I have some really bizarre dreams and desires. Sometimes (okay often), I watch QVC and fantasize about becoming a QVC host. The passion with which these people highlight the features and benefits of wonderful and not-so-wonderful products is awesome. Yes, their passion and finesse in the art of bullshitting inspires me with awe. I want to be one of them.
Another odd aspiration of mine is to end up on STFU, Parents. Perhaps I’m not quite snarky or weird enough on Facebook or Twitter to achieve this mission. You will never see a placenta print from me (click if you dare!) You will also never see a pic of a newborn emerging from my nether regions, because that pic doesn’t exist. There are, however, several occasions a month my mind does an internal mommy-jacking while scrolling through the Facebook feed, although I can never bring myself to type my thought and hit enter. So, to vent, here’s a mildly irritating listicle of my recent STFU-worthy thoughts, if only I were willing to share in a more organic fashion:
- I recently visited the doctor for a sinus infection, where she asked me to rate my pain on a scale of 1 to 10. How does that pain scale even make sense now that I’ve experienced two childbirths with abysmal epidurals? Those forceps were something from a nightmare. Each subsequent instance of pain has been a 2 relative to those experiences.
- Dear, sweet, handsome husband: I made these children. I grew them in my body, delivered them into the world, and fed them from my body for a year-ish each. Okay, okay, you helped. You contributed one haploid cell. I contributed one haploid cell and billions of diploid ones (I know you’re gonna read this, dude. Don’t be mad, we’ve had this conversation. I’m just teasing. But it’s totally true.)
- Aww, your husband likes to pamper you with breakfast in bed because you’re pregnant? Try being pregnant with an older kid running around snotting on everything. My husband entertaining the toddler so I could be nauseous and vacuum the house in peace was a virtual day at the spa.
- You’re having a hard time taking your dog for a walk while you have a cold? I really feel for you. Almost as bad as a few weeks ago when my ENTIRE FAMILY had viral gastroenteritis. The worst is when you’re dizzy and can’t keep anything down and you’re trying to shampoo the freaking carpet while your 3-year-old is arguing the merits of only vomiting on the floor, because “it’s not fun” to vomit in the toilet. Needless to say the dog took care of herself that week. She almost cooked dinner because she felt so bad for us.
- While I’m usually pretty modest when told how cute my kids are, I truly think they’re in the top two percent worldwide in the looks department. What can I say? Heredity is a powerful force. Also their vocabulary is to die for.
- The days I get to dress in actual professional attire, get in the car, and go to the office? Also like a day at the spa.
- I’m tired, so I’m going to end this listicle. I really need a break while the kids nap. I think I’ll go do a relaxing load of laundry.
Tweet me @ksenapathy or comment below with your secret or not-so-secret Mommyjacking, sanctimommy, or other STFU, Parents-worthy notions!
Featured image, © 2014 Kavin Senapathy
Love #4. When my son would get sick I would leave a little wastebasket next to the bed in case he couldn’t make it to the bathroom in time. One time when I got he started crying so bad I couldn’t understand him. After calming down he explained that he didn’t like the wastebasket because it made him sick.
I’ve discovered that my dog loves the taste of baby vomit, so when we were all sick last fall I just let him do the cleaning. Floor gets cleaned, dog gets fed. Parenting win.
I have always questioned that “1-10” scale for pain. First, it’s individually scaled, so your 2 and my 2 would be some people’s 8 or 9. Second, it’d need to be logarithmic to be useful, because as you mentioned, every pain you have no compares in no way to your past pain during childbirth. For me, it’s the feeling of having hit a tree skiing and breaking both my legs, FOLLOWED by the feeling of lying on one of those super uncomfortable XRay tables while someone straightened my broken leg as I screamed in pain and blacked out (and I’m pretty sure that was no worse than what you had to go through for longer during childbirth)
It just seems so silly to try and figure out if there’s a problem based on how stoic someone is, or whether they’ve experienced serious pain in the past.
I like the more accurate pain scale that Hyperbole and a half came up with:
http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/2010/02/boyfriend-doesnt-have-ebola-probably.html
Next time I have a migraine I’m going to take it to my doctor.
Since I’ve been trained to make other people comfortable, my standard reply was (I’m getting better at this) “everthing is OK”. If something was very, very, very painful, like childbirth, I would say “Uhm, I think this hurts a little”. Honestly, my midwife almost missed the birth of my second child because from how I acted and what I told her she never thought that OMFG it’s already crowning!!!
My wisdon teeth were traumatic. The first one just wouldn’t get out, if got infected while I was waiting for an appointment with a surgeon, it got so bad that normal painkillers became ineffective, the local anaesthesia didn’t work anymore so I had to wait ANOTHER 2 days for a general and then the feedback I got from the surgeon with the follow-ups and the extraction of the second tooth was that I was “cheerful and relaxed and it was a pleasure working with me”.
How on earth do I rate childbirth and wisdom teeth and everything else compared to that, especially if deep down I believe that anything above five would be impolite as long as I am still alive?
These are great. My first “day at the spa” moment after my son was born was going to the dentist. Seriously, I was able to read a magazine in the waiting room, and then reclined on that super comfy chair. I’ll never forget how relaxed I felt.