Friday, September 30, 2005


Squirrel Stories: "My business would be hand-crafted jewelry and graphic design."

This is from my tag from Julie. I was talking about what I would do if I owned my own business. This was one of my lamest posts by far... but I owned up to my tag since it's Julie's birthday. Happy Birthday!

So now I pass the tag along to you...

The rules are:
1. Go into your archive.
2. Find your 23rd post.
3. Find the fifth sentence (or closest to).
4. Post the text of the sentence in your blog along with these instructions.
5. Tag five other people to do the same.

Pup, Seth, Kate, Shalini, and Tig, you guys are tagged. Nyah nyah. No tag backs.

Thursday, September 29, 2005

Married with Children... almost.

I didn’t want to get out of bed this morning. It was thunder storming, perfect weather to sleep by. I stayed in bed as long as humanly possible before I pulled my ass to the shower.

The rain and wind really did a number around here. As I was leaving I had to pick up my potted mums, which were blown over. Then I noticed all my black eyed susans were smushed from the force of the wind. On my drive to work I saw a few sideways telephone poles, and the traffic light at the intersection before my work was out. I arrived to a totally pitch black building. Our power was out too! Fun! But it only stayed out for about 20 minutes, then I had to start doing work.

Then the sun came out.

I still have tons of work to do at my house. I’ve made a significant dent in the baby shower stuff, no thanks to my husband, who is the worst procrastinator in the world. I think he’s going to actually be surprised when I go into labor. It could be November 30th and he’d be like, “already?” I took it upon myself to put together the nursery cart, which is basically a little storage cart on wheels. There’s still the co-sleeper and dresser that need put together. He says he’ll do the dresser this weekend, but we’ll see. And according to him, he’s “not worried” about the co-sleeper… it is only September… the END of September! I’m 34 weeks! Hello??? Do you want our kid to have a place to sleep or not?

Sorry. I’m harboring a little bitterness over the state of my home right now. The fact that I get absolutely NO HELP whatsoever isn’t making matters better. I’m 8 months pregnant. I can’t roll my ass off the couch without a push. How am I supposed to clean the bathrooms? The kitchen floor? Get the laundry out of the dryer?

Oh yeah, I forgot, he works a gazillion hours a day. I have such nerve to ask for anything. It’s a good thing I like him.

I’m tired and extremely cranky. Carrying a 5 or so pound kid around inside your body (who keep kicking you in the ribs), along with 40+ extra pounds can do a number on your emotional stability some days.

I have a doctor appointment tomorrow, so at least I get to sleep in!

Tuesday, September 27, 2005

Friday Night Charity

We went to the P.L.E.A.S.E. concert on Friday. P.L.E.A.S.E. being “Pittsburgh Lends Emergency and Saving Efforts” or something like that. At any rate, all the money raised from this huge concert went to hurricane relief. So it was a good thing. We went with our regular concert partners, Ryan’s work buddies and their wives. The good thing about that? Ryan’s boss’s wife recently found out she was pregnant. So I wasn’t the only one not drinking. Yay! Although something tells me that she’s not entirely happy about being pregnant, even though they tried for it. She’s got a long way to go to get to the zen place that I’m in though. And I didn’t even plan it. Hmph.

At any rate, it was a pretty good time, even if I’ve never heard half the bands there. I went mainly to see Rusted Root (awesome) and Donnie Iris (even more awesome!). Even Ryan was impressed by Rusted Root and he typically doesn’t like them. If you haven’t heard them and you like world music with lots of drumbeats, you should check them out. If you’re a fan of classic rock, you should check out Donnie Iris. Wow. For an older man, he can still rock out.

We missed Joe Grushecky, but we did get to witness the horrible spectacle that is B.E. Taylor. I was ready to puke red white and blue by the time he was done. It was like watching Lee Greenwood sing that “Proud to be an American” song over and over again. You can only sing so many songs that have USA in them. And doing a rock version of the American anthem in the middle of a concert is just tacky. The Clarks played last, and as much as I’ve tried to keep an open mind about them, I thought they sucked. They have a huge following in the Pittsburgh area, and I just don’t get it. Plus I’ve personally met them, having worked a few concerts back in my college days. All I remember about them is their rock star attitudes. They were dicks, even as nobodies. I can see having the rock star attitude if you’re, say, the Rolling Stones. But a boring Pittsburgh band? Puh-lease. Ryan had a similar experience with them when they played the Days Inn in Butler. Although because of them, me and Janae (who was my roommate at the time) got to take home 3 meat trays because they turned their noses up at them. I know how offensive meat trays can be, especially when you have them listed on your effing rider. Tsch. Ryan and I took a walk around the arena while they were playing, because I was starting to overheat in the crowd.

I didn’t hear much about how much money was raised after the fact, but seeing the enormous number of people there, it had to be quite a bit. So I was happy to be a part of it. And I love being in Pittsburgh. I only live an hour away and I only get there once a year. I love to drive into the city at night, just to see the skyline.

And on an off topic Pittsburgh note, I just found out that Michael Flatley’s "CELTIC TIGER" is at the Mellon Arena on November 11th. If I still haven’t had Fuzzball by then, I’m going. I can’t think of anything that might induce labor better than the Lord of the Dance.

Monday, September 26, 2005

One more thing…

I almost forgot. On Saturday night I saw Corpse Bride, which was fantastic, of course. Very cute. But there was a Harry Potter GoF preview before the movie started that made me want to pee my pants. Or maybe that was Fuzzball. But seriously, Potter fans, this one is going to be SO GOOD. It looks a lot darker and scarier than any of the previous movies. And since I didn’t much like PoA, I’m hoping this one will be redemption. You can see the trailer that I saw here.

Do I have to tell the story of a thousand rainy days since we first met…

It’s another rainy Monday, suitable for my mood and the fact that my shower was yesterday. For some reason I’m having post shower depression. My guess is because I have a ton of shit piled into my house and nowhere to put it. Seriously, I got so much stuff. The funniest part is, that most of the stuff I got is stuff that I didn’t really need, like clothes. I DO NOT need another single thread of baby clothing. Ever. Another weird thing is that a lot of people bought me very gender specific items, like boy outfits with cars and girly little frilly pink dresses. What makes people think that’s ok? I’d much rather have WHAT WAS ON MY LIST. Isn’t that why you make the list?

Not surprisingly I’m going to go off on a little rant here. As grateful as I am about the magnitude of gifts that I received, I’m ready to puke duckies. My friend Jamie told me that after she had her shower for her daughter, she was ready to puke pink. Well, apparently the most gender neutral clothing out there is covered in ducks. I don’t have a problem with ducks, but my kid is going to grow a beak if I dress him/her in this shit all the time. And why, why, WHY did you buy me clothes when they weren’t on my list??? I understand that it’s hard to resist the cute little outfits, but one is sufficient. I was pulling 5 or 6 outfits at a time out of gift bags.

The best outfit I got was from Starr, who got me a cute Baby Einstein outfit that I loved with the little lizard on it saying “Blah!” And it’s green. Not a hint of duckies. It may become Fuzzball’s “coming home from the hospital” outfit. My friend Janae got me my extremely expensive bedding along with matching accessories, which I totally didn’t expect from anyone. The best practical gift was from Michele, who got me my breast pump. Oddly enough, she was the ONLY person who got me anything breastfeeding related. Is that an embarrassing purchase? Someone got me a powdered formula dispenser… NOT ON MY LIST. My list obviously said that I’d be a breastfeeding mom, so I don’t get it. I had breast pads and nipple cream (that I got thanks to Michele), along with bottles and storage containers. I didn’t get one bottle. Or even a pack of stupid storage bags. Why did I have that list again? Oh yeah, so my FRIENDS who are smart could buy me what I wanted, and so old ladies could buy me pink dresses. GAH!

I know I sound like such a bitch. But if Fuzzball is a boy, he’s getting dressed up in a pink dress when I take him over to Ryan’s grandma’s house, because she was one of the gender offenders.

I did get more diapers than I can handle. The majority of them are size 1, which is 8 to 14 pounds. So I hope Fuzzball stays under 14 pounds until I can use all of them. I never need to buy baby wash or lotions. I got sheets, curtains, 3 diaper bags, the dresser, and my bouncer. All I need now is my travel system (stroller and car seat), the swing, and little items, like burp clothes, teeny shoes, and grooming stuff.

I am totally amazed that probably half of the stuff on my Target list didn’t get bought. I really wanted a lot of what was on there and now I have to buy it myself. Thankfully I got 300 bucks in Target gift cards, which will cover the travel system and swing. I’m on my own for the rest.

And BLANKETS! I must be returning 20 blankets. I probably got a dozen handmade blankets. Crocheted, knitted, embroidered, quilted, you name it, I got it. Getting those kinds of blankets really cheapen the fleece receiving blankets. Especially the ones with Looney Tunes on them that WEREN’T ON MY LIST. Oh wait, they cheapen themselves.

Ok, I’m going to stop right here before my hormones get the best of me. Too late!

The positive things were that nobody except for the bartender at the Elks Club (where the shower was) asked me what the names we picked were, and I only got 2 comments about how big I was and how much weight I gained (but one of the comments was from a slightly senile lady who later wandered into the men’s room, so she doesn’t really count).

And my mom, who put it all together. She’s a pain in the ass but she does throw one hell of a party.

Friday, September 23, 2005

Hey Mommies…

Uh, this might sound like the stupidest question ever, but it’s something you just can’t get by studying all the pregnancy books in the world. I’m pretty proud of the fact that I’ve become such an expert on pregnancy and childbirth. I think I know more than your average pregnant lady. That’s the overachiever coming out in me. But here’s what I don’t know:

What do contractions feel like???

I think I may have had some Braxton Hicks contractions last night. My belly started cramping up in little waves, but not in any kind of discernable pattern. I had to breathe through some of them since they kinda hurt. I ate some pizza and they went away. It may have been indigestion though. I don’t know. Although I do remember that when I first felt the baby kicking I thought I just had gas… turns out I was wrong about that.

I’m so glad it’s Friday. Have a good weekend everyone.

Thursday, September 22, 2005


There’s been a crapload of stuff going on this week. Firstly, I got sick on Monday and had to leave work. I had some kind of stomach virus. Mainly I just had an upset stomach and a headache. But it was enough to make me feel like a total piece of crap. I called off on Tuesday, knowing full well that my workload would only double, and it didn’t just double. It quadrupled. So needless to say, I’m a little behind in the bloggerverse. Sorry if I’m neglecting you. I don’t mean to!

This weekend promises to be just as busy, with a concert in Pittsburgh on Friday to benefit Hurricane Katrina survivors. It’s a bunch of Pittsburgh bands, like the Clarks, Rusted Root, Joe Grushecky, the Poverty Neck Hillbillies, and Donnie Iris. I’ve seen a few of those bands a couple of times, and being a closet fan of Rusted Root (E-Lo doesn’t like hippie music!!!), I’m pretty excited. Hopefully I’ll be feeling good tomorrow.

Saturday is the bridal shower of one of my oldest friends, and she happens to be having her shower at the same place that I’m having mine on Sunday, so we’ll be hanging out there for the evening and setting up. Then Sunday is my day to get presents. So far I’m less than excited about it. I can’t even think of where I’m going to put a bunch of baby stuff in my tiny house. The poor kid’s room is the size of a closet. Lucky for Fuzzball he/she is going to be small for a while, so proportionally, it fits.

But I guess it will be a relief to finally get all the stuff that I need, since I have a full wardrobe for the kid minus socks and shoes and one pack of diapers so far. I have a feeling a lot of returning is going to be happening. And looking at my registry, I haven’t gotten some of my most important items, like my travel system, which I need because it includes a car seat, and my breast pump (even though I have 2 on there, and one is $350… I highly doubt that I’ll be getting that one). Although I did get all three of my diaper bags. That makes a grand total of FOUR diaper bags that I have now. Who really needs FOUR diaper bags? I have a feeling that at least one will be on my return list, although I can’t decide which one I’d rather part with because they’re so pretty, and not baby like at all. And one is specifically for Ryan, so he doesn’t have to subject himself to carrying a girly looking purse on his outings with the baby.

You know what else is totally annoying? Just because I feel really bitchy? When people ask me “what do you want off your registry?” Uh, ALL OF IT. That’s why it’s on the list. Because I want it. Stupid. Now shut up and go buy me presents. If I was really mean I’d make them buy me my $350 breast pump.

Today’s bitchyness has been brought to you courtesy of sleeping on a terribly uncomfortable bed and getting up to pee 6 times in the middle of the night.

Have I mentioned that I’m SO OVER being pregnant? I can’t imagine how people subject themselves to this more than once. I really have to give myself time to forget if I ever want to have the 2 that I originally wanted. Cause right now I’m thinking Fuzzball will be an only child…

I will now attempt to visit some of you guys, then I really have to work.

Happy Autumnal Equinox! I heart fall… so why is the forecast for today feel like July at 83 degrees again?

Monday, September 19, 2005

Pressure, pushing down on me

According to my mother in law, I’ve “dropped.” To see evidence of that, go here. I can definitely feel the difference. You know where I feel it? In my bladder. I feel like I have to pee all the time. Even when it’s completely impossible that I should have to pee at all, like at 5:00 this morning, after having my last sip of water at 7pm, and peeing 4 times throughout the night. How is it even possible to still have to pee after all that?

I feel completely exhausted today, and completely overwhelmed by the amount of work that I’m facing. I’m praying to the gods of web and graphic designers that they hire someone soon to do the job that I’ve been covering for over the last 2 weeks. It was fun at first but today I can’t even comprehend where I should begin. There’s too much on my plate, and half of it I don’t even know how to do.

It’s such a Monday. I want to go back home and curl up on my couch and nap.

It was a pretty good weekend though, if not kind of busy. I got to watch a bunch of people get mind numblingly drunk on Saturday at a wedding. It was actually very entertaining, even though my back was absolutely killing me, especially after Ryan and I danced to a couple songs, including AC/DC. A majority of the people at the wedding have kids, so it was nice to talk to people about their experiences. What was even nicer was hearing people telling me how good I look for once. Leave it to a bunch of semi-strangers to make me feel good about myself (bloggers included).

And speaking of bloggers making me feel good about myself, a big thank you to Julie, who sent me a cute little blue drop stitch scarf that I got on Friday. It's so cute! I love getting stuff in the mail. And I do like blue. Thanks Julie!!!

I have a lot more going on emotionally that I'd love to write about here, but I just don't feel like I can at the moment. But soon I'll be writing my pregnancy reflections post, so hopefully I can address all these weird feelings tactfully then.

Is it Friday yet?

Thursday, September 15, 2005

Here's where I go off about my boobs, my boobs, my boobs...

I knew that with pregnancy your body changed entirely. Some of those changes I’ve been willing to accept, some I haven’t. My belly getting big is fine, my ass getting big isn’t. But since I’ve always been on the somewhat small chested side, I was happy to finally grow some boobies.

But let me tell you, they have grown OUT OF CONTROL. They stopped growing at a certain point, which was ok with me, but then suddenly they had another growth spurt. Now it looks like I have 2 cantaloupes sitting on my chest. Make that 2 saggy cantaloupes.

This has not been friendly on my poor little boobs. They don’t know what’s happening to them, and I don’t either. One day they hurt like hell, the next day it feels like my nipples are going to pop off, and the next I have colostrum dripping out of them. They are white globes with blue veins running through them, and now they have pretty purple stretch marks and giant dark brown nipples. The boobs rest quite nicely on my belly, as if my belly was put there to be a shelf to hold them up. What happens when my belly goes away? Where will the boobs sit then?

Even though I was a smaller girl before, a simple B cup, I always thought I had cute boobs. In fact, I’d say that they were one of my better body parts. They were perky and cute with little pink nipples that were perfectly round. I didn’t mind showing them off. Most of my friends, male and female, have seen my naked boobs.

I wouldn’t DREAM of showing anyone my pregnant boobs (except Ryan of course, since he seems to appreciate and yet fear them). They’ve morphed from little and cute to monstrous and mutated. Yesterday I was suffering from nipple discomfort. I finally decided to check it out and found that my left nipple had leaked and left a weird yellow stain in my white bra and I had a crusty slime trail over my nipple. See, NOT CUTE!

Even the look and shape of my nipples are disconcerting. Like I said, before they were little and pink. Perfectly girly. Now they’re brown and have grown to the size of dinner plates. I realize they do this so that it’s easier for your infant to find them when it’s time to eat, but HOLY SHIT.

And instead of perky, they’re saggy. Sometime I feel the need to just hold them up off of my belly.

I think part of the reason my boobs have grown so much is because they’ve grown their own brains. That is the only logical reason for their behavior. They totally do whatever it is they want to do. I’m surprised that they just don’t take off and max out my credit cards or steal my van and head to Mexico.

I do have some kick ass cleavage now though. But it’s a high price to pay, because they’ll never be little and cute and perky again. Just like the rest of my body, they will be forever changed from this. But at least I know what it’s like to have big boobs. And I didn’t even have to pay for surgery.

Wednesday, September 14, 2005

The Crying Game

Originally uploaded by Elosquirrel.

By force of sheer will, I can make myself cry. A single thought can reduce me to tears. EVERYTHING, people. Everything makes me cry.

I have an everyday fantasy about what it will be like to see Fuzzball for the first time and every single time I end up with a wet face and sniffles.

Listening to the teacher in parenting class on Monday night made me tear up.

Song lyrics, depending on the song, of course.

Seeing pictures of other peoples babies.

The realization that I am going to be unemployed for 12 weeks without any pay. How am I supposed to buy diapers again?

Animal Cops on Animal Planet. There’s always something to make me cry on that show but I can’t stop watching it. I’m hooked on embedded collars like a crackhead looking for a fix.

The fact that the maternity clothes that I bought in May when I first started needing maternity clothes no longer fit.

When Rosie’s puppy, Ivy, tried to suck on the end of my nose.

When I get kicked in a new spot. Today it’s on the right hand side, just under my ribs. It tickles and is awesome.

If I can make it through just one day without tears, it will be a miracle.

Tuesday, September 13, 2005

Thankfully nobody mean reads this... much...

Otherwise, they might take offense to this picture and feel the need to bash a pregnant woman.

Fuck it, it makes me laugh.

Monday, September 12, 2005

Craftmatic Traumatic

There are so many things I love about the onset of autumn. One of those things is good old fashioned Pennsylvanian arts and craft fall festivals. There are at least 2 big ones that my mom and I go to every year.

Here’s the thing: they involve a LOT of walking.

Saturday I thought it would be a good idea to get up and do my new pregnancy workout entitled “The Perfect Pregnancy Workout.” Seriously, that’s what it’s called. I read all the good reviews everywhere and decided I needed it. So I did it. Within the first 3 minutes I was dripping with sweat. The thing about me is that I sweat a lot for a girl. I sweat even more now that I’m slowly doubling in size. By the time I finished the 40 excruciating minutes of this workout, I was drenched in sweat.

Fast forward to Sunday morning, the day my mom and I had planned to go to the Saxonburg Arts Festival.

I woke up feeling somewhat sore. My legs, my arms. For some reason my second toe on my left foot has been hurting, so it makes it hard to walk normally. I thought, “I can do this. This will be good training for me. Endurance! Yes!” So off we went. The day went fairly well. We walked around, looking at all there was to see, making purchases, and sweating. It was at least 80 degrees and very sunny. Upon making our way back towards the family truckster (read: mini van), we decided to stop and check out an antique shop. It was unairconditioned and crammed full of people. I immediately started feeling kind of sick. We decided it was time to go.

After the hike back to the car, in which I carried one little bag and my mom carried a box with 4 potted mums, 3 jar candles, 2 jars of pepper onion relish, and her purse, we plopped down in the family truckster, both moaning in pain. My mom is 62, and she carried all that shit for me, so she had every right to moan. I FELT like I was 62. My legs were on fire from walking, sweat was trickling down my face, and my feet were swelling.

We were there for 2 and half hours. And I still feel like someone beat me with a bat today.


October 7th is Farmer and Crafter Day in Clarion for the Autumn Leaf Festival (ALF, you may remember from last year). They shut down the entire town that day and Main Street is lined with vendors as far as the naked eye can see. It starts at 8 in the morning and goes until 5. We usually go between 10 and 11 and are there walking around, looking at everything until almost 5. I have a feeling I’m not going to make it that long this year. Just like I won’t make it to the bar for happy hour after the parade on Saturday. It’s going to be a weird ALF year for me, since I won’t really be with any of my friends. They, being the young, single, un-pregnant people that they are, will be out drinking and having fun, much like I used to do every single year during ALF. As I said in one of last year’s posts about ALF, my favorite parts of the weekend are 1. Farmer and Crafter Day and 2. getting shitty drunk. But for me, it has always mostly been about getting shitty drunk. I can recall waking up to meet my mom for Farmer and Crafter Day and having to puke beforehand just so I felt somewhat normal. Then I’d chug a big 7-11 cappuccino and be good to go for the day.

I’ve come to the sudden, scary revelation that my ALFs will never be the same. And I didn’t even get to say goodbye. Sure, I might get to go to the bar in the future while my parents babysit for us at camp, but I’ll always have a little being in the back of my mind, wondering how he or she is doing, feeling anticipation on getting back to mommyhood. Because I don’t think I can go back to my old life ever again. There’s more to lose now.

I suppose I’ll make my peace with that. And I certainly won’t miss spending a shitload of money at the bar. Whoop!

Damn, I just realized that I forgot to buy my extra large bag of kettle corn yesterday. Kettle corn solves all problems. And I could have carried it by myself.

Friday, September 09, 2005

Under Fire


Brownie, you're doing a heck of a job.

If that job is PR. But PR doesn't save people.

And that's all I have to say about that.

Thursday, September 08, 2005

Busy Bee

I’m experiencing a new phenomenon that I haven’t felt since February, about my last week at Target. It’s called “being busy at work.” Our graphic designer recently left, and since the company I work for is teeny tiny, they didn’t bother to begin with interviews until today. Since I have a background in graphics, I’ve been spending my days making beautiful and illustrious images of file folders and custom indexing. Which really isn’t as bad as I thought it would be. Now that I’m kind of in the swing of things, it’s actually nice to pass my time actually doing something. It’s better yet to feel like I’ve accomplished something at the end of the day. I got a nice pat on the back this morning for all my hard work in the past couple of days, so that was reassuring.

I have 7 more weeks of work left until my maternity leave starts, and I’m so looking forward to it. My last day is October 28th, and before you ask, my due date is November 10th. I know the chances of me actually delivering on my due date are slim, and as a first time mom I’ll probably be late, so having a couple weeks to myself will be nice.

Fuzzball is proving to be just as busy as I am today. Looking down at my belly, which is kind of propped up against my desk for lack of better space, I’m seeing and feeling lots of stuff going on in there. It’s probably hard to get comfortable in such a tiny space once you reach 15 or so inches and 3-4 pounds. Soon I know I won’t feel these crazy movements, because time is moving quickly and soon Fuzzball will be totally out of room to flop around, so I’ll continue to be amazed every single day at what’s going on in there. Because I know I’ll miss it once it’s gone.

Tuesday, September 06, 2005


As much as I love long weekends, they always leave me feeling drained and completely useless, and this weekend was no exception. Today I’m fighting the urge to lean back in my chair and close my eyes.

I’ve entered the phase of my pregnancy in which I’m ready for it to all be over. I can’t deal with people anymore, and I can’t deal with their stupid questions, like, “when are you due?” and even worse, “do you know what you’re having?” Having to answer these questions repeatedly makes me want to strangle the next unsuspecting person to open their mouths in my general direction.

And let me tell you, my wrath is not something you want coming at you full force. My brother felt it this weekend when I unleashed the hell beast that is inside of me upon him. It rained down fire and brimstone and death and all that not so pretty stuff as I repeatedly screamed the f word for my entire family to hear at 2am Saturday morning. My first true hormonal psychotic episode followed. I’ve had a lot of moments in the past 7 months when I sink into despair and cry my eyes out, but I’m always able to calm myself down. Saturday night I was not able to calm myself. Ryan couldn’t calm me down, not even with all of our Lamaze breathing and relaxation techniques. I cried for 2 and a half hours non-stop, and I can’t even tell you why. I think I was delirious from being at camp, being up so late, being surrounded by (drunken) family and friends, and every little thing was eating away at my last nerve until I finally snapped. Needless to say, I’m not speaking to my brother, and as stupid as I feel about completely snapping, I also feel somewhat justified. I’m fucking pregnant and I don’t need stress from other people, and the moment that they stress me out, I’m going to tell them about it. Even if the telling involves me screaming out into the night “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING????” because my brother drunkenly threw a chair into the campfire. Seems silly, I know, but I don’t need it. If I could have physically beat people, I would have. Instead my brain turned off and I became a complete emotional mess.

I’m still a little embarrassed about the whole thing, but I’m pretty sure that I made it very clear that you don’t fuck with the E-Lo.

The best conversation of the weekend (with a 10 year old female relative of mine):
10 year old: I can’t believe Rosie had four puppies! And she’s so little!
Me: I know. But you should have seen her before. She looked like a little ball with legs. She was huge!
10 year old: SHE was??? Look at you! Look at your belly!!! And you know what else? Your butt is huge too!
Me: sigh. Yeah, I know.
10 year old: But don’t worry, once you have your baby you’ll shrink down and you’ll be pretty again.

Kids always tell the truth. That’s why they say “kids are cruel.” Of course, I don’t know what my uncles excuse was when he told me that it looked like I’d have my kid sooner than November since I was getting so fat.

I think my nervous breakdown was warranted. Only 9 more weeks left.

Friday, September 02, 2005

The Perks of Motherhood

Because I don't like to waddle any further than I have to.

Have a great Labor Day weekend. I'll be back on Tuesday. Feel free to continue the episotomy/Lamaze/vagina/porno discussion from down below.

Thursday, September 01, 2005

How loose is your pelvis?

Last night was Lamaze class. For the first time ever, I saw exactly what it looks like when a baby comes out of your vagina. And let me tell you, quite honestly, it’s NOT pretty. It’s pretty disgusting actually. It seems so strange that something so small (the vaginal opening) can stretch to expel an entire, albeit tiny, human being. We watched this happen 3 different times to 3 different women, all of whom had their babies roughly about the time I was born, you know, in the 70's. It was kind of like watching 70’s porn. The women were less than attractive, with wingy hair, and their husbands were fugly and balding, asking them, “Is that ok? Is that good?” as they rubbed their woman’s shoulders and fanned their faces. The women moaned and screamed and suddenly boom! There was the close up of their extremely hairy vaginas bursting with life. Oh, AND there were shower scenes and boobs. Why didn’t these women wear clothes during delivery! Nobody is filming my naked ass when I’m doing this!

We even got to see the delivery of the placenta afterward. Gag.

While this porno/educational video was being shown, I turned my entire body away from Ryan, because I knew if I met his eyes I wouldn’t be able to hold in my laughter. That’s right. I’m 28 and seeing vaginas on screen makes me giggle. What makes me giggle even more than that is imagining my husband’s face as he watched this. After the first video our instructor talked to us a bit about what happened (a BABY came out of her VAGINA) and I met Ryan’s eyes for the first time. He looked like someone had stapled his balls to the chair he was sitting in.

Oh, but it gets worse. As much as I actually LIKE Lamaze class, last night was one of the weirdest nights yet. After the pornos/educational videos we talked about positions that are comfortable during labor and the importance of movement. So our instructor, who is a retired R.N., make us get up and form a conga line whilst she RAPPED a song about “Keep moving! Keep moving!” I’ve never witnessed a more embarrassing moment in my ENTIRE LIFE. I giggled like a 3rd grader the entire time and my face was beet red as my class, my husband, and I conga-ed our way around the room.

And you thought it couldn’t get any worse? You’re WRONG, my friend. Shortly after the conga fiasco, our instructor pulled out this rubber woman she called Tilly. When I say woman, I mean a rubber amputee with a torso and a GIANT GAPING VAGINA. She proceeded to show us what it looks like when the doctor has to use a vacuum extractor to get the baby out (and yes, Tilly had a baby in there that our instructor vacuumed out of her), then she demonstrated using forceps, and then she showed us how the doctor might do an episiotomy.

Pretty bad, right? Oh, we haven’t even gotten to the worst part yet.

Tilly then was subjected to having her perineum massaged by our instructor. You know, that part between your vaginal opening and your asshole? Yeah. That’s the one. It seems that doing this stretches out the muscle and tissues down there that typically tear or are subject to episiotomy. This lessens the chance of either happening. Yes. My little old lady instructor stuck her thumbs in Tilly’s giant vagina and showed us how to massage our OWN perineal areas. She advised us NOT to use Crisco to do this though! Vitamin E oil or even olive oil works fantastically!

I’ll never be able to massage my own perineal area without seeing that woman massaging poor Tilly in front of the entire class.

Lord help me.

(and for those of you as upset about our governments reaction to Hurricane Katrina, here's a post from Daily Kos that you'll probably like that my friend Greg linked me to)