A Reminder...

I was thinking about a paper I wrote in 12 grade about "where I wanted to be in 10 years". Obviously, ten years has come and gone,  and getting closer and closer to "where do I want to be in 20 years?"

"In ten years" I wanted to have a singing career. I don't. I barely have a voice. (Although the botox shots in my vocal cords have helpd SO much, I will write about it soon)

Instead of a singing career, I have a beautiful home. A handsome husband who is a wonderful father. I can eat whatever I want and stay 100lbs.  I am starting (what seems like) a fun new job,  and getting a nice pay increase. I am going to Cancun for Christmas. And I have my sweet, adorable, funny, beautiful Georgia.  I love my inlaws, I have the relationship with my Dad that I always wanted, my family lives close to me, and getting up in the morning never sucks.

This isn't what I pictured. But it is a good picture. And I have to keep reminding myself when I want more, that I already have so much to be thankful for.

Ommmmmm....never mind!

Um okay, does this look obnoxious?



It's on the little table right when you first walk in to our living room. Chris says he is embarrassed to have a picture of "just him" and thinks it looks, um, obnoxious-which is why I ask. I don't think he minds THAT much because he only made one funny (half joking) comment, and I haven't heard anything else regarding the photos, but I'm curious as to what everyone else thinks.

First you should know that I have four other wedding portraits in the living room.  One 8x10, one on ginormo canvas (I forget the size), and a 5x7 and 4x5 on our mantel plus these two individual 5x7's. I have two more 5x7's I want to hang up, and I've also framed our invitation. Is this overkill? Not to mention, my wedding album is on display in my dining room for anyone who is forced asks to look at it. 

I loved our wedding so much. I loved every detail, every moment.  I had the BEST, most fun day ever. So looking at my photos makes me happy. It's my house-so I can put up whatever pictures I want, but at the same time, I feel like I'm a few steps away from weirdoville.

I know my wedding was only a year ago, so it's still fresh, but I am wondering, do you guys have wedding photos all up in your house?

Anywho, moving on.

I was just reading about some Victoria  Secret Model who just had a baby, and she is still nursing and pumping for her 9 month baby, blah blah blah she is so awesome.

Okay. She does like one photo shoot for 3 hours a day or something and get paid twenty zillion dollars, and I'm supposed to commend her for still nursing? (FYI, before we go any further, no one is actually asking me to commend her. I am just defensive because I had to go back to work and couldn't swing nursing/pumping...so somehow I am going to make this the fault of a Victoria Secrete Model). I work 40 hours a week! Bite Me!

Ahem. Where was I? Oh yes. Miranda Kerr. Fuck you and your breastfeeding pictures. You have a nanny, and a butler, you are married to Orlando Bloom-who is way hotter than UGGS spokesman Tom Brady ( take that Giselle!) and you still get to nurse your baby. I hate you. I hope your boobs sag to your knees when you stop breastfeeding.

Haha. Rant over. Actually I don't care, but I really was annoyed for half a second until I remembered my policy of not being jealous of people who have lives that are 100% unattainable. I will never be a Victoria's Secret Model. I never could have been one, so there is no point in being jealous. 

I'm like, jealous of my neighbor with really nice hair who goes to yoga every night after work. She always has on the cutest workout outfits, and walks all around the neighborhood with her pink yoga mat. She probably eats organic every night, she probably doesn't drink, I'm sure she does not have pubic hair, and I bet she has never drooled over D&G sunglasses because labels and material items don't matter to you when you do yoga because you are so self satisfied.  Bitch.

See, I could do yoga every night maybe if I got my shizz together, but instead I'm obsessed with hanging airbrushed pictures of myself around the house.

I think if you do yoga, you also look airbrushed.

Not so Fashion Forward

Remember how I told you I was feeling a little BLAH in the fashion department? Lots of slacks and blouses have been gracing my frame these days. Today as I was getting ready for work, I decided to wear something that I've neglected for whatever reason. I pull out a little dress that I don't think has EVER seen the light of day. I'm pretty sure I have never worn it.

It's a summer dress, but can be (as you see) "winterized" with the right accessories. The actual problem with the dress is that it needs a belt around the waist-but I can't find anything that doesn't look stupid.  I covered up the minor flaw with a sweater, and I think it looks cute. Here are the deetz:

Dress: LOFT

Sweater: Express

Shoes: Jessica Simpson

Tights: Guess

Bag: Express

Necklace: LOFT

Earrings: Anthropologie

Bracelet: H&M

Ring-J-Crew

Sunglasses: Wet Seal (OMG I know-they were only $2) AND I am wearing glasses in this picture because I did not have any make up on yet. I should have at least thrown on lipstick but whateves.

So I go into work, proud of my fashion accomplishment today. I think I look back to my old fun, funky- not -mom self. There is a spring in my step, and a bounce in my bootie. I'm prancing around the office in my heels, feeling like a million bucks.

All of a sudden, at 10AM on the dot, in walks a coworker of mine. She looks like a supermodel. She has hair to DIE for. She is always dressed to the nines.  I stupidly think we are in the same league fashion-wise. Naive little thing that I am, I'm all  Yeah, two fashionable chicks, talking fashion, I am so cool again.  I proceed to gush:

"I LOVE your dress!"

"Thank you. It's Gieanchy."

Um...I have no idea who the fuck that is, but I smile and nod and pretend I have TONS of Gieanchy pieces casually hanging in my closet.  I try to recover.

"Ahem, and I adore you belt. It totally makes the outfit." 

ADORE? Did I really just say ADORE?? Not to mention I'm totally jealous, because this belt would look PERFECT with my outfit.

"Isn't it beautiful? It's vintage, and I mean VINTAGE Donna Karan. It would look beautiful with your dress."

I want so badly to say "YES! IT IS THE BELT I AM LOOKING FOR! I REALLY ACTUALLY WANTED TO WEAR MY VINTAGE DONNA KARAN CORSET BELT TODAY, BUT...UM..MINE IS IN THE WASH!"

I'm so fashionably defeated. Donna Karan vs Jessica Simpson? There is no contest. She is Lady Gaga, and I am Ke$ha. My day of fashion has been ruined by the  office Carrie Bradshaw.

I am the office Barrie Cadshaw.

I sit there in my little LOFT dress, smile, and decide not to ask her about her shoes.

Anthropologie-how do i love thee. But not your price tags.

It has been brought to my attention (er...by...myself) that my wardrobe is really boring. Well, not necessarily BORING, but well, yes-kind of boring. I've turned secretary chic-lots of pencil skirts, slacks, blouses.  I was just looking in my closet for the 400th time to see if anything new appeared, and most of my more recent purchases are really basic-which is good because they will last for 10 years and always be in style. I got tired of spending money on things that are SO trendy that they go out of style the next year and I can't wear them, so I've been going on a crusade to shop for "the basics" . But now I feel like I've gone too far on to the other side, and I need to add a little flair.

I bought an AWESOME top and dress from Anthropologie. Both were originally priced over $200. The sweater I got for $39.99 ( actually the original price was $298) and the dress $49.99 ($227 originally priced)

 I rule! I will post pics later so you can see my purchases.

So anyway I started an Anthropologie wish list-I have a "HOME" wish list at Anthro, and every time one of my wishes goes on sale- I buy it, so I think I'll do the same with the clothes. They are just too expensive for me to pay full price for-but you really can't find clothes anywhere else like Anthropologie AND it will bring my wardrobe back out of the doldrums.

LOOK AT THESE! AHHHH!



Adorable! I will wait with bated breath for these items to go on sale just in time for 100 degree weather!

Screw You Guys, I'm Going Home

So before Georgia was born, I was 100% sure that I was going to get her ears pierced before she was a year old. I was TOTALLY sure. If not only for the fact that I think babies with pierced ears look cute, but also because I couldn't stand people who said things like, "When she is old enough to CHOOOOOOSE earrings, I will get her ears pierced." As if our babies have any choice in anything we are doing to them at this age.

"Excuse me baby, would you rather wear this pink Barbie getup that screams 'PAGENT!' or this non-descript green outfit that screams,  'I AM TRYING VERY HARD TO MAKE MY BABY GIRL LOOK LIKE I AM NOT TRYING HARD.' "

Your baby can't pick the outfit at this point. You are picking it for her. You are choosing to either make her wear pink, or green. See? One is not better than the other.

This was my beef with the whole "she will choose to pierce her ears" argument.  Babies can't choose anything. A mother is still choosing for her NOT to pierce her ears. Duh. Now if I heard something like, "I don't think it's appropriate for babies to have their ears pierced" well, I could get down with that. It makes sense. It is the mother's opinion, as are all facets of baby fashion. So waiting until "she can choose to pierce her hears" has always sounded dumb to me.  That particular argument made me want to pierce Georgia's ears ...like, as some kind of hair flip, flip the bird, flippity doo da or whatever to people who don't agree with me on this subject. Baby with her ears pierced ! HA! TAKE THAT!

And now? Now that Georgia is a real, live, person.Now that Georgia is 7 months old? Do I still want to pierce her ears? DO I???!!!! WHAT DO I WANT TO DO REGARDING THIS VERY IMPORTANT DECISION THAT WILL CHANGE MY DAUGHTER'S FUTURE FOREVER?????

 I want to wait until she can decide for herself.  Well I'll be damned! Put that in your pipe and smoke it TT!

Is there anybody out there...?

Soooo, it's been about 2 months since I've written anything. I keep THINKING about writing, but turning on the computer and trying to get my thoughts together (after work) just seems like the BIGGEST chore ever. I would rather clean my bathroom.

I've been feeling kind of funky for a while, and writing seemed  too hard. I didn't know what I wanted to write about. I've been having anxiety attacks left and right, waking up in a cold sweat thinking someone was going to break in and steal Georgia, thinking ridiculous thoughts like a car was going to fly up onto the sidewalk and hit the stroller and Georgia and I would go flying in the air.  I am rational enough to know that these things were most likely not going to happen. Regardless, the crazy part of my brain was winning a battle with the rational part, and it was exhausting. 

I was losing focus. I felt very disconnected at work and at home-kind of like I was a ghost just floating through life. Yes, I smiled and did my best 'Miss America" wave for everyone, but people were starting to notice and I was tired of thinking about stupid things like how I would save Georgia if  the earth spun out of orbit.  I made an appointment with a therapist who specializes in post partum anxiety, and I started taking St. John's Wort-you know-to promote mental health.

So it's been a month and I feel MUCH better. The waking up at night has stopped, the weird thoughts are few and far between, I think I look better (Although that might be due to the fact that I splurged and bout a bunch of clinique skin care products. I was lookin' bad yall) It's really great to be able to sit in a room and talk about yourself for an hour without worrying how bored the other person is. The therapist is getting paid to hear me talk! It doesn't matter! I can talk about whatever the hell I want and she has to listen! I recommend therapy for everyone.

So, that is where I am right now in  life, and why I've been too exhausted to write. I know you are all on the edge. of. your. seats. waiting to hear about the results of the botox on my vocal cords-so I'll post about that journey soon and I have LOTS to say about what's going on in baby world. AND I'm still trying to get the energy together to makes some changes to my blog ,so hopefully now that I am a mentally stable woman I can focus on that too!

I will talk to you soon!

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With songs they have sung

So on September 2nd I am going to get a botox injection in my vocal cords. I've been (finally or not finally) diagnosed with spasmodic dysphonia, and botox is the only procedure used to treat this voice disorder. Before finding this out I have had two cysts removed, a blood vessel hemmorhage lasered off, and another nodule removed that would not go away with voice rest and therapy, and an injection to make them vibrate properly because one side was paralyzed. All of this was done starting in 2005 ending in 2007  under anesthesia in outpatient procedures. It took  a few years for the swelling to go down. 6 years later-my vocal cords look as good as new! There is nothing on them, my new doctor said you can't even tell I've had surgery-let alone three!

So why can't I sing? Why can't I speak properly? I've been told that it's mental, that I just need to get out there and do it, that I'm being a baby, that "who cares you aren't a professional singer anyway".  I've tried yoga, meditation, acupuncture, voice rest, voice therapy, singing therapy, singing lessons, Alexandar Technique classes, Fitzmaurice voice technique classes...I have spent THOUSANDS of dollars trying to fix my voice. It's been totally mentally exhausting. Sometimes I want to give up. Sometimes I just want to forget I ever loved music. Sometimes I want to hate music for breaking my heart.

But then! 

All of a sudden, I will hear a song that I want to sing.  A fire lights inside of me and I'm like " I DO NOT ACCEPT THIS!" I do not accept that I will not sing again. 

I know I will never have a career in music. That dream is smashed. It sucks to have a dream smashed. We all have dreams. Especially musicians. Even when they are 70 years old they probably still dream of thousands of people loving their song that they wrote 50 years ago. They still dream of being able to make a living doing what they love.  Dreams get us through the monotony of life. Because I lost my voice, I can't have my dream. I know it is not possible to be a professional singer without a working voice.

Dream. Smashed. Move. On.

In spite of this, I still want my regular voice back. I want to sing to my daughter. That's all I want.

I don't know if the onset of the dysphonia happened when I was 24 years old, and that is what caused the cysts and hemorrhages, or if having so much vocal stress FROM the surgeries caused the dysphonia to onset. I guess I will never know really. I do know that I've read a lot of literature about it, and everyone says that their regular voice has come back three weeks after the botox injection.

Spasmodic Dysphonia is a movement disorder of the vocal cords. My vocal cords spasm involuntarily, causing skips, breaks, hoarseness, and a strangled sound in my voice. I have trouble talking on the phone, I have trouble with word pronunciation, sometimes I get so worked up about speaking, that I lose the ability to speak. Botox freezes the nerve that causes the spasm.

So, I am seeing a new doctor. I do not need to see the world renowned voice  surgeon that I've been seeing for the past 5 years. Botox is a pretty standard procedure, and I can go somewhere that my insurance will cover 100%-I don't need to see a singing specialist, I don't need to walk into a waiting room and see crying singers who think their careers are over, only see them a month later with smiles as big as the world on their faces when they are told they are as good as new. It makes my stomach hurt that I am never one of those people-and I won't be ever because there is no cure for this disorder. But I do have hope. I am told my voice will resolve and that resolution most likely includes my singing voice. I will have to get the shots four times a year. I can handle that. The speech therapy is also working-I did get through two songs the day I had the hour-long therapy session. My voice is still "there".  I can hear it sometimes.

I can tell it's there.I can hope. I can wish, wish, wish.

I'm a Barbie Girl, in a Barbie World

So. I did not get the Bright Start Activity Jumper Pretty in Pink , or the Fisher Price Rainforest Jumperoo for Georgia. Nooosireeebob. As soon as I got to the "jumperoo section" of Target, I was all of a sudden in some kind of  weird mommy-mode. Think of Frankenstein. Or Mr. Hyde.  I twitched three times, and all of a sudden I was like 'MUST...FIND...BIGGEST... JUMPEROO, WHAT-IF-HER-NON-EXISTANT-BABY-FRIENDS-COME-OVER-AND-LAUGH-AT-THE-LITTLE-PINK-JUMPEROO? MUST...GET....BIGGEST....ONE. 

Yeah, super gay. But anyway we picked the baby Einstein Musical Motion Activity Jumper. Not the most expensive one or anything. It was around $90, but it seriously looked like the most fun out of all the jumperoos! OMG-am I really having this conversation with you?  Ugh. Yeah, anyway it was straight out of babies-on-acid or something (does that make me sound cooler?). It was so craaaazy looking. I quickly got over the decor issues, and decided that this was the perfect one for Miss Thang.  Here is a picture of all of my baby shit in my living room. That is my sweet nephew Jules testing out the jumperoo for Georgia.



Please excuse this photo of me. I look horriffic.

AAAAALL that stuff is Georgia's. OMG how did babies SURVIVE in the 70's ( I say 70's because that is when I was born) without this crap?

No wonder I am so mentally messed up. I didn't have a Baby Einstein Musical Motion Activity Jumper! GOD MOM!  You must not love me or something. You probably let me play with knives! Just kidding.I know she didn't let me play with knives. I was barely allowed to touch anything. I know for a fact I wasn't allowed to use those little plastic scissors when I was in kindergarten. We ( Jill and I) were going for our kindergarten orientation or whatever, and the principal was like, "Okay twinnies, you can go play arts and crafts while I talk to your parents."  Jill and I look at the arts and crafts center, look back at the principal and say in stereo, "We're not allowed to play with scissors."

OKAAAAAAY. Losers. We also hated baby dolls because we were jealous of them. We did like regular dolls though. Just not babies. I loved my Annie doll...and my Annie wig. I would seriously wear the big, red Annie afro outside, and sing and shit and try to get the neighborhood kids to be in my musicals. They were all like, "um, no way freak." Humm..and we always liked Barbie.

I really don't have a problem with Barbie. She is fit, and so what if she has a boob job? And really, as a child I never even though twice about her figure when I played with her. I thought she was pretty, her best friend was Teresa, and she had a kid sis named Skipper (whose boobs were NOT big) and a cool pink car. And a horse. And a hott boyfriend.  Seems fun to me!

I know that as a mother to a little girl, it is my responsibility to teach her not to be obsessed with looks, and pink, and shit like that. There are all kinds of articles out these days about how if your daughter likes princesses as a little girl, she is TOTALLY going to be working the poles as a young woman so STAY AWAY FROM PINK!

Here is my thought on this. When somebody starts telling our little boys that they can't like blue, to stop playing football and toy trucks, and to make them go to ballet class instead of soccer-then I'll listen to these stupid people and their hatred for Barbie. But until the  little boy/girl gender  argument is equal...blah...sorry. I have ZERO interest.

There is nothing wrong with being interested in fashion, hair and make up. Do I want that to be Georgia's only source of happiness? No, absolutely not. But I don't find it necessary to cut it out of her life either.  Fashion is fun!  And seriously, Barbie is smart AND fashionable. She is a pediatrician for God's sake! SHE IS HELPING CHILDREN! LOOK!



If  Georgia comes to me one day and says, "Mom, I want to paint my room black, pierce my nose. And oh by the way, this is my new girlfriend, Jane,"  I will buy black paint for her room, and invite Jane over for dinner.  I might tell her  that the nose ring looks stupid, depending on the size and everything, but she can still pierce it if she wants.  I do not expect her to be the most popular-pagent star-with-the-quarterback -boyfriend type of gal.  But also, if she likes Barbie, I am not going to make a big stink about it. I liked Barbie.  And just because you like pink and barbie  and cheerleading doesn't mean you are automatically a vapid bitch.And just because you like fashion doesn't mean you are stupid. I've known some really ugly people who were NOT into fashion at all who were really stupid.  And I've known some really mean girls who played other sports besides cheerleading. And of course, I have known girls who like pink and who are vapid and bitchy.

Spoiled, bratty, bitch, stripper comes in all shapes, dolls, colors, and sports. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

U-G-L-Y, you ain't got no alibi!

So Little G can now roll from her stomach to her back, and then back to her stomach. She is so smart. I am arranging a meeting with the Princeton Admissions Committee as we speak.

Ugh. Okay. I know this makes me sound like a total asshole, and I admit that this is really selfish and snobby... but I can't STAND how tacky and ugly all of the baby gear is. Like, it makes me want to hyperventilate .  Seriiiiiously! I've been avoiding buying a jumperoo or exersaucer because, well, they are SO UGLY! I can't stand looking at them. I hate how they look in people's houses, and specifically, I hate how they are going to look in my house. I have not even looked at one for Georgia because when I see them they make me feel like bugs are crawling all over me or something.  But now our baby doc says she is ready to jump and exercise to her heart's content, so I am going to have to take the plunge.

My living room is already becoming baby central. When I was pregnant I was like, "None of this shit is  going in my beautiful Anthropologie decorated living room!"  Baby toys will not match my beautifully painted walls (colors consisting of "Haunted Melodies" and " Medium Terracotta" )  A pack and play does not belong near my magazine worthy mantel, decorated with faux Pottery Barn flowers, various Lenox ...um...crap, and airbrushed wedding photos of moi-captured forever in  Monique Lhuiller picture frames!

 Joking. Sort of.  But seriously, I like for everything to have a cohesive look. I have really worked hard at styling my house, and the exersaucers that are out there, are just, um, no. They look like rainbow bright took a shot of jager and them vommed all over everything. I was searching and searching yesterday for a nice "neutral" colored exersaucer, but was then schooled by my mommy friends on facebook that " THE BABY LIKES PRIMARY COLORS, DUMBASS!"

Of course this makes sense. I'm sure I am not the only mom who thinks they are ugly, and doesn't want them in their house. Of course there HAD to be a reason that EVERYONE had these ugly pieces of plastic in their living rooms. I guess I am just going to have to get used to the fact that for the next few years, primary colors are it, yo.

I don't mind the stuff that is lying around right now. I've gotten used to it. There is a pack and play (a very nice neutral brown color), her swing which is "sea green" (remember that crayola color?), and her play mat which is light pink, sea green, and a yellow color that reminds me of spring and bunnies and shit.  Her little bouncy chair is a nice light pink, and  her little toys are all mostly white and pink. Okay, I can handle light green and light pink. I can handle the fung shui of my furniture getting  "out of order"  for her swing and chair.  They are nice, calm, colors, and Georgia always looks very peaceful in all of these apparati.

Peaceful or not, I will have to deal with the exersaucer/jumperoo/whateveritis. The two that I find the least offensive  are the Bright Start Activity Jumper Pretty in Pink or the Fisher Price Rainforest Jumperoo .

Which one is uglier?

Shut up already

Okay, so, am I missing the big deal about baby wearing? I didn't realize it was a "thing"  that people who are into "natural" parenting do? Why is baby wearing considered part of natural parenting? And why is there such thing as natural parenting anyway?

I baby wear, I love it and think Georgia loves it to, but can someone explain why other mothers use baby wearing to define their parenting style? It's just a mode of transporting your kid. Just like cloth diapers and disposable diapers are there for your kid to poop in. Why do people make it into a big fucking deal? Blaaaaah. Baby wearing ( wait, I didn't even know it was called this until three months ago) seemed like a great idea to me because I watched my sister Caitlin do it with her three kids. She quietly takes care her babies without all the bells and whistles that some women seem to need around them at all times. LOOOOK I BREASTFEEEEED! NOOO DON"T LOOOOK !YOU ARE LOOKING AT ME FUNNY! YOU HATE BREASTFEEDERS!  LOOOK AT ME I CO SLEEEEEP!! LOOOK I'M A BETTER MOM BECAUSE I MAKE MY BABY FOOOOOD! LOOOK HOW ALTERNAMOM I AM BECAUSE MY BABY IS IN A SLIIIING. EVEN THOOOOOUGH EVERYBODY WEARS THEIR BABY IN A SLING.

 It's like certain people NEED everyone to know what the fuck  kind of diaper their kid poops in. They are the most vocal about how they parent AND the most judgmental even though they blab and blab about how they are being judged. But god forbid you whip out a can of formula. They remind me of hipsters. And whatever, I am going to try to make Georgia's baby food, so I'm not against making baby food or anything. And I'm not against any of these things. But like, SHUT UP about it. Nobody cares where your baby sleeps!

Have a great day everyone!

So they all rolled over and one fell out..

(This was published 6/21/2011 but written on 6/17/11)

Georgia ROLLED OVER! I can't believe it. Not in the "I'm -crying -I -cant -believe -my- baby -did- it" can't believe it. But the "holy- shit- why- is -this- going- so- fast" can't believe it. Rolling over wasn't even on my radar, and Wednesday morning I walked in her room and she's on her tummy, pushed up on her elbows, little head wobbling and looking right at me. My Aunt Pat (her nanny) said she was rolling all over the place that afternoon, and now she just won't quit.

I took the bumpers off of her crib, bought breathable ones, removed all blankets and crib friends from her crib, and for the past two nights I've gotten up about 7 times to fix her, because when she rolls over she gets stuck and can't figure out how to fix herself, and she does this pathetic little whimper. "MOMMY IS COMING MY LITTLE DARLING!!!" God, I love her.

Chris, of course, sleeps right through it. In fact, this morning he was like "Wow, she slept great last night!" Uh....no...I was up like 7TIMES MAKING SURE SHE WASN"T SUFFICATING! blah. I'm terrified of suffocation. Terrified of SIDS. Terrified of choking when we start solids. I don't know how people get through this.

So anyway, I'm at work today and I start to feel a dampness on my boob and I realize  that I forget to put on my boob pads! When you nurse, your boobs leak, hence the boob pads. I've been wearing them since Georgia came home. And I've also been wearing these fugly nursing bras because the cup is so thick, and you can't see the pad through it. It's soo annoying. Also annoying is when I came home from the hospital my boobs were about a C cup, and now they are down to a big A, small B depending on the bra, so the nursing bras are too big. I'm so tired of my body changing. I just want it to NOT DO ANYTHING!  Yes, I know I have to stop nursing if I want this to happen. I guess it isn't that bad.  Really, nothing is as bad as the huge ice pack pads you have to wear on your crotch after you give birth. I mean, that was the WORST. I wore the ice pads for about a week, and then had to wear these giant diaper pads for like a month. So in addition to the breast pads, it was a lot of padding, bleeding, and milk leakage. Sorry if this is TMI, but I really didn't know all of this before I had a baby. I feel like someone should have told me! I guess i should have maybe KNOWN, it makes sense, but I wasn't prepared for how much it would suck. So if you haven't had a baby, be prepared for the month after the baby is born to suck. (In regards to the aftermath of birth on your body). Every time I would get in the shower, my boobs would spray milk everywhere, every time I heard a baby cry, they would leak. Actually if I even thought about nursing, they would leak. They have totally calmed down over the past few months-but every once in a while there is milk leakage. That is why I still wear the pads. I can't believe I forgot them this morning. Luckily, my mom is going to go to CVS and get me some so I don't have to walk around like a 13 year old with tissues in my bra.

Sooo...oh-my first wedding anniversary is this weekend! CRAAAAZY-what a year! I feel like I haven't seen Chris in MONTHS-even though we  are married. It's just everything we do, we do for Georgia. We do nothing  for ourselves, we have not been out alone since she came home, and sometimes I just basically feel like we are roommates taking care of a baby. Sometimes I feel guilty because I don't pay enough attention to  him-not that he has said anything at all about it. Maybe he feels guilty for not paying attention to me. I don't know-we haven't really talked about it. I'm not mad or anything. It's just that Georgia is the main focus right now. She is an infant, and we have to be at her beck and call for now. Honestly, having a little child is so much work ,that I really haven't had time to reflect on my first year of marriage. I was pregnant as soon as we came home from our honeymoon. It's been baby, baby, baby, ever since. I think we are a good team, and right now our main focus is our little lady. When I DO have some down time, I just want to go to sleep. I know this totally sounds shitty, and if you don't have kids and you love your significant other, I'm probably not convincing you that kids are the way to go. Well, I'm not really trying to do that anyway. If you don't want kids, don't have them because it is HARD. But I can say, that I don't mind all the work, because when she smiles at me it doesn't even matter. That sounds SOOOO gay and corny, but it's true.

When I think of true love, I no longer think of romance and soul mates. I think of Georgia. When I hear a love song, I think it's ABOUT Georgia and me....even thought the love part at this point only goes one way. I know she trusts me, and knows who I am, but I don't think she is madly in love with me. Or will ever be madly in love with me. How many of us were ever madly in love with our parents? Uh... I would venture....none of us.  Yes, we love our parents, and we want their approval and to make them proud, but that is different from what I am experiencing with Georgia. I'm sure the love changes as your child changes. I'm pretty sure my parents hated me when I was 16-but right now, I love being in love with her! I don't know. I don't even know what I am talking about. There is just so much fucking LOVE sprouting out my being that I need to write about it. I don't care that I was wide awake at 3AM this morning because I'm checking all of the rolling over action. I don't care that Georgia cried eighty million times for her binky last night. I don't care that I am missing out on fun events because we can't get a babysitter. The only thing I care about is my sweet little Miss Georgia.

Please don't think I've become a total lame-o. Even though  I know I would if I was reading this about someone else. I don't know if the fact that I am totally aware of how annoying I sound makes it any better. Probably not. Anway, before you send me a link to lame.com, I want you to know that I am looking forward to our good friends' wedding tomorrow night. Majojo is babysitting. I'm getting a new dress.  I'm so excited for our friends to get married! It will be our first big night out since...humm...our wedding last year? WOW.

Keeping you abreast of the situation...

So, let's talk nursing. 

First of all, before I got pregnant, I never realized it was such a HOT topic, that is, nursing vs formula feeding. I just thought that people did whatever they wanted in regards to feeding their kid, and went on their merry way without giving a thought as to what OTHER people are doing.  I was wrong.

Natural birth vs epidural, circumcision vs intact penis, cloth diaper vs disposable, binky vs non binky, breast milk vs formula-get in a discussion about anyof these topics with another mother, or mother-to-be and be prepared for WWIII! For some reason, other women REALLY GIVE A SHIT ABOUT WHAT YOU ARE DOING WITH YOUR CHILD! It's so stupid. Ugh, I could go on for days about it.

But anyway, back to nursing. I have heard so many nursing horror stories. Babies not latching, low milk supply, starving babies, sore, bleeding cracked nipples, breast infections, not to mention you are just kind of trapped for the first few months because you are the only source of food that the baby has. It sounded hard, it sounded scary, it sounded like nothing I was interested in. I do have friends who told me that they loved nursing, but the bad (in my mind) outweighed the good and I was ready to formula feed. Be warned: There is a serious campaign out there that says BREAST IS BEST (which is true) and there groups that try make you feel like shit if you decide you want to use formula instead of breast milk...for whatever reason. They are not open minded at all.

Now, there are women out there who are dead set on breastfeeding. They will do whatever it takes, pump 24/7 to get their milk supply going, nipple shields, lactation consultants coming to the house-they will go through hell to get their boobs to work correctly, and while I commend them for their dedication, to me, it wasn't that important. But just know that it is very, very important to some people.When I was in the hospital with Georgia the nurse asked me about my birth plan, and how I was going to feed the baby.

'We are going to formula feed" I said while in labor, wondering why the fuck she was asking me this right now-I knew where the conversation was going.

"Well, you know, breast milk IS the best for mommy and baby. We recommend that you breastfeed at least while you are in the hospital. You should be informed before you make a decision.

"I am informed. I want to formula feed."

"Blahblahblah, bleebleebleeblooblooblooo" was all I heard. I SO did not want to have this conversation.

"Okay fine, I'll give it a whirl." I yawn. I'd been up for HOURS.

"Well, if you want to do it, you have to be 100% committed, it can't be something that you just "try" she says back to me.

UM. WTF? I don't WANT to do it-you are sitting here making me feel like shit, and I'm saying I'll do it so you shut the fuck up.

"Okay, I'll try" I say again. For some reason this seemed like a good answer to her, even though it was the same one I gave her 15 seconds ago. She happily writes in my chart that I now plan to breastfeed.

I was so annoyed. Chris was also really pushing for me to breastfeed, and really, the more people told me I HAD to do it, the more pressure I felt, and the less I wanted to.  I was mad that the nurse was making me feel bad while I was in the middle of labor (which consisted of me playing on facebook and watching TV-how dare she!) Soo anyway, labor and delivery roll around and Georgia is on my stomach looking for a boob. She was rooting like a champ-like she had known how to root her whole entire life! (haha get it-it's a joke)

The nurse gave me the hairy eyeball, so I put her on my boob. Georgia latched right away. She looked at me. I looked at her.

"Huh." I thought to myself. Okaaaaay, absolutely not what I expected.

So when you first have your baby, your milk doesn't come in for a few days. The baby is getting stuff called colostrum. It is VERY good for babies, helps their immune system get strong, helps them with their first poop, contains antibodies, clears bilirubin (or however you spell it), helps their digestive system develop. So anyway-that's the scoop on what baby is getting before the milk comes in if you decide to breastfeed. it is great for them. I knew all of this prior to my decision to FF by the way, I didn't learn this in the hospital. Since she latched so well, I thought to myself 'Well, I'll nurse her so she gets this colostrum business, and then start her on formula when we get home."

I nursed her the entire time I was in the hospital. And let me tell you- in the beginning breastfeeding is HARD even when it's easy. It's really hard, it's emotionally draining, your nipples bleed and crack and hurt. It (to me) wasn't this beautiful natural thing, but I continued to do it because Georgia was having such an easy time with it, and I felt very guilty not doing it, even though I didn't want to.  It's also weird to switch your feelings about your boobs. For the past fifteen years, I've used my boobs to get free drinks. They were there to look hott in shirts, and to be all perky and to make forty fifty year old women jealous. Now they were someone's LIFE SUPPORT. It was just so strange. I felt like a cow. In a way I was almost mad that Georgia latched, because now I felt like I HAD to breastfeed. I wasn't mad at her-I don't know, it was probably a weird hormonal thing I went through because I realize how stupid it sounds, and I knew it sounded stupid while I was thinking it.

My second night in the hospital was crazy. First of all, my body was in PAIN from the birth. That second night I felt like-I don't know, just ragged and beaten. I was in SO much pain,  and so,so sore. Chris had gone home that night to stay with Buckley, and also he had been sleeping on a chair for the past two days, so I wanted him to get some rest before we brought Georgia home. I had been taking ibuprofen, but I asked the nurse for a percocet because the ibuprofen just wasn't cutting it. So I'm all whacked out on the perc, and Georgia was STARVING, STARVING, STARVING. It is hard work being born! I nursed her all night long. I cried all night long. I felt so alone, my body ached and I didn't know if it was normal to hurt that much, or if something was wrong with me.It's so overwhelming. Nobody helps you with anything. Your body goes through this crazy, yet amazing trauma, and they just give you your baby and you are supposed to know what to do. I mean, I guess i instinctively knew what to do, but, I don't know. It was very scary to me. A new baby. My baby.  Anyway, my boobs felt like they were going to fall off. I didn't want to put her in the nursery so I could sleep-I felt like a horrible mother if I did that. So she just nursed, and nursed, and nursed, and I cried, and cried, and cried. At 5AM when the nurse came in to check on me, I asked her to bring me a bottle to feed her. "I'm so exhausted, I just can't do it anymore" I cried to her.

"Let me go get one of the lactation consultants," she says. (They are there at 5AM?) If I had had any strength I would have punched her in the face. Instead I just start sobbing. "Just please just bring me a bottle. I need a rest. You can send the lactation consultant in later in the morning. Please, I just need to rest from this. I don't want to hate breastfeeding, but if I can't get a break, I'm going to hate it."

I guess this made sense to her, so she brings me a bottle of premade formula. Georgia scarfs it down. I am thankful for the break. Next round, I am back to breastfeeding.

I used this method my first month of breastfeeding. Chris would do one formula in the morning at 9AM.It was great because it gave me a physical and mental rest. Basically I was feeding her ALLLL DAAAAAY.  I felt so weird and awkward. I went to a breastfeeding class in my neighborhood,  and all the mom's were like lounging around in overalls with their boobs out, talking about cluster feeding and a bunch of shit that I had no idea what they were saying. The leader of the meeting was a crazy hippie lady and I think if she could have breastfed herself she would have, and they were all just way too into it for me. I didn't want to make breastfeeding my identity. If you do-you should go to this meeting. It just wasn't for me.

Every day I told myself, "I am going to stop tomorrow". Then tomorrow would come, and I would say "Well, I can do it another day"  I did it through the bleeding, sore, nipples, I did it even though my boobs were leaking like niagra falls (it took me a while to find breast pads I liked. For breastfeeding, I recommend every product from "lansinoh" including their breast pads.) I bought nursing bras and tops to make my life easier. I forced myself to try different nursing positions around the house, and not just the most comfortable one. I swear the one bottle of formula a day got me through it. And Georgia liked the formula just as much as she liked my boob. Yes, breast milk is better, but formula isn't bad. And she looked at me EXACTLY the same whether I was breastfeeding or formula feeding. Her cute little eyeballs just stared into mine...now, it IS adorable when she pats and rubs my boob while I'm breastfeeding, but she also pats and rubs the bottle so I'm pretty sure it isn't out of love for her mommy. haha!

So during this time I'm thinking to myself  "What am I going to do about going back to work?" If I don't pump, I am going to have to start weaning my boobs. You can't just stop cold turkey. If your boobs aren't used to going eight hours without breastfeeding, you will pay for it in engorged boobies. Ow. I decided to eliminate one breastfeeding a week, and replace it with the formula, and I bought a little hand pump to pump out just a little extra milk if I was getting engorged during this process. Breastmilk is all about supply and demand. I secretly planned to be  not breastfeeding by the time I went back to work-but didn't tell anyone.

During this time of getting my boobs on a schedule, something weird happened. I started to LIKE nursing. Like honest to goodness "I cant wait to nurse my baby" kind of like. And THEN, I started to LOVE it.  I felt like it was very special. I was still totally fine with giving formula, but all of a sudden breastfeeding wasn't a chore anymore. I wasn't resentful and mad. I didn't care that I was wearing ugly nursing bra's and breast pads. I was just like "whatever!" I could walk around my house while nursing Georgia, I wasn't "chained" to the couch. I was comfortable nursing her outside of the home if I had to (but I usually scheduled events around her feedings so I didn't have to nurse in public. It's just not for me-It has nothing to do with anyone seeing my boob. I can't explain it. If you want to nurse in public you have my support 100%) It was nothing! Nooo problem! 

By the time my maternity leave was up, we were on this schedule:  5Am-nurse, 8AM-bottle, 11Am-bottle, 2PM-bottle, 5PM-nurse, 8PM-nurse,11PM-nurse-sleeps until 5AM nurse, rinse and repeat. Since I've gone back to work that schedule is pretty much almost the same. Sometimes I nurse her in between feedings just for the cuddles. I think my plan is to be (by the end of next month) down to one nursing session a day, and to just keep a trickle of breastmilk going incase she ever gets sick or dehydrated. I don't want her to get too attached to my boob when she starts to realize what it is, and I don't want weaning to be too hard on her, so I think this is the best way to go.

So that is my story about breastfeeding. My opinion on feeding babies is that a happy mommy=happy baby, so do whatever it is that makes you feel happy.  Doing both made me happy. Nursing is really hard. Your baby is loved if you breastfeed or formula feed, and isn't really going to give a shit how you fed her when she was little.  Seriously. I doubt the conversation will even come up between her and her friends. "We can't hang out with her..she was FORMULA fed."

See how dumb that sounds?

Workin' Nine to Five...

11 weeks PP! Go me! I've been doing 8 minute abs, and I seriously did not look like this two weeks ago. I still don't look like I did before I got preggers (obviously) but I think I'm on a roll!

I know it seems stupid for me to want to lose every pound of baby weight, since my pre prego weight was barely 100lbs. I just don't think any girl likes to gain weight, whether she weighs 100lbs or 1000lbs. It sucks to have your body change so much. I'm used to looking a certain way, and I want to get back to that.

I actually don't mind the extra weight-it's just that I still can't fit into a lot of my regular clothes. I never realized how small I was. I mean, I know I was skinny, but um... This weekend I tried on one of my skirts and the zipper BROKE, the back of the skirt ripped, and I am 103lbs right now. WTF?!  And some of my really straight dresses, um..no, not right now. I AM sort of liking my new hips, and I definitely look better in jeans and pants. My boobs, however, are another story. I can probably kiss those cute puppies goodbye due to nursing. They don't look too bad, but what perk was left at 33 years old has left the building. Booo! Now if I can just get rid of the squishy part of my tummy I will be a happy camper! The weight came off MUCH faster than I thought, so I guess I should be thankful for that.

So, I went back to work last week.  I had this vision in my head where I tear up and sniffle while saying goodbye to Georgia, and maybe softly cry to myself a few times during the day, and that would be that. I really thought this is what was going to happen,  so I wasn't dreading returning to work. WOW! I was so WRONG!

First of all, I woke up and I was SHAKING like a crackhead going through withdrawal. I mean, I think maybe I felt like one. I picked Georgia up to change her and started freaking out. "Something is wrong! We have to take her to the hospital! She is sick!" I'm seriously screaming this at Chris, who is looking at me like..well, like he usually does. Like I'm a retard. That's so not PC to say, I know. I'm sorry if I offend anyone. I am really not trying to insult retarded people. Unfortunately that and "gay" are staples in my vocab, even though I love gays and people with disabilities. Just like Lady Gaga. Okay fine, I will change it. He is looking at me like I just said I won a math contest . He's all, "What the hell?"  I'm just standing there at the changing table, crying my eyes out. I hand Georgia to Chris, and I lay down on our bed all curled up in a ball, totally sobbing. I can't even believe I'm acting like this, Chris is trying to calm me down-he brought me a glass of water and rubbed my back and everything. I'm just crying and thinking that the shower seems too far away from Georgia, and I have no idea how I am ever going to get through this day. I asked Chris to bring her downstairs so I could attempt to get ready for work, I mean, I couldn't even LOOK at her without busting into uncontrollable sobs. It was bad, ya'll. Really, really bad.

The weird thing is that I have left her before. One night she had a sleepover with MaJoJo so that I could go out with my friends. I left her at my mom's house. Overnight. It was still hard, but I wasn't crying or anything. I did actually almost cry as we were leaving when my nephew Rocco yelled frantically out the window, " AUNT TT! UNCLE CHRIS! YOU LEFT YOUR BABY GEORGIA HERE!"

Rocco thinks I'm such a horrible mom! I did miss her while I was out, but I didn't have any kind of freak out. I think part of me feels guilty, because I probably COULD stay home, maybe, but I'm not sure that I am cut out to be a stay at home mom. So I can't have my cake and eat it-it's one or the other. Anyway-back to the melodrama.

I couldn't change her, I couldn't kiss her, I couldn't look at her when I walked out the door. I cried all the way to work and for most of the morning. By the afternoon I was doing much better-it was great to see all of my peeps at work, and also to get dressed up and not look like the sweatpants-swamp- monster- from- the- garbage -can. It gets a little easier each day-well, it's not really that easy so I guess I should say I am doing better with leaving each day. I still miss her. I love that little thing so much. This morning I was dreaming I was giving her kisses, and when I woke up I was kissing my pillow! HAHAHA! Wouldn't you dream of kissing this cute little face?
<

Georgia on My Mind

Wow! It's been two months since I birthed the greatest thing that has ever happened to me in my whole entire life! The weeks have flown by, and I am seriously getting the hang of this mom thing. I mean, I don't 100% feel like a mom yet. I still sort of feel like the babysitter actually. And sometimes I look at my little Georgia and I get totally overwhelmed by the fact that..um..she's mine.....FOREVER!  Like, overwhelmed in a bad, full of anxiety way. Not, like, the bursting with love overwhelming feeling. It's just this sort of scary feeling that makes me dizzy and crazy feeling.  Hopefully in the coming months, I will not feel like a mommy imposter. Granted, an imposter who is doing a great job, but still an imposter.

But let's not focus on that. Let's focus on the LOVE!  THE LOVE! Sometimes I get so overwhelmed with love for her that I think to myself, "What have I done?" You can't protect your heart from your baby. It's impossible. My heart is now an open target to be torn out and broken. When you open yourself that much to a person,  when you allow yourself to be that vulnerable to hurt,well, that is true love.  I'm doomed.

 

It also helps that she is an excellent baby. First though, believe me when I say, I was ready for IT ALL! For sleepless nights, uncontrollable screaming, for Chris and me to be fighting nonstop, pots overflowing, curlers in my hair to match ugly pink robe (?), a telephone cord wrapped around my body (not that we have a telephone with a cord, but this was part of my maternity leave nightmare). I thought we were going to be eating microwave popcorn for dinner, I thought I was going to spend all day crying. I was prepared for the worst.

 

"The worst" is not the case at all. First of all, Georgia is a great sleeper. Even when we had to feed her every two hours when she first came home-she just ate and slept. We slept. It was hard, but not too hard. Nursing was working out( I'll post about nursing later). I wasn't prepared for the projectile poo and the amount of diapers that went with it, but it wasn't such a big deal. I managed to conquer the projectile poo with a homemade diaper shield-you just figure it out as  you go! I also took all cues from Georgia and kind of let her guide me. A baby knows what she needs, and will let you know. I fed her on cue and let her sleep on cue. I wasn't too concerned with "a schedule" the first month. Maybe it's not for everyone, but it works for us.

 

I don't really know what the main focus of this particular post is. I'm just saying-life is great! Everything is great. Yes, it's hard. Yes, it's totally different. I am in Georgia's life, she isn't in my life. Everything I do, I now do with her on my mind.  My days of sitting at a bar, carelessly ordering a dirty martini are over. I have to be responsible... because if something happens to me, what happens to Georgia?

 

You know how you have to adjust when you have a dog? Imagine that times like 20 zillion,billion. I've never felt responsible for much. I mean, yes, I pay bills, yes I get up for work, but this responsibility is no match for getting to work at 8AM. It's crazy. But I love it. The big smile at 4AM is so worth it. SOOO worth it.

Georgia's Birth Story

Over the years, I've often thought of having children. Well, not actually physically HAVING them, but like-after having them... when they are out of the womb, and out and about in the world. Usually my thoughts of having children  include some kind of fantasy where I skip over the actual labor and delivery, and magically produce a child from myself without having to go to the hospital or push a person out my lady parts. I was always SURE that I would be able to skip over this part of life- being born.

The one good thing about pregnancy taking 9 months, is that by the time 9 months rolls around, you are so READY to not be pregnant that you (the pregnant elephant) are excited to give birth. I tried everything to induce labor after I passed my due date! I wanted to go to the hospital. I think if pregnancy only took one month, women would still be really freaked out about childbirth. Although, now that I think about it, some people are really down with birthing. They want natural births at home. They want the powerful,awesome experience of ...something. I actually don't know or care about what the natural birth people want. All I know is that to some people-their birth plan is super important, very specific, and the less medication the better. That is not me. I wanted to be in a hospital, drugged to the max, and not able to feel shit.

So anyway. My due date, March 15th comes and goes-I'm trying to remain calm, I'm trying to be nice to Chris who was really awesome throughout the entire process of me dealing with going past my due date. It's really a total mind fuck. You have this date in your head for 9 months and then it comes and goes...what a joke! It's nothing but a mean trick, and I just felt so angry-I mean I wanted to punch things every day. The last few weeks of pregnancy are really hard-well at least for me anyway. I could literally feel Georgia's head in my crotch ready to come out, her kicks were super hard, and I couldn't eat anything without it coming right back up, not to mention the fact that I could barely walk a block without getting all out of breath, and I hated how I looked.Yes-my mental state was pretty bad. I think I held it together rather well though if I do say so myself. I only had one temper tantrum that week. =)
(me at 40 weeks 3 days)

So, we had an induction scheduled for Friday, March 25th which I wasn't too happy about but whatever, least there was an end in sight. I had been having contractions all weekend-even went to labor and delivery once, only to be sent home, and by Monday, March 21st the contractions had stopped and I was really depressed. I went to sleep that night not really hoping for anything and just wishing that Friday would hurry up and come.

At about 11PM I feel water start trickling out of me. I jumped out of bed and stood there thinking " Okay is this pee or is my water breaking?!' I ran to the bathroom and all of a sudden a GUSH of water comes out. Like, somebody should have prepared me for this water breaking thing. I thought it just would gush out for a minute and then stop. Um...no. I went through three pairs of pregnant underwear and three pairs of sweatpants in about 3 minutes before I realized that the water gush wasn't going to stop. Chris was awake at this point,putting my bags in the car, and I'm thinking like how the hell am I going to sit in the car with all of this water coming out of me? I was totally annoyed. The only thing I could do was get some towels and hope it slowed down or something. So we're in the car and the water is flowing, I'm drenching towels, and shaking because all of a sudden this shit is REAL and I'm going to meet my daughter, and OMG I have to push her out of me,and I generally start to have a minor freak out.

We get to the hospital and go in through the emergency room. The ER people want no part of a woman in labor, so they sent me right upstairs to labor and delivery. Actually they wheeled me upstairs, and when I tell you there was a river flowing from the emergency room all the way to the 7th floor I am not kidding. There was water dripping from the wheelchair. It looked like it had just been through a car wash. I looked like I sat in a full bathtub wtih all of my clothes on-it was so mortifying. I figured this was only the beginning of the mortification I was going to have to endure over the next few hours, so I just took a few deep breaths and was relieved when we actually made it to L&D. I still wasn't having contractions at this point, which I thought was weird. The nurse checked my cervix and I was still at 1.5cm which I had been for about three weeks, and I'm still gushing water everywhere-OMG! I was getting so mad. I asked the nurse when did the water stop coming out, and she was like 'It doesn't." I'm really sorry,but how did I not know this about water breakage being so retarded?  Can I stress again that this was absolutely the most annoying part of beginning labor? I was pretty much prepared for everything except that.

Anyway, the nurse came in again an hour later and checked my cervix again-still no change, and told me they were going to induce me because since my water broke there was a risk of infection if the baby did not come out within 24 hours.

In the meantime I called my mom (otherwise known as Ma Jojo) and told her that birth was imminent! I thought that when your water broke the baby was right behind the gush, so I didn't think it would be that long before delivery. Ma Jojo gets there around midnight-I get situated in my room on the delivery floor which I must say was AWESOME. It sort of looked like a hotel room and the view of Philly was sweeet!

I'm chillin in my room and they start me on Pitocen (for the induction) and I finally start having contractions. I can't remember how long after they started the pitocen that the contractions started-but it must have been soon, because my mom predicted that the baby would be born by 6AM. Well, 6AM rolls around and no baby. I wasn't even in that much pain really. I was mostly annoyed at the continuous gush of water coming out of me. My mom had now assigned herself the important job of "vagina cleaner" and was constantly wiping me down, and making sure I was comfortable. Oh- the other annoying thing was that the nurse put the IV in this really awkward place on my arm, and every time I moved this buzzer thing would go off, and she would have to come in and fix it. We finally figured out how to turn the buzzer off-I have no idea if that is legal or not but whatever.

I think I asked for the epidural around 8AMish...I was SO SCARED to get it. I have no idea why, but I started shaking when the anesthesiologist came in. HUP is a teaching hospital, so everyone has as student...including the anesthesia people so they were both there. They sent my mom out of the room, and instructed Chris to sit in front of me and not look at what they were doing. So it must look gross or something.  Getting the epidural kind of feels like getting an electric shock in your leg-it was like BZZZZT and my leg went up and down and that was really the worst of it. I have no idea why I felt electricity in my leg since the line was in my back, but it kinda hurt. It really wasn't as bad as I had anticipated-took about 15 minutes for them to get to my room after I asked for the epi, and about 15 minutes to administer. This would be useful information for later on in my birth story.

After a while I couldn't feel my legs, AND I couldn't feel oh so annoying leakage of amniotic fluid-I was as happy as a clam! Labor is so easy! I laughed at the contractions I saw happening on the contraction screen! MUHAHAHAH! You are no match for THIS epidural you nasty bitches!

Meanwhile, back at the ranch...after almost checking herself in to have a baby, BFF Kelly Downing comes in the delivery room around 10AM. My mom and Chris were exhausted, and it was great to have her in the room with me while they took naps or whatever. She is also one of the funniest people I know, so she kept me in high spirits while laboring. I guess I mostly slept for the next few hours.  Chris, Kel, and my mom ate Mexican while I threw up cranberry juice. The nurse kept coming in to check my (slow) cervical progress, and there really isn't too much to write about regarding the next hours of labor.

So around 2:30PM I start to feel pressure down below . The midwife Michelle had already been in to check my progress and everything-I absolutely LOVED her-she oversaw most of my prenatal care and I was really happy she was on duty for my delivery. She came in and checked me for the second time, said i was at an 8, and they would be back in two hours.

"TWO HOURS?" I'm thinking to myself. I really felt like things were going on downstairs, and I was pretty sure I was going to deliver my baby before two hours were up. Not that I've ever had a baby or anything, but my body just felt really strange and READY.  The other thing that was freaking me out was that all of a sudden I was starting to feel my legs..and...contractions. I was pressing the epidural button thing for more meds to be pumped in, but nothing was happening. I mentioned this to the nurse and she was like, "oh you are going to feel pressure-the epidural doesn't help with that." I'm thinking to myself that I'm feeling waaay more than, pressure, not to mention that I also I felt like I had to take the biggest crap of my life, and I all of a sudden knew everything was ready to go. I looked at my mom and said in a little, scared voice " Um..I have to push or something."  She called for the nurse and yelled in her scary Joann-isn't- playin-voice " SHE'S READY!" and all of a sudden like 500 people come in the room all scrubbed in and official! Well, not really 500 but there were probably like 10 people besides my mom, Kel, and Chris ( as I mentioned before, everyone has a student with them) Earlier a few of the nursing students asked if they could watch and I told them no problem, so they were in the delivery room too.

"Let's have a baby!' someone yelled. I'm finally dilated to a ten, and it is at this point that I realize..."FUCK MY EPIDURAL ISN"T WORKING.'!" I'm feeling the contractions, I was feeling exactly when to push, I was feeling balls to the wall pain like I've never felt in my entire life. I panicked for a minute, but then told myself that there was no point in freaking out-anesthesia would take a half hour to get prepped anyway, and I hoped to be finished by that point so I was just like, " OKAY MAMA, LET'S DO THIS!" My thought drifted to my great-grandmother, Catherine, who had 16 natural child births. I thought to myself "If great grandma Catherine can have 16 kids back in the day, I can have one!"  At some point during all of this organized chaos, someone asked me if I wanted a mirror to see everything and I was like "HELLZ NO!" I guess some people want to watch, but I was too traumatized, as we know I am not one of the natural birthing kind of women so the mirror was out.

I screamed, I panted, I asked for gas to knock me out, I told the midwife that I couldn't do it anymore, I cried,  and I felt like I was being skinned alive while being set on fire. I could also feel Georgia moving down the birth canal, I could feel her crowning, I could feel her wiggling and twisting. I prayed and prayed that she would be safe and healthy and not too scared when she came out. Everyone in the room was cheering for me and telling me I was doing a great job. I think Chris was probably sweating more than I was, but he was right next to me, and totally into it the entire time. He was very scared too, I could tell, but he kept saying and doing everything exactly right. My mom was next to me cheering me on, and Kelly was watching with WIDE eyes, and her hands covering her mouth.

Finally, finally, finally, (after only a half hour of pushing) I felt her head come out, I felt her shoulders come out ( OW!) I  felt Michelle pull her out and all of a sudden there she was laying on my tummy looking for a boob.

I really can't describe the feeling I had when she came out. It was actually like a full bag of emotions was dumped all over me, and I didn't know exactly which emotion to feel because they were all just dripping out of me and around me. I was so happy and relieved she was okay, I was so scared to be a mom, I was shocked that I delivered a baby, I wanted to put her back inside of me because I felt terrible that we had taken her from her home, I wanted to kiss and snuggle her until she was nice and warm and cozy in my arms. I really didn't want to breastfeed but she latched right away and looked like she loved it so I just went with that too.

My whole birth experience was nothing like I planned. I don' really like to get all corny and emotional, but it was really the most amazing thing that has ever happened to me. I know that every mother feels this when she gives birth, and I am thrilled to now be included in that group of women who know how it feels to carry, deliver, and immediately love their child.

I was so proud of Georgia as soon as they put her on my belly. I was proud of me too. I was proud that we went through this unbelievable experience together,  that we helped each other get through it, and proud that she did such a good job and did not let Mommy suffer for too long!

I was just so thankful that she did it!  That we did it-together!

oh baby baby

Well, I didn't want to write this post. I've been avoiding it but since I'm up at 1:0a AM and nothing else is going on. I'll just get on with it.

I am three days past my due date.

I never ever thought I would be over 40 weeks pregnant. I mean, I never even considered it. I think I'm actually still in shock. And I'm kind of pissed too. I'm like, SO ready to move on to the next phase of my life. It isn't even that I'm sick of being pregnant (which yes-I am). I just can't DO anything. My body is exhausted. Totally exhausted. I tried walking to the local java joint today and you would have thought I ran a marathon. I regurgitate everything I eat, and right now my daughter is kicking the shit out of me. I thought they weren't supposed to move that much at 40 weeks? I can't tell if it hurts because I'm having contractions, or because she is moving all around. Regardless of what it is, I'm very uncomfortable.

Pregnancy is so different than what I thought it was going to beI can't put into words what this experience has been like just yet, because I don't know. I haven't reflected enough because I'm so caught up in when the hell she is getting here that I don't think of much else. Right now I feel like I am about to get seasick from all of this movement so I will finish writing at a later date. I guess she loved the warm milk I just had or something. Oh, and remind me to tell you  about the castor oil conversation I had with my husband.

I'm Every Woman

So I really want to get one more post in before I birth my sweet baby. I thought I was going to keep up this blog,but during pregnancy it's kind of hard. How many times can I write about how much I hate being pregnant? It's just not my bag baby. I am so excited to meet Georgia, of course, but I just wish she could just, like, ring the doorbell and show up as a 25 year old engaged, college graduate who worships the ground I walk on.

So anyway-with impending doom birth and all that, I started to think about NOT being pregnant. I think it's going to be so weird. For the last nine months I've constantly had to take care of myself in a way that I never have before because I was (am) responsible for the health of my unborn daughter. I hope I can keep it up after she is born. I didn't drink much coffee, tried to eat very healthy, early nights, early mornings, no drinking. Yes, I did eat an assload of spanish fries, but I don't think they'll do too much damage. Maybe she'll pop out saying "Hola" or something.  Anyway-some crazy part of me thought that I actually might MISS being pregnant! And then I looked at myself in the mirror and was like..um..yeah...never mind.

So the STATS: I started out at 98lbs. I now weigh 129! Hopefully it comes off fast. I wouldn't actually mind keeping about 5 extra lb post, because then I won't have to get every freaking piece of clothing hemmed,taken in, fitted, shortened-whatever. I don't have any stretch marks, and I am retaining a little bit of water in my fingers, and my once rock hard butt looks now resembles "naked old lady in the locker room ass" but my sister told me that goes away.  I probably gained an inch around on both thighs,  and my boobs went from an A cup to a C cup. So all in all, I guess not so bad. I don't think anyone likes gaining weight. It pretty much sucks, but obviously I HAVE to gain it while pregnant, so topping out at 130 isn't the worst thing in the world.

Now...on to the BIG news! My twin sister Jill had her baby! Last week! Mason is here! He is so freaking cute-he looks like a little sweet pea. He was 5lbs 90z and born just a few days before his due date. I remember how weird I felt when my younger sister had her first baby. I was all, wtf? How did that happen?  She's a MOM!  I feel the same way with my twin sister. uh...somebody's mom? It's crazy. She is going to be a great mommy and I am very proud of her, because I heard she was very brave throughout labor and birth.

Remember when you were little and how you thought about your friends' moms? They were just... moms. They didn't have  a past, or feelings, or personalities. They were just there to say yes or no, or to yell at you if you got caught smoking cigarettes( O wait, that was my mom), to tell you to go to sleep, and to make sure you were equipped with tools to make the best decisions in order to have a successful life. Okay, well, that one I didn't realize until recently. I've had a bit of a bumpy road, but I think that my parents instilled the right value system along the way, and I think I turned out okay. I was able to see the warning signs, and make some changes before I got to a point where I wouldn't be able to help myself.  My life turned out great actually! I'm not the super singing phenom that I once thought I would be, but that's okay. I have baby Georgia on the way, and my wonderful husband. And my new nephew. And my three other little nephews, my siblings, my grandparents, awesome aunts, uncles, cousins, and a small but wonderful group of good friends. I have so many wonderful role models that have helped me along the way.  I love my house (which I will write about at another time), I love living in Philly, I really do like my job-and most important of all-I finally like myself! After years and years and years of negative self talk, of feeling like I sucked, of lucid nightmares, losing my singing voice, and basically feeling like I was drowning in the biggest blackest ocean in the world. I've  conquered my demons all by myself, and frankly, I think I rule because of it!

So on that POSITIVE note, I leave with the mystery of childbirth lurking ...er...somewhere.  I'm kind of scared shitless actually, but I've gotten through so much shit over the past few years, that I think I can get through this too. Women have babies every day. Not every woman has gone through my struggles and came out a winner.  

*Random shout out to Whitney Houston. Although, she hasn't exactly come out as any kind of winner. But she did sing I'm Every Woman, and Oprah loved it.

 

And the actress looks like she wants to go home...

So, I don't specifically get MAD at the hubster when he goes out after work.  I'd like to think that if he were pregnant, he wouldn't mind if I went to happy hour once in a while, or out with friends every few months on the weekends. When I first got pregnant, I was all like "Oh, I don't care if he goes out...blah blah blah, I'm such a cool pregnant wife," but these days it's really hard for me not to get mad. I'm so over sitting on the fucking couch night after night.

"Well, dumbass, why don't you go out? Call a friend? Invite people over?" This is what non pregnant Teresa would have said to someone with this complaint. Non pregnant Teresa would  think "You are choosing to sit on the couch. Get the F up and do something and stop feeling sorry for yourself."

Yes. It sounds really easy. It does-but it isn't. First of all..I am uncomfortable people. SO uncomfortable. Think of the most uncomfortable position you could think to ever be in and imagine staying like that all day while trying to act normal. You have to pee every 10 seconds, or fart, or burp, or regurgitate. Knees hurt, ankles hurt, boobs hurt, the inside of my stomach is sooo sore from where she kicks me,  and sometimes I cry at night from it.  Plus, I just can't relate to people at this point. I am consumed by my pregnancy. It's all I can think about, and I am 100% aware that no one wants to hear me bitch about the pain, or gush about Georgia's cute new pink shoes, or talk about breastfeeding vs bottle feeding.

Chris and I went out to dinner last weekend to a bar that we always used to always go to, and I felt like an alien. I felt like everyone was staring at me with disapproval.  I wasn't a cute chick out on a Friday night, I was somebody's pregnant wife ,wolfing down root beer and nachos. I hated every second of it.  Plus the booth we were sitting in sucked, and I thought I was going to need back surgery by the time we left.

So anyway, I understand that sometimes Chris wants so take a break and go out after work. I do too, but I can't.  I think things would get bad if I forced him to stay in every weekend while I just sleep or sit on the couch.  So I don't say anything and I usually fall asleep anyway.

BUT!

Inside, I'm really secretly mad that he is going out. And jealous. And sad. I want to go too. I want to think about things besides where the nearest bathroom is. I want to talk to people who are not parents or pregnant about non parental/pregnant things. At the same time, I am starting to realize that once you ARE a parent, everything changes. I am sort of in limbo right now about who I am.  I don't want to be consumed by mommyhood (vom I hate that word)but this pregnancy has consumed me so much, that I wonder if "mommyhood" has the same kind of  super power over people? Will I only be able to talk about my kid for the next 18 years? I hope not, but at the same time, I've seen it happen to so many people-why would I be different? 

I'm scared of becoming a parent, because I love baby so much, and I want to hopefully give her the best life she could possibly ever have.  But I'm also scared of becoming a parent because I don't want that to be my only identity. Right now, my identity is annoying ,pregnant whiner, and I'm ready to move on. I just don't know who I am moving on to.

So anyway, all this is stemming from Chris going out tonight. I'm just sad. And tired.  And scared. And sore.

Friday Night Date

From: Christopher Smith
Sent: Friday, February 18, 2011 12:03 PM
To: Teresa Kelly

Subject: Re:

Let's go out to dinner!

From: Teresa Kelly

Sent: Friday, February 18, 2011 12:05 PM
To: Christopher Smith
Subject: RE:

 =(. I’m too fat.

From: Christopher Smith
Sent: Friday, February 18, 2011 2:50 PM
To: Teresa Kelly
Subject: RE:

 Let’s go out to dinner!  It’s too nice to be sitting at home…

From: Teresa Kelly
Sent: Friday, February 18, 2011 2:51 PM
To: Christopher Smith
Subject: RE:

Easy for you to say. You don’t feel like you are going to crap a tugboat.

From: Christopher Smith
Sent: Friday, February 18, 2011 2:52 PM
To: Teresa Kelly
Subject: RE:

 That’s disgusting!

From: Teresa Kelly
Sent: Friday, February 18, 2011 2:53 PM
To: Christopher Smith
Subject: RE:

If I tell you the baby hurts, it doesn’t get the same point across.

In which I pee on myself

So, I know this isn't a big deal or anything-but I'm really awesome at peeing in a cup. You do this a lot during pregnancy, so my unknown talent has actually become very useful during the past eight months. Now, just so you know, I did not just "become" good at urinating in a plastic cup. It has taken me years of practice-probably starting at 18 years old when the term "cop a squat" became a regular phrase in my weekend vocab.  You know, at 18 there isn't really anywhere to go to par-tay, so many parties take places in the woods (really?).  Well, for me they did anyway.  At that time I was kind of trying to decide if I wanted to be some kind of 90's revived hippie chick (which thankfully I decided AGAINST) ,so I was down with nature and bonfires at the time. ( Even though I did want to vom  all over the stupid, crying, bongo players on the beach the day Jerry Garcia died) But whatever. My point is, there are no bathrooms in the woods...get what I'm saying? I also went to frat parties sometimes, but even at frat houses sometimes copping a squat in the backyard is a welcome alternative to using a bathroom that is occupied by 18 dirty, sex obsessed college football players. Or something. 

Anyway.  So my years of squatting began then-there were no cups involved per se-but being able to go to the bathroom without going on yourself  takes a little practice-luckily I practiced SO MUCH that I am totally able to do this with no problem.  Gas Stations? HA! I laugh in the face of gas stations!  Lorenzo's Pizza? HAHAHA! They have nothing on me! By the time I was 23 I could pee in a small plastic coffee mug, in the backseat of a moving vee-hick-el driving from Philly to Wilmington, while wearing a hula skirt and sunglasses at 2AM and singing my ass off while harmonizing to Bon Jovi.

Anyway, today I am sad. Today, I had...an accident. Today I went to my 36 week check up, and of course they need to take a urine sample. So I'm all "yeah bitches" and I go into the bathroom. I open the lid. AND I MISS THE FREAKING CUP. And I'm wearing a gray sweat suit so, like, you can see EVERYTHING that happened. Mortifyyyyying.

Now, in my defense. I can't see over my stomach. I haven't shaved or anything since probably October-I can barely bend over to put on my shoes, you know, because there is a FREAKING PERSON living in my uterus!  There is a head in my pelvis people! My pelvis! So it was only a matter of time before I have some kind of accident that involves urine.

So, I miss the cup and peed all over myself in my gray sweat suit. I started crying because I'm fat and I have cramps, and I can't walk. I can't sleep at night because I have restless leg syndrome (for realz, RLS  is no joke!) and I get charlie horses, and my arms and legs feel like they are detaching from my body, and my back (still) feels like I am carrying the state of Texas on it, and now, I've wet myself. 

I don't think I will ever feel pretty or sexy again.

Oh say can you sing?

So, I'm sure that all two of you heard or (if you were lucky) have heard ABOUT Christina Aguilera's Super Bowl snafu, in which she  disrespected the land of the free and the home of the brave by messing up the lyrics to the Star Spangled Banner. I thought she pretty much disrespected America in 2001 with those STD riddled assless chaps, and that stupid single "Dirrty", but whatever. Americans are serious about their national anthem. I think that's nice.

So before I get to what I want to talk about, I have to say, that sometimes when you are singing you DO forget your place. Granted, the times  that I lost my place when I was singing, i was in a bar and no one was paying attention to me. I was NOT in front of hundreds of millions of people singing the most famous song in America. But anyway-there have been occasions mid-song where I start thinking about what I'm going to do tomorrow, did I remember to turn off the stove, is that weird ugly guy that comes to every show a stalker or is there just one like him in every bar? And all of a sudden I'm like "Damn, I lost my place." Now with THAT said-if I were singing the national anthem at the Super Bowl, I really wouldn't try to think about anything else. I would concentrate on the lyrics and concentrate on what I was doing.  Because I'm paranoid like that. Christina was probably like, "I got dis, you vocally challenged mortals"

I am really convinced that most singers don't know what the fuck they are singing about when they sing the SSB.  The only thing they know is that they have to make the note "free" " REALLY long, and  add that interval that everybody adds on the melody.  I don't know what it is-even though 13 years ago I did get an A in my sight singing and ear training class, and could recognize the intervals when they were played. But-yeah that was a long time ago, and I haven't used those types of skillz  in forever. I'm sure if I took a refresher course, I would be a star student again (haha-sarcasam) but anyway-I'm talking about when the singer sings " O'er the land of the free-EEEEEEEE"  and the audience goes all crazy, and claps, and screams and wooo-hooos. Yes-THAT PART, to a lot of singers, is the most important part of the song.

Lyrics? What lyrics? Oh, there are lyrics?  Yes, dumbasses. There are lyrics, and if you actually took a minute to read them, and become familiar with the actual story you are singing about, I don't think people would lose their place. And did you look up "rampart" before you sang it? That is another thing-I would never sing a song unless I knew what the hell I was singing about. If I was going to sing a cover song, I would at least try to get some background on the song to see where the writer was coming from, and if I could somehow relate and interpret it to my own life and experiences. Like, I love the song Creeque Alley by the Mamas and the Papas, but I would never sing it, because it has nothing to do with anything I've ever experienced. It's about how they made it to LA. Why would I sing about that?

So my point is, if singers took the time to think about what Frances Scott Key was actually saying, I think they would sing the song differently. Oh and a rampart is like a protective wall for defensive purposes.  I know this because I sang the SSB once in high school and I was like 'what the fuck is a rampart?" so I looked it up in the tablets of stone dictionary. Listen to the story, and THEN interpret the song. Don't just go for the money note.

Which brings me to my next subject. Melisma. I one hundred and fifty thousand percent blame Mariah Carey for the overuse of melisma in pop singing.  First of all-yes, I am a fan of melisma. Yes, I have done it before when appropriate. Yes, it's really fun to do. But Jesus Christ, you don't do it for every freaking note in the song. Just do it sometimes. Or how about just ONCE at the end for dramatic effect?  Aretha Franklin and Janice Joplin are two of my favorite singers. While they do use that style in their songs, they never sounds like the melisma fairy flew in and barfed all over their melodies. They do it for subtle, but impressive dramatic effective. It works.  One of my other favorite singers, Judy Garland, did not use this style at all and I am convinced she is one of the greatest vocalists of the century. I'm pretty sure she does not have a three octave voice, but she can emote so much in her straight forward style of singing that she doesn't need to have one. it isn't about the notes for her ( well, I mean of course she wants to hit the right notes, but I'm talking about how emotional she is when she sings) Frank Sinatra probably never covered two octaves in any of his songs-but it is  his turn of phrase that I think drew people to his voice.  Does anyone do this anymore?

Singing, to me, has become a lost art (thank you American Idol) and now has turned into a big melisma screaming  crap festival, where people don't care  what they are singing about, they just want to be the highest and the loudest.

I didn't mind so much that Xtina messed up the words, everyone screws up sometimes. But I really hated HOW she sang the song, and I'm surprised that more people didn't comment on that.

Meow!

I'm getting big ya'll. I weigh 127lbs. Now before you hit me over the head with a rolling pin or whatever object is closest to you, just remember that this is my blog and I'm sharing with you my feelings about my pregnancy. Not anyone else's. So on that note...I shall continue.

I KNOW that 127lbs is not big at all.  It's on the small side for women and many people would like to weigh that much. Yes, I understand. And I wouldn't mind being 127 if it was all evenly spread out..some for my arms, some legs, some butt, but it's literally mostly ALL in my belly. My thighs and boobs have gotten a little bigger, and my once rock hard butt looks really weird. It isn't fat, it just isn't, like, up there. It looks kinda saggy. (I hope it goes back to normal), It's just that there is  a TON of weight in my middle. I feel like a weeble wobble. I feel like I have no balance. I have to roll myself off the couch, off the bed, into the kitchen, and into the bathroom ( FYI-These are the VIP hotspots for those living the pregnant life. Don't be jels).  I know all pregnant women go through the perils of weight gain, and everyone is telling me I'm lucky that I am so small, but seriously. No one likes gaining 25lbs in their stomach. I'm sick of feeling like I have no energy, I'm tired of laying in bed, I'm tired of wearing UGGS and slippers. This sounds a lot like my last post, no?

So anyway, yesterday I'm at the doc for my  weekly checkup and I start telling her I'm having bad gas pain.  She gives me this look like I'm the biggest retard on earth and is like "Uhhh..those are contractions" and tells me to get over to labor and delivery.

OOOOKAY.  First of all, I have never been pregnant. I have no idea what the fuck a contraction feels like. From what I've seen in movies and on television, women who are contracting are doubled over, sweating, usually stuck in traffic ina taxi cab in Manhattan, screaming bloody murder, and threatening to castrate their husbands/boyfriends/baby-daddys if they don't get to the hospital NOW.

I have never seen any show where a pregnant woman was like "Damn, I really have to fart. I'm gonna head on over to labor and delivery." So sorry if I didn't know I was having contractions.

Anyway, I get to L&D and it' s super crowded because of all the poor preggers who have fallen in the snow. There was a mom there with her 19 year old daughter who fell on the ice and had to be checked out. While her daughter was being evaluated the mom was having a conversation with this guy whose wife was also there.  I found their conversation to be really disturbing, as the weird guy was asking the mom all about the daughter's boyfriend and if he was "gonna do her right" and then said to the mom "I guess your conversations about birth control don't really work." The mom didn't seem offended, but I was totally mortified for both parties involved. I'm just like "Is this conversation for real?" Like why would you basically tell a stranger her daughter is a dumbass for not using birth control?

Luckily I didn't wait too long, and was taken in the back to be monitored. I had to undress and put on the hott hospital gown. Some genius has invented ties that go on the side of the gowns! How fab!  My ass won't be hanging out.

So I get hooked up to some machine that monitors Georgia (my daughter) and the contractions and lay there for about an hour. At this point, I'm still not convinced I'm contracting so I'm not too worried. Just playing with the cell phone and reading trashy gossip mags. Hum...labor and delivery is not so bad.  The nurse comes in and says there is no way I am going home and that I am contracting every two minutes. I tell her I can't really feel anything, and she tells me they are very mild contractions but she wants to make sure I'm not dilating and does the lovely finger test to check my cervix. Now last time my cervix was checked, the nurse told me I had a perfect cervix. Today she said it was short, thin, and could almost put their finger through it. I had to stay to be monitored to make sure the contractions were not causing any cervical changes.

Long story short-I was dehydrated, which is why the contractions started. "They" put me on IV fluids for a few hours. I wished really hard that a doctor would come in and tell me that burritos were really good for stopping contractions (that never happened), Chris arrived and stayed with me last two hours, and then we went home.  But not before I got into a conversation with the nurse about all of the women who come in with "kitty" inspired tattoos around their lady-parts. I think you know where I am going with this...

I'm exhausted.

Don't Feed the Buffalo

So are these dead birds freaking anyone else out? Dead doves, dead crabs-I can't take it! I'm seriously going to be pissed if the world is ending and I have spent my last months fat, pregnant, and sober.  This is all like the beginning of a horror movie, where the audience sees all kinds of signs of the apocalypse, and the poor unknowing earthlings in the movie just go about their daily business-naive to any kind of space invaders or Jesus coming down on a cloud or whatever. The main family is usually a nice middle class couple with a child...or a CHILD ON THE WAY...I'm just sayin. The movie will be more exciting if someone (me?) gives birth just as the aliens are destroying the earth-and the only survivor is the baby who is adopted by the aliens ,or Jesus or whoever, and GROWS UP TO SAVE THE WORLD. How is that for having a overachieving kid?

So that would be cool. It would also be cool to have Jesus as your kid. As the mother, you wouldn't have to put out on some random night when you are tired from work, with hairy legs, and the last thing you feel like doing is  yor 25 year old sexy starlet act for your husband. It's just like, you wake up and you are preggers.  Not only that-Jesus would come in really handy throughout the years. "Damn, I'm having a dinner party and I forgot to get wine! Jesus, can you turn mommy's water pitcher into a few pitchers or wine, and while you are at it-do something with these loaves of bread."

See? It would be kind of awesome.

Speaking of parties and food, I would like to discuss something that bugs the shit out of me. What I would like to discuss is FREE FOOD AT THE OFFICE.

Okay. I get that it's fun to have office parties. I get that sometimes it's cool to not have to pay for your lunch. But I HATE HATE HATE when people totally freak out about it. Like, they run in with containers and plates and fill up like it's going to be their last meal on earth. And it's usually people you have never seen before coming into your ofice party and taking leftovers. It's like they run in, dig in and run out. They don't stay and socialize. I have no idea why they have "to go" containers at work, but they have them, and they pretty much just act like vultures. Sometimes they get mad that "no one told them there was free food" if they've already brought their lunch. Sometimes they run to get free food even if they've already eaten lunch. God, it's so trashy and embarrassing, and I really can't stand it.

Today a lady who does not work in my department was having a retirement party. Someone from the department was nice enough to invite everyone on our floor to have lunch. I hadn't eaten, and I was trying ( and failing) to motivate my fat pregnant, self to get off my chair to go out and get something to eat. Needless to say, I was thankful for the invite.  Okay so the first thing I see when I walk out into the hallway was a lady standing there with a bag-she obviously just picked up her lunch from a pizza place or Chinese place. "No one told me there was food, I just went out BOUGHT LUNCH!" ( Oh! The horror!)

So, anyway I walk past all of the horrified people who have already bought lunch, and walk into the party room. I walk over the lady who was retiring, introduced myself, and congratulated her, thanked her for inviting me to her party blah blah blah and she cut me a piece of cake and told me to help myself. That seems like the nice normal thing to do. So I'm standing there, and all of a sudden in run in the heard of buffalo who have already bought lunch. They FILL their plates up, don't say anything to anyone, including the lady who is retiring, and just..like...leave.  THAT IS SO RUDE! RUDE! RUDE! RUDE!

I wasn't surprised, really. It just makes me mad that people are that selfish. GRRRR.