At 1:00 pm today I became the kind of crazy person who spends $65 on an infant massage class. I’m only a little bitter that my baby is getting 5 weeks of massages when I’m still sporting the remains of the blue toenail polish I had on when I gave birth, but somehow it’s easier justifying the cost when it’s “for the baby”. My father used that phrase to amass an enormous train collection when I was a kid, claiming he was buying them all “for the baby”. Of course, infant massage won’t leave Baby Evan with several boxes of unwanted train junk in his basement when I one day say “Here, we bought these for you, baby.”
The class itself was fun and the teacher, Amy, was very nice. There were 5 other moms and 6 other babies (one has twins!) ranging in ages from 1 to 9 months. I really love seeing other people’s babies, especially when they’re just a little older than mine. Today we started with the babies’ legs and feet since supposedly that was the body part least likely to make them scream. HA. At some point, every single child cried or yelled and they all squirmed and thrashed. Baby Evan was actually OK with the touching but wouldn’t stop throwing up all over me and the pillows. But suddenly at the end of class he turned in Screamy McScreamerson, the bright red angry midget who wants to pop your ear drums. Yah for me, I officially won the worst behaved baby award for the week – although when he WASN’T screaming everyone commented on how alert and aware he was for his age. Amy thinks he might have been overstimulated, what with the lights and the colors and the noise and the OMGTHATTHINGLOOKSLIKEMEWHATISITWHATISIT??? Next week I’m going to get there a little earlier so he has time to adjust to the people and the room before I start poking him all over. Let’s hope he starts to appreciate his massages by the end of the session so I didn’t just spend $65 on five weeks of baby torture.