Pontificum Scriblerus

My perspective and ideas have undergone a significant shift in my 8 or so weeks of maternity leave. One of the major areas that has seen changes is my idea of what it is to be productive, or to do something useful. As such, going to the pool for an hour has become an extremely productive way to spend several hours, because that's how long the ordeal takes, between getting everyone ready, getting there, and getting back. Another activity I now consider extremely productive is taking myself and my baby out to lunch around the corner. It's a serious trip. An hour of doing the Wii Fit is practically a feat of heroics. Anyway - So, after several days of rain and of being decidedly UNproductive at home, I ventured out to the pool. The pool has 3 entrances. The main entrance is card operated, but has about 8 steep steps immediately after you get in, which makes it difficult to traverse with a stroller. Entrance 2 is on the other side, but it's more of an exit, ie, you can...

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Fed up with the late pregnancy bloat, I wrote about all the dumbass things that people say to pregnant women. Unfortunately, it turns out that it doesn't stop with pregnant women; it also extends to women with babies. Case and point. Yesterday, I was relaxing with Munchkin by the pool. Incidentally, most neighbors, especially female neighbors, whether I know them or not, stop over to peek inside the baby's shielded little throne and ooh and aah. This is fine by me. It's interesting, but most people who live here are of the older type, which actually has led to hubby wondering if this is supposed to be a community for active seniors? I told him, no, but real families don't live in townhouses in America. It's going to be retirees or renters. Suffice it to say, Munchkin is the only baby, and I think, the only child who lives here. So, there I was, relaxing by pool. A lady comes over. I don't know this lady, I've never spoken to this lady, I don't e...

Enough sitting home alone with the bebe, I decided. It is no longer 100 degrees out, and it's time to explore surrounding areas and get exercise. A quick google search of this area I didn't care enough to get to know, and I found a lovely and highly favorably Yelp-reviewed park, a mere 15 min drive away. (Oh, to be in a place where I wouldn't have to drive to walk...) So, without further ado, off we went. But first... I fed the bebe, changed the bebe, put the bebe in the carseat, dismembered the stroller, heaved the stroller on the trunk, packed the diaper bag with diapers, wipes and extra clothes, fed the bebe some more, changed the bebe again, added formula and bottle to the diaper bag, put the bebe back in the carseat, put the carseat in the car, realized that the cat was under the car, lured the cat from under the car with the laser, got the cat back in the house, got the diaper bag, put the diaper bag in the car, got in the car, started the car, stopped the car, got o...

1) Physical It's just a C section... But it's not. It's a surgery where they slice you open! They don't slice you open when they take out the gallbladder or the appendix anymore. (Funny aside: my father from Philly asked if they do the c sections "laparoscopically," which is just hilarious! I explained to him that when they remove gall bladders through a 1 cm incision, they chop it up first and then place it in a plastic bag before pulling out the mush through said incision. Can't usually do that with a baby, not unless you wanna get sued...) I was ordered for q 1 hour O2 sat checks, so in my haziness and exhaustion, I was subjected to sleepus interruptus every hour. I was confined to bed with a foley - and thank god for that. I wasn't allowed to eat, or drink; only ice chips. When they finally allowed me to stand up, I inspected the incision, and found some insane number of stitches, which I totally didn't expect. Trying to pee for the fi...

Remember, an eternity ago, I posted something about PMS, and how despite the fact that I have been menstruating for the last 20 years (almost), every month, I still can't figure out WHY in the WORLD am I in such a bad mood - until I get my period, and then, it's like, oooh! Duh. So, between weeks 38 and 39 of pregnancy, I started experiencing feelings very very similar to those of PMS. I tend to be a little depressive anyway, but the "sad" of PMS is a very specific kind of "sad," it's like a puddle of gooey black molasses that you stepped into and can't get your feet out of... It's what started to come over me. Contrary to predictions, I was pretty even keel throughout, and this was definitely a change, and, of course, I was thinking, god, what is going on, why am I so sad and so pissed off. It even occurred to me at the time. This feels like PMS. And (don't read if squeamish), as most women who suffer from this affliction know, with PMS, o...

I just have to document this, because I've been dealing with it for days, and my patience is about this big (indicating tiny), and my temper is about this long (indicating miniscule). All the dumbass things people do and say to me are just unbelievable. We'll start with the plain old, "when are you due?" It's harmless by itself. But try answering that same question 10 times a day! July 6th. July 6th. July 6th. Then, I try to change it up: A few weeks. Pretty soon. Not soon enough. Then I try to ignore the question, but they usually repeat it, and I can't be rude, so I start over. July 6th. July 6th. I should have just had a Tshirt made and wear it, or a plaque or something. "When are you due" is okay, I can handle it. But sometimes, after it, comes some other brilliant comment. Usually, it's "Oh, my god! That's soon!" or "Wow, that;s coming up!" This is when I cock my head like a cat and look at the person. ...