So, we have a situation.

Our oldest cat, Annie's health is declining. It's not a surprise considering she is about 16 years old, but the fact that she lives in our bedroom, makes everything more complicated.

The first problem-
Annie eats only wet food, for several reasons, but mostly because her teeth have decayed, and the vet isn't comfortable putting her under anesthesia to clean her teeth at her age. I have come to terms with the fact that my bedroom occasionally smells like a fish market, but now there is another food related issue. In the past few months, Annie has become a SUPER sloppy eater. I'm not sure I can adequately express to you how sloppy. The entire wall that her food bowl sits against has cat food particles ALL OVER IT. SO does the floor. And the bed skirt. AND, if you walk to the other side of the room, you will find cat food particles on the wall there too, because apparently Annie has made a habit of walking around with a mouth full of food and then shaking her head (this is our guess, anyway). If any of you have elderly parents or grandparents, you will totally get what I'm saying. It's like life comes full circle- you need a bib at the beginning AND the end of life.

So, now my bedroom is coated with cat food particles, and kitty litter, which brings me to the next problem-

I can not say enough negative things about having a kitty litter in my bedroom. The smells (WHAT THE HELL IS IN THAT CAT FOOD?), the litter everywhere (including ON MY BED), and the scratching that wakes me in the middle of the night- all suck, but not as much as Annie's other fun new problem-
Um, how do I say this? She's less AWARE of her ass these days. Like, on an almost daily basis I find a turd somewhere in our bedroom. Sometimes ON MY PILLOW. Let me tell you, there is nothing better than coming to bed EXHAUSTED only to find a turd on your pillow. And sometimes there are skid marks (gags). I'm not sure if it's a loss of bowl control, or a grooming issue, but we were already having to contend with a lot of vomit (Annie has always been a "vomiter"), and now there is bonus poop.

So for those keeping score, our bedroom is pretty much covered in cat food, kitty litter, poop and vomit. Anyone up for a sleepover?

The newest problem is that Annie sleeps on the edge of the bed, actually sometimes half on the bed, half on my husband's night stand, because cats are WEIRD. Anyway, I was kind of liking this situation because Annie used to sleep on my head every night. But, now- and I swear I am not making this up- she keeps falling off the bed in the middle of the night. REPEATEDLY. Last night it happened FIVE TIMES. I'm assuming she just falls deeply asleep and then the next thing you know she is on the floor, but she doesn't do it quietly, oh no, that would be too much to ask. She often takes items on the nightstand with her- last night it was the baby monitor. There are a lot of nails clinging to the sheets and blankets, which often leads to her hanging off the bed by one nail- which means I have to wake up and try to untangle her, which is a fun festival because she it hissing and trying to attack me the whole time. She can't figure out that she just needs to retract her claw- even after having this happen eleventy billion times.

So between eating as though she is using a chainsaw as a fork, scratching in the kitty litter for 20 minutes at a time- only to fill the room with an aroma that burns my nostril hair, leaving turd presents everywhere, vomiting under (or on!) my bed, and falling off the bed, I am getting virtually no sleep. And when I get out of bed in the middle of the night to pee, or perhaps to untangle a certain cat, I pray that I don't step on anything wet or squishy.

*I am not looking for advice. I just needed to vent. If you leave a comment about how I should "just get rid of her" or "put her to sleep" I will probably not publish it.

Posted by torrie at 02:14 PM | Permalink | Comments (14)

On Christmas day we were trying to kill some time with our kid, because everything is closed on Christmas day, which drives me up the wall. You want to spend time with your loved ones? Well, I need some freaking bananas.
So, we took the kid to a small pier in our town.
During the warmer months we went there often.
There is a staircase that leads down to a small beach area, which disappears during high tide.
Willa loves to collect sea shells on the beach.
As we are getting out of the car I see something on the top of the staircase and I assume it is a large piece of driftwood. As we get closer I realize it is a dead animal. A rather large dead animal. It is on its back with its head hanging over the top step. It had a lot of large teeth, and it didn't appear to have any hair. It was obviously a chupacabra.
I wanted to take a picture of it, but we didn't want Willa to see it.
We drove to the police station in town. We walked in and there were several officers standing there.
I said "I just wanted to let you know that there is a rather large dead animal on the pier."
To which officer numbnuts replied "Oh, you mean the one with no hair? Yeah, that things been washing back and forth for a while now."
So in other words, there is a large, dead, possibly diseased animal on the town pier WHERE CHILDREN PLAY, and the police have known about it for several days. and have done nothing about it.
They are probably some of the highest payed police officers in the country. Heaven forbid they, you know, DO THEIR JOB.

Anyway, on a completely different note-
The next day we went to my cousin's house.
Willa REFUSED to nap that day, so we thought it was going to be a disaster.
My cousin has two kids- a daughter who is ten months older than Willa, and a son who is three months old.
Willa actually played with my cousin's daughter. That was the first time she really played with another kid, and it was AWESOME. They were running around chasing each other, and Willa was having so much fun that she was squealing in delight. It was one of those amazing parenting moments.
I've been having a lot of those lately.

On Saturday my oldest friend and her husband came over with their dog.
Again, Willa refused to take a nap. Again, I thought it was going to be a disaster, but she had so much fun. Let me just say that if my kid stops napping WE ARE GOING TO HAVE A BIG PROBLEM.

Yesterday I went to Woodbury Commons with Heather and Metalia. If you really want to be intimidated, go shopping with two of the most stylish people on the internet. Heather took video. If she posts it I'll link to it, but God, I hope she doesn't. Because if there's one thing I hate, it's seeing myself on video.
Of course Willa took a nice long nap while I was gone. (OF COURSE)
Last night an old friend from Boston and his wife came over, and we forced them to watch Mary Poppins, and read Bad News Hughes.

Life is good.

Posted by torrie at 01:41 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

Let's recap, shall we?

My kid is just getting over the stomach flu she's had since Sunday night/Monday morning.
My husband came home from work early yesterday with fever, chills, and a splitting headache. It was so bad- he was writhing around in pain- that I thought his head was going to split open and scorpions were going to crawl out.
My husband's work holiday party was last night. We, of course, did not go.
I woke up this morning with Willa's stomach flu.
My back is still out.
I had to cancel my first personal training session at the Y today, for obvious reasons.
My garage door broke yesterday.
My mother is here helping out.
Except that Willa is in the midst of a mommy phase. I must be in her sight at all times, otherwise there is much whining and screaming. So, even though my mom is here, while I'm laying in bed trying to keep the contents of my stomach inside of me, there is a toddler slamming on my bedroom door.
Also, Willa is going stir crazy because she hasn't been out much since Sunday, but my mom can't drive, and Willa can't be outside for that long because she hasn't taken her medication because of her stomach flu.

Would anyone like to slash my tires, or punch me in the face while we're at it?

Posted by torrie at 12:22 PM | Permalink | Comments (10)

So, this morning I went to get Willa out of her crib, and the minute I opened her door I knew something was off. There was something weird in her crib. From afar it looked like maybe the stuffing from one of her toys had come out. Upon closer inspection I realized that it was vomit. Willa and all of her crib toys were covered in vomit. And, it was not fresh, which means that she vomited sometime in the middle of the night, went back to sleep and then rolled around in it.

Last night, I took a muscle relaxant because I threw my back out. I regret that decision now, because it obviously kept me from hearing my daughter vomiting in the middle of the night.

So there I was- in so much pain I couldn't stand upright, coughing up green mucus from a lingering sinus infection, with a sick child covered in vomit. I had no idea how I was going to lift the crib mattress to change the sheet.
So, I grabbed the phone and called my husband who had left for work about 15 minutes before. Amazingly, he turned around and came home.
He took care of all of the vomit stuff and threw everything in the laundry.
Then he realized that standing upright is probably important when taking care of a toddler, especially one who is vomiting, so he called work and told them he wasn't coming in.

A little while latter Willa walked over to the bathroom and started pointing to the cabinet where we keep the medicine, as if she was asking for some medicine- and then she projectile vomited.

She ate nothing but a bite of a pretzel all day. She drank some milk, but then she vomited it up on my living room carpet. She also had some rather unsettling poops, which I'd rather not talk about.

I spent the day wincing in pain and laying around while my husband did everything, including steam clean the carpet.

I am PRAYING that this is just a 24 hour stomach virus, and that Willa will wake up tomorrow NOT covered in vomit.

I honestly don't know what I would have done if my husband hadn't been home. My guess is, I would have been laying on the floor in the fetal position while my kid repeatedly hit me in the head with a book, and occasionally paused to vomit on me.*

How do single parents do it???

*Wow. I use the word VOMIT a lot in this post.

Posted by torrie at 07:20 PM | Permalink | Comments (15)

Last Saturday (the 18th) I woke up feeling crappy, but that's nothing new these days. I had plans to meet my friend Cass and I really didn't want to break them, so I went anyway. I sat across for her and tried to drink my tea, but I just felt worse and worse. Finally Cass, who had been watching me turn green, suggested we get together another time and I go home and rest. Within a half an hour of getting home I was puking up everything I had ever eaten, ever. I spent the rest of the weekend- the weekend when I was supposed to get so much accomplished because every other weekend was booked up- laying on the couch.

Then, on Monday, we noticed that Dexter had a hot spot. He's had a lot of them in his 8 years and we've learned how to treat them ourselves. So we did just that. Until it got so bad that I was up half the night with him on Tuesday/ Wednesday morning. On Wednesday evening I took him to the vet and had to hold him down while they stuck him with needles. His infection was really bad- he had a fever. He was in so much pain and wouldn't even get off the couch to eat- that's the first time in his life he's been so sick that he wasn't interested in food. He has spent the last week wearing an e-collar almost every minute and hardly getting up off the couch. He's miserable.

On Wednesday night, after spending almost $500 at the vet, The husband and I had a talk about money. I've been asking him for months what our credit card balance was and he wouldn't tell me. I finally got him to tell me. Big mistake. It was almost 4 times what I thought it was. I was devastated. I thought that after this last year of training, when my husband starts making quadruple what he makes now, that I wouldn't have to worry about money anymore. But, now I realize that there will be credit card debt and student loans to pay. Plus, the car that my husband drives to work is falling apart and will need to be replaced soon, and Willa will be starting preschool next fall. I am so sick of worrying about money and I thought there was an end in sight, but now I see that I was wrong.

On Thursday I took Willa for a long walk. On the way back home she started to get very whiney. I was rushing to get her home and when I pushed the stroller off the curb to cross the street, the stroller flipped over and Willa landed on her face with the stroller on top of her. There was blood everywhere. Her mouth was full of blood. I couldn't even tell where the blood was coming from. I took her inside and washed her up. and the bleeding stopped and she was fine except for two fat lips and a bruised face. I however, was completely traumatized. And worth mentioning- I was wearing my only good winter coat, which is camel colored and my new fingerless winter white gloves, when the accident occurred. They were both covered in blood. So not important in the grand scheme of things, but still sucks.
After I got Willa all cleaned up I realized that Mookie was walking around crying and going in and out of the litter box and the bathtub. So I called the vet and they told me to bring him in right away. The vet said that if he had a blocked urethra again they would do surgery on him the next day. I can't take Willa to the vet with me because she has doctor anxiety and the last time we were there she screamed the ENTIRE TIME.
So, I called my husband and asked him to come home. Do you have any idea how hard it is for a doctor to leave work because his cat is sick? But, he came home anyway and he took Mookie to the vet. We were surprised to Find out that he didn't have a blocked urethra. Now he has a new problem- inflamed bladder. This is, of course, after he is on two different medications and a dietary supplement, and prescription food. We were relieved to find out that Mookie didn't need surgery, but the new drug (on top of his other drugs) that they want to put him on indefinitely, costs $120 a month.

Friday was a fairly good day with the exception of Willa's face being swollen up, and Dexter and Mookie being Sick. Then Friday night my mom (who was staying with us for the weekend) got a call from her husband- their dog, who had recently been diagnosed with cancer- wouldn't eat.

On Saturday morning my mom's dog died.

On Saturday afternoon I had to drive into the city in the pouring rain for a photo shoot. When I booked the shoot the woman gave me the impression that I would be shooting six people. The day before I found out that it was fourteen people. When I got there I found out that five of the people were children, the oldest one was six. You try photographing fourteen people at the same time. IT'S NOT EASY.

Sunday was actually a good day. We took Willa to an orchard/farm in the morning, and saw Coldplay at night.

Last night (Monday) my husband was at work (he's doing a week of the night shift) and I let Dexter out into the backyard right before bed. I was watching him out the window and I saw him poop, and then I saw him turn around and EAT HIS OWN POOP. Then I died.
I realized that when I saw him eating something in the backyard earlier in the day that it might have also been poop.
I went to sleep thoroughly disgusted.

This morning I woke up and let Dexter out of our bedroom and went in to Willa's room to get her. I changed her diaper and took her down to the living room. Dexter was laying on the couch and right below him on the carpet was a pile of vomited up poop. I cleaned it up and let Dexter out in the backyard. I watched him pee three times and poop. I made sure he didn't eat the poop. About an hour later he was acting like he needed to go out again so I let him out and he peed a ton. 45 minutes later I walked into the living room and he was sitting on our arm chair and he looked weird. And that's when I heard it- the sound of urine hitting fabric. He peed all over our chair. I let him out again and he peed a bunch more. We know that the steroids that the doctor gave him for his infection is causing this, the only other time he's peed in the house he was on steroids- but still- he didn't drink that much water, so I'm not sure how he can produce so much pee.

My husband came home from work and steam cleaned the chair (we had borrowed my mother's steam cleaner to clean our carpets- score!) while I went to the basement to do some laundry. When I got to the basement I realized that the heavy rain we got over night had caused some flooding.

And then my head exploded.

The end.

Posted by torrie at 01:12 PM | Permalink | Comments (22)

Don't make me come over there.

Please don't touch your brother's penis (referring to Dexter, our dog).

Give me a break.

Mommy's nipple is not a handle.

Please don't poop on me.

Please don't pee on me.

Please don't hit the cat in the head with her food bowl.

Please don't bite me.

Shoes do not go in your mouth.

Please don't eat the grass.

Please don't eat the rocks.

Filing cabinets are not for standing on.

You are driving me crazy.

Books are not for eating.

Please don't touch the poop.

I'm sure I'll add to this list as I think of more.
How about you? What have you said to your children that you thought you never would?

Posted by torrie at 01:49 PM | Permalink | Comments (18)

So, Willa stopped breast feeding the other day. She was a day shy of 13 months.

The strange part is that she stopped cold turkey. She breast fed like she normally does on Friday night before bed, and then Saturday morning she refused. She acted like I was trying to pour castor oil down her throat. I thought maybe it was because she is teething, but she went the whole day without breast feeding. Tomorrow will be one week.

Now, I know everyone says this about their kids, but Willa really is an unusual baby.
So, it did not really surprise me that she quit like that, but I was concerned.
When i called the pediatrician to tell him he said "that's weird".
I can only get her to drink 4-6 ounces of soy milk a and she's supposed to have about 24 ounces.
Because of this she is eating like a 16 year old football player. I can't give her enough food.

She eats 3 huge meals a day and at least 2 snacks. Everything she eats is organic and healthy, so I'm not worried about her getting enough nutrition, but I am worried about her getting enough fat. The only dairy product I was willing to give her was yogurt, but she doesn't like it- which is funny, because she likes almost everything.
I'm trying to give her lots of avocado and olive oil.

On a personal note-
I have mixed emotions about the breast feeding being over.
I will miss the convenience of it. I will miss having something to soothe my child with. The insane, worse case scenario part of me will miss having a back up food supply for my kid if we are ever stuck on a plane for 11 hours or trapped in our car in a snow storm. I will miss knowing that she is getting awesome nutrients and anti-bodies. I'm really happy that I breast fed my child for a year, especially considering I wasn't sure if I'd be able to do it at all.

How does the other part of me feel about it?

HALLELUJAH!

Willa has not taken a bottle since she was about 4 months old. That is totally my fault. When my dad was sick and right after he died, there was a period where I didn't give Willa a bottle for a couple of weeks. For those of you who have never breast fed I'll let you in on a little secret. Having someone give the baby a bottle is not as convenient as it sounds. Every time someone gives the baby a bottle your breasts still need to be drained, so you have to pump. When I was really busy it was just easier for me to give Willa the boob. No one was around helping me- my husband was working a lot- and if I gave her a bottle I would then have to pump- and find a way to occupy her while I was doing it, and I didn't have time for that. So, she went a couple of weeks without a bottle. And when things settled down and I thought it might be nice to spend an hour or two away from Willa, she refused to take a bottle. REFUSED. believe me we tried all different types of bottles, but Willa is a stubborn child, and I was too tired and emotionally drained to listen to her scream, so I gave her the boob. I had no idea how I was going to wean her, and I was afraid she would never give up the boob.

*(Hey new moms or moms to be- PLEASE give your baby a bottle. Once breast feeding is established- usually around 2-3 weeks- there is no reason you can't give your baby a bottle. Nipple confusion is a myth. Being able to leave your baby alone for more than a few minutes is important for your mental health. Please learn from my mistake and give your baby a bottle!)

So, yep, for 8-9 months it was all me. All boobs, all the time.
Which meant that I could never really go anywhere for very long.
And the insane irrational part of me would worry that I would get into a car accident and die and then WHAT WOULD HAPPEN!?
Exclusively breast feeding made me a prisoner. I couldn't be away from my child for more than a few hours. And breast feeding was part of Willa's bed time routine, so I could never go anywhere at night before 8pm which was really limiting.
I had no idea how we were going to get Willa to go to sleep without breast feeding, but that first night we just put her in her crib and she cried for maybe 2 minutes and then went to sleep. Just like that.

So, now I have this new sense of freedom.

I don't have to be there when she wakes up in the morning! I don't have to be there for nap time! I can go to a 7:30 movie! The world is my oyster!

I think maybe this is an opportunity for me to focus on myself a little bit. If I can even remember how to do that.

Posted by torrie at 02:01 PM | Permalink | Comments (13)

When I was little I thought using a tampon was insane.

I'm not sticking something in there.

I should also add that I was afraid of penises. My, how things have changed.

Anyway, like I was saying, I never thought I would shove a foreign object up my hoo-ha.

Then, the day after my 14th birthday, I got my period.

So, my mom bought me some maxi pads. I HATED them. They kept sticking to me. And jamming into my butt. And they made a crinkly sound when I walked. I was miserable.

I think I made it maybe a grand total of five hours before I asked my mom for a tampon.

After a couple of tries I inserted the tampon, and there has been no turning back.

It amazes me that I can walk around with a tampon in and not even feel it- I can even go swimming, and yet there are still people who choose to wear pads. This makes about as much sense to me as people who still use a bar of soap to wash themselves. *

(* I understand that there are a few of you who are very heavy bleeders and can't wear tampons, so please don't send me emails.)

What does this have to do with breastfeeding?

Well, when I was young I also thought I would NEVER breastfeed.

I thought it was weird. And gross.

Then I grew up and became a hippie.
And I everywhere I went I either read or heard that breastfeeding was the best thing you could do for your baby's health.
So, I decided when I had a baby I would try. I figured that even if I could breastfeed for a week that would be an accomplishment.
Then Willa was born and five minutes later she was on my breast. And it wasn't weird. Or gross. It felt very natural. And it felt like I was doing what I was supposed to be doing.

Now, I'm not saying it was easy. We struggled. Big time. On the second morning of Willa's life I stood in the bathroom at the hospital and cried because I felt like a failure. It took three lactation consultants and six weeks before the breastfeeding went smoothly. I look back on that time and I can't believe I made it through. If you had told me when Willa was born that it would be six weeks before we got breastfeeding down-six weeks of bloody nipples and pumping around the clock- I would have thought that I couldn't do it. But, I never gave up because I knew it was the best thing for Willa.
And here we are. Six months later. We are pros at breastfeeding. I'm so glad it worked out. It's so convenient. I don't have to worry about bringing bottles with me everywhere or mixing formula. If my kid is hungry I just whip out a boob.
Another bonus to breastfeeding that people hardly talk about? No period.
I haven't gotten my period since August 18th, 2006.
It is awesome.

(Do you like how I just brought this post full circle? That, my friends, takes talent.)

Posted by torrie at 11:40 PM | Permalink | Comments (35)

My kid has eczema.

At first she just had a little raised red patch on her chest, but now it is everywhere. Even on her face.

I've done my research. Kids with eczema are prone to other allergies. I'm so afraid she'll have food allergies. I'm afraid she'll be the kid at the birthday party who can't eat the cake and ice cream. And she'll have to carry an epi pen with her at all times. And going to a restaurant will be scary instead of fun.
I'm sure I'll be accused of over reacting, but I can't help but worry.

And call me superficial, but I can't stand that it has spread to her face. Her formerly perfect little face now has red bumpy patches all over it.

During my research I found out that eczema can be caused by dairy products that the mother has eaten (if the baby is breastfed). This means starting today I will not be eating dairy. Do you know how hard that is going to be for an already picky vegetarian? Also, what about the several months worth of breastmilk in the freezer that I have pumped? I guess I need to throw it all out.

I'd love to hear your experiences with skin and food allergies.

Posted by torrie at 09:52 AM | Permalink | Comments (40)

I think it has taken me 41/2 months to finally write this because I don't feel like i could ever do this story justice, but here it is anyway.

It was Monday May 14. My doctor was planning on inducing me on Tuesday. I really didn't want to be induced, but I was in so much pain at that point that I just wanted the pregnancy to be over.
At 12:30pm I visited my acupuncturist hoping that he could kick start my labor.
At 2pm I had an appointment with my OB. She said I was still less than 2cm dilated, but that I was "soft and so ready to go". She also asked me if I was aware that I was having contractions. I wasn't. I just felt kind of crampy. She told me to check into the hospital at midnight. They were going to insert something into my cervix to soften it and get labor going- unless of course, I was already having regular contractions.
Labor and delivery was really busy that night so they called us and asked us to come at 1:30am instead.
We checked in (we are in the biggest birthing room in the hospital- my doctor hooked us up) and I was hooked up to the monitors and IV's. It turns out that I was having contractions about five minutes apart so they couldn't give me the medicine to soften my cervix because I was already technically in labor. At 3:00am they started me on a low dose of pitocin.

They pump me up with so much fluid over-night that for the first time in my pregnancy my ankles are swollen and I get some stretch marks on my hips- NO KIDDING.

Over the next few hours various nurses and doctors kept saying to me "are you sure you're not feeling anything?"
My contractions were increasing and I still wasn't feeling them.

Over night I just hung out with my husband and watched DVD's- all the while watching my contractions increase on the monitor, but not feeling anything.

At some point early in the morning I had to poop. I was so worried that they weren't going to let me go to the bathroom because they told me once I was hooked up to the IV's and monitors that I couldn't get out of bed, but the nurse took one look at my terrified face and unhooked me. I was so relieved. I had spent the entire pregnancy- from the moment I first saw those two lines- worrying that I would poop on the table during delivery.

My contractions increased in frequency and strength throughout the morning- still with no pain.

My mother arrives.

At around 11AM one of my doctor's partners (my doctor was at her office a few blocks away) comes in to check on me. I am 4cm dilated.
He tells me that he wants to break my water and insert a catheter and that if I was planning on getting an epidural I should do it now because once my water breaks I should be in pain. I feel really weird about getting an epidural when I'm not having any pain, but I figure eventually there is going to be pain so we call the anesthesiologist.

After months of worrying, and getting an MRI and being assured that even though my back is fucked up, it's not fucked up in the way that should affect the epidural, they have trouble putting in my epidural. It takes several tries and two doctors.

They finally get the epidural in. I sit and wait for the supposed wonderful feeling that all of these woman talk about. The feeling that makes people want to hug their anesthesiologist. I just feel like my ass is asleep. I HATE the epidural. I tell my husband to have them turn it off. The nurses and doctors think I am a crazy woman. They keep asking me if I'm sure. I am sure. They turn it off.

My best friend arrives.

We are laughing and joking around with the doctors and nurses. We ask them to guess when the baby will be born. We hear things like 6pm and 10pm.

All of a sudden at about 12:30 I start experiencing INTENSE pain. It is different from how everyone describes it. It is not in my abdomen. It is in my crotch. I close my eyes and try to work through the pain. We call the anesthesiologists back to turn on the epidural. NOW I wouldn't mind a numb ass.

My doctor's partner sticks his head in the room as he's heading out of the hospital. I tell him that I'm having a lot of pain and pressure. He checks me. I am 8cm dilated. He is VERY surprised at how quickly I'm progressing.

My in-laws arrive. I am aware of their presence, but am focusing on getting through the pain. I assume that my husband will ask them to leave before I start pushing because that is what we had discussed.

SO MUCH PAIN. The epidural is doing nothing.

My best friend keeps asking why I'm not screaming. "Where's the screaming? How come there's no screaming?"

My doctor arrives. She is wearing a beautiful dress.
She had been sitting at her desk eating a sandwich telling her husband that she would probably miss the party they were supposed to go to that night because I was in labor, when her partner called her to tell her I was 8cm. She stopped eating her sandwich and ran over to the hospital. I tell her to take her time and finish her sandwich. She says "Um, yeah, I think I'm going to change into my scrubs".

Everyone in the room is watching my contractions on the monitor. My husband had explained to them how it worked. My best friend still doesn't understand why I'm not screaming.

She comes back into the room at 1pm and checks me. I am 10 cm dilated. She tells me it's time to start pushing. I wonder if she got to finish her sandwich. My best friend can't believe that after 16 years of me telling her that one day she would be there when I gave birth, that she is actually going to watch me give birth.

My doctor and my nurse tell me to start pushing. It is then that I realize that I have no idea how to push. It takes me a few tries to figure it out. My doctor has the epidural turned off which is fine with me because it wasn't giving me any relief anyway. (My doctor later says to me that she thinks she shouldn't have turned off my epidural. She thought it was making me numb, but she realizes now that it was just taking me a little while to learn how to push.)

My in-laws are still in the room. My father-in-law is standing a few feet away from the horror show that is my vagina.

My husband is holding one of my legs, my mother is holding my other leg and my best friend is pushing my head forward.

My doctor laughs and says that this is the most people she's ever had in the room during a delivery.

I am pushing. It is REALLY hard. It feels like the worst constipation I've ever had, times ten.

I am tired. I had pretty much been awake at this point for a day and a half.

More pushing. The contractions are right on top of each other. I only have a few seconds between each. I'm thinking if I could just rest for a couple of minutes...

But the urge to push is overwhelming.

I BEG for the vacuum. I say I can't do this. I feel the head and I'm thinking that there is no way I'm going to be able to get it out on my own. My doctor stays completely calm and tells me I'm doing fine. I feel like I've been pushing forever.

FINALLY the head comes out. I let out a scream. My best friend is relieved to know that I am human. I actually say "Thank God" out loud. I know the rest will be easy.

60 seconds later, at 2:30pm, after one hour of pushing, Willa was born.

There was much excitement and tears in the room.

My doctor tries to place Willa on my chest, but the umbilical cord is way to short- she can barely lift her. She asks my husband for help. He cuts the cord. I get to meet Willa. We are all amazed- when I was born I almost died because my umbilical cord was wrapped around my neck AND it was too short. I am relieved that Willa's cord was not wrapped around her neck.

Willa is perfect. I can't believe she is finally here. I feel the most at peace I have ever felt. Everyone around me is a flurry of nerves and I have never felt so relaxed.

I am a mother.

It was worth the wait.

Posted by torrie at 12:22 PM | Permalink | Comments (12)

-I found out that my building has been throwing out all of our recyclables with the regular trash. This makes me furious. I promptly reported them.

-I got a botched bikini wax- uneven, ripped skin, wax left all over me- and then the salon had the nerve to try to charge me extra.

-I was breastfeeding Willa and I started laughing. Apparently Willa doesn't like when I laugh because she started to cry. She's so adorable when she cries- she has a perfect pout- that it made me laugh harder which made her cry more.

-I have a canker sore on my tongue.

-Dexter has another hot spot.

-I was clipping my nails so I don't stab myself or my child and a nail clipping flew into my eye.

-The Mets lost.

I'm going to bed before anything else goes wrong.

Update: After a night of virtually no sleep, this is how my morning started.

Posted by torrie at 09:44 PM | Permalink | Comments (12)

Me: Ah! Mookie is putting his anus on me!
Husband: Fight through it. Walk it off.

Posted by torrie at 10:32 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I have two questions:

1) How long did you wait until after you had a baby to have sex?

2) Did it hurt?

Feel free to comment anonymously.

Posted by torrie at 10:24 AM | Permalink | Comments (32)

Last night at 11pm we finally thought we had gotten Willa to fall asleep. She had been awake since 4pm- unheard of for a two week old. We tried everything between the hours of 4-11. She ate a ton, we rocked her, we went outside for a walk, we sang to her, we let her suck on our fingers, but nothing worked. She nodded off several times, but within ten minutes her eyes would pop open.
We didn't understand how she could possibly eat so much. My husband even joked that she must have a hollow leg.
By 11pm I was exhausted and worried something was wrong, but she never really cried or got upset, so I had no idea what was going on.
I put her in her bassinet hoping that she would finally fall asleep. I was sitting on my bed (next to the bassinet) when I heard a horrible gurgling sound. Willa was vomiting. A LOT. I picked her up and turned her on her side and for a brief moment she was gasping for air. That one moment was perhaps the scariest of my life. The poor thing was miserable and we were both covered in vomit. She was gagging and crying, so my husband used the bulb syringe to clear the mucus out of her throat.
Withing two minutes she was passed out.
I sat on my bed holding her ,and I burst into tears. I was so tired, and that one moment of her gasping for air scared me so much, and I hated seeing her so miserable.
I spent most of the night awake, watching her breathe.

As I sit here exhausted, pumping breast milk when I'd REALLY rather be sleeping, I realized I will probably have many more nights like last night, but it's all worth it.

I am a mother.

Posted by torrie at 08:32 AM | Permalink | Comments (25)

NOT FUN- Getting a bikini wax when you are already sore, swollen, and dilated.

Posted by torrie at 04:00 PM | Permalink | Comments (15)

I just ate half a croissant with chocolate hazelnut spread.....

And then I threw it all up.

Posted by torrie at 10:33 PM | Permalink | Comments (9)

Yes, I am still alive. I could bore you with tales from the last two weeks about pain, and almost being hospitalized, and more pain, and how I started losing weight, and the chiropractor, and the acupuncturist, and the PAIN, and the pain medication, and the ANNOYING woman who led our hospital tour, but instead I'll regale you with a tale of blood and gore (and stupidity).

Yesterday while my husband was at the gym I took a shower (see, already this is a super exciting story).
When I was finished I couldn't help but notice that the "hedges" were long overdue for a trim.
Now, normally this is not a big deal. I grab a pair of cuticle scissors or my husband's electric beard trimmer and withing a few minutes I'm "manicured", but now, a few days away from being eight months pregnant, I can't see my own crotch.
It is at this point in the story that I must mention that a couple of days earlier my husband had said he would do it for me, because he is awesome like that (he also shaves my legs for me because I can't reach them).
Rather than wait the fifteen minutes or so until my husband came home, I decided it would be a great idea to go on a blind expedition through my bottom system jungle.
So, I sat on the toilet bowl, beard trimmer in hand and started raking away. Things were going fine until- ZZZZzzzzzzzzztttttttttt.
OK, I thought, that hurt a little, but it certainly doesn't mean I should stop. I kept on raking away using the braille method until I happened to notice that there was blood all over the beard trimmer.
Uh oh.
OK, maybe NOW would be a good time to stop hacking around blindly at my crotch.

My husband came home to find me with a sheepish look on my face. When I told him what I'd done he said "for future reference, it's probably not a good idea to jam sharp pointy things(insert- ha! that's funny too-joke here) at your vagina(he uses fancy words like vagina because he's a doctor), especially when you can't see it."
He is so wise.

So, here I sit, with wounded crotch.

I can not even tell you how disconcerting it is to not be able to keep tabs on your own crotch.
I mean, God only knows what's going on down there.

Posted by torrie at 11:31 AM | Permalink | Comments (20)

My doctor thinks I have bronchitis.

No, I am not kidding.

This is day nine of the cold from hell.

It started off as a sore throat and has turned into constant coughing, and spitting up green stuff.

Three times over the past few days I have vomited up stuff that I can only describe as what it might look like if someone put a gremlin in a blender. It's been fun.

My husband finally convinced me to call my doctor today because I'm getting worse instead of better, I haven't gained any weight in the last week and a half, and I can't sleep because I cough all night.

My doctor prescribed antibiotics today.
She's afraid that if I don't get this under control it will turn into pneumonia. Especially since I can't sit up for more than a half an hour at a time because of my rib pain. (I think I forgot to mention that after consulting with two doctors, my physical therapist, and a massage therapist, they are all in agreement that the rib pain is being caused by a pinched nerve in my back. Not much they can do for it. I had my second acupuncture appointment yesterday- have another one tomorrow- we'll see if that works.)

Lesson learned- you can't plan everything and you can't predict how things are going to go.
I thought I would have a great pregnancy (maybe because my mom did).
I didn't think I would be in constant pain. I didn't think I would have to be on modified bed rest.
I certainly didn't think I would take any drugs. I have taken Tylenol, Benadryl (to try to knock me out so I would stop coughing and get some sleep- it didn't work), and now antibiotics.

I guess all of this is good preparation for when the baby arrives and almost nothing goes the way I thought it would.

Posted by torrie at 02:08 PM | Permalink | Comments (20)

Last night I did something in front of my husband that I've never done before in the almost 10 years we've been together.

I peed.

I was not, however, sitting on a toilet at the time.

Let me explain.

I don't go to the bathroom in front of anyone. Not even my own mother.

Last night I was laying on the couch and the husband and I were laughing.

I started laughing so hard that a little pee came out. Which only made me laugh harder. Which made more pee come out.

For the next few minutes I was stuck in a vicious cycle of laughing, and peeing, and gasping for air.

In between gasps of air I managed to choke out "I'm peeing on myself!!!"

This made my husband laugh so hard that he fell on the floor.

A couple of minutes later, with tears streaming down my face, I managed to compose myself.

That's when I realized I had soaked through my underwear onto my pajama pants. A couple of more teaspoons, and I would have officially peed on the couch.

I ran to the bathroom still laughing.

I came out and showed my husband the wet spot on my pajamas, shaking my head in disbelief.

"Well, now you can't say you haven't peed in front of me."

Here's hoping I never poop on the couch.

Posted by torrie at 04:04 PM | Permalink | Comments (15)

Last night I took off my pants and when I looked down I realized I couldn't tell if I was wearing underwear or not.

I can't see my own crotch anymore.

On the bright side- at least I can still see other people's crotches.

Posted by torrie at 05:40 PM | Permalink | Comments (16)

I have much better posts than this one to write, but I am lazy. Instead, enjoy this poorly written post riddled with bad grammar.

So, without further ado, here is a list of things that have happened in the last week (in no particular order).

- My back has gotten increasingly bad. Walking used to be the only thing that made it feel better, and now that hurts too, so I'm basically screwed.

-We had our 20 week anatomy ultrasound. It was mostly awesome. Except for the part where the baby was breech and totally would not cooperate and they kept making me move from side to side, and then they made me walk around and eat ice cream, and after all that the baby was still breech. So, 4 different sonogram technicians poked and prodded my belly trying to measure various parts of the baby.
There was one part where the baby was kicking me, and I mean REALLY kicking me. Like get this fucking uterus off my feet/ kung foo fighting kicking me and even the sonogram technician whose job it is to look at babies in the womb ALL DAY was like "WHOA, that kid is really kicking you" and I'm thinking that when I can REALLY feel her kick (right now I only feel flutters) this is not going to be as cute.
After two hours, when we were on our fourth sonogram technician, the only thing left to do was take some measurements of the baby's profile. That was right about the time the baby decided to nuzzle her face into the placenta so we couldn't see a god damn thing. I fear that this baby is just like me.

- I was going to drive the animals to my mom's house by myself on Friday because we were going to be leaving for vacation at 5AM on Saturday, but the husband concluded that there was no way with my bad back that I was going to be able to load all the animals and their crap into the car by myself and then drive 4 hours (especially knowing that I was going to have to sit on a plane for six hours on Saturday). So, he made the executive decision that after the sonogram on Thursday he would drive to my mom's.
Because the sonogram took so long we didn't even get on the road until 6:45pm, so we didn't get home until 11:30 PM. The husband had to get up at 5 the next morning.
When we got back, the husband couldn't find his wallet anywhere. Which was just what we needed to be dealing with after such an emotionally exhausting day. We concluded that the only time he had taken his wallet out was when we stopped for gas (about an hour into our 4 +hour round trip). So, I spent 10 minutes on the phone with directory assistance trying to figure out the phone number of the gas station.
I finally got the number, and miraculously they had found the wallet.
However that meant that I was going to have to drive 2+ hours round trip on Friday to pick up the wallet which kind of defeated the purpose of the husband driving me the night before.
I was complaining about all of this to Heather over IM on Friday morning when she offered to drive me. Seriously. It's things like this that make me realize that I have hit the friend jackpot.
So, she drove me. And I picked up the wallet. And everything was still in it.

- We left for our vacation at 5AM on Saturday. At the security check at the airport I got pulled aside to be screened. The woman was wanding me and there wasn't even a beep and she said to me "why did he pull you aside?" and I said "I don't know, maybe because I'm pregnant" and so she asked him and sure enough he said he pulled me aside because he wanted to make sure I wasn't smuggling anything under my shirt. The woman, who was his superior, got really pissed and said "she's pregnant, you idiot".

-We used all of our frequent flier miles to fly first class because we figured it would be easier on my back. Boy, were we wrong. They didn't have any pillows, so I had to use 4 blankets to support my back. One of flight attendants was rude to me, there was hardly any leg room, and the food sucked.
So NOT worth it.

-We are in Utah. We're up in the mountains right above Salt Lake City. The husband is skiing while I sit around the lodge on my fat ass all day.

-Utah is BEAUTIFUL, but DRY. Really DRY.
I have never consumed so much water in my life.
Also, my nose is all dry and crusted, and bloody. I'm seriously considering shoving some of my moisturizer up there.

-Yesterday I leaked colostrum all over my husband's T-shirt.
I can't believe this is already happening. I thought that wouldn't happen until after I give birth.
I keep thinking if I'm leaking this much now, imagine how much I will leak once my milk actually comes in. I wonder what kind of trajectory these bad boys will have.

-Flickr has something against me and it won't let me upload any of my pictures from my laptop.

-People ski entirely too fast.

Posted by torrie at 11:50 AM | Permalink | Comments (11)

Because I certainly don't know what the hell to call it.

Posted by torrie at 01:45 PM | Permalink | Comments (14)

We watched this awesome documentary about animals from conception through birth last night.
Three different animals were featured- an elephant, a dolphin, and a Golden Retriever.
We were watching the segment about the Golden Retriever when they showed the male dog basically performing oral sex on the female dog before he mounted her.
I immediately paused the TV and turned to my husband-
"See! More proof that Golden Retrievers are the best breed- Foreplay!"
The husband just blinked at me in disbelief.

This was not the first time I had seen a male Golden Retriever being sexually generous.

Posted by torrie at 11:42 AM | Permalink | Comments (4)

So, whenever we have an OB appoinment we take a cab there and then walk home.
Before we leave for the doctor's office I make sure my bits are all nice and clean- hair trimmed- smelling fresh as a meadow. If we walked the 2 miles to the office, my area might resemble more of a swamp than a meadow. Being that I grew up in New York I am physically incapable of walking slow. As New Yorkers we must always rush, even if we are not in a hurry,
So, my point is- walking fast=sweat.
Sweat= Not such a pleasant situation down below.
My OB is my favorite doctor of all time. I'd rather not offend her with a crotch that smells like a gym locker, so we take a cab.
Yesterday we had an OB appointment (everything was perfect. we heard the baby's heart beat!). In the cab on the way there I started hearing what sounded like the cabbie was popping gum. I HATE gum popping. Almost as much as I hate whistling.
But then I caught something shiny and metal out of the corner of my eye. I bent forward to get a closer look and that's when I realized- HE WAS CLIPPING HIS NAILS WHILE DRIVING.
Now, I don't even like to be in the same house when someone clips their nails, let alone trapped in a motor vehicle with them (WHILE THEY ARE DRIVING). Suddenly gum popping didn't seem so bad.
We got out of the cab and I stood on the sidewalk and dry heaved for a while.
I had nightmare's about it last night.
I guess you could say we were lucky that he wasn't clipping his toenails.

Posted by torrie at 11:34 AM | Permalink | Comments (13)

I may, or may not have used my baking scale to weigh my boobs.

Posted by torrie at 11:03 PM | Permalink | Comments (15)

We went out with friends on Friday night.
While we waited for our table at Serendipity, we walked down the street to Dylan's Candy Bar.
One of my friends decided to have some sourpatch kids.
I watched in horror as he haphazardly popped two or three in his mouth at a time.
I explained to him that there was a right way to eat sourpatch kids- that you must savor them.
He argued that there are "different" ways of doing things. That people have different "opinions".
And then in a feable attempt to prove me wrong, he shoved all of his remaining sourpatch kids in his mouth.

Dammit people!- there is a right and a wrong way to do things, and that's just WRONG.
I'm still twitching.

Posted by torrie at 09:27 AM | Permalink | Comments (12)

Check it out.

I can't decide which one is my favorite, but I'm leaning towards the naked indian humping a corn dog.

(Make sure you click on the links for part 2, 3, and 4 too.)

Posted by torrie at 10:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (6)

Of all of the wonderful memories I'll have of my thirtieth birthday, perhaps my favorite was when Dexter, who we have had for six years and who hasn't peed in the house since two days after we adopted him, decided to squat and pee on our carpet in front of our twenty birthday party guests.

Posted by torrie at 05:34 PM | Permalink | Comments (10)

I'm supposed to get my period on Thursday- AKA, my 30th birthday.

Posted by torrie at 03:19 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

Here is one of my favorite entries of all time.

It was the kind of situation where it sucked in the moment, but I knew the minute it was over it would be a good story.

Posted by torrie at 01:35 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Posted by torrie at 02:08 PM | Permalink | Comments (6)

I was in the emergency room from 10:30pm-4:00am.

At 9pm I started having major pain on my lower right abdomen.

I was literally writhing around and moaning from the pain.

The husband was NOT HAPPY and made me go to the ER.

They think my cyst(which was on the left) grew even larger to the point where it was pushing to the right, and then ruptured.

At 4am, there was talk of me seeing a resident from the OB depertment. I would have waited hours for that to happen and they would have repeated the same tests, so I finally excepted the pain medicine they'd been offering me all night and went home.

I just spoke to my OB's office and I'm waiting for a call back, because I'm sure they will want to do futher poke and proding tests.

I feel better today, less pain, but boy am I TIRED.

Time to get back to bed.....

*Updtae: My doctor confirmed that I have indeed ruptured my gigantic cyst (Who I had named Melvin- I'll miss you Melvin).

Posted by torrie at 10:05 AM | Permalink | Comments (12)

1) Bagels are my favorite food.
2) I am a carbohydrate junkie
3) My husband is two years younger than me. Before I met him I had only dated older men (boys).
4) I am a strict vegetarian. It's like a religion to me.
5) I hate organized religion.
6) I've never thrown up from drinking.
7) I hated high school.
8) I don't wear bras.
9) My favorite books are To Kill a Mocking Bird and The Catcher in the Rye. I've read both of them several times.
10) I love to read.
11) I went to culinary school.
12) I used to be a pastry chef.
13) I've also been a nanny.
14) I can sing, or so I've been told.
15) I love to dance. I've got rythm.
16) In high school I majored in dance, but had to stop because of an injury.
17) The only bone I've ever broken is my pinkie. (Knock on wood)
18) My father offered to pay for me to get a nose job. I refused just to spite him, and now sometimes I regret it.
19) I've never stayed over night in a hospital.
20) I predicted the big earth quake that hit California in the late 80's.
21) I have watched the movie Dirty Dancing too many times to count.
22) I had my first boyfriend when I was nine, but didn't lose my virginity until I was eighteen.
23) I've been pregnant twice, but I don't have any children.
24) I have three cats and one dog.
25) I will not pee in front of anyone. Not even my mother.
26) I grew up in Manhattan.
27) I went to sleep away camp in the Poconos.
28) I love when it rains. I especially love thunderstorms.
29) I have a mild case of OCD. Paintings can't be crooked, things have to be eaten in a certain way, etc.
30) I was in a pageant when I was 12. I won.
31) I am a pack rat.
32) I bruise easily.
33) I have straight pubic hair. The hair on my head is wavy. This makes no sense.
34) I like to write to do lists so I can cross things off.
35) I HATE onions. They are evil.
36) I have a BAD back.
37) I love the smell of fresh cut grass.
38) I have been blogging since August, 2003.
39) I have 42 pairs of shoes. None of them are leather.
40) I am broke.
41) I hate doing the dishes.
42) David Copperfield made me disappear.
43) Jon Bon Jovi laughed at me.
44) I've had sex with two different people in one day.
45) I have a tattoo.
46) My husband has a tongue ring. I *love* it.
47) I was a camp counselor.
48) I once told Scott Hamilton to "Get out on the ice and do a couple of back flips!"
49) Two of my photos were published in the New York Times.
50) I love to learn.
51) I am allergic to cats and dogs.
52) I HATE the cold.
53) I used to be a gymnast
54) I can't watch other people fold clothes because THEY DO IT WRONG.
55) I lived in Boston for five years. It wasn't New York.
56) I have fifty billion medical problems.
57) I like to exaggerate.
58) If you tickle me I will black out and hurt you. I'm dead serious.
59) My wedding was vegetarian. The food was so good, half of the guests didn't even realize it.
60) I had the best wedding EVER.
61) Some of my favorite movies are American Beauty, Garden State, 40 Year Old Virgin, Office Space, Coming to America, and Forrest Gump. I'm sure I'm forgetting a bunch more.
62) Some of my favorite bands/artists are Coldplay, Cake, Indigo Girls, The Beatles, Eminem, Sublime, Billy Joel, Fiona Apple, Miles Davis, Paul Simon, and Radiohead. I am not ashamed.
63) Billy Joel once told me he was too drunk to remember me interrupting his meal.
64) I was flat chested until I was about 19. Now I'm a 36C.
65) I HATE coffee.
66) I LOVE tea.
67) I hate underwear. I wear them reluctantly and am constantly digging them out of my cavernous ass.
68) I hate whistling. It's like nails on a chalk board to me.
69) My father-in-law whistles ALL THE TIME.
70) I have seven nephews and three nieces.
71) I think I'm the only person on the planet who hates the TV show Law and Order.
72) I moved out of the house when I was 19.
73) If I could wish for one secret power it would be to never have to shave my legs again.
74) I am allergic to artichokes.
75) I've never been anywhere in the middle of the country. The closest I've been to the middle is Ohio or Utah.
76) I'm a good driver. I drive like a man.
78) I desperately want to go to England. I don't know why.
79) I used to have waist length blonde hair.
80) I don't chew gum.
81) I don't drink soda.
82) I don't like sex toys. That's how I roll.
83) Sometimes I like to talk like I'm from the hood. WORD.
84) Thanks to blogging, I have friends that live in states and countries I've never been to.
85) My favorite color is blue.
86) I have two half sisters and a half brother.
87) I can't say the word *fart*. It makes me cringe. The fact that I was even able to type it is a miracle.
88) I've had many crushes, but I've only been in love once.
89) I am not good at styling my hair, or anyone else's hair for that matter.
90) I wear SPF on my face every day, even in the winter.
91) I haven't "tanned" since I was 18. I look pale, but I actually have my dad's Sicilain skin and I can get quite dark.
92) Chocolate is my drug of choice.
93) I love book stores. I could spend all day in a book store.
94) I didn't learn how to tie my shoe laces until I was six, and I couldn't ride a bike without training wheels until I was almost ten.
95) I watch entirely too much television.
96) My husband is a genius. Literally. It's like living with a human encyclopedia and dictionary all rolled into one.
97) I got braces my senior year in high school. It sucked.
98) I can't eat spicy food. This is very difficult considering I'm a vegetarian.
99) I try to avoid the topic of politics because I just get upset and frustrated.
100) Writing this list was not easy.

Did you learn anything new about me?

Posted by torrie at 12:08 PM | Permalink | Comments (32)

I am conducting a survey.

Here are the questions:

1) Do you pee in the shower?

2) Have you ever had athlete's foot, any kind of foot fungus, or a toenail infection?

This post reminded me of a theory I've had for a while.
I've never had a foot infection (knock on wood) and I pee in the shower.
I think the fact that I pee in the shower might be the REASON I don't get foot infections.
Pee has antiseptic properties.

Anyway, now that you are sufficiently grossed out, please participate in the survey by leaving a comment answering the two questions (feel free to do so anonymously) and we'll see if I'm on to something.

Maybe Harvard Medical School will get wind of this experiment and want to conduct their own.

Posted by torrie at 09:16 AM | Permalink | Comments (38)

Is it so wrong that when I was leaving to take Dexter for his walk this morning, I picked the plastic bag I would use to pick up his poop based on which one matched my outfit the best?

Posted by torrie at 11:04 AM | Permalink | Comments (8)

You know what's fun?

Having an ovarian cyst rupture WHILE YOU ARE HAVING SEX.

Hasn't my body been through enough in the past couple of months?

Posted by torrie at 10:51 AM | Permalink | Comments (16)

Thank you to whoever invented Puffs Plus. You are a genius.

I have a HORRIBLE cold and I have blown my nose approximately 7,000 times in the last two days.

And even though I have been applying cocoa butter religiously, my nose still felt like someone had been using a cheese grater on it.

This morning I used the last Kleenex tissue in the apartment. Faced with the reality that if I did not buy some tissues PRONTO, my apartment would be covered in green phlegm, I gathered what little strength I had and went downstairs to the drugstore where I purchased a huge box of Puffs Plus.

They are so wonderfully soft.

It's like wiping your nose with a baby's ass or a cuddly bunny.

Ahhhhhhhhhh.

Posted by torrie at 01:33 PM | Permalink | Comments (10)

Every night when my husband gets home from work I ask him how his day was.
Now, I know I'm not the only person in the world married to a doctor, but he tells me some pretty crazy stories-REALLY CRAZY- and it's so frustrating that I can't write about them here.

I can however tell you about Kidney transplants because those happen every day and this doesn't pertain to a particular patient.
Keep in mind when you're reading this that I AM NOT MAKING THIS UP.

So, you need a kidney transplant because one of your kidneys is sick and not working properly, if at all.
You wait for a kidney. They find a match, thanks to some generous organ donor.
They wheel you into surgery to give you your new kidney.

So, I bet you're thinking the surgery goes like this:

Cut open patient.
Remove diseased kidney.
Insert new kidney.
Sew up patient.

But, no. That's not how they do it.

Here's how an actual kidney transplant goes:

Cut open patient.
JAM NEW KIDNEY INTO BODY CAVITY WITHOUT REMOVING THE OLD ONE.
Sew up patient.

That's right. They don't take out the old, diseased, shriveled up kidney.
They just shove the new one in there.

I don't know about you, but I was not aware that there was so much extra room in the body cavity that you could just shove extra organs in there.

Doesn't that sound like something they would have done, oh I don't know, in the 1700's before they figured out basic human anatomy?

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is just the tip of the iceberg.


*Update- The husband just read this and wanted me to add that they put the new Kidney IN YOUR PELVIS.
Now, excuse me while I go read one of the 20 anatomy books we have because I'm pretty sure KIDNEYS ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE IN THE PELVIS.

Posted by torrie at 12:26 PM | Permalink | Comments (21)

I wish I could afford to get a colonic.

I guess I could settle for an at-home enema.

Posted by torrie at 11:15 AM | Permalink | Comments (9)

I am losing my hair. No, really, I am.
When I run my hands through my hair handfuls come out.
There is hair everywhere. On the back of my coat, on the couch cushions, on the floor.
When I shower I collect all of the hair (that comes out of my HEAD, Bucky you pervert) and I stick it to the shower wall so it doesn't go down the drain and clog it up.

I present to you photographic evidence that my hair is, in fact, falling out at an alarming rate:

This is ONE shower folks. At this rate I'll look like Telly Savalas in a few weeks.

Posted by torrie at 11:45 AM | Permalink | Comments (15)

I bet Britney has purchased a case.

Posted by torrie at 11:55 AM | Permalink | Comments (7)

I went to my mom's house today to hang out and help her bake cookies.
While there, covered in cookie batter she asked "do I smell?"
"Uh, no."
"Is smelling one of the side affects of diabetes?"
"Not that I know of. I'll have to ask the husband."
"Because the other night I woke up at 4AM dripping with sweat.."
"Yeah..."
"and I went into the bathroom and I smelled something really funky."
"Yeah..."
"and then I realized it was me."
"Really? You never smell bad.'
"Torrie, it was BAD. I smelled like a sick whore."
"Did you just say you smelled like a sick whore?"
"Yes. I'm trying to convey to you how BAD it was."
"Um, yeah, I think I get it."

Posted by torrie at 11:21 PM | Permalink | Comments (11)

Can someone please explain to me what the big deal with Antonio Banderas is.
Women actually find this guy attractive?
I just want to spray him with lysol.

Posted by torrie at 11:12 AM | Permalink | Comments (13)