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I will love ya forevah.

Anna is now the daycare queen.

My little one arrived at daycare bright and early this morning. Mom is fine.

(I think.)

Someone is going to be terribly disappointed.

One man's trash is another man's treasure, right? That is, unless the trash smells like trash.

My cat Harley recently suffered from a UTI (urinary tract infection). Prior to getting her on some medication, she left a little piss present in my polka dot suitcase. I left it open on the ground after returning from a trip, and she took it upon herself to use it as a litter box. Yes, that's totally disgusting, but such is life when you own a pet. Cats are devious little suckers who like to do things like this to get your attention. Needless to say, she got my attention - one trip to the vet's office for some meds, and Harley is doing just fine.

My suitcase, on the other hand, is not.

It was kicked to the curb and left for the trash man to deal with. It's such a shame seeing as it was only used a handful of times and was in excellent condition. Wanting to avoid having all of my clothing smell like cat pee, I had no other choice but to throw it out.

I walked out to the car this morning and noticed that someone had taken the pissy suitcase off of our hands. I can just see how it all unfolded...

"Wow, look at that precious suitcase just sitting by the curb for the trash. I think I'll take it!"

5 minutes later.

"What is that smell?"

10 minutes later.

.. (person is passed out on the seat from the noxious cat piss odor)

Poor guy/girl. I hope they're not too terribly disappointed that their dumpster dive turned out to be a dud.

Daycare.

Tomorrow marks the start of Anna’s daycare career, and I can’t say I’m too excited or happy about it. The only consolation is that she’ll be within walking distance to my work, so I’ll be at peace knowing she’s so close by. We’ve been very blessed/lucky thus far that she’s been so healthy – we haven’t had one day of sickness since she came home from the hospital (she’s over 6 months old now). Now I need to knock on some major wood and brace myself b/c I have a feeling that the daycare germs are soon to invade. Oy!

Lord, grant me the strength to deal with this!

Screwy.

I know that my blog pics look screwy right now.  If anyone happens to stumble upon this blog before I fix everything, don’t panic.  Please, don’t.  It’s 1:46 a.m. right now, and I’m much too tired to figure this out.  Hopefully I’ll have some time tomorrow to play around more and make this place my new home.  Stay tuned.

Who Wants a Pork Chop?

The back story...

I don't eat pork chops. So, what's with the blog name? My life, to be quite honest, is comedic. The random stuff that happens to me on a monthly, daily, hell, hourly basis is definitely blog-worthy. Or maybe I'm the only one who thinks so?

So, what's with the obsession with pork chops? Please keep reading.

To help you better understand my story, here's a little picture of the front door of my house.





This picture was taken before we moved in - the yellow and white papers on the door are not eviction notices, I promise. As you can see, the main section of the door is glass, so if anyone wanted to rob us blind, all they'd have to do is take a peek to see our goods. Once inside, they'd be disappointed to find that the only valuable thing we own is a broken camera and a Simple Human trash can.

On with it. God, I totally ramble. You will get used to this.

So, one night my husband (Joe) and I were sitting on the couch watching the tele. This is what boring people like us do every night. Halfway through whatever brainless program we were watching - probably a DVRd episode of Springer - I decided that I was thirsty and much too lazy to get up and fix myself a glass of tea. So, I lovingly asked my dear husband to fix me a drink. He just sat there and pretended he didn't hear me, much like he usually does. To sweeten the pot, I figured I'd give him a little flash of the ta-ta. What man can resist a boob the size of a small grape? Hell, a raisin? My man can't!

I called his name, and when he turned to look at me, I began the ta-ta flash process. Shirt was up, ta-ta was exposed, doorbell rings. Ding Dong. Here's the problem. You see my door. We had on the living room light and it was dark outside, no porch lights were on. The doorbell rang at the exact moment that my shirt was in mid-air. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that whomever was on the other side of that door got to see the goods. It was Mardi Gras 1998 all over again.

I kid, I kid.

Being the brave woman I am, I ran as quickly as I could to my bedroom to hide. Nothing like making it even more obvious, eh? Joe answers the door. It's our neighbor, and he's come bearing gifts. Er, a gift. Just one gift. That gift was a...

...

...

porkchop.

Just one porkchop. Not two. Just one. He came all the way over to our house to bring US (meaning Joe and me) ONE porkchop. We had never really even spoken to this man before and he randomly comes over to bring dinner for one person when he knows there are two people living in the house? That, my friends, was the most hilarious part of all. He got to see my boobs and all I got was a lousy pork chop that I didn't even get to eat because Joe woofed it down before I came out from hiding.

Niiice.

My friends have never let me live this down. They chose this blog name for me, and I hope to do them proud.

The contents of this blog will be random musings about my life, love, family, health, etc. There will be no structure here, so if you like a structured, predictable blog, leave.

Just kidding...sorta.

Here are a few of the topics up for discussion here (although ANYTHING and EVERYTHING goes):

My precious baby girl Anna.





My marriage.





My wonderful family.



My dog Cosmo.



My cat Harley.



My cat Chloe.



My sick obsession with American Idol and most reality television.



One Pork chop.


Until we meet again.

My birth story.

So, around 4:15 a.m. I was in dream world. What's funny is I was actually dreaming about my very closest friends. As I recall, I was dreaming that they hosted a GTG and didn't invite me b/c I was pregnant. It was this little secret GTG that they all planned. I remember feeling hurt about it and then, WHAM, major cramp and a release of...something. I thought, "What the feck, was that my water?!" I jumped out of bed and shouted, "Joe, I think my water just broke!" I had to say it twice b/c the mofo sleeps more soundly than anyone I've ever known. He immediately jumps up and says, "What are you serious?!" I figured the leaking water from in between my legs was proof enough that I was 100% serious. I soaked through two towels just in a few minutes, so there was really no mistaking it. Let's just say that I'm SO glad I wasn't at work as I'd have to quit my job and hide away forever from the embarrassment!

 

 

 

 

 

 

So, in true Joe/Natalie form, we're scrambling around the house. My bags were not packed. I have NO idea what my Drs. phone number is. I'm looking through the phone book, Joe is looking through the phone book. We can't find her damn number anywhere. I'm mad at myself for being so unprepared and scatter-brained. He finally remembered my appointment card in my car, so he went outside to get it so we could get the phone number off of the back of it. When I called the answering service I mis-dialed about 5 times.  I finally got a hold of someone and told her what happened. She said, "Well, congrats, looks like you're going to have a baby today! Head on over to L&D now!"

So, here we are right before we leave the house - one last belly pic:

 

We finally get to the hospital around 5'ish or so and head to the ER to check in. What's fortunate is we took a hospital tour the week before, so all of my pre-registration paperwork had already been completed. While we were heading inside, my contrax started kicking up a notch. Fun, fun, fun.


Note how happy I was at this point (this all changes later).

After checking in, I'm wheeled up to the L&D floor in a triage type unit. They informed me that every single room in L&D was full and that I JUST got the last room there. What was even better was that the room I was given was the biggest room on the entire floor, total luxury suite. Had I arrived any later, I would've had to labor in the triage room with other women who were there for various reasons (non-stress tests, problems with their pregnancy). How miserable!

Here I am getting hooked up to monitors to make sure I'm ready to go. The nurse who examined me said my bag of water was, "Grossly ruptured" and that my cervix was "Neat as all hell!" She had a RN in training give me an internal just so she could feel how softened my cervix was. I was about 90% effaced at this point but still at about 1.5 cm.

(I just realized that I look a tad bit polygamist in this picture with my Pentecostal looking hair) .

After being molested by every RN on the floor, they finally decided to take me to my room. My contrax were starting to intensify a bit by this point, so having my hoo ha inspected by every nurse available was starting to lose its appeal. The room they put me in was like a 4 star suite - totally gorgeous and HUGE.

Joe's parents arrived at the hospital shortly after I was admitted. They came into my room as soon as I got setup. Here's a picture of them walking in smack dab in the middle of a contraction. Notice my fake happy expression. Yeah, hell on earth to try to be happy when you feel like your innards are being squeezed by the Jolly Green Giant.

Natalie in between contractions:

Natalie in the midst of a contraction:

Finally after 4 or 5 hours of that painful feeling, I begged for an epi. Let me tell you that I've never experienced that significant level of pain, well, ever. Imagine the worst diarrhea cramps and the worst period cramps you've ever experienced and then multiply it times 100. I'm not being dramatic either. How people go their entire labor without pain meds is beyond my comprehension. I would rather pluck out my own eye than feel that again.

What's worse is that I had an audience the entire time I was in pain. Joe and his family were in the room the entire time, so I had to finally speak up for myself and ask them to leave. I believe it went something like this...

"Would you all mind stepping out for a moment? I'm about to start cussing, and I don't want you guys to hear it."

They left after that.

Oh, I forgot to mention that I'd had Taco Bell the night before. A huge Nachos Belle Grande with jalapenos. This meal had not re-surfaced at that point, so I had wonderful visions of pooping myself on the delivery table. However, my body knew what needed to be done and it helped me out prior to delivery. Poor Joe was standing there holding my saline bags while I was using the bathroom. I realized at that point that this is what marriage is all about - having a man who loves you enough to hold your saline bags while you take a poop.

Anywho...

So, my contrax were so bad that I was starting to get nauseous. I felt as though I was going to vomit at that point. Right before I was on the verge of losing what was left of my Taco Bell, my savior walked in - the epi man.

I love him. He is my best friend.

Of course I had about 3 contractions the entire time I was getting stuck with the epi needle. Keeping still and not saying every curse word in the book was really a challenge for me, but I managed.

Here I am about 10 minutes after the epi was in:

I was examined at that point and found out that I dilated nearly to 5 cm on my own within a few hours time span. No wonder I was wishing death upon myself. Holy crap!

After the epi was administered it was basically a waiting game. My wonderful nurse would check me every hour or so and I'd consistently dilate each time. Just to speed things up even more, they gave me a very low dose of Pitocin. This was ordered my the Dr. on call. I forgot to mention that my OB was out of town. Of course she was. Oh, and the Dr. on call was a man. I've never been to a male doctor...ever. I was freaking out about it, but after meeting him it was all good. The man was frindiggin awesome, like someone I'd want to hang out with awesome. I think he's gay, so I didn't feel the dirty old man factor. Plus, he's hilarious as all feck. I was glad it worked out for him to be there.

After the pit was administered, I went from 5 cm to 9 cm in just a few hours. I had a tiny bit of my cervix left at that point, but the pressure was tremendous because Anna had dropped down very low. The nurses were all freaked out about how quickly my labor had progressed, so they started bringing in the sterile table and setting up the stirrups.

Here I am after realizing that my legs had to go into those stirrups.

Homeslice can't even bend down without pulling a ligament, how the feck am I going to contort my swollen legs to fit into those things. Oh yeah, I had an epi. I was like gumby. I could've performed as one of those pretzel people in the Cirque Du Soleil if I'da felt like it. It's all good.

At this point I was starting to shake b/c I realized I was about to birth a child. Holy crap! It's really happening! Everyone was running around the room all excited, my mom was praying over me, the nurses were calling the Dr. and asking Joe to watch the parking lot for his car. It all happened so quickly.

The Dr. finally arrives and has me do some test run pushes. I nearly pushed her out at that point, so he wanted me to slow down. He was doing all sorts of odd things with my hoo ha (this is the medical term he kept using, I kid you not). Then he informed me that there was no way she was going to come out w/o tearing me. He also said that I have a very small pelvis and it's quite miraculous and perfect that she came 3 weeks early 'cause there's no way she would've fit three weeks from now. It's truly amazing that my body just knew what it needed to do.

Here's the Dr. getting everything ready

So, we started doing more pushes and after about 3 sets of 3 pushes she came into this world. Anna Kate was born at 3:45 on 10-10 weighing in at 6.6 1/2 oz. and 18.5 inches. She's a tiny little thing, but she's so beautiful and wonderful.

Here are some pics of Anna: