May 27, 2008

I’ve been pregnant 845 times. Possibly only 5-ish but it sure felt like 845 times. I was overdue just about every single time, but the longest was my oldest son. I think. Let me explain.

I was 19, and pregnant for the first time (hope so at 19!) and I honestly knew not much about babies, having a baby, diapers, babies, or babies. I obviously knew how to get knocked up, knew where the baby was going to come out (HELP ME!) and assumed it would hurt like hell. However, as far as all of the technical jargon, the details, I was pretty naive.

I was sure I was pregnant in early January, but put off going to the doctor because I was afraid. By February, I was newly separated, still figuring I was pregnant but still not wanting to have it confirmed, but finally managed to make a doctor’s appointment. The obvious fact of me being with child was proven. The doctor wanted to know when my last period was.

I don’t know.

Do you have any idea?

I dunno. (at 19, I didn’t keep track of much)

A guess even?

I gave him a guess, which looking back was probably wrong, thus putting me in the upsetting situation of being 2 months overdue, or 4 weeks early, or being pregnant for 26 months (I’m getting to that).

I was given a due date of June 8th. Seemed okay I guess. Still officially spring time, so I wouldn’t be sweating up a storm with a hot, sultry summer baby. I had moved back home with my parents and siblings, worked until I was about 8 months pregnant (what I thought was 8 months pregnant) and then started my maternity leave. It wasn’t too bad - sat out and got tanned every day, helped my parents look after my younger siblings, did some shopping to get ready for baby, basically loafed around for what I thought was my final few weeks.

I went to all of my doctor’s appointments during the pregnancy, didn’t gain a lot of weight, still wore mini skirts and my hooker pumps and big hair (hey it was the 80’s) and felt okay for the most part. Of course by the first part of June, I was really, really hating pregnancy and didn’t understand women who gushed about loving pregnancy, how they felt sexy and beautiful blah blah blah. But I was comforted in the fact that my due date was June 8th and being naive, and not super knowledgable about babies and due dates in general, didn’t realize that due dates aren’t a guarantee that your baby will actually arrive on that given day.

I went to what I thought would be my last regular apointment before baby was to be born. Wrong. So very wrong. I remember being on the examining table, waiting for the doctor to come in to do that ever so uncomfortable “check of things down there,” and assuming (I did a lot of assuming back then) that he would say, “baaaabbbeeee time!” which he totally did not.

Doctor comes in and does the exam, listens to the heartbeat, checks my blood pressure, and then tells me he’ll be right back. He comes back with my chart and a “look” on his face. He clears his throat and matter of factly, tells me that although I was originally told that my due date was June 8th, he said that he was now putting me due around the middle of August.

Whaaaaaaaaaaa?

Things just aren’t where they’re supposed to be, and there’s no way that your due date is June 8th. You weren’t sure of your last period date were you? That makes a difference.

I, uh, I’m due in August? Shouldn’t you test me? My mom’s neighbor said that there’s a full moon soon, like in a few days and that the baby would come then. So, right?

Well some people believe in the old wives tale about babies being due and coming on or around the time of the full moon but since it’s only June, there’s no way that you’re having this baby now.

But I’m like due now. How can I be pregnant for like 11 months?

Doctor laughs.

I’m not laughing. My lip is quivering. I’m seriously thinking about punching the doctor in his old, fat face because there is no way I’m going to be pregnant for another 2 months. It was horrible enough that my shoes were becoming tight and my days of wearing my beloved high heels were coming to a horrible end and the thought of wearing stupid flip flops was making me nauseous. Plus, just because he’s a doctor, and an old one at that, doesn’t mean he knows about babies and pregnant chicks. Sure he was an ob/gyn and had been for 100 years, but still, he didn’t know everything. Like, my determination not to be pregnant for another 2 months was overwhelming and I was going to get this baby out.

I left the office feeling very sad, so sad that I stopped for icecream on the way home. What did doctors know anyway? They were just regular people with white coats and medical instruments in their offices. Big deal.

Since this was not the land of computers or the world wide web, it’s not like I could just go home and google shit about babies and shit. I had to call people and ask them questions. Like could the doctor be right? Could I infact be pregnant for another 2 months? Yes, I was assured that that could actually be correct. Why? Well dear, when you don’t know your dates, then the doctors can’t know your dates. Sure they can guestimate, and give you a basic idea with an ultrasound but it’s not a guarantee. It’s not? No, sadly, it’s not.

By the first part of July, I was so sick of being pregnant, I decided to become creative and make the baby fall out. Yes, I seriously thought babies could just fall out in the right circumstances. And no, not because my vagina was huge.

My friends, who by the way, were not mothers nor were they ever pregnant, gave me some suggestions, to which I gladly decided I would try. One friend told me that her mom had drank a bottle of ketchup and then a few hours later had her. I ate one tablespoon and barfed. But unfortunately I didn’t barf a baby out. Just the ketchup. I was told that skipping rope would induce labour. I had a skipping rope and after about 56 jumps, realized, that doing that was not going to make baby fall out. It just gave me heartburn. I was told sleeping on my stomach would make the baby uncomfortable and then it would want to come out. Nope. Just made me uncomfortable because what 89th month pregnant lady can sleep on her stomach? Not one. I dare you to find me one.

One friend held a “let’s get this baby out” party - which only she and I attended. The baby didn’t even make an appearance. Someone told me to watch a scary movie and that would make the baby active, thus making me go into labour. Nope, the scary movie didn’t work. Just made me pee my pants. Another person told me to have sex. Uh, I didn’t have anyone in my life to have sex with, and that’s what got me in this mess to begin with, duh, I’m not dumb.

The month of June goes by in a blur of trying stupid, not working things to try to get the baby out and before I knew it, it was July.

Monday, July 13th, I went to another doctor’s appointment. I was resigned to the fact that, at 19, I would be in the record books of being pregnant for the longest time ever. Considering most women have their babies within 9 months, give or take, I was going to be 11 months pregnant by the time the middle of August rolled around.

As I sat on the table in the office, I wondered if Guiness would be calling me and wanting photographs of the chick who was pregnant for nearly a year? Should I get a new tent to wear? The doctor comes in and it’s not my regular doctor, new doctor introduces himself and explains that my doc is away for a few days. We do the whole routine of small talk while he checks my vajayjay, he finishes (that sounds gross) and tells me to get dressed and he’ll be right back. He comes back a few minutes later and says that everything looks good and that I’m dilated and my cervix is soft.

What? I’m what? My what is what? Is that normal?

Yes, it’s normal and it means that your body is getting ready to have the baby.

Whaaaaaa? Really? Like when?

He laughs.

What is it with doctors laughing at their pregnant patients?

It means that yes, you’re very close to having the baby.

Could I have it right now? Well, I don’t mean like right in the office, but soon right?

Yes, maybe even tonight. (laughs)

For real? Like tonight?

Well, don’t get your hopes up, I was half kidding about tonight, but baby seems ready and things are moving along nicely, so it will be soon.

So, like I won’t be pregnant for another month?

No, no, no. You’ll have that baby within a week. I almost kissed this new, unfamiliar baby doctor!

Instead, I almost shit myself. I went home that day and it was sorta like winning the lottery. My water broke on July 14th around 2 a.m. and 8 long hours later, I did win the lottery. My first son was born.

To Sam, who is 567 days overdue (okay, maybe only 6, but I bet it feels like 567 days), my point is, that baby will come out eventually (I hear you’re being induced!) and that baby will be so worth the very long, impatient, uncomfortable, did I mention very long? wait. Good luck, and happy birthday to your baby.

So, I was either 2 months overdue, 4 weeks early, or right on time. Depends on who you ask.

August 20, 2007

I’ve been tagged yet again, this time by Ozy, who of course would choose me because, yes, you guessed it, he thinks I’m certifiable fabulous. I’m supposed to tell you 8 completely random things about me. Why? To make your life complete. Duh. What oh what would you do without me? Not have much of a life I guess.

1.I have this insane ocassional fear that the vehicle I’m driving will blow up. I know what you’re thinking…’she’s so pretty’, but even so, this really is fucking ridiculous sorta silly and unfortunately I can’t help it. It doesn’t happen often, but when it does strike me, I honestly think that the car I’m driving will explode. Maybe it’s the booze fact that I was dropped on my head last week as a baby.

2.I prefer crushed ice in my drinks over cubed ice. I mean, I will use cubed ice if necessary but if there were an ice crushing hunk available, I’d get him to smash my ice every single time. And is this ‘code’ for sex talk? You betcha. Where’s my Yellow pages?

3.I can’t leave my house unless my kitchen is spotless. I don’t know why this is, but I’ve been this way for years. I can feel your excitement at this knowledge and let me say, I’m happy to make you happy.

4.My clothes are colour coordinated in my closet. Call it a sickness if you will but I prefer to call it C.R.A.Z.Y. organizationally talented. Yes organizationally IS a word. It’s MY word. I invent them. Move on.

5.I’ve never had a broken bone except for a broken baby toe but does that even count? That hardly counts for a bone. And sure I’ve broken other people’s bones, like the annoying lady that kept dumping her dog poo on my lawn. I punched her in the face and broke her face which is like one big face bone right? So it was only in my overactive imagination but still, that absolutely counts. It’s only in horse shoes that it doesn’t count. Or whatever that saying is. You get my drift. Is this fact number 8 yet?

6.I once won $98 on a lottery ticket. Ignore the fact that I had to spend $75 on the tickets to win that almost $100 dollars but still, a win is a win. Were these facts supposed to put you to sleep? If so, mission accomplished. Oh snap!

7.I was stung by yellow jacket hornets a few years ago. It hurt alot. I cried. And that’s all I got for ya.

8.I have not a fucking soul who knows me several hundred fans who read my blog, so to only choose a few to tag would be so unfair. And if there’s one thing I am, it’s delusional fair. I wouldn’t want to change that about myself. So if you want to tag yourself on behalf of me, I only charge $24.99.

Now that I’ve totally made your day (probably your month), you can skip through the rest of your Monday with a huge smile on your face and thank your lucky stars that you don’t live anywhere near me know me.

June 18, 2007

Oh I have some news: I’ve been tagged again! Do you know what this means? No? Lemme tell ya. It means that elephants will stampede through your house. I’m so not even kidding.

Okay, beautiful Bella has tagged me and why? Because she thinks I’m a lonely bag lady super fabulous, that’s why. Apparently I’m supposed to tell you 8 random facts/habits about myself, which I know you are dying to know. And why wouldn’t you be dying to know? You have nothing better to do, that’s why. Here are the rules:

Each player starts with eight random facts and/or habits about themselves.
People who are tagged need to write their own blog about their eight things and post these rules.
At the end of your blog, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names.
Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read your blog.

Let’s get started shall we? Ya.

I like Strawberries & Cream drinks from Starbucks (and Melie, my sweet friend is shipping me a whole crate of them. I think. Or maybe she said she was going to punch me in the face. I dunno.). And by like them, I mean I will kill for them. For real. I’ll cut you if you if you try to butt in line ahead of me, thus making it take longer for me to get my drink on. Stand back.

I am terrified of spiders. I don’t care if they’re small, cartoon-y looking, pink with sparkles, have bags of money to give me, look at me lovingly or are big, hairy and smelly. I hate all spiders equally. I’m fair like that.

I clean my house alot. I clean my bathroom just about every.single.day. Why? I’m not sure. I just really like my house to be tidy and neat and smell nice, which reminds me, I have to clean my house………………………

Miss me? Okay, continuing on:

I sleep with a fan on. I like the ‘white’ noise of the fan to sleep and I also like it facing toward me. I like to be blown. on.

I have the worst luck with cashiers & customer service people who I have to contact about any given problem about any given product I might have issues with. Never fails. I get the dumb ones, the rude ones, the morons, the ones who want to hit me hit on me, the people who have no time for my whiny bullshit sweetness and who generally just do not have any desire to help me. I really don’t understand those people having the self control not to kick me in the neck not wanting to do their best for me. Hello? I’m so worth it.

I love the song Stayin’ Alive by the Bee Gees. Make fun of me and I’ll get all ninja-y on you. Try me.

I despise sneakers. I can’t even begin to tell you how much I hate them. I do have a pair to work out in but I actually shudder when I have to put them on. I actually kinda throw up in my mouth when I think of sneakers. Let’s stop talking about them now.

My new wake up time is 5:30am. I wake up every morning now at 5:30am. Why? Anyone who can answer that question for me, will be nicely rewarded. How? Oh you just might as well hold your damn breath wait and see.

I’m a rebel. What do I mean by that? Well this is fact NUMBER 9, so that means I didn’t do the EIGHT facts as I was instructed to do, and that my friends, makes me a rebel. Ha. I laugh in the face of rules.

I’m also going to break another rule. I am supposed to tag 8 people but since I know two thousands of people, it wouldn’t be fair to only list 8 of them. So since I’ve stated that I’m a rebel, I’m going to say, if you come here and read this, consider yourself tagged (you can thank me later with cash) and then I will seek and find you and come and see what you wrote about me, it’s all about me yourself.

Well it’s that time again, it’s been 5 minutes: time to clean my bathroom. Gotta go get my Mr Clean on.

May 23, 2007

I have been tagged people by Chris and you know what that means? That means she thinks I’m getting old fabulous and loves me. She’s tagged me with with the following two things, which I will now share with you. I know you’re dying to know as usual. Why? Because I fight crime with my insanity beauty and anyone who can do that, well, people want to know everything about them.

WHEN I AM AN OLD WOMAN, I HOPE TO:

1. Be able to chew properly. I hope to keep all of my own teeth and not have some kind of set that you drop in a glass on the nightstand. The thought of my teeth floating beside my bed, brings shivers to my spine.

2. Not shit myself. I’ve not so far (well I did that one time back in the day but I was one, so I don’t think that counts), but seeing as I’m only 39 25, I don’t think I have to worry about that right away unless I eat some really bad seafood and there’s no indoor plumbing near by. However, I’m not very concerned about it at this moment in time.

3. Still have sex. Even if my husband perishes before me, I hope to have some sort of swingin’ lifestyle that will provide this old gal with some pleeeeeeaaaaa-sure if you know what I’m sayin’. You know, right now, the thought of old lady me getting it on, is well, making me sorta nauseous. I think I might need to find that indoor plumbing now. Be right back.

4. Be able to wipe my own rear. I will invent some sort of wiper should my arms become too fragile to do the job by themselves. No way will I hire someone to do any sort of wiping for me. Just not happening people, just not happening.

5. Still be semi hot. Not hot as in ‘oh I have a fever and nasty rash’ hot, but old lady hot. I think this one might be a pipe dream but I could be senile by then anyway, so let’s just go with it mmmkay?

Onto the next part, which, you’re just holding your breath waiting for. Maybe I should do part 2 tomorrow and make you dream about me all night long. I’m not that cruel, however. You can still dream about me though.

WHEN I AM AN OLD WOMAN, I WILL NOT:

1. Tell you how many times I passed gas before noon. Besides, people like me,liars princesses, don’t pass gas. It’s a true fact people.

2. Have short, old lady bad perm hair. I like my hair. I’ve not always liked my hair and it’s taken me many years to come to fall in like with it, so I will not cut it all off and make it all curly and gray. I will dye it. I will leave it sorta long, probably not as long as it is now but I will not have short, white, carpet hair. Sure the other wrinkly broads at the old folks home will hate me but so what? Eat it betches.

3. Wear polyester stretch pants or blouses with ruffles or undershirts (not sure if old women wear undershirts, maybe that’s old men, whatever, I’m not wearing them), wear giant ‘granny panties’, soft soled nurse type shoes or elastic waisted anythings. If I look like a retarded asshat wearing my lowcut lacy black bra under my sexy white tee and my tight jeans with the hot high heeled boots, that’s my business. I’ll cut you.

4. Have bunions. I will cut them off before I walk around with fungus on my feet or whatever the hell bunions are. I will file that fucker off before I walk around with an gross lump on my pretty little feet.

5. Have a turkey neck. There is no need for one. Honestly, wrap that baby up, clip it, tape it, sand it, get surgery, something. Just no need to walk around, all flappy and shit.

And there you have it. My old lady list of do’s and don’ts. I’m sure you’ll all be sleeping like babies tonight, just having that much more information on me. I’m thoughtful like that. Thank you Chris for tagging me. I’m pretty sure you said you’d pay me like $235 for doing this, so check’s in the mail right? Right.

*Edit* I’d list some people to tag but having five 895 fans is a bit much to list and I’d feel horrible if I left anyone out. So if you feel like doing this, do it and come back and tell me you did it. I, however, will not pay you like Chris is paying me. We have a special relationship.

January 26, 2007

Maybe my day will improve! Chris, my new fan, because she said I was the most talented, beautiful, sexy, sweet, gorgeous creature she’s ever seen/read, has tagged me. Fine, I lied, she didn’t say any of that but she did say I was hilarious, so that’s almost the same thing. Anyway, I must tell you 10 things about me, which I KNOW you WANT to KNOW. I have to run out for a bit but I will return to tell you 10 things that you will poke your eyes out because you DIDN’T want to know that about me have been dying to know about me. Ab-so-freakin’-lutely. Now, listen, go about your day until I return, although I know that will be hard because you’ll be sitting on the edge of your seat, breathlessly waiting for me to come back. Honestly, breath okay? Be back soon!


*Edit*


Told you I’d be back albeit later than I expected. And by later, I mean over 24 hours later, but I was getting sloshed and whistling at the cars going by rescuing a cat from a burning tree. Anyway, enough about my being a superhero, let’s move on to ten things about me that you’re dying to know.


1.) I love early morning. Why you ask? Because it’s that time of day that I open the booze can play online without being interrupted, listen to the quiet and zone out before my day starts.


2.) I can’t swim. I may have mentioned this before somewhere along the way but you probably forgot because you were mesmerized by my insanity beauty and all.


3.) I’m scared of sharks. And I know I just said I can’t swim and therefore, will most likely never be out swimming in the ocean, however, should a band (is that what you call them?) of pirates kidnap me and throw me overboard, then it’s possible that I could become shark bait and that scares me tremdously.


4.) I love pink. Like anyone with a brain can’t figure that one out. However, I wouldn’t want pink hair. Or a pink toilet. Or pink eyes. Or a pink elephant in my livingroom.


5.) I have a love affair going with peanut M&M’s. I wish I didn’t and I hope to end it soon because my heartburn isn’t happy with our goings on.


6.) I listen to Chris Daughtry’s debut cd every single day since I got it. He’s a really great singer and not hard on the eyes. I’m not normally into bald guys, but hey, it works on him. I’d hit it shake his hand if I met him.


7.) I have 2 pens that light up. One is silver and one is pink and both write with black ink. They’re $1.98 at Staples. And so worth the money, if you’re into pens and such.


8.) I wish I could play the guitar and although my husband has been playing for over 25 years and is really really good, even he can’t teach me. I suck. Plus I like having pretty nails and I’d have to totally cut them and then I’d look like I have short man hands with ugly nails and that is so unacceptable. I’m too girly for that to ever happen.


9.) I can’t stand the smell of olives. There’s an olive bar at the grocery store and I try to avoid walking by it because to me, it smells like dirty socks, b/0 and dog shit.


10.) I watch 3 soap operas. Not fully but I turn them on if I’m puttering around in the livingroom and half watch/listen. It’s just that I’ve been into them since I was like 15 and how, I ask you, could I give them up at this point? It’d be like, you know, a sin or something.


There you have it. Ten things that, now that you know, you WILL sleep better tonight or perhaps you’re passed out now because I bored you to death. I’m so glad I could make that happen for you.

November 11, 2005

While reading my friend Penny’s “tagged” answers, I realized that I should have put Johnny Depp on my 7 Celebrity crushes but that would have made 8 but who says you can’t have 8 crushes? I know the question asks for 7 answers but hell, I’m gonna go out on a limb and say I have 8 and that last one is Johnny Depp. Ya. He’s hot.

November 9, 2005

A big thank you to Karen for taggin’ me yo’! Let’s get started!!!

7 celebrity crushes:
Chad Kroeger from Nickelback- Holy shit he’s hot when he rocks out.
Brad Pitt-I still kinda like him but after he cheated on his wife, well his hot level dropped. But in a pinch I’d hit it.
Matthew McCaughney-Wow. No description needed.
Vince Vaughn-After I saw him in Wedding Crashers I was like, he’s hot in a normal everyday kinda way. Nice smile. Very funny.
Colin Farrell-He’s a dirty boy. Yum.
Richard Gere-Yes he’s approaching the point where he could almost be my dad but I love his eyes…reminds me of my hubby, very sexy eyes.
Matt Damon-He’s sexy in a boy next door way….man I wish he was next door!

7 Things I’m good at:
Making graphics
Being a mom
Photography
Writing? Well some people are telling me that I am, so I will take their word for it!
XXX…can’t say. Hahahahaha.
Shopping…Yay!
Being a wife

7 things I plan to do before I die:

See my children grow up to adulthood

Have another photograph published

Have some writing published

Have breast implants…shut up.

Own my own house

Have a credit card…malls here I come…kidding…I need good credit!

Learn to swim…currently, I do a sad, pathetic dog paddle.

7 things I cannot do:

Stop worrying…..I’m a freak. Kinda.

Swim….read above.

Whistle with my fingers….Waaaaaa.

Stop worrying…..see I said I’m a freak.

Fly without getting nausous…thank God for Gravol.

Cook…read Raccoon Meatloaf

Leave my bed unmade…..FREAK.

7 things that attract me to the opposite sex:

Eyes…These are in no particular order BTW.

Hands

Mouth

Voice

Ass……well you know that would be on the list somewhere! Hubby’s is hot!

Masculinity….love a man’s man…which my hubby clearly is.

Intelligence

7 things I say often:

Oh My Gawd….all the friggin’ time.

Totally…Totally all the friggin’ time.

Frig….all the friggin’ time.

Shit Monkeys….Karen just loves this one…Riiiiiight.

I love you….to my family and friends.

Are you kidding me?….No I’m clearly not.

No this is NOT Tim Horton’s….Wrong numbers, gotta love them.

Thank you Karen, this was fun!!!!!