Tag Archives: Humor

Perfectly Normal at Night!

Posted on April 27, 2012 | 2 comments

I woke this morning and felt like a B movie actress in an old-school Skinemax flick. My bed has been more Slip and Slide than Soft Core in the last three months. Now would be a good time for my male readers (in particular those to whom I am related) to just move along.

My post partum bleeding was average. But my hyper focus on doing and being everything to everyone meant it came back for round two. “You’re doing too much,” said the midwife. But I have a six year old and an infant and a husband and I am trying to justify in my own mind why I do not have much of an income anymore!! So that means I need to spread mulch and clean my ceiling fans, right?

And then I decided that jogging at 6 weeks post partum was important to my sanity. And the post partum bleeding came back again.

If that weren’t enough fun… my period returned at 9 weeks in spite of my frequent night nursing and the voracious day time appetite of my nursling. Lucky girl, right? Exclusive breastfeeding is supposed to postpone the return of your fertility.

I have a three month old baby this week and will be celebrating my one year wedding anniversary on April 30th. Do the math. I am plenty fertile. We may actually have gotten pregnant at the altar. So back to the midwive’s office I went for a new IUD.

In spite of my issues with my last one there is no better non-hormonal way to prevent pregnancy. Unless you count infant-induced abstinence. The new IUD brought with it the week long “spotting.” Have all the sex you want, just ignore the bleeding, right?

So that about sums up the leaking in the southern regions. Upstairs? My side of the bed has smelled like sweetened condensed milk for the last three months. If you’ve not ever been or loved a lactating woman perhaps you are unaware of this fun fact – milk does not let down only from the boob to which the baby is attached. Boobs are on or off. There is no fade. No balance, like the car stereo. Nursing pads have been my constant companion. And one must hold them in place with something. So add to the equation a sports bra, a nursing tank, something. All. the. time.

Add it all up. The exercise, the hair cut, the positive outlook, the husband and the newlywed status (for three more days!) and I still didn’t really feel like a Woman. Contrary to any kind of logic, all of this very female leaking does not magnify my Womanliness in my own mind.

But this morning I woke up feeling like a capital letter W Woman. I still had a wiggly baby to my right. And a bed rail. And a towel I had stuffed down my shirt next to the opposite boob and dark circles under my eyes because a certain someone woke up four times last night to eat (thank you very much three month growth spurt.) So why did I wake feeling more Miss Universe and less Mother of the Year?

I went to bed last night in black underwear and no nursing bra and a black tank top with easy access (for the kiddo! don’t get excited.) And I woke up dry.
Unencumbered by leak-catchers of any sort.

And damn if I didn’t feel smokin’. Who knew the absence of my own bodily fluids is all it would take? Sitting right now with my laptop perched on the arm of the rocking chair,drool running down my arm, in the clothes I was wearing yesterday I threw on so I could peel myself out of bed to pack lunch for school… I still feel unstoppable.

I snapped a picture this morning to remind me who I am under all of this Mom-ness. My stomach may only be flat when I lie down. And my stretch marks are still visible, even in the early morning light. But there is a hip bone under there. And a bare shoulder. And they need some attention.

* Shout out to Keller Williams for the title. All morning I have been singing Freeker by the Speaker to myself. Subbing out “Leaker” for Freeker and tweaker. Try it. It’s catchy. “Leaker! Right by the speaker, never seem to get enough. Priceless expression when space is possession. Like yeah, that’s the stuff…”

I just might bust out a windmill or a backspin at the grocery store today.

2 Comments

Posted in Family, Parenting, Pregnancy

Tagged bleeding, Breastfeeding, gross, healthy-living, Humor, keller williams, Pregnancy, Sick sense of Humor

This Week in Pictures

Posted on March 30, 2012 | 4 comments

I learned a few things this week. Some of them more interesting than others. MQD sent me one of his texts that ordinarily send me on a wild emotional ride. The kind that start with “I would appreciate it if you would stop XYZ.” They typically make me defensive and cry-y for a day or two but this week I had an a-ha moment. I just listened and absorbed. Put myself in his shoes and realized I am kind of a pain in the ass sometimes. So, there was that.

Em started soccer and went to the orthodontist. MQD and I got our shit together and met with a friend to get our life insurance policies squared away. Somehow that combination of events made me feel like a real Grown Up.

A lot happened. And nothing happened. It was a week, a regular week as a family where nothing crazy happened. No big life changing thought processing. No crying jags. I don’t know what happened exactly. But I feel smarter and older than I was last Friday night.

So no big post this week, thought I’d share a few of the smaller things I learned this week via pictures.

I learned that getting your taxes done before April 15th makes you feel like you have your shit together. And that it is totally possible to get your self and your two month old out the door at ten after seven in the morning to be there before 8 am! And that getting some exercise after that is the only way to justify showing up in yoga pants and a sweatshirt. Taxes and exercise in one day? That was a good day.

Last time I went to Cary it was to get boudoir pics taken for MQD. This trip was not as titillating.

I learned that I need to learn to cut myself a break. I’m trying to pull off the working a few hours a week, stay at home momming, working out regularly thing. I don’t seem to manage my stress as well as Lucy. Next time I am feeling overwhelmed I’m taking a page from her book and I suggest you do the same. Sometimes you just need to take five.

Meeting running long? No problem. Take a nap.

For the zillionth time in my life I was reminded that just because a lot of people are doing it… it doesn’t mean I need to refrain, just on principle. I was never the kid that did something just because everyone else was. Rather I refused to do it, because it was too popular. And guys, Words with Friends is good stuff. I am so down with it. For now. Even if Nazis are unacceptable.

Not acceptable.

The last thing that I learned was the most practical. Moms are busy. And if you want to get everything done in a day, including some time for yourself, you need to plan ahead. This week I did just that. I’ve been trying to make it to an exercise class three times a week. And work a little here and there. Twice this week I ran straight to work from class. Changed in to a clean shirt at my car, sweaty sports bra and stinky vibrams swapped for a nursing bra and flipflops. Changed Lucy’s diaper on the front seat and we were off.

Note to self: if you leave a poopy diaper and your stinky vibrams in your car and it is 75 degrees out…. roll your windows down. For real.

In summary – Pay your taxes, take a nap, play scrabble and clean out your car. It will make you feel awesome. I promise. Oh, and take a shower with a friend.

Happy National Cleavage Day

4 Comments

Posted in Family, Nonsense, Parenting

Tagged Humor, Lucy, motherhood, SAHM, stay at home mom

Second Fiddle

Posted on March 27, 2012 | Leave a comment

I couldn't have loved him more if I had given birth to him.

I used to have a bumper sticker that said “My Labrador Retriever is smarter than your honor student.”

This morning I got another bumper sticker. This one was not for my dog. In our county the Kiwanis program sponsors a “Terrific Kid” program. Students are recognized for having outstanding character. Em is this month’s Terrific Kid from her class. MQD, Lucy and I piled in to the cafeteria with parents and Kiwanis members and we clapped and watched the kids get their certificates, their pencils, a sticker and the bumper sticker I had mocked so many years ago.

I held my sweet Lucy in my arms and I smiled back when strangers smiled at her little face. “She’s adorable,” said the strangers and I smiled. But my smile was not as bright as it ordinarily is. Instead my eyes said “Sure, yeah, she’s cute but look up there – my big girl. She is TERRIFIC, dammit!!”

Lucy played second fiddle to our big girl this morning and fortunately she was comfortable there. I took my first child to the vet this morning for his annual check up. In to the reception area we went, Fish on a leash, Lucy in her seat. My hands were full but I did not feel particularly frazzled.

I got the smiles from the strangers in the waiting room at the vet. I smiled back. “How old?” said the woman with the greyhound puppy. “He will be nine this Easter Sunday.”

And I laughed. I think she might have meant the baby. Two months and one week, Miss Lucy was in the spotlight. Then it was unceremoniously taken from her.

Welcome to the family, Lucy Goose. Sharing is a bitch. But you’ll get used to it.

Big, brave boy at the vet

What’s the opposite of Desperate? Grateful?

Posted on March 6, 2012 | 5 comments

There’s a Barbie bike
No beer cans or ash trays.
It is official.

Coffee in one hand
I’m doing the baby sway
In Sweats and slippers.

Smile on my face
The bus driver waves at me.
I can’t deny it.

Dishwasher humming
Today Show in the background
I’m not pretending.

I am all grown up.
Welcome to suburbia.
I can’t turn back now.

5 Comments

Posted in Parenting

Tagged haiku, Humor, Kids, Parenting

The Shittiest Five Seconds

Posted on March 5, 2012 | 7 comments

At first glance you’d think it was obvious. What is the shittiest five seconds of my day? Because the exact same thing happens every single day.

I was a lifeguard for many, many years. After that I still sat at the pool more hours than a girl working two jobs should be able to squeeze out of a summer. You’d think I’d wise up eventually, get out of the sun. But instead I moved to the beach. Needless to say my skin has suffered. I was careful about putting sunscreen on my face, around my eyes, on my chest. All the places I didn’t want to see freckles become age spots.

Somehow I managed to overlook my arms completely.

If you ever want to see your skin look old and battered, hold it up against a newborn baby.

And now, some twenty years after my first job as a lifeguard the sunspots on my arms give me pause. Daily. They don’t remind me to put on sunscreen. Not at all.

They make me stop and think. Oh man. I have shit on my arm.

And every single day I try to wipe them off. This might seem absurd if it were not that I do get shit on my hand, on my leg (as I sit on the floor, Lucy between my legs wiggling through a diaper change) every day.

I’d planned on writing today about the perspective that is gained by having children. I knew that I’d view all kinds of things differently through the lens of motherhood. But I had not imagined that I’d see the signs of aging on my arms and think “well at least it isn’t poop!” and smile. And yet that’s exactly how it plays out.

But today that was not the shittiest five seconds of my day. Today there were five entire seconds that were worse than thinking I was aging too quickly OR that I had shit on my arm.

Lucy slept through our trip to the grocery store. She blinked for a moment as I pushed the cart in to the cart wrangling area in the parking lot. I managed to carry all the grocery bags back to my trunk in one trip. It was bitter cold when I got home. And I startled myself by setting off the house alarm when I got back. I had forgotten that I had set it. I ran back out to the car to get the groceries and Lucy, it was so very cold out. And windy.

I grabbed a few grocery bags in one arm and looked in to the back seat. Her car seat wasn’t there. I ran back inside. In to the kitchen. Not there. In to the living room, not there. What had been small tears when I was at my car had become big, Lifetime movie tears in a matter of seconds, “Luuuucyyyy!!!!” I cried out. Fisher barked. And I ran back towards the door to close it, the last thing I needed was for Fish to take off running.

All I could see in my mind was her sweet face, blinking in wide eyed amazement at the wind in the parking lot, in her car seat, in the grocery store parking lot.

Whenever MQD or Emily are missing I always check the bathrooms. Same goes for Lucy, I guess.

As I closed the door to the driveway I laughed…. there she was, sound asleep. In her seat. Next to the litter box. Right where I put her when the alarm started beeping. Which was probably an awful lot worse than had I actually left her in the parking lot for twenty minutes.

As much as I wanted to pull her out of her seat and wrap her little arms around my neck, squeeze her and tell her that I love her with everything I am…. I put away the groceries, cleaned all three bathrooms and folded two loads of laundry before she woke up. Oh, and emptied the litter box. Since my sweet girl was gonna nap in the guest bath room.

And today…. THAT was the shittiest five seconds of my day. I am fairly certain it aged me more than the sun ever did.

7 Comments

Posted in Bad Mood, Parenting

Tagged diaper change, grocery bags, Grocery Shopping, Humor, lost kid, Lucy, shitty day, Sick sense of Humor

Cha Cha Cha!

Posted on August 5, 2011 | 15 comments

I wish this was gonna be about my most excellent Latin dance skills. But sadly it is not.

Ever since Karen wrote the other day about her thoughts and feelings on the pregnancy body I have been keeping a mental checklist of thoughts on my own. I really thought this go-round would be similar to my pregnancy with Em and that I’d find comfort in the fact that creepy weird pregnancy things that no one ever talks about would not sneak up on me. I mean, I have done this before, right? Evidently that is not the case.

In the few short days I have been thinking about this I have come up with more than a few delightful side effects of pregnancy that have astounded me all over again. Here they are in order of ascending grossness.

First sign of my struggle with the pregnancy body is that I stop looking in the mirror without my clothes on. The only bathroom in our house with a shower is not large, but it does offer two fantastic features. A window in the shower and a mirror that is not directly across from you. The window means you don’t have to turn the lights on in the morning, which I have always rather enjoyed and the mirror’s relationship to the bathtub means you do not have to actively avoid looking at your full-frontal naked self every morning when you get out of the shower. This is always a perk, in my book, but even more so pregnant. Consequently when Em and I hopped in the shower the other day after the swimming pool I was ill-prepared for her observation.

She is laughing. I am washing my hair. Like a fool, I ask her “What?”

“Your boobs look like they have a chopped off hot dog sticking out of them.”

I’ll give that a minute to sink in.

Damn, kid. She had ruined my illusion. The illusion I had of myself with perfectly normal boobs. I have seen enough boob both in real life and in umm… film and pictures to have a preferred boob style. And let’s just say that hot dog nipples and enormous areolas nine shades darker than the skin tone surrounding them were not it.

How had I forgotten about this? Sure, I have been gifted jugs a cup size larger than my normal of late, but in exchange I have had to trade in my perfectly normal nips (n squared, if you will) for this freak show. And don’t get me started on the gigantic blue vein that should pop up any day now.

Moving on… in order of ascending grossness, you are both reminded and warned. A week or so ago I realized I had an appointment with my midwife coming up and that I should probably remember to ask her if I can take a stool softener. I know I can google it. But I try to have one question. It makes me feel like a “good patient” to have a question at each appointment. Yes, I am that approval seeking.

While the constipation was unpleasant enough, it gets worse. The fact that I had begun to envision the “ring of fire” that comes with a baby’s head crowning every time I tried to produce a dime sized turd was making me both worried and furious. Worried that if these totally unsatisfying bowel movements were making me cry and imagine the pain of labor that I’d never survive an actual unmedicated labor. And furious that while I had been in the bathroom for upwards of twenty minutes the toilet still resembled a game of marbles. One in which no one even brought a shooter.

So, I did the only thing I knew to do. I drank a cup of real coffee. And it was delicious. And that morning’s drive to work was fabulous. I miss coffee.

Twenty minutes after I got to my office I thought I was going to die. I would be found dead. In the office bathroom. A dent in the top of my head where it had caved in from the sheer gravitational pull of the ferocious diarrhea I was experiencing. Oh and my shirt would be ripped open. Not (as you might expect) to give a sexy sort of Woman Ravaged on a Cover of A Romance Novel look (and you are supposed to have already forgotten about the hotdog nipples and the diarrhea in order for that imagery to be effective) but because I thought I was having a motherfucking heart attack and I needed to see if my heart was, in fact, beating on the outside of my chest from the caffeine.

Lesson learned. While the coffee did produce the opposite effect of constipation, it was no more desirable.

Flash forward to the next day. Same intestinal disaster. With the added bonus of vomiting. I am coming up on day five of this good time. This morning as I wretched in to a trash can and wondered if I might be able to get upstairs to the other bathroom before “the spirit” moved me again I looked down to the floor. “Thumbs Up!” said the cheerful giraffe sticker Em had stuck to the floor. I had no choice but to laugh. Thumbs up, alright. Up my ass if I am gonna get anything done today besides sit around in the bathroom.

So, that’s the top three things I have forgotten about pregnancy so far. Freak show hot dog nipples, constipation and it’s bitch of a sister diarrhea.

In other news, it’s Casual Friday for me. Pigtails, flip-flops, my favorite crooked glasses and my boombox belt buckle. While you may disapprove of my freaky nipple and poop talk, you have got to applaud my efforts at taking a picture of a belt buckle (that I can not see) with my phone. For you. I do it all for you.