Saturday, April 9, 2011

New Ideas

I've been thinking about what I'm in the process of writing now, what I am thinking about writing next, the stuff I'm toying with on the side and things I will probably never finish. It's exhausting. I have an idea for another book again based on true stories. However, this one would be more dark. There would still be humor, because really, how can signing a petition in a mental ward because you're pissed off that the staff changed the peanut butter brand on you NOT be funny? See what I mean? Hysterical, but still sorta pathetic. No, scratch that. REALLY pathetic.

Also, my passion, fascination, determination, obsession with Paris continues unabated. It's inevitable. I must live there. Does anyone else look for real estate in foreign countries and really consider buying besides me? I figure I could get my teaching license for France, teach English and live there. Of course, Wally would have to agree, and the kids would have to be at least semi independent. That means a few more years, but still....I already found an apartment which is supposedly next to impossible to do in Paris. Leave it to me to find one, and have no real plan to acquire it. When I'm really ready, I'll not be able to find any place.

In health news, my tremors have begun to worsen, but I think I'm more aware of them and trying to keep them as unobtrusive as possible. I haven't had any horrible days where I can barely walk. I think my last one like that was when we were in London. The more stressed I am, the worse it is, and I have a theory that the hotter it is, the worse my tremors are. My shoulder/neck/back issues seem to be largely better, but I made the mistake of running and have jammed someting back up. Result: pain.
Secondary result: more migraines.

On to another timely topic for me:
MENOPAUSE???? Seriously???? Isn't it enough that we go through a horrific puberty as girls, what with boobs, menstruation, hair, etc....but then...THEN.....we have continued menstruation, breast exams, breast self exams, mammograms, yearly exams where a stranger with rubber gloves looks for his lost socks in your uterus, and probably anything else he lost in the previous year. Then, because we are the blessed gender, we are able to be impregnated, go through 10 months, (not 9, people...count...40 weeks is 10 months) of sharing our bodies with another being, and because of that, we cannot use sweetener, cough drops, ibuprofen, benadryl, alcohol, or basically anything I use daily almost. And FORGET XANAX!!! I was so careful, I got the flu and would not take anything for fever until the doctor told me the fever was more harmful than the Tylenol for my baby. I grudgingly took two Tylenol, and began praying that my child would not be harmed by it. Unbearable sickness for 12 weeks which magically disappears as quickly as it appeared, but not before you beg for death, extreme exhaustion and unbelievable expenses. THEN...we get to experience the blessed miracle of birth. No, really. I do feel it is a miracle. It just is a major pain, that's all. My first one was SUPER easy. I thought I could go into business. No drugs, no pain, just a couple of pushes and PLOP, the little sucker was out and ready to roll. I got up and was doing stuff within an hour. Of course, after that, I got no sleep for the next 4 years. Period. At all. Which could explain how I became an expectant mother again 3 years later. My second pregnancy was pretty much like my first. No biggie. Well, there was a biggie. Namely, ME. Other than that, we lived in the frigid polar region of MICHIGAN (seriously, how do you people handle it?), and I had a toddler to chase after. Nothing was much different until I went into labor. THEN the shit got serious. NOT easy. VERY not easy. VERY big problems. VERY big pain. Special pain. Indescribable, really. Waited too long for any drugs...because I'm a badass that way, and had to really go it drug free..they tried an epidural after it was too late. I don't recommend that. I should have had a C-section, but some dumbass doctor with hands like Dr. Menghele didn't seem to know his ass from his elbow from my birth canal. I gave birth NATURALLY to an 11 pound 2 foot long boy. No, you read that right. NATURALLY. Many stitches, cursing and much crying ensued. However, I got another perfect angelic boy. As you can imagine, I never gave birth again. No sir, no thank you, I'll take a pass on that one. Plus, when you are young and don't know any better people don't tell you the truth about childbirth. I did the Bradley Method which I HIGHLY recommend to everyone. It worked beautifully with my first child. The hospital where I had my second child insisted we take Lamaze (in my opinion a big fat dumbass joke), so we did. I ignored most of it and did my Bradley. However, during Lamaze class, the instructor was guiding us through a "pain meditation". I was the only woman in there who was not going through her first pregnancy. I KNEW what to expect. The others were all glowing, a little scared and thinking this Lamaze stuff was the SHIT. We were told that when we had a bad contraction, to close our eyes, (never do this), and imagine we were standing on a beach. We write the word "Pain" in the sand. The waves come in and gently wash the word "Pain" away. When she said that, I busted out laughing and accidentally snorted. I didn't see it coming. Seriously? Imagine a wave washing away the word "pain"? It is to laugh. I laugh at this. HAHAHA! Big laugh! I got major hostile stares from the instructor and all the other couples. Big whoop. I shrugged and said, "Whatever gets you through..."
THEN, D day came. I go into labor. I wasn't sure it was labor because with my first, my water broke. A pretty definitive sign that stuff is on, right? With the second, I had cramps, they very gradually got worse, then got pretty bad, I couldn't talk or walk through them, and we went to the hospital. The baby's head was in a bad position, so I couldn't push, although I had no urge to push yet. Both of my babies had their umbilical cords wrapped twice around their necks. That had to be adjusted. Then, the REAL pain began. I was in too much pain to cry, make sound, or ask for help. It was just blinding. Well, yeah. I was giving birth to a 2 year old. He came out asking for a ham sandwich, for God's sake. Well, that's an exaggeration, but he was 11 pounds, and my first was a little over 7 pounds. I didn't have gestational diabetes, I didn't gain more weight, I was active....he was just huge. I do not regret it at all. It was all worth it.
Bradley Childbirth. Perfection. Do it.

NOW, back to MENOPAUSE....you have kids, you continue to grapple with your monthly crime scene producing amounts of blood, then....IT GETS WORSE! Will it come on time? Probably not. Will it come today? Maybe. Tomorrow? Could be. In twenty days? It's a good bet. Yesterday? Pretty sure. How long will it last? Oh...anywhere from a day to 28 days, when it will be time for your next one. Will it be heavier, lighter...what? Um, yes, yes, yes, and yes. Will I act crazy and have hot flashes? Bet on it, baby. You'll get irrationally angry at shit like cans turned the wrong way at the grocery store. You'll wake up in the middle of the night soaked in sweat, have to wake up your husband, change your clothes, shower and change the sheets because the beauty of womanhood has bit you in the ass once again. Headaches will increase because your hormones will be doing the cha-cha everyday. Your weight will fluctuate. You'll have intestinal discomfort. Cramps, backaches...all that shit. It's all yours! Heartburn will bother you from stuff like...oh...I don't know...PLAIN WHITE BREAD. Crap like that. It's a hoot. Have a blast. I know I am. It makes PMS look like an episode of "Romper Room".

Well, this started out as some self questioning about my writing and turned into a rant about the mysteries of our monthly relationship with the moon. (My ass...don't give me that shit...I'm not saving the blood in a jar and burying it under the full moon to gain power...what a crock of SHIT.)
So, yeah. Sorry about that. But if you know me, then..well...you know me. That's how I am. And I'm menopausal now, so suck it if you don't like it.
Love,
Me.

2 comments:

Little Momma said...

I have to agree on the whole lamaze thing. Total waste of time. & the peanut butter thing is hilarious!

Jacksmom said...

Lamaze blew. Seriously. It was a lot of blowing. Let's face it: an 11 pound baby is going to stomp the hell out of Lamaze methods.
The peanut butter thing? So true. My head would hang in shame if I had any.