MOTHER!! (aka Who's twat is shot...thanks Jimmy)
MOTHER!! (aka Who's twat is shot...thanks Jimmy)
Current mood: awake
I had a nice mother's day. Lauren prepared breakfast and brought it to me in bed, complete with a lavender sprig. I received a cool magnetic bookmark, lip balm and lots of assorted bath and body works items *happy face* from her, and later Alex gave me some Avon products. All in all a pretty good day, Lauren even washed dishes. The kids got to fighting later on which stressed me a little but if they went one day without getting into an argument, I'd have to cart them off to the doctor because surely something was wrong with them.
For some reason, I've noticed whenever a group of women get together talking, invariably the subject turns to "HORROR STORIES OF CHILDBIRTH". We gather round like veterans sharring gory tales of war from the highly exclusive battle "CAESARIANS VS VAGINALS". We share scars and stories of never-ending labors (that would be me, 18 hours with Lauren and 19 with Alex) with each woman trying to outdo the next. "I was in labor for 75 hours and had not slept in three weeks. The baby was breech and the cord was wrapped around his neck three times!" or in the case of the Caesarians, "my incision became infected and all of the staples grew into my stomach and had to be pried out one by one." (ugh!)
It never fails though, as we are all comforting each other in our tales of misery and woe, that one woman breaks from the pack and begins to describe her 30 minute delivery in the car on the way to the hospital in which she had a few pains that she thought were indigestion and *oopsies* the baby just slid right out! *Yes I am soooooo happy for you, bitch! I bet your vagina is a huge cavernous opening that has ample parking*
This same woman goes on to "tsk tsk" those who chose to bottle feed, and begins to describe how she milked a cow on her organic farm and pureed her own vegetables and made her own yogurt, all with baby firmly attached to breast in a snuggle sack. Meanwhile the others and I wait until she leaves to mock her and resume our horror stories.
Lauren was a very independent child, and freakishly strong. When just a baby, I discovered that she could not only hang from the handicap bar on our office door, she could do pull-ups on it. At age 3, it took 7 people (including me) to restrain her so that the doctor could look inside her ears. He told me "you don't need to worry about anyone kidnapping this child." I enrolled her in gymnastics at 5, where she showed great promise on the uneven bars. Most of the other children could not support their own bodies yet Lauren swung on them using her tiny little arms that had huge bulging biceps (I kid you not). I've never seen a 5 yr old with bulging biceps before, but find it rather ironic considering that I was forced to endure Popeye cartoons during much of my 18 hour labor, owing to the fact that my husband had passed out in the recliner clutching the remote as if he were Indiana Jones and it were the Holy Grail. To this day, if she tightens a lid on a jar of pickles or a soft drink, it takes three other people *or her* to unscrew the lid. There are lots of jars of pickles that I sadly cannot enjoy.
I won't bore my readers with my horror stories, since they really weren't that horrible, just long and boring and always ending with a drip of pitocin to move things along and then BAM it was over and I was left shivering and scared with a red-faced, wrinkled-up little girl, my mind filled with all the wonderous possibilities of molding and scarring this child that lay before me.
I hope everyone had a wonderful Mother's Day.
PS my hand fell asleep this morning, which I discovered as the alarm went off. In trying to hit the snooze button with said limp and lifeless appendage, I knocked everything off my nightstand including my full glass of water. Yay!
PPS then the dogs pissed in the hallway.
PPPS Happy Hour Tonight!
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