. . . or something like that!
I was talking to my good friend yesterday, and she was venting about feeling listless, bored, and maybe even a wee bit depressed.
She’s quite accomplished and has set out and done most of what she’s wanted to do by this point in her life, but she still feels a bit of a void. After listening to her I decided that maybe in life one of our problems is that we’re always looking for the next “big” moment, and we don’t spend enough time being happy, satisfied, and content in the present And I don’t mean just her, but all of us.
Do you ever find yourself saying “I can’t wait to _____.” (Finish this degree, get married, get pregnant, have this baby, have another baby, clean this closet, go on vacation, etc., etc.). It’s like we’re not happy unless we have something on the horizon. I am often guilty of this – I am right now, in fact. Lovegirl and I are going on vacation Thursday – I have spent every day for at least the past two weeks counting down to the 22nd. And glossed over some of the wonderful, not-so-climactic, everyday stuff along the way.
So, this entry is dedicated to the mundane, the every day, the usual, the status quo. You know – the stuff life is made of.
Things like . . .
**dancing in a rainstorm with Lovegirl
**buying and eating a perfectly delicious honeydew melon
**a good dinner of turkey cutlets, herb noodles, mixed vegetables, and corn on the cob
**telephone conversations with my perfectly crazy younger brothers
**falling asleep before Smoochy – no snoring to keep me awake
**killing a bed of poison ivy
**making it through spin class – again
**finding Lovegirl a pair of sandals WITHOUT the cartoon character du jour on them
**great blogs that help me get through the workday
**really, really loving Chamillionaire’s song “Ridin’ Dirty”
**sending my Grandma flowers
**making some new bracelets to rock this summer
**a strawberry-banana shake from Sonic
**not going over my cell phone minutes this month
**the living room being painted
**an almost clean office
**a great bottle of .97 nail polish from the beauty supply house
**actually finding a hairstyle I might replicate in Essence
**Lovegirl eating all of her vegetables
**the love of my God, my family, my friends
I am working. I am bored. What to do? I know — a meme — from me to you! I know you’ve been dying to know this stuff about me . . .
13 Things I Have Never Had
1. A brand spankin’ new car (or truck, or SUV . . . )
2. A Big Mac
3. Acrylic fingernails
4. A French manicure
5. A hangover
6. The desire to watch “Survivor”
7. An epidural
8. A Jheri Curl
9. Morning sickness
10. Diamond earrings
11. Great legs
12. A fist fight
13. An E-Z bake oven – and damn if I didn’t really, really want one.
Now, how random and fun was that? Yearh, I know, I really need to work on my definition of fun. Peace.
Another great is now on the “Night Shift.”
RIP Mr. Preston!
No, no, I haven’t ducked off to give birth and returned. Kelly suggested that we post our birth stories and I was game! Of course, I forgot today was the day until I read S23 today.
I used to keep a pregnancy journal on another site. So I did a little copying and pasting,here you have it. I wrote this on September 15, 2004 – one week after Lovegirl arrived. Although this birth story is pretty tame, if you’re at all squeamish – skip it!
Now that you’ve been properly warned . . . this is how Lovegirl made her debut:
Lovegirl was born on Wednesday, September 8, 2004 at 3:38 p.m. during what had to be one of the best labor/deliveries a girl could hope for. She weighed 8 pounds, 4 ounces and was 21 inches long.This is her birth story. It will probably get to be a little wordy, but I’ve got to make sure I get it all in. Enjoy.
We (Smoochy, my parents and I) arrived at the hospital for induction early Wednesday morning. Not exactly on time – but we made it. I think we were there around 5:40 as opposed to 5:30, but like my mother said – they couldn’t start without me!
I’d pre-registered, but still had to do a little paperwork and get various bracelets attached to my wrist. At about 6:15 a.m. we were in the labor room, I was given the oh-so-charming hospital gown, and we got the show on the road. I had an enema, and while it wasn’t the most pleasant experience of my young life, it wasn’t the horror that I’d been led to believe it would be. The nurse then made two attempts to start an IV in my left hand – those both blew, and the IV expert was called in. This lady got the IV started on the first try – on my right hand. Thank you God. Two bags were hung from the IV – pitocin and “volume.” My nurse’s name was Susie and she really was a dear – IV skills aside.
The doctor made it there at 7:45 or so, checked me, and told me that I was dilated to six! Six? I had not felt a thing. By then, I was on the monitor for contractions, and sure enough, I was having them regularly, they were strong, and I still felt nothing. As far as I was concerned, this labor stuff was not so bad. At 8:00, the pitocin drip was started and we waited.
Now, I’ve decided that all I can do is document my labor experience. I realize that labor, much like pregnancy, is different for each woman, and that what I experienced may or may not be all that common.
I felt nothing. Nothing at all. No pain, no discomfort, nada. In hindsight, as worried and reluctant as I was about being induced, I am now glad that I was. I probably would’ve gotten to 10, not felt a thing and delivered my baby girl in less than ideal surroundings.
So, the nurse is coming in regularly, and checking me and asking me if I want something for the pain. But, of course I don’t, because I don’t feel anything. I tell her that I’ll wait for the pain to start and then consider my pain relief options. By now, I’m around 8 cm and I remember looking at my mother and asking when the pains were going to start coming. I believe she called me a freak of nature!
At around 9 cm I started feeling discomfort – I still can’t describe the sensation as painful, because it wasn’t. I’d have Smoochy hold my hand, do some deep breathing, and then it was over. Next thing I knew, it was 3:15, the nurse told me that I was at 10, and that we were going to do a few practice pushes. The pushing didn’t come as naturally as I’d thought it would. Apparently I was using my stomach muscles and not the muscles one uses when having a BM. Not to mention the fact that she wanted me to curl up over my belly, hold my legs and push. What? Everything I’d seen on TV showed the lady using stirrups. I told her that the women on TV had stirrups, and I wanted stirrups too. Okay, not real smooth on my part, but hey – I got my stirrups. I pushed a few times and she told me to hold it. Next thing I know, the doctor is running in and getting ready for delivery. The whole thing was so surreal. I felt like I was an observer, and not a participant.
Anyhoo, I pushed for around 15 minutes, I heard a cry, the doctor said “it’s a girl,” and there you have it! Smoochy was awesome support during the whole thing. All I really required was a little hand holding and a totally quiet room. My parents basically dozed on the couch while I labored.
I was released from the hospital Friday afternoon, and since then we’ve pretty much been in the house. My mother is truly old school, and refuses to let me out before 6 weeks have passed. We took the baby in for her 2 day follow up on Sunday afternoon, she was a little jaundiced, and went back in today, where her bilirubin levels have dropped, but she’s still got some jaundice. Apparently, her levels are supposed to be 10 or below, today she was a little over 12. We’ve got her two week appointment next Wednesday, when I guess they’ll check her levels again. At her appointment today she weighed 8.11. My breast milk has most definitely come in, and she most definitely has the feeding thing under control.
So, there you are. We’ve got our baby girl, and couldn’t be more thrilled. Her first name (Lovegirl) is from the Kikuyu language (from Kenya I believe) and will probably be mispronounced for the rest of her life – sorry kid! It means “happy one.” Her middle name Simone is Hebrew and means “one who listens” – it is also from the singer Nina Simone whose work I enjoy. We’d been pondering a few different names, and just decided to see who we thought she might be when she arrived before deciding on a name.
Peace be with you and yours.
In my never-ending, but not-quite-sincere quest for physical fitness, I took my first spinning class Saturday morning. I loved it! Well, except for that awkward burning sensation in my groinal (yes, I made a word up) area. Every time the instructor said “now stand” I sent up a prayer of thanks to the heavens. I gave birth with no anesthesia – I have never, until Saturday experienced the “ring of fire.” Ouch! If I can toughen up my nether regions, I am sticking with this class. Any suggestions?
Lovegirl – you rock! How do you rock? Let me count the ways:
- You are so fierce in your one-piece bathing suit! How I didn’t buy you one last year, I’ll never know. Too cute. Really. We grown folks should be half as sassy and secure when parading around in a piece of lycra/spandex.
- Your vocabulary is amazing – and growing every day. I love – and I mean love – to hear you say “what happened?” The concern in your voice is so real. Even when you’re just trying to figure out where your favorite toy is. “What happened Mama? What happened?” So sincere. You crack me up when you count to ten – extra high-pitched emphasis on the number ten – and then you laud yourself “bery good!”
- You are unapologetically you. And that my dear is an awesome skill that far too many of us lose as we “grow up.” You don’t eat broccoli. Period. You will not humor my mother – your grandmother – and call her name. Not happening. You laugh each and every time I recite “Jack be Nimble.” Every time.
- You play hard.
- You love harder. Nothing in this world beats having you grab my face with both of your hands, staring directly into my eyes and saying “mmmm” while planting the sloppiest, sweetest kiss on my face.
- You are beautiful. Inside and out.
- You make me better. Or at least you make me strive to be better.
- You are more obsessed with your “nabel” than anyone has the right to be. It is so fun to watch you hunt for your navel – that buddha belly of yours just keeps getting in the way!
- You open up the world to me all over again. I am 33. I haven’t seen it all, but I’ve seen a lot. Everything is new to you, and getting to experience the world again through fresh, unprejudiced, innocent eyes is an awesome experience that we should all have at least once.
- You look better in afro-puffs than anyone. Yeah, sure, I’m prejudiced. But I’m your Mama, and that’s my right.
I could go on. And on. And on. But since your counting skills right now are limited to 1-10, so shall this list be.