RRQ: A Birth Story

This is a birth story... therefore, there will be talk of dilation, fluids, and poop. I make no apologies for sharing the way my son was brought into the world, so this is your fair warning. Also? I am long winded by nature, and this is not a shortened version of that 17 hours. enjoy! 

I had been experiencing contractions for a few weeks, but they hadn’t yet been regular or painful by any means… still very sporadic. I went to my 39 week appointment on Wednesday (August 22nd) and discovered that I was 3cm dilated and 50% effaced, which was substantial progress from my check a week earlier. Like the previous weeks, he was still sitting extremely low as well. Due to my consistently high blood pressure, my doctor decided that she did not want me going far past my due date. She scheduled me for an induction on Wednesday, August 29th… which would give Ronin exactly a week to make his move.

We finished up the work week like normal, but by Saturday (August 25th), my contractions had slowed down to a dead end. I hadn’t had a contraction since Friday afternoon – I was convinced that this kid was just NOT coming out on his own and I’d end up having to be induced on Wednesday. I decided that I might as well take advantage of the day and ventured out for a manicure, pedicure, and eyebrow wax. I joked in the nail salon that an extended and intense foot massage might just send me into labor, and that I’d even pay extra for it. HA! I also went to GNC and picked up some Grandpa’s Pine Tar Soap, which was recommended to me to help with the itching from PUPPPS.

I got home in the late afternoon and lounged around the house until it was dinner time. We ate some shells & cheese and chicken tenders and watched some TV for a while. All of a sudden, I felt a contraction – FINALLY! The pressure continued for a little bit and then subsided, only to return a few minutes later. I let this go on for about 30 minutes before deciding that I should start timing them. At around 9:00, they were 6-7 minutes apart and lasting about 45 seconds long. I decided to get up and do some cleaning in hopes that they would continue and increase in strength… I was worried that they’d stop if I stopped moving. At around 10:00, Sean was starting to get a little worried, as the contractions were now getting harder to talk through. They were coming regularly and getting stronger, so I figured I’d get up and take a shower and pack some last minute items into the hospital bag.

We left for the hospital around 11:30 and I called my OB’s office on the way. The answering service paged the on-call doctor and she called me right away. As soon as I picked up the phone, I felt another contracting coming. She helped me breathe through it and when I told her that they were coming about 4-5 minutes apart, lasting a minute or so, and had been continuous for 3 hours, she gave me the go ahead to leave for the hospital (haha, too late, lady!). The car ride wasn’t too bad – I continued to contract, but I found that taking long, deep breaths really helped to work through them. I called my Aunt Susan (my mom’s sister) from the car and let her know that we were heading to the hospital, but that she shouldn’t leave the house until we know they will admit me. We arrived at the hospital and walked into labor and delivery right before midnight.

After I signed myself in and got all my bracelets, they set me up in triage with a monitor and blood pressure cuff as the nurse went through the laundry list of questions that they ask every time. This is when I handed over my birth plan to be placed in my file… which was not unreasonable by any means… just simple requests and preferences that I knew I’d forget had I not had them on paper. The nurse then checked my cervix – 4cm dilated. WOO! More progress (remember, I was sitting at 3cm only 3 days prior)! Unfortunately, the on-call doctor didn’t think it was impressive enough for me to be admitted, so she requested (via the nurse) that I walk the halls for an hour to see if I’d dilate any further.

Let me just say… that shit SUCKED. My contractions were coming even more quickly at this point and they were becoming unbearable. I could no longer talk through them and it was almost impossible to breathe through them without succumbing to tears. I was so angry that I had to walk around in a paper thin gown while stopping every 3-4 minutes to writhe in pain, despite the fact that 80% of the birthing rooms were vacant. I had a contraction bring me to actual tears while walking my last lap around the labor and delivery floor. We returned to our room in triage and were thankful to discover that I had progressed to about 4.5-5cm dilated – apparently that was enough for Dr. Lett to give me a room. HALLELUJAH!

Finally, at about 2:00AM, we were taken to our room. My Aunt Susan arrived around that time as well… she obviously decided not to wait until I was admitted to leave the house, haha. I was in extreme pain, both from the contractions AND the two back-to-back cervical exams (why doesn’t anyone ever talk about how painful these are?), and I was ready for some relief. I also knew that I had to try to sleep at some point if I wanted to have the energy to push this child out in a few hours. Needless to say, I asked for the anesthesiologist to come in and administer the epidural. I’m not sure how it is at other hospitals, but Sean was required to either sit in a chair right in front of me during the placement of the epidural, or he had to leave. He decided to take the latter option. I wasn’t nervous at all about the epidural, so it didn’t bother me one bit. The anesthesiologist came in around 3:00AM and I was sitting pretty and pain free in a matter of 20 minutes or so – I didn’t feel a thing and it took effect immediately (aka the perfect scenario possible). Sean’s parents had also arrived during this time.

The rest of the morning/day was a bit of a blur. Once the epidural took effect, a catheter was inserted to collect my urine, which of course, I didn’t feel at all. I wanted to try and sleep, but I didn’t have much luck. Because of the numbness of my lower half, I kept thinking that my foot was asleep. I would try to shake it out to “wake it up” only to discover that it was still tingly. Between Sean’s snoring, my blood pressure cuff tightening every 20 minutes, and the nurses/staff coming and going, sleep was just not in the cards for me.

My new nurse, Stacy, arrived in my room at about 6:15AM – she was early for the shift change, but wanted to come in and introduce herself to me. I loved her right away – she was telling me how she couldn’t believe I made it to 5cm before getting pain medication and that she was begging for it by 3cm with her last child… which was also her SEVENTH child. SEVEN children were birthed by this woman and she was complementing me on my strength. BFFs, folks. Anyway, she checked my cervix and I had only progressed to 6cm since having the epidural (3 hours ago). I should also mention how bizarre it was to have my vagina man-handled and to NOT FEEL ANYTHING. So weird. She said she’d call Dr. Lett and let her know, since she should be coming in soon anyway.

At that point, the family came back in to chit chat and hang out. I called my dad (I had called him on the way to the hospital also) to give him an update and he said he’d head up to the hospital in a little while. The on-call doctor, Dr. Lett (who is not my OB, but she rotates rounds with her) arrived around 7:30 and introduced herself and we chatted about how things had been going up until then. She performed a cervical check… I was STILL only at 6cm after relaxed laboring for 4.5 hours. Ronin’s head was completely flush against my cervix, which meant that breaking my water was not an option because she could harm him with the tool used. She suggested starting a Pitocin drip in order to increase the strength of the contractions and help dilate me more quickly. I gave her the A-okay and Pitocin was added to my IV at around 8:30AM (12th hour of labor).

To be honest, my labor was REALLY boring. I just sat in the bed and played on my phone, talked to several family members who were visiting, and keeping friends updated via text. Dr. Lett came in a few hours later (maybe 10:30AM) to check again. To my dismay, I had not progressed at all. However, Ronin had moved and his head was no longer against my cervix, so Dr. Lett made the decision to break my water. I didn’t feel the actual sac break, but I did feel the fluid leak out.

Once my water was broken, my contractions went into overdrive. They were so intense that I started to feel them again. I didn’t know if the epidural was wearing off or if it just wasn’t strong enough. Either way, I was beginning to feel pain and I did not want that. Sean called for Stacy, who then rang in to the new anesthesiologist who was on shift to up the meds or give me something else entirely. She administered Fentanyl through the epidural port and it was heavenly. I don’t know what medicine I had through there before, but this shit was amazing. I was finally able to get about an hour of sleep after that.

Dr. Lett came back into the room at around 12:00 to check again and HALLELUJAH, I was at 9.5cm! Thirty minutes later, I was fully dilated to 10cm. I had a little bit of a freak out moment at that point… I was going to finally meet my son after taking care of him inside of me for 9 long months. I knew I was ready, and the thought of seeing his sweet face brought me to tears. It was just so surreal that we were going to be parents.

The doctor raised the bed and propped my legs up so that we could try a few practice pushes. Stacy was holding my left leg and another nurse was called in to hold my right leg. Sean counted to 10 during each push and encouraged me the whole time. After the third or so push, she told me to stop pushing because she could see his head starting to come down and she had yet to set up her table with the tools she needed and whatnot. She also noticed that my fluid had changed color, which meant that Ronin had passed a bowel movement before making his exit. Yep, my kid pooped in me. It’s totally normal and happens all the time, but the NICU team would have to be called into the room to assess him just to make sure he didn’t ingest any of the fluid.

While the staff got ready for me to deliver, Sean and I just looked at each other and talked about how he was going to be here so soon. The doctor rolled out a table with various tools and put on her mask and scrubs. She told me to let her know when/if I was feeling a contraction and she’d have me push. I glanced at the clock… it was 12:45PM. I was feeling a contraction coming (just the pressure, not the pain) and they told me to go ahead and starting pushing. I pushed three times per contraction, and was administered oxygen through a mask between contractions. After only 45 minutes of pushing (about 6-7 contractions), Ronin Robert made his way into the world. It was the most amazing thing I’ve ever done in my life, and as soon as he emerged, I lost it… sobbed like… well, like a baby. I looked up to see that Sean was crying too.

The NICU team took Ronin right away to the little newborn set up in the room. I cried listening to his cry and I remember telling Sean it was the best thing my ears had ever heard. They only had him for 2 minutes before letting me know that he was absolutely perfect. They called Sean over to cut the cord and then brought him over to me all bundled up. They were right… he WAS perfect, and easily the most beautiful little being I had ever laid eyes on. He made eye contact with me right away and was so alert for just having been born. Although I had never met him before that moment, he was familiar to me… like I had known him my whole life. It was love, instantly.

THE END.

As for the dirty details, there aren’t many. I sustained a natural 2^nd degree tear, and I barely felt it when the doctor stitched me up. While she was working on my repair, I asked the important question: “did I poop?” And thank the baby jesus, I did not (note: pooping while pushing a baby out of your vagina is really common, but I didn’t want to be one of those people for any other reason than knowing my big mouth husband would tell the entire world). I didn’t feel much during afterbirth either. All in all, I had a breezy labor experience, and although the pain of healing has been less than desirable, I’d do it again in a heartbeat to have this tiny human. He is the love of my life. 

our last photo as a family of two - taken about 5 minutes before push time!

love at first sight, for real. 

our little seal. 

39 week appointment update

so I had a regular OB appointment this morning.
a few things I wanted to mention to my doctor:
- the ever lasting itching of my belly (which is now joined by raised bumps within my stretch marks);
- Ronin's decreased movement (he's still moving, but not nearly as much as he has been throughout the pregnancy... I've chalked it up to him running out of room, but wanted to make sure);
- and I wanted a cervical check (to make sure these contractions are actually doing their job).

so, an update to those specific issues, in bullet form:

- the itching belly started about a week and a half ago. I mentioned it to my nurse practitioner at my last appointment, and she just shrugged it off as a normal pregnancy symptom. I spent the next week trying to combat the itch with hyrocortisone topical cream, calamine lotion, cocoa butter, and tea tree oil. they all provided temporary relief, but when the itch eventually came back, it was just as miserable (if not more) than it was before applying the cream, lotion, butter, or oil.

I decided I didn't want to just blow it off, so I brought it up to my OB this morning. turns out... itchiness + raised bumps = PUPPP. she prescribed me an oral steroid that I have to take for 5 days, and it should help. woo to the freaking hoo... I can't WAIT to have some relief from this shit. it is misery. absolute MISERY.

- she sent me to labor and delivery to monitor Ronin's movement. as expected, he made me into a liar by doing somersaults and showing off for the nurse in triage. also? I could listen to this kid's heartbeat all day everyday and never get sick of it. I'm going to miss that part of being pregnant.

- as I mentioned in my 39 week bump watch post, I was a fingertip dilated at my appointment on Friday (I know, I know... you're all very curious as to what the status of my cervix is). she checked me again today, and said I was 50% effaced and 3cm dilated - holy cow, talk about PROGRESS! I am so happy to know that my body is doing what it's supposed to do and that these contractions are not for nothing.

however... on the back end of that awesomeness: my doctor does not want to let me go very far over my due date because of my continuously high blood pressure. she's worried that it will get too high if he decides to take his time, which will probably lead to a C-section. so with that said, we have an induction scheduled for next week (waiting to hear from labor & delivery on the date, but it will be either Wednesday or Thursday) if he doesn't make his way into the world on his own. I've been scared of being induced since the beginning of this pregnancy, so obviously I'm hoping he gets his shit together before next week. personally, I think he'll be here by the weekend, but I've learned that I am officially on HIS schedule now, so I'm not holding my breath.

so that's where we are now... just waiting for him to make his move. after my appointment (and subsequent internal exam), I had some serious cramping going on. it was so intense that I was really convinced the exam had done something to jump start my labor. let's just say that I am thankful to have absolutely no qualms about receiving an epidural, cause I am a big old wuss. I was in so much pain just after a simple cervical check and here I am getting ready to push a watermelon out of my vag. bring on the drugs, damnit.

hammer time [TMI with photos]

this is going to be a pretty gross post, so I apologize in advance. 

fact: I have ingrown toenails. I've had to deal with them my ENTIRE life. when they start to hurt, I cut them out myself, which has been working great as a temporary relief plan. recently, they've been hurting much worse than normal, so I decided to make an appointment with a foot doctor (I don't know if he's a podiatrist or not, so foot doctor is good enough) last week. 

I went in thinking "oh, they'll give me some cream or make an appointment with me in a few weeks to do something about it." wrong. he decided the best idea would be to go ahead and take care of them right then and there. "take care of them" meaning to cut them out completely. 

so they shoved a bendy type needle into my big toes (yes, both of them) and pumped them so full of some kind of numbing medicine that made them look full of fluid and swollen. and then they used that pre-surgery dye, which made them look very Shrek-like. thankfully the numbing solution kicked in almost immediately. 

I concocted a little drawing in Paint to demonstrate exactly what they did to my poor toes:

basically, they cut the nail at the root to prevent it from growing downwards again. based on what the doctor said, I think the skin will grow back over the part that was removed. at least I hope that's what will happen, haha! 

they're still pretty sore, but it looks like they're healing up. I mean, I guess they are. I keep them bandaged at all times, except when I shower and clean them out with antibacterial soap. I'm not gunna lie, they look pretty rough though. Sean keeps calling me hammer toes, hence the title of the post.

for your viewing pleasure/disgust, here are some pictures I took with my cell phone - they're pretty nasty, so if you're eating lunch or are queasy about feet, it's probably best to just close out of this window.

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right after the numbness injections. SHREK FEET!

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after they cut the toenail out of the right toe. eeks!

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all wrapped up and ready to go!

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so yeah. needless to say, I've been in quite a bit of pain since Thursday. they told me to try to stay off my feet as much as possible that evening. I'm glad I went straight home because I got home, took my shoes off, and realized that the gauze around my right toe was completely saturated with blood. I had to put my feet up for a good 2 hours before it finally clotted up. 

poor me, I know.  

oh, and this morning, I knocked the iron over. on my foot. that was awesome. 

Happy Monday?

off sleeping, will be back in 8754 hours.

It seems as though I've developed a bit of a summer cold. well, more than a summer cold actually... it's bronchitis. I'm pretty sure I'm the only person who gets THIS fucking sick in the middle of summer. it's absolutely ridiculous how horrible I feel. I feel constant pain in my chest, and it's even worse when I cough. I can't stand without feeling lightheaded, and my throat is on fire. needless to say, I've been trying to get plenty of rest. oh, and I haven't showered since Monday. I feel disgusting.

I started feeling sick on Sunday, and limited my activity to just doing things around the house. our neighbors were having a cookout, but I decided to stay in... mostly so I wouldn't get anyone else sick. Monday, I felt much much worse, and laid around all day. Tuesday was even more horrific, and after attempting to go to work, I left early and went to the doctor. She prescribed me antibiotics and cough syrup with codeine.

You'd think that codeine infused syrup would knock my ass out, but it didn't. I finally fell asleep Tuesday night around midnight and woke to my phone ringing at around 9:40... it was my dad calling to see if I was coming to work. He'd been sick over the weekend as well, and he had his day of complete rest on Tuesday. I told him I was taking a day off, and I got up, did some moseying around the house, and took a dose of cough syrup around noon. My ass slept until about 6:30 this evening. I don't feel much better, but I feel more rested, that's for sure. my throat is still killing me, and I'm still coughing up big chunks of bright green goodness.

I haven't decided on whether or not I'll be going to work tomorrow. I guess it depends on how I feel when I wake up. Just wanted to give everyone a heads up of why I haven't been around. and I'm really keeping my fingers crossed that the hubs doesn't get sick... he is such a miserable baby when he doesn't feel good. I guess I can't say anything, he's been taking really good care of me. :)

OH, and if you're feeling up to it - go here and vote for LiLu to be the first ever MTV VJ! if you need more details, click on her picture at the top of my sidebar. Dooooooo it!

handicap bathrooms are not the safest option (TMI, yet hilarious)

since our kitchen is covered in dust and half our kitchen equipment is still in our entryway, we've been eating out A LOT. we try to keep it healthy with Subway and whatnot, but last night, we were both craving Italian cuisine. we headed down to a little hole in the wall nearby called Mama Lucia's, a big favorite of ours.

after we finished with dinner, we decided to stop by Giant to pick up a few things... kitty litter, card for a birthday, some nasal spray, among some other items. as we're browsing the aisles, I feel the rumblings. the rumblings that I mentioned in my second blog post ever. I typically have the rumblings after every meal, and the meal I had prior to our grocery store visit was a little greasier than I'm used to (stuffed shells, in case you were curious).

I clenched as we kept walking, and hoped it would go away so I could poop in the comfort of my own bathroom. within 2 minutes, I knew I wouldn't be having the pleasure of a home bowel movement. the rumblings of my loins were getting painful, and I quickly broke out in a sweat. I shoved all my picked up items in Mr. FoFandee's arms, and told him that there was NO WAY I was going to make it home, and I brisk walked my ass right into the bathroom.

as my luck would have it, the first three stalls had pee or toilet paper filled toilets, and I had to take my last option - the handicap stall. I don't know about anyone else, but I love the handicap stall - it's nice and roomy, and it's usually got a good stash of toilet paper... especially in a grocery store, where I imagine it's not used often.

so I go about the binness and let 'er rip. it wasn't so much an assplosion, but it wasn't pretty either. I performed the courtesy flush, just in case someone else happened to walk in... I would hate to have someone walk into THAT stench. I finish up pretty quick and flush away.

as I got to leave the stall, I turn the little handle on the door, and push open the door... except... it doesn't open. I turn the little knob 180 degrees in the opposite direction (counterclockwise), and it still doesn't open. the little latch that goes into the socket of the stall DOES.NOT.BUDGE. I freeze. what the FUCK am I going to do? there is no way in hell that I was climbing UNDER the stall, and therefore touching the nasty ass floors. no fucking way. I keep trying to turn the knob and that little bastard latch does not move, at all. I swear to god, I was going to find a way to climb OVER the stalls before I was going under them.

after about 10 minutes of fucking with that handle, and being about 30 seconds away from having a mental breakdown, I called Mr. FoFandee, who was still in the store... probably just waiting for me and thinking that I'm taking a huge dump. the conversation went a little like this:

Mr: what the hell are you doing in there?
Me: you have to help me.
Mr: uhhh... I don't think there's much I can do to help you out in there...
Me: I'm... locked in the bathroom... the handicap stall to be precise.

:insert hysterical laughter:

Me: it's NOT funny! I'm terrified in here. I'm not crawling under the door, so just come in here and get me out.
Mr: I can't come in there, it's a girls bathroom!
Me: I'm sure they'll make an exception if you're rescuing your imprisoned wife!
Mr: maybe I'll just get someone to help... and suggest that they announce it on the loud speaker that some fucking idiot locked herself in the handicap stall.
Me: thanks for the support... really. I swear, I've jiggled this handle for the past 12 minutes and I can't get the door open!

and finally, after another 3 minutes or so of fiddling with the damn handle, it finally opened. THANK GOD. I was sure they were going to have to call the fire department or some shit... I would be on the news as the local girl who was stupid enough to lock herself in a public bathroom stall. jesus. I made sure to inform the check out boy at the register that there is some serious defect with the handicap stall, and that I was near death trying to get out of there. he didn't think it was too funny... instead just looked at me all weird like I'm some kind of fucking psycho.



so. how was YOUR Tuesday night?








DISCLAIMER: this blog is not meant to offend any person or persons who use the handicap stall in public bathrooms, nor is it meant to offend anyone who is handicap or frequently locks themselves in public bathroom.

riddle me this

I have an irrational fear of being hit by flying objects... more specifically, baseballs and hockey pucks at sporting events. I'm also one of those idiots who, when seeing a flying object coming towards my windshield, I duck. inside my car. where the flying item cannot touch me.


I'm pretty sure that I'm -----><----- this close to having a heart attack every time the Caps play. including right now.


I have a pimple popping addiction. it's gross, I know, but I can't help it. sometimes I rub Mr. MandeeFoFandee's back just to feel for bigguns that I can squeeze. it also helps that he squirms like a little girl every time I get a good one.


when people talk to me about their kids, I automatically think of a similar story I could tell involving my cats. I always compare their kids' actions to something my cat(s) did at one point in time. I'm always telling people about stupid shit my cats do, and how hilarious it was. I don't think anyone really gets it but me, haha.


I am completely and utterly freakedthefuckout by fruit flies.




alright, that's all I got right now. the Caps game is gettin' serious and I need to pay attention. night, bitches!

peroxide stings, fyi... and a little TMI.

maybe it's just me, but Sundays don't feel like Sundays without football. and maybe it's just me, but I totally don't give two shits about the winter Olympics. I mean I get the whole "support your country's team" and all that jazz, but I don't care enough to sit down and watch every.single.fucking.event. it's just not exciting to me at ALL.

it's been a pretty productive weekend in the MandeeFoFandee household. Sean went to the Wizards game Friday night, so I took advantage of my alone time by watching all the DVR shows that he prefers not to be forced into seeing, aka Project Runway and 4 episodes of American Idol. speaking of Project Runway, I'm loving the challenges this season! Amy is definitely my favorite so far, as well as Seth Aaron. I'd be happy to see either of them win.



Saturday, we met with the accountant for my company so he could do our taxes. it's our first year filing jointly, so I was kinda excited about it (nerd? yes). turns out, we should be getting a good amount back and may even qualify for a bigger return since we installed new windows and insulation in the house... now I just have to find the invoices to see how much of the possible $1500 write off we can get! we spent the rest of the day being lazy and watching shows on DVR, including the new episode of Spartacus Blood & Sand. love.this.show.

now onto the point of this post. sometime during the day on Saturday, I had an incredible itch... coming from my butt crack. now I'm not talking about deep in there near the balloon knot or anything... but just right at the top of my butt crack. so naturally, I rubbed/scratched it until it stopped itching. well later on in the evening, I stepped outside to smoke a cigarette and sat on our front step. all of a sudden, I felt a really sharp pain... in my crack. so I reached back there and touched the area that was itchy earlier... ouch! I came inside and informed Sean of my ailment. I asked him to look at it, which he clearly hesitated, haha. so I turned the living room light on, pulled down my sweatpants (fact: unless I leave my house, I wear sweats ALL weekend long), and spread em. okay, it's not like I put much force into it, but a little spreading had to be done. after looking at my ass for a good 10 seconds, I hear

"EWWWWWW! it's all pink and raw! what the fuck did you DO to your ass?!!"

trust me - if there was someone else there to examine my ass, I would have surely asked them instead of my husband. immediately I pulled up my pants and told him to forget it and I'd just take care of it myself. which I did. with hydrogen peroxide.

so I went into the bathroom, and for my husband's amusement, left the door open. I pulled my pants down just passed my ass cheeks and sat in the sink... poured some peroxide on a cotton round and squeezed it so that it would run down my crack. OUCH. I started screaming like Thurman Merman when he cuts his hand making Bad Santa's wooden pickle. it was bad. instead of comforting me in my moment of extreme pain, my husband whips out his cell phone to take a picture of me. lovely.

Thurman Merman & the Wooden Pickle

I was determined to clean the crap out of the house today, but when I woke up, I was feeling SO lazy. I laid around for a while, until Sean came in the living room armed with the Swiffer Wet Jet in hand. I figured if he's gunna start cleaning, I should probably help... otherwise I know I'd hear about it for a month. so I did the dishes, wiped down all the kitchen counters and the stove. then I tackled the bathroom - wiping down the sink and the toilet, and then scrubbing the tub. Sean took care of the living room... sweeping and Swiffering, and then vacuuming the couch and pillows. I'm so happy I got off my ass... I love hanging out in my house when it's spic & span.

Bear loves clean couches as much as his mama does.

I took a 2 hour long nap after our cleaning spree, and then woke up to Sean baking cookies. apparently I married Betty Crocker. this man loves sweets more than any chick I've ever met. I gotta give it to him though - the cookies were deeeelish.

nom nom noms.

in case you're wondering, the butt is healing nicely. it's a little scabbed today, which is good. yes, it still hurts, but I'm done with that peroxide noise. I also told Sean that if he told anyone or showed his cell phone pictures to any human being, I would be filing for divorce... after our tax return, naturally.

so. how was YOUR weekend? any butt injuries?

Craptastic (TMI Alert)!

WARNING: If you are not comfortable talking (or even reading) about the gloriousness that is a good bowel movement, do not read any further.

If the curiosity is killing you, however, please do read on.

First, I'd like to mention that I had the day off yesterday, so naturally, today felt like Monday. I got up (late, as usual), showered, brushed my teeth and went about my morning routine. I stopped at the 7-11 near my home, and picked up a 20oz coffee and two bottles of Dr. Pepper, as usual. Paid with my check card, as usual.


Mmm. Delish.

I drove to work, listened to Elliot in the Morning on DC 101, as usual. Got to work, and got settled in, which consists of checking my work email, checking my personal email, checking in on The Nest, checking Facebook, and reading the new blogs that appear on my Google Reader (and commenting accordingly)... all while sipping my delicious 20oz cup of sugar, with a little coffee and creamer added. Totes usual.

And as usual, about 20 minutes after I finished my coffee, I felt the rumblings. The monster rumblings of my daily morning bowels. This is part of my daily routine. I drink my coffee, and then I poop, and then I'm ready to take on the day that is upon me and make it my bitch.


Yep. I own this book.

Something about these rumblings was not normal. I didn't have the strength in my abs to let it "marinate" like I usually do. I like to let it simmer for a bit before I actually go to the restroom, so that it involves the least amount of pushing as possible. I told you, I have a routine, and damnit, I stick to it! This demon inside of me would not allow for the marinating period. I had to rush to the bathroom to do the binness.

As I sit on the toilet (I should also mention that I work in a very small office, consisting of a total of 5 people, including myself, and we only have one bathroom), I could tell that this was not going to be the usual "sit, relax, wipe" session that I have on a daily basis. What erupted from my body was the fiery passion that once was an entire bag of pistachios that I consumed over the long weekend. It burned. It splattered. Most importantly, it was NOT quiet, which is totally NOT usual.

Now, if you know me, you know I'm not shy about my bowels (obviously). But this was an ASSplosion. I was imagining my poor coworker in the office outside the bathroom cringing (and possibly laughing) as the demon escaped my rear end. It was nuclear. I tried to be quiet about it, I really did. I tried to let just a little out at a time, I tried running the sink water to mask the sound... it just was NOT happening.


THIS is what occurred in my workplace toilet.

Finally, I'm done. I wipe, wash my hands, open the window, spray a copious amount of flowery smelling Lysol, and I leave the bathroom... making sure to shut the door behind me. I even considered making a sign, warning coworkers not to enter the bathroom for at LEAST 20 minutes. I'm telling you - that shit was hazardous.

And as usual, I walk outside to have my post-bowel cigarette. I'm puffing away, enjoying the beautiful weather that has recently graced itself upon Maryland, and it hit me again. Those fucking rumblings. I thought "eh, I just went... there's no way I have to go again ALREADY," and I attempted to finish my nicotine stick. Was.Not.Happening. I flicked the cherry off my cigarette and sprinted to the bathroom. (Insert another descriptive ASSplosion here).

This inconvenience happened to me FOUR times today. FOUR TIMES! I couldn't believe it. I'm a pretty regular shitter, and I go usually about two times a day. And those two times are NORMAL, not the painful diarrhea I experienced FOUR TIMES today. I know it's the pistachios and all their deliciousness.


Mmm. Come here, my pretties.

I should probably mention that I consume an ungodly amount of pistachios if I get my hands on them. I generally buy two bags at a time, and finish a bag in a matter of days. I eat about a 16oz cup worth of shells at each sitting... unless my mouth burns from the salt before the cup is full. I'd like to say that my hellish poops today will caution me from devouring pistachios in the future, but I know it won't.

Perhaps I should take after LiLu and start a weekly TMI post. TMI Tuesdays? I guess it fits.



... that's what she said.