Friday, March 22, 2013

Ready or Not, Here They Come (Part I)

I've talked about finding out I was pregnant and some pregnancy stuff, so I think it's about time I get down to the nitty gritty and discuss the day they were born. There may be some gross things, so any man reading this, I caution you. But, for any man that's grossed out by words like "amniotic fluid" or "placenta" remember, I'm assuming most of you place your dong where those come out (not in mine, of course), so it can't be that gross.

I was told by my doctor that full term for twins is 38 weeks and they would schedule an induction at that time. I was confident that I would go into labor myself before then, partly because I was terrified of being induced. The only induction I'd ever been apart of was with my sorority and I assumed this one would have more pain and less beer. I was also told there was a possibility I could go into labor at any point, especially after 35 weeks. However, my stubborn Polish daughters decided they'd make themselves cozy until they were forced to be evicted.

Towards the end of my pregnancy, I was extremely and understandably uncomfortable. I wasn't huge, but I felt like a walrus. I couldn't sleep for more than an hour or two at a time and I often stayed up all night and tried to sleep during the day without much success. So many people would laugh and say "Just getting you ready for when they are here, HAHA!". While I understood what they were saying, I also understood no cop in their right mind would jail a pregnant beast who attacked someone for saying that stupid comment. The girls put so much pressure on my lower back and nether regions that I did everything to try and get comfy and get them out. I tried to bargain with them, I offered them money, I tried to get Baby A to fight with Baby B in hopes they would just accidentally fall out or bust through. I got so desperate for some kind of relief, I began to Raji. For those who do not know, Youtube "Raji Touchdown Dance" and that's what I looked like at 9 months.

Because all of my efforts were futile, I had my induction set for 0600 on Monday, November 7th. I of course could not sleep and I was starving because I couldn't eat after 10 pm on Sunday. At about 4 am, I heard a popping noise and I was terrified that I my water had broken. It had not and I had saved my guest bed a very wet surprise.

It was cold that morning and Brad and I headed to a local hospital which was about 2 miles from our house. By 7 am, we were all checked in and I had my first contraction while getting my gown on, although it could have been the girls planting their feet in protest . So I get into my bed while the nurses are looking for the best vein to put my IV in. They tried and stabbed three times before they got it in (kind of like the events that got me in this position to begin with) which caused me to go into some kind of shock. I was at the hospital for an hour and not even in labor yet and I'm about to pass out and start throwing up all over. I thought maybe I should have looked at Brad and said "Look what you did to me" but that may have been a little too dramatic a little too early. I'll save that for later. After that debacle, it was smooth sailing and the girls were born 15 minutes later. Just kidding.

My parents wanted to stay with me for the duration of the labor and they showed up a few hours into it. They, of course, were over the moon excited and impatient right off the bat. My brother was also there and got there about 3-4 hours into labor. They were lucky enough to miss my water being broke. I had heard all these horror stories about this being more painful than labor or contractions and I was pleasantly surprised that it did not hurt in the least. But I was naive and thought once the water was broken, it stayed broken. I didn't realize that it regenerated like some kind of weird alien water that squirts out whenever it wants. *Cough* Amniotic fluid. *Sneeze*Amniotic fluid. Laugh? *Ha* Amni *Ha* otic *Ha* fluid.

There's another thing that no one really tells you about being in labor. No one says that every nurse that works in the L&D unit will be coming by to check dilation. I had more hands checking me out downtown than high school and college combined.

Throughout the morning, I hadn't progressed much, maybe a centimeter. I was so hungry and my dad looked into the fridge and found some pudding. I was like, fuck yeah, pudding it is. A nurse had heard this and said "Whoops, no pudding for you. I don't know how that got into your fridge. Hmm". Uh, what? Freaking jello it is then I guess. Everyone else must have been sooo famished because those a-holes all left me to go and eat. I'll be fine, just attempting to get this baby party started, but no, you go ahead and eat. I've got ice chips to hold me over until I can eat again in 24 hours. And wouldn't you know, within 15 minutes after they left, I began having the worst contractions. The kind that make you curse every time you ever hade sex in your life and the kind that make you cling to the sides of the bed in pain. But I made 'er until they all got back. I could have bore holes through them with my intense laser eyes when they got back, but I couldn't chance having them explode and get pizza and subs all over the room.

This seems like a good cut off point. Suspenseful, dramatic, people exploding. I promise I'll have part II up soon after this one. I have important texts to send.

Sunday, March 10, 2013

Shop Til you Drop, Grocery Style.

If there's one thing in the world that I hate, it's going grocery shopping. And hippies. And politicians. And green beans. Ok, so there's a lot of things in the world that I hate, but grocery shopping is at the top of the list. I go once a week and usually go between a mega-store (Woodmans) and a regional store (Festy). Being a SAHM, others may see this as an opportunity to "get out" like a mini vacation. "Oh, you do get to go out to the store, isn't that a nice little break?". Well, if someone thinks going to the grocery store is a vacation, I have a nice time share to sell you in Cuba. I could send Brad to the store. I have threatened to do so on a few occasions, but when push comes to shove, I'm a way better, smarter, thriftier shopper then he is, partially because I'm cheap as fuck. Everyone has experienced this chore and if you haven't, you should thank whoever goes out and shops because honestly, I'd rather get a bikini wax with lukewarm wax than do this. Regardless, I will take you through a typical supermarket sweep in the Tarable'sTwo household.

Friday Night, typically 7:30pm: Babies are put to sleep, dinners over and I still have 3.5 hours until "Duck Dynasty" reruns are on. I've fiddled with different times and days to go to the store, but I find that this is the optimal time to go out if I have to go across town to Woodmans. I get into the car and my grocery shopping jam is on: "Eye of the Tiger". It really gets me in the mood to find deals. I am determined to slap my grocery bill in the (figurative) face with all my savings.

8:00: Now, if you've never been to a big mega discount grocery store like Woodmans before, it is quite the experience. First off, it's fricking ginormous and secondly, it's pretty much picked over at this time and day of the week. So it's off to the produce area to sort through that junk. Is this supposed to be fuzzy? I haven't seen anything that shriveled up in quite a while.

8:15: First dilemma. Should I get my meat and whatnot first before my canned goods and chance it might thaw out and poison us all? Ah, what the hell, the babies don't really eat all that much meat anyway and I could stand to lose a few lb's.

8:30: Second dilemma: Frozen desserts. They look so tasty. Sugar's good for you, right?

8:32: Now the shit show known as canned foods part aka the entire middle of the store. It's not so much the fact that every time I touch a canned good, I get an electric shock and when I pull away in pain, I receive a second, more lethal one from the cart that feels like the fence from "Jurassic Park". No, no. It's the fact that even at 8:30 at night, there's still a crap ton of people shopping and it seems everyone is going to the same aisle. Worse, is the cart-rage I get from stupid people stopping in the middle of the aisle, blissfully unaware of EVERYONE else around them. And then everyone being so nice to one another, trying to let the other person go first. I feel like I should put a snow plow in the front of my cart to move the stragglers along. Then there's a big traffic jam because everyone's so nice and can't figure out how to maneuver their carts. Really people, we aren't playing Tetris. The carts will fit through.

8:45: Finally make it across the store and I feel like I'm forgetting something. Of course. Whatever it is, it's on the clear other side of the store, over some mountains and teenager stock boys.

9:01: Shit, it's past the time they sell alcohol. I really wanted a bottle of mommy juice... wine. I guess I'll just have to start day drinking next week like I've been planning. On a side note, on another occasion at the other store I go to I had been shopping as fast as I could, because I wanted to purchase a bottle of Moscato and it was 8:45. I had gotten done in record time and they had 1 damn check out person. With, I kid you not, 8 people with full carts in front of me. I'm rarely one to speak up in public. I mostly mutter and complain under my breath, but this was the last straw. I said somewhat loudly, "Really, one cashier for all these people?", I scoffed and muttered "I have things to drink, people." I was getting really angry and fearful I wouldn't be able to check out in time. But a higher being helped out and I was done checking out by 9:00. I guess it wouldn't have been a big deal if I didn't get the wine. I live quite close to a bar.

9:15: The young check out girl, clearly thrilled that a bunch of assholes think this late on a Friday night is the best time to grocery shop, quickly scans everything and silently stabs me in the eyes in her mind. But I'm relieved this trip is almost done.

9:20: FREEDOM!!!!!!!!! Now, is Culver's still open? Because I'm hungry and there's nothing to eat.

10:00: FUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK, I forgot buns.