July 30, 2011

Poop, Poo, Doodies

When I was younger and still very awkward, I used to talk about poo because I thought it was funny. You know like the friends episode where Chandler thinks duties is funny. That was me. "He said doodies" snicker, laugh, snort. I was not much of a lady then. I'm not so sure I'm much of one now, but I have more 'lady-like' moments now. Even though I still think doodies is funny.

Now that I have a child, I find that the majority of conversations my husband and I have are about poo.
"Did she have a poop today?"
"How many times did she poo today?"
"What did it look like?"
"What was the consistency?"
"Was it extra stinky just for you?"
"How many wipes did it take?"
"Did it require a wardrobe change?"

Who knew death could come out of a baby's butt and instill such pain on you, while at the same time producing such laughter from her? She thinks putting us through such agony is hilarious. And so it makes sense now. Doodies is funny from birth. It doesn't stop being funny to you until you have to change exploding, stinky diapers. But at that moment the humor is passed on to the next generation. And so poop will always be funny.

That said it doesn't change the fact that my husband and I don't have much else to talk about. Not that we don't talk about other things. Other topics just don't seem to dominate our conversations anymore. Is that a sign of an old married couple? I suppose. But it sure is fun to talk about poo and especially, for me, if she had an extra stinky poo just for him. It brings joy to my soul to know I am not be the only one changing extra stinky, messy diapers.

July 1, 2011

Who Knew Being a Cop Could be THIS Awkward?!?!

I'm not a cop, but here's an 'interesting' story about some cops that were probably not expecting to have the kind of day they had. To sum it up, a drunk lady (oxymoron), who also happened to be 'producing milk,' decided to whip out a booby and spray the officers that were called to the scene. How awkward is that?!? That's beyond awkward.

The article says she was charged with assault, but wasn't clear if that was related to spraying the officers or the fight she was having with her husband. This is clearly a woman who shouldn't drink if she can't resist the urge to spray people while intoxicated. The equivalent would be a man whipping out his dong and spraying people. Pee, milk...both bodily fluids that you don't want sprayed on you.

I wonder how that goes down....
"Ma'am step out of the car."
psycho nut job steps out of the car, whips out her boob and starts spraying the officers while probably yelling profanities.
whiping faces off..."Ma'am, put your boob away....Ma'am stop spraying us."
more spraying and profanities followed by the take down and cuffing of said psycho nutjob.
Awkward...though I'm not sure who it's most awkward for...the cops or the drunk lady (oxymoron) after she sobers up...

May 30, 2011

What it Feels Like to be a Cow

I don't know if cows have feelings or not. I don't know if they object to being hooked up to automatic milkers or if they couldn't care less one way or another. But since becoming a nursing mother, I've started to ponder this and have a little sympathy for them. Or more for us human females who pump in order to feed our young.

Let me start with the mechanics of the pump. Now I know not all pumps are the same but my particular pump 'moos' the whole time. "mooo, mooo, mooo, mooo, mooo" until I turn it off. You may think I'm exaggerating, unless you have the same pump I do, but my husband moos every time he hears it. Which is usually on the weekends. So why do I have a mooing pump? Well because I'm cheap or thrifty, you pick. I went for the highly rated half priced pump because all I cared about was functionality. I did read that the biggest complaint was that it was loud. No review I ever read said the pump actually sounds like a dying or distressed cow. So that's why I feel a bit like a cow whenever I'm pumping. I sometimes moo right along with it just for fun.
So the primary reason I pump is because I work. So law requires they provide us a non-bathroom place to pump. So the room in my building is connected to one of the bathrooms and also has a door to a hallway leaving the cafeteria. Honestly I don't think there's a whole lot of traffic past the door, but when I'm in there I just assume that everyone near/passing either door can hear the distressed cow and must wonder what in the hell is going on in there. Luckily or unluckily there is a sign on the door broadcasting just what is going on in there. Though that hasn't stopped a few nosy people from giggling the door handle. That's why I double and triple check the locks on both doors every time I go in there. The other day some weird woman who happened to be walking by the other day as I was unlocking to enter asked if she could look inside. What was I supposed to say? "Squeeze out a baby and lactate like the rest of us do if you want to see inside!"
That said it's worth feeling like a cow everyday since my baby and I have figured out a way to make it work for us. Though I wouldn't object to the law stating that the room had to be sound proof. But I won't write my congressman about it. I don't think my mom could have prepared me for this because I'm pretty sure she didn't pump. I believe it's less awkward than whipping it out in public to feed her. Only because I feel strongly that for my baby and me it's a very private and personal thing and I don't want anyone outside of our immediate family (or those I deem ok) seeing, watching, or gawking at us. Though I'm not condemning those that do. I much prefer to have a bottle prepped when possible, or find a reasonably private place for us when she needs to eat. Just like I'm also not condemning those women who feed their babies formula. My doctor was fed formula and she's a doctor and I a loser government worker. So my decision probably isn't making my daughter smarter than the formula fed babies around her. Though I'm sure many will say it is. I'm guessing reading to her and practicing math skills and such will do more for her intelligence.
I think it's silly that I feel the need to clarify that I'm not negatively judging those who make choices differently than me. But that's because I've learned that breastfeeding is such a polarizing topic. (see one of my previous posts). And no matter what your personal choice is someone will have a harsh defensive opinion because they assume your are judging them harshly for choosing differently. I couldn't care less that you chose differently than me. Newsflash I care more about my baby than I care about yours so as long as you don't abuse your baby or leave it in a hot car, I'm happy for you and I won't judge you harshly. This isn't that kind of a post.

April 22, 2011

Is It Weird That I Want to Hang Out with my OBGYN???

You know this is a subject I haven't discussed with my mom. I just assume her OBGYN was a man and since she was in her 20s when she had my brother and me, her OBGYN was probably at least more than 10 years older than her so this thought probably never crossed her mind. So I'm guessing she has not frame of reference and can't relate to this.

I'm in my early 30's and get along with people in excess of 5 years either way of my age. Mostly on the older side of me. I'm not exactly sure how old my OBGYN is, but she is not much older than me assuming she's at least a year or two older than me if not more. What I do know is that she has 2 young kids and if she's over 40, she's looks better than I do.

One might then ask how I picked her. Well I looked for a specific hospital that was about 2 miles from my house, and then I looked at doctors with privileges. Next I looked at their location and pictures. She was the only one that was right next to the hospital or didn't look weird. What!!! Weird looking. Well when looking for a doctor without a recommendation, I want someone who's not fat because a fat doctor consulting you about your health is a hypocrite. I also must have a woman if she is going to see me naked, but she must not look like she might at all enjoy looking at my girl parts. Which is why I can't pick a man. Why not a gay man? Nothing against them but doctors don't post if they prefer lady or men parts in their own sex lives. And if they did, other than posting a picture of their family, I'd be creeped out that they are sharing their sex life with the world. My doctor posted information about her family so she didn't worry me one way or the other. I didn't mind that she looked young because she had good credentials and I figure the fresher they are out of med school, the most up to date information they have. Plus she can't have her own practice and be much younger than me if at all. Unless of course she was a Doogie Howser M.D. Which I'm sure is possible, but not likely.

So maybe it's because she helped suck, pull, yank my sweet baby out of me, but after my 6-week follow up I really felt the desire to be friends with her and hang out with her. I felt like we bonded and really got along. She made me feel like one of her more together patients as she said I was the only one to not call her. And for that matter call her with stupid questions that make me look like an idiot or a tramp. Yes there really are stupid questions.

I'm really sad that I'm down to seeing her once a year now. But I can't hang out with someone who checks out my lady parts either. It's just not natural. I wouldn't even know how to make the transition from patient to friend and find a new doctor. The finding a new doctor part is the easy part. My husband said I could stalk her on facebook. But then that turns me into the creepy patient then doesn't it?

Oh well. I suppose it will have to be left at a fleeting desire. I need to find another friend I suppose. But no one around here is a cool and laid back as she is....I heart you (in not a creepy way) Dr. J!!! Thank you for being so awesome!!! even though you made me cry after breaking my water...that was hormones not you!!!

Ok maybe it's a little weird...

February 18, 2011

Waterboarding Has Nothing on Back Labor

So I'm settling in my my new little one nearly 6 weeks post partum. She was definitely worth about 7 months worth of misery and the pain of labor. Well I don't know if I'd still be saying that without the miracle of epidurals. My mother gave birth without drugs, but she had no frame of reference for what I went through. The only advice she gave me was that she wouldn't advise going without drugs. Which I had no intention of doing.

So let me start by saying I had to be induced. Nothing started happening until my doctor came in and broke my water. The pain started and I got one drug that made me woozy but still very aware. As that started to wear off, I got another drug that my nurse told me I'd probably sleep. She couldn't have been more wrong because as soon as that drug got injected, the contraction kicked in to high gear. Let me just say I don't know what it feels like to have contractions in my belly. It was all in my back and it was excruciating pain. The worst pain I've ever felt and I had a bike accident on a boys' bike that bonked my hootie once. I've never understood why boys' bikes have that cross bar since their genitalia is at greater risk for damage should they bonk themselves.

All that crap they say about relaxing in between contractions, in order to save yourself for delivery, went out the window. There was no downtime to relax. The anesthesiologist couldn't get there fast enough. But when he did, he was my hero.

If the U.S. government wants an effective mechanism by which to get enemies to talk, then they should figure out how to induce back labor pain in anyone without them being pregnant. Then no one can bitch about it being torture since women throughout the world routinely experience this excruciating pain. I'm convinced it would make anyone talk to make it stop. Perhaps I'm just a weeny though. Either way I was greatful for the relief of an epidural. They are a gift from God.

December 1, 2010

Things That Make You Cry When Pregnant

So I had heard your hormones and emotions run wild when you're pregnant, but I just figured it was over the usual stuff that a woman might cry at like movies, the loss of a pet, a sad book etc. My mother never gave me any heads up to the absurdities that will make you cry when they should make you laugh, angry, or cause indifference from you.

I've been pretty even keeled this whole time. I'm not bitchy and don't throw temper tantrums. I might cry at a tear jerking movie, or at a commercial that talks about planning for your future. I'd say that's not too bad. But I wasn't prepared for the random moments that caused set me off in hysterical, sinus draining, crying fits.

1. Road Rage. Several months ago, I witnessed a potentially dangerous episode of road rage between two jackasses about 100 yards in front of me. One probably wasn't paying attention and almost ran into the other but corrected himself. The other decided to get aggressive which lead to 2 pissy, pitch fittin drivers acting like dumbasses. Luckily I was far enough behind them to avoid running into this disaster, and when I saw them pull over as if they were going to lay the smack down on each other, I was relieved I was at my exit and continued on.

Normally this would just piss me off and I would be cussing their idiocy. But instead I freaked out and started crying hysterically the rest of the way home. I could not stop crying and blabbering at what jerks they were to put me and others around them in danger by acting like fools. How in the hell could they NOT know that a pregnant woman was a mere 100 yards behind them? Insensitive bastards!!!

2. Puking in Your Lap. Now I know that you're probably thinking this is not such a strange thing to make you cry hysterically even when your not hormonal. But this wasn't my first time to throw up on myself while stuck in the car. Yes I said stuck in the car. While driving down the highway. The first time it happened was about 10 years ago. I got some stomach bug that caused it. But I didn't cry. I stayed rational and logical. I merely contemplated whether or not I should stop at the ER on my way home or not. I knew in my gut it wasn't serious so I continued driving the 20 minutes all the way home.

This time I thought I was well enough past my morning sickness which had been very routine to this point and always at home. It'd been a week and a half since I'd thrown up. Well this one morning I woke up an hour earlier than normal not feeling very well. My stomach was burning and I just generally didn't feel very good. Well I had smoothie for breakfast and went on my way to work. I started not feeling well but being on the highway in the left lane didn't give me many options for pulling over. So I started making my way right. I made it there and just as I was about to pull over... well it was too late. Logically I pulled off and turned around to head back home. Though irrationally emotional, I balled the whole way home which took a good 10-15 min. The difference between this time and 10 years ago, I had someone waiting at home to help me. Ten years ago I got home got out cleaned myself off, took a nap in the tub, got up feeling better and cleaned my car. This time, I didn't have to clean anything but myself, but I still couldn't stop crying about it.

3. Scooping Dog Poo. So this is what convinced me to post on this topic. Today I was cleaning up after my dog in the yard, which was way overdue for cleaning. Now I've got 5 1/2 weeks to go, or less if I'm lucky, so I'm feeling large and not so mobile. Bending over is getting harder and harder so I'm using one hand on the pooper scooper and the load is getting heavy. On top of that, any activity like this now exhausts the hell out of me. I'm half way done and starting the other fence line and suddenly I realize there's a pile I missed that I didn't see when I got there. So I start scooping that up and I keep finding more and more in the same basic area. Initially this is perplexing to me, but I keep scooping before I discover there's a freaking giant hole in the bag. What's going in is now falling out every time I lower to scoop, so I've been rescooping the same poop for the last minute or so. Which is a giant waste of valuable energy.

Under normal circumstances that would have made me laugh, but I was already exhausted from the other side of the yard and the bag was so heavy and there was so much poop to scoop, and to top it off now my bag had a hole in it and I was going to have to get a new bag to finish the job and a new bag just to put the original worthless bag in. Which I might add was going to require more energy to be exerted. So I started crying ridiculously out of frustration. Not cool. Not cool at all. Especially since it makes me feel like I sound overly dramatic. Which is a quality I generally despise, or at least find incredibly annoying. None the less I'm crying like a nut job and my dog is worried enough about me that she keeps checking on me and actually gives me the frisbee to throw to her rather than insisting I chase her for it. It's about time my dog feel sorry for me and play with the frisbee right!!

4. Accidentally Deleting all of the Pictures From the Computer. Pregnant or not, I logically know that it would take a LOT to permanently delete pictures from my computer and that whatever I had done was not likely permanent. However when I went to the recycle bin I could not find them as I expected. So what do I do? The only thing that obviously solves all my problems. I start to cry as I frantically try to find them. When that doesn't work, I call my dad the 'computer expert' crying that I somehow deleted all of our pictures and can't find them anywhere....can you help me????? Of course while I'm on the phone with him I go back to the recycle bin and take a slower look and find them. But they were not as I would have expected to find them. Then of course I get mad at computer technology for deleting my pictures without even selecting them all and hitting the delete button. Stupid technology, what good is it if it takes over and does what you don't want it to do???

5. Crying. Since it's against my personality to cry irrationally, crying in the above described circumstances results in more blathering, snotty, frustrating, crying. I don't really know what else to say about that. It's not very attractive at all, which is why most of the time I try not to cry around my husband. Especially since logic tells me it's stupid to cry about these things and pride tells me it's a sign of weakness. All of that goes out the window, understandably so, when one is growing a baby.

So that's my crying list. I'm sure there are a few more I could add that are not nearly as entertaining. Be warned ladies, if you haven't experienced this, you will find yourself crying over things that seem more ridiculous than spilt milk.

September 14, 2010

The True Meaning of "Pregnancy Glow"

So growing up I heard about this "glow" that you get when your pregnant. I don't recall whether or not it was specifically explained to me as this look of joy and happiness that you get knowing that your offspring is growing inside you, but somehow that is what I always interpreted the meaning to be. I've even gotten the comment a few times myself.

Here's the thing, until recently I've been fighting pretty regular morning sickness either first thing in the morning or in the afternoon/evening. So I didn't feel like joy and happiness was oozing from my face. That leaves one other option which gives a whole new meaning to "glow." My face broke out like I was 12 or 13 all over again. I was humiliated. Then and now. I thought I left 13 back in 1991! Mom did NOT warn me that my face would look this bad. And all the magazines and Internet articles that said your skin never looks better than when your pregnant LIED! Can I sue them for mental anguish or something like that? At least when I'm not pregnant I can treat it with drugs that work. When you're pregnant, they don't let you use the stuff that works so you just have to 'deal' with it and hope it clears up before you die. Even better before you deliver. I'm still waiting, though it's a little better than when it was at it's worst.

I ooze oil when my face is out of control despite the assistance of makeup. I have so much oil on my face, BP needs to dispatch a clean up crew to help. (sorry for the lame joke...not really!) So I assume any "glow" that I had or even still have at times is due to the light reflecting off of the oil field on my forehead. That's the only possible explanation I have for anytime I glow since I can't bring myself to utter the words "I've never felt better in my life" to describe being pregnant. That would be a big fat lie coming from my mouth.

So there you have it...Pregnancy Glow is a polite way of saying 'how old are you? 13?!?!' or 'your skin is terrifying! But I can't look away!' or 'Thank God my skin doesn't look as bad as yours!!' I'm sure I could go on and on, but you get the point. Pregnancy Glow, no matter how well-intentioned, is not a compliment. Unless you're one of the lucky few that not only didn't get sick but never had better skin in your whole life.