Well, it's been a while. I haven't even looked at this thing in ages (okay 12 or so weeks... which = ages). I've been a bit busy with... hmm... a baby?! I really didn't think I would feel the need to re-up this blog thing, but soooo much has been floating through my silly brain that I forget so quickly.... so the best way for me to remember it all is through this... and b/c the good-'ol fashioned type of documenting involving a pen and paper just seems to take too long, now-a-days. So lucky for you (my 5 followers), you get to share in what would be, a journal entry on the post second baby's birth.
So, big surprise, I popped. Yup... another c-section. Although it was planned that way, it didn't happen quite as planned. Of course, true to form, I had to make it interesting. I think the last time I wrote was the week before I went into "labor". I was complaining about how time felt like it was moving so slowly.... well, that last week was a year in my mind. That last week, the doc's had me come in for blood pressure checks (abbriv'd "BP" from now on) THREE TIMES! They suspected pre-eclampsia... again. So, in I went Monday, then again Thursday, and back again on Saturday. I had blood drawn for the second time on Thursday which found higher than normal levels of uric acid in my blood..... (wait a min, I've heard this story before... oh yeah, it's how Ali was born). I thought for sure they'd whisk me in and do the c-section early... which was scheduled for the following Tuesday. But nope.... they just wanted to make me suffer. So anyway... back I went again on Sat. We had company visiting ( my bother-in-law and his fiancee, Karyn) who offered to watch Ali for us while we ran up and back for yet another BP check. The night before Karyn goes, "wouldn't it be so cool if you had the baby while we were here?!" I told her that I'd given up with the whole "early labor" thing and not to get her hopes up.... but, I'd felt a little weird, some contractions, but then again... it could've been my head b/c I just wanted to go SOO badly. Anyway... off we went to the doc (which is 45 mins from our house) and as we were leaving I said to Ali, "See you in a little while, sweetie!" Looking back... that was the statement that sealed the deal! We get there, they hook me up to the monitors for the "non-stress" test... which, I've always thought was a funny name b/c the mear thought of the NEED for a "non-stress" test makes you stressed. Ironic. Anyway... of course my BP was high again... 130 something over high 70's... I think.. and the baby's heart rate kept having decelerations.... AND I was apparently contracting. So... they sent me across the street for some "monitoring". Seriously? You're not going to just deliver me?? It's like... 3 days from my scheduled date and you're going to try and make me wait!????? Ha.. that's what you think! We get there, my BP keeps climbing, they take more blood work, uric acid levels still high, they monitor me some more, they ask me what I've eaten last and when, they make me wait, they take down my medical history and medications, they make me wait, den leaves to get food, I get up to pee 5 times, the woman across from me in triage pukes, she's only 30 weeks, the nurse comes back to check my BP, it's still climbing, she tells me to lay on my side, they make me wait, nurse comes back several times to check my BP, they make me wait several times, Den comes back, Den leaves again to call Joe and Karyn, they make me wait, they take my BP, Den comes back, the nurse comes back... WITH THE DOCTOR, and she asks... "So.. do you want to have a baby today?", and the heavenly bells rang!!!!!
There was no wasting time... off they drag me in my fashionably chic hospital gown...complete with open-butt air flow... through the halls of the maternity ward to room 319.... scratch that... 316 (319 was the nice, big corner room with the good view.... that was "dirty"... so 316 it is.) Here's what I thought: "Great... "16" I hate 6's... in fact, I have a phobia of 6's.. it stems from the whole 666 devil number... yeah, if I see "666" I freak and think something bad is going to happen.... once... I was even getting "666" text messages from a mysterious number that "didn't exist" and would delete themselves when I finally got the balls up to go to verizon and have them trace it.... yeah, so I hate the number 6. So, of course I'm thinking... something bad is going to happen... I'm going to die on the table... I'm going to have a baby with 3 arms and 2 noses.... I need to calm the F down and shut off the "6" phobia for the day. The nurse comes in to give me an IV so that I can get in a bag of saline before the surgery. Poor thing... I made he question her medical degree.... she tried 3 times then called in the nurse who never fails.... well, sorry hun... I broke your streak... my veins are like the Olympic qualifiers....only the elite belong. So, she calls in the phlebotomist, whose whole job in life is to put in IV's (or so I think... what do I know). Good guy... was in the gulf war... got banged up a lot, came home... landed this job...I know I'm missing parts but forgive me... I was being poked in the arms... yes plural... about 5 times at this point. And that's not counting the "re-adjusts" where they would pull out, then shove back in, then blow up my arm with saline which just proved that it wasn't "in correctly" and didn't exactly feel like a Swedish massage... The phlebotomist (is that even the right word?? I don't know, but you get the idea) starts to sweat... Bob... that was his name... I look around and think, this room is shitty... damn 16... it's raining and cold (well, it's March in New England, i guess I can't expect much more). This is taking forever.... he chuckles that I'm the hardest he's ever come into contact with... says my veins just clamp down when he sticks me... hmmm weird... could it be b/c they don't like to be stuck? The doctor comes in and asks if we're ready to go yet... the nurse laughs... she's a sarcastic middle-aged lady who had clearly been doing this job for a little too long. She's lost the whole... "compassion" part and replaced it with dry humor... which took some getting used to. So, the doc comes in and asks to try... she thinks she's found a vein... the whole time I'm fearing that this whole vein problem is secretly the sign for a drug problem like heroin... I'm planning my excuses in anticipation of them asking... why? Oh.. b/c I'm pretty much crazy at this point... I don't even know what heroin looks like... and FINALLY... after 7 tries... it's in.
Fast forward to the operating room... that sarcastic, dark humored nurse turns into a comfortable rock. She makes me feel at ease... like my mother would. I'm getting my spinal... the anaesthesiologist is a woman, the doc is a woman, and all the nurses are women.... I think that's pretty cool, then a weird sensation down my spinal canal and off to the left of my butt interrupts my thought. I flinch... oh no... was I supposed to move... I'm gonna be paralyzed... damn 6 I knew it! Wait.. I can still move my toes (just had to check)... I tell her what I felt, she tries again... it's a little less to the left this time, but none-the-less, the same feeling... She says that it's okay.... they lay me down, I start to loose sensation... all to slowly for my nerves and I start to fear they'll start too early.... I'm going to feel it! I tell them nervously that I can still move my feet.... the doctor assures me in that voice that most people would use to communicate with a 2 year old.... but in a sincere and comforting way... they put up that blue drape so I can't see anything... part of me wants to see it. The anaesthesiologist is so nice... she's so attentive to my needs the whole time.... explains it all... tells me why I'm feeling what I feel... then bumps up the drugs when I feel the awkward shoulder discomfort that sneaks through in a certain small percentage of patients... of course it would be me (damn 6). This time around feels so different... I remember it more. In a weird way I want it to last.... for that 1 hour.. everyone was there making sure I was okay... I felt "taken care of"... it's nice. Oh yeah... and somewhere in the midst of it all... RILEY WAS BORN!! He cries right away... and when Den tells me he weighed 8lbs 6ozs I thought I heard him wrong.... then I get a weird sense of accomplishment... like, yeeeeah... I did it! I carried a baby THAT big and all that complaining was actually justified! He's HUGE! They wrap him up, and bring him over to me... he looks mexican (no offense intended). I start to think of how we jokingly named him "Paco" after the dominican man who brought us on the world's worst, ghetto, snorkeling trip in the DR (the DR is also where he was conceived... hence the joke). I chuckle in my head... I'm wheeled back to recovery, I post a pic on facebook... b/c obviously that's the most important thing at that moment.... we call the parents... I miss Ali... and then I can't sleep. I'm deathly afraid he'll just stop breathing so I stay awake... watching him... itching my nose every other second thanks to the morphine (hate that). The nurse comes in and asks what's wrong... I tell her.. she offers to take him to the nursery so I can sleep.. I take her up on it (Den's obviously asleep by now... has been for a while). I still lie awake... itching.. not sleeping.. UGH.
Well... that was the first 24 hours... then after that, the world's worst pain set in for the next 24... no medication touched it and I cried and I cried and I did everything they told me to... I walked b/c they thought it was "gas"... (wasn't gas)... I laid on my belly b/c they thought it was "gas" (I told them I didn't think it was gas).... I took a "gas-x" b/c they thought it was "gas" (It's NOT F'ing GAS you a-holes give me some stronger drugs!.... please.) They realized it wasn't gas and upped my meds... it helped for about 3 hours... then returned with a vengeance... I writhed in pain, sweating, moaning, (Den slept), until finally I passed out... and when I woke up the next morning... the sun was shining (the last 3 days had been the worst, most miserable rain ever), and it was the day I was eligible to go home... I was happy. I showered, brushed my teeth, felt like a million bucks minus a few, and happily anticipated going home and starting our new life as a family of 4. A lot more happened in between but seriously... you're bored enough now. Another day, another post. Tonight I sit here... before the last day of my 12 week maternity leave.... I think I'm going to take advantage and go to bed w/o any work worries for the last time... Monday morning my life changes again.... back to being a working mother again, except this time it's a working mother of 2... and a 2-job working mother. OHHHHHHHH JOY :(
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Saturday, March 6, 2010
When a day becomes a month........
Well, we're in the final days..... but each day has now become the equivilant of a month! I'm so uncomfortable, that all the complaining in the world won't help (but i'm still going to do it... hah). I'm starting to feel anxious about having a second child.... can I handle it? What have I done?? What if he's not healthy? What if the baby had colic?? I'll go crazy... the usually confident self has been traded in for an uneasy, doubtful version of me. I'm feeling like... like up until this point it's been a very nice "concept" to be pregnant, and be carrying our second child, but the pregnancy had been more of a medical condition, so-to-speak, than an actual, real life, baby growing inside me that I will now me stuck with caring for, for the REST OF MY LIFE! Okay, that was a little overkill, but it's hard to grasp the enitre concept until it's almost here. It's almost as if at times, I'm outside myself, looking in.... at this life that I don't know. Time seems to have gone by so fast and for as long as I can remember, I've always "dreamed" of being a wife and a mother and having children, but it was always just that.... a dream. It's almost as if I never expected the day to actually come when it would be a reality. So when I have a second to breathe, I sometimes sit and reflect on it all.... and it truely baffles me... like someone hit the fast forward button to my life and I missed all the transitional periods where you have time to get used to and adjust to the major changes that are happeneing. I know that I lived everyday and I was there both physically and mentally, but sometimes I feel as if that was just a movie, or a dream and that I'm actually just a teenager, single, under the care of my parents..... immature and unqualified to ACTUALLY be living that life. You would think that this would've happened with the first child.... and it did, to an extent, but it's really hitting me this time around. I guess that with two kids.... you're a full-fledged family. You are a mother of TWO, not just one. You've graduated to the second teir of motherhood.... where you're 100% entrenched. With one baby, it's acceptable to still have "a life" and it's usually possible. You could concieveablly still be a little immature, selfish, and you haven't fallen into that category yet where you have to drive a minivan or wear horrible jeans. Especially if you're young, a lot of your friends are still living that post college, pre-marriage lifestyle with minimal responsibilities and lots of disposable income. When you have one child, they can steal you away for a night here and there and you don't yet feel like a 80 year old in a college bar.... but with TWO kids.... it's almost as if, no matter what age, you're mentally at LEAST a middle-aged, mom-jean wearing, mini-van driving, 100% RESPONSIBLE, homebody. Society kind of stears you down the path to permanent maturity with a one-way ticket to unexcitement. Oh, I know... it's not all true.... plenty of "mothers-of-two" have wonderful, chic, exciting lives..... BUT.... also, plenty of "mothers-of-two" go out and buy their first minivan.... settle for unflattering "mom" jeans, never wear a bikini again... and think of an exciting night out as a dinner at the local family-friendly restaurant. Now, there is ABSOLUTELY nothing wrong with this. There is nothing wrong with being a responsible, family-oriented, van-driving women, but when you feel as if your fast-forward button was hit, and you're actually NOT supposed to be there yet, it can make the transtition like jumping naked into the deep end of a pool in the middle of January. My natural instinct is to kind of pretend like it's not all real.... I think that's why it hasn't hit me until this point, that this thing inside me is going to one day, be my son.... a living, breathing, human being that will walk and talk and eat and poop and one day learn to drive and have his first kiss and hopefully, have a wife and kids of his own. Now see... that's WAY too much to grasp at this point, because if you think about ALL of that, then all of the sudden you're 68 and a grand parent and life is almost over. Then what? What if you still feel like someone hit that fast-forward button and you're actually meant to be in your mid 20's, living life as a free spirit, with a fully-functioning body and mind, and nothing tying you down. I don't want to wake up one day and realize that's what has happened. How is it that you take each day and embrace it so that you don't one day wake up like that?? How do you take each day and engrain it in your memory, so that when you ARE 68 and a grand parent, you can honestly look back and feel as if you lived every moment in between? I hope that the secret comes with age and I just haven't found it yet.
Now, although this has mostly been about time flying.... it feels as if these last few days are FROZEN in time. I can't WISH it away fast enough. I have 10 days until my scheduled c-section and 10 days sounds like 10 YEARS!!! I feel like someone has punched my in the stomach, AT ALL TIMES, and I even cry it hurts so bad... not to mention, when you don't sleep, NOTHING is fun...... NOTHING. I know there is "an end in sight" but it seems as if that end is just a dream.... kind of like one of those things you've always thought about, but will never really happen. I know I should cherish these last few days with "the final" baby inside me.... feeling him kick and roll and practice for the olympics, but I'm finding it hard to have a positive attitiude about ANY of this discomfort. This kid's gotta be a good 15lbs! Okay, I exaggerate, but you all should know that about me by now. My ankles are so swollen that I've been wearing flip-flops in 30 degree weather, my bladder is so smushed that I pee about 3 times an hour.... if not more... and like I said, sleep?? HAH.... I forget the meaning of the word! I am cranky and a big PITA at this point, i'm sure. I feel like an inadequate mother b/c I can't hold my daughter as much, and things like bending over to give her a bath is such a production that I actually dread it every night. I need the magic pill that makes all the negative go away, time fly (for now at least), and a positive attitude shine through. I feel handicap... and I have a new found respect for anyone with a little extra weight on their bodies. I can't sit, I can't lay, standing is okay for my belly, but not my legs, walking hurts, bending is near impossble and my ability to do anything below the waist is gone.... SOOOOOOOOO, as much as I'm not mentally ready to graduate to the second tier of motherhood and become a 100% responsible, mini-van driving, bad jean wearing, family-oriented mother of two..... I'm physically ready to get this DARN baby OUT!
And I can't wait to meet him..... :) I should also add, that my life is a dream... a fairlytale.... I just can't believe it's here already.
Now, although this has mostly been about time flying.... it feels as if these last few days are FROZEN in time. I can't WISH it away fast enough. I have 10 days until my scheduled c-section and 10 days sounds like 10 YEARS!!! I feel like someone has punched my in the stomach, AT ALL TIMES, and I even cry it hurts so bad... not to mention, when you don't sleep, NOTHING is fun...... NOTHING. I know there is "an end in sight" but it seems as if that end is just a dream.... kind of like one of those things you've always thought about, but will never really happen. I know I should cherish these last few days with "the final" baby inside me.... feeling him kick and roll and practice for the olympics, but I'm finding it hard to have a positive attitiude about ANY of this discomfort. This kid's gotta be a good 15lbs! Okay, I exaggerate, but you all should know that about me by now. My ankles are so swollen that I've been wearing flip-flops in 30 degree weather, my bladder is so smushed that I pee about 3 times an hour.... if not more... and like I said, sleep?? HAH.... I forget the meaning of the word! I am cranky and a big PITA at this point, i'm sure. I feel like an inadequate mother b/c I can't hold my daughter as much, and things like bending over to give her a bath is such a production that I actually dread it every night. I need the magic pill that makes all the negative go away, time fly (for now at least), and a positive attitude shine through. I feel handicap... and I have a new found respect for anyone with a little extra weight on their bodies. I can't sit, I can't lay, standing is okay for my belly, but not my legs, walking hurts, bending is near impossble and my ability to do anything below the waist is gone.... SOOOOOOOOO, as much as I'm not mentally ready to graduate to the second tier of motherhood and become a 100% responsible, mini-van driving, bad jean wearing, family-oriented mother of two..... I'm physically ready to get this DARN baby OUT!
And I can't wait to meet him..... :) I should also add, that my life is a dream... a fairlytale.... I just can't believe it's here already.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Pregnancy and the booze biz
Yet again... I've returned to my negative ways... but it's not my fault. I blame my job. Normally, I would have to say I have it made.... my job has every perk a girl could want... flexibility, no set work hours, a boss who doesn't see what you're doing 4 out of the 5 days every week, and best of all....free booze.... How hard can it really be to walk in and out of bars all day, tasting people on the newest vodka or helping a restaurateur select wines for their wine list.. or helping a retailer decide how much to buy at the end of the month before an item goes off post (post=sale for all you non-liquor biz peeps). How taxing can it be to sit in a sales meeting every Friday and sample an array of new products... arriving home by 5pm with a slight hangover. On the surface, it's the perfect job. The opportunity to make a TON of money selling a product that will NEVER go out of style or be out priced or fall through the cracks. No one ever runs in the other direction when they see YOU come through the door... with your bag full of samples, you might as well be Santa clause. BUT....... (because isn't there always a "but")
But in the competitive ( or should I say cut throat, Rambo style) world of the booze biz, no slack is cut for those who are pregnant. At first, everyone is so intrigued to hear you're pregnant (like... is that possible? You sell liquor, it can't be!). So,.. it sparks a slight increase in sales for about... oh... 5 minutes. Then, in this male dominated business, the sharks come out. It's like the smell of fresh blood in the water... they've all come to feed, and they bait is your accounts... the business you've worked so hard to build becomes the prey. Since most of the sales reps are male as well as most of the retailers/restaurateurs being male, they don't think with their heads... (or at least not the right one) and most have only hearts made of stone (if any at all). The first thing that crosses all their minds is... "weakness". Pregnant = weakness which is followed by the inevitable doubt that you will return. So here you are, 3 months pregnant with something the size of a pumpkin seed inside you and you might as well have had both legs amputated, a mental break down, and a lobotomy. You've already been written off, and every day that you show up is more of a shock and annoyance than expected. Now let me back track for a minute and explain that most business is obtained through a sort of totem pole seniority. The longer you've been servicing an account, the higher on the totem pole you climb which in turn gives you more and more business. Also, just like all sales, the better the relationship you have with your accounts, USUALLY, the more business you get. BUT... (there's that damn word again), there is little to no "loyalty" in this business. It's more of a "what have you done for me lately" business. So, as you can see... you can work and work and work your butt off to build this relationship, climb that totem pole, and one slip-up or one doubt can bring you crashing down to the floor. You get these retailers/restaurateurs (mostly male... I will reiterate) that get what I like to call, "the GOD complex". With over 4 major companies and numerous non-major companies vying for their business like..... well, like sharks in a feeding frenzy,... just knowing that they have the control and the power to decide who gets what, the ability to impact the cash flow to each person directly, these people learn to TORTURE you! Some will dangle the carrot of business in your face only to rip it away and give it to your competitor for no reason at all... or any reason. There are NO guarantees, nothing is ever set in stone, and you can certainly NEVER fully trust ANYONE. Now, couple that with a company who makes promises to the "big guys" fondly known as "suppliers" (those would be the companies who own/distribute brands like captain, ketel, and smirnoff... to name a few) on behalf of you, the lowly sales rep..... promises that sometimes mean sacrificing your first born to make happen.... placements and case sales all about 4 times higher than reality would dictate.... you soon become a magician, or so your boss will think, and the answer "not possible" is never acceptable. I often use the term, "Okay, I'll just sprinkle my pixie dust to get THAT one done!" meanwhile, you're out 'til all hours of the night, picking up the dry cleaning for an account just so he'll take in a QUALIFYING placement of the new $50 dollar a bottle bacon vodka (I hear that's actually coming, by the way). Sometimes, I check my back to make sure I don't have a "kick me" sign on it... So to sum up my pretty picture you've got the pressure from above, the "whataya gonna do fer me now's" and the sharks circling around you at all times..... and that's NOT being pregnant. Now, add it the pregnant part and that weak glue that seemed to keep it all together, that delicate juggling act of keeping everyone happy while fighting off predators, it all comes crashing down!!!!
Like I said, first they're all intrigued and some of the women may even show signs of being "supportive" but family life doesn't fit nicely into competitive sales of ANY kind... especially booze. How can you sell it if you can't drink it? She couldn't possibly know what's good or not if she can't even try it! That's obstacle # 1. Then there's the whole trying to work through morning sickness thing, which I described briefly in my first post..... like running a marathon after a night of tequila drinking. So, you call your accounts a couple of days that you just can't bear to lift your head up and all of the sudden, you're deemed "Unreliable". Now, try shaking THAT title. Then, as you get further and further along, there are more and more doctor appointments and although the schedule is flexible, people aren't always as much... and someone who you usually saw at 11am on Wednesday mornings, you have had to move, every so often, to 12pm on Wednesday afternoons which to them, makes you look like the worst sales rep b/c something is OBVIOUSLY coming before them. Then there's the notion that ANY time a mistake is made, it's automatically b/c you just don't care anymore.... b/c you couldn't possibly be career minded AND pregnant... nope, not possible. Being surrounded by men doesn't help, either.... For the most part, from the CEO's right down to the package store employees, most of these men have never had to be the primary care taker for children... even if they have their own. So even if they TRY and sympathize, it never actually gets through to them and you end up becoming the stereotypical pregnant woman eventually... and to add in having another child,... the whole thing becomes compounded. Life's full of complications, ruined plans, good intentions that no one ever sees, but what you're judged on in this business is not so much what you've done, but what they THINK you've done, or not done.... I would love to pose the question to any judgemental male with a wife and kids of his own.... "what would you do if your wife's boss or accounts (in my case) gave her a hard time for staying home with your sick 1 year old??" "What would you do if people assumed your wife didn't work hard because she had to call some accounts due to being so sick that she couldn't leave her bed.... or maybe because she had to get a 2nd ultrasound done b/c there might be something wrong with the baby's heart?" "What would you do if YOU had the flu and were too sick to work and someone deemed YOU 'Unreliable' because you called out for a few days?" "What would you do if you saw your wife running out at all hours of the evening to pick up checks or take orders while 9 months pregnant, after you've witnessed her not sleep for 3 days straight now.... or after she's been up all night with your sick toddler?? and if she refused, how would you feel when these people called her boss or gave her a hard time or made her feel bad,as if she'd never measure up.." "How would you feel if when your wife returned to work after maternity leave, numerous of what she thought were 'loyal' accounts, dropped her b/c of her decision to stay home and raise your child for the first few months of it's life?" "What would you do if you had to see her cry over people's assumptions that she doesn't care, despite seeing the fight she still has that no one else seems to take notice of...??" or how about... "HOW WOULD YOU FEEL if this were YOU?????"
In so many professions, this is the unfortunate case. You become a liability, an annoyance, a problem, a headache, a hurdle, and an easy target. Me personally?? I'm F'n sick of it! And here's my warning b/c I'm about to get a little riled up.... Here I am 9 f'ing months pregnant.... walking around in pain EVERY DAY that I don't tell anyone about (except my poor husband), giving it MORE than my all b/c I don't want to be perceived as not working hard enough and what happens???? I get dicked over, preyed upon, targeted, given up on, and JUDGED to be a lost cause.... to name a few. My boss has already written me off and I'm pretty sure he's already started searching for my replacement... my numbers are so down b/c no one thinks they're going to have to face me, or they assume that I don't care, or they hold it against me that I've been having to call more often than usual (rather than show up in person), and they give the business away. Then, as a result, My bosses think I suck and look at me like I'm a poor excuse for an employee or tell me that I'm not pulling my weight. I love my job, I love to work hard at my job, but when the health of my baby or my child is in jeopardy, that will supersede a sales call. Doesn't anyone see that my family will always come first and that this is something that should be commended????? NO, instead they'd all rather have me be a horrible, alcoholic, workaholic mother who leaves her kids at home all night so that I can go out an spend money in my accounts to "show my loyalty" and drink my products. They would like me to be available at all hours of the day and night to make sure that they don't run out of jager or that their bills are paid... they want my mind and my physical abilities to be that of superwoman and will accept nothing less... no excuse is good enough, or okay and there should NEVER be a reason to not be 100% on top of my game. I'm not legitimately unable to work, oh no... I'm just Lazy! Well Fuck THAT! I'm not their accountants, but I do my best to make sure they pay their bills on time, I'm not their employees, yet I make sure to keep track of their inventories.... shouldn't there be a thank-you?? Instead, they just tell me how disappointed they are in me when GOD forbid, something happens and I slip up. No big deal, I'm just in labor, but I'll be right there to pick up that check and deposit it in the bank so you can get your two sleeves of jager tomorrow. But for what?? It's not like they're going to "take care of me" while I'm out.... or when I get back... nope, half of them will dump me like a bad habit and almost none of them will even remember my name in a month. Do you think they're going to protect MY income or MY business while I'm gone?? Do you think they're going to give any thought to if I'm able to pay MY bills or if I have enough for formula and diapers?? I highly, highly doubt it. I haven't even left work yet to get cut open and begin the adventure of being a mother of 2, and I've got competitive men going into my accounts telling them I'm not coming back. Maybe I shouldn't.... when does it become too much to handle? When does it become not worth the fight??
I know I shouldn't care what anyone thinks... I do my job well and that should be all that matters, as long as I know it in my heart,... but it's becomming hard to measure up to these mile high expectiations and maintain a positive attitude when all the feedback is negative. In a time where all I need is a stree FREE environment... it seems like everyone has turned up the heat! No one seems to care that I'm carrying a full term baby around. I shouldn't be worrying if bar x's bills are paid, I should be worrying about having a healthy baby... but instead I can't help but obsess that I only hit 91% of my quota last month and that i'm being squeezed out of my second biggest account..... Here I am days from delivery and I can't even focus on putting a nursery together b/c all I can't think about is how I'm going to fix this crap before I leave!
Okay, i'm stopping... I could go on and on and on and still not be satisfied.. fact of the matter is, it's not going to change by typing in a blog!
Uh... I'm so ready to be done with work for a few months.... then maybe when I return to the shit storm, I'll have a little more tolerance for it. Sorry, I know that most of you will not have made it past this first paragraph, but for those of you who did and are thoroughly bored, I apologize.... this was more for me than anything else. I just needed to vent.... now I should re-read it and make sure it even makes sense!
But in the competitive ( or should I say cut throat, Rambo style) world of the booze biz, no slack is cut for those who are pregnant. At first, everyone is so intrigued to hear you're pregnant (like... is that possible? You sell liquor, it can't be!). So,.. it sparks a slight increase in sales for about... oh... 5 minutes. Then, in this male dominated business, the sharks come out. It's like the smell of fresh blood in the water... they've all come to feed, and they bait is your accounts... the business you've worked so hard to build becomes the prey. Since most of the sales reps are male as well as most of the retailers/restaurateurs being male, they don't think with their heads... (or at least not the right one) and most have only hearts made of stone (if any at all). The first thing that crosses all their minds is... "weakness". Pregnant = weakness which is followed by the inevitable doubt that you will return. So here you are, 3 months pregnant with something the size of a pumpkin seed inside you and you might as well have had both legs amputated, a mental break down, and a lobotomy. You've already been written off, and every day that you show up is more of a shock and annoyance than expected. Now let me back track for a minute and explain that most business is obtained through a sort of totem pole seniority. The longer you've been servicing an account, the higher on the totem pole you climb which in turn gives you more and more business. Also, just like all sales, the better the relationship you have with your accounts, USUALLY, the more business you get. BUT... (there's that damn word again), there is little to no "loyalty" in this business. It's more of a "what have you done for me lately" business. So, as you can see... you can work and work and work your butt off to build this relationship, climb that totem pole, and one slip-up or one doubt can bring you crashing down to the floor. You get these retailers/restaurateurs (mostly male... I will reiterate) that get what I like to call, "the GOD complex". With over 4 major companies and numerous non-major companies vying for their business like..... well, like sharks in a feeding frenzy,... just knowing that they have the control and the power to decide who gets what, the ability to impact the cash flow to each person directly, these people learn to TORTURE you! Some will dangle the carrot of business in your face only to rip it away and give it to your competitor for no reason at all... or any reason. There are NO guarantees, nothing is ever set in stone, and you can certainly NEVER fully trust ANYONE. Now, couple that with a company who makes promises to the "big guys" fondly known as "suppliers" (those would be the companies who own/distribute brands like captain, ketel, and smirnoff... to name a few) on behalf of you, the lowly sales rep..... promises that sometimes mean sacrificing your first born to make happen.... placements and case sales all about 4 times higher than reality would dictate.... you soon become a magician, or so your boss will think, and the answer "not possible" is never acceptable. I often use the term, "Okay, I'll just sprinkle my pixie dust to get THAT one done!" meanwhile, you're out 'til all hours of the night, picking up the dry cleaning for an account just so he'll take in a QUALIFYING placement of the new $50 dollar a bottle bacon vodka (I hear that's actually coming, by the way). Sometimes, I check my back to make sure I don't have a "kick me" sign on it... So to sum up my pretty picture you've got the pressure from above, the "whataya gonna do fer me now's" and the sharks circling around you at all times..... and that's NOT being pregnant. Now, add it the pregnant part and that weak glue that seemed to keep it all together, that delicate juggling act of keeping everyone happy while fighting off predators, it all comes crashing down!!!!
Like I said, first they're all intrigued and some of the women may even show signs of being "supportive" but family life doesn't fit nicely into competitive sales of ANY kind... especially booze. How can you sell it if you can't drink it? She couldn't possibly know what's good or not if she can't even try it! That's obstacle # 1. Then there's the whole trying to work through morning sickness thing, which I described briefly in my first post..... like running a marathon after a night of tequila drinking. So, you call your accounts a couple of days that you just can't bear to lift your head up and all of the sudden, you're deemed "Unreliable". Now, try shaking THAT title. Then, as you get further and further along, there are more and more doctor appointments and although the schedule is flexible, people aren't always as much... and someone who you usually saw at 11am on Wednesday mornings, you have had to move, every so often, to 12pm on Wednesday afternoons which to them, makes you look like the worst sales rep b/c something is OBVIOUSLY coming before them. Then there's the notion that ANY time a mistake is made, it's automatically b/c you just don't care anymore.... b/c you couldn't possibly be career minded AND pregnant... nope, not possible. Being surrounded by men doesn't help, either.... For the most part, from the CEO's right down to the package store employees, most of these men have never had to be the primary care taker for children... even if they have their own. So even if they TRY and sympathize, it never actually gets through to them and you end up becoming the stereotypical pregnant woman eventually... and to add in having another child,... the whole thing becomes compounded. Life's full of complications, ruined plans, good intentions that no one ever sees, but what you're judged on in this business is not so much what you've done, but what they THINK you've done, or not done.... I would love to pose the question to any judgemental male with a wife and kids of his own.... "what would you do if your wife's boss or accounts (in my case) gave her a hard time for staying home with your sick 1 year old??" "What would you do if people assumed your wife didn't work hard because she had to call some accounts due to being so sick that she couldn't leave her bed.... or maybe because she had to get a 2nd ultrasound done b/c there might be something wrong with the baby's heart?" "What would you do if YOU had the flu and were too sick to work and someone deemed YOU 'Unreliable' because you called out for a few days?" "What would you do if you saw your wife running out at all hours of the evening to pick up checks or take orders while 9 months pregnant, after you've witnessed her not sleep for 3 days straight now.... or after she's been up all night with your sick toddler?? and if she refused, how would you feel when these people called her boss or gave her a hard time or made her feel bad,as if she'd never measure up.." "How would you feel if when your wife returned to work after maternity leave, numerous of what she thought were 'loyal' accounts, dropped her b/c of her decision to stay home and raise your child for the first few months of it's life?" "What would you do if you had to see her cry over people's assumptions that she doesn't care, despite seeing the fight she still has that no one else seems to take notice of...??" or how about... "HOW WOULD YOU FEEL if this were YOU?????"
In so many professions, this is the unfortunate case. You become a liability, an annoyance, a problem, a headache, a hurdle, and an easy target. Me personally?? I'm F'n sick of it! And here's my warning b/c I'm about to get a little riled up.... Here I am 9 f'ing months pregnant.... walking around in pain EVERY DAY that I don't tell anyone about (except my poor husband), giving it MORE than my all b/c I don't want to be perceived as not working hard enough and what happens???? I get dicked over, preyed upon, targeted, given up on, and JUDGED to be a lost cause.... to name a few. My boss has already written me off and I'm pretty sure he's already started searching for my replacement... my numbers are so down b/c no one thinks they're going to have to face me, or they assume that I don't care, or they hold it against me that I've been having to call more often than usual (rather than show up in person), and they give the business away. Then, as a result, My bosses think I suck and look at me like I'm a poor excuse for an employee or tell me that I'm not pulling my weight. I love my job, I love to work hard at my job, but when the health of my baby or my child is in jeopardy, that will supersede a sales call. Doesn't anyone see that my family will always come first and that this is something that should be commended????? NO, instead they'd all rather have me be a horrible, alcoholic, workaholic mother who leaves her kids at home all night so that I can go out an spend money in my accounts to "show my loyalty" and drink my products. They would like me to be available at all hours of the day and night to make sure that they don't run out of jager or that their bills are paid... they want my mind and my physical abilities to be that of superwoman and will accept nothing less... no excuse is good enough, or okay and there should NEVER be a reason to not be 100% on top of my game. I'm not legitimately unable to work, oh no... I'm just Lazy! Well Fuck THAT! I'm not their accountants, but I do my best to make sure they pay their bills on time, I'm not their employees, yet I make sure to keep track of their inventories.... shouldn't there be a thank-you?? Instead, they just tell me how disappointed they are in me when GOD forbid, something happens and I slip up. No big deal, I'm just in labor, but I'll be right there to pick up that check and deposit it in the bank so you can get your two sleeves of jager tomorrow. But for what?? It's not like they're going to "take care of me" while I'm out.... or when I get back... nope, half of them will dump me like a bad habit and almost none of them will even remember my name in a month. Do you think they're going to protect MY income or MY business while I'm gone?? Do you think they're going to give any thought to if I'm able to pay MY bills or if I have enough for formula and diapers?? I highly, highly doubt it. I haven't even left work yet to get cut open and begin the adventure of being a mother of 2, and I've got competitive men going into my accounts telling them I'm not coming back. Maybe I shouldn't.... when does it become too much to handle? When does it become not worth the fight??
I know I shouldn't care what anyone thinks... I do my job well and that should be all that matters, as long as I know it in my heart,... but it's becomming hard to measure up to these mile high expectiations and maintain a positive attitude when all the feedback is negative. In a time where all I need is a stree FREE environment... it seems like everyone has turned up the heat! No one seems to care that I'm carrying a full term baby around. I shouldn't be worrying if bar x's bills are paid, I should be worrying about having a healthy baby... but instead I can't help but obsess that I only hit 91% of my quota last month and that i'm being squeezed out of my second biggest account..... Here I am days from delivery and I can't even focus on putting a nursery together b/c all I can't think about is how I'm going to fix this crap before I leave!
Okay, i'm stopping... I could go on and on and on and still not be satisfied.. fact of the matter is, it's not going to change by typing in a blog!
Uh... I'm so ready to be done with work for a few months.... then maybe when I return to the shit storm, I'll have a little more tolerance for it. Sorry, I know that most of you will not have made it past this first paragraph, but for those of you who did and are thoroughly bored, I apologize.... this was more for me than anything else. I just needed to vent.... now I should re-read it and make sure it even makes sense!
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
So, I've noticed a trend as I read through my recent blog posts... and that trend, is a steep, negative slope downwards. I swear I'm not a total hag ALL of the time and I do sometimes remember how to crack a smile.... heck, I even laughed once... last month. So, in an attempt to show a more positive side to both myself and pregnancy, I'm going to write about my most recent exciting event: my 3D/4D ultrasound!
True to form, I got the idea in my head that I wanted to have a 3D/4D ultrasound done about...hm... 6 months ago. I finally made it to the "google" search part of the process about 2 months ago, found a place worthy of viewing my baby, and by the time I actually remembered to call, it was always after they were closed, so by the 5th night of this happening (over a 2 week period), I decided to leave a message with my name and number so that they would call ME. Ugh.... what a process! Well, the next morning, the lady called me (by this point I had totally forgotten about it) and said that they had a cancellation for that day at 4:30! I immediately took the appointment, then ran down to tell Den (conveniently, it happened to be his day off) who was oh so excited to spend half his day driving an hour each way to get yet another ultrasound. He made that enthusiasm abundantly clear through his facial lack of expression and his frequent deep sighs..... what is he, a woman? I ignored it, b/c c'mon,... it's not like I'm telepathic. Anyway, the lady took down my information, asked me a bunch of questions, one being, "do you drink a lot of water everyday?" My gut told me she wanted to hear the answer, "yes" so that's what I told her (um... no, would be the truth). In fact, I have to admit, I'm HORRIBLE at the water intake part of this thing. I drive around in a car all day... and last I checked, they don't make porta-potties for the back seat so that leaves me with McDonald's and Dunkin Donuts as the premium option for bathroom stops... or in more dire straits, package store out houses (most are not worthy of the term "bathroom"). Uh.... have you ever seen a package store bathroom?? There's a reason they aren't "public" bathrooms... in fact, about 90% of them would probably be condemned if spotted by the health inspector.... I mean, if there were ever a case for catching herpes off a toilet seat, I know a couple places where I wouldn't be surprised to hear it. Most of these toilets haven't been cleaned since the 70's and there's almost never a sink AND soap.... one or the other, but not both. There's dust on the top of the bowl so thick that the words, "wash me" are more of a permanent marking.... I'm afraid to investigate any further than that. Which brings me to the point I've been trying to make.... would YOU want to sit on one of these herpie infested scum buckets every half hour to let your walnut-sized bladder empty?? My guess is, no. Well, at least that's MY answer and I do drink water, I mean... c'mon, I'm not a completely selfish.... I know the little guy needs a drink once a week or so, but do I consider myself a "good water drinker"?? Heck no. Anyway, I wasn't going to let a little lack of water come between me and my precious 3D/4D ultrasound, not to mention my need for instant gratification, so I chugged water all day long (probably have herpes now from all those darn package store bathrooms) and off we went, driving an hour north to get a premature glimpse at our little bundle of joy.
Once we arrived, we had some paper work to fill out, some proof to show we weren't using this ultrasound in place of pre-natal care, and then a choice of which package we wanted to get. Now... after all the effort it took to get there, the potential herpes exposure, and the months of waiting there was no way I was going to skimp out and choose the least expensive package just b/c it was cheap! What's a little money when it comes to your unborn child?? I mean, who could wait 6 weeks to see their future baby?? Not me! Not me! So, out popped the credit card and $200 later we were in for a 45 minute session of intrauterine bliss. We were then lead into a small, very neatly decorated, plush room full of pillows that was about 95 degrees. I laid down on the couch-like examination table that was more like something out of a pottery barn catalog than a doctors office. It was nice to have pillows and fabric to lay on instead of tissue paper and stirrups. Suddenly, I felt a little shy when it came time to lift up my shirt an expose my protruding belly... it felt like I was just laying on someones couch, but of course.... I didn't come all that way to be shy, so up it went. The lady had a soothing voice and turned the lights down really low as she grabbed the blue-goo jelly that the doctors use, except this blue-goo was WARM... reeeeeally warm, in fact, borderline HOT. She then turned on the projector to allow us to see a super sized version of the screen on the wall in front of us. Soon, Den's lack of expression turned into a face full of anticipation while even Ali found pleasure in pushing all the button's marked "don't touch" in the room. Soon, the lady pulled up the image of our little guy in 2D (like in the doctor's office). She located the major parts to determine his position then went straight for the goods. "Do you know what you're having?" she asked politely before zooming in on a 3D/4D version of our little one's man hood. "Well, we think we do, and we're kind of hoping to confirm it's a boy," we responded. "Well, someones being shy," she remarked as she moved the probe along my belly, trying to get a clearer view, but this guy was like something out of cirque de sole. He had one leg straight out (with a mammoth-sized foot wedged under my upper right rib cage) while the other leg's knee bent and crossed the lower part right across his goodies (with the other mammoth-sized foot using my stomach as a soccer ball). She pushed on my belly a bit, had me eat a mini snickers, then poof! There it was..... in all of it's acorn-sized glory. "awww... how cute," she responded... although all I could think was, "well that's not the response he'll be looking for later in life... I hope it grows!" No wonder he was hiding it! "Hey ma! Couldn't ya wait 'til it's done cooking before ya show all the world my twig and berries??" Oh... he has no clue... b/c not only did he give us a clear shot, but it's in 3D, both black & white AND color photos, and in 4D on video. I'm warning ya kid... bring home a girl Mommy doesn't like, and out comes the footage! Oh... how fun it was to show all the women in the family.... OMG it's so little!! tee hee hee," or "Uh oh, Den.... hope he doesn't take after you!! Tee he he," or "awww it looks JUST like a little acorn!! Tee he he." Den.... on the other hand, wasn't so quick to show anyone those photos. Although, I must defend.... if he takes after his father, then fear not.... fear not at all..... reeeeeally not at all.... (okay, did I do it justice yet?). But honestly.... is it always that tiny?? I mean, I know he's like a total of 5 lbs, but his darn feet were like.... 10 times the size of it. And call me stupid, but I half expected it to be circumcised already. It actually stunned me for a minute to see that it wasn't.... then the fog lifted (from my brain). "Oh yeahhhhh...." (insert light bulb).
So, the 45 minute session was not just comprised of various angles of the acorn. We did get to see some pretty cute footage of his face, although he had the umbilical cord right in front of his nose the whole time, no matter how much I jumped up and down. In the few clear images we got, we did get to see that he has the cutest little button nose, and chubby cheeks just like his big sis, Ali, and he even smiled (or so I'm calling it that) and seems to have DIMPLES!! I know, I know.... probably not true, but it's fun to pretend. And of course, the baby that never sleeps (ever) decided to make that 45 minute session, his nap time. It would be that way, wouldn't it. Sooo... despite being 95 degrees, it was an awesome experience and totally worth the 200 bucks! The only thing that pissed me off (b/c I have to throw in some negative with all this positive crap) was that they didn't take any measurements or do any sort of medical ANYTHING because "they're not a medical facility." Hey, couldn't ya just say.... "looks like he's about 5lbs" or "all his measurements look pretty on target," Just give me SOMETHING to take home... ANYTHING. But I guess we can thank the sue-happy American culture that has become so paranoid that things like "birth control does not prevent or treat STD's" had to be said or someone would be stupid enough to sue b/c it doesn't. All in all... it was awesome (yeah, I know... I said that already).
Next up to do before this pregnancy is over: Get professional belly pics taken. Real photo-shoot, here I come!
True to form, I got the idea in my head that I wanted to have a 3D/4D ultrasound done about...hm... 6 months ago. I finally made it to the "google" search part of the process about 2 months ago, found a place worthy of viewing my baby, and by the time I actually remembered to call, it was always after they were closed, so by the 5th night of this happening (over a 2 week period), I decided to leave a message with my name and number so that they would call ME. Ugh.... what a process! Well, the next morning, the lady called me (by this point I had totally forgotten about it) and said that they had a cancellation for that day at 4:30! I immediately took the appointment, then ran down to tell Den (conveniently, it happened to be his day off) who was oh so excited to spend half his day driving an hour each way to get yet another ultrasound. He made that enthusiasm abundantly clear through his facial lack of expression and his frequent deep sighs..... what is he, a woman? I ignored it, b/c c'mon,... it's not like I'm telepathic. Anyway, the lady took down my information, asked me a bunch of questions, one being, "do you drink a lot of water everyday?" My gut told me she wanted to hear the answer, "yes" so that's what I told her (um... no, would be the truth). In fact, I have to admit, I'm HORRIBLE at the water intake part of this thing. I drive around in a car all day... and last I checked, they don't make porta-potties for the back seat so that leaves me with McDonald's and Dunkin Donuts as the premium option for bathroom stops... or in more dire straits, package store out houses (most are not worthy of the term "bathroom"). Uh.... have you ever seen a package store bathroom?? There's a reason they aren't "public" bathrooms... in fact, about 90% of them would probably be condemned if spotted by the health inspector.... I mean, if there were ever a case for catching herpes off a toilet seat, I know a couple places where I wouldn't be surprised to hear it. Most of these toilets haven't been cleaned since the 70's and there's almost never a sink AND soap.... one or the other, but not both. There's dust on the top of the bowl so thick that the words, "wash me" are more of a permanent marking.... I'm afraid to investigate any further than that. Which brings me to the point I've been trying to make.... would YOU want to sit on one of these herpie infested scum buckets every half hour to let your walnut-sized bladder empty?? My guess is, no. Well, at least that's MY answer and I do drink water, I mean... c'mon, I'm not a completely selfish.... I know the little guy needs a drink once a week or so, but do I consider myself a "good water drinker"?? Heck no. Anyway, I wasn't going to let a little lack of water come between me and my precious 3D/4D ultrasound, not to mention my need for instant gratification, so I chugged water all day long (probably have herpes now from all those darn package store bathrooms) and off we went, driving an hour north to get a premature glimpse at our little bundle of joy.
Once we arrived, we had some paper work to fill out, some proof to show we weren't using this ultrasound in place of pre-natal care, and then a choice of which package we wanted to get. Now... after all the effort it took to get there, the potential herpes exposure, and the months of waiting there was no way I was going to skimp out and choose the least expensive package just b/c it was cheap! What's a little money when it comes to your unborn child?? I mean, who could wait 6 weeks to see their future baby?? Not me! Not me! So, out popped the credit card and $200 later we were in for a 45 minute session of intrauterine bliss. We were then lead into a small, very neatly decorated, plush room full of pillows that was about 95 degrees. I laid down on the couch-like examination table that was more like something out of a pottery barn catalog than a doctors office. It was nice to have pillows and fabric to lay on instead of tissue paper and stirrups. Suddenly, I felt a little shy when it came time to lift up my shirt an expose my protruding belly... it felt like I was just laying on someones couch, but of course.... I didn't come all that way to be shy, so up it went. The lady had a soothing voice and turned the lights down really low as she grabbed the blue-goo jelly that the doctors use, except this blue-goo was WARM... reeeeeally warm, in fact, borderline HOT. She then turned on the projector to allow us to see a super sized version of the screen on the wall in front of us. Soon, Den's lack of expression turned into a face full of anticipation while even Ali found pleasure in pushing all the button's marked "don't touch" in the room. Soon, the lady pulled up the image of our little guy in 2D (like in the doctor's office). She located the major parts to determine his position then went straight for the goods. "Do you know what you're having?" she asked politely before zooming in on a 3D/4D version of our little one's man hood. "Well, we think we do, and we're kind of hoping to confirm it's a boy," we responded. "Well, someones being shy," she remarked as she moved the probe along my belly, trying to get a clearer view, but this guy was like something out of cirque de sole. He had one leg straight out (with a mammoth-sized foot wedged under my upper right rib cage) while the other leg's knee bent and crossed the lower part right across his goodies (with the other mammoth-sized foot using my stomach as a soccer ball). She pushed on my belly a bit, had me eat a mini snickers, then poof! There it was..... in all of it's acorn-sized glory. "awww... how cute," she responded... although all I could think was, "well that's not the response he'll be looking for later in life... I hope it grows!" No wonder he was hiding it! "Hey ma! Couldn't ya wait 'til it's done cooking before ya show all the world my twig and berries??" Oh... he has no clue... b/c not only did he give us a clear shot, but it's in 3D, both black & white AND color photos, and in 4D on video. I'm warning ya kid... bring home a girl Mommy doesn't like, and out comes the footage! Oh... how fun it was to show all the women in the family.... OMG it's so little!! tee hee hee," or "Uh oh, Den.... hope he doesn't take after you!! Tee he he," or "awww it looks JUST like a little acorn!! Tee he he." Den.... on the other hand, wasn't so quick to show anyone those photos. Although, I must defend.... if he takes after his father, then fear not.... fear not at all..... reeeeeally not at all.... (okay, did I do it justice yet?). But honestly.... is it always that tiny?? I mean, I know he's like a total of 5 lbs, but his darn feet were like.... 10 times the size of it. And call me stupid, but I half expected it to be circumcised already. It actually stunned me for a minute to see that it wasn't.... then the fog lifted (from my brain). "Oh yeahhhhh...." (insert light bulb).
So, the 45 minute session was not just comprised of various angles of the acorn. We did get to see some pretty cute footage of his face, although he had the umbilical cord right in front of his nose the whole time, no matter how much I jumped up and down. In the few clear images we got, we did get to see that he has the cutest little button nose, and chubby cheeks just like his big sis, Ali, and he even smiled (or so I'm calling it that) and seems to have DIMPLES!! I know, I know.... probably not true, but it's fun to pretend. And of course, the baby that never sleeps (ever) decided to make that 45 minute session, his nap time. It would be that way, wouldn't it. Sooo... despite being 95 degrees, it was an awesome experience and totally worth the 200 bucks! The only thing that pissed me off (b/c I have to throw in some negative with all this positive crap) was that they didn't take any measurements or do any sort of medical ANYTHING because "they're not a medical facility." Hey, couldn't ya just say.... "looks like he's about 5lbs" or "all his measurements look pretty on target," Just give me SOMETHING to take home... ANYTHING. But I guess we can thank the sue-happy American culture that has become so paranoid that things like "birth control does not prevent or treat STD's" had to be said or someone would be stupid enough to sue b/c it doesn't. All in all... it was awesome (yeah, I know... I said that already).
Next up to do before this pregnancy is over: Get professional belly pics taken. Real photo-shoot, here I come!
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
More Random Thoughts From a Pregnant Mind....
Okay, so here's some of the things I've come up with today....
What is it that takes a guy so damn long to POOP?!?! Seriously? I ask my hub all the time, but he can never give me an explaination. He says,.. "I just poop". Well thank-you for that enlightenment, Den. Do they just sit there on the pot, letting the poop just FALL out of their butts? Do they not understand the idea of PUSHING?? I don't know A SINGLE woman who can sit on a toilet for 25 minutes just letting poop fall out, and I can only speak for myself, but I'm pretty sure we're all int he same boat when I say that if it takes longer than a minute for me to push out a turd, then there's something wrong (excluding any real illness). So, how does this thought have anything to do with pregnancy? Well.... first off... it's just how my mind is working at this stage in pregnancy and I'm at the point where I'm too large to do things like scale the side of the living room wall to turn on the power to the TV, and when the hub is taking a 25 minute crap, this poses a problem. Chop chop boy... you're needed for very important husband duties (like turning on the TV)No time for dawtling.... TEEN MOM IS ON! I actually went as far as yelling through the door, "PUSH!!!" So, to get back to how or why women are more efficient poopers? I draw my conclusion from the natural instinct to push. I think b/c we're the baby carriers, and the only genetically engrained way for us to get a baby out is to push, I feel that we take that instict and apply it to other things that need to come out. Not to mention that women are just more efficient and usually have a million other things to do and pooping is not really at the top of the list... in fact, it's more of an incovienience and a lot of times, if I could get away with skipping that part of my day, I would.... but oh no no, not a guy... it's like they set aside an hour of their day, look forward to it, do a count down, and plan the perfect pot-side reading material. Seriously??
Random thought #2: So, at this point in my pregnancy (almost 34 weeks), it's pretty obvious that I'm pregnant and not just fat. Well, my current career is in liquor sales which has me going in and out of bars, restaurants, and package stores all day, everyday.... as well as usually carting in (and out) open bottles of booze in order to sample my customers. So, picture this: 8 1/2 month pregnant woman walking down the strip with a bottle in each hand, going in and out of the local bars at 10am in the morning on a Wednesday. Yeah.... I get some pretty nasty looks. Can I wear a sign that says, "just doing my job" er.... well, that might not work.... then I might be precieved as a prostitute.... um, how 'bout, "Not buying, just selling"... um,... okay that's not much better. Pretty much, I have no way of looking like I'm not a pickling my baby... I'm surprised that I haven't had one of those anti-abortion crazed born agains run up to me and take the bottles out my hands and condemn me to hell... OR a call from social services. Then there's my Friday meetings... which usually start off with a good verbal lashing leaving us all with mental scars and a thirst for our sample bottles, followed by every wine and liquor supplier we have making a powerpoint presentation on how THEIR new vodka is the next Grey Goose and the only way to get through each Friday is to drink the gallons of samples they put in front of you.... It never fails, every Friday, even though everyone's known I've been pregnant for about oh, I don't know, 6 months... Every Friday, there is at least one sample drink joke. Oh hah hah hah... it's just SOOO funny, now that you mention it, I AM pregnant... who knew?!! It's just so funny when, for the 87th time, you "pretend" to pour me a full glass or put the bottle in front of me, then laugh about how much it sucks that I can't actually drink it. Yeah, funny. Almost as funny as the DD jokes. One friday, I'm going to fill up an empty vodka bottle with water and just CHUG it in front of everyone and just watch their jaws drop. Which brings me to ANOTHER thought.... Why is it that every person you come in contact with, no matter how NOT well you know them, has an opinion on how you're supposed to be pregnant. Like, GOD forbid you have a coffee cup in front of you... You're going to hell and every MALE you see that day will tell you so... (do they know about decaf??) or how DARE you take a sip of that wine!!! What a horrible mother!! Everyone has an opinion on how YOU should carry YOUR baby.... drives me nuts! Oh, I'm sorry, I didin't know I was carrying your child... but instead of saying anything, (in the work place, of course) I just laugh and say... "oh you're so right" or "it's just decaf, don't worry". And ya know another thing that really bothers me, and maybe this one is just my hormomes, but I have to mention it... How every SINGLE person you see, talk to, or even email wants to know how you're feeling. "How are you feeling??" "How's the pregnancy going??" "How are you feeling","How are you feeling", "how are you feeling?" AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!! I'm pregnant doofus... I feel fat, moody and right now, pissed off that I have to answer this question for the 29th time today! Ya know, I was just thinking,.... I hope someone comes up and asks me how i'm feeling today...b/c I really want to smile and say, "large (fake laugh fake laugh fake laugh)" or "wonderful (fake laugh fake laugh fake laugh)" or "oh, you know... ready to be done (fake chuckle fake chuckle fake chuckle)". Seriously, do you really want to know?? I feel like a whale, my ass hurts from holding back farts in public all day long, my bladder is the size of a walnut, and my vagina is so engorged it looks like the baby is crowning.... did you really want to know that?? My guess is no, so STFU and stop asking me! Or how about this question, "Are you guys excited??" Um.... no not at all, in fact we're totally dreding it... don't want this damn thing, but was too afraid of the anti-abortion crazed born agains outside the clinic to take care of it.... Seriously?? Of COURSE we're excited, but the excitement is dwindling evey time I have to answer that stupid question. Oh.. and this is my favorite (and Jess, I have to give you credit for this one) when someone asks, "so were you guys trying?" Do you really want to know that? C'mon. Do you know how babies are made or do I need to bring you to 9th grade health class again? Either way you look at it... that's awkward to answer. It's either No, we just bang like monkeys so much that it was bound to happen... also, we don't like the feelings of condoms and birth control makes me a bitch so it's the pull 'n pray methond for us.... except we do more praying than pulling, or Yes, in fact we tried REEEEEEEALLY hard for a REEEALLY long time and we tried everywhere we could think of.... in fact, that kitchen table you're eating off of... we even tried there. See, now did you really want to know that? Oh... the joys. People who are not pregnant, please take my advice... think before speaking, b/c just b/c we're knocked up doesn't mean we've lost ALL of our dignity (that is, until labor, then forget it... it all goes right out the window).
What is it that takes a guy so damn long to POOP?!?! Seriously? I ask my hub all the time, but he can never give me an explaination. He says,.. "I just poop". Well thank-you for that enlightenment, Den. Do they just sit there on the pot, letting the poop just FALL out of their butts? Do they not understand the idea of PUSHING?? I don't know A SINGLE woman who can sit on a toilet for 25 minutes just letting poop fall out, and I can only speak for myself, but I'm pretty sure we're all int he same boat when I say that if it takes longer than a minute for me to push out a turd, then there's something wrong (excluding any real illness). So, how does this thought have anything to do with pregnancy? Well.... first off... it's just how my mind is working at this stage in pregnancy and I'm at the point where I'm too large to do things like scale the side of the living room wall to turn on the power to the TV, and when the hub is taking a 25 minute crap, this poses a problem. Chop chop boy... you're needed for very important husband duties (like turning on the TV)No time for dawtling.... TEEN MOM IS ON! I actually went as far as yelling through the door, "PUSH!!!" So, to get back to how or why women are more efficient poopers? I draw my conclusion from the natural instinct to push. I think b/c we're the baby carriers, and the only genetically engrained way for us to get a baby out is to push, I feel that we take that instict and apply it to other things that need to come out. Not to mention that women are just more efficient and usually have a million other things to do and pooping is not really at the top of the list... in fact, it's more of an incovienience and a lot of times, if I could get away with skipping that part of my day, I would.... but oh no no, not a guy... it's like they set aside an hour of their day, look forward to it, do a count down, and plan the perfect pot-side reading material. Seriously??
Random thought #2: So, at this point in my pregnancy (almost 34 weeks), it's pretty obvious that I'm pregnant and not just fat. Well, my current career is in liquor sales which has me going in and out of bars, restaurants, and package stores all day, everyday.... as well as usually carting in (and out) open bottles of booze in order to sample my customers. So, picture this: 8 1/2 month pregnant woman walking down the strip with a bottle in each hand, going in and out of the local bars at 10am in the morning on a Wednesday. Yeah.... I get some pretty nasty looks. Can I wear a sign that says, "just doing my job" er.... well, that might not work.... then I might be precieved as a prostitute.... um, how 'bout, "Not buying, just selling"... um,... okay that's not much better. Pretty much, I have no way of looking like I'm not a pickling my baby... I'm surprised that I haven't had one of those anti-abortion crazed born agains run up to me and take the bottles out my hands and condemn me to hell... OR a call from social services. Then there's my Friday meetings... which usually start off with a good verbal lashing leaving us all with mental scars and a thirst for our sample bottles, followed by every wine and liquor supplier we have making a powerpoint presentation on how THEIR new vodka is the next Grey Goose and the only way to get through each Friday is to drink the gallons of samples they put in front of you.... It never fails, every Friday, even though everyone's known I've been pregnant for about oh, I don't know, 6 months... Every Friday, there is at least one sample drink joke. Oh hah hah hah... it's just SOOO funny, now that you mention it, I AM pregnant... who knew?!! It's just so funny when, for the 87th time, you "pretend" to pour me a full glass or put the bottle in front of me, then laugh about how much it sucks that I can't actually drink it. Yeah, funny. Almost as funny as the DD jokes. One friday, I'm going to fill up an empty vodka bottle with water and just CHUG it in front of everyone and just watch their jaws drop. Which brings me to ANOTHER thought.... Why is it that every person you come in contact with, no matter how NOT well you know them, has an opinion on how you're supposed to be pregnant. Like, GOD forbid you have a coffee cup in front of you... You're going to hell and every MALE you see that day will tell you so... (do they know about decaf??) or how DARE you take a sip of that wine!!! What a horrible mother!! Everyone has an opinion on how YOU should carry YOUR baby.... drives me nuts! Oh, I'm sorry, I didin't know I was carrying your child... but instead of saying anything, (in the work place, of course) I just laugh and say... "oh you're so right" or "it's just decaf, don't worry". And ya know another thing that really bothers me, and maybe this one is just my hormomes, but I have to mention it... How every SINGLE person you see, talk to, or even email wants to know how you're feeling. "How are you feeling??" "How's the pregnancy going??" "How are you feeling","How are you feeling", "how are you feeling?" AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!! I'm pregnant doofus... I feel fat, moody and right now, pissed off that I have to answer this question for the 29th time today! Ya know, I was just thinking,.... I hope someone comes up and asks me how i'm feeling today...b/c I really want to smile and say, "large (fake laugh fake laugh fake laugh)" or "wonderful (fake laugh fake laugh fake laugh)" or "oh, you know... ready to be done (fake chuckle fake chuckle fake chuckle)". Seriously, do you really want to know?? I feel like a whale, my ass hurts from holding back farts in public all day long, my bladder is the size of a walnut, and my vagina is so engorged it looks like the baby is crowning.... did you really want to know that?? My guess is no, so STFU and stop asking me! Or how about this question, "Are you guys excited??" Um.... no not at all, in fact we're totally dreding it... don't want this damn thing, but was too afraid of the anti-abortion crazed born agains outside the clinic to take care of it.... Seriously?? Of COURSE we're excited, but the excitement is dwindling evey time I have to answer that stupid question. Oh.. and this is my favorite (and Jess, I have to give you credit for this one) when someone asks, "so were you guys trying?" Do you really want to know that? C'mon. Do you know how babies are made or do I need to bring you to 9th grade health class again? Either way you look at it... that's awkward to answer. It's either No, we just bang like monkeys so much that it was bound to happen... also, we don't like the feelings of condoms and birth control makes me a bitch so it's the pull 'n pray methond for us.... except we do more praying than pulling, or Yes, in fact we tried REEEEEEEALLY hard for a REEEALLY long time and we tried everywhere we could think of.... in fact, that kitchen table you're eating off of... we even tried there. See, now did you really want to know that? Oh... the joys. People who are not pregnant, please take my advice... think before speaking, b/c just b/c we're knocked up doesn't mean we've lost ALL of our dignity (that is, until labor, then forget it... it all goes right out the window).
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Annoyed and Pregnant
UHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.. wait.... UHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH UHHHHHHHHHHHHHH UHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. Ya know what?! I'm annoyed. Pissed off. Buttons pushed. And I just want to hit someone (Den's looking good at the moment). I'm getting kicked every other f'ing second, my inlaws are here and that means HORRIBLE TV throughout the entire time Ali is actually napping, and Den's just pissing me off.... he used all the f'ing eggs when I specifically asked him if we needed more yesterday while at the grocery store, but NOOOOOOO why should we do ALL the grocery shopping in one day if we can split it up into 5!!!!!! As a result I was unable to make my pregnancy-craved corn muffins b/c SOMEONE used every last f'ing egg to make pancakes this morning.... which he KNEW I didn't WANT!!!! UHHHHHHHHH! So now I'm hungry, pissed off b/c Den put on stupid snowmobiling when I left the remote control unguarded for a millisecond to check on OUR daughter who wouldn't go down for a nap, hot b/c well, I'm pregnant, uncomfortable b/c I'm getting kicked every other second, and GOD HELP this computer if it dies (like it's saying it will) before I'm done venting!!!!!!
Can I just say that snowmobiling is the STUPIDEST sport to watch on TV! It's second in line to nascar... in fact, all it is, is the winter version of nascar. And call me a bitch (which I totally am right now, I'll admit) but the only entertaining part of watching this stupid sport on TV is when someone crashes. So here I am, putting on my "happy face" for the inlaws while I scour at this computer screen in my mind, and pretend to LIKE wasting my precious hour, two hours tops, when I have no Ali responsibilities. UH! If Den only knew the horrible thoughts I am thinking about him at this very moment.... good thing he's not too good with the telepathy thing. Although, if he was, then I could tell him that his balls are going to be in a knot as soon as his parents leave for DARING to change the TV channel while Ali is napping! Or I could've told him that he better get his ass out the door and into the car to get me some flippin' eggs so that I can make my corn muffins or he can kiss ANY sort of sex life good bye! Okay,,..."hopes" of a sex life.
And ya know what baby in my belly?!! I've had just about enough of your kick boxing sessions every single time I sit down! Do you have any idea how it feels to be kicked in the liver or have a foot shoved under your rib cage? Seriously kid, you're in for it when you get out... I swear to GoD! Mommy's gonna take kickboxing lessons and when you come out we'll see how you like it! Well, maybe not right away, but you just wait until your teenage years when I can just claim self defense.
Watch out.. no one is exempt from this mood swing. Consider this your official warning.
Can I just say that snowmobiling is the STUPIDEST sport to watch on TV! It's second in line to nascar... in fact, all it is, is the winter version of nascar. And call me a bitch (which I totally am right now, I'll admit) but the only entertaining part of watching this stupid sport on TV is when someone crashes. So here I am, putting on my "happy face" for the inlaws while I scour at this computer screen in my mind, and pretend to LIKE wasting my precious hour, two hours tops, when I have no Ali responsibilities. UH! If Den only knew the horrible thoughts I am thinking about him at this very moment.... good thing he's not too good with the telepathy thing. Although, if he was, then I could tell him that his balls are going to be in a knot as soon as his parents leave for DARING to change the TV channel while Ali is napping! Or I could've told him that he better get his ass out the door and into the car to get me some flippin' eggs so that I can make my corn muffins or he can kiss ANY sort of sex life good bye! Okay,,..."hopes" of a sex life.
And ya know what baby in my belly?!! I've had just about enough of your kick boxing sessions every single time I sit down! Do you have any idea how it feels to be kicked in the liver or have a foot shoved under your rib cage? Seriously kid, you're in for it when you get out... I swear to GoD! Mommy's gonna take kickboxing lessons and when you come out we'll see how you like it! Well, maybe not right away, but you just wait until your teenage years when I can just claim self defense.
Watch out.. no one is exempt from this mood swing. Consider this your official warning.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Squirt Squirt
Since my last post had to do with bodily functions, I figured I'd stay with the theme. Since this is my second pregnancy, I have had the privilege of having more than a crustie here or there inside my bra... oh no, I've got the full on ability to SQUIRT! I'm talking milk, in case you were confused.... and BOY... is it FUN! Haha! Right now, I feel like a child with a new toy... I squirt every chance I get. I also quite resemble a pit bull marking it's territory. It goes a little something like this.... MY dresser (squirt),.. MY vanity (squirt),... MY pillow (squirt)... oops.. that's Den's pillow (hehe... squirt squirt).... MY hubby (Squirrrrrrrrrrrt)... okay so maybe Den doesn't exactly share in my amusement on this topic (which only makes me love to do it more and more). In fact, he can't STAND it!! He gets SO angry when I squirt him, that he yells and fits like a 2 year old. Now-a-days, when he sees me coming and I'm topless,.... he starts to scream "no! no! no!" and runs in the opposite direction (Unfortunately for him, my distance is approaching the 5 foot mark). You'd think wife + topless would not provoke this type of reaction. What? I can't squirt my own hubby?? He swears there are still milk stains on Ali's dresser from the first discovery of my milk guns. He also says that he shutters to think what I would do if I had a penis. Oh, the things I can think of. I'm still working on being able to write my name.... somewhere. Anyway... this is just a preview of more to come, I mean heck... I'm not even breast feeding yet. If this is your first pregnancy, you likely won't experience this fun way to annoy your hubby until after delivery, when your milk "comes in." Once it does, you'll feel kind of like you've got bowling balls for boobs... or kind of like what happens to a hot dog when you microwave it, how it gets so full and plump it eventually bursts out of it's casing... yeah, that's what your boobs will feel like every morning (at the very least) until you have a chance to pump, breastfeed, or,,..... or squirt. And the milk will keep on comin'... so every couple hours, conveniently, you'll have to do it all over again. So now... as if you don't have gross shit coming out of enough orifices, you get to add "boobies" to the list of things to plug. Oh yeah... maxi pads for your boobs, that don't have any wings to protect leakage... so don't wear any good shirts at this point b/c you're more than likely going to have a stray nipple quirt here or there. The worst is in the morning... picture this: You wake from a whole hour and a half stretch of sleep,.... baby's screaming b/c he/she is hungry,... you rise to your feet and about 2 milliseconds later, the bowling balls go falling for the floor as if they were being pulled by a magnet, the hot dog's casing bursts, and the milk guns are on automatic discharge.... Before you even reach your screaming bundle of joy, you've soaked through not just the top portion of your shirt, but the entire thing.... and with in another 2 milliseconds, your shirt begins to drip like a leaky faucet b/c it's so full of breast milk... oh.. and don't you DARE touch them, they'll likely explode if you do, leaving you with a trail of milk drippings that follow your every step. Eventually, you'll get the little one attached to your nipples like the jaws of life, and soon your mind will wander to places only a new mother could imagine leaving you to forget about your soaking wet shirt.... and, it dries. Not that bad, your thinking, right? WRONG! It doesn't dry like water dries... it dries like liquid lollipop.... HARD! You will then have a shirt that you can break in two if you attempt to bend it. Once again... no biggie if you're all alone with your newborn, I mean... he/she doesn't care, but remember what I said about those stray nipple squirts? Yeah... not so fun when you have hard, milk polka dots on your shirt in public.
Ah... the joys of motherhood. Yet another thing to add to the list of wonderful womanly wonders. Now... how fun would a milk-squirting contest be??? Anyone??? Anyone??
Ah... the joys of motherhood. Yet another thing to add to the list of wonderful womanly wonders. Now... how fun would a milk-squirting contest be??? Anyone??? Anyone??
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Love Juice and Snow Covered Mountains
Okay... This is my warning to all men who may be reading this blog. Go visit ESPN.com or something b/c this is way too much information and may actually scar you for life. But hey, I decided... if I'm going to do this thing, I'm going to do it 100% truthful. So, this is what today's events brought... or should I say, prevented.
I LOVE Spraytans! Can't get enough of 'em. In fact, I travel a good 25 minutes out of my way every week, just so I can stand in my skivvies (or should I say undies and pasties that no longer cover even half of my enlarged nipples) and get sprayed by a middle-aged hippie who talks to fast to understand (He's really a good guy, I must add... and a master of his craft). What can I say? It's totally worth it!! For 20 bucks I get about 50 extra self confidence points that lasts a good 4 days before I slump back down to my normal pregnancy lack of self confidence. So, I usually make this a Thursday, after-work ritual leaving me primed for the weekend, but today I learned an important lesson. I learned to always carry an extra pair of undies.... or you might end up having to skip the spray tan due to what I'm going to call... a pregnancy pit stain.... and I'm not talking about your ARM pits (Told ya boys... you don't want to read this). Why is it that so much stuff can come from something that is so small? and Where the hell is it all coming from?? I mean, don't we need to leave some up there as cushioning for the baby?? So, of course,... this isn't the first time during the pregnancy that this has happened.... in fact, it happens daily, but not usually to the extent it did today... leaving a wet spot that would've definitely been cause for a very awkward conversation.... "Hey... what's that on your underwear that looks like the shape of Florida??" "Oh... that's just the baby blowing his nose.." Yeeeeah... not something I wanted to go through... especially when there are positions you have to stand in while getting sprayed, that aren't the most flattering to begin with. I'm about to start wearing two layers of undies! Do they make something that can reduce the amount of spooge that comes out... ya know, like prescription anti-perspirant, but for your vagina?? I'd totally buy it! Oh.. and don't forget the lovely melvins you get as a result of the love juice being the consistency of superglue... causing your under garments to stick to whatever it touches... I'm getting nervous I'll look down one day and see my pants lodged up somewhere they don't belong leaving the infamous camel toe for all to see. Seriously.... the things we put up with! And don't forget the fact that "grooming" that area had become next to impossible. I mean, it's like a blind person trying to drive... but, this is where a good hubby will come in handy (ew... I know, but it's necessary) Your other option is, of course, to let in grow like the amazon.... now mix in the love juice, and you've got a Jersey Shore boy's hair do inside your underpants! Oh and it's only going to get better with time.. I mean, there's still pissing yourself to look forward too! God forbid you sneeze in public! No wonder it's so taboo to have a baby out of wed-lock.... b/c no man in their right minds would stick around for all this crap unless he was legally bound! Not exactly what I was picturing while I was making the baby.
Now... should I go into the nipple deformities and milky discharge?? Well, if you're still reading at this point, it's probably b/c you've experienced it all so why not...
Ya know what I can't stand?? I can't stand watching the victoria secret commercials where they advertise their latest "sexy" bra.... and put it on what I'm telling myself is a digitally composed women with intense air brushing (b/c I can't bare the thought that that woman actually walks this earth... b/c it's just not fair) while I look down at two mountains that can't even be recognized as "breasts" anymore b/c there are so many damn veins popping out like rivers on a topography map... and my nipples are so large that they look like discolored tops of snow covered mountains... and then there's the whole fact that they have crusties... like you get in the corner of your eye when you wake up, but much more disgusting b/c once you peel them away, watery milk drips out. Oh yeah.... I'm gonna go out and spend 50 bucks on a bra that holds one nipple put together so that I can soak it with my boob juice and those nasty blue veins and stretch marks can be lifted up that much closer to my eyes so that there's NO way I could miss them.... yeah. Or... it just reminds me that no amount of "sexy" in a bra will help the fact that when this is all said and done, my snow covered mountains with blue rivers will be come deflated parade balloons that hang closer to my belly button than my chin and eventually take the shape of bananas. Pushing them up won't do a thing when they're like watery jello... spilling out of all the wrong places and those cute little quarter sized nipples that once were pointing straight ahead, are now the remnants of an infant's chew toy that haven't seen the light of day b/c they point so far south. So... yeah... those commercials piss me off. Go have a baby and then walk around in your "sexy" bra. Oh who am I kidding??? Those computer composed, heavily airbrushed, fake women probably pop right back... Does anyone know how I can get some of that? Or,,.... is that what a boob job is for?
I LOVE Spraytans! Can't get enough of 'em. In fact, I travel a good 25 minutes out of my way every week, just so I can stand in my skivvies (or should I say undies and pasties that no longer cover even half of my enlarged nipples) and get sprayed by a middle-aged hippie who talks to fast to understand (He's really a good guy, I must add... and a master of his craft). What can I say? It's totally worth it!! For 20 bucks I get about 50 extra self confidence points that lasts a good 4 days before I slump back down to my normal pregnancy lack of self confidence. So, I usually make this a Thursday, after-work ritual leaving me primed for the weekend, but today I learned an important lesson. I learned to always carry an extra pair of undies.... or you might end up having to skip the spray tan due to what I'm going to call... a pregnancy pit stain.... and I'm not talking about your ARM pits (Told ya boys... you don't want to read this). Why is it that so much stuff can come from something that is so small? and Where the hell is it all coming from?? I mean, don't we need to leave some up there as cushioning for the baby?? So, of course,... this isn't the first time during the pregnancy that this has happened.... in fact, it happens daily, but not usually to the extent it did today... leaving a wet spot that would've definitely been cause for a very awkward conversation.... "Hey... what's that on your underwear that looks like the shape of Florida??" "Oh... that's just the baby blowing his nose.." Yeeeeah... not something I wanted to go through... especially when there are positions you have to stand in while getting sprayed, that aren't the most flattering to begin with. I'm about to start wearing two layers of undies! Do they make something that can reduce the amount of spooge that comes out... ya know, like prescription anti-perspirant, but for your vagina?? I'd totally buy it! Oh.. and don't forget the lovely melvins you get as a result of the love juice being the consistency of superglue... causing your under garments to stick to whatever it touches... I'm getting nervous I'll look down one day and see my pants lodged up somewhere they don't belong leaving the infamous camel toe for all to see. Seriously.... the things we put up with! And don't forget the fact that "grooming" that area had become next to impossible. I mean, it's like a blind person trying to drive... but, this is where a good hubby will come in handy (ew... I know, but it's necessary) Your other option is, of course, to let in grow like the amazon.... now mix in the love juice, and you've got a Jersey Shore boy's hair do inside your underpants! Oh and it's only going to get better with time.. I mean, there's still pissing yourself to look forward too! God forbid you sneeze in public! No wonder it's so taboo to have a baby out of wed-lock.... b/c no man in their right minds would stick around for all this crap unless he was legally bound! Not exactly what I was picturing while I was making the baby.
Now... should I go into the nipple deformities and milky discharge?? Well, if you're still reading at this point, it's probably b/c you've experienced it all so why not...
Ya know what I can't stand?? I can't stand watching the victoria secret commercials where they advertise their latest "sexy" bra.... and put it on what I'm telling myself is a digitally composed women with intense air brushing (b/c I can't bare the thought that that woman actually walks this earth... b/c it's just not fair) while I look down at two mountains that can't even be recognized as "breasts" anymore b/c there are so many damn veins popping out like rivers on a topography map... and my nipples are so large that they look like discolored tops of snow covered mountains... and then there's the whole fact that they have crusties... like you get in the corner of your eye when you wake up, but much more disgusting b/c once you peel them away, watery milk drips out. Oh yeah.... I'm gonna go out and spend 50 bucks on a bra that holds one nipple put together so that I can soak it with my boob juice and those nasty blue veins and stretch marks can be lifted up that much closer to my eyes so that there's NO way I could miss them.... yeah. Or... it just reminds me that no amount of "sexy" in a bra will help the fact that when this is all said and done, my snow covered mountains with blue rivers will be come deflated parade balloons that hang closer to my belly button than my chin and eventually take the shape of bananas. Pushing them up won't do a thing when they're like watery jello... spilling out of all the wrong places and those cute little quarter sized nipples that once were pointing straight ahead, are now the remnants of an infant's chew toy that haven't seen the light of day b/c they point so far south. So... yeah... those commercials piss me off. Go have a baby and then walk around in your "sexy" bra. Oh who am I kidding??? Those computer composed, heavily airbrushed, fake women probably pop right back... Does anyone know how I can get some of that? Or,,.... is that what a boob job is for?
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Poor hubby... random thoughts from a pregnant mind
I don't really have a specific topic to write about, so I'm just going to see where this goes. Last night while typing about nesting with my intermittent views of my eyelids, I had so many good things to write... and I thought to myself, "I'll totally remember them... I can just do it tomorrow." Um.... yeeeah. I'm sure you can tell that didn't happen.
Which brings me to random thought # 1) I now share an attention span with my 18 month old daughter, Ali. I'm sure, if evaluated, I would clearly be medicated for severe ADHD. Forget watching a movie... I'm concentrating on finishing conversations. My favorite is when I get distracted by.... oh, I don't know... a floating dust bunny,... and forget what it was I was talking about mid-sentence. That happened to me today while trying to discuss the current economic state with one of my very knowledgeable and distinguished male package store owners. I paused.... tried to pick up where I left off, and ended up repeating the same word 3 times while using it incorrectly in my non-sentence. He just looked at me and smiled.... but I know he was thinking I was a total ding bat. Serves me right for trying to talk about the economy... which I only know 2 facts about as it is.
Random thought # 2) My poor hubby... He gets run over by the hormonal roller coaster daily. Like,... last night, I was eating M&M's out of a large candy jar (jar filled 3/4 of the way). There was clearly enough for an entire soccer team in there, but yet when my hubby asked me to put the jar between us (as opposed to on my left, where he couldn't reach it), I got annoyed. Then... as if I were a starving dog protecting it's last 3 kibbles, I got annoyed whenever he actually stuck his hand in the jar to get some M&Ms... and not just b/c he was depleting my scarce supply...... But more so because I had to wait the 1 and a half seconds it took for him to take a handful. I actually got annoyed b/c I had to wait for him to get his hand out of the jar before I could shove the next handful in my mouth.... and i wasn't even done chewing what I had!! As hard as I try NOT to have these crazy thoughts... they just come barreling on through my brain like a tsunami... and of course, at this point, I've lost all control of my "emotional filter"... you know, that thing that prevents your brow from furrowing and your eyes from turning into daggers every time you have a bad flow of emotion.... yeah, that's gone, so of course.... my brow furrowed and my eyes turned into Hattori Hanzo swords at the mere sight of his big hand going anywhere NEAR that jar of M&M's.... poor guy... he had no idea what he did, and of course,... there's not rational way to explain this, so I just grunted, said nothing and let him look at me with confusion.... which also, annoyed me. Then five minutes later I made him rub my back (insert big cheese smile). He's so good though... he never complains. Were the roles reversed... he'd be on the street!
Random thought # 3) Speaking of the hubby.... he is totally, absolutely, never allowed to FART EVER AGAIN! They stink and it makes me want to puke and for whatever reason they have the staying power of super glue! (I just have to mention that I had a totally different thing in mind to write down and I got distracted by a horrific noise coming from my hubby's ass followed by the worst smell you could ever imagine and of course..... I forgot.) Which leads me to think.... he really isn't allowed to do any normal, bodily function... in fact... I'm pretty sure I expect him to turn them all off until this baby is born. No farting, NO NO NO pooping, no burping, no falling asleep before me, no eating anything unless I want to eat it, no eating anything I want to eat, no kissing me or touching me unless I tell him to (and by tell him, I mean telepathically), no watching TV/movies that I don't pick, no hanging up the phone until I'm done with the conversation (no matter what work matter comes up), no calling me when I'm busy (again.. he should know that by my telepathic vibes) and OH... ABSOLUTELY NO SNORING (snoring is cause for possible spousal abuse)! Pregnancy hormones make me a little, um...... well, crazy. Okay.... most of these things are just thoughts, but like I said,... the filter is gone, so I'm sure he picks up on it. So... how does he do it? And still manage to do nice things for me like... turn on the burner when I think I'm boiling water, but really have no idea that it's not turned on (yeah,... I would've waited a while before figuring out, that's just where I'm at right now)... or plug in my cell phone when I let it die in my purse.... or how about just not slug me back when I smack him in the face for snoring (because.... he's totally doing it on purpose!) He's a helluva guy, I tell ya.... but he knows that... I tell him all the time (telepathically, of course).
Okay... to be continued... I'm looking at my eyelids again.
Which brings me to random thought # 1) I now share an attention span with my 18 month old daughter, Ali. I'm sure, if evaluated, I would clearly be medicated for severe ADHD. Forget watching a movie... I'm concentrating on finishing conversations. My favorite is when I get distracted by.... oh, I don't know... a floating dust bunny,... and forget what it was I was talking about mid-sentence. That happened to me today while trying to discuss the current economic state with one of my very knowledgeable and distinguished male package store owners. I paused.... tried to pick up where I left off, and ended up repeating the same word 3 times while using it incorrectly in my non-sentence. He just looked at me and smiled.... but I know he was thinking I was a total ding bat. Serves me right for trying to talk about the economy... which I only know 2 facts about as it is.
Random thought # 2) My poor hubby... He gets run over by the hormonal roller coaster daily. Like,... last night, I was eating M&M's out of a large candy jar (jar filled 3/4 of the way). There was clearly enough for an entire soccer team in there, but yet when my hubby asked me to put the jar between us (as opposed to on my left, where he couldn't reach it), I got annoyed. Then... as if I were a starving dog protecting it's last 3 kibbles, I got annoyed whenever he actually stuck his hand in the jar to get some M&Ms... and not just b/c he was depleting my scarce supply...... But more so because I had to wait the 1 and a half seconds it took for him to take a handful. I actually got annoyed b/c I had to wait for him to get his hand out of the jar before I could shove the next handful in my mouth.... and i wasn't even done chewing what I had!! As hard as I try NOT to have these crazy thoughts... they just come barreling on through my brain like a tsunami... and of course, at this point, I've lost all control of my "emotional filter"... you know, that thing that prevents your brow from furrowing and your eyes from turning into daggers every time you have a bad flow of emotion.... yeah, that's gone, so of course.... my brow furrowed and my eyes turned into Hattori Hanzo swords at the mere sight of his big hand going anywhere NEAR that jar of M&M's.... poor guy... he had no idea what he did, and of course,... there's not rational way to explain this, so I just grunted, said nothing and let him look at me with confusion.... which also, annoyed me. Then five minutes later I made him rub my back (insert big cheese smile). He's so good though... he never complains. Were the roles reversed... he'd be on the street!
Random thought # 3) Speaking of the hubby.... he is totally, absolutely, never allowed to FART EVER AGAIN! They stink and it makes me want to puke and for whatever reason they have the staying power of super glue! (I just have to mention that I had a totally different thing in mind to write down and I got distracted by a horrific noise coming from my hubby's ass followed by the worst smell you could ever imagine and of course..... I forgot.) Which leads me to think.... he really isn't allowed to do any normal, bodily function... in fact... I'm pretty sure I expect him to turn them all off until this baby is born. No farting, NO NO NO pooping, no burping, no falling asleep before me, no eating anything unless I want to eat it, no eating anything I want to eat, no kissing me or touching me unless I tell him to (and by tell him, I mean telepathically), no watching TV/movies that I don't pick, no hanging up the phone until I'm done with the conversation (no matter what work matter comes up), no calling me when I'm busy (again.. he should know that by my telepathic vibes) and OH... ABSOLUTELY NO SNORING (snoring is cause for possible spousal abuse)! Pregnancy hormones make me a little, um...... well, crazy. Okay.... most of these things are just thoughts, but like I said,... the filter is gone, so I'm sure he picks up on it. So... how does he do it? And still manage to do nice things for me like... turn on the burner when I think I'm boiling water, but really have no idea that it's not turned on (yeah,... I would've waited a while before figuring out, that's just where I'm at right now)... or plug in my cell phone when I let it die in my purse.... or how about just not slug me back when I smack him in the face for snoring (because.... he's totally doing it on purpose!) He's a helluva guy, I tell ya.... but he knows that... I tell him all the time (telepathically, of course).
Okay... to be continued... I'm looking at my eyelids again.
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Psycho Nesting
Well, here I am... officially in the last trimester of this lovely adventure called pregnancy. I am just about 30 weeks (rounding up, of course) and I no longer can form anything except simple sentences, I'm farting like a frat guy (or Alpha girl hah), and there are only two things on my mind at all times: Eating and cleaning. If I'm eating.... which there's a good chance I am, then I'm thinking about cleaning... and if I'm cleaning, well, I'm usually eating at the same time. The eating, I'm telling myself, is completely fine.... it's not ME with the insatiable appetite for sugar coated sugar, it's the baby, and the cleaning is just part of the amazing phenomenon called, "nesting." Anyone who has had the pleasure of living with a woman in her third trimester of pregnancy knows that the nesting instinct is both a blessing and a curse. All of the sudden, you have this uncontrollable urge to clean, disinfect, and organize all at the same time and often times, this urge takes priority over everything.... including your basic needs, like sleep (not so much the eating, tnough). At first, you're cleaning normal things and your spouse might think... "hey, this is great!" The dishes are always done, there's no clutter on the kitchen table, the laundry is neatly folded... but slowly (or very abruptly) the urge takes on a life of it's own and you start to clean between the tiles on the bathroom floor with a q-tip or the air vent at the bottom of the refrigerator. You skip movie nights with your hubby to clean and disinfect every cabinet knob in the house and even an opportunity for a foot rub won't make you stop wiping the base boards. Organization also becomes an obsession and simply neatly stacking the towels in the linen closet will no longer do... oh, no no no.... they must now be folded EXACTLY the same way with the same edge on each towel facing out and be color coordinated, of course. Every project or craft that you have ever started or thought about must now be finished... for me it included printing out 500+ digital photos and organizing them, chronologically, in albums sorted by event or finishing Ali's baby book which I let sit on the shelf for the last 18 months. Also on my list is to paint a scene on Ali's wall... a design on the bathroom door, and refinish a table.
Now, I'm wondering how linen closet organization and refrigerator vent cleaning made it through evolution to our modern day genetic make-up..... because, I'm pretty sure that neither of those things will improve the life of my future child. I get that you're supposed to be "building your nest" in preparation for the baby's arrival, so that everything is all set and you can dedicate 100% of your attention to the baby and not anything else, but it seems to me that somewhere along the line, there must have been a genetic mutation and this nesting instinct got a little out of control. If I don't normally clean the air vent at the bottom of the fridge, then why are my instincts forcing me to do it now?? It gets a little ridiculous when you can't even drive down the road without thinking about cleaning out the bathroom drain. Now, if only I could bottle up the chemical inside my head that makes me the psycho cleaner and sell it on the street to lazy people and maid services,..... I'd be rich! Also, I wouldn't mind it in smaller doses... like, when I just need to get the laundry put away, I could take one dose and when I need to clean the entire house, I could take 2 or 3 doses.
It's pretty amazing the things our body is preprogrammed to do...things that we never learned or even knew about. It's pretty funny to see the way these things are expressed in modern day life. I'm sure that nesting had a whole different way of expressing itself in the cave women. But who knows, maybe they were thinking the same thing while they cleaned obsessively.... except instead of the refrigerator vent it was the crevices in the cave walls.
Okay, the eyes are shutting... off to dream of M&M's for dinner and clorox disinfecting wipes. Happy cleaning, pregos!
Now, I'm wondering how linen closet organization and refrigerator vent cleaning made it through evolution to our modern day genetic make-up..... because, I'm pretty sure that neither of those things will improve the life of my future child. I get that you're supposed to be "building your nest" in preparation for the baby's arrival, so that everything is all set and you can dedicate 100% of your attention to the baby and not anything else, but it seems to me that somewhere along the line, there must have been a genetic mutation and this nesting instinct got a little out of control. If I don't normally clean the air vent at the bottom of the fridge, then why are my instincts forcing me to do it now?? It gets a little ridiculous when you can't even drive down the road without thinking about cleaning out the bathroom drain. Now, if only I could bottle up the chemical inside my head that makes me the psycho cleaner and sell it on the street to lazy people and maid services,..... I'd be rich! Also, I wouldn't mind it in smaller doses... like, when I just need to get the laundry put away, I could take one dose and when I need to clean the entire house, I could take 2 or 3 doses.
It's pretty amazing the things our body is preprogrammed to do...things that we never learned or even knew about. It's pretty funny to see the way these things are expressed in modern day life. I'm sure that nesting had a whole different way of expressing itself in the cave women. But who knows, maybe they were thinking the same thing while they cleaned obsessively.... except instead of the refrigerator vent it was the crevices in the cave walls.
Okay, the eyes are shutting... off to dream of M&M's for dinner and clorox disinfecting wipes. Happy cleaning, pregos!
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