How I Failed Childbirth Class

I like to pride myself in being a good student, but I failed childbirth class.

As many obstetricians do, my doctor recommended a childbirth class and I attended. We attended. It’s my understanding that during childbirth, the partner is supposed to be strong, supportive, and inspiring while the pregnant person performs a miracle. I’m like, really good at being strong, supportive, and inspiring, and would have preferred my husband perform the miracle.

I am a woman, no one cares what I want.

I expected to perform my miracle naturally. All the women in my family had natural childbirths, how hard could it be?
In retrospect, I can say women in my family have basically had natural childbirths because they have had very short labors and deliveries.
“Oh, you wanted an epidural? Sorry, too late. Can we offer you a shot of Demerol instead? Oops! Here comes the baby!”

My baby decided she liked sitting upright inside me.

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Like this, but with her foot by her ear. She’s an overachiever.

I suppose it could have been all my yoga that inspired her, but personally, I blame her sister for having been breech, which ultimately means my husband’s DNA is responsible.

So I crawled around on the floor, literally, on my hands and knees, for two weeks, because that’s what the Chinese do to make the baby turn, and they have the lowest rate of breech births. Incidentally, the crawling did help with the intense back labor pains, since I couldn’t take the drugs.
“I’m going to prescribe you a muscle relaxer for the day and a narcotic for the night.”
“I’m very sensitive to medication. I have other children. I’ll need to be awake and alert and capable of driving.”
“No worries. I’m prescribing low doses.”

>Flash to me, unconscious for 8 hours after 5ml of Flexril<
I never took the narcotic.

The crawling didn’t inspire my baby to move, so the doctor told me he’d turn the baby.

I know y’all think I’m a ridiculous person and you never believe anything I say, but if you take away only one thing from me, this is it:
DO NOT LET THEM TURN THE BABY. IF YOUR BABY IS BREECH, JUST GO AHEAD AND HAVE THE C-SECTION.

This is the kind of unsolicited advice I give to strangers.

It hurts. When the doctor says you may feel some discomfort, that means it will hurt. For about an hour, my doctor manipulated my baby manually, through my abdomen, while I writhed and groaned in agony discomfort. A stream of tears flowed from my eyeballs in a way I only otherwise experience during waxing.
They do not offer analgesics for this turning procedure, but had I known what it would be like, I might have tried that narcotic.
I left with bruises all over my middle, but the baby had been turned, and my back pain was gone.

For a few hours.

Until the baby turned back.

signs your child may be strong-willed may include…

OW.

Into the tub I went.
OW.
Oh dang. OW.

Per the instructions of my OB, I called the doctor on-call to tell her the baby moved back and that I was experiencing pain.
She told me to go to the hospital.
I didn’t want to go to the hospital.
She said it could be labor.
I said I had had this pain before. It’s not labor. Labor must surely hurt more than this.
To the hospital, she ordered.
Monitors and all that.
The nurses rolled their eyes at me, “It’s not labor.”

For three more weeks, I crawled around on my hands and knees to relieve the pressure on my back. Then I went to have my baby the new-fangled, unnatural way.
It was delightful.
I had my spinal block and lay on a table feeling that sorta feeling that you get when you’ve been in the bath long enough to prune and you’re relaxed and downright dozy. I couldn’t feel anything below my waist. Numb is so much better than pain.

So yeah, I failed childbirth class.

While I was recovering, I heard women in labor. It didn’t sound like an easy A.

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SoCS ‘class’ is brought to you by LindaGHill

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The Illustrated Joey

Moo has been crafting a delightful series of illustrations this week. She’s the creator of “The Adventures of Creepy Guy and Raccoon-Eyed Girl” which is loosely based on a true story.
I was honored to be drawn this morning.

 

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I don’t know if I play a prominent role in the story, but I’m delighted to have been depicted as a part giraffe.

Happy Friday Everyone!

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#ThursdayDoors — The Big Blue House

I’ve mentioned The Big Blue House a few times, because it’s a house associated with gobs of pleasant memories for me. Even more for The Mister and Drew, since before they lived there, their grandparents lived there.

Over the last decade, we’ve watched the steady decline of the exterior of The Big Blue House. Sadly, The Big Blue House had been lost to her owner and then neglected entirely. This is not, I repeat NOT how the house looked when my in-laws lived there. She used to be a stand-out gem.

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Fortunately, someone is fixing up The Big Blue House now.
Last month, she got all new windows. She used to have a big bay window and casement windows.
Last week, she got a new door.

 

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It’s a good door, hm? I like it.
Really, I like the idea that someone is putting some love into her again. I’m sure I will one day return to you with an after photo, but for now, I’m pleased there’s progress.

#ThursdayDoors is part of an inspired post series run by Norm Frampton. To view other interesting doors, click the link and see what others are posting today.

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One-Liner Wednesday — Movie Critic

“Technically, I don’t know what he’s watching, but it should be called The Longest it Took Anyone to Die, Ever.”

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One-Liner Wednesday is brought to you by LindaGHill

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She’ll Be Bastin Big Fat Turkey When She Comes

You’re probably reading this while my parents are here. I said they could come over at a reasonable hour, like 9am. I don’t think they classify 9am as morning, but I do. *yawns*

I’ve been clever, and prepared 98% of the food in advance. You are so proud of me.

I’ll make some scrambled eggs, ham, and toast around 11, which will be our lunch, and maybe they’ll eat too. You never can tell with these people. They’re too polite to tell you they’re hungry.
Telling them I cook every day, often twice a day, doesn’t convince them that I don’t mind cooking. I mastered cooking for six to eight a long time ago, and did it for so long, it took me almost a year to stop pulling too many plates out every night and even longer to stop buying two pounds of beef for chili. No matter how much your family loves chili, they will get sick of it. Eventually.

Anyway, after that I plan to starve my children until their daddy gets home for dinner. Then I’m going to fry up some green maters. But in the fridge, I have deli meats, cheeses, pickles, olives, Israeli salad, cottage cheese, grapes, cantaloupe, blueberries, and pineapple. I shall lay out a loaf of bread and a veritable smorgasbord of noms.

I even bought the paper plates my dad likes, because when he comes, he always gasps at the amount of dishes and asks why we don’t use paper plates, and I suppose I have given up explaining that it’s not fiscally or environmentally responsible to use so many paper plates. It just makes me sound like such a tree-hugging, bleeding heart liberal, doesn’t it?
We’re still going to use cloth napkins, though, and that’s that.

For dessert, there’s angel food cake, sugared strawberries, and vanilla ice cream. I even have a bit of whipping cream in there, but I don’t know that I should go to all the trouble to put the cream in the mixer and slide the lever.

I suppose I’m as predictable to them as they are to me…

So I thought maybe I’d have a little fun this year. A little fun with the predictability.

Virtually every time I post a food pic, my mother goes on about it. But then, when I get the woman on the phone and ask her what she’d like to eat while she’s with me, she says, “Somethin simple, please.”
*rolls eyes*
If you come to my house, be prepared to demand food, okay? Sitting around thinking about food to cook is a bee in my bonnet. My family endures the request for menu ideas weekly. Inevitably, it has long been like this:
The Mister: Food.
Bubba: Meatloaf! Ribs! Curry!
Sissy: Fried chicken.
Sassy: Spaghetti. Mmm, spaghetti.
Moo: Moo Stew! No, that stuff with the things and the corn, like potato soup? Oh, potato soup! Those things with the avocado and the green stuff. Not the cilantro, that other green stuff. I like those. And those wraps with the red things in the jar. Chickyaki! Curry! I’ll make naan! Challah! Challah French toast! How about Pancakes? Ooh, how about the quinoa chicken things with baby carrots? Do we have baby carrots? Are there any butter beans? Biscuits and gravy! We should have melon night like we have cheese night! BLTs! Israeli salad! Tortellini soup! Tuna pasta! Potato salad! Tacos! Peanut butter pie!

Seriously.
Have something in mind. Be more Moo and less The Mister, k?

So…some fun…

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My friend Shay said yes, do this, and screenshot the results.

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My mother, she is so gracious, non?
The Southern is strong in her. Willing to cook all day on her vacation. Bless her heart.

I almost feel badly about sharing this naughtiness with you. I may actually leave the coasters out instead of watching them panic over where to set their drinks.

What quirky unspoken family traditions do you have?

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Share Your World #24

What is the most fun thing you did in school?
Heh. Well let’s stick to elementary school, keep it rated G, hm? I loved playing Four Square at recess. Like, I lived for it.

What is your favorite type of dog?  (can be anything from a specific breed, a stuffed animal or character in a movie)
I love my dog. I have loved and still do love many dogs. I’m partial to fluffy dogs with floppy ears…but…Kipper. Kipper the dog. The dog with a slipper…
Most precious children’s programming ever.


 

You are invited to a party that will be attended by many fascinating people you never met.  Would you attend this party if you were to go by yourself?
Probably not. Maybe if my hair looks good and there’s an open bar.

 

Complete this sentence:  Never In My Life Have I… gotten a tattoo. 

 

Bonus question:  What are you grateful for from last week, and what are you looking forward to in the week coming up?
I’m grateful for my health this week, and for mojitos, and for air-conditioning. My husband is a swell guy and he took me back to the Turkish place, so I’m grateful for him and for dolmades — Yes Again! Also, this time, we took three of our kids. We had the best time. Plus, we had tiramisu and Turkish coffee. This was not some individual-fancy-pants tiramisu with pretty structure and no oomph, either — This was someone-made-it-right-in-a-big-ol-pan tiramisu!

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This week my parents are coming!!!

Cee’s Share Your World is a weekly feature and all are welcome to play along.

What’s going on in your world?

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SoCS — Embodiment

The Circle City Pride Parade was this morning. It was a bright, hot morning — 91F/33C with 44% humidity and fortunately, a nice breeze now and again. I wore my staple fear-of-summer uniform — long-sleeve white gauzy shirt, lightweight jeans, big straw hat.
When you’re so white you have to dress like a missionary at the Pride Parade…

Seven of us in a little crowd and who do the evangelists bring a pamphlet to? Me.
No thank you, my mother-in-law has given me enough Jesus, I’m full, thanks…

I know most people think Indiana is corn and racin and basketball, and we are. But that’s a narrow view of a thriving metropolis.

We are a primarily blue city, surrounded primarily by red rural areas. Our governor is so bass-ackward he gets booed at while throwing the first pitch at Victory Field, signs reading PENCE MUST GO dot the neighborhoods, and there’s even a Facebook Page called Periods for Pence, because he hasn’t got a basic understanding of women’s biology — and between you and me, I strongly suspect he thinks being transgender means that Ken is wearing Barbie’s clothes.

Events like Pride are essential. They serve as a reminder that not all Hoosiers are bigots. Plenty of Hoosiers understand that Hoosier Hospitality extends to all people.

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Pride is the embodiment of love. Love for everyone. Love for the people who make up the businesses and churches and groups that not only support equality and diversity of our community, but truly embrace it. Love for all the people who support one another and the evolution of human rights. Maybe most importantly it celebrates love for all the people who’ve lived too long without love, without acceptance.

When the people waved, they waved with love, so I waved back with a pile of my own.

I love you Glitter Girl, Leather Man, Pantless Chaps Dude, Drag Queen, POW, Unicorn, Pegasus, Guy whose tee shirt suggests we all try the sausages, Grandpa Biker with a confetti shooter, Men in cock socks and cowboy hats — I love you all unabashedly. Thank you for sharing yourselves with LOVE & PRIDE. Y’all make me proud to be a Hoosier today.

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SoCS ‘mb’ is brought to you by LindaGHill

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Join Us for Shushis

I’ve encapsulated our linner chat for you.
sushi

 

“My bowl is special.”
“I see that. Your bowl is orange just for you. My bowl is blue and white for me.”
“Their bowls are blue too.”
“Mine is prettier.”

 

“Moo, you are way ahead of us.”
“Right? Haven’t even ordered drinks and she’s got the sticks out!”
“When the food arrives Moo will be pluckin it up with sticks and tossin it all in.”

 

“Take a photo of your happy wife about to eat sushi.”
“Gah! Do you even look at your subject when you take pictures?”
“I was trying to get the food.”
“Yeah, so pretty.”
*contorts lips to mock photo*

 

“Do you want to share gyoza?”
“Yes, but I want soup.”
“Oh.”
“I’m not sayin I won’t eat some gyoza, but I want soup. Get the gyoza.”

 

“Ooh, this soup good. Moo, your soup so good?”
“Moo can’t talk right now, she’s sucking her soup down.”
“Can’t even see Moo. Soup cup all up on her face.”
“It’s very good. The good chef is here today.”
“But our favorite waiter isn’t here.”
“No he’s not.”
“I like him.”
“Me too.”
“He’s better than those young girls.”
“He’s professional.”
“Some of those things they wear. I guess I can see how it works with certain groups of men.”
“Huh?”
“The clingy clothes, the low-cut tops.”
“Oh that’s part of the job, Dude. Tips. If him wearin that stuff got him bigger tips, you bet he would.”
“But he doesn’t have to, cause he’s a man.”
“Right.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Nope.”

 

“Coke.”
“Coke.”
“Coke.”
“Coke.”

 

“What’s gyoza?”
“Dumplings.”
“What’s in them?”
“Meat.”
“Mmm, kinda meat?”
“Pork.”
“I like pork.”
*cuts gyoza in half*
“Spicy sauce good.”
“These are so much better than Sushi House.”
“They’re put together better, for one.”

 

“I still miss shrimp sauce.”
“Oh my God! Shrimp sauce! I miss shrimp sauce!”

 

“I want chicken fried rice. I know it’s a five-dollar bowl of rice, but I want it. If you want I’ll eat the three-dollar bowl of regular fried rice, but I promise to eat it this time.”
“You know that like, a ten-pound bag of rice is only about twelve dollars, right?”
“Yes, but I love fried rice!”
“Yet you don’t eat fried rice at Chinois. Hmm. Racist much?”
“No.”
“Order the chicken fried rice. Live your dreams.”

 

“So we want mistake rolls, yeah?”
[Whole table clamors.]
“And volcano rolls?”
“And spicy tuna? I like spicy tuna. Moo likes spicy tuna.”
“I want California rolls!”
“Okay.”

 

“You forgot to order her rice. I’ll do it.”

 

“This is a band called the Police. You may know the front man.”
“If a bee is mad at you…”
“I know Sting.”
“You know of Sting from Friends. Do you actually know Sting?”
“We don’t know him personally, no.”
“They know some of the music, they just don’t know it’s him.”
“What do you know of Sting?”
Fields of Gold and None of Us are Free.”
“They surely know Roxanne. That gets played a lot.”
“It’s no use, she sees him…”
“Everybody now!”
[The old people rock out a bit.]
“That book by Nabokov…”
“The Police.”
“Uh, okay.”

 

“I like the regular red soy sauce. God only knows what they put in or take out to reduce the sodium in the other.”
“Like the milk fat.”
“Yes, just like the milk fat. Let’s take out the good-for-you fats and give you extra sugar! Then we’ll tell you whole milk causes obesity!”
“And make you drink white water.”
“I can’t even.”

 

“Why is there always ginger?!? Who eats this shit?”
“I guess some people like ginger.”
“Ginger ale.”
“I like ginger ale.”

 

“It’s not as sticky as it should be.”
“Haha.”
“Dirty.”
“Shame-shame. Sassy likes it when we talk about the shame-shame.”

 

“You all hold your chopsticks differently.”
“Just do what feels natural.”
“I’m not good at it.”
“I’ve been using them since I was ten. You’ll get good at it.”
“It took Daddy a long time too.”
“I…I cannot.”
“Use your fork.”
“But then I look like a dork. Remember when they gave us the kind that were tied together?”
“Yes, but you were little then. Now you’re big.”
*chopstick calamity*
“Use your fork. When the choice is make a big mess or use a fork, go with the fork.”
“Leave the gun. Take the cannoli.”

 

“Nope, I do not like that.”
“Don’t eat it.”
“No one’s forcing you to eat it.”

 

“Don’t count. Eat.”

 

“What’s in the volcano roll?”
“I dunno. Stuff.”
“Yeah, like what?”
“I dunno. Good stuff.”
“Is it like spicy tuna?”
“I. don’t. know.”
“Well you always know stuff.”

 

“Stop it! That one is little! That one is mine!”

 

“I have a drinking problem. You can bring me two more, and I will drink them. You don’t have to keep coming back. I will always be out of drink.”

 

“Do you want that last one?”
“Go ahead Moo.”
“Okay, cause I don’t like that other one. These are cooling. Are they cooling, Mama?”
“Yes.”
“I told you they’re cooling.”

 

“Be careful with that, you have to put the whole thing in all at once or it will fall apart. It’s held together with magic and seaweed.”

 

“I want this one, but it’s too big.”
“Is it? Is it too big?”
“Haha.”
“I have faith in you Baby, you can fit it in. I’ve seen you take in bigger.”
“Haha.”
“Go on Baby, I’m watchin. Yeah, Baby.”
“Now you just hafta swallow!”
“Haha!”
“Oh my God, no, my virgin ears!”
“Shh, you guys, Moo’s gonna choke.”
“Moo is choking on laughter and her teeth are orange!”
“Those you spicy orange teeth? That you favorite color?”
“Shh, no really, we need to let her chew.”
“I looked up and Moo’s teeth were all orange and gross!”
“Orange you happy your teeth are orange?”
“Her mouth is small. The sushi is big. The struggle is real!”
“Quick! Eat all the sushi while she’s laughing!”

 

“Remember that other sushi place? Bubba was with us.”
“That was here. In another room.”
“Oh.”

 

“I hate when I gag on the sushi.”
“We all do.”
“But it’s so good.”
“Mhm.”
“I don’t know why it has to be so big.”

 

“What’re those lil round things we used to eat at Sushi House?”
“Dumplings. I don’t remember what they’re called. Lemme think.”

 

“More ginger?!? Really?!?”
“Tell us how you really feel about the ginger.”
*hisses*
“Oh look! More wasabi!”

 

“Did you forget your sushi is in there? Is it swimmin?”
“Yes. I like to let it soak.”

 

“Shumai. They’re called shumai. S-H-U-M-A-I.”
“See? You always know stuffs and fings.”

 

“Never was a cloudy day…”
“Septembah!”
[Three people dance in their seats.]
“Who’s this?”
“Earth Wind and Fire.”
“Elements. Heh.”

 

“Would you care for dessert?”
“Oh Lord no.”

Happy Friday Everyone!

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#ThursdayDoors — Union Station

You know, there are a lot of things I take for granted here in the city. Kinda sad, huh? Like I am all about how we have the world’s largest children’s museum, and I’m always pointing out to people that the LOVE sculpture is made by Robert Indiana who is from guess where?

 

But until Dan posted his own Union Station post, I hadn’t thought about our Indianapolis Union Station in … uh, well, I don’t recall.
Regardless, I found myself telling Dan how the Indianapolis Union Station was the first in the world. Crossroads of America and all that.
Then I realized, hey, it’s still there, I should go see it. Dan said he hoped that it wasn’t in an area where The Mister wouldn’t want me going alone. I said I’d take the dog. Well, I didn’t take the dog. We had dinner on East Street, and there was Union Station, so The Mister dropped me off. (Then he parked, and called to tell me where he parked, within viewing distance, because he’s just so damn thoughtful and protective. Isn’t he ever so dreamy?)

*stares off into space*

Achem.

Anyway, here it is, the first Union Station in the world.

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It opened in 1853.

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I have to tell you, while I stood there taking the photo, I realized the entire foundation, including the walkway, is granite.

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Whoa.

Also, check out the so deco lighting, obviously added later.

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You can see the progression of dusk in my photos.

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Sometime, I’ll go inside. I remember tiled walls.

#ThursdayDoors is part of an inspired post series run by Norm Frampton. To view other interesting doors, click the link and see what others are posting today.

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One-Liner Wednesday — 8 Lines

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Sassy looks sweet, don’t she?
When The Mister was deployed, when she was 7.

 

Sassy: How did you hear me all the way down here?

Me: I’ve got eyes in the back of my head and the hearing of a bat. Also, I’m your mother, which means I know what you think before it even comes outta your mouth.

Sassy: That’s kinda creepy. Can Daddy do that, too?

Me: No, he can’t.

Sassy: I miss Daddy.

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One-Liner Wednesdays are brought to you by LindaGHill

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