Just got lemon vinegarette in the tiniest cut on my thumb tip that runs under the nail bed.

So. I’m pretty sure I just died. A really painful death.

Hunger pains

When your baby finally falls asleep on you, so you are stuck in the recliner, and you are so hungry you can actually hear your stomach digesting your spine. Please don't let that sound wake the baby.

Future Doctor?? Skin-tags can be removed!

This week the baby saved me a trip to the dermatologist! How you ask? Well- I had developed this nasty little skin tag on my chest during pregnancy. It was right below where my necklace falls - so an irritating spot. But you noticed I said “was” … that’s because while breastfeeding, my child, who obsessively likes to grab on to something for dear life, reached up and scratched that sucker right off. Yes. She’s that strong. And Yes, it hurt like a MFer. But I figure she saved me about $300 at the dermatologist. So - I’ll be depositing that in her college fund.

Will I ever sleep again?

I thought I had once been tired. I had not. I didn’t even know what tired was; had never experienced the complete drain of physical resource. The bone aching, soul crushing exhaustion of having a newborn. Sleep deprivation is a form of torture for a reason. BTW- it's not just me. My husband is so tired that when I made him call the pediatric nurse (again) to make sure baby girl's random projectile spit up wasn't cause for concern (yes, they had already confirmed this), he literally could not answer how to spell our daughter's name. I'm not kidding. He asked me. While on the phone with the receptionist. And while I answered indignantly, I secretly had a moment of panic that we had spelled her name incorrectly at birth and scarred her for life. We are now officially in the running for Parents of the year at that office. Conclusion: No. Not really. At least not for 5 years or so. I'm just lucky I know my own name - most days.

Will I ever have a hot meal again?

My husband and I considered ourselves foodies. We ate out at trendy restaurants quite a bit, not because they were trendy, but because we read about the chefs, the mixologist, the menus, the farms, etc., and wanted to experience and critique the food and drink. We had a standing rule that we can’t order the same thing, because we need to try as much as possible. And we would write detailed reviews, cataloging our experiences. We would recreate some cocktails at home or be inspired to buy new spices to incorporate into our cooking. We cooked a lot. And we loved to entertain - with 4-5 course meals. Legit. Now. .. Now, I stand and eat over the sink most of the time. And I’m just grateful to have food in my mouth. I shovel in whatever leftover I can find. I don’t much care if it’s flavorful. I fold a piece of peanut butter toast into as small a square as possible, to minimize the time and effort of getting it all into my mouth. On the occasion that my husband or I can cook something, as soon as it’s hot and ready to eat, the baby will poop. And no one wins by letting that sit.

Forget food - As soon as I can actually just fix a hot cup of coffee, the baby’s spidey senses kick in and she will start screaming that she needs to eat. How dare I.

Conclusion: unlikely in this house. Maybe on date night. Whenever that is? And believe me, no one cares about ordering the same thing anymore. We are just mesmerized that someone is serving us, especially when there is a distinct possibility that one of us smells like old milk.

Special moments

Ah… don’t you love when your child has fallen into a seemingly deep slumber, with your boob in mouth, comfort suckling for a solid ten minutes, and when you go to pry your nip from the jaws of life grip, your child awakes, in a wide eyed panic, and starts screaming as if she has never been fed. Insert now raw nip, and start over.

C-Section: Did you know?

Did you know that after they cut you in half, while you are conscious (which is both insane and amazing) they let you start caring for a new tiny human life. Like - almost immediately. W.T.F. This is NUTZO. I never had major surgery before, or massive amounts of drugs, on little to no sleep (because doctors and nurses and visitors are in your room every hour-literally). I had also never cared for a newborn of my very own. Which is mind boggling stress even through a drug infused haze. She’s just in a plexiglass box at the foot of your bed. Is that really ok? Because you actually can not get up out of the bed on your own yet - maybe not for a few days. It’s like the medical community got together and said - how impossible can we make this on a scale of 1-10 and still convince people it’s do-able?? An 8? Ya, that sounds about right.

You are bleeding an ungodly amount and you probably don’t even have feeling back down there yet. So, you’re just wearing this big diaper and hoping you have a nice nurse who won’t leave you sitting in pools of your blood. One who isn’t overly ambitious about what you should try to do for yourself before they even take your IV out!? (This isn’t a contest…is it? Am I on the “survivor” ward?) When feeling returns, you are going to quickly realize they cut you open and moved organs around. And that leaves a mark. My husband told me,“I saw inside you”. I was confused, was he making a touching, emotional metaphor? No. He meant he literally looked over the curtain when he went to cut the cord and saw inside my body cavity. Sexy.

So we had a baby...

Ya. That happened. It was a physical and emotional roller coaster at every stage - from actually getting pregnant (9 infertility treatment cycles in 3 years), to believing the pregnancy would healthily sustain (3 miscarriages), to giving birth (required c-section delayed 6 hours, severe dehydration), to getting baby girl home (quick stop in the NICU for unexplained low blood sugars), and finally being “home” as a family (holy shit- we have a whole baby- all our own).

The posts are going to be a little different now. I'm still the C.H.O. (I think) but there's a new player on our team. And being in charge of her happiness is a whole new ball game.

Our politics, part 2

Hubs: Are you going to watch the debate tonight? (He’s traveling)

Me: No. It’s too depressing. I can’t.

Hubs: Oh come on, babe. Watch it. I want to talk to you about all the jokes and memes tomorrow. It’s the most entertaining thing on TV.

Me: You do know that it’s not an SNL episode? This is really happening - as the leader of the free world.

Hubs: ya, but it will be funny.

Our politics

Me: This election is SO depressing. I’m really scared of either option, and what’s become of our society.

Hubs: It makes me want to live off the grid. Especially now that I can stream concerts. Couch tour! We should just go off the grid.

Me: That was your deciding factor?? Phish couch tours are the deal breaker between being in society and living off the grid?!?

Sitting in the doctor's office reading this. And reflecting on MY morning - when I got in the car and realized my pants were on inside out. And debated, will anyone else notice that tag sticking out because to go all the way back in and fix this ... That's real pregnancy. I don't know WTF Blake Lively would know about it in 4 inch stilettos. Who does that?

Overheard at Work

Coworker: I finally went running this weekend. Me: From what?

Super Snoozeday

I really don't understand the HOURS of coverage predicting the primary results. This old guy on CNN is so annoying. It's not the weather?! It's not a mystery 8 ball?! What is with all the models and hypothesizing? It's just math. It will simply add up and then we will know. How about we just wait until the counting is done - in ONE HOUR. Can't we all just wait? This is why people give up on political coverage and lose sight of the real information on the issues. I'm going back to House of Cards.

Beyond suggestions and sympathy, the most important sentiment is support. 

A Cancer Survivor Designs The Cards She Wishes She’d Recieved From Friends and Family

Chick Fil A

Me: I wish we were near a Chickfila. Hubs: It’s Sunday, wouldn’t matter. Me: Oh ya- I always forget Hubs: that’s another problem I have with the whole Jesus thing. Chickfila is closed on Sundays.

Now THIS is therapeutic. Just hoping it's a framer when complete.

This Day

Maybe this is the day when: you finally get to the office bathroom -at 1:30 PM - & you realize your leggings are on backwards. The real bummer: maybe you were so excited that they seemed so big in the front when you put them on this morning - and so amply covered your belly - and you thought you must have lost weight. Just kidding. That’s actually the stretch of your big fat ass being on backwards. Now try taking off your riding boots in the bathroom stall and switching those leggings around.