Okay. I gotta post about the "baby blues" because I'm finally over them, and they freaked me out like crazy. I want other new moms to know what I went through so they maybe won't feel so crazy if they experience the same thing.
So, the first week-ish home was not that big of a deal to me. It was pretty easy, really, because Samuel slept so much. After the first 4-5 days though, holy cow. All hell broke loose. He started crying a LOT more, and we couldn't figure out why. Then my incision started leaking fluid. (I know, trust me, it was every bit as disgusting as it sounds.) So then I was super freaked out that it was getting infected. And I think it might have been, but I started on antibiotics that same night and I'm pretty sure that made all the difference. On top of that, Sam was starting to breastfeed for 30 minutes to an hour every time. I was worn out and drained, literally. So with all that, plus the pain from the incision, plus my insane emotions, I was at the end of my rope. I was crying over anything and everything. I felt like a horrible mother because I didn't feel like I could comfort or take care of my son, and how pathetic was that? I felt like such a failure, and so frustrated. And sad, because this new life was NOT all daisies and roses like I thought it would be. I mean, I knew it would be tiring, but I didn't expect to feel so depressed about it all. I felt like my life was over, and this new one totally SUCKED. Sometimes thoughts would go through my mind like, "Maybe I'm just not cut out to be a mom and I should give him up for adoption so he has a good life with a good mom who knows what she's doing," etc. And I would cry. And then I would feel even sadder because the thought of being without my baby boy was horrible. And I would cry some more. On top of that, as my breastmilk decreased and kept on decreasing, I felt like an even worse mother because I couldn't provide "good" nutrition for my baby. More crying. And then looking in the mirror...ugh. Having a baby changes your body. I knew that would happen, but seeing that on top of everything else...it was like the icing on the crying cake. So with all that, plus trying to remember what time I last took meds, what time I last breastfed him, plus sheer exhaustion on top of all that, I was majorly down in the dumps. I thought I should be able to do it all, and know what I'm doing, no problem. Every other mom seemed to inherently know all these "mom" things; why didn't I? Everyone I talked to told me it would get better, especially after the first SIX WEEKS. That time frame is not something you wanna hear when you're at the end of your rope already after not even TWO weeks. But every day, I just kept on keeping on. The days blended together; I seriously barely even knew what day of the week it was.
One night, when we woke Samuel up for his 2:00 am feeding, he would NOT go back to sleep. Would. Not. Do it. I was up with him for two hours, then he woke up about an hour and a half after I finally got him to sleep. I was getting up with him at all feedings that night so that Jesse could get a good night's rest before work in the morning. Well, that backfired. His scream-crying woke Jesse up; he was frustrated, I was frustrated, and Sam was just downright pissed. It was a BAD, BAD night. I decided that night that I was NEVER waking this baby up at night to feed him. Never again. And then the more moms I talked to, the more I realized that like NO ONE does that, and their babies didn't starve to death during the night, so he would be okay. So that night, we let Sam wake us up when he was ready to get up, and he slept for five and a half hours straight. I woke up that next day feeling like a million freaking bucks. My level of depression went from about a 9 to a 4. It was awesome. Sleep is so important...I never realized how much so before. That decision to let Sam sleep through the night was what jump-started the end of my baby blues. Thank God, because I seriously thought that I was gonna need some depression meds. Which I was totally fine with. Just whatever it took to get back to normal. I was just ready to feel like my old self again.
Every day since then has been better and better. Not all have been perfect, and yes, I still have my crying moments, but they are few and far between. I know what I'm doing now; I know how to take care of my baby. I know how to comfort him. I feel like a MOM now, and that has been awesome. So, new moms, or new moms-to-be, do NOT worry if, after you have your baby, you have these insane thoughts and feelings. It's normal. I promise. I thought the "baby blues" wouldn't affect me, I really did, because I don't ever get depressed, hardly ever. I barely even gave it a second thought, even though I read books that talked about it. I just thought, "Whatever, that's not gonna happen to me. Does not apply." But it did, and it was scary, feeling the way I did and not being able to do anything about it.
The biggest piece of advice I have for new mamas is this: Don't be afraid to let people help you, especially those first few weeks. Just take your pain meds, veg out on the couch, heal, and take care of that baby as best you can. And cry. Just get it out. Don't even try to hold it in because it's gonna come out anyway, like explosive diarrhea. And don't be scared. I was terrified the first two weeks. I couldn't even hardly eat I was so scared and anxious. Every time he would cry, my stomach would knot up and I would think, "Aw crap, what is it NOW? What if I can't fix it or make it better? What if he doesn't stop crying?" But even if it takes two hours, you WILL figure out what's wrong, and he WILL stop crying. And probably long before the two-hour mark. So there's nothing to be scared about. You just pick up that sweet baby and take care of him. You're his mama and the one person he wants and needs most. I didn't believe it when people would tell me that at first because I felt so stupid and clueless, but it's true. Once I got over the initial shock of my life completely changing forever, and got used to a new normal, life got a lot easier. And honestly, all the difficult days and nights are totally worth it. I'm sleepy a lot, but I don't even mind. I'm used to not getting a ton of sleep. And Diet Mt. Dew and Starbucks help a lot too. And naps. I love me some naps. And so will you. :)
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
This Baby Bizniss (AKA: thelongestpostever)
So, my life has changed drastically since my last post. Ya know, having a baby and all. So, here's what you've all been looking forward to for the past nine months: the story. In great, delicious detail. ;)
Sunday morning I woke up at 7:45 because my back was hurting and I could NOT for the life of me get comfortable. I figured I'd try to sit up on the couch and maybe sleep that way, but as soon as I got comfy there, I felt the strangest feeling. At first I thought the baby was kicking me really high up, but when I put my hand on my belly, the entire thing was rock hard. Everywhere. So I knew it was a contraction, but I'd had a Braxton Hicks the night before so I wasn't that worried about it. Well, throughout the day, I started feeling pain, pain, and more pain with the contractions, so I finally called the hospital. I told them I'd be there in an hour. I had laundry to finish first.
An hour later, off we went to the hospital. They checked me first and then monitored my contractions for two hours. According to them, during that time I went from a one to a four. That's some fast vaginal yawning there. So anyway, they admitted me to the hospital, a really nice (young, like, my-age-young) doctor, Dr. Fong, took care of me until 10:00 when he had to run to Baptist to assist in another delivery there. So all this time I'd been laying in bed, reveling in the meds from my epidural [just so you know, the epidurals hurt worse than anything in delivery. The effects are awesome and totally worth it, but holy crap, be prepared.], and having major conctractions. The doc came into my room before he left and told me that by that time I should've been "complete," meaning totally dilated, and I wasn't. He said if I wasn't complete by the time he got back we were just gonna do a C-section because this baby needed to come out. Which was fine with me, because at that time they thought he was gonna be an 8.5 lb baby, and I wasn't too keen on squeezing that through my lady tube. Plus, earlier, when they broke my water, they saw that the baby had pooped in the womb, and they knew he needed to come out asap.
Well, long story short, nothing had changed and they prepped me for a C-section and wheeled me back to the OR. (And if you think that getting a C-section means you won't have to deal with anything embarrassing, think again. They gave me some medicine that tasted like extreme Sweet Tarts so I wouldn't get sick to my stomach from all the medicine, and I barfed it all up. While I was laying down, so that it went all over my hair and left shoulder. And there was no way I could hop off that table and get cleaned up, so the nurse did the best she could. I was so doped up though I barely even cared. Plus it smelled good, like Sweet Tarts. :-D)
So they wheeled me back to the room, got me onto the operating table, put the curtain up, tested me to make sure I couldn't feel anything, let mom and Jesse into the room to sit by me, and started cutting away. Mom held my hand and prayed the whole time, and Jesse rubbed my face and talked sweet so I wouldn't be scared. I loved it. :) All I could feel the whole time was a bunch of tugging and pressure, and then I heard the doctor exclaim, "Oh my goodness, look at the hair on this little guy!" and then she said something about the cord being wrapped around his neck one time, another good reason we did the C-section, although we weren't aware of that specific situation at the time we made the decision. Not too long after that, they held up a purple little cone-headed, dark-haired baby for me to see, and I started crying immediately, and then laughed because his head was so cone shaped, and it was funny. Poor little guy. He'd been in my birth canal for so long trying to come out, but it just wasn't happening.
After that, Jesse brought him over to me all wrapped and bundled up, and I reached out and touched his sweet little face and then they whisked him away. I didn't get to see my baby again until the next morning, because he had to go into the Special Care Unit. He wasn't able to breathe very well on his own and had to be put on oxygen, and they had lots of poop to clean out of him, poor thing. I was so sad that I didn't get to see and hold him right away, but I understood why and I just wanted what was best for him.
The next morning at six thirty, I was sleeping away when the nurse came in and woke me up. She asked if she could wheel me to the nursery because Samuel was crying and they couldn't calm him down and told her to come get me because "he just needs his mama." I was like, "Heck yeah, take me down there!" She laughed and we headed that way. I had to close my eyes because the pain meds they had me on made me dizzy. So anyway, they wheeled me into the nursery and pulled my little boy out of a bed where he had oxygen in his nose and everything. He was crying and crying, but as soon as they put him in my arms, he quieted right up and turned his head to me and cuddled. My heart melted, absolutely melted, and tears just started streaming down my face. He was so precious, and finally I was getting to meet my boy face-to-face. I held him as long as they'd let me, crying the whole time. Then they let me breast feed him for the first time, skin-to-skin, which is an amazing thing, as you other mamas who've done it know. My nurse offered to get my cell phone for me so I could take a picture with him, and that's the picture my credit union peeps saw, from the very first time I got to meet my little man. Incidentally, I was still bare-breasted, so enjoy that picture, y'all. ;)
Later that morning, the doctor checked him over one last time and said he was good to go, so he finally got to stay with his mommy and daddy where he belonged. :) I never understood before the love a parent has for his or her child, but oh my gosh, it is absolutely amazing, and totally unlike anything I've experienced in my life. Nothing can compare to how awesome it is. Nothing.
So on the flip side (and to make the subject less mushy because it's making me cry again, dangit), there is a HELL of a lot of pain too. I mean, seriously. It's freaking rough. And I had a C-section, not even a vaginal birth. I still have utmost respect and awe for vaginas that have birthed a baby. C-sections screw up your belly, make you swell up like a mofo, and holy crap, talk about being sore. I've never been this sore in my life. They give you pain meds, but they make me soooo sleepy. I've fallen asleep sitting straight up like sixteen times since I had Sam. So I take naps when I can, which isn't as often as you'd think. Although, now that we're home and aren't getting interrupted 87 times a day by nurses coming in and out of the room, I think my naps will increase. And you would think that because you had a C-section and not a vaginal birth, you wouldn't bleed, but that is not the case. It doesn't last very long though, so it's not too bad. Oh, and breastfeeding. Hurts. I sometimes think I'm attempting to feed a little vampire, because it sure feels like he's going for blood with a fang! But then I look down at his sweet little cheeks and nose and hair and I just smile and hold him close to me, thankful that he's here. So don't worry too much about the pain. You just do what you have to and deal with it, and I promise, every time you look at that little bundle of sweetness, it makes it all worth it.
Well, I'm falling asleep as I sit here, so I'm out. Time for another feeding anyway. :)
Sunday morning I woke up at 7:45 because my back was hurting and I could NOT for the life of me get comfortable. I figured I'd try to sit up on the couch and maybe sleep that way, but as soon as I got comfy there, I felt the strangest feeling. At first I thought the baby was kicking me really high up, but when I put my hand on my belly, the entire thing was rock hard. Everywhere. So I knew it was a contraction, but I'd had a Braxton Hicks the night before so I wasn't that worried about it. Well, throughout the day, I started feeling pain, pain, and more pain with the contractions, so I finally called the hospital. I told them I'd be there in an hour. I had laundry to finish first.
An hour later, off we went to the hospital. They checked me first and then monitored my contractions for two hours. According to them, during that time I went from a one to a four. That's some fast vaginal yawning there. So anyway, they admitted me to the hospital, a really nice (young, like, my-age-young) doctor, Dr. Fong, took care of me until 10:00 when he had to run to Baptist to assist in another delivery there. So all this time I'd been laying in bed, reveling in the meds from my epidural [just so you know, the epidurals hurt worse than anything in delivery. The effects are awesome and totally worth it, but holy crap, be prepared.], and having major conctractions. The doc came into my room before he left and told me that by that time I should've been "complete," meaning totally dilated, and I wasn't. He said if I wasn't complete by the time he got back we were just gonna do a C-section because this baby needed to come out. Which was fine with me, because at that time they thought he was gonna be an 8.5 lb baby, and I wasn't too keen on squeezing that through my lady tube. Plus, earlier, when they broke my water, they saw that the baby had pooped in the womb, and they knew he needed to come out asap.
Well, long story short, nothing had changed and they prepped me for a C-section and wheeled me back to the OR. (And if you think that getting a C-section means you won't have to deal with anything embarrassing, think again. They gave me some medicine that tasted like extreme Sweet Tarts so I wouldn't get sick to my stomach from all the medicine, and I barfed it all up. While I was laying down, so that it went all over my hair and left shoulder. And there was no way I could hop off that table and get cleaned up, so the nurse did the best she could. I was so doped up though I barely even cared. Plus it smelled good, like Sweet Tarts. :-D)
So they wheeled me back to the room, got me onto the operating table, put the curtain up, tested me to make sure I couldn't feel anything, let mom and Jesse into the room to sit by me, and started cutting away. Mom held my hand and prayed the whole time, and Jesse rubbed my face and talked sweet so I wouldn't be scared. I loved it. :) All I could feel the whole time was a bunch of tugging and pressure, and then I heard the doctor exclaim, "Oh my goodness, look at the hair on this little guy!" and then she said something about the cord being wrapped around his neck one time, another good reason we did the C-section, although we weren't aware of that specific situation at the time we made the decision. Not too long after that, they held up a purple little cone-headed, dark-haired baby for me to see, and I started crying immediately, and then laughed because his head was so cone shaped, and it was funny. Poor little guy. He'd been in my birth canal for so long trying to come out, but it just wasn't happening.
After that, Jesse brought him over to me all wrapped and bundled up, and I reached out and touched his sweet little face and then they whisked him away. I didn't get to see my baby again until the next morning, because he had to go into the Special Care Unit. He wasn't able to breathe very well on his own and had to be put on oxygen, and they had lots of poop to clean out of him, poor thing. I was so sad that I didn't get to see and hold him right away, but I understood why and I just wanted what was best for him.
The next morning at six thirty, I was sleeping away when the nurse came in and woke me up. She asked if she could wheel me to the nursery because Samuel was crying and they couldn't calm him down and told her to come get me because "he just needs his mama." I was like, "Heck yeah, take me down there!" She laughed and we headed that way. I had to close my eyes because the pain meds they had me on made me dizzy. So anyway, they wheeled me into the nursery and pulled my little boy out of a bed where he had oxygen in his nose and everything. He was crying and crying, but as soon as they put him in my arms, he quieted right up and turned his head to me and cuddled. My heart melted, absolutely melted, and tears just started streaming down my face. He was so precious, and finally I was getting to meet my boy face-to-face. I held him as long as they'd let me, crying the whole time. Then they let me breast feed him for the first time, skin-to-skin, which is an amazing thing, as you other mamas who've done it know. My nurse offered to get my cell phone for me so I could take a picture with him, and that's the picture my credit union peeps saw, from the very first time I got to meet my little man. Incidentally, I was still bare-breasted, so enjoy that picture, y'all. ;)
Later that morning, the doctor checked him over one last time and said he was good to go, so he finally got to stay with his mommy and daddy where he belonged. :) I never understood before the love a parent has for his or her child, but oh my gosh, it is absolutely amazing, and totally unlike anything I've experienced in my life. Nothing can compare to how awesome it is. Nothing.
So on the flip side (and to make the subject less mushy because it's making me cry again, dangit), there is a HELL of a lot of pain too. I mean, seriously. It's freaking rough. And I had a C-section, not even a vaginal birth. I still have utmost respect and awe for vaginas that have birthed a baby. C-sections screw up your belly, make you swell up like a mofo, and holy crap, talk about being sore. I've never been this sore in my life. They give you pain meds, but they make me soooo sleepy. I've fallen asleep sitting straight up like sixteen times since I had Sam. So I take naps when I can, which isn't as often as you'd think. Although, now that we're home and aren't getting interrupted 87 times a day by nurses coming in and out of the room, I think my naps will increase. And you would think that because you had a C-section and not a vaginal birth, you wouldn't bleed, but that is not the case. It doesn't last very long though, so it's not too bad. Oh, and breastfeeding. Hurts. I sometimes think I'm attempting to feed a little vampire, because it sure feels like he's going for blood with a fang! But then I look down at his sweet little cheeks and nose and hair and I just smile and hold him close to me, thankful that he's here. So don't worry too much about the pain. You just do what you have to and deal with it, and I promise, every time you look at that little bundle of sweetness, it makes it all worth it.
Well, I'm falling asleep as I sit here, so I'm out. Time for another feeding anyway. :)
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Crazy Preggo Dream
I was at Best Buy by myself (in the ghetto, apparently, judging by what happened next), and these two pole-thin thuggy younger guys with stringy greasy black hair followed me outside to the parking lot and murdered me. I was eight and half months pregnant. So somehow I saw all of the events that followed, the news stories, etc etc, and somehow I got the opportunity to go back in time and change the outcome, so that’s exactly what I did.
So I was at Best Buy again, and I avoided those two thuggy guys like the plague, and went up and talked to a guy who worked there and asked him a question about something. I have no idea what I was there trying to buy. Anyway, so it turns out, THIS guy and his other friend who worked there kidnapped me, shoved me in the trunk of their ghetto car, and took me to their house to murder me and cut my baby out of my tummy and murder it too. (Yeah, this was a very disturbing dream.) So anyway, when we got to the house, I caught a look one of them had on his face like he hated what they were about to do, so I looked at him all sad and pleading and begged him to please, please, PLEASE let me go pee. The meaner guy didn’t want to let me but the other guy convinced him to let me go, that he would guard the door. So I went in the bathroom, peed, called 911, and hiked up my dress (this was definitely a dream, because I NEVER wear dresses) to check the gun I had strapped to my leg to load it. (Yeah, I came prepared this time, just in case. You don’t go back in time after being murdered without learning a thing or two.) So I walked out of the bathroom holding the gun behind my back, moaning about my back hurting. The nicer guy was walking ahead of me and didn’t see it. When we got back to the living room, the other guy lunged at me with a knife, but I pulled the gun out and shot him in the chest before he could get to me. And then I looked at the other guy, who was scared shitless now, and looked back at the guy I just shot, who was still alive, and told him, “You don’t mess with a mama and her baby, mother f*cker.” (I know, CORNIEST LINE EVER, but seriously, this is how the dream went.) And then at this point I heard sirens approaching, and I was happy because I was pretty sure I hadn’t killed the guy (I wanted him to go to jail and get butt-raped and stuff), and I didn’t want to be forced to shoot the nicer one. So the police came in and got the bad guys, and then eventually I got to go home. At this point, I woke up and scooted right up next to Jesse and got all comfy, and then I had to go pee. Sigh. The joys of pregnancy.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Hay Bay-Bay
As you probably know from facebook, I am officially "in the family way," as my late great Grandma Thelma would say. We found out a little over a week ago, the day before we came home from D.C., so my sweet brother Matt and his (also sweet) girlfriend Erin were the first to know. :) It was very cool getting to share that experience with them.
I know it's early, and most people wait to announce it until they're three months along and know the sex of the baby, but holy cow. There was no way I could wait that long. I've wanted to be a mom for as long as I can remember, and no way was I waiting two more months to share the good news. Although I do have to admit one thing...it was a little weird posting that pic of Little Baby Bean With a Heartbeat for all the facebook world to see. I mean, because if you think about it, I'm showing everyone my inner lady parts, and it's a little strange to think about. Like I can see the following scenario happening now: I'll be walking down the street and see a facebook friend and smile and wave at them, all the while thinking to myself, "Huh. He/she's seen my uterus. I wonder if, compared to other uteruses, it's a good-lookin' one? Yeah, probably." And then I'll continue on down the street, just me and my hot uterus and Little Baby Bean With a Heartbeat, feeling awesome.
And being pregnant is gonna give me a whole slew of new gross things to blog about, so I'm pretty excited about that. Except I won't blog about all of them, because some things you just don't need to know. But if you're one of my close friends or family, let me just go ahead and apologize to you right now, because you're gonna get to know waaaay more gross details than you probably care to. :-D
One more thing: pregnancy hormones. So far, I've just cried a lot. I'm kinda hoping I turn into a bitchy monster though, because I think that'll be kinda funny. Not for Jesse, (or our close friends and family), but hey, at least it'll only last nine months, right? Or...seven and a half...because I haven't been any more bitchy than normal so far. And don't you dare argue otherwise. ;)
I know it's early, and most people wait to announce it until they're three months along and know the sex of the baby, but holy cow. There was no way I could wait that long. I've wanted to be a mom for as long as I can remember, and no way was I waiting two more months to share the good news. Although I do have to admit one thing...it was a little weird posting that pic of Little Baby Bean With a Heartbeat for all the facebook world to see. I mean, because if you think about it, I'm showing everyone my inner lady parts, and it's a little strange to think about. Like I can see the following scenario happening now: I'll be walking down the street and see a facebook friend and smile and wave at them, all the while thinking to myself, "Huh. He/she's seen my uterus. I wonder if, compared to other uteruses, it's a good-lookin' one? Yeah, probably." And then I'll continue on down the street, just me and my hot uterus and Little Baby Bean With a Heartbeat, feeling awesome.
And being pregnant is gonna give me a whole slew of new gross things to blog about, so I'm pretty excited about that. Except I won't blog about all of them, because some things you just don't need to know. But if you're one of my close friends or family, let me just go ahead and apologize to you right now, because you're gonna get to know waaaay more gross details than you probably care to. :-D
One more thing: pregnancy hormones. So far, I've just cried a lot. I'm kinda hoping I turn into a bitchy monster though, because I think that'll be kinda funny. Not for Jesse, (or our close friends and family), but hey, at least it'll only last nine months, right? Or...seven and a half...because I haven't been any more bitchy than normal so far. And don't you dare argue otherwise. ;)
Sunday, March 27, 2011
D.C. Trip
Jesse and I just got back from Washington D.C. We stayed with my brother and his girlfriend and got to see all kinds of awesome things; cool historical stuff even. The fact that we even made it to D.C. is kind of a miracle though, because...well...I forgot my driver's license. Yes, I AM dumb. But it runs in the family, so it's all good. :)
Here's what happened: Our flight left at 6 AM. Jesse is definitely not a morning person, so he was already a little grouchy. Plus, I had printed out our itinerary the day before and had put it in my purse so I wouldn't forget it, but somehow it jumped outta there and walked away, because I haven't seen it since. So Jesse was even more irritated from finding that out first thing in the morning. Bless his heart...I was trying to make up for it though, so since I had checked us in online the day before, I got our bags checked by the guy outside, who also printed our boarding passes and itinerary for us. We skipped all those losers in the big long line inside. Yay, one point for me. :)
So, we headed toward the security checkpoint, and on the way up to the TSA agent, I stopped dead in my tracks as my stomach plummeted to the ground. I realized that MY LICENSE WAS IN MY OTHER PURSE AT HOME. I threw my hands up to my face and just stared at Jesse in total, complete horror because holy hell, talk about him being PISSED. I just knew we'd have to cancel our trip, because surely there was no way they would let me through without a license. Tears started streaming down my face. This was a bad situation. Real bad. And it was all my fault. I felt horrible.
We continued up to the agent and explained the situation to her, and I swear, she was an angel. She was so sweet. She said, "Honey, don't cry. Everything's gonna be fine. We're gonna get you on that plane, don't you worry. Just look through your wallet and show me anything with your name on it." I fumbled through my wallet and found an old RSU student ID with my picture on it, and my Social Security card. "Perfect," she said. "You just go right on through here and stop that crying. Everything's just fine now." And she smiled at me, and another lady opened up the other security line and let us go through that one so we could get right on through. I freakin' love Oklahomans. :)
When we got to D.C. and told my brother and his girlfriend what had happened, they were completely shocked that we'd been allowed on the plane. Looking back on it, I'm still surprised about it myself, but sooo thankful that we made it and everything worked out. But since we weren't interested in staying in D.C. permanently, we had my dad overnight my ID to us so we could fly back home, because D.C. people are definitely not nice and understanding about things like that. They get pissed at you if you stand on the wrong side of the escalator, so trying to get on a plane without an ID? Nut uh. Wouldn't happen there. But daddy saved the day and we made it home without a problem.
Of course, how daddy saved the day is another story in and of itself. He and Mom were on their way to our house when they saw a big cloud of smoke. Dad thought it was by our house but they weren't entirely sure until they got closer to our addition. My cousin/neighbor called them asking them where we were, because there was a big fire right by our addition and they were getting stuff together just in case it was heading our way and wanted us to be able to do the same. But Dad could tell the fire wasn't heading in our direction, thank God, so they didn't call us until after the fact.
Anyway, in order to get my license, he had to break into my car and open the garage with the garage door opener. One of our neighbors saw him breaking into my car and came over to help him. Although when he found out it wasn't Dad's car he backed off real quick until Dad and my cousin explained the situation to him. He said he grew up "in the hood" in Detroit and could get 'em into that car real quick. I know, comforting, right? But anyway, I was thankful he helped Dad. Of course, getting into my car was only half the battle. Once he was over that hurdle, Dad had to break into our house because we had the door going from the house to the garage locked. But that was no problem for him. Good ol' fire-fightin', lock-pickin' skills. I'm just glad he didn't break down the door. :) Then of course, he had to find the license in my purse, which I later found out was no problem for him, since he just turned it over and dumped everything out. Good thing I didn't have my little vibrator in there, huh? ;)
So the moral of the story is this: if you're gonna fly, bring your ID, and always hide your sex toys.
The End.
Here's what happened: Our flight left at 6 AM. Jesse is definitely not a morning person, so he was already a little grouchy. Plus, I had printed out our itinerary the day before and had put it in my purse so I wouldn't forget it, but somehow it jumped outta there and walked away, because I haven't seen it since. So Jesse was even more irritated from finding that out first thing in the morning. Bless his heart...I was trying to make up for it though, so since I had checked us in online the day before, I got our bags checked by the guy outside, who also printed our boarding passes and itinerary for us. We skipped all those losers in the big long line inside. Yay, one point for me. :)
So, we headed toward the security checkpoint, and on the way up to the TSA agent, I stopped dead in my tracks as my stomach plummeted to the ground. I realized that MY LICENSE WAS IN MY OTHER PURSE AT HOME. I threw my hands up to my face and just stared at Jesse in total, complete horror because holy hell, talk about him being PISSED. I just knew we'd have to cancel our trip, because surely there was no way they would let me through without a license. Tears started streaming down my face. This was a bad situation. Real bad. And it was all my fault. I felt horrible.
We continued up to the agent and explained the situation to her, and I swear, she was an angel. She was so sweet. She said, "Honey, don't cry. Everything's gonna be fine. We're gonna get you on that plane, don't you worry. Just look through your wallet and show me anything with your name on it." I fumbled through my wallet and found an old RSU student ID with my picture on it, and my Social Security card. "Perfect," she said. "You just go right on through here and stop that crying. Everything's just fine now." And she smiled at me, and another lady opened up the other security line and let us go through that one so we could get right on through. I freakin' love Oklahomans. :)
When we got to D.C. and told my brother and his girlfriend what had happened, they were completely shocked that we'd been allowed on the plane. Looking back on it, I'm still surprised about it myself, but sooo thankful that we made it and everything worked out. But since we weren't interested in staying in D.C. permanently, we had my dad overnight my ID to us so we could fly back home, because D.C. people are definitely not nice and understanding about things like that. They get pissed at you if you stand on the wrong side of the escalator, so trying to get on a plane without an ID? Nut uh. Wouldn't happen there. But daddy saved the day and we made it home without a problem.
Of course, how daddy saved the day is another story in and of itself. He and Mom were on their way to our house when they saw a big cloud of smoke. Dad thought it was by our house but they weren't entirely sure until they got closer to our addition. My cousin/neighbor called them asking them where we were, because there was a big fire right by our addition and they were getting stuff together just in case it was heading our way and wanted us to be able to do the same. But Dad could tell the fire wasn't heading in our direction, thank God, so they didn't call us until after the fact.
Anyway, in order to get my license, he had to break into my car and open the garage with the garage door opener. One of our neighbors saw him breaking into my car and came over to help him. Although when he found out it wasn't Dad's car he backed off real quick until Dad and my cousin explained the situation to him. He said he grew up "in the hood" in Detroit and could get 'em into that car real quick. I know, comforting, right? But anyway, I was thankful he helped Dad. Of course, getting into my car was only half the battle. Once he was over that hurdle, Dad had to break into our house because we had the door going from the house to the garage locked. But that was no problem for him. Good ol' fire-fightin', lock-pickin' skills. I'm just glad he didn't break down the door. :) Then of course, he had to find the license in my purse, which I later found out was no problem for him, since he just turned it over and dumped everything out. Good thing I didn't have my little vibrator in there, huh? ;)
So the moral of the story is this: if you're gonna fly, bring your ID, and always hide your sex toys.
The End.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
WTF Pedi
Yesterday I got a pedicure for the first time in MONTHS, since probably October at least. My feet were so ghetto and trashy. It was disgusting. I was with my mom and cousin, or "The Sisterhood," as my dad calls us. We made our usual stop at Starbucks, and then because we were in a hurry, just went to the nail salon next door to Starbucks (the one off I-240 and Penn, in case you're interested in going to that particular salon after you read this).
We walked in and went through the whole "pick-your-color-then-have-a-seat" routine. The chairs in this particular salon are placed in a circle-type pattern in the middle of the room, under an island-y bungalow thing. So theme-y and precious. Anyway, I picked out a chair, sat down, and got comfy. I slid my feet into the nice warm water, sipped my Starbucks, leaned back, and closed my eyes, sighing contentedly. The lady who had filled my water had also turned on the massage feature of my chair. It felt awesome. There were even massager things in the bottom of the seat, massaging my legs. It was nice.
So anyway, after a minute of total relaxation, I was sitting there talking to mom (who was sitting in the chair next to me), and I was right smack-dab in the middle of telling her a story, when all of a sudden my eyes got extremely wide and I was like, "WHOA!" I had just felt a massager rod attempt to go straight up my asshole. I immediately started cracking up (no pun intended) while squirming awkwardly in my chair because I mean, who expects a massager chair to randomly molest them, you know? And it wasn't just pumping once and callin' it good. Oh, no. It was doing it over...and over...and over...and over...My mom was like, "What? What's wrong?" And I said, "Don't you feel that thing in your seat? It tries to go in your anus!" I must have said this louder than I thought, because at that point, the ladies sitting in the other chairs across the circle started laughing and nodding their heads. They'd all been molested by their chairs as well. It was like an instantaneous Circle of Trust or something. We all bonded. (And no, not to our chairs.) Except for mom. That particular feature on her chair never would come on. I tried, believe me. Her reaction would have been PRICELESS. My cousin's worked though :-D. She asked me what I was talking about and I said, "Oh, just wait. You'll know when you feel it." I sat there and watched her face, and suddenly her eyes widened and she was like "Ohmygosh!" and started laughing and squirming in her seat. We couldn't believe what we were feeling from these chairs! It was NOT relaxing at all, believe me.
Well, after the molesting massage chair had gotten its feel of my ass and had moved on to other parts of my body, I began intently studying the massage controller. I turned off the anal-entry feature (or, as it was labled on the controller, "Seat Bottom." Yeah, sounds all innocent, right? Uh huh). So anyway, when I turned the anal-entry feature off, I noticed something on the screen had disappeared. Curious, I turned it back on. On the outline of the man on the screen (that's a lot of prepositional phrases in a row right there, boy howdy) I noticed that under his ass there was a little circular shape that appeared on the screen, right between his butt cheeks. Yes, this anal-entry feature was actually intended. I couldn't believe it.
So, the moral of the story is this: In the future, my anus and I will only go to "trusted" nail salons where we know the most stimulating thing we'll experience will be the caffeine coursing through my body from the Starbucks I will undoubtedly be drinking.
We walked in and went through the whole "pick-your-color-then-have-a-seat" routine. The chairs in this particular salon are placed in a circle-type pattern in the middle of the room, under an island-y bungalow thing. So theme-y and precious. Anyway, I picked out a chair, sat down, and got comfy. I slid my feet into the nice warm water, sipped my Starbucks, leaned back, and closed my eyes, sighing contentedly. The lady who had filled my water had also turned on the massage feature of my chair. It felt awesome. There were even massager things in the bottom of the seat, massaging my legs. It was nice.
So anyway, after a minute of total relaxation, I was sitting there talking to mom (who was sitting in the chair next to me), and I was right smack-dab in the middle of telling her a story, when all of a sudden my eyes got extremely wide and I was like, "WHOA!" I had just felt a massager rod attempt to go straight up my asshole. I immediately started cracking up (no pun intended) while squirming awkwardly in my chair because I mean, who expects a massager chair to randomly molest them, you know? And it wasn't just pumping once and callin' it good. Oh, no. It was doing it over...and over...and over...and over...My mom was like, "What? What's wrong?" And I said, "Don't you feel that thing in your seat? It tries to go in your anus!" I must have said this louder than I thought, because at that point, the ladies sitting in the other chairs across the circle started laughing and nodding their heads. They'd all been molested by their chairs as well. It was like an instantaneous Circle of Trust or something. We all bonded. (And no, not to our chairs.) Except for mom. That particular feature on her chair never would come on. I tried, believe me. Her reaction would have been PRICELESS. My cousin's worked though :-D. She asked me what I was talking about and I said, "Oh, just wait. You'll know when you feel it." I sat there and watched her face, and suddenly her eyes widened and she was like "Ohmygosh!" and started laughing and squirming in her seat. We couldn't believe what we were feeling from these chairs! It was NOT relaxing at all, believe me.
Well, after the molesting massage chair had gotten its feel of my ass and had moved on to other parts of my body, I began intently studying the massage controller. I turned off the anal-entry feature (or, as it was labled on the controller, "Seat Bottom." Yeah, sounds all innocent, right? Uh huh). So anyway, when I turned the anal-entry feature off, I noticed something on the screen had disappeared. Curious, I turned it back on. On the outline of the man on the screen (that's a lot of prepositional phrases in a row right there, boy howdy) I noticed that under his ass there was a little circular shape that appeared on the screen, right between his butt cheeks. Yes, this anal-entry feature was actually intended. I couldn't believe it.
So, the moral of the story is this: In the future, my anus and I will only go to "trusted" nail salons where we know the most stimulating thing we'll experience will be the caffeine coursing through my body from the Starbucks I will undoubtedly be drinking.
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