3/12/08 Number 34

I had a brutal, splitting headache all night and all day, one of the worst non-migraines I've ever had (there is a difference). Still, being woken up numerous times during the night with intense headache does not make for a good day.

Somehow, despite the merciful time change letting us all sleep until 7:30, we all got up "early" today and jumped back into the routine, headache notwithstanding.

First, the morning news: Captain UnderPants Julian was dry!! I'm beside myself. Even if he goes backward and bedwets for another year, this is still the most success at night-training the Doudna household has ever experienced. Dave got him up at 11:30pm to pee last night, and I think we'll keep doing that for a while until his morning dryness is well-established.

I stuck out the headache at work for 7 hours, then left to go home. Dave called me right as I was leaving: Gabriel was complaining of a stomach-ache. So I went right to pick him up, then Julian, and asked Melissa to bring Katrina home. Angel that she is, she did and spared me 30 minutes of annoying driving.

Katrina was really, really grumpy, even for her, and wouldn't eat. The one place she didn't cry or screech was outside, where I got her to half-heartedly eat some of a banana. But as soon as she caught sight of the tricycle, that was it. Then she'd play with the tricycle endlessly, saying "sih? sih?" when she wanted to sit on it and couldn't figure out how. Making dinner was impossible, and I finally gave up on multitasking until Dave got home.

So I felt deserving of another shot at tonight's Zumba class. I slammed dinner on the table and then ran to change, realizing it was already 7:06. I had to be at the Y by 7:15 when the passes get handed out! Without even tying my shoes or stopping to kiss my bewildered boys, I sprinted out to the car and took off. Incredibly, I made the green on the one long light, got the last parking spot in the lot, and ran inside....only to see a long line filing past the front desk, where passes were being handed out. I anxiously joined the line at the end. "Number 20!" the lady handing out the passes called...I couldn't count ahead of me, but I hadn't even rounded the corner yet. "I'm handing out number 30, 31, 32, 33--" that was the lady in front of me...one more person...no wait, that's her friend just talking to her -- "Number 34! That's it, class is full!" And I stood in shock, holding a plastic card with the number 34 on it. "OH MY GOD!" I heard myself call aloud. I MADE IT! I felt the same rush I do when I win an eBay auction in a blistering bidding war at the end. I was now one of the privileged, one of the Anointed Ones.

After a half-hour wait (which I made use of in the crowded fitness center), I finally got to take Eva's Zumba class. It was totally worth it. I learned this years ago in dance classes: the quality of teaching makes ALL the difference. That woman can move!

No amount of dance training can teach you Latin-style if you haven't done it. I looked like a serious white boy, unable to loosen up where it counts. Years of dance class helped a little, as I know how to re-sync with the teacher and where to stand to best imitate. But most important, I know humility and that no one's looking at me, especially with such a knockout teacher. I was especially impressed that she seems to have a touch of the same tummy affliction I do, diastasis rectii, meaning, "you done had too many babies, honey, no six-pack for you," and when she moved with her astounding combination of precision and fluidity and energy, her bellybutton wiggles and jiggles -- and she doesn't care. Now that's cool.

It was interesting that the ladies who stood out in the class overall had a little more oomph in the roomph, if you know what I mean. Stick-straight-skinny so revered in ballet just doesn't cut it in Latin, you need curves.

When I got home, I peeled off every stitch of clothing I had on and put it straight into the washer. And my headache was long-forgotten. Now that's a class.

3/12/08