Christmas Posada

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Friday night was our Christmas Posada for school.  Basically, that means party…  Apparently a traditional posada is a lot of fun: piñatas, candy, gifts, etc.  This was fun too–it was just more of a dress-up, dance, and have-a-good-time party.

So, in typical Jania-style, we went shopping Thursday night for Victor’s suit.  In our defense, we were super busy all week with birthing classes and meeting…  The mall was gorgeous–all decked out for the holidays.  We celebrated with a Chinese buffet.  Yum!  Americans would have been outraged by this place.  The Chinese restaurants are NOT the place to go in the evening.  They are always running out of food.  On the other hand, if you get there first thing when they open–it’s fresh and yummy!  They just don’t want to throw away food at night–so we literally scraped the bottoms of the containers.
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We saw a performance of a school group too.  This is very different from our performances at home.  Remember choir concerts at our mall?  Pretty simple, eh?  Go. Sing. Get off the risers.  Not Mexicans.  All the performances I have seen here include the students moving as one up onto the risers.  Standing up.  Sitting down.  It’s all in the mass movement.

I’ve been hearing about how fun the posadas are here since August.  So, you might say I had pretty high expectations.  Everyone found seats (we had some saved for us right beside the dance floor), and the best part was that the WHOLE staff was there.  Not just the teachers. I really enjoyed seeing the custodial staff dressed up with their spouses.  Honestly, sometimes, I really enjoy them more.  They are so genuine.  I enjoy my second lunch I take with one lady.   (It’s when I eat my snack.)  She and I talk about my husband, baby, and life in general.

The real fun begins when they start the music though.  Let me just tell you: I really feel sorry for my husband.  He is an AMAZING dancer, and his wife has two left feet and seemingly no rhythm.  I am going to get him to dance with me every night until I become better.  The best part is: it doesn’t really matter what you dance like in Mexico.  Everyone is just there to have a good time.  I’ve never felt like I was really being judged by anyone else on the dance floor.

One of my friends was bummed because they didn’t play modern music, but honestly, Mexican music is SO much better!  It’s easier to move to!

It hit me while I watched all the people moving and shaking on the dance floor: I can’t believe I live here!  I can’t believe that this is just part of my life now–so normal!  When I first came to Mexico it was all so foreign to me–and now I look forward to making my husband dance with me!  I listen to people speak without that lurch in my throat of panic.  I belong here.  At least for now…

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How To Have a Baby 101

Victor found a midwife back in August.  Us being the eager parents that we were, we went to visit her studio right away.

She sent us away, and told us to return when I was further along.

This week was our first week returning to what I call Birthing Classes.  I have somewhere around 26-27 weeks right now.  I am super confused about how far along I really am (not that five days makes a difference) and when I am due.  Every doctor I visit tells me a different day.  So now when people ask when I am due, I say, “Sometime around the 7th to the 12th.”

See, having a baby here is a little strange.  I mean, I read/watched documentaries about giving birth in the United States and the rise of C-sections–but they have nothing on Northern Mexico.  The rate here is 90%.  Not joking.  This week I met the first two ladies here who had their children naturally.

So, armed with a load of questions, off we went.

Victor is really great.  That was my first realization in the class.  All the women prance around doing their exercises and breathing practice, while the men sit on the couch eating candy.  No joke.  How fair is that?  They play on their smart phones, and are seemingly oblivious to what is going on.

Then my husband joined me for exercises.

He also has the task of translating most information for me.  Sometimes he’ll say, “It’s not important.” Or later he will apologize and say, “Sorry, honey, I am learning too.  It’s hard to translate when I am learning.” This is what happened the first night.

We were surprised when another lady joined us.  She’s a representative for the La Leche group (which, by the way, is non-existent in Torreón according to internet).  She was armed with some fast talking and a Power Point.  I am learning so much new vocabulary, but due to my excessive reading of all things baby-mama, I could struggle along.  We sat together after our Daddy and Me time, and listened intently.  When I asked Victor what was up, he said, “You already know all this.”

He later clarified for me, “You know, your mom is really good.  Everything she said tonight your mom has already told you.”  This was right after he told me of all the questions the girls asked the lactation specialist.  Questions like, “If I drink more milk, will I have more milk?”

 

 

 

Oh, Husband Dear…

Let me just preface this by saying that I am the baby whisperer.  That might be a slight exaggeration, but I have held about a million babies.  Okay, that too.

I’ve held my share of babies.  And my friends’ shares because they get all nervous around babies.  I remember the first baby I “put to sleep.” He was this adorable little twin, and I was so proud of myself.  I was probably about 8.  Since then, I’ve grabbed every baby that I am within ten feet of to hang onto.  My first niece was born when I was 16, and since then– twelve more kiddos have entered our family.  I haven’t dropped one.

So, dear husband, understand that when you tell me, “Hold the baby’s head!” I am taken aback.

And I reply with swagger, “This ain’t my first rodeo.” (Pretty sure that was lost on you…)

Oh, I love your concern–don’t get me wrong.  Today when I doubled over in pain after sneezing (ah, pregnancy), I thought we were going to run to the hospital.  I had to literally Google  “I am pregnant and it hurts when I sneeze” to explain WHY this happens.

I’ve had a runny nose all night, and during our movie night, every time I gave a little sniffle you would pat my leg and ask how I was.  Then, when I kicked off my shoes when I came home,  you quickly got me my slippers because I “shouldn’t walk around barefoot.”

Oh, heaven help us.

This is why I get up and fix you breakfast.  You’re too dang sweet!  I have to do nice things in return (plus I am really, REALLY hungry in the morning).    I WANT to do nice things in return.  And when you offer to help when I am running around like a chicken with my head cut off, I just love you more.

Raising a baby with you is going to be amazing.  Unless you tell me to hold his head…  Then you’re going to see a little of my Mamaw in me.  (You might not understand that, but know this: it won’t be her good side.)