Have you ever had the unfortunate experience of listening to Dr. Laura speak? She has, or had a radio show. I'm not sure if she still does because I hate her guts so I don't ever listen to her. She says stuff about how if you have children and a vagina and you work that you are somehow the DEVIL and your children will grow up to be whores and junkies because you lack a soul. She also encourages you to kiss your husband's ass and probably tells women to make sure the house is clean and that you have dinner and a drink waiting for your man when he gets home from bread-winning. Also probably that you let him put his penis in your butthole if that is what he so desires. (I'm not really sure if she says any of that other than the first part about being a stay at home mom (also that probably isn't verbatim.))
Of course, the Hubs loves her. (Apparently we don't have too much in common.)
Dr. Whore-a has a book about how to treat your husband. It's basically like what men need from their women to feel like big strong manly men. Hubs has been telling me about it for years and I have been gagging and retching and pretending to slit my wrists every time he brings it up.
Until today.
I was thinking today about the things that I need from him and how he sometimes doesn't give them to me because he is gagging and retching about them. And sometimes I am thinking to myself, why won't he just do them if it makes me happy? I mean they are little things like making sure the doors are locked before bed and putting the dishes away... things he finds annoying but that would mean a lot to me.
So what if there are some little things that I can do that I haven't thought of that would make a big difference for him and in turn, our relationship? I'm not talking about anal or anything, but maybe this crazy bitch lady has some actual ideas that will help us get closer? I figured it was worth a shot so I went to the library and checked out the book (not buying it because, obviously.)
It's possible that I will want to burn the book or throw it out the window. But it's also possible that I might give something a try that will be a big deal to my husband. Follow ups to come... I haven't been able to bring myself to actually open the book yet.
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Monday, August 29, 2011
Does Size Really Matter?
Recently, my little circle of bloggy friends has united on the subject of our gaping vaginas. (P.S. According to my computer, vaginas is not a word. What is the plural for vagina? Anyone? I mean obviously, more than 1 vagina exists, so there should be a word right? Maybe it's like deer or fish, where the singular is the same as the plural? Our gaping vagina... That can't be right.)
Anyway, the other night, the Hubs and I were doing it, you know, IT. And I kid you not, right in the middle of IT, I started thinking about Oak and her 'pons. This should in no way suggest that the sex was bad or that I am in fact a lesbian.* What it should suggest is just how terribly disturbed I am at the thought of my vagina being gigantic.
I started analyzing the sex. Wondering, can he even feel this? I started doing kegals during the intercourse because, if I flexed that had to make it feel tighter, right? Nevermind that my face then had to freeze and my eyebrows stretched up toward my hairline and my nostrils started flaring. I'm quite certain I am not good at sex when I'm trying to focus on tightening my pelvic floor.
After it was over, I asked my husband if he enjoyed it. Of course he said yes. I asked him if it felt like a hot dog in a hallway and after a blank stare and a round of laughter, he assured me that it did NOT. I'm almost positive men don't notice the size of our vaginas (vaginae? (Spell check agrees! Our vaginae.)) They are just grateful they get to put their hot dogs in them.
* I do, of course, have a large girl crush on her.
Anyway, the other night, the Hubs and I were doing it, you know, IT. And I kid you not, right in the middle of IT, I started thinking about Oak and her 'pons. This should in no way suggest that the sex was bad or that I am in fact a lesbian.* What it should suggest is just how terribly disturbed I am at the thought of my vagina being gigantic.
I started analyzing the sex. Wondering, can he even feel this? I started doing kegals during the intercourse because, if I flexed that had to make it feel tighter, right? Nevermind that my face then had to freeze and my eyebrows stretched up toward my hairline and my nostrils started flaring. I'm quite certain I am not good at sex when I'm trying to focus on tightening my pelvic floor.
After it was over, I asked my husband if he enjoyed it. Of course he said yes. I asked him if it felt like a hot dog in a hallway and after a blank stare and a round of laughter, he assured me that it did NOT. I'm almost positive men don't notice the size of our vaginas (vaginae? (Spell check agrees! Our vaginae.)) They are just grateful they get to put their hot dogs in them.
* I do, of course, have a large girl crush on her.
Monday, August 22, 2011
School Days
My sweet little Bugs started 2nd grade last week. He's gone to a private school up until now but we decided for many reasons this year to send him to public school. (i.e. Mama quit her job to poop out another kid and private school is expensive and far away... I'm pretty sure Bugs will thank little bro for that rather than resent him. I guess we'll see when they are teenagers.)
Anyway, on the first day of class, I drove him to school and dropped him off at the curb. I asked him if he wanted me to walk with him or just drop him off and he, surprisingly, said he wanted me to walk with him. Um, oops and fuck all at the same time because I was still in my pajamas with no bra. There were about 13 million other people there, so I got a little concerned about my milk bags swinging around in my pajama top. So I asked Bugs if he'd be embarrassed if I walked him since I was in my pajamas, to which he replied, rather flatly, "That's ok. I can do it myself." Fail. Thanks boobs.
After school I picked him up and he told me he couldn't remember his teacher's name and didn't know where to go so he started crying on the playground. (Insert giant elephant shit sized mom guilt here.) Luckily a teacher helped him find his way. He got lost at lunch again because he got in the "hot lunch" line when he had "cold lunch" so he didn't know which table belonged to his class.
All in all, he's happy and healthy and will do fine in school. However, that doesn't stop me from worrying everyday when I drop him off. Note to other moms: make sure your kid knows his teachers name, and don't wear your fucking pajamas when you drop them off on the first day.
Anyway, on the first day of class, I drove him to school and dropped him off at the curb. I asked him if he wanted me to walk with him or just drop him off and he, surprisingly, said he wanted me to walk with him. Um, oops and fuck all at the same time because I was still in my pajamas with no bra. There were about 13 million other people there, so I got a little concerned about my milk bags swinging around in my pajama top. So I asked Bugs if he'd be embarrassed if I walked him since I was in my pajamas, to which he replied, rather flatly, "That's ok. I can do it myself." Fail. Thanks boobs.
After school I picked him up and he told me he couldn't remember his teacher's name and didn't know where to go so he started crying on the playground. (Insert giant elephant shit sized mom guilt here.) Luckily a teacher helped him find his way. He got lost at lunch again because he got in the "hot lunch" line when he had "cold lunch" so he didn't know which table belonged to his class.
All in all, he's happy and healthy and will do fine in school. However, that doesn't stop me from worrying everyday when I drop him off. Note to other moms: make sure your kid knows his teachers name, and don't wear your fucking pajamas when you drop them off on the first day.
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Ten Years
Today is my 10th anniversary.
When reflecting on my marriage, I wish I could say it's all been joyful and amazing. It has been that at times, but also challenging and very difficult at other times.
What I can say, while I'm sitting in my beautiful home, with my beautiful babies is that this is where I'm meant to be. My husband is who I'm meant to be with and I am ever so grateful to be here.
When reflecting on my marriage, I wish I could say it's all been joyful and amazing. It has been that at times, but also challenging and very difficult at other times.
What I can say, while I'm sitting in my beautiful home, with my beautiful babies is that this is where I'm meant to be. My husband is who I'm meant to be with and I am ever so grateful to be here.
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Crib Fail
L has been sleeping in my room since the day he was born. He started out in a snuggle nest, which is a little baby bed you put in your bed so you don't accidentally crush him in your sleep. I loved it, but it took up a lot of room and had to go between me and the Hubs, which didn't leave much room for touchy feely good stuff between us. Once we found out L had reflux, we moved him to the bouncy chair on the floor next to our bed. Hello sex cuddling! We did that so that he'd be upright and not all gaggy and chokey pants when he threw up all over himself in the night.
Well, he's been sleeping longer and longer each night, sometimes actually making it through 8 hours. Woo hoo!! But there are some nights he still wakes up a lot. Like a lot, a lot. The other night he was whining and making noises and I was just too damn tired to get up and get him, so I just decided to let him cry for a minute. And guess what? He went back to sleep. Of course, I was awake after that, but it started an experiment... let him cry and see what happens. There still are times he wakes up, but sometimes, he just goes back to sleep. This has lead me to believe that it is time to transition him to the crib. I've tried it for 2 nights in a row now.
It is not going so well.
He was awake pretty much every 2 hours both nights. Until finally, I was so tired, I pulled him in to bed and nursed him til we both fell asleep. I do love having him in my room with me, but damn, I'm fucking tired! I can't remember how this all played out the first time I had a kid because that was like forever ago. I'm pretty sure we had him in his crib from birth because I was all, children can not share a bed with us! OMG! That would be the WORST!! And now I'm more of a this baby is going to grow up at lightning speed, don't miss a THING!!!
So here I am, tired and still sharing my bed/room with a squirming, squeaking, puking little munchkin. We'll try the crib again tonight. Any tips/advice are appreciated...
Well, he's been sleeping longer and longer each night, sometimes actually making it through 8 hours. Woo hoo!! But there are some nights he still wakes up a lot. Like a lot, a lot. The other night he was whining and making noises and I was just too damn tired to get up and get him, so I just decided to let him cry for a minute. And guess what? He went back to sleep. Of course, I was awake after that, but it started an experiment... let him cry and see what happens. There still are times he wakes up, but sometimes, he just goes back to sleep. This has lead me to believe that it is time to transition him to the crib. I've tried it for 2 nights in a row now.
It is not going so well.
He was awake pretty much every 2 hours both nights. Until finally, I was so tired, I pulled him in to bed and nursed him til we both fell asleep. I do love having him in my room with me, but damn, I'm fucking tired! I can't remember how this all played out the first time I had a kid because that was like forever ago. I'm pretty sure we had him in his crib from birth because I was all, children can not share a bed with us! OMG! That would be the WORST!! And now I'm more of a this baby is going to grow up at lightning speed, don't miss a THING!!!
So here I am, tired and still sharing my bed/room with a squirming, squeaking, puking little munchkin. We'll try the crib again tonight. Any tips/advice are appreciated...
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Joy in 2 Posts
This morning I awoke and had an idea for my post today. I decided to see what I posted about around a year ago because I knew it was right around when I got my BFP. And look what the post was from exactly a year ago today:
How fucking awesome is that?
I remember being so utterly terrified that this thing, this baby, this tiny ball of life would die before it ever lived. I remember being incredibly angry that I was drowning in fear and lacking in hope. I remember checking every time I went to the bathroom and hoping, praying, literally willing there not to be any blood on the toilet paper. I remember wanting to tell people but not daring to because if it ended badly, I didn't want to have to tell them that I miscarried again.
I told you all of course. Just now I reread your congratulations and they had me crying at my keyboard. Thank you for being here for me for the last year and a half. You had hope for me even when I had none for myself.
The hours and days and weeks that followed the big announcement were nail biters of course. And the months that came after were still difficult to believe. Then came all the symptoms and feeling my baby move and getting a round belly and pains in weird places and peeing my pants and sleeping all day.
And then came my baby.
And now comes the realization that even though I will never forget how difficult, terrifying and awful it was to steer through IF... I get this daily reminder for the rest of my life of how it was oh so worth it. So. Worth. It.
How fucking awesome is that?
I remember being so utterly terrified that this thing, this baby, this tiny ball of life would die before it ever lived. I remember being incredibly angry that I was drowning in fear and lacking in hope. I remember checking every time I went to the bathroom and hoping, praying, literally willing there not to be any blood on the toilet paper. I remember wanting to tell people but not daring to because if it ended badly, I didn't want to have to tell them that I miscarried again.
I told you all of course. Just now I reread your congratulations and they had me crying at my keyboard. Thank you for being here for me for the last year and a half. You had hope for me even when I had none for myself.
The hours and days and weeks that followed the big announcement were nail biters of course. And the months that came after were still difficult to believe. Then came all the symptoms and feeling my baby move and getting a round belly and pains in weird places and peeing my pants and sleeping all day.
And then came my baby.
And now comes the realization that even though I will never forget how difficult, terrifying and awful it was to steer through IF... I get this daily reminder for the rest of my life of how it was oh so worth it. So. Worth. It.
 |
| Yeah, I'm pretty cute. |
Friday, August 5, 2011
Twit
So I decided to give the old Twitter a try. I don't really get it. I feel like I'm throwing things out there that nobody will ever see slash care about. Plus, I subscribed or followed or whatever some things I thought might be interesting. Most of them are comics that say fuck as much as I do, but I also thought it would be fun to subscribe to the White House. I mean, they might have something interesting to tweet about right? Well no, they don't. And in fact, the White House tweets so much that I deleted that mother fucker as a friend, or followee or whatever the hell it's called.
How does the White House have more time to tweet than me? I just wrote a post about how boring laundry is. I'm still in my pajamas and it's almost noon. I haven't even thought about looking at Twitter today and I guarantee, Mr. High and Mighty White House probably has at LEAST a dozen tweets today. I bet they are paying some asshole 80 grand a year to tweet from his home office about the White House.
But anyhoo, I'm probably not going to just throw out my Twitter name, but if you'd like to follow me (eyes rolling) then email me and I will send it to you. Although, my Twitter career might be short lived. Just like my real career. And my 20's.
How does the White House have more time to tweet than me? I just wrote a post about how boring laundry is. I'm still in my pajamas and it's almost noon. I haven't even thought about looking at Twitter today and I guarantee, Mr. High and Mighty White House probably has at LEAST a dozen tweets today. I bet they are paying some asshole 80 grand a year to tweet from his home office about the White House.
But anyhoo, I'm probably not going to just throw out my Twitter name, but if you'd like to follow me (eyes rolling) then email me and I will send it to you. Although, my Twitter career might be short lived. Just like my real career. And my 20's.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Wait a Second...
I know I probably talk about the weight loss thing a little too much but I don't give a damn bitches, I wanna be skinny! My friend Oak posted about how she has been very successful at losing her baby weight by continuing to breast feed/pump. It is also widely reported by other friends and the media ITSELF about how breast feeding contributes to post-partum weight loss.
It's just really not working out for me. In fact, I have gained 5-7 pounds, depending on the day. About 2 weeks after L was born, I was back to pre-pregnancy weight, and now I have this extra looming poundage that has attacked my mid-section with a vengeance. Also my face. My face is ginormous. I hate having pictures taken of me right now because my face is round and double chinny.
I have even tried a weight loss system that has been effective for me in the past. It's one where you track everything you eat and they give you a points value, you know the one. They have it set up so breast feeding mothers can use the plan, you just get extra points. I followed this plan religiously for 3 weeks, which I know isn't a long time, but long enough to lose a pound or two right? Wrong. I gained 2 pounds. And no it is not from muscle gain because quite frankly, the working out I'm doing right now isn't muscle building material.
So maybe I need to reestablish my point values or something. Maybe I should eat 22 pretzel sticks instead of 28. Maybe mother nature could give me a fucking break and throw me a frickin bone here? The good news is I live in a cold winter months state, so pretty soon I'll be able to throw on a coat and scarf and call it good. Maybe I could lose the weight over the winter? Maybe we could skip Thanksgiving dinner and Christmas cookies this year? Mmm, Christmas cookies. I make this kind with frosting made of shortening and powdered sugar.
Damn it.
It's just really not working out for me. In fact, I have gained 5-7 pounds, depending on the day. About 2 weeks after L was born, I was back to pre-pregnancy weight, and now I have this extra looming poundage that has attacked my mid-section with a vengeance. Also my face. My face is ginormous. I hate having pictures taken of me right now because my face is round and double chinny.
I have even tried a weight loss system that has been effective for me in the past. It's one where you track everything you eat and they give you a points value, you know the one. They have it set up so breast feeding mothers can use the plan, you just get extra points. I followed this plan religiously for 3 weeks, which I know isn't a long time, but long enough to lose a pound or two right? Wrong. I gained 2 pounds. And no it is not from muscle gain because quite frankly, the working out I'm doing right now isn't muscle building material.
So maybe I need to reestablish my point values or something. Maybe I should eat 22 pretzel sticks instead of 28. Maybe mother nature could give me a fucking break and throw me a frickin bone here? The good news is I live in a cold winter months state, so pretty soon I'll be able to throw on a coat and scarf and call it good. Maybe I could lose the weight over the winter? Maybe we could skip Thanksgiving dinner and Christmas cookies this year? Mmm, Christmas cookies. I make this kind with frosting made of shortening and powdered sugar.
Damn it.
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Zzzzzzzz
Does anyone else find that folding baby clothes, blankets and other paraphernalia the most tedious job of all jobs? I'm not sure if I've mentioned this or not, but L spits up a lot (I know I've mentioned it a million times, it's sarcasm.) Anyway, I have to change his clothes frequently because he is usually quite vomit covered and soaking wet and smelling like a foot. We have also started using his receiving blankets as "burp" cloths. Although I think I should start calling them something more truthful, like "fountain of breast milk catching cloths." That's not very creative, but it gets the visual across.
Anyhoo, back to the laundry... so I get a full basket of baby clothes, rags, towels, blankets, etc. filled up about every 3 days, maybe 4. L doesn't have a ton of clothes because, well, honestly it's because I'm lazy AND cheap. So by about the 3rd day of multiple outfit changes, he needs some clean clothes. So I have to do his laundry about twice a week. Then the clean things sit in the basket until the pile of dirty clothes on the floor is ready to be washed again. That's when I have to fold the teeny tiny itty bitty clothes. And it is mind numbingly dull.
So here is an equally dull post to tell you about how boring I find folding baby things. Although, really, folding any laundry is horribly boring.
Maybe you could come back and read this post before bed time. It will help you fall asleep.
Anyhoo, back to the laundry... so I get a full basket of baby clothes, rags, towels, blankets, etc. filled up about every 3 days, maybe 4. L doesn't have a ton of clothes because, well, honestly it's because I'm lazy AND cheap. So by about the 3rd day of multiple outfit changes, he needs some clean clothes. So I have to do his laundry about twice a week. Then the clean things sit in the basket until the pile of dirty clothes on the floor is ready to be washed again. That's when I have to fold the teeny tiny itty bitty clothes. And it is mind numbingly dull.
So here is an equally dull post to tell you about how boring I find folding baby things. Although, really, folding any laundry is horribly boring.
Maybe you could come back and read this post before bed time. It will help you fall asleep.
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