it’s the new nice

Gas prices are outrageous. That’s pretty much what it is everywhere. Here in my neck of the woods the price is about $4.15-$4.20/gallon so when an independent station is selling gas at less than $4/gallon this past week everyone in the area is going to be lining up to fill up.

I’m there.

Of course there was a long line…and a long wait.

It is what it is…right?

Finally it is my turn. I pull up and start to fill my tank. The car ahead of me finishes up and drives off. Now the big Dodge Ram truck behind me could have tried to squeeze past me to take that open spot. After all, he was waiting in line just as long as I was. But he didn’t. The dude could wait just a little longer to fill his ginormous pick-up I guess.

But the lady in the little grey sports car couldn’t. She starts to pull in front of me facing me then slowly backs out as I look up at her. She waits. What she is waiting for I’m not sure since she is facing the wrong way in this pump line. She waits a little while longer then, just as I finish up filling my tank, she pulls in with her front bumper practically kissing my front bumper. As she gets out of her car she glances up at me and announces, “I was being nice waiting.

“Really? You’re being nice cutting in front of all these other cars waiting in line? You’re being nice blocking me in? Really?”

“You don’t have to be a bitch about it!”

That’s me…I’m the bitch. Line-jumping is the new nice and this lovely lady is the nicest one of all. Of course when one person is “nice” like that others will follow suit…notice the car behind her.

Stay classy Manteca!

a dummies guide to prodromal labor

“Has Holly had the baby yet?”

In a word, “NO!”

If Holly were to tell you herself it might be something like, No, damn it! Does it LOOK like I had the baby yet?!” She would likely be stabbing you in the face with daggers shooting from her eyes as she says it too. But who could blame her, really?  She has been dealing with strong, painful contractions every 3 to 9 minutes apart since LAST Sunday. The results of this labor is she is now 3 centimeters dilated and 100% effaced but at 38 weeks and 4 days, her midwife and the hospital where she is delivering will not consider induction as they are following the ACOG and AAP recommendations of no elective inductions or c-sections before 39 weeks. So she must labor on still.

I know, I know….you or your Aunt Martha or a friend of friend knows someone who was induced at 35, 36, 37, 38 weeks and everything was JUST FINE. I delivered three of my babies at 37 weeks, 36 weeks and 38 weeks and everything was just fine for them too…well except for the one who had hyperbilirubinemia and although treated at home with a bili-blanket did have to have daily lab draws for a week…oh and the one who had temperature instability issues for the first day of life and feeding difficulty issues for the first week which led to her mommy having bilateral mastitis that was so painful I couldn’t even pick up the 7+ pound baby for several days…yeah, except for those everything was just fine! Holly delivered Hazel at 38 weeks and her baby girl was 8lbs 4oz of awesome, wonderful-ness. Most cases, yes, everything is just fine. Still the times are a-changing. In the maternal-child field of practice we are learning so much more about the consequences of allowing late preterm or near term babies to be induced and delivered and so most practitioners are re-thinking this and following the recommended guidelines because it is a good practice and many insurance companies will not pay them if they don’t. It’s all good.

Still it doesn’t help Holly and her laboring for a little over a week now.

I know everyone wants to help…encourage…share…OVER-share all because they care but really, trust me, it ain’t helping. Sure she smiles and thanks you but then she turns to me and vents all kinds of crazy end-of-pregnancy hormones on me about the unsolicited advice, support, stories, remedies that are offered to her. So as a public service to everyone…and so she’ll stop dousing me with that evil, raging hormone rage that is triggered by all of the well-meaning encouragement, support, advice and stories I want to pass on a guide for everyone who is sharing the same air space with a 9+ months pregnant woman who has been contracting every 3-9 minutes for the last ten days:

1. Don’t ask her if she has tried:

  • castor oil
  • blue cohosh or black cohosh
  • raspberry leaf tea
  • spicy food
  • the labor-inducing salad…soup…pizza…mocktail served at some local restaurant
  • walking
  • having sex
  • bouncing on a stability ball
  • dancing
  • anything else that has “worked for” you…your cousin’s friend of a friend…Aunt Martha…the lady down the street…whomever!

2. Don’t lecture the poor, exhausted woman that the baby will come when the baby is ready.

3. Don’t remind her that it isn’t even her due date yet…especially when she has been laboring for the last ten days and the Estimated Date of Delivery is not for another ten days. Would you like to be contracting every 3-9 minutes for another ten days? I know I wouldn’t.

4. Bring over a meal…lunch…dinner so she can maybe try to rest more in between those contractions.

5. Offer to go for a walk with her or take her rambunctious 3 year old for a walk to the playground so she can get a break from her exhausted, crabby, laboring mommy.

6. Give her a nice foot massage and pedicure and don’t judge her if her legs aren’t shaved.

7. Bring over a fun movie and some light snacks and share a good laugh with her while she bounces on that stability ball of hers.

8. Keep your laboring war stories…your kid’s teacher’s friend…the lady who works behind the counter at the local drugstore…your Aunt Martha’s to yourself. You can share them AFTER she has the baby.

9. When you call, text, Facebook, communicate with her don’t make your first question be something along the lines, “Have you had the baby yet?”… “Has your water broke?”…”Have you lost your mucous plug?”… Do ask her how she is feeling…Tell her you are thinking about her.

10. Most of all, tread lightly, be sensitive, imagine how you would feel if you were contracting every 3-9 minutes for the last ten days…or try to remember how you DID feel if you did back in the day…or how Aunt Martha felt back in the day.

This is a public service message brought to you by the mother of the prodromal laboring, pregnancy hormone-raging woman who has indeed been contracting every 3-9 minutes for the last ten days.

You are welcome!

because I get mean when I am hungry

Saw this posted on a friend’s Facebook today along with her comment, “Amen!”

Seriously? I’d like to meet this college student. Where does he attend college? Fairyland University? This is not reality.

Reality is that people ARE working their asses off. People are BEGGING for the opportunity to work their asses off. People are unemployed and underemployed not for weeks or months but for YEARS! People are lining up by the hundreds in lines that wrap around blocks for the opportunity to be hired for only a dozen or so minimum wage jobs. People are selling their cars, their wedding rings and emptying out their life savings just to pay for food, housing and utilities. People are losing their homes. People are out of milk and bread with literally only a dime to their name and no promise of income coming anytime soon.

The problem isn’t that people aren’t willing to work hard – this country is full of great, smart, energetic people. The problem comes when the deck is so stacked against them that, no matter HOW smart, frugal and hard-working they are, they get kicked down to the point they can’t get up again.

That is reality. That is the reality for so many people in this country. That is my reality.

doing the electric slide

You know those times when you feel like you just can’t get ahead no matter how hard you try? It’s exhausting isn’t it? One step forward, two steps back over and over and over again. All you want is a chance to maybe advance two or three steps forward for once…just once.  You shake your fists at the universe in frustration because all you want is just a freakin’ break.

Then you sigh in resignation and start to make dinner.

Suddenly, it’s there!

A message from up above!

A sign!

Could it be?!

How awesome!

Thank you universe!

Have I ever told you how much I hate the Electric Slide?

I do.

I’d rather be coloring rainbows

Is Mercury in retrograde or something because it sure does feel like it is. I know it isn’t the moon because last night it glowed orange in its first quarter phase over the Big Top. But regardless of the who, what, how or why, I find myself in a flux of sorts where I can’t even seem to juggle in my usual way that I do. There’s too much to worry over…too much to stress about…too much to argue about…too much snark around me…

Ugh!

I wake up today and find myself pondering over such pissy, trivial things like why is the Mickey Mouse Clubhouse “map” song even lamer than Dora’s – why must the “Mean Girls” grow up into “Mommy-er than thou” heinous bitches – why my daughter’s high school guidance counselor would suggest to my #4 daughter that in order to help expand her world view and thus build up her chances of getting into one of the East Coast/NYC schools that she is interested in she should volunteer for the local Tea Party – why grown-assed men and women in their late 30s and 40s insist on throwing down gangster signs in every. single. picture. that they post on their Facebook – and so on and so forth…lather rinse and repeat.

Then I shake myself out of this slump and ask why is this shit so important to me? There is certain to be an even more annoying preschool song that Hazel or her baby sister on the way will share with me. There will always be heinous, “Mommy-er than thou” bitches. They haven’t changed not one bit since Holly was a little girl except for the fact that they have social media and blogs where they can build themselves up as the most excellent mothers they think they are by tearing down any parent out there who isn’t exactly like them. My daughter’s guidance counselor is just as obtuse as she was when she was Holly’s counselor…and Zoë’s counselor…and Abby’s as well. I can only hope that she will have retired by the time Daniel is in high school. The grown ups that insist on throwing down gang-like signs in the pictures they post online…well, I just don’t have anything to say about that. Not. At. All. I don’t have much that is nice to say really at the moment about all that is irritating and annoying me today.

In all honesty I don’t even want to give another thought to all the garbage out there that is so irritating to me right now.

In fact, I think I would much rather be coloring rainbows.

It’s so much nicer to be coloring rainbows.

It is. It is especially more wonderful when you are coloring rainbows with Hazel. Yes, I am that lucky, aren’t I?