And the countdown to 10....concludes....with Part 7

Part 7: It's not the destination....it's the journey!

The beauty of motherhood is lost on those who can't seem to smell anything past the vomit that seems to get into places you never thought imaginable.  It's also lost on those who are pretty sure they would sell a kidney or lung JUST to gain a full night of uninterrupted sleep.  I was TOTALLY that person.

What am I saying....I still AM that person!  I may no longer have to sustain my children's life by feeding them from my own body, but believe me you, they are busy sucking other things out of me like sanity, my ability to retain information, my will to live at times and the capacity of my ass to reside in the lower two digit numbers.  Oh hips...where have you gone??  Oh wait...that's right, you now reside on my curvacious daughters.  Ugh!

Even with all that I've had some of my best moments being their mom.  I've also had some of my most embarrassing ones as well.

Those are the stories that Jon loves me to focus on.  He's sadistic that way.

When Hannah was approximately 3 to maybe 3 1/2 months old I had breastfed her on the couch while watching television.  It's was a leisurely Sunday afternoon and we were busy just passing the day by being completely in love with every sound and face that she was making.  It's these moments...these memories that make you want to have more children.  What happened next is what makes you think twice about motherhood and possibly how easy it may actually be to mame your spouse.

Jon:  Wow she's a little piggy.

Me:  I know.  I think this is the most she has eaten in a while.  She usually just snacks.

Jon:  I think I'd snack if I was down there too.  It'd give me more reasons to snuggle up to your boobs.

Me:  You'd have to get in line behind your infant daughter.

Jon:  Why ya gotta be so mean?

Me:  Why do YOU have to be such a pig?  I'm busy feeding your daughter and your making sexual inuendo's.

Jon:  I'm just saying...I support breastfeeding.

Me:  You're just saying that because you want me to breastfeed you.

Hannah begins to make gurgly faces as I am burping her.  It kind of looks like she's rolling her eyes at Jon's lame attempts to dig himself out of this hole but that's just my interpretation of the memory.

Finally she lets out a huge burp and follows it with a toot and then seems completely content to just sit there and check out the world.

Me:  (singing to Hannah while blowing bubbles on her tummy) I love you...mommy loves you.  Who loves you...mommy loves you.

Clearly she is digging this.

Me:  (beginning to wiggle her arms and legs in a vague dancing motion)

Jon:  You probably shouldn't do that she just ate.

Me:  I am not doing anything.  I am just moving her about.  My god she is barely moving.

Jon:  I don't think you should do that.  You always yell at me NOT to do that.  You say she'll puke.

Me:  (clearly he doesn't understand that him doing what I say and me doing what I say are two totally different things) *rolling my eyes*  Okay.

Jon walks out of the room and the coast is clear to go back to the dancing.  I proceed to move Hannah about.  She's going from slightly subdued moves to busting out her show stoppers.  I decide to end with a little airplane and a kiss....

BIG FUCKING MISTAKE

Bleeeeehhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh......

Me: (gurgling sound) bay bay...

Jon: (no response...)

I can somewhat hear Jon moving around in the kitchen

Me: (gurgling sound) bay bay BAY.....

Jon:  Are you calling me?  You know that I can't hear you...speak up.

Me:  (trying desperately NOT to swallow what has been launched into my mouth by my once beloved infant daughter) bay bay...BAYYYYYY...ga ma a tow a bay b pu n ma mo....

Jon:  (sounding more than a little aggrivated)  WHAT??

Me:  (really trying not to puke while trying NOT to swallow what is being swished around in my mouth with every attempt to speak) I sa...ga ma a tow a bay b pu n ma mo......

Jon  (choirs of angels come down from heaven and sing as my husband in all his fucking brilliant retardedness who can't hear me scream from another room has now deciphered the god damn Da Vinci Code of "baby vomit speak")  I'm sorry...did you just say that you need a towel because the baby puked in your mouth?  (laughter)

Me:  BAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY......a men a...hu up n ga m a tow!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Jon:  (attempting NOT to piss himself, because clearly that could be used against him in this completely embarrassing moment of me choking back a mouthful of my own regurgiatated breastmilk) Hahahahahahahahahaha.....ok, ok....oh my god....oh my god...my sides hurt....ok, ok...here...give me the baby...here....oh my god...oh this is too funny...oh my god...here's the towel...

Stuff like that...10 years later...still funny.

I remember a time years later when Hannah was 3 years old and she learned how to use air quotes.

Correctly.

Neither of us know how she learned this.  It definitely wasn't something that we had done.  We aren't big air quote people...I mean really, who is??

I was coming up on a jaw surgery to treat chronic migraines, worsened by TMJ, which had completely debilitated me.  Poor Hannah had gotten very used to sitting in semi quiet, semi dim rooms with mommy by this time.  We had her in Mother's Day out programs so she wasn't a complete shut in, but there were still those few hours between when the program ended and Jon came home.

She was perched on the end of our bed watching Disney Channel.  I, as usual, had my head wrapped in a towel to shield my eyes from light and an ice pack on top for good measure.  I heard her crawling to the top of the bed towards my head so I peeled back my shroud.

Hannah:  Momma?

Me:  Yeah babe.

Hannah:  Momma...when dinner is?

Me:  (slighty out of it...trying to angle head to see the clock)  Ummm.  Soon babe...daddy will be home with it in just a little bit.  Okay?

Hannah:  Tay.  Cause we need dinner is.  It's "night time".

Me:  (slightly baffled by the air quotes, I decide to press the matter)  Hannah what do you mean by "night time" (repeating the same air quotes)

Hannah:  (cocking her head to the side and squinching her eyese at me as if I am possibly the silliest person she has met in ALL her 3 years of life) Momma..."night time" is when it "dark outside"!  (she then puts her hands in fist down on her sides as if this gesture combined with the double air quotes will of course drive her point right on home)

Very true Hannah dear.  Very true indeed.  Thankfully she did a repeat performance for Jon when he got home and we both had a good laugh at how sassy she was.

Life with girls is NOT all frills, bows and pink sparkliness.  Nope...life raising Hannah so far has been a manic mixture of Sporty Spice, Power Puff Girls and Disney Channel girls that are clearly 20 playing 10 year olds who my daughter wants more than anything to mimic.

Welcome to my hell.  The water is warm...jump on in.

Hannah can be rough and tumble like the time we had gone shopping for new jeans.  She had picked out 4 that she absolutely loved and "mom I will never ask for another thing if you only buy me THESE pants".  Oh lord...go sell your lies somewhere else sweetheart...my grandmother didn't buy those lies with my mother, my mother didn't buy those lies with me and HELLO I'm not buying them from you or your sister.

Not more than 48 hours later Hannah is on our front lawn with one of her friends playing.  Another few minutes after that she is at the door crying and the friend is trying not to laugh.  Clearly something embarrassing has befallen our daughter.  Days like this make parenting so magical.  Days like this make all the moments they make you feel like a jackleg by standing in the middle of Wal-mart screaming "you're not my mommy...I wan't my mommy" because you have denied them the Pokemon card, Power Puff Girl, Barbie, Coloring book, speck of dust...whatever...and now they are going to make you pay with public humiliation and maybe, just maybe a few dicey moments in the back of a police car explaining exactly why it is the little girl is so insistent her "real" mother lives in Pennsylvania and raises horses.  Yes...your childs embarrassment at the fact that they and not you has done something to bring said embarassment...those moments are the lottery of parenthood.

Jon:  Hannah what's the matter?

Me:  Why are you crying?  Are you hurt?

Hannah:  *sniff*

Me:  Hannah...speak up...what happened?

Hannah:  (quivering lip) *sniff...sniff*

Jon:  Hannah Michel...you have until the count of 5 to tell me what is going on.  1....2....3....

Hannah:  (bawling)....*sniff*....I....was....playing....and, umm...and I thought I'd be....ummm...I...*sniff*....I thought it would....*crying*....*sniff*...umm...I thought it would be fun....to umm...(becoming quieter)...fun to be a....(barely audible)...fun to be a dog....

Me:  Huh...you thought it would be fun to be a what?  Babe...we can't hear you?  (I clearly had heard her, but I wanted to make completely sure I heard her)

Hannah:  *sniff*...I thought it would be fun to be a dog....

Jon:  Uh...huh.  And how does that factor into the crying??

Me:  Did you get hurt?

Hannah:  *sniff*...ummm...*sniff*....not exactly

Me:  Okay then what "exactly" is the problem?

Hannah: *sniff*....I RIPPED MY PANTS....(complete hysterical bawling)

Jon:  You ripped your new pants?

Hannah:  Yyyyyeeeessssssssssss....*sniff*

Me:  (completely incredulous that this is in fact the truth)  How?  How did you rip your pants?  Show me.

Hannah:  Well...I had her (pointing the unsupecting and very uncomfortable looking friend) hook the lead for the dogs to my belt loop.....and then I ran around in a circle...playing like a dog....*sniff*.....and my pants....well...they ripped.

Jon & Me:  (stiffling laughter) (unable to stiffle laughter) (about to choke as we realize we can NO longer stiffle laughter do the only thing we can possibly do which is turn our backs on our crying child in the door)

Me:  (from over my shoulder)  Have a seat on the porch Hannah and your dad and I will be out in a moment to deal with this.

We shut the front door.  High tail it back to our bedroom.  Lock ourselves in the bathroom and bust out laughing for a good 10 minutes.

We made her wear those pants until they were highwaters.  Every....single....time she came out in them we had to fight not to pee ourselves laughing at the day she decided to play dog.

These are just a few of the moments in my 10 years raising my sweet baby girl.  I'm sure there will be many more.  I record them to use as blackmail later.

As Jon and I watched her blow out the candles on her cookie cake covered in too much make-up from the make overs they were performing on one another for the sleepover we realized that all those moments have led us to this one.  All the tears, fears, laughter, joy, pride, guilt, sleeplessness and so many more have culminated in this one little girl.

Motherhood...hell parenthood is one hell of a ride.  The admission isn't free.  The side effects are permanent and the pay is...well, it sucks.  But the moments of shear madness that lead to some of the bar none, hands down most amazing memories you will ever create while sober are worth the journey.  If you haven't jumped on this train I highly recommend it.  Plus, it's kind of like a pyramid scheme...the more of you that I get to do it, the better the prizes for me.  Get to it people...make babies.  Make memories.  Make me not be the only crazy lady.

~JP

And the countdown to 10...continues...Part 6

Part 6: I'm all for jokes...but really, is this the time??

Once I was firmly situated on the operating table I began to feel really, really...REALLY nervous.  I know it sounds like a moment of brilliant retardedness but at that exact moment it all seemed real.  It was like the past 40 weeks didn't even happen.  Like I had just showed up at the hospital and they announced, "hey you look like a nice woman who'd enjoy a new baby...come on back and we'll cut one out of your belly".

When they talk about pregnancy induced amnesia...I'm pretty sure they are referring to moments like this.

The anesthesiologist began to push the meds and they made sure I was good and numb.  I was elated because when I'd had Olivia I had an epic failure of an epidural.  They didn't insert the catheter properly and when they went to push the meds I could feel them leaking down my back.  Unfortunately, the monitors began to signal that Olivia was in fetal heart distress and she needed to be out.  NOW.  So they couldn't take the time to try and reinsert the epidural and I had to be put completely under.  I was the absolute last person to greet the arrival of my daughter.  I didn't want the same thing to happen with my the delivery of my son.

Once the drugs began to take affect I began professing my love to the anesthesiologist...the nurses...some dude that was bringing in gloves.  They figured that was a perfect time to bring in my husband.

They laid out the rules of how he was NOT to touch the sterile curtain that shielded him from a full view of the surgery that was about to reveal the baby.  I secretly wished them luck with that endeavor because I'd been telling him not to touch stuff in doctor and hospital settings through this whole pregnancy and HE WOULD NEVER LISTEN TO ME.  You have no idea how scary it is to watch your husband screw with a piece of equipment that probably cost as much if not more than a years salary.

They provided a stool and he took it...just in case.  I was worried that he would pass out.  He didn't do very well with blood.  Or surgery.  Or gore in general.  But I was high as a kite on pain meds...if he hit the ground...I was pretty sure one of the scrub clad individuals and that random dude with the gloves would handle it.

Then the doctor came in.  He explained that I'd feel some tugging and pressure but if I began to feel pain that I should just let the anesthesiologist know and she'd fix me right up.  I felt like saying, "dude...you do your job and don't you worry bout me and Sarah (that was the first name of the anesthesiologist) will be JUST FINE over here".

He asked if we were ready to go and we chimed in with a yes.  For a split second I wondered what would have occured if we would have said no.  Would he have been all like, okay..."I'll step out for a latte and come back in a few and see if you are ready to do this thing??"

Jon asked how long it would take before the baby was out.  The doctor explained that since their was no distress he could have the baby out in about 3-4 minutes.  I was amazed.  Made me ask how fast they could have a baby out in times of distress and was floored when he said less than a minute if need be.  Holy crap.  He said that getting the baby out was the easy part.  Putting everything back in was the long part.  Hmmmm...could have gone without the last part of info.

And so it began...

Jon says that he remembers seeing smoke from the laser.  I don't have any memory of it.  All I remember is feeling tugs and the anesthesiologist asking "are you okay"..."are you hurting"...the haze of her pushing more meds because apparently I said yes and then the sound of crying started.

Next came the voice of the doctor..."congratulations....IT'S....A.....GIRL!"

WHHHHAAAAAAAATTTTT?????

I turned to Jon willing him to verify that the doctor was in fact the King of Bad Jokes!

Jon looked down at me with misty eyes...."babe....it's a girl"!

I think I actually uttered the words, "stop joking...that's not funny" before finally looking up and seeing that in fact I was the proud momma of a beautiful baby girl.

Garren Jesse....was in fact a beautiful...perfect...10 fingers, 10 toed...little Hannah Michel!

I kissed Jon and told him to please follow the baby to the nursery.  I didn't want her out of our sight and since I obviously wasn't going anywhere...that left him on baby watch.

I got some more magical pain meds and the doctor continued with bad jokes saying first, "let me just make sure there aren't any more babies in there" and then asking "sure you don't want me to tie up any loose ends while I am down here".  To the last one I actually said yes...but he said, "no".

Next moment I can remember is waking up in the recovery room with my nurse checking my vitals.  I asked if I could see my daughter.  I then asked if it was in fact a daughter that I'd had and not just a dream.  She confirmed that it was in fact a girl and that I could see her once I was back in my room.

A few minutes later Jon strolled in all proud papa like.  Feeling drunk with the love of his first born or maybe just drunk he decided to be a jokester.

Me:  Hey...hey...is she okay.

Jon:  She's beautiful. And don't worry about the whole boy thing...doc says we can try again in like 8 weeks!

Thankfully...for him I was numb from the chest down so I couldn't physically get out of the bed and kick his ass.  However, my recovery nurse who was 3 months pregnant herself actually told Jon to, "go ahead and start running now...I'll give you a head start".

He left to go back to Hannah's side and I waited, albeit impatiently, for the moment when I could finally be properly introduced to my baby girl.

A few hours later I was rolled back to my room and in came the little lady of the day.

She was beautiful.  Absolutely captivating.  I was in love.  Everything that had taken place to get to this day just faded away.  I had my husband and two beautiful daughters...life, in this moment was perfection.

When we began making phone calls to announce our new baby we had a lot of "are you shitting me" and "no...come on...stop joking" to deal with.  Even my mom was blown away by the fact that we had absolutely NOTHING for a baby girl and rushed to buy something pink and frilly to bring home our newest family member home in.

Three days later we were heading home with our newly nicknamed Hannah "Banana" Michel Pettus.  I know...super original, right?  Well shortly after birth we noticed that she had jaundice so until we could do the sunlight treatments like the doctor prescribed we'd have a little Banana to love on.

I made Jon stop at the store because apparently my craziness hadn't stopped with delivery and I was intent on buying as much pink stuff for my new daughter as a woman who has just given birth can manage to get her hands on.  Once we got home this pretty little girl would be inundated in mass amounts of blue and Paddington Bear.  I needed something to break up the masculine undertones until I could feminine it up!!

Olivia got the first look at her baby sister when we arrived home.  She had gotten sick while I was "laboring" so we chose not to have her come to the hospital.  First thing she said when she saw her was, "hey wasn't she supposed to be a boy?"

Too tired to deal with another smart ass comment, even if it was from my 5 year old daughter I decided to just pop a pain killer and settle in to enjoy all the magic and mania that is being the mother of two girls....

~JP

They have books for that you know?

When my kids were little...after the tiresome 3's (for some reason we didn't get terrible 2's...I'm thinking years 5 to present have MORE than made up for this) we would read them books that my MIL or my mother (one of the garage queen maven's) had gotten for them that went over manners and the basics of common courtesy.  There was one on biting, which I really wish I had gotten round about the breast feeding time.  Not because I'm looney enough to think that it would have worked to coax them from chomping on my nipples, but because I would have used it as a shield.  Think guillotine...but the baby would maintain her head and I would maintain my nipple.  Win, win situation.

Others were on choosing your words, sharing, hitting, kindness...etc.

After watching the MTV VMA's tonight it is clear that Kanye West is in need of those books.  The way that this 32 year old man behaved towards a 19 year old Taylor Swift was downright...well...it was fucking rude!

I sat watching with Hannah and the reaction was one of utter disgust.  Out of the mouths of babes....

Hannah:  Oh.  Oh.  Oh my god...mom, mom...MOM do you really think Taylor will win??

Me: I...

Hannah:  (unwilling to let me finish thought...have no idea where she gets this from) Mom...oh ma gawd...they are about to announce the winner!  Oh, oh ma gawd!  Do you think she will mom?  Do you??

Me:  I re.....

TV ~ Taylor Lautner announces:  "And the moon man for Best Female video goes to.....Taylor Swift."

Applause...applause...applause...Taylor Swift looking surprised in WAY too red lipstick but still beautiful.....

Hannah:  Oh, ma gawd...."why can't you see...you belong to meeeee"(daughter singing and bopping around my bed)....

....Taylor Swift begins voice breaking speech....

Hannah:  Oh ma gawd mom, mom I love this....huh...what?? 

Me:  What the hell?? (secretly proud I didn't say fuck)

...Kanye jumps on stage mumbling some shit about Beyonce and how "Single Ladies" was the best video of all time...

Hannah:  What is his problem?  Why is he being so mean?  Mom, mom...MOM it's not his turn...tell him it's NOT HIS TURN??  Is he making her cry??

Me:  (trying to calm a very pissed 9yr old) Maybe it's just a skit...maybe she is gonna rip off her dress and reveal some little frock and her and Kanye are gonna break it down country/rap style!

I am not really believing the shit that I am trying to sell.  Unfortunately, I had a daquiri earlier and this put me completely off mom guard and I really didn't think that I was gonna have to dig deep for life leasons so I had to act quickly to explain away the douchebaggery that was taking place on my television.  I watched as my very caring and passionate child turn into someone who looks as though she is ready to commandeer my Honda, book it to NY and kick some Kanye ass!

Hannah:  Mom that doesn't look like part of the show.  Mom they wouldn't let her cry if it was part of the show...would they?

Me:  (now I am not only pissed at Kanye...I have to add MTV to my shit list because they are allowing my thin skinned baby to be hurt...if anyone is gonna fuck up this kid it's gonna be me...I call dibs damnit) No hun...I don't think it is part of the show.  I think he is just a moron.

Hannah:  Well he needs to say sorry.  You would make me say sorry.

Me:  You're right Han...if your sister was uber successful and making me a butt load of money and you got up on stage and pissed on her speech I would make you apologize.

Hannah:  Yeah.  You would.  I wouldn't mean it...but you would make me say sorry.

I decided that it was best to send her to bed after that for fear of what else may come along.  I gave her cookies first to soften the lunatic blow that Kanye dealt.  After brushed teeth she padded off to bed.


It wasn't until later that we saw that Beyonce stepped up to the classiness plate and gave her moment on the award stage to Taylor Swift to finish her earlier, rudely interrupted, acceptance speech.  I'm beginning to think that before Momma Knowles taught her girls to flaunt their Destiny Child goodies and began creating that House of Dereon clothing line which would surely require one to have thick skin, she was a purveyor of the very books we read to our own girls. 

It gives me hope that some day...years from now...my kids will be famous well adjusted.  They will have gained millions in cold hard cash life lessons from books, people and situations.  I take comfort that for tonight...in this moment at least one of them has deciphered right from wrong. 

Yes, it took a television show.  Yes, it was about a musician.

But you take your victories where you can get them.  And this is one to go down in the victory column.

Of course tomorrow it will all be washed away as one kicks on the door to the bathroom as the other stands behind it screaming, "well...YOU SHOULD HAVE THOUGHT ABOUT THAT BEFORE YOU USED MY STUFF".  When I attempt to ask what the argument is about I get a unanimous, "NOTHING" or "NEVERMIND".  Then the door opens, the sound of a slap echoes down the hallway and it ends with a slammed door.

Time to bust out the damn books again.  I think instead of making them read them over again I am just gonna slap them upside the head and hope that the lessons get in there by osmosis...kind of like that bump ap for iPhones.  We'll call this the "life ap".

If anyone knows how I can get to Kanye I'd be more than willing to put him on my "life ap list".  Think of it like aversion therapy for jacklegs.

You're welcome.


Also...I am willing to add Congressman Joe Wilson (R-SC) to my list.  I think he could use some "life ap" time as well!  It's not nice to call people...especially the President of the US...a liar!  

Just one more way I'm trying to make the world better.  Eliminating negativity...one douchebag at a time!
~JP

Stabby boob pain...(part deux) & Penny's Thought of the Day...

It's baaaaaacccck! 

I was mid laundry folding (so I'm totally blaming domestic servitude for this mishap) when I literally was taken breathless by immense pain.  I thought maybe I had moved in some bizarre way but as time went on...folding shirt after boxers after bra after socks after underwear after pants after bathing suit and placing in owner specific piles...it became increasingly worse.  It finally got to the point where I couldn't move without feeling like not only my left boob but the whole upper left side of my chest was engulfed in this hot seering pain. 

It feels more like the return of the stabby boob pain than it does the costochondritis that cost me my last job and possibly my grasp on mental stability.  I am literally willing myself to believe that it cannot possibly be a reinfection of that. 

I think my boobs are striking back against the 27 months of life sustaining breast feeding I did when the girls were babies.  I wonder if I take all the money saved from buying formula during that time and put it towards reconstructive surgery for these puppies if that would make them stop acting like under arm rest and go back to being the fun bags that they once used to be.

The pain is too severe to really contemplate cutting on them at this moment but the idea of anesthesia is appealing to me at this very painful moment. 

It came on so sudden but is getting progressively worse as the minutes turn to hours. 

I thought Penny would remain supportive of how crappy I began to feel as the day came to a close yesterday but as I sit here writing this and trying to switch from cold to heat on the afflicted area I can see she is more and more turned off by my constant whimpering.

What happened to solidarity between women??  Oh, wait..I think she's trying to tell me something....

Ahhhh...crap.  She has a point.  If Jon's mom comes over and there's "Mount Laundry" prominently displayed on our sofa then I'm sure it will just scream, "my daughter-in-law is a FAILURE".  It's one thing to drain your family financially by eliminating one entire income and being sick all the time...then there is the whole deficiency in the motherhood department...but putting everyone's knickers on display because your having stabby boob pain is pretty much the final straw in the eyes of the extended family. 

Or at least I think it's written somewhere like that.  Maybe in the Bible after "don't covet thy neighbor" and "never allow someone to sleep past 8a on a Sunday so that they can worship" but before the chapter about "spare the rod, spoil the child".  It's been awhile since I read the Bible but I am pretty sure I saw it in there once.

It's now been 6 full hours of excruciating, non stop pain.  I am down to typing with just my right hand and Penny has gone from sitting faithfully by my side to just getting comfy and leaving me to cry while Jon snores and HGTV plays in the background.  It's the symphany of my life.

I've now consumed enough Sleepy Time tea and a fair amount of ibuprofen in order to allow me to try and get a bit of rest.  Sun up will bring more laundry and hopefully less pain. 

~JP