A Little TMI Otherwise Known As The Return Of My Period (I Think)

I think I am having my period. There are little drops of blood in my underwear. So must be, right? It has been so long. I think November of 2007 was my last sight of the bloods. Except, of course, for the massive soaking that comes after giving birth.

And then there was also the scary bleeding I had in the first trimester. When I saw the blood on the toilet paper this morning, my heart sank right back to that horrible morning I started bleeding. I remembered crawling back into bed after my 4:30 AM trip to the bathroom and whispering "No,no,no no, please God, no" and then rushing into the Ob/Gyn, my face stained with tears, my hands trembling, wanting to run into the ultrasound room and shove the wand up there myself and see that little heart beating and be relieved. It would take one more bloody scare for the doctor to tell me it looked liked the bleeding was from a low lying placenta and to take it easy but the baby was going to be fine. And she was. Better than fine. Perfect, she is.

The next time I would bleed would be the night I woke up to go to the bathroom three days before my due date and found blood on the toilet paper. As I went to lay down, I felt crampy and realized I felt like sitting up and as I sat there, I noticed that the crampy feeling was coming on rhythmically. I was having contractions and was at the beginning of labor.

My second thought this morning went to implantation bleeding before even considering it could be a period. I was all, "Oh hell no, I can't possibly be pregnant." Then I was all, "Hell no, you idiot, you are not pregnant. You are crampy and bloated and craving chocolate and salt. You are having your period." I think, anyway. It seems so much of my life has been punctuated with blood or the lack thereof over the past few years.

I Just Celebrated My 10 Year Anniversary And I am Feeling Nostalgic. Damn, I Must Be Getting Old.

(me and my friends circa 1995)

So it is NOT exactly us, it is a still from Reality Bites, but if you look quickly out of the corner of your eye, it's us. When I first saw Reality Bites, I hated it. How could a movie stereotype my generation like that? And make us seem like such dorks while doing it? I saw this movie again a few years ago and laughed my ass off because this movie WAS US. We dressed like that and drank like that and I even carried around a hi-8 video camera documenting our oh-so important life happenings or making short movies about how depressing Las Vegas is and everything was SOOO serious and we were going to change the world with our new technologies and the internet would unite us all. Cause how could there be war when you can be in touch with the whole universe just by uploading some video to your computer? God, we were soooo naive. Good Times.

More walks down memory lane to come...

Getting To Know Me, Getting to Know All About Me

Gabrielle over @ The Wifey Blogs has included me in her list of Beautiful Bloggers. Thank you so much!!! I am really lame at these awards because, like contests, I am never sure if I am doing them right. I know, I am a serious dork. I also feel bad having to nominate someone because I am worried they will be pissed off or just annoyed. I know, I am seriously lame.


Here are the rules.

1. Thank the person who nominated you for this award.
2. Copy the award & place it on your blog.
3. Link to the person who nominated you for this award.
4. Share 7 interesting things about yourself.
5. Nominate 7 additional Beautiful Bloggers.

Seven Interesting Things About ME ME ME ME ME....

1) I thought I was going to be a film/video editor. I did a little editing after college. Then went to grad school where I did ALOT of editing. After I graduated, I didn't want to ever step foot inside an editing bay ever again. I was totally burned out on it. The thought of sitting alone in a dark cold room editing crappy TV (I am all for watching it at home in a comfy and warm nicely lit family room though) made me want to die. I had a sort of quarter-life crisis. I spent the next seven years working in education instead. And yes, I have about eight million dollars in student loan debt. Oh well.

2) I moved 2.5 million times as a kid due to my father's job. It made me pretty jaded because I started to see the exact same kids in each school I went to and the same cliques. It made me good at reading people but also made me a loner and distrustful.

3) I loved Neil Finn from Crowded House when I was a teenager. My friend and I stalked a waiter at Chili's for about a year cause we thought he resembled him.

4) I love being a mother and think I am pretty damn good at it but I wish the rest of my life wasn't so fucked up.

5) I went to high school and college in Las Vegas. Though I am originally from Massachusetts, I have probably been shaped more by Vegas than New England. Living there helped make me the weirdo I am today.

6) My husband and I have been together since the beginning of time. We started dating at the end of 1995. We lived together in Las Vegas and then moved to Los Angeles together to go to graduate school. We got married in 2000. Our tin anniversary is in a couple of days.

7) Some days I really want another baby. Other days I am in complete disagreement about that.

And The Award Goes To....

Existential Waitress---Cause she would nominate me for any award that she received cause she is my bestie like that.

Organic Motherhood With Cool Whip---Cause her blog is just fantastically wonderful.

The Wifey---Cause I believe in giving it right back atcha when I get an award.

The All New (Brief History) of the Rise and Fall of Ten Minutes Ago---Because Jason, Big D, and I backpacked through Europe together in another lifetime and because his beautiful wife is soon to have their second baby.

Clueless But Hopeful Mama---Cause she has some of the most thought provoking posts about motherhood in the whole mommy-blogging bloggieland.

Reformed By Motherhood---Cause she has a Bug too. And cause I just love her writing and her topics.

The Stroller Ballet---Cause Sarah is a lovely person with a lovely blog.

Cause You Love My Boobs And I Love You

So, EW just wrote about a sweet encounter with her boobie sucker, and it made me realize that I haven't talked about breastfeeding in like a way too long time. I know, you are sitting at the edge of your seats in anticipation cause BFing blog posts rock your world too.



Well, I have been nursing Bug for one month short of a year and a half. We are down to about one or two feedings during the day and about 5 million at night. That's right, I am day-weaning and night nursing cause night-weaning is for wimps and the lack of sleep is giving me a glossy glow and doe eyes. Truth be told, I did this ass backwards cause I am an idiot breast-feeder and I lack the ability to let my kid cry at night. Yeah, I am that kind of parent. I call myself the "Accidental AP Parent" because I really had no parenting plan before Bug was born other than playing it by ear and rolling with the punches. I didn't know much about the whole--baby-wearing, nursing until college, letting the kid take over cal-king bed--type of parenting until I had Bug. But, as it turns out, that is what I am. And that is what I am because that is what Bug needed (needs) and I felt (feel) like my job is to respond to those needs. I baby wore because Bug had reflux and needed to be upright to be comfortable. I co-slept because she woke up constantly throughout the night and I needed (need) some damn sleep. I continue to nurse because it is her comfort and I can't see a real reason in her best interest to take it away from her. That said, breastfeeding is not nearly as simple as I thought it would be. I remember thinking all I needed was my boobs. Here is list of a few things that I realize I needed:



1. Nursing Bras. But not the expensive ones. The $50 dollar one I bought at the trendy BFing store in SM. Um yeah, not so much. The ones I bought in desperation, right after my milk came in and I was so engorged I was asking random strangers to suck on my boobs just to get a little relief, well those were somewhat better but didn't hold up in the wash and seriously people, when you are BFing every hour and half around the clock you really do not have time or the will to hand wash your stinky milk stained bras. Pulease. Which bras worked (work) the best? The $15 dollar ones I bought at Target. Without a doubt, the best.



2. The Medela Breastpump. If you are planning to BF your kiddo, you need to get one of these BEFORE your milk comes in and learn how to use it. Again, this was something I bought after my milk came in A) cause I had major oversupply issues and needed to pump to control my supply. Inversely, if you have low supply you need to pump to build up your supply or so I have been told. B) because I thought I'd be going back to work and needed to start pumping a supply of milk. I have to admit, I was actually afraid to use it at first and it took me a couple weeks of it sitting on display on my dining room table before I worked up the nerve to put my boob into the milk station. C) Cause how many other times in your life will you be able to buy such a ridiculous item and actually use it? The breast pump is all kinds of awesomeness and weirdness.


3. Zoloft. Well, not so much for the breastfeeding but for my sanity. My postpartum anxiety sucked and Zoloft did the trick to get things back on track. Not that my days are now picking wildflowers in a meadow, chasing rainbows and unicorns, but I am able to cope with the chaos. I stopped taking the meds several months ago but I highly recommend getting a little medicinal help if you need it.



4. A Postpartum Doula. OK, I sooo did not have this. I did have my mom's help. And she WAS a tremendous help. But even though I didn't have to pay her in cash, that kind of help didn't come for cheap. I PAID FOR IT WITH MY SOUL!!!!!! Seriously, next time ( if there is a next time) I'll hire a Doula. NOT KIDDING!

****There are lots of other obvious things. I got a boppy hand-me-down from a friend. And these pillows come in handy for the first couple of months. I had a really cute nursing cover-up thingy. I used it a bit but Bug hated being covered while nursing so it didn't get much use. Nursing tops are not too necessary and I stuck with t-shirts and cardigans as my nursing drobe but again, when else can you justify buying something as fanciful as easy access tops which allow you too whip out your boob through a nice little hole in the shirt? They are kind of hilarious.****

It's My Laundry And I'll Fold What I Want To

For the time being I am suspending all sock sorting and folding activity. Socks, I am leaving you in this basket from whence I will fetch you on an as-needed basis. Take that, laundry. Yeah yeah, shirts and pants, don't get your panties all in a bunch. I am still gonna fold you (and you too panties, for that matter). Shirts, I even ironed one of you last week. So get off my back. Socks, just deal with it. Think of your time in this basket as a party and mingle.

Cuteness Before Sickness

The worst part of getting sick on our trip to Flagstaff was knowing that Bug would get it too. But she didn't get sick until the last day of our trip so she got to enjoy her first visit to the snow!

These Family Vacations Are For The Dogs, Literally

Last week we headed up to Flagstaff to have the much anticipated and drama producing "the dogs of the family need to meet" vacation in the snow. Mind you, a few members of Big D's family have yet to meet Bug and this would be Bug's first introduction to snow. But these facts were far down on the list in importance to the dogs of Big D's family romping in the snow together. As we pulled onto the highway, I felt that familiar little scratch in the back of my throat that undoubtedly signals a cold is coming on. And of course a cold was coming on. I was going on a vacation. I always get sick on vacations. I always get sick on family vacations. I always get sick on vacations with Big D's family. Of course. My body revolts against me. Or against Big D's family. So right when I need my strength the most to keep a happy face and zen out amidst the madness (oh the stories I so wish I could tell) I am usually drowning in phlegm or coughing up a lung or puking up my guts. Lovely. It is just lovely. So of course, I got a full blown cold the whole time we where in Flagstaff. My head was a freight train being attacked by a sledgehammer and yet I went sledding, visited the ruins, made dinner, cleaned the kitchen, and of course watched out for Bug. I wouldn't have wanted to disrupt the doggie lovefest with a severe cold or minor case of piggy flu.


And it reminded me of another Big D family trip. This was a few years before the birth of the Bug. We were living in Los Angeles and we were heading down to San Diego for a reunion with Big D's family to watch the Browns kick the Chargers asses. Hahaha. Though neither Big D nor any of his siblings ever lived in Cleveland, his father is from Ohio and so they all are devout Browns fans in honor of their father. I was raised in New England and am therefore, though not much of a football fan, a fan of the Patriots nonetheless. But the point is, I was going to this family reunion to show allegiance to my husband and his family. And of course, on the way down to San Diego I feel that scratch in the back of my throat. Does my body revolt against the very idea of these family reunions? Maybe. I think my body just revolts against me.


So I did my best to suck it up. I drugged myself up good and smiled through it. And then the day of the game came. It was so hot. Ridiculously hot. The hot that doesn't happen in San Diego. Blistering sun. No sea breeze. Just bright sun which feels like daggers in my eyes so I keep the dark shades on and keep my eyes closed beneath them. As we approach the stadium Big D notes that the Echo is out of gas. He notes it but does he stop for a refill. Oh hell no! Big D has got to get to that stadium and get his football on. The point is we have NO GAS IN THE CAR as we putter into the stadium. And the traffic is a long line of turtles waddling into the parking lot. And because we have no gas we HAVE NO AIR CONDITIONING. And the Echo is the size of a peanut with three big guys plus me squished into it. And I have jacked myself up on cold medicine and diet coke to try to make it through the day from hell and save my marriage. And I am not kidding when I say that. Big D takes his family's likes and dislikes very seriously. When we were first dating, I fell asleep while watching a movie called something like A Man in The Wilderness, a movie revered in Big D's family, and it almost cost us the relationship. I think Big D still has hurt feelings over that. They take these things VERY seriously.


So anyway, the car is hot and stuffy and puttering along and you guessed it, I start puking all over the car. But this doesn't detract from their enthusiasm. In fact, they are so pumped up for the game I am not sure if anyone notices I am BARFING ON THE FLOOR of the car. GOOD TIMES!! Once in the stadium a harsh reality is upon us. The sun is beating down on the Browns side of the stadium and I am quickly adding sun stroke to my current bout of consumption. I excuse myself and head to the bathroom to make friends with the toilet. Ah, puking in public bathrooms, now that is classy (and has happened more than I care to admit). As I am puking, I realize that I really need to find a place to lie down and get out of the sun. So I go wandering the inner bowels of the stadium and stumble upon the clinic. I tell them that I am sick and need to lay down. The nurses look at me like, "Sure bitch, you are just drunk and can't hold your liqueur". But they let me lay down for 10 minutes. They actually time it and kick me off the cot at ten minutes and tell me that I either have to leave or go home. Go home? Not an option. Because if I pull Big D and say I was kicked out of the game for being sick, I would be headed to divorce court. Wow, the kindness of these medical professionals really astounds me. I am feeling the love. So I wander back to my seat where someone in the family starts taking photos of us all having a good time. And it seems everyone is completely oblivious to the fact that I am on death's door at this point. I am actually made to smile for the camera and I somehow manage to do it without vomiting--now that photo would have been a keeper!


So I am sitting there trying to meditate, praying I make it through this. And I begin noticing that Browns fans are particularly gross. For example, the people in front of me have two wild child brats. These kids have giant mats of nappiness for hair and the dad has some sort of skin disease that he keeps itching on and it starts bleeding. They are eating massive amounts of food and I am not kidding but the kids apparently don't know how to chew because as they are piling nachos and hotdogs into their mouths it just come tumbling out in chunks all over themselves and the seats and the floor and the hair of the people in front of them. And I realize I need to get out of there fast. So I spend most of the game sitting on the concrete in the hallway trying not to die. As the game nears an end (the Browns losing of course) I wander around a little and find that there is a whole picnic area on the first floor with chairs and tables and benches and shade and I could have sat there the whole time. And I am really pissed off at that point because the evil medical people could have told me that this place existed if they had a shred of humanity.


And then the game finally ends. Big D's family is pissed off and hating on the Chargers and making up reasons why the Browns lost yet another game. We make our way back to the car but we can't leave yet because there is no gas in the car so we have to wait until the parking lot empties until we can leave. This takes over an hour, maybe two. At this point, I no longer think I am dying, I want to die. Take me lord, take me now! We finally get in the car. Hallelujah! And now we have to find a place to get gas which for some reason takes an unholy amount of time. To top it of we follow Big D's Brother back to the condo and his Bro gets lost. It takes hours to get home. When we finally get home, I have to take the dogs out to pee because the boys need to finish watching football on TV before they can be bothered with the bathroom needs of the dogs. Someone orders Subway. We eat. I go to bed. Yeah, family vacations rule.