Sunday, June 28, 2009

stuff I need to tell my therapist

Today in church there was more interpretive dancing, and then SPARKLES afterward, projected on the curtain behind the stage. I try to get into it, I really do. It's not for lack of trying. I just can't.

Whenever I share my opinion about a topic that is controversial, I will inevitably hear from someone how I shouldn't, because I could hurt someone else's feelings who doesn't share the same opinion. Tell me, friends, how responsible are we for someone else's reaction to our opinion? A little? A lot?

Well, I guess the thing that I could do is to stop sharing my opinions. But really, why? Let's just neuter it all! But wait. Here's the thing. If you don't agree and you don't want to engage in debate in a public forum, you don't have to read. Isn't that fantastic? I think it is. I really, really do.

Speaking of being friendly and what not, the other day Scott was driving and I was tweezing my chin. We came across a homemade yard sign that read, "Be the change!" He replied, "What the hell does that mean?" We both know what the point is, but really, is there much change going on? CHANGE THAT IS, UM, ACTUALLY GOING TO HELP OUR COUNTRY? Not so much. But, it was a nice, flowerly sentiment, backed up by little more than magic markers and Arianna Huffington's website.

Today during lunch I noticed my little four year old friend Lily sitting next to me, looking at me oddly. I suddenly realized that I was absentmindedly cradling my belly fat roll with my left hand. EWWWWWWWWWWWWW. Sorry, Lily. Sorry about that. And. Lucy? I'm sorry. I am totally the weird mom. Yes, I'll still have that cherry bling on my car when you graduate from high school.

Speaking of the cherry bling, I keep stalking the house we bought. Like, pulling into the driveway and staring at it. On Friday after our house closing went south, I drove down the street. Slowed down, all stalker-like. Well, wouldn't you know, Mr. Happy Homeowner, the guy who didn't want to leave his curtains for us, was sitting outside.

I pealed out of there, but I still think he knew it was me.

Why am I such a freak?

Hopefully we will close tomorrow, and then I will post all manner of photographs for your viewing pleasure.

Today at the restaurant everyone was fighting in their church clothes. Could I see some sort of study that tells me how many people who, dressed in their Sunday finery, curse their spouses and beat their children on Sunday morning?

It's epidemic. Scott and I were fighting, and so were the couple behind us.

After lunch today, I asked Scott to sit in our horridly hot car with the children while I went into a furniture store. While he was thinking of being a jerk and saying "No", he said to me, "What would Jesus do?" I said, "Jesus would want you to let your wife shop at the furniture store. How could Jesus NOT like a store with the name, 'Revival'?"

He let me go in.

Oh, one more thing. On Saturday I was unloading the contents of the sock drawer, and Lu helped.

She found something, and asked what it was, and I came up with something really quick and told her, "Um, yes, that is for mommy's back."

"But why is it pink?"

"Because it is for a girl. Let's put it up and go play outside!"

And then she said, "Mama? Can you use that on my back when I wake up from my nap?"

And I thought,

Really. They should have made me take a test before I was allowed to parent.

Friday, June 26, 2009

new house prophecies

Lucy, sitting on my lap: You are going to have a baby but you aren't.

me: Why do you say that?

Lucy:Babies can't grow in your belly. They get dead.

me: Oh, really?

gee, thanks for the stunning portrayal of confidence, kid. Though, were I you, I'd probably feel the same way about the merits of your mother's womb.

Lucy: Your babies are dead and they went up in heaven. Spell my name on the computer, Mama.

me: ok

Lucy: Mama? You will have a baby in our new house.

me: Will the baby live and have an anus? 

Lucy: no, the baby won't have an anus and her name will be Lily.

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

time to eat a cookie

It's tres chic to do the birthing thing "naturally" these days. Someone is already getting her hackles up, ready to tell me that women have been giving birth naturally for hundreds, thousands of years. It's only these days that the caesarian rate is up to 50% and the doors to Local General Hospital may as well be the gates to hell. Well, you're probably partially right.

I got together with a friend recently. She is five months pregnant. She and her husband have been leaning toward having their baby at a birth center. Two midwives are on staff; no doctors. My friend has one child already, and her birth experience with that baby was completely complication-free. The "dream" birth. She asked me what I thought of not having a doctor nearby, in case a caesarian was needed.

I hesitated in response, because I am definitely the worst-case scenario person. If it's going to happen during a birth, it will happen to me.

"1% chance, you say? Well, by golly, there are going to be 99 lucky ladies at the hospital tonight, after I get there!"

I suppose my response is tempered by the fact that I am severely OCD about these things. I have also HAD the bad happen to me, so it's a little more real to me than most. And maybe that fact alone bugs me just a little bit.

The first time we talked about it, I told her she should go to the birth center, and she should also have the midwife fashion a hemp nursing bra to be smoked after the baby is born.

All right, all right...I guess I just said that since her first birth went off without a hitch, she probably wouldn't have a problem going to a birthing center. When we talked about it again, I told her I would be more comfortable, myself, having the kid in a hospital, where someone was available to cut me open should I need it.

But that's just me.

It frustrates me that the options for women who want to have low-intervention births are so very slim. It's hard to find nurses that will actually take part in reading your carefully-scripted birth plan. You may get blank stares if you forego Pitocin. Doogie Houser may be more qualified to deliver your baby than the local birth center midwife. I hear that sexual doctor from the Village People is available, too. Anyway, I am aware that there are many highly qualified midwives. But when I hear through the grapevine that a midwife has told her patient not to worry because "c-sections are hardly ever necessary", I do tend to get little shivers up my spine. 

What I don't completely understand is this: what if you are at a birth center and suddenly you need an emergency section, like, 5 minutes ago? You can be driven to the hospital, but aren't there cases where a mom needs the surgery STAT? I know of at least 2 scenarios from blog land where the lack of a surgeon at the birth center, or lack of judgement on the part of the midwife, or both, cost moms their babies' lives. The stress of a labor that had gone on far too long was just too much for the baby. These women who go to these centers trust that the midwives caring for them will do what is best for them, even if that is recommending a c-section.

Conversely, it appears to me that if you are at a hospital and you are in labor and you ask to watch 90210 reruns on Channel 92, the surgeon will come in with a hopeless face, glance at the screen and say, "Wow, Tori Spelling was hot then, too...", roll up his sleeves andwhip out his newly-honed scalpel (which, in fact, has been surgically implanted to replace his index finger).

Where is the happy middle ground? I wanted to say "happy hunting ground", but isn't that where Native Americans go after they die? I will say it anyway.

Where is the happy hunting ground?

The whole "natural is better" argument sort of annoys seems more tired than the underwear I got in 1996. (A few days after the most horrifying high school dance. A story for another day, eh?) Women have been giving birth for thousands of years. Right. They've also been kicking off at a fantastic rate from the complications of "natural" childbirth, without the wonder of modern medicine along for the ride. Death and Syphilus are "natural processes", too. Do I have any takers?

This birthcenter, of course heavily pushes breastfeeding as well. A friend had trouble breastfeeding her first and stopped after two months. Dare I tell you how many women have told her she should have tried harder, that she really should have made more of an effort, that nursing is "natural"? I am not exactly sure how natural this is, but we can go with it anyway. (Hey, is that some dribbled milk on the desk? Isn't that some sort ofOSHA violation?)

Dang it, I think it's just a part of the breast pump. Would have been more exciting the other way. Once, I was looking at a J.C. Penney catalog and the pair of underwear the woman was wearing had two holes in them. Nothing like truth in advertising!

I am senile. I can't stick with a subject.

So, where were we. Yes. I don't get it. I mean, nursing was EASY PEASY for me. I nursed Asher for nearly two years. My boobs spurted milk like twin geysers. I don't think I'm really bragging about it, so much as I'm advertising the fact that I really am, at heart, a lazy person. If breastfeeding had taken much work at all I think I'd probably have given up. 

I can't imagine being in the situation where you pump for 2 hours and get 1 ounce of milk. Some womens' bodies are just made in that fashion. They are no better or worse mothers than I am, it's just biology, genetics, crappy luck. But why the judgement? Sometimes I want to say, "Yes, you had a natural birth, you had perfectly healthy kids, but YOU JUST GOT LUCKY!!!!!!!!!!!!!" But people really don't want to believe that. It's more fun and less stressful to believe that you just did something right. 

That's the crux of it, I guess.

I know many women who STILL beat themselves up over not being able to have their kids suck from the BOT* for an extended period of time. And I STILL beat myself up for not going for a more "natural" sort of birth with my second kid. Or that my first was born really messed up.

I forgot what the point of this post was. Oh, yes. What's your opinion? Birth center? Full Surgical Garb? Where's the middle ground? Probably doesn't matter.

Some days, I am excited for the time when I am not this age and moms aren't so mean to each other about their decisions. I suppose then it'll be: What kind of cars will we buy our kids? , Do we tell them about our past indiscretions?, Do we let them join the military? (yet another blog post...)

Does mothering ever get any easier?

*Boobs of Truth

Saturday, June 13, 2009


I asked the lady trimming my hair today if she gets many requests for mullets.

"Yes, actually!" She responds, not missing a stylist's step, "I am horrified but I have to fulfill the clients' request."

I tell her to do whatever she wants with my hair. It looks like a dead bird recently made a home there, and I just want it cut.

"How do you part it, usually?"

"Um, on the right. Wait, no, on the left. In the middle?"

She laughs. "There's no right answer. Sounds like you're so busy with your kids you don't have time to part your hair."

I laugh. There is truth in that statement.

She starts to cut it like hers, because I tell her I like her hair.

"Just no mullets!" I remind her, my tone full of jest and brovado.

Kevin, the receptionist, comes over to chat us up.

"Oh, Roxy! Is that the reverse mullet you've been telling me about?"

**sound of old Burt Bacharach LP's screetching to a halt, glass breaking**

The reverse mullet is now on my head.

Monday, June 8, 2009

spider dogs

It seems that the symptoms of OCD really dissipate when I am really busy. And that, friends, is a good thing.

I don't have so much time to say, "I am feeling this way," or, "I wonder why I am in this glut of emotion today," or, "Did I have a happy childhood?" All of those questions are good, but sometimes it's just good to be busy and not feel like you have to analyze everything TO DEATH.


We have our inspection today and I will take some more pictures of the house to post on here. We are so excited. So much has happened in these last four months. When my mom threw them all out there, I couldn't believe it:

1. Miscarriage and recovery

2. getting house ready to sell

3. selling house

4. major abdominal surgery on our 4 year old

5. Doing an hour-long ene*ma and other not-fun things to make sure the new an*us stays open

6. buying a house (complete with emotional breakdown in the car outside of the house - what? you just noticed I have a flair for the dramatic?)

7. picking my nose in traffic and trying to make it look like I was just itching it

So, you see, we have been busy. And, just a side note, we only have to do the an*al dilations once a week starting today, instead of 14 times a week! HOO-RAH!

Asher wants green pajama pants on his head. I must oblige.

Oh, before I go. Jen's husband is a genius (no, he really is a genius - off the charts IQ). He came up with the idea for Spider Dogs. Do you think they gobbled them up?

Yes, Lucy looks like she is pregnant because she gets lots of gas in her tummy in the afternoons. Get this - she doesn't know how to pass it! Only time she can is when she is sleeping. Then it flies out. There is some irony in there, somewhere...

Asher's sunburn. Repeat: I am a good mother...I am a good mother...I am a good mother...

Well, I'm off to find something to obsess about.

Saturday, June 6, 2009

the obligatory Tiller post

While I am pretty sure for arguments' sake that we can all agree than an 8 or even 11 week fetus does not feel the pain of being aborted, this is not true for a late-term baby. Of course, there is the long-standing ethical debate of when this life becomes its own human entity, but for arguments' sake, I think I'm only talking about late-term abortions here.

They called him "Tiller, Tiller the baby killer." I believe he did just that, and looked plenty of those babies in the eye while they died. No matter your views on abortion, there is no denying that these babies could have lived outside the womb were they not shown the door first. Most of these babies are 30+ weekers, people.

I am confident that Tiller had convinced himself that he was simply helping women. I am sure he golfed, got into arguments with his wife over who was getting the bread and milk, and had morning breath. By all accounts he was a compassionate and caring man.

Had we decided to terminate our pregnancy with Lucy, we would have been on the brink of going to an office like Tiller's. We were fast approaching the legal cut-off dates for an abortion at your standard OB practice, and our doctor let us know. It grieves me so much to know that there are women out there who were in similar situations to mine who made the choice to abort because the doctors gave their babies no hope for survival. I know that it happens all of the time. The federal funding of abortion clinics, lifting of restrictions on a doctor even needing to state the medical reason he is performing the abortion, and lack of help for struggling pregnant women have all served to further propogate this mess.

I will again say that I'm not sure in how many cases a partial birth abortion is necessary to save the mother's life. Why is a dead fetus more "safe" for mom than a live one? There are, of course, exceptions, such as Cecily's case. Her boys were too young to have ever survived life outside the womb. They were delivered, as she was on the brink of death and her husband had to make the harrowing choice.

I'm still scratching my head a bit, though, wondering what some think his murder accomplished. Let's look at the facts:

1. He was sitting in church when he died. A murder of a man sitting in church does not look so great.

2. There is already a huge portion of the population that views pro-lifers as wingnuts. This murder just propogates that stereotype further.

3. Do you really think there aren't more doctors willing to do what he did lining up at the gates? For one thing, his practice was vastly profitable. For another, many of these doctors believe, as he did, that they were simply helping women making one of the hardest choices they would ever have to make. What are you planning to do, kill them all, with your "hey guys, I'm 45 and I still live in my mom's basement" mafia-style abortionist killing army? (I should cut him a little slack; I hear he was mentally ill.)

4. Hey, can't you just envision that guy, sitting in his basement with a wife beater on, his mom calling down the steps telling him his laundry is done? I bet there were pictures of dead feti all around while he was planning his attack.

5. The only way to truly institute change is through the proper channels - i.e., legislation. Vote. Make your voice heard.

6. Murdering a murderer justifies nothing. It only makes you a murderer as well.

6. There is no 6.

I am done.

Wednesday, June 3, 2009


We bought it.

Every house we looked at I compared to that one. EVERY ONE. We tried to think of reasons we shouldn't buy it. We waited a week and a half. We prayed. None of the other houses we looked at did we like as well (and we looked at a LOT - and a lot of super nice houses). We both were in love. We tried not to be, we looked at 30 more houses... and we still loved this one.

We looked at it again last night. Yep, still in love - only now, it was like marriage. You know, we didn't have the haze of the first crush any more... and it looked even better.

Today, after we looked at two more, Scott had to pull me back from the edge. We parked in front of the house and I cried and then we made a decision.


Monday, June 1, 2009

should we just rent?

our wandering hearts keep going back to the house that stole our hearts in the beginning. we saw a beautiful one yesterday, but it didn't have four bedrooms. We feel like if we are going up into this price range, we want 4 bedrooms. this house we love is in the neighborhood we want. it has four bedrooms. two baths. it is all fixed up.

i have a crush on the house.

The price they are asking is a fair price, but not a steal.

can somebody tell me what to do?