I looked like hot trash, but I did it. I hadn't had proper sleep in probably 2 weeks, and forgot to bring the one makeup item that could have made me look half-alive, but I did it. H was as jet lagged as an infant can be, but she did amazing during the ceremony and flights and ig infant headphones really do help for equalizing ear pressure on flights. Plus: nursing helps.
My parents got a bunch of congratulations from family members (I guess that’s how this whole thing works?).
We had dinner at Tupelo Honey; I tried shakshouka for the first time. 10/10: love.
Inasmuch as I’m even in this dimension considering jet lag and sleep deprivation, I do love Omaha. People are…Midwest nice? They’re having an actual Spring? It’s green not muddy and eldritch - which, I DO love muddy and eldritch, but it’s nice to have a change of pace every once in a while. Turn of the century houses? Got ‘em. Every other house looks like the pink palace in Coraline (the movie). I mean, not in the suburbs obviously. YOU know.
The Airbnb I’m currently staying at is tonally the same as staying at my Grandma’s house in the 90s up to and including this one poem.
Otherwise, it’s been both nice and not so having my parents chauffeur me around. They are proud and help how they can. But they are not kid people and babies are not intuitive for them. They are more likely to stand and stare while I wrangle the baby and the equipment than the average bear, although this is getting better with repetition and over time. Almost every statement spoken is bookended by a derisive laugh. Is it because of discomfort? Actual disdain?
It makes me self-conscious. I don't particularly like who I am at times; I am so very scared that I come off like they do. This is nothing new.
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