Tuesday, July 5, 2005

Le Tour frustrations

If you don’t recognize “Le Tour” you might want to skip this one too…

We have been desperately trying to find Le Tour on TV Azteca. According to the official Tour website, Mexico (which for some reason known only to the French resides on the continent of South America) is supposed to carry Le Tour on TV Azteca. We haven’t been able to find it yet, have no Internet access (Velosport provides stage text coverage the last 3 hours of a stage) and are searching for a bar or cantina or restaurant with ESPN International (which is supposed to carry live coverage). Postings on the Velosport forum, emails to TV Azteca, Velosport and OLN and screaming to the winds have produced no results. Looking at the date, I realize that a holiday is in the works. One year ago, people from all over Mexico marched on DF demanding a decrease in kidnappings, violence, murder and violence against politicians. July 2nd was the anniversary of this march and celebrations commerating the decrease in violence were planned. Course, I gathered all this from the news and could be wrong on some points.

Me thinks that there might be another celebration happening north of the border, but why ANYONE would design to leave the comfort of their cable TV while Le Tour is on is beyond me. We watch no TV other than the month of July (Le Tour) and September (Giro de España). When we lived in a stick house (that’s how RV’ers refer to houses that aren’t on wheels; aren’t I so With the LINGO?) I would order cable TV once a year and take advantage of free installation and 3 months 1/2 price and then once the Giro was over the cable was turned off. Ten years of that and the cable company never once refused. They too must have understood the NEED for Tour coverage.

Eleven years ago, I was washing dishes in the teeny tiny kitchen of our first home (rental). The kitchen was so incredibly tiny that only one person could walk into it at a time. Of course, Jamie was watching Le Tour on TV. All of a sudden I felt a gush (you might want to excuse yourself from this one also; I can’t seem to let go of bodily fluids today…) and wondered if I’d just peed on myself. I was 9 months pregnant and due in two weeks. I wandered into the bathroom (well, more like waddled with my legs pressed tightly together; quite a feat when you’re so off balance by the enormous protrusion on your belly, that you are likely to fall over in a light wind) and waited. It didn’t take long to realize that it was not pee but my bag of waters.  While only 15% of pregnant women actually break their water before labor, I managed to achieve that feat in 3 out of 4 pregnancies.

Anyway, this being our first, Jamie bounded out of his chair and began running about the tiny little house in circles (which was much harder than it sounds due to the size of the place) discarding ideas of what to do as soon as they entered his head. I calmly sat and waited for the frenzy to stop. We found paper and pen and waited for the contractions to start so we’d have something to time. Surely we would have SOMETHING to time, no? We called the doctor (our first was born in hospital) and were told to come immediately to hospital. We decided to wait until we could wait no longer. My contractions began every 15 minutes and were, within the hour, at every 2 minutes. This didn’t seem to fit the textbook model and we were certain that delivery was eminent as the books indicated 2 minutes apart was “GO time”. We hastily called off picnic plans and rushed to the hospital, certain that I would likely deliver in the car. The contractions stayed this way the entire labor. Two minutes apart; they were exhausting and terrible.

Some 15 hours later, after declining multiple offers of narcotics and then finally succumbing, I pushed out the tineyest little monster I ever saw. Pictures show me reaching for him immediately after he emerged though I don’t remember. He nursed only a couple minutes at a time every four minutes and I was certain he was underfed. He was a skinny, scrawny little minute. To this day, he eats the least of all of us. Even the 3yo, who subsists mainly on air, eats more than he does. He is maturing into a wonderful boy who has absolutely no problem being constantly taken for a girl here in Mexico. He is very much like me; he constantly questions authority and any decision made. He is very confident and a very healthy self-esteem. Were it possible, he would start each day with a five gallon container of sugar and work on it all day long. He is my first, my guinea pig, my ray of light and my best effort. I could not have hoped for a better child to challenge my assumptions and teach me the ways of the world.

Much more pictures later, but it has taken 17 minutes just to get this one uploaded. Ugh.

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