First of all, I would like you to thank me for not hunting down your phone number and keeping you up all night while Boogie held the side of her head and screamed for three hours. That took a lot of restraint on my part, so instead I just pictured myself poking you in the eyeballs while you told me there was fluid in her ears but nothing you would treat.
Remember me? I am the one who cleared my entire Tuesday calendar to bring my baby in to get examined because she was obviously not feeling good then. You were the old lady wearing a seriously age inappropriate wool sheath dress and spike heels as you worked in a pediatricians office, after the holidays when a flood of sick kids came in hoping you would make them feel better. I am not hoping that one of them vomited on your Louboutins, because that would just be mean.
Guess what?! We will be back in the wee hours this morning because even after a desperate attempt to feed my daughter at 2am, who hasn’t taken a middle of the night feeding for close to four months now, she still cried and grabbed at her ear for another hour and a half. It made us all very sad then, and very tired this morning. I am actually venturing out of the house in my sweats so I can get her in to see someone before rushing around to catch up on all the work I postponed on Tuesday.
No, I am not angry, just livid-pissed. That is all.
A Mom Who Sincerely Wishes She Had Your Phone Number, and Believes That Anyone Who Wears Louboutins To Work With Children Probably Has Never Had Children
As much as I love my caffeine and nicotine, both went the way of the skinny jeans when I found out I was pregnant. Sure, I know plenty of women who smoked during their pregnancies (most of our mothers, just to name a few) who still had kick-ass kids that grew up to be healthy adults (me, you, us… just to name some names), but I decided that if I was going to gain all that damned baby weight I may as well gain the stop smoking weight while I was at it. Oh yeah, and do gooder things for my baby by quitting, too. That was about 20 good, meaty, nicotine-free pounds right there.
Add Baby Monkey Meiners – who apparently has an obsession with cupcakes and chocolate ’cause we all know it’s not me – and that deluxe hot tub she is hanging out in to the mix, and you have me – right now. It’s the first few days of month six and I have officially packed on 31 pounds.
ZOMG, yes I am actually sharing my baby weight gain with you dear readers. See, here’s the thing, I figure I can’t possibly be the only one who has gained this much baby weight, right? Damned crickets, I can’t hear myself type… Old wives tales (dude, how cool will it be when I get to be the old wife wearing the gaudy jewelry and telling all the tales?) go along the lines that yes, we do get matching momma and baby pink Converse, but the price I am paying is that she is making her space from east to west instead front to back. That’s cool, as long as all this business goes right back to whence it came.
As much as we doth protest, most of us of the baby-oven, boobie-equipped persuasion are being told from the time we hit puberty (and increasingly before) that size does matter. And while boobies must be Manga-hottie huge, those hips, waists, legs and booties better stay as close to pre-pubescent measurements as they possibly can. Then we are suddenly asked to throw all those years of skinny-doctrine out the window and bask in the big, old glory of it all? Well, pregnant ladies used to have the market cornered on ‘big is beautiful,’ but now we have celebrities that make it appear that being thin everywhere except your belly is normal during pregnancy. Might I say, Thanks for getting pregnant, Angelina – women around the world are thanking you for it… we’re just going it in our own, special way. That’s alright though, we don’t have to live with Mr & Mrs Smith on our IMDB pages and as a crucial part of the story we tell our grandchildren, so… er, ha?
There is a good reason that certain stages of pregnancy aren’t well documented, even in many celebs – it is damned near impossible to keep your figure while growing an entire, functioning human being in your stomach. So while Angelina stays skinny and completes her Benetton ad, I am admitting to you that they may just have to come in with a crane to move me around when the delivery date approaches – despite my efforts in going to the gym four days a week and adding on that peggo-lady yoga class on Sundays. The doc says after 25lbs it isn’t all baby anymore, well yeah… it’s all those cupcakes the baby is eating!
OH! And for my Mom, who is probably the one who nominated this blog for the Top 50 Mommy Bloggers on Babble.com, you rawk. This post entitles you to one extremely obnoxious bit of parenting advice AND one laughing, ‘You deserve this.’