Skip to main content

I took a test for my teaching license in Denver yesterday and went to a bridal shower and then fell asleep after putting Magnus to bed at 8. Which means I woke up at four. Sleep is stupid. There's never enough of it and I always screw it up.

I miss crapping by myself.  Now there's this toddler who wants to come sit in the room with his snacks which is just gross.  And since he's allowed in the room, the dog and the cat have to come see if the rules have changed for them.  They haven't.  Or shit, I don't care, whatever.  I just miss not subconsciously echoing Magnus "poop!"  "Yes, mommy's pooping."  "Pee, pee."  "Yes, you go pee pee in the potty."  And on. 

I got to use a babysitter to go to the OB the other day though.  That's totally what I want to do with my kid-free time.  Here's what I think is weird about the twat doctor trip: when they walk out of the room for you to take off the bottom part of your outfit.  Then you sit for an indeterminate amount of time with a paper blanket on your bottom half but looking all normal and reading a book on the top half.  Makes me feel like one of those children's books with animal parts.  You know, where you turn the page and get an ostrich's feet and a giraffe head?  I feel like that. 

A lot of my identity feels split like that.  Formal on top, silly bottom.  My favorite tease-Rob tactic lately is a dramatic bottom shaking.  It's a stylish dance I'm perfecting over time.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Home birth- The real fuckin deal

So the end of pregnancy is for the fuckin birds. I'm sure plenty of you out there know this. There's nothing to say but that you're sick of being pregnant. You're a little sick of the sweet smiles and knowing looks from strangers. You're just all over sick of it. You're spectacularly sick of the: when's your due date how far are you are you having a boy or a girl I bet you're sick of this what hospital are you going to, conversations. You miss when people used to ask about the soccer game you played or the book you're reading. You're sick of swollen handsfeetfaceneckanklesEVERYTHING. Oh and from the beginning of pregnancy until FRIDAY, I had NO stretch marks. Friday my entire lower abdomen erupted into one. giant. stretch mark. So all weekend, I thought, please let this be over soon. Every cramp I felt I welcomed and thought, "whatever work my body does now, it doesn't have to do during labor." Little did I know how much
12 comments
Read more

Having Babies at Home

My whole life, I've heard the story of my cousin Anna's birth. And her sister's too. But I hear more about Anna's. My aunt didn't exactly have a lot of love for the medical profession. And her first baby had been a horrible experience. She'd had him wrenched from her at least as much as she "gave him up" for adoption by nursing staff who leered at her and called her unpleasant names. And she loved him when he was born. And she found him when he turned 18 and loved him till the day she died. When she had kids for keeps, she did it differently. She read books and assigned duties and had them at home. She was brave and surely faced many people who disagreed with her decision. But she stuck by her convictions and her desire for a natural birth and won 2 beautiful girls. My mom was there when Anna was born. So was her sister, Kristina. They both still get this sparkle in their eyes whenever they talk about it. My mom says it was one of the most
9 comments
Read more

Dear Book Pimp

So I wrote this book and I think it's pretty decent. That's the feedback I'm getting anyway, which is bitchin' really since I have a degree in Education, NOT writing. Plus, this is my first try, so really I should be happy, right? But, turns out writing the book is maybe the easy part. The publishing is another story. You have to find a Literary Agent. To do this, you have to write a 1-3 page letter to many literary agents to convince them to read a sample chapter. Send it with a Self addressed stamped envelope (SASE) and wait. there's more but I'm already experiencing a high level anxiety just writing about this part. In my letter, I'm supposed to explain who I am, what my book's about, why I'm qualified to write it, why its sicky illy good, who'll read it, and on and on. AHHHHHhhhhh! This shit scares me. Also, I'm supposed to be witty, clever, literary, and junk. Oh and explain a 300 page book in a sales pitch. I'm not a frea
10 comments
Read more