You know you love them. Complete strangers who seem to know more about rearing your children than you do, and take it upon themselves to SHARE THEIR EXCELLENT PARENTING ADVICE WITH YOU IN PUBLIC.
Take yesterday. I was in the checkout line at Vons, and got this little nugget of wisdom from the Vons checker lady.
Date: July 26, 2011
Time: 10:20am
Location: Vons supermarket in Coronado
Nugget of Wisdom: My Baby is Cold
I am in the checkout line. I have managed to gather my groceries without my baby waking up. Great success!
Vons checker lady eyes my baby who is snug in her carrier inside the shopping cart, sleeping peacefully. I think she is staring at my baby because Holland is so cute. I WAS MISTAKEN.
"You should cover up your baby, it is very cold in here," she says.
I look down at Holland, who is blissfully content, covered in pajamas with feet, and a onesie underneath. She is practically RADIATING heat she is so warm in there. I am IMMEDIATELY ANNOYED.
"Oh, she's fine," I said, smiling and looking the checker straight in the eyes, daring her to challenge me.
Which she did.
"No, it's REALLY cold in here," she said to me, as if I wasn't standing in the very same store with her, less than 2 feet away.
"She's warm," I said. "Really, she is."
"But it's SO COLD in here," insisted Vons Checker Lady.
She then proceeded to REACH OVER THE CHECKOUT STAND and reach into my baby's carrier and PULL DOWN THE COVER on top of the carrier. Which then woke up my happily sleeping baby. "Waaaaaa!" cried Holland.
"There, that's much better," the checker said. "Your baby says, 'keep me warmer mommy, otherwise I will get sick!'"
Um....yeah. What the f--k? Did she really just talk to me in a baby voice, impersonating my child? I want to dump out my groceries and suffocate her in the Vons bag.
"Have a great day Mrs. Van Tuyl," said Vons Checker Lady cheerily, sliding over my receipt. She is jubulient that she has acheived her goal...saving my baby from certain illness, possibly death. "You saved $8.43 today!"
I looked at her nametag. Vons Checker Lady was actually the SUPERVISOR. Geez. Go supervise yourself straight to the hardware store down the street...because you are a TOOL!
Anyone else getting unsolicited parenting advice lately?
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Questionable Parenting Hits Facebook Milestone!
Wow! Can it be true? Questionable Parenting has hit a milestone this week and surpassed 100 Facebook friends! Hip hip hooray! And the best part? Of the last 50 or so followers my little blog has gotten, I hardly know ANY of them! Weeee!
I know, I know. In the grand scheme of things, 100 Facebook friends is hardly something to be proud of. Other mommy bloggers have HUNDREDS of thousands of followers. Whatev.
I just can't help myself. People are actually finding my blog and actually LIKING it! I feel so cool!
You like me, you really like me!
I know, I know. In the grand scheme of things, 100 Facebook friends is hardly something to be proud of. Other mommy bloggers have HUNDREDS of thousands of followers. Whatev.
I just can't help myself. People are actually finding my blog and actually LIKING it! I feel so cool!
You like me, you really like me!
Friday, July 22, 2011
Top 6 Lessons My Daughter has Learned from Yo Gabba Gabba
The first time I watched Yo Gabba Gabba with Marley, we both stared at the television in disbelief. Marley, because she was stunned with its awesomeness. Me, because what the hell was going on here?
What kind of show was this? Little shrunken figures getting spirited out of a boombox, frolicking around and singing in their weird little shadow-box worlds? Including a one-eyed cyclops and a funky cat-dragon? Complete with retro touches and computer noises? Clearly, whoever thought up this show was on some serious drugs. Most likely hallucinogens, mixed with some kind of upper. Should I even LET my kids watch this?
Well. Turns out that I was too quick to judge. Although quite strange, Yo Gabba Gabba proved to be a stroke of sheer genius. Yo Gabba Gabba is actually chalk-full of helpful life lessons...it's like the "ABC After School Special" for toddlers. But instead of bulimia, drinking and teenage pregnancy, DJ Lance Rock and his clan tackle issues for the toddler sect, such as cutting in line, refusing to eat your vegetables and the importance of naptime.
Marley has taken many of the lessons from Yo Gabba Gabba to heart...so much so, I now rely on it to do much of my parenting for me. Why have a heart-to-heart with a two-year-old on the importance of sharing when Plex and Toodee can do it for me?
And so, without further ado, here are the Top 6 Life Lessons My Daughter Has Learned from Yo Gabba Gabba.
1. Don't Bite Your Friends. In this episode, Muno, the red-orange cyclops (who I think looks extremely phallic, hello?) gets a little too excited and bites Foofa, the "pink and happy" flower bubble character who dwells in the summer meadow. Yikes! But Plex, the magic robot, is quick to inform Muno that biting your friends is BAD.
2. Eat your vegetables...because they want to go to the party in your tummy! It's lunchtime in Gabba Land! In this episode, Brobee, the forest-dwelling green creature, eats his chicken, cheese and juice, but not the carrots and beans. The carrots and beans are upset and start to cry....boo-hoo! Brobee learns that the carrots and beans want to go to the party in his tummy too! Hooray, all the food gets to party together now!
3. Its fun to brush your teeth! Plex the Robot walks kids through the fun and exciting process of brushing your teeth. Sweeeet!
4. Try it...you'll like it! Along the same vein as "Party in My Tummy," this segment teaches kids that even if you think you WON'T like a particular food, if you try it...you just might like it!
5. Don't eat food you drop on the floor! Brobee drops some food on the ground, and ALMOST eats it. Thank goodness Plex the Magic Robot stops him just in time--and tells Brobee about the tiny, ugly germs that can make him SICK!
6. Please, and Thank You! In this episode, the Gabba Gang breaks out in a catchy song to praise the virtue of good manners, like saying "Please" and "Thank you!" Sadly, no YouTube clip exists for this song, but you get the idea!
Now if they could create a Yo Gabba Gabba for teenagers, then we'd really be in business! Screw the after school special. I've already devised some storylines. Plex the Magic Robot could get all wasted and roll around and smash into something. Toodee could binge and purge. Foofee could get knocked up, and Brobee could enter an abusive relationship. Maybe Muno would have to come out of the closet and tell his parents he's gay.
You get the idea. But seriously, Yo Gabba Gabba has done an amazing job of taking some common--yet pretty challenging topics--and keeping them simple. After all, as adults, we DO have a tendency to over complicate some of the most basic life principles.
Now, instead of teaching my kids about life (BORING!) I can dedicate my free time to shopping online, drinking wine, and making bread in my breadmaker machine. Sweeeet!
Do you watch Yo Gabba Gabba with your kids? Do you think it teaches valuable life lessons, or am I smoking crack? What is your favorite episode?
What kind of show was this? Little shrunken figures getting spirited out of a boombox, frolicking around and singing in their weird little shadow-box worlds? Including a one-eyed cyclops and a funky cat-dragon? Complete with retro touches and computer noises? Clearly, whoever thought up this show was on some serious drugs. Most likely hallucinogens, mixed with some kind of upper. Should I even LET my kids watch this?
Well. Turns out that I was too quick to judge. Although quite strange, Yo Gabba Gabba proved to be a stroke of sheer genius. Yo Gabba Gabba is actually chalk-full of helpful life lessons...it's like the "ABC After School Special" for toddlers. But instead of bulimia, drinking and teenage pregnancy, DJ Lance Rock and his clan tackle issues for the toddler sect, such as cutting in line, refusing to eat your vegetables and the importance of naptime.
Marley has taken many of the lessons from Yo Gabba Gabba to heart...so much so, I now rely on it to do much of my parenting for me. Why have a heart-to-heart with a two-year-old on the importance of sharing when Plex and Toodee can do it for me?
And so, without further ado, here are the Top 6 Life Lessons My Daughter Has Learned from Yo Gabba Gabba.
1. Don't Bite Your Friends. In this episode, Muno, the red-orange cyclops (who I think looks extremely phallic, hello?) gets a little too excited and bites Foofa, the "pink and happy" flower bubble character who dwells in the summer meadow. Yikes! But Plex, the magic robot, is quick to inform Muno that biting your friends is BAD.
2. Eat your vegetables...because they want to go to the party in your tummy! It's lunchtime in Gabba Land! In this episode, Brobee, the forest-dwelling green creature, eats his chicken, cheese and juice, but not the carrots and beans. The carrots and beans are upset and start to cry....boo-hoo! Brobee learns that the carrots and beans want to go to the party in his tummy too! Hooray, all the food gets to party together now!
3. Its fun to brush your teeth! Plex the Robot walks kids through the fun and exciting process of brushing your teeth. Sweeeet!
4. Try it...you'll like it! Along the same vein as "Party in My Tummy," this segment teaches kids that even if you think you WON'T like a particular food, if you try it...you just might like it!
5. Don't eat food you drop on the floor! Brobee drops some food on the ground, and ALMOST eats it. Thank goodness Plex the Magic Robot stops him just in time--and tells Brobee about the tiny, ugly germs that can make him SICK!
6. Please, and Thank You! In this episode, the Gabba Gang breaks out in a catchy song to praise the virtue of good manners, like saying "Please" and "Thank you!" Sadly, no YouTube clip exists for this song, but you get the idea!
Now if they could create a Yo Gabba Gabba for teenagers, then we'd really be in business! Screw the after school special. I've already devised some storylines. Plex the Magic Robot could get all wasted and roll around and smash into something. Toodee could binge and purge. Foofee could get knocked up, and Brobee could enter an abusive relationship. Maybe Muno would have to come out of the closet and tell his parents he's gay.
You get the idea. But seriously, Yo Gabba Gabba has done an amazing job of taking some common--yet pretty challenging topics--and keeping them simple. After all, as adults, we DO have a tendency to over complicate some of the most basic life principles.
Now, instead of teaching my kids about life (BORING!) I can dedicate my free time to shopping online, drinking wine, and making bread in my breadmaker machine. Sweeeet!
Do you watch Yo Gabba Gabba with your kids? Do you think it teaches valuable life lessons, or am I smoking crack? What is your favorite episode?
Saturday, July 9, 2011
Buying My First One-Piece Bathing Suit, and Other Scary Adventures
I knew this day would come, but I didn't think it would happen until well into my 40s. Like a chin-length bob and mom-jeans, I always felt that one-piece swimsuits were for a slightly older fatter uglier different crowd.
And why SHOULD I wear a one-piece? I have more bikinis that you can shake a stick at. And provided that I didn't eat a giant burrito or down three beers before suiting up (both plausible circumstances, I might add) I'm pretty comfortable in them.
But let's face it. I just had my baby 1 month ago, and I am sick of refusing to go in our condo complex's hot tub or pool because I look like crap in my bikinis. My legs look OK, my boobs look great (hello, milk!) but my butt looks dumpy and my stomach...well...let's not go there. Let's just say I will not be "bikini ready" for at least another few months.
Enter, the one-piece. Clearly the only thing that can mask my mushy stomach is a one-piece swimsuit. I can either endure the entire summer in shorts and tank tops, or I can pony-up and buy a friggen one-piece bathing suit.
I've shared this shopping adventure with a few of my friends, and they all say the same thing. "That's cool! There are some really cute and sexy one-pieces now." Then I say, "Yeah? Do you have one?" The answer is always, "Well, no, but..."
Exactly. The world of one-piece bathing suits is not for the faint of heart. Never mind that I could never possibly find a suit that could accommodate both my milk-engorged boobs and my non-existent butt (without making it look dumpy), most one-pieces seem to make me look fatter rather than flatter.
And then there are those pesky "monokinis." What the heck IS a monokini, anyway? Just a sexy version of a one-piece? Part of me wants to go crazy and get something like this, but then, what's the point? That will hardly hide my fat stomach or support my crazy boobs.
![]()
The Elusive Monokini
Then I really like this blue one by Vix, but it is like $138. I think it will look great in the front, but it is questionable in the back...
![]()
Super cute
![]()
Questionable .
The tankini is completely out--that will only make me look fatter. Then I feel kinda lame investing in the "miracle suit." But maybe a miracle is just what I need!
This one is cute and cheap, from Target.
![]()
Cute from the front.
But then hello, check out the back! Dumpy Butt.
![]()
Dumpy Butt
Enter the skirted tank suit. I found one at Target.com for only $18! A little cheesy, and certainly my husband will hate it, but maybe this will enhance my boobs and hide my butt.
![]()
Then, I read the online reviews of this suit. Almost all of the reviews were from moms over 35 who wanted to hide their "imperfections." They all gave it rave reviews! One even called it "fun and flirty." Another said it "covered up lots of bulges."
BINGO!!! We have a winner.
And so, I ordered this suit online. Fingers crossed I feel as fun and flirty and bulge-free as the reviewers did!
Anyone else wearing a one-piece these days? Any advice?
And why SHOULD I wear a one-piece? I have more bikinis that you can shake a stick at. And provided that I didn't eat a giant burrito or down three beers before suiting up (both plausible circumstances, I might add) I'm pretty comfortable in them.
But let's face it. I just had my baby 1 month ago, and I am sick of refusing to go in our condo complex's hot tub or pool because I look like crap in my bikinis. My legs look OK, my boobs look great (hello, milk!) but my butt looks dumpy and my stomach...well...let's not go there. Let's just say I will not be "bikini ready" for at least another few months.
Enter, the one-piece. Clearly the only thing that can mask my mushy stomach is a one-piece swimsuit. I can either endure the entire summer in shorts and tank tops, or I can pony-up and buy a friggen one-piece bathing suit.
I've shared this shopping adventure with a few of my friends, and they all say the same thing. "That's cool! There are some really cute and sexy one-pieces now." Then I say, "Yeah? Do you have one?" The answer is always, "Well, no, but..."
Exactly. The world of one-piece bathing suits is not for the faint of heart. Never mind that I could never possibly find a suit that could accommodate both my milk-engorged boobs and my non-existent butt (without making it look dumpy), most one-pieces seem to make me look fatter rather than flatter.
And then there are those pesky "monokinis." What the heck IS a monokini, anyway? Just a sexy version of a one-piece? Part of me wants to go crazy and get something like this, but then, what's the point? That will hardly hide my fat stomach or support my crazy boobs.
Then I really like this blue one by Vix, but it is like $138. I think it will look great in the front, but it is questionable in the back...
The tankini is completely out--that will only make me look fatter. Then I feel kinda lame investing in the "miracle suit." But maybe a miracle is just what I need!
This one is cute and cheap, from Target.
But then hello, check out the back! Dumpy Butt.
Dumpy Butt
Enter the skirted tank suit. I found one at Target.com for only $18! A little cheesy, and certainly my husband will hate it, but maybe this will enhance my boobs and hide my butt.
Then, I read the online reviews of this suit. Almost all of the reviews were from moms over 35 who wanted to hide their "imperfections." They all gave it rave reviews! One even called it "fun and flirty." Another said it "covered up lots of bulges."
BINGO!!! We have a winner.
And so, I ordered this suit online. Fingers crossed I feel as fun and flirty and bulge-free as the reviewers did!
Anyone else wearing a one-piece these days? Any advice?
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Top Six Things That Happen When My Husband Leaves Town
Ian had to go to France for a week. That's right...THIS week, over the Fourth of July. See, Ian is a yacht salesman, and one of the sailboat lines he sells--Jeanneau--is French-made. They had their annual dealer meeting in Nantes, France, and someone over yonder had the uncanny inclination to schedule it OVER THE FOURTH OF JULY. Really. I love the French and all (after all I AM part French,) but nothing says "Fuck you, American!" like scheduling an important meeting overseas during a major American holiday.
Whatever. I digress. In spite of an initial panic and breakdown, we survived his trip away--me alone with Marley, two-and-a-half; Holland, 1 month old; Pagoda, Pekingese dog; and Picasso, cat; (both with limited brain functionality.)
But no matter HOW well I try to keep it together during any of Ian's business trips, the shit always hits the fan. For your reading pleasure, I have listed the Top Six Things That Happen When My Husband Leaves Town.
1. My computer goes on the fritz. As soon as my husband crosses the county line, my computer takes a shit. The internet goes down, it gets infected with a virus, or it shuts down...and doesn't restart. GOOD TIMES.
2. Someone throws up and/or has diarrhea. (Bonus points if I step in it.) This time, Marley threw up...poor thing got the stomach flu. She puked all over herself, the bed, and the bathroom...multiple times. The dog got diarrhea.
3. The cat runs away. Nothing gives Picasso more pleasure than hearing me frantically call his name down the block. He always runs away for at least a day whenever Ian leaves town. I wouldn't worry so much, but we have possums the size of baby elephants that roam our complex at night, and I just KNOW they want a piece of him.
4. Some key appliance stops working. This trip, our Zanzibar Bouncer took a shit. This happens to be Holland's favorite baby device, and it is where she takes most of her naps. The "soothing vibration" feature simply stopped working. Yay.
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The Zanzibar Bouncer
5. The "Check Engine" light goes on in my car. Nuff said.
6. A swarm of angry bees attacks our townhome. Seriously. This happened on Friday. A giant pile of buzzing, freaky, festering bees took up residence on our driveway by the bougainvillea. Soon it grew to a swarm, and of thousands of the little creatures began hurling themselves at our windows. I was so scared the little buggers would squeeze through a hole in the screens that I was forced to close up all of our doors and windows and was held captive with two fussy kids indoors on an 80-degree day. Yeah!
Does the shit hit the fan when YOUR husband leaves town? If so, please share!
Whatever. I digress. In spite of an initial panic and breakdown, we survived his trip away--me alone with Marley, two-and-a-half; Holland, 1 month old; Pagoda, Pekingese dog; and Picasso, cat; (both with limited brain functionality.)
But no matter HOW well I try to keep it together during any of Ian's business trips, the shit always hits the fan. For your reading pleasure, I have listed the Top Six Things That Happen When My Husband Leaves Town.
1. My computer goes on the fritz. As soon as my husband crosses the county line, my computer takes a shit. The internet goes down, it gets infected with a virus, or it shuts down...and doesn't restart. GOOD TIMES.
2. Someone throws up and/or has diarrhea. (Bonus points if I step in it.) This time, Marley threw up...poor thing got the stomach flu. She puked all over herself, the bed, and the bathroom...multiple times. The dog got diarrhea.
3. The cat runs away. Nothing gives Picasso more pleasure than hearing me frantically call his name down the block. He always runs away for at least a day whenever Ian leaves town. I wouldn't worry so much, but we have possums the size of baby elephants that roam our complex at night, and I just KNOW they want a piece of him.
4. Some key appliance stops working. This trip, our Zanzibar Bouncer took a shit. This happens to be Holland's favorite baby device, and it is where she takes most of her naps. The "soothing vibration" feature simply stopped working. Yay.
The Zanzibar Bouncer
5. The "Check Engine" light goes on in my car. Nuff said.
6. A swarm of angry bees attacks our townhome. Seriously. This happened on Friday. A giant pile of buzzing, freaky, festering bees took up residence on our driveway by the bougainvillea. Soon it grew to a swarm, and of thousands of the little creatures began hurling themselves at our windows. I was so scared the little buggers would squeeze through a hole in the screens that I was forced to close up all of our doors and windows and was held captive with two fussy kids indoors on an 80-degree day. Yeah!
Does the shit hit the fan when YOUR husband leaves town? If so, please share!
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Beating the Dead Horse: Why Baby #2 Isn't THAT Much Harder
Lots of my friends are cornering me and asking in hushed whispers, "So...how is it REALLY with two kids now? Are you going nuts?"
My answer, thus far, is "not that bad!" I know, I know...my baby is a mere three weeks old. I'm sure when she starts spending more time awake and demanding more of my attention I will be eating my words. I'll be going out of my mind and then you can all laugh. But for the time being, I think it's pretty awesome! True, I am sleep-deprived, and have no idea where I am ,or what I am doing half the time. Sometimes I even forget my baby's name. But I am happy!
So here are my Top 7 Reasons Why Baby #2 Isn't THAT Much Harder.
1. Your ass has already been kicked by Baby #1. It feels like I took such a beating with my first baby, that there's not much left my second baby can do to me. It's like adding insult to injury, or beating a dead horse. The horse is already dead! Stop beating it!
2. Baby #1 has already turned your life upside down...in other words, you've already adjusted to being a mom. Being a mom to Baby #1 has taught you some important life-lessons, like you CANNOT go out drinking until 2am and expect to wake up at 6am with your baby and NOT throw up.
3. You know what the hell you're doing. Even if you haven't mastered the swaddle, at least you know how your breast pump works, or how to put together the Neptune Ocean Adventure Gym.
4. You've learned that babies aren't as fragile or delicate as you thought they were. I only bought kimono-style jammies and onesies for Marley, because I thought it was "too hard on her" to pull things over her head. What a loser! And I'd freak out and roll her on her back if she rolled over to her belly at night fearing she would suffocate herself in her crib. Yeah. IDIOT!
5. You take time for yourself. Well, at least to shower and pee. With my first baby I rarely showered, because WHAT IF SOMETHING HAPPENED TO HER when I was in the shower freeing my body of bacteria, dirt and grime? I also would race to her nursery to feed her at night, practically peeing my pants in the rocking chair because I wouldn't stop to pee first. Because I could tell by my baby's cry, she needed food IMMEDIATELY and could NOT WAIT while I went pee!
6. Four words: Stroller Strides Meal Train! Hopefully you have joined Stroller Strides with Baby #1 and you get to take advantage of the force of nature that is the MEAL TRAIN. Three days after my baby was born the home-cookin' started coming through my front door! In three weeks I got 15 meals delivered to my house, no shit. From shrimp and tomato bruschetta to home-made gelato to tator-tot casserole, there was even enough for leftovers. God bless the MEAL TRAIN!
7. You finally realize that everything DOES go by so fast...and you treasure every little moment. "It goes by so fast!" Everyone tells you this when you hold baby #1. But you don't really believe them...you are so caught up in the moment and looking towards the next milestone. When will baby sleep through the night? When will baby start crawling? Now that you've done it before, you realize that this time is fleeting! Now with baby #2 you get to enjoy and savor each passing moment, because you realize they will be gone before you know it!
Thanks for reading! And can you think of any other reasons why Baby #2 is so much easier? If so, please share!
My answer, thus far, is "not that bad!" I know, I know...my baby is a mere three weeks old. I'm sure when she starts spending more time awake and demanding more of my attention I will be eating my words. I'll be going out of my mind and then you can all laugh. But for the time being, I think it's pretty awesome! True, I am sleep-deprived, and have no idea where I am ,or what I am doing half the time. Sometimes I even forget my baby's name. But I am happy!
So here are my Top 7 Reasons Why Baby #2 Isn't THAT Much Harder.
1. Your ass has already been kicked by Baby #1. It feels like I took such a beating with my first baby, that there's not much left my second baby can do to me. It's like adding insult to injury, or beating a dead horse. The horse is already dead! Stop beating it!
2. Baby #1 has already turned your life upside down...in other words, you've already adjusted to being a mom. Being a mom to Baby #1 has taught you some important life-lessons, like you CANNOT go out drinking until 2am and expect to wake up at 6am with your baby and NOT throw up.
3. You know what the hell you're doing. Even if you haven't mastered the swaddle, at least you know how your breast pump works, or how to put together the Neptune Ocean Adventure Gym.
4. You've learned that babies aren't as fragile or delicate as you thought they were. I only bought kimono-style jammies and onesies for Marley, because I thought it was "too hard on her" to pull things over her head. What a loser! And I'd freak out and roll her on her back if she rolled over to her belly at night fearing she would suffocate herself in her crib. Yeah. IDIOT!
5. You take time for yourself. Well, at least to shower and pee. With my first baby I rarely showered, because WHAT IF SOMETHING HAPPENED TO HER when I was in the shower freeing my body of bacteria, dirt and grime? I also would race to her nursery to feed her at night, practically peeing my pants in the rocking chair because I wouldn't stop to pee first. Because I could tell by my baby's cry, she needed food IMMEDIATELY and could NOT WAIT while I went pee!
6. Four words: Stroller Strides Meal Train! Hopefully you have joined Stroller Strides with Baby #1 and you get to take advantage of the force of nature that is the MEAL TRAIN. Three days after my baby was born the home-cookin' started coming through my front door! In three weeks I got 15 meals delivered to my house, no shit. From shrimp and tomato bruschetta to home-made gelato to tator-tot casserole, there was even enough for leftovers. God bless the MEAL TRAIN!
7. You finally realize that everything DOES go by so fast...and you treasure every little moment. "It goes by so fast!" Everyone tells you this when you hold baby #1. But you don't really believe them...you are so caught up in the moment and looking towards the next milestone. When will baby sleep through the night? When will baby start crawling? Now that you've done it before, you realize that this time is fleeting! Now with baby #2 you get to enjoy and savor each passing moment, because you realize they will be gone before you know it!
Thanks for reading! And can you think of any other reasons why Baby #2 is so much easier? If so, please share!
Saturday, June 18, 2011
Pushing Out a Nine-Pound Baby: Helpful Tips and Tricks!
"You know when I told you Holland might be the same size as Marley?" This is my doctor talking, as he is pulling Holland out of my vagina. "Well, I lied. She's BIGGER."
My new baby, Holland Giselle Van Tuyl, weighed in at 9 pounds, 1 oz. THAT'S RIGHT. I PUSHED A 9-POUND BABY OUT MY VAGINA. I don't know whether to feel intensely proud of this, like I scored a Purple Heart medal or something in battle, or if I should be embarrassed, knowing that everyone is inwardly wondering about the wrecked state of my vagina.
It all started on Friday, June 3rd at around 6am. I woke up with some contractions. I'd been having Braxton-Hicks all week, but these felt a little...different. More intense. My adrenaline started pumping and my fight-or-flight response kicked in. This was it! We were fleeing allright...straight to the anesthesiologist!
"WAKE UP!" I hissed at Ian. "WE'RE GOING TO THE HOSPITAL. LET'S GO!"
"Huh?" said my bewildered husband. "Do I have time to take a shower? My hair is DIRTY."
"NOOOO!" I hissed.
5 minutes later, Ian ambled out of the shower and Marley and I were dressed and ready to go, waiting by the front door. This was actually GREAT timing, because my doctor was scheduled to be on-duty ALL DAY. Baby Holland was right on schedule!
"Whoa, you're at least 7 centimeters, and your sac of waters is bulging..." said Dr. Nystul as he inspected the situation 30 minutes later in triage. "We need to order your epidural now if we're going to get it in time! And we need to get you into a room right away!"
Turns out the hospital was FULL. The wait for the anesthesiologist was bound to be long! I instantly panicked. My worst fears were coming true. I wasn't going to get my epidural in time, and I was going to have my baby in the hallway! For fuck's sake!
Luckily, they were able to get a room for me, and they wheeled me in there. They didn't want me to walk in case my water broke before they could get me the epidural.
My doctor came in few minutes later. "Whew," he said, sinking into a chair. "It's crazy out there! It's like a bunch of jumbo jets, all trying to land at the same time." Apparently FIFTEEN PREGNANT PEOPLE were there, all trying to have their babies that morning.
Just then, the anesthesiologist walked in the room. "I'm here for the VIP," he said.
"Are you here with the epidural?" I instantly perked up. "If so, then yes, that's me, I'm the VIP!"
Turns out my doctor had messaged the anesthesiologist to haul-ass to my room, claiming that I was a "VIP." Yes! Just then, a SECOND anesthesiologist showed up, again saying he was here to help the "VIP".
Lookie here, I thought to myself. I have not ONE but TWO anestisiologists in my room! This is awesome.
Anesthesiologist #1 informed Anesthesiologist #2 that he was assisting the "VIP", and that it was all getting taken care of.
"Why is she a VIP?" asked Anesthesiologist #2.
"She's a friend of Nystul's," said Anesthesiologist #1. Yes folks, that's why it's helpful to get in good with your doctor! Needless to say, the epidural was administered, and my mood improved drastically. Maybe this wasn't going to be as bad as I thought!
20 minutes later, my doctor came in and checked me again. "Whew," he said. "Yup, you're ten centimeters. Are you ready to have a baby?"
So, I had my baby. I pushed through FOUR contractions, and out she came. No episiotomy and only a few stitches. And very little pain! Honestly, I've taken poos that hurt worse than this. I couldn't believe it!
Meanwhile, my husband was in a far worse state, huddling over the chair next to my bed, with the oxygen mask on his head. Luckily, he didn't pass out.
Soon Baby Holland was in my arms, like she had been there all her life. I had made it through labor and delivery! GREAT SUCCESS!
Anyway, based on my experience, I know consider myself an bona-fide expert on pushing out 9-pound babies, and have compiled a helpful list of tips and techniques.
1. Think you might be in labor? Get to the hospital. Now! It's better to get their early and get sent home then to delivery your baby on the side of the road.
2. Get in good with your doctor. Become a "VIP," and OWN it. It helps to wear lipstick, and maintain an aura of mystery. You COULD be a VIP. What do they know?
3. Get your drugs. Get them early. As my anesthesiologist said, "press the button early and often." Don't--under any circumstances-- forget about the epidural button. I forgot about the button the first time and boy did I pay for it.
4. Do not attempt this at home. Are you crazy?
5. Only have your baby when your doctor is on-duty. Do not attempt this delivery with a stranger.
6. Do NOT attempt to push out 9 pound baby if it is your first child. Wait for baby #2, after everything is a little more stretched out.
7. Make this your last baby. Unless you are sadistic, consider making this your last child. They say babies get progressively bigger with each one. What, you want to try pushing out a ten-pounder? You're in the wrong spot...go find a blog for crazy people.
8. Don't be afraid to ask for more drugs. After you've pushed out the 9 pound baby, there is bound to be some wreckage down there. You might be a little more uncomfortable. Don't be afraid to act like a weenie and request MORE DRUGS.
9. Don't even think about wearing your pre-pregnancy clothes yet. Your baby was 9 pounds. What, are you high??? Wait for that shit to settle down a bit. Rome wasn't built in a day!
I hope you have found these tips and tricks helpful should you find yourself in the precarious position of pushing out a plus-size baby. Good luck, may the force be with you!
My new baby, Holland Giselle Van Tuyl, weighed in at 9 pounds, 1 oz. THAT'S RIGHT. I PUSHED A 9-POUND BABY OUT MY VAGINA. I don't know whether to feel intensely proud of this, like I scored a Purple Heart medal or something in battle, or if I should be embarrassed, knowing that everyone is inwardly wondering about the wrecked state of my vagina.
It all started on Friday, June 3rd at around 6am. I woke up with some contractions. I'd been having Braxton-Hicks all week, but these felt a little...different. More intense. My adrenaline started pumping and my fight-or-flight response kicked in. This was it! We were fleeing allright...straight to the anesthesiologist!
"WAKE UP!" I hissed at Ian. "WE'RE GOING TO THE HOSPITAL. LET'S GO!"
"Huh?" said my bewildered husband. "Do I have time to take a shower? My hair is DIRTY."
"NOOOO!" I hissed.
5 minutes later, Ian ambled out of the shower and Marley and I were dressed and ready to go, waiting by the front door. This was actually GREAT timing, because my doctor was scheduled to be on-duty ALL DAY. Baby Holland was right on schedule!
"Whoa, you're at least 7 centimeters, and your sac of waters is bulging..." said Dr. Nystul as he inspected the situation 30 minutes later in triage. "We need to order your epidural now if we're going to get it in time! And we need to get you into a room right away!"
Turns out the hospital was FULL. The wait for the anesthesiologist was bound to be long! I instantly panicked. My worst fears were coming true. I wasn't going to get my epidural in time, and I was going to have my baby in the hallway! For fuck's sake!
Luckily, they were able to get a room for me, and they wheeled me in there. They didn't want me to walk in case my water broke before they could get me the epidural.
My doctor came in few minutes later. "Whew," he said, sinking into a chair. "It's crazy out there! It's like a bunch of jumbo jets, all trying to land at the same time." Apparently FIFTEEN PREGNANT PEOPLE were there, all trying to have their babies that morning.
Just then, the anesthesiologist walked in the room. "I'm here for the VIP," he said.
"Are you here with the epidural?" I instantly perked up. "If so, then yes, that's me, I'm the VIP!"
Turns out my doctor had messaged the anesthesiologist to haul-ass to my room, claiming that I was a "VIP." Yes! Just then, a SECOND anesthesiologist showed up, again saying he was here to help the "VIP".
Lookie here, I thought to myself. I have not ONE but TWO anestisiologists in my room! This is awesome.
Anesthesiologist #1 informed Anesthesiologist #2 that he was assisting the "VIP", and that it was all getting taken care of.
"Why is she a VIP?" asked Anesthesiologist #2.
"She's a friend of Nystul's," said Anesthesiologist #1. Yes folks, that's why it's helpful to get in good with your doctor! Needless to say, the epidural was administered, and my mood improved drastically. Maybe this wasn't going to be as bad as I thought!
20 minutes later, my doctor came in and checked me again. "Whew," he said. "Yup, you're ten centimeters. Are you ready to have a baby?"
So, I had my baby. I pushed through FOUR contractions, and out she came. No episiotomy and only a few stitches. And very little pain! Honestly, I've taken poos that hurt worse than this. I couldn't believe it!
Meanwhile, my husband was in a far worse state, huddling over the chair next to my bed, with the oxygen mask on his head. Luckily, he didn't pass out.
Soon Baby Holland was in my arms, like she had been there all her life. I had made it through labor and delivery! GREAT SUCCESS!
Anyway, based on my experience, I know consider myself an bona-fide expert on pushing out 9-pound babies, and have compiled a helpful list of tips and techniques.
1. Think you might be in labor? Get to the hospital. Now! It's better to get their early and get sent home then to delivery your baby on the side of the road.
2. Get in good with your doctor. Become a "VIP," and OWN it. It helps to wear lipstick, and maintain an aura of mystery. You COULD be a VIP. What do they know?
3. Get your drugs. Get them early. As my anesthesiologist said, "press the button early and often." Don't--under any circumstances-- forget about the epidural button. I forgot about the button the first time and boy did I pay for it.
4. Do not attempt this at home. Are you crazy?
5. Only have your baby when your doctor is on-duty. Do not attempt this delivery with a stranger.
6. Do NOT attempt to push out 9 pound baby if it is your first child. Wait for baby #2, after everything is a little more stretched out.
7. Make this your last baby. Unless you are sadistic, consider making this your last child. They say babies get progressively bigger with each one. What, you want to try pushing out a ten-pounder? You're in the wrong spot...go find a blog for crazy people.
8. Don't be afraid to ask for more drugs. After you've pushed out the 9 pound baby, there is bound to be some wreckage down there. You might be a little more uncomfortable. Don't be afraid to act like a weenie and request MORE DRUGS.
9. Don't even think about wearing your pre-pregnancy clothes yet. Your baby was 9 pounds. What, are you high??? Wait for that shit to settle down a bit. Rome wasn't built in a day!
I hope you have found these tips and tricks helpful should you find yourself in the precarious position of pushing out a plus-size baby. Good luck, may the force be with you!
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