Thursday, February 25, 2010

TMI Thursday: Things no one tells you about labor and delivery.

I haven't done TMI Thursday in awhile, so I thought I would follow up Things no one tells you about being pregnant with a closer look at labor and delivery. Be sure to visit Lilu, the originator of TMI Thursday!

First of all, as predicted, my last TMI Thursday garnered my blog lots of hits from people searching for things like "sniffing panties" and "smells like pee." I am definitely proud. Secondly, I want to warn you that this one is gross, particularly if you have never had a baby. Like, for real, it's gross. So you may want to stop right here if you don't want to be scared away from giving birth.

Ok, if you're still with me, let me set the scene. I have just given birth to The Peanut, and I am both excited he's here and relieved I can stop pushing. Yay! After you pop your kid out, they set him on your tummy for a minute, but then they steal him back. They have to weigh him and do all kinds of invasive things to him. Oh, but they have a plan for you, too, mommy.

I was laying on the bed, trying in vain to see if my kid had all of his fingers and toes, when my doctor informs me he needs to stitch me up. Uh, what? I didn't have a C-section! My doctor explained that I had vaginal tearing that he needed to stitch up. I hadn't felt the tears because of my (sweet, sweet) epidural.

There are few things more embarrassing than lying on a table while someone puts stitches in your hoo-ha. While I am lying there trying to ignore what is going on, I look across the room. What's that big red thing on that table over there? Oh! THAT'S MY PLACENTA. Great. Someone is poking my girl junk with a needle while I stare at my own placenta. Nasty.

So the stitches are done, and my nurse tells me she needs to clean me up. That's more like it! I am pretty sweaty and gross after going through labor. She's not talking about scrubbing my pits, though. She proceeds to "clean up" my cha cha, doing God knows what down there, and I am so mortified. This is your job? To clean up beavs after women have given birth? I would be talking to my union or something.

So now that eighteen people have had fun with my girly parts, I finally get to hold my son. It's wonderful and magical and all the things you would expect. They take us up to our room, where I look forward to bonding with my son and maybe even getting some sleep!

Aha. Aha. Ahahahaha. I get up to the room and my new nurse informs me that I have to go pee. Into a cup that attaches to the toilet, so the nurse can measure my pee. Apparently I have to hit the magic pee number. Great. Awesome.

Here's the thing. I just had stitches. Down there. Drugs are wearing off. Pee is salty. I try to go, but my body just won't pee. It's like my bladder is saying, "Are you kidding? That is going to hurt!" I squeeze out a little bit of urine, but my nurse is not pleased.

To top it all off? I can't wipe. Instead, I have to use a squirt bottle full of warm water to clean off my stuff. Then, I have to spray my junk with a pain-relieving solution (I'm not really complaining about the spray; it was awesome. But it's still weird to spray what looks like a bottle of aerosol deodorant on your crotch). Finally, the nurse gave me some weird panties with a cool-pak to put in them.

After all of this, a nurse comes by every couple of hours to CHECK ON MY VAGINA. I have to lay on my side while she pulls down my gauze granny panties and checks my stitches and such. Again, this is your job? To inspect my damaged labia? Nurses, I don't care how much you make. You are underpaid and under appreciated.

Seriously, though, my nurses were the best and they took great care of me. I could not have asked for better. I felt so bad that they had to do things like measure my pee and check my stitches (and a bunch of other things I would never do), and they acted like it was no big deal and made me feel so comfortable. If you are a maternity nurse, you have my utmost respect. You people are angels from heaven.

As embarrassing and gross as all of this was, I had a great experience giving birth, and I can't wait to do it again. Crazy, isn't it?

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

I want to stab your face.

My employer thought it would be great to hire an intern. This intern would be helping me with some administrative tasks so I could focus on bigger projects.

"Great!" I said. "Do I get to choose my intern?"

No, I would not get to choose my intern. However, I was asked what characteristics I was looking for in an intern.

"Oh, that's easy! Someone who is hard-working and takes their job seriously, even if they are not exactly getting paid for it. Someone who is dedicated and reliable. Someone who is passionate about our cause."

Let me list for you the things about which my intern is passionate:

1. Going out to clubs and getting wasted on weeknights.

2. Coming to work late and hungover, complaining about how bright the lights are.

3. Calling in sick because she's throwing up and must have "the flu."

4. Not actually doing anything.

Listen, I know I am old and boring now, but I was young once. I liked going out and having fun as much as the next girl. I also understand that being an intern is not exciting. Eight hours a day of three hole punching can be mind numbing. I get all of that.

However, it is NOT OK to come to work still drunk. I am not stupid. You don't have the flu every week, sweetie, you have the jagerbombs. When I address your performance issues, the fact that work is interfering with your social life is not a valid excuse. Oh, and FYI, asking you to wake up when you're sleeping at your cubicle and drooling all over the desk doesn't make me mean. If I were mean, I would stab you in the face with my letter opener, as I have dreamed of so many times.

How have I restrained myself from jamming office supplies into her eyeballs? There is one thing - and one thing only - that has been getting me through. You see, my lovely intern is doing this internship for college credit, and guess who gets to evaluate her? That's right. Yours truly. My evaluation will help determine her final grade. In two weeks, I will get my retribution for having to listen to her throw up in her trash can every day.

If I can't have a competent intern, this is the next best thing.

Friday, February 19, 2010

Canadian bacon.

If I am highly unproductive and sleep deprived for the next couple of weeks, blame Canada. Specifically, blame Vancouver, home of the 2010 Winter Olympics.

I LOVE the Olympics. I watch everything, from ski jumping to luge to figure skating to moguls. Things that I don't care about for three years and fourty-nine weeks all of the sudden become incredibly important. I am patriotic and cheer for the American athletes, but I am also easily manipulated by NBC's athlete profiles, and will pull for anyone with a good backstory. Latvian snowboarder born with no feet now competing for gold? I'm all over that, and I'll cry when he wins.

Early in our relationship, the Hubs would complain about my Olympic obsession. That's right folks, the man who spent every weekend from September to February watching every football game possible could not fathom how I could be so into the Olympics for three weeks. Eventually, though, his love for all things competitive took over, and now he watches with me. He doesn't cry through every United States gold medal ceremony like I do, but I'll take what I can get.

Another great thing about the Olympics is the chance to form Olympic crushes. Apolo Ohno, anyone? And can we talk about the awesomeness that is Bob Costas? He's snarky, but at the same time respectful of the games and the athletes. And he's so tiny! He's like a Keebler elf, cooking up Olympic goodness in his magic tree.

And you can't have the Olympic games if you don't have some DRAMA. When a certain mouthy Russian figure skater gets beat by a completely AWESOME American skater? So satisfying! Speed skaters wiping out in the final lap? I'm on the edge of my seat. Shaun White does an amazing trick that he doesn't even NEED TO WIN? I AM PEEING IN MY PANTS!


Thank you, Winter Olympics, for being so awesome, and for giving me something to cheer about during the coldest, grayest time of the year.

On an unrelated note, I have been experimenting with emailing responses to my comments. Which means most of you have not been getting my responses. I think I've figured out a fix, but I apologize if you think I have been ignoring you! And thank you everyone for all of the kind words you've sent, both about my blog and about the pregnancy. You guys are as awesome as gold medal winning speed skater Shani Davis.

Thursday, February 18, 2010

Update on the two pink lines.

Yes, if you haven't figured it out, the good people at First Response tell me I am pregnant. My doctor has confirmed that to be true.

This is a good thing. A completely shocking thing, but a good thing.

Half of me is saying, "Yay! New baby! Cuteness and adorability and love love love!"

The other half of me is saying, "You are going to have two kids under the age of two. You have lost your effing mind."

A couple of months ago, we had what is called a chemical pregnancy, which is basically an early miscarriage. We hadn't been trying to conceive (we were actually trying NOT to!), but it was still kind of a tough loss. I had taken a pregnancy test the first day my period was late, and got a positive result. That night, I began bleeding and ended up losing the pregnancy.

This lead to a whole discussion with the Hubs about our chosen birth control methods, when and if we wanted more children, and how to proceed. It took us such a long time to conceive the Peanut, and we were sure it would take us just as long to conceive a second baby. We decided that once the Peanut was a year old, we would seriously start trying to conceive again. For right now we were just going to forgo birth control but not expect anything.

Well gee, what did I expect would happen?

All the same, I am excited and nervous for the Pumpkin to get here in the fall. The last miscarriage we had will make our second, so I am definitely nervous about making it through the first trimester. I would absolutely appreciate any prayers or kind thoughts you could send our way.

I have always been afraid of the "mommy blogger" label, because for me it conjures up visions of blogs with ugly layouts and graphic posts about breastfeeding and their child's bowel movements. But when I think about it, some of my favorite bloggers are moms! I mean, one of my favorite blogs of all time is Snarky Mommy, so I really need to get over it. I am a mom. I blog. This is a blog about my life, so obviously motherhood (and now pregnancy) is going to come up. I hope that you will all continue on this journey with me! But never fear, you will still get my in depth analysis of reality television on a regular basis.

I know that a lot of you who read this blog are not married with children, and I just want you to know how much I appreciate you guys reading and commenting on my crazy little life. I sometimes worry that I will bore you guys to death with my motherhood talk. My hope is that I can give you a little peak into something you haven't experienced yet, and maybe even give you something to relate to if you should end up where I am one day.

Ok, before this gets too "Very Special Episode of Blossom," let me just say that I love you all, and hope you will join me as we get ready for The Pumpkin - Coming this fall!

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

I'll take things that were completely unexpected for $100, Alex.

Friday, February 12, 2010

I promise I'm not an idiot.

Hubs: Did you hear? Clinton was in the hospital. He had two clogged arteries.

Me: What? Clinton Kelly? Oh no!

Hubs: Um, no. That would be BILL CLINTON, who used to be our PRESIDENT.

Me: Oh him.

Hubs: Sometimes you frighten me.


In other news, I would like to thank Cecilia at The Greenest Mermaid for the Happy Award!

I am supposed to list ten things that make me happy, but at the moment I am concerned with only two words that bring me happiness - THE OLYMPICS.

Oh, one other thing that brings me much happiness? Corresponding with the people who read my blog. Please hit me up on Twitter (@isuck_atthis) and don't hesitate to send me a gchat message if you see me online (ireallysuckatthis). And you can always do things the old fashioned way and email me at ireallysuckatthis (at) gmail (dot) com, or leave a comment. I don't always respond to my comments in a timely fashion (please see blog title), but I do respond eventually, and I value every single comment!

To pass on the love, I want to mention two blogs that I can't get enough of. I know I have said it before, but I LOVE Amber at Nostomanic. She's absolutely hilarious, and I kind of want to be her BFF. But not in a weird stalker way (I promise). Another blog that is relatively new to my Google Reader line up that I am really digging is Tracy on the Cheap. If there is one thing I am, it's cheap. I'm not nearly as stylish as Tracy, but her blog gives me hope. I have seen several things on her blog that I just have to have. I saw an amazing shirt on her site, and then almost cried when Conversation Pieces had sold out of my size. She's like my own personal Stacey and Clinton (but she doesn't make fun of my wardrobe!).

Tuesday, February 9, 2010

Birth control.

MTV has a couple of shows devoted to teenage mothers: 16 and Pregnant and the aptly named Teen Mom. Some people are afraid that these shows glamorize being a teen mom, and will make girls want to get pregnant. I don't really know if that is a valid concern, but in case you meet a teen with baby dreams, I ask that you direct them to the following:

Chronicles of a Pukey Baby

8:00 pm - The Peanut drinks a bottle. All is well with the world.

10:30 pm - The Peanut is happily playing in his Jumperoo, when all of the sudden: vomit volcano. The Jumperoo, the carpet, the dog, the baby, and everything within a five foot radius is covered in baby barf. He continued to jump while barfing for maximum distance.

10:30 and 30 seconds pm - Parental freak out. The Hubs decides to clean up the carpet while I handle the sick baby. He's trying to act like he's doing me a solid, but I know he's just afraid Mt. Vomsuvius will erupt again.

10:32 pm - The Peanut is laughing and smiling as I change him out of his puke wear, oblivious to the fact that he just emptied the contents of his stomach and smells like sour milk. I decide to put him in the tub.

10:40 pm - The Peanut is squealing and throwing his rubber duckie against the bathroom wall. Mommy is perplexed.

11:00 pm - The Peanut is sitting on the floor watching Barney when Upchuck: Round 2 begins.

11:05 pm - The Peanut falls asleep in my arms with a smile on his face.

12:00 am - I finally convince myself that he won't choke on his vomit in his sleep, and put him in his crib.

3:00 am - Finally fall asleep after three hours of checking on the baby and having a spazz attack every time I hear a noise on the baby monitor.

5:00 am - The Peanut wakes up, and he's hungry. Do I give him a bottle? Some Pedialyte (aka baby Gatorade)? I decide to just give him a bottle, which he takes happily. He then plays on the floor while I fight to stay awake.

5:50 am - The Peanut rolls over on his tummy, lifts up his head, and barfs all over the floor. He then goes back to playing with his toys.

5:51 am - I'm crying. I'm a horrible mother for giving him more formula. He's going to dehydrate and have to go to the hospital and it's all my fault. I wake up The Hubs and make him clean the carpet again while I strip the baby. Decide to leave him in his diaper. He laughs and plays, oblivious to the fact that he is dying and it's his stupid mother's fault.

6:00 am - Wrapped in my Snuggie, crying. Not even the glorious microplush can comfort me. I think all of these tears have something to do with the fact that I am sleep deprived.

8:00 am - The grandmothers have heard about the sickness. My mother-in-law stays sane and recommends I give him Pedialyte. My mother is convinced he has H1N1. I try to explain that not only was he vaccinated for H1N1, he actually has no symptoms of H1N1. She remains undaunted.

9:30 am - The Peanut drinks some Pedialyte without barfing. Success!

11:00 am - I inform The Hubs that I am taking a nap.

11:30 am - By this point, Hubs has come into the bedroom THREE TIMES to ask me stupid questions that COULD WAIT UNTIL I HAVE HAD SOME FRICKING SLEEP!

11:31 am - I may or may not have screamed "I AM NOT HERE! I DO NOT EXIST! PRETEND I HAVE DIED FOR THE NEXT FOUR HOURS!" at my husband. Oops.

3:30 pm - The Peanut has had more liquids without puking, and my dehydration fears are starting to be put to rest.

9:00 pm - THE TEST: We give him a real bottle.

12:00 am - Contents of bottle have stayed where they belong. No more pukies!

Ok, 16 year olds, still want a baby? Keep in mind that you probably don't have a nice husband who will clean up puke.

Friday, February 5, 2010

The part where I suck at blogging.


Life has just exploded in my face. Work, home, work, work, baby, work, husband, work. I haven't responded to my comments. I haven't left comments on the blogs I've read. I haven't tweeted in I don't know how long. If you wonder where my blog title comes from? This is it.

However, due to the crap ton of snow being dumped on the midwest, I am "working at home," which means I can steal a few minutes to do bloggy-type things. Since I am working at home, I thought it would be great to blog about working at home, and why it is both awesome and awful.

Reasons why working at home is awesome:
  • I work without the constant knocks on my office door. I get a lot of questions throughout the day about things that aren't my job, which is annoying. I don't enjoy showing the same co-worker how to use the copier eleventy billion times. And, FYI, I am horrible with numbers, so you probably don't want to ask me accounting questions - or ask me how to use your accounting software. My idea of accounting software is Microsoft Excel and my computer's calculator.
  • I get to stay home with The Peanut, which is awesome.
  • Three words: working in pajamas.
  • I'm generally a fan of anything that keeps me from going out in the cold.
  • I can work at my own pace, with minimal interruption. I get to be super-productive, and look like a rock star when I come back to the office with all of my tasks completed.
Things that are awful about working at home:
  • The Hubs doesn't seem to understand that "work at home" means that I actually have to WORK while AT HOME. It does not mean that I have time to clean the whole house and iron his shirts.
  • I get to stay home with The Peanut, which means I have to take care of him all day. It's great when he's napping, but if he is fussy it's a mess. And listening to The Wiggles and Yo Gabba Gabba makes it difficult to concentrate - those Yo Gabba Gabba songs get stuck in your head for days ("Please. Don't. Throw things at friends. Please don't throw things at friends!").
  • The second I get settled into my work station (recliner), the demands start - the dog, the phone, the baby. I sit down and it happens all over again.
  • TEMPTATION - Internet, television, junk food. I have to resist the urge to say "eff it" and watch Project Runway reruns while stuffing my face with Cosmic Brownies. Oh! And that whole being in your jammies thing makes it very tempting to take a nap.
  • I have to get things done, or my boss will question whether letting me work at home is a good idea.
Do you get to work at home? Do you love it or hate it?


Monday, February 1, 2010

Television round-up.

(written while wearing my luxury microplush Snuggie)

If there is one thing I hate, it's people who get all holier-than-thou about not watching television. Let me be clear, I don't have a problem with people who don't watch television. I don't understand your kind, but I respect you. We're cool. The people I can't stand are the ones who act like they deserve a freaking medal because they don't know who McSteamy and McDreamy are. They feel they are 50 times more intelligent than the rest of the world because they have never seen Tabatha take over a salon (their loss, I say). An annoying subspecies of this breed is the person who will tell you, "I only watch _______," filling in the blank with a network they think will make them sound smart (PBS, NatGeo, The History Channel). Whatever. I think these people are up late at night, secretly watching reruns of For the Love of Ray J and hating themselves.

I love television. I'm not in front of the tube 24-7, but TV is one of my preferred methods of winding down at the end of the day. Television is also social for me; I love watching the shows my friends are watching and talking about them together (or possibly manically texting during the show). So I present for you, my lovely bloggy friends, what I am watching at the moment.

The Bachelor: On the Wings of Love

Featuring the adorable pilot Jake, and a plethora of crazy women. Jake may be my favorite Bachelor to date, because he calls the women on their game playing. He sent crazy Michelle home early for being crazy, and didn't give Elizabeth a rose because of her stupid game-playing. If the spoilers are true, however, Jake loses a few points for choosing a girl I didn't like. If these guys would just listen to me, things would go much better for them.

Jersey Shore

You either love it or you hate it, and I love it. This show is technically over, but MTV is rerunning it all time. I expected the cast members to be annoying, but they ended up being incredibly likable, and able to laugh at themselves. GTL will live forever in my heart. Fist pump.

American Idol

I can't quit you, American Idol (although I might once you take away my Simon). The audition rounds are going on right now, and there has been an array of guest judges. Some have been awesome (Neil Patrick Harris, Mary J. Blige, Posh Spice), and some have been useless (I'm looking at you Avril Lavigne and Joe Jonas). I'm looking forward to the Hollywood round, which for some reason is my favorite part of the show.

America's Best Dance Crew

I love the dancing, I love the music. But most of all, I love JC Chasez. Omarion is taking the place of Shane Sparks this season, and so far, he hasn't impressed me (but unlike Sparks, he hasn't been charged with child molestation, which is a plus). I loved B2K, Omarion. Don't let me down.

So, what are you watching?
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