What I Learned Wednesday-5/1/13

Parent-Wise:

 

The girls are polar opposites at times. The weather is starting to get nice here and they have been outside a lot. One loves the outdoors and will explore and run around, while the other is literally frozen in one spot out of fear. I think next time, I'll park my chair next to her and have her hold my drink.

 

 

 

Life-Wise

 

There are generational gaps all over the place. I don't know if I'm just at that age where it's a middle ground or if I'm just that out of touch with those who are younger and older than myself. Case in point: If I were to say "This shit is bananas, B-A-N-A-N-A-S", a bunch of youngin's would say "That was my favorite song in 4th grade". Gahhh. The opposite of that? I was driving with my mom and told her the song on the radio was my favorite. She asked who it was and I said "The Black Keys". "Oh! The Black Eyed Keys?". Not quite.

 

 

Bonus

 

I'm enjoying the subject of generation gaps so much, I think it'll be my next post. Stay tuned!

What I Learned Wednesday-4/24/13

Parent-Wise

 

I learned that children will mimic the shit out of you whether you like it or not. For example, if you partly lift up your shirt, in broad daylight, in front of your living room window (not realizing of course) to scratch your belly, they will also do this. Remind me not to scratch my ass in front of them.

 

 

 

Life-Wise

 

If you are going to surprise one of your friends with a birthday shot 10 minutes before midnight, make sure they aren't allergic to whatever you are giving them. It's not wise to kill the birthday girl. 

What I Learned Wednesday

I was thinking about starting a weekly little blurb to ensure I have something new every week. Since everyday is a learning experience (SOOOO clique), I think I'll write about 1 thing I learned about parenting and 1 think I learned in general. So here's the first entry!

Parenting

 

I learned this week that some genes are so strong, even if your child is not exposed to the behavior, they will engage in the behavior. Like pooping in the tub. Which I may or may not have done as a toddler myself.

 

 

 

General

Hollywood's always going to mess up any good memories you had as child. For example, Megan Fox as April in "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles". She's about as plastic as the mutant turtles. 

Ready or Not, Here They Come (Part II)

Ok, so where was I? Oh yes, everyone came back after lunch. And they all looked like this:

 The contractions were becoming more intense and the nurses had been telling me for the last few hours that I could have an epidural whenever. So when the nurse told me I could have the drugs anytime I wanted to, I felt like I should tough it out and experience "real" pregnancy pain. Like if I had it then, I would be missing out on something. Which is probably one of the dumbest thoughts I ever thunk. After a few more doozy's, I decided it was time for the good stuff. I had everyone leave the room except for Brad. The anesthesiologist came in, in all his red-headed glory. After signing all the papers dismissing liability of the hospital in case I became paralyzed because myself or the drug dr. sneezed and severed something or whatever, they shot it in me. God, there are so many dirty references during child birth. I am forever grateful that I was unable to see any of this being done and that it wasn't too horribly painful. But almost immediately, I could feel nothing from my udders down. No pressure, no movement, nothing. Not even when I pissed myself.

Nothing real exciting happened the next few hours. I had to have an internal and external heart monitor for the babies and they kept losing the "signal" on the external monitor, so they had to keep flipping me over. I felt like a pancake. During the course of these turns, I accidentally tooted, but played it cool. Don't look at me, I didn't do it. Those who felt it dealt it and I can't feel a thing. Then it dawned on me. If I couldn't feel that, what if I had been pooping this whole time? Dear lord, those poor nurses. I'll have to write them an apology note and send some candy. But not chocolate, I wouldn't want them to think I was mocking them.

The nurses kept coming in and checking to see how far my dilation had progressed and every time, it was hardly anything. Nothing was progressing and they kept upping the Pitocin. It was so disappointing because I thought I was doing good work but had no results. Like dieting.

It got later in the evening and everyone wanted to go out to eat. Again. Really guys, like you didn't already have TWO full meals and some snacks today?!? Don't you make me get up out of this bed. I will smack you with my IV hand. "It's ok" they said. "Watch some tv and rest" they said. "Monday Night Football is on" they said. Ok, it's cool, I'll rest with the babies trying to Kung Fu fight their way out. They all left and I turned on MNF, wondering who was playing. Hopefully it's not the Bears. Whew, it's the Eagles and they are playing the, NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO the Bears! Ugh, maybe I will try and sleep.

More and more time had passed with little to no progress. Everyone returned from eating and they brought my sister-in-law, Keri, with them. By this time, I was frustrated and upset that nothing was moving and that everyone kept asking "I wonder when will they be born? This is taking so long". The Pitocin was as high as it could go. My doctor finally showed back up, checked me and said she'd be back later.

After the entire day without progress, the doctor came in and told me that while I tried to have them naturally, it may be time to consider having a C-section. She told me, "You can continue to try to have them naturally, but I can't guarantee that you won't be in the same spot 12 hours from now". I told her I didn't want either option. She's smart, she's a doctor, I'm sure she could figure out another way.

We deliberated and decided we were going to go the C-section route. After this decision, things picked up pretty fast. Brad will try and convince you that the only reason I picked the C-section was because it was getting close to midnight and he had picked the 8th in the due date pool. This is not true, but it was an added bonus that he lost.

It was asked if I minded if my family could go into a room to see the girls being born. At that point, the film crew from "Jersey Shore" could have been in there and I wouldn't have cared. I was wheeled into surgery and prepped. The anesthesiologist came in and gave me an extra dose of pain meds, saying he was going to be my new best friend. I believe that it wasn't extra meds, but a shot of his ginger hair, which would explain the girls red hair. He also asked if I wanted some anti-nausea meds, which I declined because I felt fine. Approximately 3 minutes later, I began throwing up and took him up on his offer.

So this was it. I declined the offer to watch the surgery in the mirror for fear of passing out. My family didn't have that option. No one informed them or myself that the view they were going to get was of them cutting me open. They could see everything! But they were taking pulls from celebratory flasks, so I didn't feel too bad for them.

Once they started, it happened quickly. At twenty to twelve, they yanked Teagan out, with Caroline following a minute later. Of course, I had to act like a big girl and started crying after hearing Caroline cry. Brad got to see them first, but didn't watch as they were being taken out. He later told me he was terrified because Teags came out blue with a misshapen head. We later found out the reason why I hardly dilated was because Teagan was coming out forehead first and crooked. If you know her, it's  not too hard to believe that. She does what she wants.

The rest of the night went as follows. Mom sees babies. Mom can only see part of babies, so assumes she birthed only 2 sets of eyes with no bodies. Dad takes babies out to hoard of people, who cannot touch said babies because Mom hasn't held them yet and will destroy anyone who tries to touch them first. Mom finally meets little ones up close. Mom almost suffocates Caroline while breastfeeding. But that's a different post. Mom gets compression socks and everyone falls asleep.

So that's their story. It wasn't too dramatic or eventful. They obviously changed our lives and were the best things to happen to us, blah blah. Leave a comment so I know if you liked it or not. Which I'm sure you will,because I'm awesome and humble.

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.

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.

Bubble Girls

15.5 months. We made it 15.5 months with only one minor instance of any kind of sickness (I am knocking on wood right now). Until now. Teags came down some kind of bug that gave her a pretty high temperature and a case of the cuddles. Which is somewhat rare, because she'd rather smother her mother than snuggle. This didn't sit well with Caroline, who almost matched Teagan cry for cry the past few days.

Now I'm all for self-responsibility, but she obviously didn't give this sickness to herself, so I need to place blame somewhere else. And I blame the peds office. They have the waiting room divided into two sections: a "well" child section and a "sick" child section. Thank god germs are not airborne, otherwise the sick kids could infect the well kids (insert my not impressed sarcastic face here). I'm also glad they give the sick kids masks to wear. You know the ones I'm talking about right? The ones the kids take off in order to sneeze. Yeah, those.

 I mean, I should get used to this, right? Well maybe I don't have to get used to this because I have a practical, ingenious idea stolen from Jake Gyllenhaal and John Travolta movies. I'll just put the girls in a bubble! Their own separate bubbles of course. And only for the formative years. The only qualm I would have is that Caroline has a pretty stinky butt that may make her bubble uninhabitable for most of the day. And I'm worried about them running over rocks. And wind. Wind's a big issue. But other than that, I think it's a perfectly appropriate solution.

If the girls were in a bubble they wouldn't get sick, therefore, they wouldn't get me sick. I am also sick at this moment and although it's not horrible, it's still a pain in the buns.  I don't typically "do well" with sickness either. I'm fortunate I didn't have a temp as high as Teagan's because the last time I did, I hallucinated Asian children dancing and mocking me around my bed (true story). Teagan won't share her goldfish crackers with me, but she'll share whatever this is. I know the exact moment she infected me. She was sitting next to me on the couch and I allowed her to have her nuk because she wasn't feeling well. I was looking at her and she was looking straight forward. Then she sneezed. You're probably thinking "Oh, well if she was looking straight forward, the sneeze shouldn't have been by you". But you are forgetting she had a nuk in. And that nuk acted as a sneeze shield, which dispersed the sneeze SIDEWAYS!! And directly into my mouth. It was like every scene in the movie "Outbreak". I could actually hear my antibodies scream a collective "shit". It was karma because I laughed a few days earlier when one of the girls (probably Teagan the "Ebola Monkey") drooled into Brad's mouth. Or it was god punishing me. One or the other.


While three years ago, I could have just laid in bed, reading or watching movies all day, as a mother, you just have to power through it. There really are no sick days allowed sometimes (or snow days or mental health days or day drinking days).  So here's to hoping my baby feels better, I feel better and my other one doesn't get sick.

NOTE: No babies were placed in bubbles for the writing of this blog. Tarable's Two also doesn't suggest nor encourage you to place your baby in a bubble, because that's just crazy talk.






*Disclaimer* Before anyone freaks out and wants to scold me because I blamed the doctors office, I realize it was not their fault for my child's sickness. That was used for dramatic effect. And besides, everyone knows liberals are to blame....

That was a joke too, because I'm liberal from my mom's side...