1. Infested with lice.
2. Slang
a. mean or contemptible: That was a lousy thing to do.
b. wretchedly bad, miserable: a lousy job; I feel lousy.
As fond as I am of the word wretched, and thus find myself drooling over the word wretchedly - the title of this post is not referring to definition 2b above. It is, alas, a reference to the primary and origin of word definition, numero uno up top.
What's worse is this is not my first encounter with head critters in the past 6 months; this was round two. What's even worse is both times I have gotten them from Mila. My 19 month old baby has given me headlice twice. Repeat: my baby twice had lice this year. I just sighed and slumped as I wrote that sentence, definitely a sense of embarrassment - so of course I thought I'd share with you all.
At this moment I find myself desperately wanting to be like most that use these venues to post about their whereabouts, how much they love! everything!, pictures of what they are presently eating, or to peddle their wares. Instead I bring you my story of head bugs. I am a good mom. To combat the initial shame, these past few days have been a Stewart Smalley exercise in, "I'm good enough, I'm smart enough..."
I'm clean, my kid is clean, my house is not filthy (I don't want to lie, it would depend on your definition of clean), I have a good job, I'm a smart cookie, and I'm kinda good lookin. Ok, that last descriptor has nothing to do with this issue at hand, but let me have it. Point being, I don't know how this whole lice situation has happened, twice. "These things" generally happen to "those people," if you know what I mean. (Seriously, if you know what I mean, please tell me, because I don't know, it's just how I irrationally have felt). I also have the WORLDS BEST CHILDCARE PROVIDER, and she will soon have the mug and/or t-shirt to prove it. She mirrors all of the awing qualities I mentioned about myself above plus her house is actually legitimately clean. Yet still, here I sit, with a greasy head from oil treatments and the lingering aftertastes of guilt and humiliation.
The blame game began with a detailed account of people and places Mila has encountered in the past seven days; hell, I've even blamed it on the entire Northeast region because "this would never have happened in Texas."
The point of this post isn't about where it came from, it's about what I've learned, and perhaps a different perspective you can try to see next time you get a call from a mom that sounds like this: "Um, hi, this is Marcia, and I know Mila was around your child within the past week, I just wanted to let you know that she was recently treated for headlice. You need to check your son/daughter." Jesus, she isn't even two years old and I'm making phone calls that carry all of the stigma of gonorrhea. And if you're reading this post, you've probably seen how cute she is - Mila is no poster child for headlice or gonorrhea.
I've got a place, and it's got product that doesn't involve pesticides, that can resolve these types of situations within hours (for an astronomical fee). If you ever have a similar problem, please contact me and I'll fill you in on details. Don't judge me on this post, or do - in all fairness I've already judged you (what kind of person reads this s*^t blog anyway?)
Friday, July 8, 2011
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
PhD (pretty hard decisions)
I hope everyone is having a wonderful holiday season. It's hard to believe that I started this blog over a year and half ago ranting about my pregnancy woes and joking about birthing unicorns; now I have a real life 10 month old that has all those same magical and mystical powers, minus the horn and hoofs. Despite what many of you repeatedly told me over the longest 10 months of my life, I never believed that I would be sitting here again at my computer, functioning like a normal human being, and glowing about being a mother. On February 2, 2010, I was certain that for the next 18 years I was destined to be a frantic, anxious, unbearably unattractive, painfully tired and secretly resentful, pitiful woman. Yet here I be, a mere 305 days later, with a new normal and a surprising sense of ease.
As promised, I have not updated this blog with hugs and kisses recaps of my own personal baby story...I have waited until a volunteer came along to discuss the pre-baby horror that is pregnancy. A very good friend reached out to me recently to inform me that she has been feeling the tick of her biological cuckoo clock and isn't sure what to make of it. She has been toying with the idea of considering the possibility to begin thinking about having a tentative discussion with her husband about the status of her uterus. Needless to say, she is not at the point of making a decision today, but is looking to learn more. After following the blog during my pregnancy, she knew I would be honest in response to her inquiries about money, time, and life in general after baby. As a fan of the blog, a friend, and supporter of twisted humor, she has volunteered for us to further examine whether or not she is indeed ready to contemplate fertilization.
When doing a quick looksi lou online regarding pre-pregnancy considerations for this write-up, I found several quizzes, which contained questions like these: "Do you take a daily multivitamin?" "Do you keep a written record of your menstrual cycle?" and the obvious "Do you have a reproductive life plan?" He he he .. ...apparently I was grossly under qualified for pregnancy - perhaps this explains my overall experience? Duh, a reproductive life plan would have made my gestation period so much more comfortable.
So friends, lets take a look at 10 categories below that I’ve randomly deemed important and rate them on a scale of 1-10, with 1 being "sew it up" (her vagina) and 10 being "toss your pills tonight!" This will be the Lyssy Pre-Pregnancy Preparedness Predictor (LPPP).
LPPP (not to be confused with OPP, which she is in fact not down with)
Age: She is 30. I give her a 10/10 in this category. She had her 20’s, he had his 30's - grown up enough to deal with a child, still young enough to have fun. Of course they can have a baby these days at 65 if they'd like, and her being a scientist I'm sure she could make that happen. But ew.
Size/Build: My height, thin and in shape enough to make me bitterly jealous. She is strong like bull; her score is an 10/10.
Relationship: Married for 5+ years. Her husband is 9 years her senior. Score is a 10/10. Plenty of women have babies all by themselves. Plenty of same sex couples that are not afforded the "luxury" of marriage have babies.
Domestication rating: I'd give her at least a 5 of 10. I believe she tends towards my school of thought when it comes to cooking (I'm a 1 out of 10 for those of you that don't know), BUT she has acquired a recent profound interest in baking cupcakes (tick, tick, tick). Given the fact that I would score myself a 1, and above I indicated she was at first thought a 5 – compounded by the fact that my baby is still alive, her overall rating doubles to become 10/10 in this category as a predictor for pregnancy preparedness.
Pets: 3 dogs, which she adores more than most people do their kids. She loves her dogs; my dogs are unfortunately peripheral to me at this point. I'm sure some women do much better at maintaining that relationship with their pets - but thank goodness my husband is still so good and attentive with them. I score her a 4/10 here, this is a hard and sad transition (at least it was for me).
Housing: Suburban dream in a good school district. 10/10. Doesn't get much better than her digs. Sure, the mortgage is high and babies are expensive. But I live in a dump and our repair bills per year are outlandish, and yet our house never gets nicer. This week I have found a ziploc baggie, cheese curls package, hangers, a miller high life 40 ounce bottle and bathmat in my driveway. Yes, a bathmat. Luckily, the owners came to claim it (WTF???) In all fairness, the 40 could have been my husbands.
Hobbies: We played volleyball in college together - she has managed to keep it up, apparently is a runner now, and does something with a large group of people in the mud on occasion (what the hell were those photos on facebook by the way?) There isn't anything listed here that is life altering. If her hobbies were swinging and/or knife fighting there might be some issue. Volleyball and running can be resumed. Kids like mud. 10/10.
Occupation: Scientist. Really, like the cure cancer kind of scientist. The published, John Hopkins, breed of scientist. 5/10. I can take my work home, hell I can even fart around like I am right now in my very important "business" world - I don't think it works that way with beakers and test tubes. However, I'm pretty sure she wouldn't be the first scientist to have a baby, but it may slow research for the next big publication, or delay the cure for Alzheimer’s.
Stress Tolerance: High. A former division 1 athlete that graduated with honors, works in a highly competitive field, has stayed married for over 5 years. Nuff said. She is a cool cat, I’m pretty sure she could handle anything thrown her way, including baby poop. 10/10.
Comfort with the Unknown: Low. She is a scientist – she knows more than most of my other friends combined (no offense friends, she just really is a genius). This is the real issue: she isn’t sure she will like being a mom and is looking for me to offer advice. My friend, it is a leap of faith…and seeing as how neither of us are destiny/fate type gals - I know it seems incomprehensible to take this risk when the stakes are so very high. I will not lie- it would really suck to go through all the horrors of pregnancy and not like your baby. And I cannot promise you would like your baby. As a scientist, you could do a statistical regression based on data I could compile by conducting an engagement and satisfation survey of passerby new mothers – oh wait, that’s what a statistician would do. What would a scientist do? What Would Darwin Do? Do they have that bracelet for that yet? I guess you could try to find the answer in the Origin of Species or some might argue the Bible, but then you get your vagina involved in all these academic /spiritual discussions that it really doesn’t want or need to hear. I think you should treat your discussions about your vagina and its capabilities much like those discussions at office happy hour – stay off the subjects of religion and politics. I know, I digress, only to avoid the score here of 2/10. You’ll know when you’re ready, or you’ll get drunk and forget to take your pill. Either way, your current level of preparedness in this category is low.
The official LPPP score is 81. Good enough for me, yes – for a future Nobel prize winner, I’m not sure.
Love you girl, hope I made you laugh, you'll figure it out.
As promised, I have not updated this blog with hugs and kisses recaps of my own personal baby story...I have waited until a volunteer came along to discuss the pre-baby horror that is pregnancy. A very good friend reached out to me recently to inform me that she has been feeling the tick of her biological cuckoo clock and isn't sure what to make of it. She has been toying with the idea of considering the possibility to begin thinking about having a tentative discussion with her husband about the status of her uterus. Needless to say, she is not at the point of making a decision today, but is looking to learn more. After following the blog during my pregnancy, she knew I would be honest in response to her inquiries about money, time, and life in general after baby. As a fan of the blog, a friend, and supporter of twisted humor, she has volunteered for us to further examine whether or not she is indeed ready to contemplate fertilization.
When doing a quick looksi lou online regarding pre-pregnancy considerations for this write-up, I found several quizzes, which contained questions like these: "Do you take a daily multivitamin?" "Do you keep a written record of your menstrual cycle?" and the obvious "Do you have a reproductive life plan?" He he he .. ...apparently I was grossly under qualified for pregnancy - perhaps this explains my overall experience? Duh, a reproductive life plan would have made my gestation period so much more comfortable.
So friends, lets take a look at 10 categories below that I’ve randomly deemed important and rate them on a scale of 1-10, with 1 being "sew it up" (her vagina) and 10 being "toss your pills tonight!" This will be the Lyssy Pre-Pregnancy Preparedness Predictor (LPPP).
LPPP (not to be confused with OPP, which she is in fact not down with)
Age: She is 30. I give her a 10/10 in this category. She had her 20’s, he had his 30's - grown up enough to deal with a child, still young enough to have fun. Of course they can have a baby these days at 65 if they'd like, and her being a scientist I'm sure she could make that happen. But ew.
Size/Build: My height, thin and in shape enough to make me bitterly jealous. She is strong like bull; her score is an 10/10.
Relationship: Married for 5+ years. Her husband is 9 years her senior. Score is a 10/10. Plenty of women have babies all by themselves. Plenty of same sex couples that are not afforded the "luxury" of marriage have babies.
Domestication rating: I'd give her at least a 5 of 10. I believe she tends towards my school of thought when it comes to cooking (I'm a 1 out of 10 for those of you that don't know), BUT she has acquired a recent profound interest in baking cupcakes (tick, tick, tick). Given the fact that I would score myself a 1, and above I indicated she was at first thought a 5 – compounded by the fact that my baby is still alive, her overall rating doubles to become 10/10 in this category as a predictor for pregnancy preparedness.
Pets: 3 dogs, which she adores more than most people do their kids. She loves her dogs; my dogs are unfortunately peripheral to me at this point. I'm sure some women do much better at maintaining that relationship with their pets - but thank goodness my husband is still so good and attentive with them. I score her a 4/10 here, this is a hard and sad transition (at least it was for me).
Housing: Suburban dream in a good school district. 10/10. Doesn't get much better than her digs. Sure, the mortgage is high and babies are expensive. But I live in a dump and our repair bills per year are outlandish, and yet our house never gets nicer. This week I have found a ziploc baggie, cheese curls package, hangers, a miller high life 40 ounce bottle and bathmat in my driveway. Yes, a bathmat. Luckily, the owners came to claim it (WTF???) In all fairness, the 40 could have been my husbands.
Hobbies: We played volleyball in college together - she has managed to keep it up, apparently is a runner now, and does something with a large group of people in the mud on occasion (what the hell were those photos on facebook by the way?) There isn't anything listed here that is life altering. If her hobbies were swinging and/or knife fighting there might be some issue. Volleyball and running can be resumed. Kids like mud. 10/10.
Occupation: Scientist. Really, like the cure cancer kind of scientist. The published, John Hopkins, breed of scientist. 5/10. I can take my work home, hell I can even fart around like I am right now in my very important "business" world - I don't think it works that way with beakers and test tubes. However, I'm pretty sure she wouldn't be the first scientist to have a baby, but it may slow research for the next big publication, or delay the cure for Alzheimer’s.
Stress Tolerance: High. A former division 1 athlete that graduated with honors, works in a highly competitive field, has stayed married for over 5 years. Nuff said. She is a cool cat, I’m pretty sure she could handle anything thrown her way, including baby poop. 10/10.
Comfort with the Unknown: Low. She is a scientist – she knows more than most of my other friends combined (no offense friends, she just really is a genius). This is the real issue: she isn’t sure she will like being a mom and is looking for me to offer advice. My friend, it is a leap of faith…and seeing as how neither of us are destiny/fate type gals - I know it seems incomprehensible to take this risk when the stakes are so very high. I will not lie- it would really suck to go through all the horrors of pregnancy and not like your baby. And I cannot promise you would like your baby. As a scientist, you could do a statistical regression based on data I could compile by conducting an engagement and satisfation survey of passerby new mothers – oh wait, that’s what a statistician would do. What would a scientist do? What Would Darwin Do? Do they have that bracelet for that yet? I guess you could try to find the answer in the Origin of Species or some might argue the Bible, but then you get your vagina involved in all these academic /spiritual discussions that it really doesn’t want or need to hear. I think you should treat your discussions about your vagina and its capabilities much like those discussions at office happy hour – stay off the subjects of religion and politics. I know, I digress, only to avoid the score here of 2/10. You’ll know when you’re ready, or you’ll get drunk and forget to take your pill. Either way, your current level of preparedness in this category is low.
The official LPPP score is 81. Good enough for me, yes – for a future Nobel prize winner, I’m not sure.
Love you girl, hope I made you laugh, you'll figure it out.
Friday, July 9, 2010
Shark happens
Suprisingsly, on our first date night in months my husband tells me I'm a good writer and he enjoyed this blog during my pregnancy. I didn't even know he read it. Then he revealed that some of the stuff I said about him made him uncomfortable, but it was all true, so he never said anything about it. Readers may not know that Chris was a stand up comic for many years. So if you have previously read this blog and thought that perhaps I was too harsh on him, or maybe I was airing too much dirtly laundry, please keep in mind that I have sat in a room full of 100+ people, while he tells a joke that is wildly inappropriate about me (or us) and had everyone turn and look and laugh at me. And usually I would laugh along too - one thing Chris and I have in common is an appreciation for what is funny, regardless of the appropriateness of the joke. Needless to say I've given little thought to him being uncomfortable with strangers reading about my valid frustruations with him...if he can dish it out, he should be able to take it!
After the nice compliments about my writing style, humor and content, he let loose a "but..."
As soon as I heard the "but" I prepared myself to get angry, and that's when Chris nicely informed me that my blog had jumped the shark. For those of you not familiar with that term, please refer here. Of course, my initial gut reaction is to fire back, "I'd say your career jumped the shark," but I held my razor tongue and listened to his rationale.
I've let it marinate for a bit, and I must say I agree with him. This blog was created out of the pure hatred of pregnancy. Now I have a beautiful, wonderful, healthy baby girl - and while I have shared some rantings about the frustrations that accompany being a parent, the writing does stray from its original intent. I don't need a blog to write about the nuances of everyday family life. Plus, actually having the baby here is pretty cool, its the whole pregnant part that sucks.
Do not fear! I would like to keep this blog alive, with a return to its original programming -but I will need your help. I will be asking my friends/family - and maybe random preggers I see on the street (b/c they will love it, maybe I'll touch their bellies while I'm at it) to let me interveiw them about their worst pregnancy stories. I'll try to write about it in a way that will make you chuckle.
Any volunteers? If need be, we can keep the story anonymous - I get that some of you may not be as free as I am in sharing boob stories.
After the nice compliments about my writing style, humor and content, he let loose a "but..."
As soon as I heard the "but" I prepared myself to get angry, and that's when Chris nicely informed me that my blog had jumped the shark. For those of you not familiar with that term, please refer here. Of course, my initial gut reaction is to fire back, "I'd say your career jumped the shark," but I held my razor tongue and listened to his rationale.
I've let it marinate for a bit, and I must say I agree with him. This blog was created out of the pure hatred of pregnancy. Now I have a beautiful, wonderful, healthy baby girl - and while I have shared some rantings about the frustrations that accompany being a parent, the writing does stray from its original intent. I don't need a blog to write about the nuances of everyday family life. Plus, actually having the baby here is pretty cool, its the whole pregnant part that sucks.
Do not fear! I would like to keep this blog alive, with a return to its original programming -but I will need your help. I will be asking my friends/family - and maybe random preggers I see on the street (b/c they will love it, maybe I'll touch their bellies while I'm at it) to let me interveiw them about their worst pregnancy stories. I'll try to write about it in a way that will make you chuckle.
Any volunteers? If need be, we can keep the story anonymous - I get that some of you may not be as free as I am in sharing boob stories.
Friday, June 11, 2010
Rollercoaster of Love
Apparently I never had PMS before I got pregnant.
I thought I did, but evidently me thought wrong because the surge of emotions I felt for my first visit from Aunt Flo post baby was horrifying. I didn't connect the dots completely until I was driving home from the grocery store, with Mila in the back seat, and started to get inexplicable road rage. I was white knuckling the wheel and flipping the bird to anyone and everyone that would look at it. Wondering why I was so infuriated, I got home and saw on the counter my birth control pills with the row of whities being the only ones left. It was an ah ha moment, and I warned Chris that he should stay away from me for a few days - I wasn't in the mood for shenanigans. Did he listen? No. Is our screen door now broken? Yes. Later that night, I thought I was having contractions again - waking up in the middle of the night panicking that there was a late twin stuck in there or something. Apparently I had never really experienced cramps before either.
Is this the body I will be stuck with now? Once a month not only will I be sagging, drooping and scarred, but now I can look forward to crampy and cranky as well?
They say every pregnancy is different and every woman has a different experience, why does it have to be my experience both pre and post partum to be a raving lunatic? If you ask Chris he'll say it has nothing to do with the baby, but if you ask me I'll say Chris is an expletive. So looking forward to that row of pink pills!
I thought I did, but evidently me thought wrong because the surge of emotions I felt for my first visit from Aunt Flo post baby was horrifying. I didn't connect the dots completely until I was driving home from the grocery store, with Mila in the back seat, and started to get inexplicable road rage. I was white knuckling the wheel and flipping the bird to anyone and everyone that would look at it. Wondering why I was so infuriated, I got home and saw on the counter my birth control pills with the row of whities being the only ones left. It was an ah ha moment, and I warned Chris that he should stay away from me for a few days - I wasn't in the mood for shenanigans. Did he listen? No. Is our screen door now broken? Yes. Later that night, I thought I was having contractions again - waking up in the middle of the night panicking that there was a late twin stuck in there or something. Apparently I had never really experienced cramps before either.
Is this the body I will be stuck with now? Once a month not only will I be sagging, drooping and scarred, but now I can look forward to crampy and cranky as well?
They say every pregnancy is different and every woman has a different experience, why does it have to be my experience both pre and post partum to be a raving lunatic? If you ask Chris he'll say it has nothing to do with the baby, but if you ask me I'll say Chris is an expletive. So looking forward to that row of pink pills!
Saturday, May 8, 2010
She works hard for the money
Three weeks ago I started back to work full time. I had originally started writing this post prior to my return - I had several paragraphs of ranting on the archaic nature of our inflexible workforce, rampant sexism, reverse age discrimination, et cetera. I deleted those thoughts (although they were valid!!) and began anew below.
My first day back went something like this: cried leaving the house, yelled at Chris for not understanding why I was so upset, begrudgingly rode the train into the city, walked the half mile to work sniffling, stared teary eyed at my computer wondering where to begin, decided to look at photos of Mila online, Oops! time to go home. Thought that Chris would tell me how hard his day was staying at home with Mila... thought Mila would be hysterical from being at home with Chris all day. It was a piece of cake for him and when I scooped her up for kisses she couldn't stop looking at her daddy. Peas and carrots those two, I guess I should be grateful and not jealous.
-Unfortunately I think I lost some of my edge because I find myself not willing to risk it all everyday. I generally get a lot done because I'm willing to put it all on the line - you either love me or hate me. I'm finding myself holding my tongue more often, and yesterday I even said "considering the politics of the situation" - uh oh, I'm starting to dance for them! But they do pay me well and now I have more than myself to think about....this thought process in itself is humbling for me.
-The biggest change is that my fat ass has nothing to wear. Who knew the belly band would come in more use post delivery than while I was actually pregnant. I've lost too much weight to wear maternity clothes, but not enough to get back in my old clothes. You should see the gem of an outfit I have on today. Good times.
My first day back went something like this: cried leaving the house, yelled at Chris for not understanding why I was so upset, begrudgingly rode the train into the city, walked the half mile to work sniffling, stared teary eyed at my computer wondering where to begin, decided to look at photos of Mila online, Oops! time to go home. Thought that Chris would tell me how hard his day was staying at home with Mila... thought Mila would be hysterical from being at home with Chris all day. It was a piece of cake for him and when I scooped her up for kisses she couldn't stop looking at her daddy. Peas and carrots those two, I guess I should be grateful and not jealous.
Days 2, 3, 4...15 have pretty much gone the same way, with a tad more work getting done each day - but I still take the time to look at my baby girl photos over and over again. Now the harsh reality of being 4 months behind on 3 projects is setting in, and I have a mild panic attack around 2PM everyday.
Some ways my work life has changed since becoming a mom:
-I find my arch Nemesis amusing rather than infuriating (at least for the time being)
-I think I've been inducted into a secret club that I never knew existed. Its very strange - but nice- to get approving glances from female colleagues as if only now am I truly an adult.
-While presenting at a board meeting recently, I was asked to show photos....I smell leverage!-Unfortunately I think I lost some of my edge because I find myself not willing to risk it all everyday. I generally get a lot done because I'm willing to put it all on the line - you either love me or hate me. I'm finding myself holding my tongue more often, and yesterday I even said "considering the politics of the situation" - uh oh, I'm starting to dance for them! But they do pay me well and now I have more than myself to think about....this thought process in itself is humbling for me.
-The biggest change is that my fat ass has nothing to wear. Who knew the belly band would come in more use post delivery than while I was actually pregnant. I've lost too much weight to wear maternity clothes, but not enough to get back in my old clothes. You should see the gem of an outfit I have on today. Good times.
Friday, April 23, 2010
a mom and a baby walk into a liquor store... (insert your own punchline here)
Well, the baby technically wasn't walking, she was being carried in her car seat.
Is it bad that Mila is only 4 months old and I already have 2 funny liquor store stories??
One involves a $6.99 sale on Yellow Tail and the other a broken bottle of tea vodka and a disapproving security guard. I won't go into the details, I'm sure most of the people reading this with kids have their own babies n' booze stories. For those of you that don't, kudos on your sobriety.
Is it bad that Mila is only 4 months old and I already have 2 funny liquor store stories??
One involves a $6.99 sale on Yellow Tail and the other a broken bottle of tea vodka and a disapproving security guard. I won't go into the details, I'm sure most of the people reading this with kids have their own babies n' booze stories. For those of you that don't, kudos on your sobriety.
Monday, April 19, 2010
Exercising Demons
Just in case anyone was snickering at my misuse of "exorcising" in my previous post, I agree, what a dope! In retrospect, I think my mistake may have actually been a more accurate assessment of what happened.
Exorcising demons refers to the ritual process by which indwelling evil spirits, or demons, are compelled to leave a person's body. In my case, exercising demons just means they got a good workout, were very active for a while, and are now at rest!
I would never want to exorcise my demons, what a bore! Besides, I might need to call upon them again in the future - I'm good at the "taking names," but "kicking ass" is really their area of expertise.
Exorcising demons refers to the ritual process by which indwelling evil spirits, or demons, are compelled to leave a person's body. In my case, exercising demons just means they got a good workout, were very active for a while, and are now at rest!
I would never want to exorcise my demons, what a bore! Besides, I might need to call upon them again in the future - I'm good at the "taking names," but "kicking ass" is really their area of expertise.
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