Friday Confessions

I have heartburn radiating in my toenails and I thought the perfect cure would be to confess with Glamazon and Mamarazzi.

You should link up and play, it’s always a delight

I confess:

• At the moment I am hiding in my room because I cannot take one more minute with my hyper kids.
• Sure,  I should just be grateful they are getting along and giggling together.
• But with how I’ve been feeling lately, and the fact it’s 10 minutes till bedtime, it makes me want to put a hole in the hall with my fist.
• Cuz I’m calm as a cucumber like that.
• I had a couple people ask me if my last story was true.
• 100 percent.
• Down to the placenta buried in the backyard.
• My mom is the epitome of amazon woman.
• She probably made us dinner that night, too.
• I can’t remember..I may have blacked out at some point.
• With our phone and cable connection we have a feature that shows who is calling if you are watching TV.
• So when my phone is ringing, if the TV is on, I wait till it reports who is calling and then decide if I’m going to go to the effort to find the phone and answer it.
• The only problem is I now think it should show up everywhere.
• I expect it to flash across my computer screen.
• My microwave.
• The bathroom mirror.
• The wall.
• My husband’s/children’s faces.
• It’s up there with expecting to have the ability to rewind/pause the radio.
• I figure it’s either because I am so ahead of the times or I am super duper lazy.
• I’m gonna go with option A.
• Speaking of lazy, I find it very rude that the 4 times in my life that I really really want my house immaculately clean are the times when It is physically impossible for me to get it to where I want it and keep it there.
• I’m not a highly motivated person so I find it ironic that I finally get a fire under my butt for a perfectly put together house when I am feeling the worst.
• I keep begging God and my fetus to please let this come to an end sooner rather than later now that we are in the safe zone.
• Weeks before this I was researching (by ‘researching’ I do mean Googling) all the things they claim can induce labor and planned on doing every single on of them.
• But I’m just too damn tired to do any of them.
• I stop myself as I am begging for her to come out of my body and remember HOW she comes out and I think, you are really begging for THAT??
• You sure about that?
• At this point she could come out my nostril and I wouldn’t care, as long as she was out.
• Now I gotta go clean something if I can convince myself to get off the couch.
• But probably not.

Enjoy The Show

The other day I asked my 9 year old if she wanted to be in the room when I had the baby.

She gave me a “DUH!” look and said, “NOO!”

I don’t know what I would have done if she said yes.

If we’re gonna get real honest, I don’t want to be there either.

I’m still scarred from the time I was invited into my mother’s room to witness my younger brother come into the world.

By the time she was ready to give birth with him she figured she was better off having him at home. I was born in the hallway of the hospital on the way to the delivery room, my next brother was born in an ambulance, brought into the world by a fireman. So why not just stay at home and invite a midwife and a sikh (turban and all. I thought the turban was there in case they needed an extra towel.) into your bedroom to have the last one, right?

Totally makes sense.

Anyway, I was 5 or so years old and apparently it was the midwife that suggested it was a great idea to have us older kids come in to witness this miracle of life aka “watch your mother scream and cry to the point you think she’s dying”.  Now, we didn’t have front row seats or anything, we were just at the side of the bed. I have no memory of my brother coming out, his first cry or anything. All I remember is my mom doing her own version of that chick from The Exorcist.

And the fact my dad buried the placenta in the backyard. Man, that plum tree was fruitful after that!

I still call my brother “The One That Almost Killed My Mom”.

So yeah, I think my daughter will have to just stick to watching “The Baby Story” on TLC.

A Jolly Good List

Things that must be buried in the backyard with the placenta come May:

An overwhelming desire to weep at any given moment.

Whimpering every time I try to change position while sleeping.

The constant feeling of suffocating.

A rage that burns so bright that not even unicorns are safe.

Heartburn that radiates in my kneecaps.

Sausage fingers.

The desire to eat an entire cow but becoming physically ill after just a few bites.

A constant brain fart.

This denim, snappy shirt.

Wearing underwear that is large enough to provide shelter for a family (extended family included) of wood elves.

The stares of strangers.

Bending causing pain.

The fear of accidently farting in public.

The desperate desire to stay in bed all day.

The question, “Are you sure there’s only one in there?”

Dreams of running like a gazelle only to wake up feeling like a sickly hippo.

The need to tell everyone how horrible I feel.

Doing dishes. Crap. That one’s mine forever.

Ahh the joys of being a sacred life giving vessel.

Happy Tuesday.