I stopped at the convenience store on the way to the hall and picked up 20 bottles of tea, water, some coffees, rice balls, snacks, and vitamin C candies for some stifling faces I noticed the day before.

Again, I’m there around 8:40. This time the staff says we can go on up. The extra 20 minutes would have been useful the day before. We left everything set up from the previous night so there really wasn’t much to do. The categories for the day were: newcomer solo, in which one of my students would compete, Fusion ensemble (with all 3 entrants), and Oriental solo, in which the winner of the fusion solo category would compete again, she made the top ten for both! I wasn’t shy in telling her the day before that she was one of my favorites for both categories. I felt I could divulge such information since I wasn’t judging. She seemed touched and asked about my baby. In the sample entrance video I made for YouTube, you could hear Nev laughing at me dancing. The point was to show people that you didn’t have to have a fancy costume, studio or babysitter to enter, just a video camera and some skills! The first category of the day was the newcomer category. Everyone was impressed with their skill for having only 3 years or less experience. The second category, Fusion ensemble, had a clear winner. I was disappointed that there weren’t more entrants for that category but the clear winners were pretty good. They did a jazz fusion routine that was original and poppy. The leader of the group always put herself in the middle or front, though, so it seemed more like one dancer and two back ups. She has a lot of charisma so I didn’t mind too much. Lunch comes again and Bo is torn over who to pick for her “choice” award for newcomer. Mira writes a lot of comments. She also drew a nice nude on the back of one of the scorecards. We tally again and I am stoked to learn that my student is Bo’s pick! I had to hound her to enter the competition in the first place so I couldn’t wait to say I told you so. I tried to avoid her during the break so that my face didn’t give away anything. Judges return and during lunch a writer and photographer from BD Japan go along to interview. I overhear the writer tell Bo that their interview wasn’t finished but that she could go to her hotel room to finish later. Red flags, I think as I know this interviewer is a bit long winded herself. Oriental solo category begins and the place is packed! During the break we decide to lift the stage a bit in case anyone does floorwork. It makes it seem like the main event is happening. The first dancer is none other than the second half of that duet whose music stopped the day before. Man, they just could not get a break. She’s lovely and I whisper to J that I’d love it if she won because she’s so gorgeous. I want to use her photo. She’s the kind of pretty that just hurts to look at, you know? The first few performances get some nice applause. Then one of the two Korean dancers competing comes out. She’s curvy with lots of facial expression. She claps at times, she emotes, she’s telling a story. She gets people excited and they go on a clapping spree for the next few dancers. Anytime the rhythm is clappable, this audience knows how and shows off. In my opinion, she really set up the dancer who follows her. She’s a petite dancer from Hiroshima wearing a flirty floral costume and who ends up winning the whole dang thing! Her style is very Egyptian but she wears heels possibly because she’s so short? They’re like ballroom heels though, not Turkish bellydancer platforms. She also performs the same choreography she entered with. In fact, I think most dancers from this category used at least some part of their video submission choreo in their final routine. The category finishes and there is anticipation in the air. I mean, serious heavy vibes that I haven’t experienced since my competitive golf days when the final group is coming up the 18th fairway. A strange comparison, I know, but it’s what I’ve got. We tally, TD picks the emotive Korean dancer. She even gave her some 10s. But it wasn’t enough to get her a place in the top three. This is good news to me though, because that is exactly why I decided to make a judges pick award. So that dancers know that just because they don’t make the top 3 doesn’t mean that they aren’t talented or possibly possess a quality that makes them stand out to someone like TD. During the awards ceremony, I accidentally wrote down that the first place shoe-in winner was 3rd place. So our MC announces them as third and literally no one claps, the dancers slowly walk out and begin to bow. The judges are shaking their heads and whispering to each other as I rush in to make a correction. Our MC announces it and only then does everyone sigh and clap. Oh, the drama. My student that Bo picks does not place in the top 3 of newcomer solo either. She does whoop it up when she accepts her award though. We announce the newcomer winners and the 1st place winner happens to be a student of the Fusion solo winner from the day before. And that Fusion dancer also wins 3rd in the Oriental category. I definitely want her at a Deseos event soon. The 2nd place winner is the sister of one of the Tokyo drummers. During the preliminary video rounds, we received one video that came on VHS. Ummmm. Who has a VHS player anymore? We watched it and this girl was really really good. In fact, she reminded us a lot of Tanishq. We managed to get her video on YouTube and she made the top 10. When she came to registration, I gave her a hard time about her VHS dinosaur. Then when I went up to the dressing rooms during lunch to pump, I saw her practicing with her CD discman. Of course I couldn’t leave that alone. I told her that she looks amazing for someone her age. She must be at least forty years old if she’s using a discman and submitting videos on VHS. She slapped me playfully and then went on to win 2nd place.

The show on the second night is unprecedented in Tokyo Bellydance history I am SURE of it. Yabbai. Seriously, it was too much. We had not intended for the show to be so packed, but people got their money’s worth. Nicole came out with at least ten dancers right off the bat. I was stunned and thoroughly entertained. She had men with tahteeb and ladies doing splits, it was like circus bellydance and I loved it. Mira and the Tokyo drummers did some improv, which was my favorite part of the night. She’s pretty comedic when she wants to be and her technique is just so spot on, it’s hard not to like. The winners from that day also performed. The Oriental solo winner told me that she was disappointed with her performance. She told me that her friends said she was better in the competition. I thought to myself, “You’ve been doing this choreography for god knows how long, how much better can you do it?” I think that during the competition she was being pushed so maybe she performs better under pressure. Or maybe seeing her dance right before or after Bo just isn’t going to flatter anyone, period. It’s hard to say, but I thought it was the wrong thing for her friends to say to her that night and felt like they could just be speaking out of jealousy. They should have been celebrating with her, not criticizing. It’s not like she fell down or tripped or anything. Man, I believe your friends should be honest but if there’s ever a time to just sit back and enjoy, that was it.

I left exhausted but satisfied and naively looking forward to workshops the following day.

Long time no LJ, I know. They say you should never start your entries out with apologies for not writing, you should just write more. Who says that, you ask? Well, it could just be me, but it’s good advice that I should follow.

Actually, I have been writing quite a bit. I’ve just been doing it long hand. You know, with a paper and pen? My handwriting is getting better, at least. I’ve been reading and attempting to follow The Artist’s Way. The first thing you must do is what Julia Cameron calls the “morning pages.” That is simply three pages in the morning of whatever is on your mind. You must move your hand across the page even if you have nothing to say. You could say, “I have nothing to say” over and over again until something changes. The goal is to get it out of your head so that there is less chatter. It is also time for you to address the negative thoughts that enter while you write and deal with them as they are the roadblocks to your creativity. I like how she equates creativity with our inner child. I definitely don’t think I would have become a professional bellydancer if I hadn’t been surrounded by children in my day job. Their relative fearlessness and playfulness is inspiring. I played more with my dancing when I was teaching kids than I ever had before and ever have since. As for the chatter, I don't experience negative criticism as much regarding dance, but I certainly do when I write. Once upon a time, I considered myself a writer. Somewhere in my last year of college I just got tired of how every essay ends up stating some universal truth. It just seemed so trite and formulaic. And damn was I good at it! I wanted to write travel essays like Paul Theroux and I couldn’t seem to find a class to teach me how. In reality though, there is no class. There is only life. And Strunk & White.

So I continue to record it. Life, that is. In addition to the morning pages whose lines are a cacophony of rants, plans, lists, poems, wishes, and regrets, I began writing a letter to Nev today. Lately he scrunches up his face really tight when he gets excited. It’s always followed by a shriek or giggle and I never ever want to forget it. It could be a phase he is over tomorrow. So I decided to write it down. I also wrote that he has four teeth and two more incisors coming in. He has a gap between his two front teeth that I find goofy and cute. He loves watching the water drain from the tub. Sometimes even when there is no water in the shower, he goes and leans over the entrance, rubbing his hands on the pattern on the floor. And then I realized that there are so many things like this that have come and gone in his short 11 months of life. Not only the ways that he has grown but the ways that I have grown as a woman. If I can at least continue the Letters to Nev throughout his childhood, I think it will be a life altering gift for him one day and a beautiful document for me as well. I already kick myself for not taking as many photos since we’ve been back in Japan. I’m getting an iPhone soon so that should solve at least that problem.

A little stressful airport pick-up for living legend T.D. Those in the know know who I'm knowing. I had the wrong terminal. I had a baby at home hungry. This ulcer inducing anxiety I did not need. When I finally got to her, T.D. reminded me of that kind of 1970's woman who's always in the groove and that groove is infectious. And yet, as she explained to me the difference between the umis in Zanzibar and umi-ed in her train seat, and we chatted about costumes that distract and those that enhance, movement, muscle, earth, and raw refinement (or was it refined rawness?) I knew I'd met a kindred soul. Soon after she leaves us, she'll be in Shanghai for month long intensives because, she says, "I know how to make really good dancers" and I wonder if my money troubles are propelling me to a land of cheaper leases, like...mainland China?

Top teeth incoming! It is no longer satisfying enough to merely furniture hop, Nev must now bring items with him. Last night he was double fisted, one CD in each hand, and maneuvering from the sofa to the end table to my lap, etc. He'd sometimes drop a CD and, without letting go of the other one, would wiggle his way down to the floor, wedge the fallen CD between his knee and his hand, flip it back up into his hand, and climb back up to where he'd been leaning. He's experimenting with the sound of things now -- how the CDs sound when you rub them together, crash them together, put your ear right on them. Pretty impressive for not yet 10 months on earth, I'd say. He toys with standing on his own at times and is really proud of himself when he walks around assisted. He always checks to see if someone is watching his good work and then smiles, or laughs. God that kid.

There's a lot of crap happening in my life right now. I'd rather not dwell on the negative so instead I'll talk about a couple of inspiring moments recently (Bom Bom aside cause he's a given). One, Tania Luiz came over the weekend. I'd read the aritcle that Artemis wrote on her for the Gilded Serpent and it just so happened that at the same time, Bellydance Japan featured her in the magazine under "Native Dancer in Japan," an odd heading considering that she's not exactly native since she has only been in Japan for five years, is of Portuguese decent, and performs Turkish Oriental style bellydance. But I get what they were after. I couldn't read the Japanese but I'd seen some video of her on YouTube before. Especially moved by her contemporary Oriental fusion, I contacted her thinking that if nothing else, having her here in Tokyo would be a good chance to network. There are so many dancers and schools here that I don't know anything about. It doesn't seem right given that we are both strangers in this land, despite what Bellydance Japan claims. I also KNOW that there is plenty of talent right here in the good old archipelago of Nippon so why not promote dancers who are working their butts off but who may never get the exposure that American talent does? When I read her website and saw that she not only teaches 22 classes a week, but that she has a year long Turkish Oriental bellydance certification program that she teaches out of the Japan Turkey Society, I knew she had to be the real deal, as Artemis emphatically attested and Ozma wrote of her blog a while back as well. I chose three workshops that I thought would offer good variety and that are not seen so often in Tokyo: intro to Turkish Oriental style, zills, and Romani fusion. We promoted endlessly on Mixi, the Japanese version of Facebook, I wrote lovely descriptions of the workshops, made a flyer using Tania's gorgeous figure, face, and skirt, told my students and friends, what more could I do, I thought? As we got closer to the date, the numbers for workshops and show were not very good. In a panic, I moved her Saturday workshop from a bigger and more expensive space to a smaller, cheaper space. The Sunday workshops were at a new beautiful studio that didn't cost an arm and a leg, so those would stay. Nonetheless, I was looking forward to Deseos hosting an event of our own. The BDSS stuff didn't really count, in my book.

Between her workshop Saturday and the show, we went out to eat, talking about dance and love and life and travel. We exchanged ideas and philosophies on study, on "spiritual bellydance" and really, how we think that all dance is spiritual. But we both agree that closing your eyes halfway while you dance does not translate to "enlightened dancer" but rather one who may need to use the toilet soon. We agree on working hard and that you sometimes have to break down to build up. Students loved her workshops as they were challenging, informative, and playful. She teaches and dances from her heart. As Artemis said, she's a dancer's dancer.

The show featured ourselves (Joe and I), Ozma fresh of the plane from Turkey, a Kathak dancer who is also now dabbling in Rajasthani dance, and Tania. I, for one, am tired of going to bellydance shows full of not only the same kind of dance, but the same kind of bellydance! I mean, honestly, most of these shows are fashion shows or 50% student dancers. I'd really rather there were fewer performances of substance than fifteen performances of students. Not that I don't enjoy watching students. I just don't enjoy watching them in professional settings. Especially these days when my free time is really precious. After the low turnout of the show, I know WHY that is now. Because students performing means that their friends come to the show to see them. If there are twenty students performing and they each have two friends in the audience, that pays for the cost of the show. Sigh. But I digress, I want Deseos to be known for unique shows performed by professional dancers. Period.

Okay, I have to go to bed. But before I do, a second re-inspiration came upon the arrival of BDs paintings. He had some in storage that he had not intended to sell. I don't think I mentioned before that he is a brilliant painter. BRILLIANT. Money is a bit tight (see the aforementioned "crap" above) so he has decided to let them go, perhaps. They need to be photographed so they are hanging on any free wall space available now. Third, BD suggested I read bits of "The Artist's Way" by Julia Cameron. It's a book I'd heard of but never read. I actually had her "The Writer's Life" once upon a time and the theme is similar. It is not so much inspiring as reaffirming. I'm walking just a bit taller these days.

Oh Livejournal, how do I neglect thee...

Last time I wrote, Nev was standing up. He now knows how to get down, which is helpful. It must suck to feel stuck standing. He's nine months old now, I can't even believe it. He kind of says "mmmmmammmma" when he really wants me. Recent happenings include a couple of non-restaurant performances. Eshe's pre-wedding event was fun despite the fact that we didn't have the usual big office space behind the venue to change. This meant that baby, BD, and I left before the last set. I was looking forward to a place where Nev could crawl around and where I could nurse him comfortably. He's getting used to being around lots of people though. Today we flyer-dropped around Shibuya with Tita Joe. He's pretty calm so long as he's in his pack on his mommy. Harissa performed for the first time since I've been back. We rehearsed once for a couple of hours, kind of mapped out a song, and practiced improv. Joe and I threw a choreo together in about an hour based on Harissa's fast improv moves and I think that was my best dance of the night! It felt good to dance with them again, there's nothing like your dance sisters. And two of mine are mommies with lots of advice and encouraging words. I did a company show at a fancy hotel last weekend with five other dancers. It was my first time doing this kind of thing. We danced on stage and down on the floor. They also had a casino night thing going on at the back. I tried shimmying my way to the craps table but couldn't really blend in. They paid well and fed us nice obento. Dancing in all that space was a rare treat. I found myself spinning and spinning and spinning. I had a solo on the stage which also felt good. I used to be terrified of dancing on stage and now I pray to the sequined goddess of all that is shimmyfied for stage time with proper lighting. Sigh.

Our final destination for flyers today was Harem restaurant. By that time, Joe had to go home and my best DJ buddy joined me and le bebe for a long walk from Shibuya to Gaienmae. The owner of Harem hadn't met Nev yet so there was much squishing and cooing. We thought we were staying for a drink but food began arriving at our table so we ended up staying and chatting with everyone. It was a rare night out for me! Nev was a champ. Lately he's been taking a nap from about 7 p.m. to 8 p.m. which is not ideal if you want to have a life apart from baby. But it is ideal if you want to take your baby with you, I guess. I'm going to try to fix that schedule in the next few days. BD and I need some quality time, too.

Man, I'm hungry.

Ummm, I have three private students requesting choreographies from me. Have they not heard me when I said that I have never completely a choreography that I've made for myself? I mean, I've completed the making of it, I've just never executed it. I've also begun a choreography in my intermediate class today to a song that is...five...minutes...long. We're about 1:30 into it. Ehm...why do I do that to myself? Then private student with two choreo requests. Then met up with Oz cause we're finally making good on our vow to do "something" together. And although I believed that it would be a looser choreo because we're both strong soloists, loosey goosey it is not.

Here's to working out the choreography muscle!

Another thing I know that I didn't know I knew. Life stops when your child gets sick. I don't know if that will always be the case, but I suspect that's how it goes until they are at least teenagers. Now that I'm a mother, I recall all of the things my mother did for me growing up that I didn't realize were sacrifices, in a way. If ever I was sick, she'd be sure to come home from work early or even take the day off to take care of me. I know that's sort of standard mommy-ness but you don't really appreciate it until you find yourself doing it for your own child.

On Saturday Bom-bom woke up a 10kg ball of heat. BD noticed it first and when I took his temperature, sure enough he was running at about 101 degrees. He'd been pulling on his left ear for some time and BD mentioned that we should get it checked out but I didn't think it was such a big deal (you will notice this trend) and he wanted to get some ear drops from the doctor. I had to go to work so BD took him to the doc. BD's Japanese is practically native so it's better that he do things where understanding Japanese is crucial anyway. When I got home from class, the verdict was in, the start of an ear infection. So I began thinking back on all the things I'd done that contributed to his present state of agony, like putting him to bed right after having a bath, letting him float on his back in the tub and thus submerging his ears in warm water, ignoring the itch. Growing up, I had ear infections a lot. So much so that I had tubes put in my ears to help them drain. Twice. This meant that I couldn't get my ears wet and as a kid in Hawaii, that translated to beach time on the beach, not in the surf. I didn't even learn to swim until I was seven, in a state where swimming lessons are only for the townies. In my late teens and early twenties I began going to a naturopath in efforts to rely less on pharmaceuticals to deal with my allergies. Along the way I read that dairy products for people who are sensitive to milk could aggravate allergy symptoms and in children contribute to ear infections. Flash back to the dinner table with my grandparents when drinking that tall glass of milk was mandatory. I'd drink it as soon as it was poured, all at once, because I couldn't stand the taste of it as it moved toward room temperature. As an experiment, I gave up all dairy products to see if my allergies at least got a little better. After a couple of months, they did! I also lost about 5 pounds. I asked my mom when my ear infections started and she said when I was a toddler. When I began drinking milk? Yes, she said. My baby formula was soy based. So when I had a baby, I swore he would drink only breast milk for at least the first year of his life and he would probably never drink the milk that is intended for calves. And yet, at eight months, there I was mixing up some antibiotics for my feverish baby's ear infection. I could easily sympathize with his pain, but kicked myself for assuming that just because he's only drinking breast milk (the best stuff there is!) that he'd be immune to everything.

For the next couple of days, Bom-bom slept most of the time. Waking up to complain or to eat. The antibiotics gave him diarrhea so we were constantly on the change. Just as he seemed to be getting better, though, I started feeling sick! Runny nose, sneezing, and a fever. Crap. Bom-bom followed suit. No fever this time, though. Taking care of a sick baby while being sick is NO FUN. Even if I wanted the drugs, I can't take them while breast freeding. BD is a champ and I got better in 24 hours, but the poor babe is still sneezing and fussy. And there went the week!

I feel well enough today to dance tonight and tomorrow. I have so much to do for upcoming performances that I just want to puke at the thought of it. I have some ideas for things but nothing becomes reality without actually dancing and working it out. Every morning when Nev and I go for a walk, I put some songs on my iPod that I want to dance to "someday" and hope they stick. Now I just need some quality alone time in front of a mirror.

Nev started pulling himself up on the back of the sofa a little more than a week ago. As of three days ago he is addicted to pulling himself up on anything. The hamper, the printer, the bookcase, whatever could potentially fall over. I'm still his favorite prop though. See?





Sorry I leaned out of that photo taken just now as I'm typing this. I've got serious Mom-Hair happening that does not need to be documented, especially not on the world wide web. He'll pull himself up on something and then look around to see if someone is watching. Like, "Check this out, I can do what you guys do!" And we praise him to no end, of course.

Tomorrow I dance at Harem again! I can't wait to be pampered. I can't wait to dance without having to scope out the audience for potential party-time dancers. I'll wear the new coin that Ozma made. It debuted last week at Istanbul and it was a hit. I love the weight of it, it actually makes chest articulations easier to do over rhythmic layers, which was an unexpected surprise.

In other news, we're bringing a Turkish style dancer up from Osaka for workshops and a show at the end of August. It's our first time hosting something from within Japan but I think it's a great idea! She's a lovely dancer with chops and I think Tokyo seriously lacks Turkish instructors. I also just want to take the workshops myself. That's the beauty of hosting these things...I get to pick the workshop topics.

Update:

June 19: Cafe Cairo vol. 6 rocks my emotions. Loved Kazumi's musicality and expression. Loved Take's psychedelic Eman "Oyoun." Some big names in Tokyo bellydance in the crowd gives me the jitters for the first time in a long time. Lovely feedback from Masumi Nenuphar, her eyes welled up as she spoke to me after the show. I'll never forget it.

June 20: Nev's two bottom teeth emerge. Only visible when he's laughing his head off or crying his face off.

June 24: Nev receives a gift from Tita Joe, a Snoopy Chair-on-wheels! 7 months old and already driving. He now wheels himself over to the guitars in their stands to pluck and strum.

June 27: My beginner's workshop introduces a man dancer to me. My first man dancer teaching experience. I got an e-mail the night before asking if it was okay for him to come. Zizi's control and grace inspired him to seek out bellydance on YouTube. He found Tito. Can I teach him to dance like Tito? Ummmm, maybe! Come to class and we'll see!

June 27: New restaurant in Ginza. Tiny but nice. I change in the hallway behind the kitchen. The chefs ask me to be quick because it's roasting and they want to keep the door open. I shimmy into my newish matcha green Eman and knock on the metal door. They practice their English with me and tell me that they have heard of me but never seen me dance. Post performance thumbs up from the Turkish chefs. Perhaps it's time to get more expensive.

June 28: We're late for the small gathering at Anna's. After class I come home, lie down with Bom Bom for a feeding and we both crash out for a couple of hours. It's raining but we venture out anyway for a little socializing. Ozma and I exchange coin costumes. My old Tahiya for a new shiny and seriously heavy set. I love it, I can't wait to wear it. Evening meeting with Take and a gang of bellydancers about a corporate party we're doing in August. Should. be. interesting.

July 2: My partners (business partners) and I head to the competition venue for a meeting. It's very typically Japanese for the place to call a meeting over the fact that we want to extend our contracted time for 30 minutes earlier. Our question is simple: Can we and if so, how much will it cost? This cannot be done over the phone. Instead I must pump two bottles of milk which takes a total of four hours (not consistently, but you have to wait for the milk to come in). We are three women. They are six men. They talk to us like children and second guess every decision we've made. All the while, I watch the clock worried about my child's food supply. The final straw comes when we are leaving and one of the men insists that we go back into the theater to look at the stage. The option we've selected is too small for bellydance, he says. Ummm, are you a bellydancer, sir? "This stage is fine," I keep saying over and over. "Good luck," he says. Who does he think he's talking to, I wonder. Have we not paid for this space? Do what I f-ing tell you to do! Two hours is not enough time to set up for the show in the evening, everything must be set in the morning, he continues. I worked in catering for four years in college. I know how long it takes to move chairs, set up some tables, (not that they're moving at all) and to plug shit in. If it takes your professional sound and lighting technicians TWO HOURS to plug shit in, then they are overpaid and under qualified. My boyfriend could do it in fifteen minutes. Plus, he's better looking and speaks English. We're irritated and filing a complaint. So there.

On the plus side: I got to see the place for the first time and realized that there is waaaaay more vending space available than I originally thought. The hall itself is gorgeous. People are out of their minds if they don't come to this show. We found a potential hotel just down the street for our guests. And a cute cafe too.

I've been scrolling through friends posts and have decided that I shall try to post something at least twice a week. I notice how my dear friend Peanut, despite her busy schedule, posts at least a little blurb every few days and it's nice. Also, there are things happening with Nev all the time that I'd like to document. Like yesterday, he found his tongue. He would chew on it and poke it out, it was so funny! I also saw Anna and Dom for the first time since I've been back yesterday. Coffee on the river turned into beers at our place and SYTYCD on YouTube.

I have three classes today. I started an intermediate level class at a rental studio in Yoyogi last week. I'm also teaching two semi-privates after that class today. It's nice to know that my students from before have been waiting for me to come back. I find that my maximum away time (note: MY, not Nev's) from le bebe is about 5 hours. That's usually at night though and he won't go to sleep without me. So when I come home he's fussy and tired and I feel kind of bad. I have to make sure there's enough milk pumped in the fridge and then I don't worry about it too much. Right now we still have a mini-fridge so having a stocked up freezer full of milk isn't really an option yet.

Settling in is taking time. There's only so much you can do when the babe is awake. And we're trying to find room for my stuff in an apartment that was previously made for one. Nev is almost crawling now! So when he's awake, I'm on constant baby-proof patrol. When we got here he was barely rolling over and now he's doing the army crawl from one dangerous object to the next. We Skype with my mom almost everyday. When she says hi to Nev he lunges at the computer screen. No kidding. I wish we could just go over there on the weekend or something. It's hard but that's life.

So, I'm back in Tokyo! Yay for reunions with baby daddy :)

Baby on the plane was a champ! The flight from Portland to Tokyo is non-stop and 10.5 hours. Tack on two hours before for some fuel pump trouble and lavatory problems. And then another hour for quarantine inspection after landing. No swine flu on my plane. There were lots of missed connecting flights, though. I held him in my lap most of the time and he even watched some Madagascar on the tiny plane screen. I came prepared with five or six toys, two new ones he's never seen before, and we didn't even need them. He was just as amused with the plastic coffee/tea cup on my veggie meal tray. He laughed and flirted with passengers and flight crew, nursed on take off and landing to help with the air pressure changes (and like nine times in between), and slept in the seat beside me at bedtime. What more can you ask for?

Nev sat in what I call the Kanga pouch as we went through immigration. I pushed my overweight bags, carry-on, and diaper purse through customs. Daddy picked us up with two friends, we smooched, and made our way home. Nev sleeping on his dad was the cutest thing I've ever seen. If I weren't downright exhausted I could have gazed at them the entire way home.

Arriving in Tokyo went well but leaving Portland is hands down the hardest thing I've ever done, emotionally. I had NO IDEA how difficult it would be to leave my family with this baby. My mom had been trying to keep it together for days before we left, my step dad who is not even biologically connected to this kid was a quote "bowl of jelly," and my brother who has never shed a tear for me, his sole sibling, actually welled up watching us go through the security check. I can't say that I'm not conflicted.

I've only been here a few days and discussions have been had about returning to Portland. Baby Daddy is ready for a change of scenery and our connections in Tokyo will bring us back regularly enough. The Tokyo traffic outside the apartment is good white noise for when the babers needs it, but I doubt it can compare to some real Oregon greenery.

I'll keep you posted, of course. I'll be back in the saddle this Friday at Istanbul.

Best album for the restaurant dancer. Classics at 3 - 5 minute lengths. Some unexpected gems and old favorites. I could have done without Sahra Saiidi AGAIN, but otherwise nice solid album. And I like Sadie's hips on the cover. I can spot those things a mile away.

Wow, there's a lot going on that I could post about. The most significant of this particular morning, however, is that my five month old baby fell asleep in the very baby wearing contraption that used to elicit screams and tears as if nails were being pulled. I'd say teeth pulling actually, but he doesn't have any. So my lesson to those with babies on the brain and in the groin, buy lots of types of baby carriers. Register for them at your baby shower (I hadn't thought of that. Then again, I had no idea what to register for). If your baby doesn't like it, keep it for a while cause he may grow into it, in a sense. Slings, wraps, long pieces of jersey knit fabric, backpacks, frontpacks, babies like them all. They just like being on you, somehow.

The best thing about this carrier is that I can wear him on my back, which makes for easy typing and probably easier napping for him since he can't be distracted by what I'm doing in front of him. I also like that it straps around the hips rather than the middle or upper back, it's much more comfortable and doesn't squish my back flab down to muffin top over my jeans. I have a strong back so no matter where the weight is placed, I'm fine. Then again, my baby is still small. The popular baby bjorn brand, just doesn't look right to me. The weight is put right in the middle of the back. It has a weight limit of 25 lbs., too. My mom bought a knock-off one with a weight limit of 20 lbs. and Nev likes it a lot. He can face out from my chest and he chews on the front soft flap. The baby bjorn has this weird lumbar support pad that looks like a codpiece when you wear it in front, too. I just can't rock that. I mostly prefer the look of this hip-hugging kind. As I sway here and type, I do think it's better on your body. This carrier has a weight limit of 45 lbs. I carried my friend's two year old around in it the other day and she loved it. She got to watch Noggin TV and ride the Auntie Heather bouncing butt mobile.

Here we are. Blogging/napping.

Some quick updates.
-Bom-bom discovered his feet last week. He grabs for stuff with his left hand. But with his feet, it's always right hand to right foot.
-We play peek-a-boo now and it cracks him up. He's very verbal and animated for a near five month old.
-The goddess of seamery is adding length to my "custom ordered" Eman. I ordered it at 36" long and it came, seven months later, at 33" at best. I tried selling it and ended up keeping it. I pick it up tomorrow!
-I have two nights at the funky Moroccan next month. The Eman will debut.
-I attended my first Samba class last week. The instructor says I'm a natural. She wants me to dance in her troupe. Only if I get to wear a feather bikini, I say.
P.S. Samba is much easier than bellydance. Much much much. It's just quicker and always a big phat party, which is why I like it.

Today I went to Razia's workshop. She taught some of what she's learned from Hossam and Serena Ramzy across the pond in London. She's delightful and took us through some exercises in listening to music and ways to interpret it. Their method is much more precise and strict than I'm used to, but it makes total sense. I don't really believe that there is a "way" to music interpretation. But I'm always down to learn how people approach it. Especially such a power couple like the Ramzys. We focused on Arabic melody. Among the new technique I learned, I also learned that it's extremely difficult to implement new technique on music you already know inside and out.

Driving home from the herb shop last week, I passed by a restaurant with some Arabic script on the sign. The sign said, "Middle Eastern Lounge," and the building looked like it could have been a former furniture store. I guess that's what you get out in the burbs when you're looking for culture. Just down the street from there is a Chinese place in a funky old 1970's motel building. You know the kind with the covered drive-thru check in? Anyway, I've been getting the itch to perform lately. I know that when I get back to Tokyo that expectations will be high. I really feel like I've got to deliver. It's one thing to move to a new city and start dancing there, no one knows you. But I have students and dance colleagues. My stamina is not what it used to be and no amount of practice can mimic the energy required to dance, think without thinking, entertain, and keep your cool. I could run ten miles on a treadmill and, while it wouldn't hurt, I don't have to emit any emotion on a treadmill. Who am I kidding...I've never run ten miles, anywhere.

I was tempted to stop in and leave my card. But, not feeling so cute at the moment, I decided to go home and e-mail a dancer here to see if she has any goss on the place. As it turned out, that lounge was being boycotted by dancers when it first opened. Apparently there was a known sex offender on staff that one dancer was creeped out by. I had also found the restaurant's website and despite it's large red "LOUNGE" sign above the door, it had a warm vibe inside. Less lounge and more living room, I'd say. Maybe they inherited some left over furniture from its former business. We chatted about rates here (ridiculously low) and she told me that Marakesh, a Moroccan place known for having bellydancers four nights a week, had their audition/student night the following day. If I was interested, she'd call the organizer and I could go dance for eight minutes. I agreed to. It would be good practice at least.

So last night, I rushed downtown feeling a little silly wearing false eyelashes and driving in traffic. When I got parked and inside the restaurant, I felt right at home. Restaurant dancing is restaurant dancing no matter where you are. Okay, there's substantially more space to travel, stretch out, and spin (and fall, for that matter). I was shown to the basement where the dancers were getting ready. They were all very friendly and I was told I'd go on third which was a relief. I was worried that it would be getting late and Bom-bom would be getting hungry and/or tired. Not to mention that my boobs swell up another half size with no nursing for two or more hours. My costume wouldn't be able to contain them and we'd have a completely different kind of show. I watched the dancers get ready with some curiosity and nostalgia. I tried not to come off as seasoned as I noticed two or three dancers "cramming" music from their iPods. If you don't know your music by the night you're dancing, you're better off having a glass of wine, taking some deep breaths, and trying to get into a good head space so that you can enjoy yourself. I'm pretty sure that I step-touched and drop-kicked my way through the first song, hitting a few accents along the way, but I was concerned with making some eye contact, generating some smiles, and just spreading warm vibes around the rooms before getting too complicated.

That brings me to showtime. If you've ever tried to create an 8 minute set, you've probably run into the same problem I had. Sets are at least 10 minutes. Songs are typically between 4 and 5 minutes. Drum solos can be around 2. Exit music, 2. Two 4 minute songs and a drum solo already gets you to ten minutes. I found two short pieces that I wouldn't normally put back to back, and a drum solo. I nixed the finale, just planning to finish the drum solo near the exit. Okay so let's cut to the chase. I'm rusty. My moves were things right out of Bellydance for Beginners, just more polished and comfortable. Things weren't coming naturally and I didn't know what to do with my arms. I felt way behind the music. I could feel myself starting an arm pattern and quitting halfway through. My veil piece began nicely and ended in a twisted mess that I tried to mask by tossing it around one-handed. The drum solo was fine, it's one I've done a hundred times, except that I had to try to make my way across the room so that I could exit immediately. On the plus side, I saw a couple of familiar faces and got some applause and looks of surprise from the audience. Restaurant dancing in the U.S. is definitely different. People ignored me completely in the beginning. I didn't know where to look because every table was engrossed in their own conversations and food. It's like they were making a point NOT to see me. That's all fine, but Japanese people at least acknowledge you and pay attention for the first couple of minutes. It's backward here, you have to earn the attention of the audience. I can respect that, I guess. They must watch out of the corners of their eyes or something. My legs are not as strong as they used to be. I stayed away from level changes, which just breaks my heart when people are sitting on the floor. That said, the owner took my card and made sure he had my U.S. phone number. We chatted a bit when he asked if I'd just moved here. I'm not holding my breath.

When I got home, Bom-bom was ready for a bath and to hit the sack. We splashed around the tub for a bit. When he's really tired he cries bloody murder while getting dressed for bed. Lights out and he was asleep in ten minutes. It was really sweet to come home to him. My dancing wasn't great, but performing felt good. I feel like myself when I perform, is the thing. Not that being a mom isn't part of who I am now, but knowing that I can be both is really satisfying. I can envision what it will be like to be back in Tokyo, this time with baby and baby daddy. If that's not having it all, I don't know what is. Now to practice.

I find myself laughing more and more lately. Nev has discovered that we have dogs and that they are a different kind of funny than Mommy. They are hilarious, Mommy is silly. He seldom squeals at anything I do. The dogs do little more than wag a tail at him and he's delighted. When he laughs, I laugh at him laughing but I also get to rediscover the funny in life. Puppets are funny too, by the way. I guess I just forgot.

Yesterday my best friend, her three kids, Nev and I went to a Mommy/Baby Cafe called "Me, Too!" Of the four offspring between us, her two toddlers played in a supervised area while we ate cobbler, drank coffee, and bounced our babies on our hips. I never in a million years would have expected that I'd enjoy a place so much. It seems that we've been talking through her kids since I came home. You know, we don't say much directly to each other, but in code like, "Why don't you ask Mommy if she's ready to go for a walk," rather than just asking her myself. And she'd reply, "Go see if Auntie Heather wants to help you put the blocks away," because she knows I can't refuse her three year old. We've been best friends since the sixth grade and our lives have followed different paths since high school. She stayed here, married her first love, had some kids, etc. I left here and vowed never to marry or have kids. Despite that, we've remained closer than sisters and since I've been here, she has been going through a difficult divorce. We watch what we say around the two girls that understand us (ages 2 and 3) so we don't talk much about the seriousness in her life right now. Yesterday while the girls spread their wings in the kid-safe play area, we had a lot of time to talk. She has had one boyfriend her entire life so it's impossible for her to imagine loving or being loved by anyone else. My mother always told me that you have to kiss a lot of frogs to find a prince. A phrase she preached but hadn't practice as she married her first boyfriend, too. She wanted me to learn from her mistake, I suppose. In reality, her mistake is not that she didn't kiss enough frogs but that she married a toad. Following that advice came relatively easy for me anyway (in hindsight, of course) and now all that I can do is reassure my best friend that love will find her again. And that it will be better than she ever knew possible. She has no experience to support the things I say, but I feel that I have enough for the both of us. Love is a squirrely thing. It breaks my heart to watch her in pain, putting on a happy face for her adorable kids, asking herself the unanswerable questions beginning with, "Why..." but I think that fate brought us back together for this crucial time in our lives. Even though we now both have kids, it feels like we're still twelve years old when we're together. As kids, she was far more outgoing, popular, pretty, and confident than I. I'm glad I've been here to remind her of that.

There's a puppet show at Me, Too next week. I'm so there.

Wow, what a difference a month makes. Nev's sleeping habits are more predictable these days. He loves taking a bath and gets excited anytime grandma undresses him because he knows mommy's waiting for him in the tub. After splashing around for a bit and lounging he's ready to eat and go right to sleep. The whole ritual begins around 8:30 and he's asleep by 9:30. If I don't fall asleep while nursing him, this means I have time to stretch and decompress. He wakes up at 8:30 a.m., on. the. dot. I used to try to squeeze every last ounce of sleep out of the night, but for the last few days, I've gotten out of bed an hour or more before the baby. I salute the sun a few times and get right to drilling. I have a lot of material to work with that I need to apply before I lose it completely.

Today Nev is still sleeping and it's 10:15. My left eye is growing a sty to which I'm applying a warm tea bag while surfing the net. Yesterday was President's Day so my mom had the day off. About 45 minutes from here is an outlet mall. In that outlet mall is one Cole Haan store. Cole Haan makes leather bags and shoes in a price range that I normally avoid when strolling through Nordstrom. Cole Haan, however, is owned by Nike, which means that we get 50% off because my mom works there, including more because of the outlet price and whatever in store sales are going on. Post-baby life means I need a purse that can contain more than my wallet and lipstick. Namely, three diapers, a container for baby wipes, an emergency change of clothes for baby, and snacks for me cause I get hungry making all this milk all the time. It's appropriate then, that I bought a bag called "the lunch tote." It was around $90 (originally $245) and two pairs of shoes. One flat, one wedged, both sassy and after all was said and done, I got them both for $60. Score! Living in Tokyo, I know how important comfy shoes are. If I'm going to be in heels and look good walking in them, they better be well made.

Back to baby who is now nursing as I type left-handed. He's 3.5 months now! He can see everything and likes talking to people. He has talked to daddy on Skype which just melts my heart. My nickname for Nev is Bom-bom for two reasons. One, he's a big boy and Bom-bom sounds large. But really, he loves to be bumped. If you rock him, he'll fall asleep with a rhythmic bump on his toosh. Now that he's nearly 20 lbs. we put him in the umbrella stroller and roll it back and forth over the edge of a bath mat to get him his bumps so he can fall asleep. Hence the, "bump-bump, bump-bump, bump-bump." Bom-bom likes going for walks for the same reason. The cracks in the sidewalk lull him to sleep. If the walk is long enough, he'll wake up and look around but not without a nap first. Bom-bom can get fussy if there's a lot of activity going on around him. Life is overwhelming when you're 3 months old. Hell, it's overwhelming when you're 28 years old, too. Often, he just needs a nap. Which of course means, that he needs some bumpage.

Greetings from the winter wonderland! After nearly two solid weeks under a foot of snow (not exaggerating), I emerge with a two month old smiley baby. It's amazing how different he is from when we first brought him home.

Due to the weather, I wasn't able to make it to baby's six week check up. So we went in at seven weeks and he weighed a whopping 13.5 lbs. The bicep in my left arm can testify to that as well. We're sleeping through the night longer and longer these days. Breastfeeding is a life saver. If you have babies, do breast feed them. It's not only the healthiest thing for the baby and nice down time for you, but just a whole lot easier than mixing up a bottle while a baby screams at you. Not to mention that there is nothing cuter than a smiley baby on the boob. Strange, but true. Lately I've taken to rolling over on my side and plopping a nipple in the babe's mouth when he's hungry in the middle of the night. Often, he just wants a couple of squirts and is back to sleep, which means I'm back to sleep without the rigamarole of sitting up, lifting him, turning a light on, getting in position, and disrobing. Then it would be putting myself back together, getting him comfortable again, blah blah blah. Imagine doing all that and going to the kitchen in the middle of the night, warming up a bottle, only to discover that he doesn't want more than a sip.

It seemed like I'd never see then day when the baby would lie by himself for more than a minutes without wanting to be picked up. The first month is ridiculously busy. And it's impossible to figure out why you're so busy when the baby isn't doing anything! It's important that the baby be next to your body most of the time, so adjusting to life with a single limb is a big part of it. Making the mental adjustment that you're no longer on your own time contributes to that as well. That first month, getting a shower or doing a load of laundry seems impossible. When you do have some down time, all you want to do is stare at the baby! There is nothing better than a sleeping baby lying on you either. So any opportunity to put the baby down and do something was quelled by my desire to sleep with the baby or stare at him. I realize yet again how lucky I am to be with my mom. She knows just what to do and kept me well fed during the first month. Considering that it takes 2000 extra calories a day to make breast milk, it's extremely important to get enough to eat and drink. My midwife told me to have someone bring me a big glass of water every time I sat down to breast feed. I've added 50 kegels to that rule of thumb. I must do around 500 kegels a day. And you know I'm doing them to Middle Eastern rhythms. Haha!

I began taking the baby out with me at the one month mark. I had this baby sling that I'd put him in and he'd just sleep as I walked around. He still needed to eat every couple of hours, so I knew my window of time was an hour and a half at best. Still, it was nice to be able to take him places. I should say, it was nice to actually get dressed and be out in the world. Unfortunately the sling I had was a little small for me once my milk came in, so as he grew, it became too small for him. Then I learned that this baby doesn't like to be bundled because his body is so hot, so the sling thing, which is all about the bundle, wasn't working anymore. He'd prefer to be carried, which is what I do these days. He'll sleep in your arms all day if you just carry him. Hence my biceps. I didn't buy a stroller (or, as my boyfriend calls them, Baby SUVs) because Tokyo life doesn't allow for one. Besides, nothing says frumpy more blatantly than a fluffy beige pram loaded down with primary colored dangling things. I'm in search of the perfect baby carrier. I think I found one, the Beco Butterfly Baby Carrier. I'll let you know how that goes.

Occasionally I have those, "Holy shit, I don't know why you're crying," moments. Again, my mom is good for that. I remember a particularly frustrating night when I was extremely tired and he was just wailing. It was every thing I tried just pissed him off more. I had no idea why. He had eaten, he had burped, his diaper was changed. I held him, rocked, bumpy rocked, walked around the house, hummed in his ear, I could NOT get him to stop. My mom came out of her room and said, "Here let me try," and told me she'd bring him to me and to go to sleep. She had him sleeping in less than an hour. She told me that sometimes babies just need to cry and you have to let them. I, on the other hand, took it extremely personally. It is so frustrating to not be able to soothe your own baby. I realize now that it's not about "getting" him to stop, but just letting him get to sleep on his own time. And through whatever process that takes. These days, I practice footwork and hip isolations while rocking him to sleep. I have a particular bump/shimmy sequence that seems to make sleep come quicker. So whether that means fifteen minutes or an hour, it's something that takes my mind off how far from sleep he may be. Babies can be screaming one minute and cooing at you the next though, so that stressful ten minutes or so is wiped clean from the memory pretty easily.

Which brings us up to date. Nev now makes those cute baby sounds. He says, "a-goo, a-ga, hoo," and some indefinable other sounds that I assume are Mandarin Chinese. He smiles responsively and finds polka-dotted things funny and entrancing. The other day he jabbered on to a wall of glasses frames at Binyons. Call me conceited, but I think he thought it was a wall of mommies. Or, as my midwife put it, a breast milk buffet. There's a song I sing sometimes when he's eating that always makes him smile. He doesn't know yet that Mommy can't really sing, so that's sweet. Most days he stays in his pajamas because they're warm and cover his feet but today was special. Why, you inquire? Because this morning he laid a royal poop that climbed up out of his diaper and onto the inside of his pajamas. What better time than to try on some new camouflage pants? Hey, when life gives you lemons...you know the rest. Until next time, a-goo-ba-goo.

that having a baby changes your life completely. Everything is different: your perception of time, of will, of energy, of love. The constant, and I mean CONSTANT, Okay, so they DO tell you that. In fact, people told me that all the time while I was pregnant. "Things will never be the same," they said. And, "You will be blown away at the amount of love you can have for someone." Both true. Both vague.

It's been about three weeks and I haven't had enough free hands to type. I can hold the baby and click, yes, but I type I cannot. I've been feeding him every two hours for twenty-three days. Sleep deprivation, apparently, is something you can live with. Who knew? I'm a sleeper. Furthermore, I'm a napper. Or, I was. He's great at letting me know that he needs something. And right now those needs are limited to food, diaper change, burps, and snuggle time. But really, we are constantly snuggling. I've ventured out into the world with him a few times. I have a couple of baby slings that I put him in and he loves it. They keep him right next to my body which probably reminds him of being in the womb. As an added bonus, he's a hot body and keeps me pretty warm in return.

My body is getting back to normal. I had a couple of small tears from pushing him out, but nothing that needed stitches. I'd say that peeing through an open wound for a week was far worse than labor itself. A friend of mine reminded me what a wuss I had been while getting my tattoo. So I'd say that labor and pushing out a baby is less painful than having a needle poked into you repeatedly for forty-five consecutive minutes. My belly still has that dark brown line down the center. Apparently it could be there for a few months! And my belly button is a bit stretched out. Otherwise, I have no complaints for three weeks. My hips are a couple of inches wider which means the brand new Eman I bought is no where near covering the booty. You may see it on Bhuz soon. Not to mention the girls. Oh the joys of breast feeding and my size D girls! I don't think any of my costumes can accommodate them right now. I wonder if they will remain this big as long as I breast feed. Oh well, the silhouette is bodacious.