Some things you need to know...Part 1

                I specifically remember when I was a sophomore in college, I had a handful of girlfriends over, and I’m not sure how the topic came about, but it did….do women really poop during childbirth? This could not be true, I had to call my mom. So, with my friends surrounding me, I was about to prove the point that this is a complete myth. My mother has given birth to 3 children, one little one, one fat one, and then of course…a perfect one, she would be able to set us all straight.

Me: “Hey Mom, we have a weird question for you.”

Mom:  “Okay.”

Me: “Do women really poop during childbirth?”

Mom: (laughing) “Yes, they can.”

And that was all I needed to hear. I was never going to have children. I never forgot that, and it’s almost embarrassing to admit that I was thankful that I had a C-Section with my first child because the thing that scared me most was my husband watching me poop and me not knowing it happened. Awkward! Now, after two births, one c-section, one natural, I have learned that there are quite a few things that people do not tell expectant mothers…or expectant fathers for that matter.  After taking a small poll here is what I came up with….

1. Yes, many women do, in fact, poop during childbirth. You may never feel it, or even notice that it happened because everyone around you is embarrassed for you and they’ll never tell….unless you have a husband like mine.  Your body often has a natural was of cleaning itself out a few days before you go into labor, often times you may make many trips to the bathroom as part of the cleansing process, or maybe you just will not feel hungry.  The few days prior to each of my children being born I lost my appetite, but then again…I love food, so I ignored that natural appetite suppressant and continued to eat, you can imagine the outcome.

2. After childbirth, you may continue to bleed for several weeks. This is normal…but what is not normal is the size of the pads that they give you at the hospital. These pads measure approximately 14 inches by 8 inches. No, they don’t actually fit inside your underwear, they bunch up, and don’t even try walking around with those…I would have rather worn depends. At least I’ll know what to pack in my bag for my next baby!

3. Yes, your husband will want to be intimate with you again. Although he may tell you, “it can’t be any different than a cow giving birth,” it is. And yes, my husband told me that…he used to work on a dairy farm. Apparently another human making its way into the world by way of your wife’s  “hoohoo” has no impact on a man’s sex drive. He’ll be marking the calendar for those next 6 weeks to pass before you get the “okay” from the doctor to resume “normal activity.”

4. Day 4-5 after giving birth you are in horrible pain. Your stomach is cramping, it hurts to walk, move, anything...you should head to the bathroom. You probably need to poop. Yes, it's probably the scariest thing you've ever had to do, aside from actually birthing your child, and it may hurt a little...but the end result will do wonders for your stomach cramps.

5.   Finally…yes, it’s scary, but it’s not that bad. At least it wasn’t for me. I refused to be a screaming banshee during childbirth. As the nurse watched a severe contraction on the monitor my reaction, with a grimaced face, was “ouch.” Did I want to scream and tell my husband how much of an idiot I thought he was, and yell at the world…yes, but I refused. Women were built to give birth, and if it becomes difficult…they’ll do a c-section! It will all be over in a matter of time and you’ll quickly forget how horrible it seemed. Keep in mind, if it was THAT BAD, women would never have a second child!

               

I definitely need to be medicated...

            Waking up to a light rain this morning was a bit of a welcomed surprise. It’s been rather dry, and I’m not quite sure what grass mixture we have growing in our backyard, Desert Weed or Hillbilly Hay, but it’s not enjoyable to walk on barefoot…which is how we roll! Anyway, the rain was pleasant…until I had to take put the dogs outside in their kennel to feed them. Both of my dogs are pretty driven by any sort of food, but this morning there was no motivating factor behind plain old dog food for Mason. He stepped outside, saw a bolt of lightning and raced back into the garage. With one dog secured in the kennel, I raced back to the garage to find little Mason sitting next to the door shaking with fear. I put a leash on him, and ran as fast as I could while wearing Adam’s huge untied tennis shoes, my underwear, a t-shirt and no bra, back to the kennel to feed and secure Mason. Man, if my neighbors ever wanted a real circus show they should wake up early, put on their night vision goggles and just watch my backyard; it’s always a sight to see.

            After the dogs were fed, cats were fed, it was time for me to wake the kids up and feed them breakfast. Adam gave me a goodbye kiss and he left for work.  I climbed upstairs, first went to Benji’s room to turn his light on so we could try to avoid the gargoyle effect that happens each morning after dragging him out of bed, and then to Poo’s crib for a happy greeting. She awakens with a smile every day, I’m sure this will disappear when she’s a little older, but I love it now. As I pick her up and start to walk downstairs, I hear a door slam. I froze. Then I hear the refrigerator door open and someone shuffling things around. It must be a hungry, masked murderer here to kill me and steal my kids. I hold Presley tighter, stand quiet for a moment, and then say, “hello?” No answer. “Adam…?”  It was Adam, I breathed a sigh of relief and proceeded downstairs. Of course it was Adam, why would a murderer be going through the fridge? Adam leaves again…for real this time! I place Presley in her seat, give her a breakfast of an egg and sliced bananas, and creep back upstairs to sing Benji awake. He slowly crawls out of bed, I carry him downstairs, and he follows his normal predictable routine of pointing to the lounge chair and then pointing to the remote. Benji doesn’t talk in the mornings until he’s had his “juicy,” his morning fix.  I turn on the tv to G.I. Joe Renegades which is his other morning addiction, and look out the back window into the dark yard. Meanwhile, I’m imagining that there is a killer waiting in the garage for me. I’ve grown a lot of expertise in the “stay calm for your kids” skill, so on the outside I may look calm and cool, but my mind is usually pretty skeptical of the killers and rapists that wait behind every corner. I know, once again, I should probably be medicated. After the morning routine nears finality, I run outside to start my car. It’s still raining and occasional bolts of lightning and booms of thunder are happening. And yes, my mind overtakes me once again…now I panic because I’m pretty damn sure that I’m going to be struck dead by lightning, and Adam will return home from work this afternoon to find me lying breathless in the yard, Ben still watching Ninjas on TV and Presley screaming in her highchair.

            I survived. My kids were driven safely to daycare, and I made it safely to work. I think that having children has caused me to become a paranoid schizophrenic. Five years ago I did not have any of these irrational fears, but now I’m always quite sure that I’m going to end up dead and my kids will have to grow up without me. Let’s hope that doesn’t happen. As I walked in to work though, and began to relax a little, I had a horrid realization…I had left my cell phone somewhere. Now, how the hell am I going to get through nine hours of work without my connection to the outside? Surely today will be the day that the world will come to an end and I’ll have no way of calling Adam to warn him.

Ben's Photo Shoot

   I had an idea, and an inspiration, and being the impulsive person that I am my anxiety was racing all day while I planned to try my hand at photography with Presley. I bought a makeshift backdrop, had an outfit planned, and lots of cute props. After work, I raced home to find her screaming and moody...of course she wanted food. We made grilled pizza, AMAZING BY THE WAY, and she was happy...but dirty. So, to fulfil my need to be creative for the day, I took Benji out for a photo shoot!  The pictures tell the whole story...


This was my new inspiration.



First, my lil cowboy went riding through the woods.



And then, of course he was bored with the horse...





So we did some balancing.



And then that became a bore...





So it was time to fly.





He found a "stick gun."




But now we'll be serious...let's pose.





He's so annoyed right now.



And he's done...enough modeling.

   And that was our night!

Batman

Mason, thrilled as usual.

          I’m not sure at what point I need to begin making my little cowboy join the real world, but honestly, I’m probably not going to worry about it anytime soon. I love the imagination of kids, and the innocence, and the fact that they truly believe that they can be anything they want to be when they grow up…including Batman. The other day I asked Benji what he wanted to be when he grew up, he had 2 answers. The first was “strong like daddy” and the second was “Batman.” It’s rare that we leave the house without some piece of Lone Ranger or super hero gear on, and we never, ever leave without the essential bright blue cowboy boots that only come off for bedtime. I’ve even entered the room several times to find little Presley or Mason, our puggle, wearing a cowboy hat that Ben has placed on their heads. Ben is living in a completely different world than anyone else at this point. In his world, he can be Superman, Batman, and the Lone Ranger in the same hour, he can “fly” off of chairs and not worry about feeling the effects of it the next day like an adult would, and he can feel unashamed when dressing up like his idols. We only get to do that on Halloween! As we leave the privacy of our home, Ben receives several compliments on his cowboy boots, but usually fails to take note of this as he sees nothing at all unusual about wearing cowboy boots, or capes, or masks while everyone else is dressed so generically. I can’t wait until Presley is a little bit older so I can take a fairy princess and a cowboy with a cape to the grocery store! I can’t emphasize enough, the innocence, imagination, and blissful unawareness that children have…and the fact that we stifle this by molding them into what everyone else thinks they should be. I wish that Benji could grow up to be Batman, but I doubt that he’ll ever have a job offer after showing up to an interview in a cape and mask…and cowboy boots! It’s inevitable, they will have to grow up and learn social norms, but for now, I’m going to hold on to my space ranger as long as possible!

He Needs a Toothbrush

            “Please take me out for a very surprising and super romantic date Saturday night after the kids go to bed.”  I anxiously awaited a reply to this text message that I had sent to my husband on Thursday. And nothing.  I shouldn’t say nothing, but it seemed like forever. I waited a couple of hours before getting the okay for my “surprise date!” Saturday night rolled around, we had a babysitter, and not knowing where we were going I slipped on a flowery summer dress, 1 inch heels, and straightened my hair…I figured this look could fit in most places! Luckily, I was right. Adam took me to a nice restaurant that I had never been to, our food was decent, but more importantly…we were out on a date, no kids, just us! People always say that you shouldn’t talk about your kids, or anything else that could be a stressful topic while out on a date with your spouse, it should be a time to reconnect and rekindle. Well, I don’t know about everyone else, but we ALWAYS talk about our kids when we’re away from them! As we started reminiscing, I was reminded of some of the fears that I had before giving birth to my first child. Below is a list of 5 of the things that scared me most…

1. Will my husband ever want to have sex with me again after watching me give birth?

2. I’ve heard that people poop during child birth…OMG…I CAN’T EVEN FART IN FRONT OF HIM!

3. Adam trying to be reassuring, but scaring the hell out of me with this statement, “Raising a kid can’t be that much different from having a puppy.” And yes, he was serious.

4. As we’re registering for baby items for my upcoming shower Adam says in a panic, “We have to register for a toothbrush. He is going to need a toothbrush. If we don’t brush his teeth he’ll get mildew in his mouth.” (Really?? Mildew? He doesn't even have teeth.)

5. In this hospital awaiting my emergency C-Section Adam says, “I’ve heard it’s just like gutting a deer.”

            After the fear that these statements and thoughts had filled me with, I was pretty sure that I’d be a single parent after a month!  Apparently I was the only one concerned that parenting would be difficult, and definitely the only one concerned that Adam wouldn’t ever look at me the same way after watching me give birth. Although he was fearful of mildew building in our soon-to-be born baby’s mouth, he didn’t seem worried about much else, even as I was in labor at the hospital. I had no idea how I was going to do all of this alone, I had forever only been responsible for myself and my dogs…and dogs are easy, most of the time. According to my husband a baby wasn’t going to be any different. Thankfully, my fears became his reality…well some of them. The c-section was similar, but not quite like “gutting a deer.”  We both quickly realized that when the baby cried or didn’t want to sleep at night, we couldn’t kennel him or put him in the garage. Adam realized that mildew doesn’t form inside of baby’s mouths. And I learned how a man changes after his child is born. He fell in love with lil Ben. He became a daddy, and now that Benji is 3, he loves to play ball with his daddy. My irrational fears are gone, although maybe not that irrational, but they are gone. Now I’m onto a whole new set of irrational fears…like the world coming to an end in a few months and accidentally farting in my sleep.

I'll keep Pretending...

Alarm sounds at 5:30am, snooze. Oh, and by the way, what kind of alarm only has a 5 minute snooze button? Mine does. 5:35….snooze. 5:40….once again, snooze, and of course 5:45 am…time to drag myself out of bed. Presley is already awake crying, the dogs are running in circles around me because they need to go outside and want their breakfast, and then I stumble over my shoes that I had left in the middle of the living room as I must have just walked out of them on my way to bed last night, I have no recollection of this. Groggily, I lift my feet one by one up the steps to find my screaming Presley standing in her crib, apparently starving. I pick her up, take her downstairs to her highchair and give her some bananas and cheerios to content her while I make her usual morning egg. I now have about 2 minutes to let the egg cool, during this time I quickly let the dogs outside to pee, feed them, feed the cats and check on the bunnies…and I’m back in the house before Presley starts “starving” again. Yes, this is when I get most of my exercise, I’m so glad that most of my neighbors are still sleeping at this hour, it might be a little awkward for the people next door to see a girl running through her backyard in underwear and a t-shirt carrying two bowls of dog food. I grew up in the country and I refuse to change my habits! Anyway, I give Presley her cooled off “eggie” and it’s now time to wake Benjamin up. This task is comparable to trying to drag a troll out from under a bridge…scary and dangerous! After poking, prodding, coaxing, and singing my little cowboy awake, he tells me that he cannot walk. It’s 6am and I really don’t feel like fighting so I carry him downstairs where he is placed in the recliner. Ben doesn’t usually have many words in the mornings, he just points to most things. This morning as we walked downstairs he pointed to the chair, so without argument that’s where he remained until 6:30 when we had to leave! I got him dressed, Presley dressed and cleaned up, and now time for myself. Thankfully it was yet another casual day at work, so even with a cute black top and some heels I can pull off the image that I actually have my life together! I put on my shirt, jeans, cute heels, earrings, brush my teeth, run my fingers through my hair and it’s time to go. I'm going for the carefree and beautiful look if you couldn't tell! Out the door, kids buckled in the car, myself buckled and we’re off. The morning starts off slow as usual, still groggy, but it starts to pick up after my morning caffeine kicks in and my brain begins to wake up.

After several trips to the bathroom, break-room, supervisor’s office, friend’s desks…I realize that I’ve been wearing my shirt backwards all day. It was now 1:15pm. I had gone about 7 hours walking around pretending to have myself together…and then really…a backwards shirt? Nobody had said a thing, I’m not sure if they hadn’t noticed (unlikely) or were just being nice.  Even Ben was able to place his cowboy boots on the right feet this morning. One of these days I’ll get it right, but for now I’ll just keep pretending!   

This is how I want people to see me every day.

 But...this is what I look like when I wake up.

And this is what I feel like most mornings.

What's Daddy Saying?

          I arrived home around 5:30 last night from work, my energy was lacking…dinner was going to have to be postponed a few minutes. With Presley in my arms, I retreated to my basement hideout, turned on the TV and nearly fell asleep….nearly. Presley wasn’t going to let that happen of course. After a few minutes of the little bit of relaxation that one can have while watching an infant, I dragged myself off the couch and upstairs to start getting dinner around. I had not been sleeping well, and the 10 minute “almost nap” didn’t revive me…dinner was going to be eggs and hotdogs. Perfect combination, right? At least something in the mix is healthy, right? The side dishes to my dinner fit for cowboys and little princesses were frozen rasberries, cherry tomatoes, and two different kinds of potato chips for lil Benji. I’m pretty sure if allowed he would make potato chips his entire meal any day of the week! Adam was on his own tonight, he wasn’t feeling the eggs and hotdogs.

          As Adam and I talked about the day and the frustrations I had been having with my recent lack of “me” time and feeling so run down, you know, the usual talks that every mom has with every dad when the children are young. Althought it appeared that Benji was preoccupied with his bbq and plain potato chips, he was indeed listening. They’re ALWAYS listening, but they don’t always know what we’re saying. About 10 minutes after Adam and I had moved on with other things, and the conversation and ceased, Ben says, “mommy, what was Daddy saying when he was talking to your boobies?” Of course, I had no idea what he was talking about. I replied with, “Benji, dude, I have no idea what you are asking me.” And again, “What did Daddy mean when he was talking to your boobies?” Now Adam interjects with, “What on earth is he asking?” Meanwhile, Presley is gumming down frozen raspberries, she obviously didn’t care who was talking to my boobies. I satisfied Ben’s curiosity by explaining to him that his daddy was not talking to my boobies, and that he was in fact, talking to my face! 

          I remember when I was a young child staying with my cousins while my mom worked. We were all riding our trikes and toys in a circle in the driveway. My younger cousin had stopped, which in turn caused all of the followers to stop. One of the on-looking adults said, “Thomas…move ahead.” Little Tommy stared and continued to sit still. “Thomas, move ahead,” a little more stern this time. And again, Tommy didn’t move. A third time, “THOMAS, MOVE AHEAD!” Tommy got up off of his toy, walked to the closest cousin behind him on a different toy, placed his hands on their head and turned it sideways. He had moved a head, he did exactly what he had been told to do! That story has been in our family for years and it always gets a laugh out of anyone we tell it to! It makes you understand how literal children take our words and actions. I have no idea how Ben got the idea that his daddy was talking to my boobies during our conversation, but obviously something must have happened or a word was said that he interpreted in a different way. Next time Adam and I need to have a conversation though, I’ll be sure to make sure he’s looking at my face the whole time!