BYOB

Yep, we had to sign up last night at prenatal classes to bring goodies and/or beverages to future classes.

Last night was Class 1 of the six classes that make up our course. I am, for the moment, non-plussed. It was nice to meet everyone [or, re-meet, as in the case of Mr.Q’s allergist – what odds!?] hear where they’re at, where they’re coming from and where they’re planning on going, with regards to their babies, at least. There were roughly 24 people there, of which we were average in age and later in due date.

We were one of only two couples who [admitted to] knowing the sex of the baby – and the other couple wasn’t divulging. I was the only pregnant person who did not comment on having spent the first trimester, at least, vomiting [because, well, I didn’t]. We were the only couple in which at least one member was not fluent in a second language and planned to teach that language to their baby.

How’s that for impatient, abnormal and unworldly. Great.

I’m giving the class another couple of weeks before I make up my mind as to its usefulness. Based solely on last night, it seemed more than a little rushed and poorly weighted [10 minute video about doulas – which was great – but what felt like about only 5-10 uninspired minutes on warning signs of premature labour…].

Perhaps it was just the first night of feeling things out. Perhaps my expectations are a little too high. Perhaps I just need to read the little booklet they gave us and take the rest as bonus material.

Bonus material, and snacks. So long as everyone brings good snacks, it’ll all be worthwhile.

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Oh, why do I do this to myself? I hate having to choose a renter – it makes me feel positively evil. From among another week of good bloggers [check back and bid again, guys!], please welcome Newfie Girl to my sidebar. She’s promoting my current fave American Idol [can Canucks vote??], has an adorable fur baby and a good way with words. So, click over and have a read while she’s here!

The T Stop has taken her place among former tenants, so don’t forget to keep track of her too.

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