My body is a wonderland. Ish.

Oh, post pregnant body is surely what inspired John Mayer.

(Speaking of: I say you can't get stoned, John Mayer. ME! That's who.)

Right after I had Olivia, I felt SO SKINNY. My stomach looked so flat on the top, and huge on the bottom. Like a big human butternut squash.



That looks awfully phallic, doesn't it? My abdomen looked like a giant flesh colored penis squash. Definitely inspirational. My uterus was huge and it was pulling everything down and making it appear that I was the Ohio version of Heidi Klum, except at least a foot shorter and with bigger thighs (ESPECIALLY when my milk came in...because RAWR).

Eventually my uterus got way smaller, and I was left with a belly full o'pizza dough. And somehow my thigh cellulite made its way up to my stomach. At around 8 months post partum, the doughyness started to disappear. But now my hips are moving back in and it is causing my belly to pop out in the most Three Months Pregnant fashion.

So, yeah. I look ridiculous. I don't really care that much because I am ridiculous. And every time I type ridiculous, I think of Balki Bartokomous.

Exhibit A: Don't be ridikalas, Cousin Larry.


Most disturbing, in my most humble and worthless opinion? Hair loss. When Olivia was three months old, I started losing hair. And for me to say that I was losing hair is serious, because I am basically a human Golden Retriever. But only in the hair loss department, not in any of the good desirable ways like loyal or friendly.

I really started going bald at my temples and my hair line went back about half an inch. So my movie theatre-sized forehead went to drive-in movie theatre-sized in the span of a month. This is the best picture I can find.


Title: In Which I Sport A Combover and A Bald Temple. (But Look At That BAYBEE! With Two Bald Parents, Bless Her Heart.)


And now all my hair is growing back, and I look like a chia pet. Here is a pretty good view of my itty bitty short hairs...


Today, my hair is really dry and so all the short hairs are sticking straight up on one side like some demented version of the Kate Gosselin haircut on the front of my head. It's really inconvenient because all of these men are swarming me and OH GOD I'M MARRIED (unless you are Robert Pattinson then YUM).

(Or Taylor Lautner)

(I'm seeing New Moon tonight.)

(I'm just gonna end this awkward post right here, mkay? Bai.)

Not the kind of baby weight I wanted to lose.

This may surprise you, but sometimes I make a big deal out of things that are totally not a big deal. I know. It's a very shocking revelation. I'm sorry if I sprung this on you at a bad time. I hope that you did not fall and hit your head or puncture your scrotum or twist an ovary.

Right.

Olivia had her 9 month well visit today. And she is well. Oh yes she is!

Howevever, she did lose weight. Which the pediatrician thought was totally uncool, especially since she is an itty bitty pretty one to begin with. Which prompted all sorts of questions about why I'm such a shitty mom, like do I feed her healthy foods? Does she eat enough formula? Does she seem happy? Does she poop and pee? Do I steal her food from her hand right before it gets to her mouth because I want to eat it because I am a total hoss?

OH MY GOD.

The problem is that Olivia was up with a runny nose until 2 last night. And I get up at 5. So I had three hours of sleep, a full work day, and then less than desirable news at the pediatrician. I'm using this as a free pass to be dramatic.

Woe is my skinny baybee! WOE! I feel like a bad mom, and other really ridiculous feeeeeeeelings! DRAMA! Want candy! Someone needs to gain weight around here, might as well be meeeeeeee!

So, the plan is to come back in a month for a weight check. This month, I need to do three of these four things:

1. Add an extra scoop of formula to her bottle.
2. Scoop some Crisco into her mouth before bed.
3. Add olive oil or butter to all her veggies, potatoes, anything I can lube up.
4. Try full fat yogurt and cheese.



Dear Internets...do you have any experience with this? Do you have any suggestions for fattening up my itty bitty baybee?

All the cool kids know Murgdan!

A while back, I asked you about your favorite blogs. A while back, like, the beginning of September. And some of you asked about my favorite blogs.

Look, I meant to get on this, like, three months ago, but then all kinds of stuff happened (no it didn't) and I got really bizzy (not really) and then I forgot (sort of a half truth here) and I've been up all night for weeks trying to make this happen (nope).

BUT, what I'm trying to say is that I'm going to try to show you my favorite blogs by bringing them to you via guest post. I'm going to try to do this once a week, but I make no promises since I am a lazy ass whore.

First up: Murgdan at Conceive This! If you don't read her blog, you should. She is funny and adorable and well-spoken and I've loved her blog for a long long time.

(Murgdan: Me love you long time.)

Jennepper Readers, Meet Murgdan.

-------------------------------------


I have arrived.

I have arrived because this guest post will appear on the first infertility blog I ever read. I didn’t find it by searching for things like “oh-my-GAWD-my-husband-has-wonky-sperm” or “we-need-IVF-so-I’m-drinking-alcohol”. I didn’t even google, “maybe if you just relax”. I actually searched for “Infertilty Humor” and ended up here. And I’m still here. So. That being said. The mere fact that I was even asked to guest post here means that I have arrived.

Most importantly, I have arrived pregnant. And needing clothes.

As an on-the-plus-side-but-hiding-it-well woman, I could have comfortably garbed myself in elastic waist pants since my last year of college. But, thanks to my official yet still unbelievable state of expectedness, I now have the official green light go ahead and purchase maternity wear, you know, legally.

I wouldn’t fit my belly into the ‘baby bump’ category just yet. While I don’t yet have a perfectly rounded bit of cuteness, my lower bit of what used to be squishy is slowly becoming more firm—which is awesome because I have always wanted rock hard abs. I’ll take what I can get. I love that for the first time in my life I don’t feel the need to ‘hold it in’, ‘suck it in’, or ‘tuck it in with an old lady girdle.’ I finally feel comfortable in this pregnancy and in my own skin.

Clothing-wise, I am frugal—and not too picky. I first made an attempt to purchase a lot of maternity clothes from a greedy maternity snob on Craig’s List. Craig needs a new list though—because this lady thought there was a difference between ‘used clothes’ and ‘only worn 3 or 4 times clothes’. I offered one hundred dollars for 20 items of used, as in previously worn, clothes, and she turned me down. “But I only wore some of this stuff a few times…I won’t take less than $150. I mean, it’s name brand stuff.” Name brand? It’s from Motherhood, bitch. I’m not trying to steal a deal on your Prada Armani Gucci Secret Belly Cashmere. You can drop that shit off at Goodwill, because for $150 I’ll buy my own new clothes and wear them 3 or 4 times and then sell them for 100 bucks myself.

I was off to the pregnant lady store--which was not an easy step. How intimidating is it to actually step foot inside a shop you’ve been rolling your eyes at for two years? Enough that I sat outside in my car for at least 5 minutes debating if I could put this shopping extravaganza off for just one more week. My bladder made the decision for me. I had to go in—now.

And there she was. Pregnancy Store Sales-Ho. Hunting me down faster than a used car salesman. Stop right there. “I just need one pair of jeans and a pair of work pants. That’s all.” Pregnancy Store Sales-Ho proceeded to show me at least 5 styles of pants, and introduce me to all my waist options. Over a pair of cords she exclaimed, “Oh my GAWD, and these are SO comfortable. I’m wearing a pair right now.” I gaze down at her belly. There’s not one. “Oh, I’m not pregnant. I just love the pants here.” What a strange perfect-bodied woman…who admits to wearing maternity clothes though she is not with child. Freak.

I picked out my pair of jeans and black work pants, and then headed to the restroom prior to trying on my long-awaited purchases. I am not quite sure what happened during my minute long trip, but I returned to a dressing room chock full of maternity pants, maternity t-shirts, and maternity sweaters. I was also given some type of strange fake pillow-belly that made me look like I was gestating an elephant—so I just trashed that under the chair. All I had to do to look 8 months along was stop sucking in—duh.

I was momentarily pissed off at perfect-bodied-maternity-wearing-sales-ho for putting so many things in my dressing room in an obvious attempt to trick me into buying a million dollars worth of stuff. Until I tried the stuff. And I liked the stuff. I was the best maternity customer ever. I bought every item she originally stuffed into the little curtained dressing room. Every item.

I love that these maternity clothes aren’t the flower-print empire-waist muumuus I imagined they would be. I am better dressed now than I have been in the last 3 years. Mostly, more than anything, I’m happy I have a perfectly good reason to wear clothes designed for pregnancy. I’m thrilled that I had a motive to even try them on. I’m ecstatic that I have cause to know the difference between a mid-belly an under-belly and a three-way belly.

Sometimes I don’t think this can get any better, but I have a feeling it will. Still, I’m not selling you my used name-brand clothes for anything less than $150, Craigslist. So don’t even try it.

38 Weeks, 6 Days

Mark posted this picture of us on Facebook. After I recovered from the brief horror of my unrecognizable ankles, I felt all nostalgic. It was about three weeks before we had Olivia. We were so excited! We had no idea what we were in for!

I loved being pregnant. I thought pregnant was the beez kneez.
Pregnant thought I was an asshole.

But I didn't care. Cankles, Gestational Diabetes, Preeclampsia, Second degree tear and all - I still loved it. I loved feeling her move all around. I loved watching her teeny little ass move along the top of my belly every night at 7. She was all mine then. Sure, other people could put a hand on my gigantor belleh and feel her, but I was the only one that knew her then.

I always thought I would be one of those people who went two weeks past her due date. I obviously thought very highly of my uterus, and assumed that I was running a Ritz-Carlton type of operation down there. Nobody would think of removing my baybee from my four star uterus! It's like a world class vacation resort in there!

As it turns out, I was running more of a Motel 6 operation. And the general idea was to get her out in one piece without giving her a wicked case of bed bugs or Hep C.

And so at 38 weeks, 5 days, I gave birth to Olivia. And now she is HUGE and about to take over the world.
But she would rather not be fully clothed, thank you very much.


Do not worry. She has not let her power go to her head - she's got a great sense of humor about things.
RUGS! LOLZ!


Today is 38 weeks, 6 days.
Who needs two more weeks of pregnant when we got to have two more weeks of you?
Happy Out Longer Than In Day, Olivia!
Pregnant was great, but it was nothing compared to Parent.
We are so glad you are here.

FET: makes me feel all stabby

I'm not sure if I ever mentioned to you how much I love Dunkin Donuts coffee.

But I love it, like, a lot. If it had a leg, it is possible that I would hump it. Or I would have to try really hard to refrain from humping it. Or I would only refrain from humping it because I wouldn't want to burn my Lady Business or waste the delicious coffee that would surely spill from the gyration of my lumpy body against that sexy styrofoam cup.

It's pretty much the Bon to my Jovi, is what I'm trying to say.

But I've been making monthly goals, and my goal since September was to stop getting Dunkin Donuts Coffee every morning because it costs $2/day.

I would share my other goals with you, but,
a.) I don't want everyone to know the asinine things for which I strive, like my number one November goal to Be Nice, OH MAH HELL WHO HAS TO RESOLVE TO BE NICE, and,

b.) because I don't really succeed every month (like, November. Because AM NOT NICE, like, at all, must aim lower in December - perhaps just be tolerable? Or just accept failure, which would be easier and markedly more enjoyable).

Anyway, I was telling someone the other day, "It's been a long time since I got a coffee from Dunkin Donuts. I just got one yesterday." And, don't worry, she did point out that I am possibly (definitely) the victim of a mental defect.

I was thinking today that it has been a really long time since I had an Infertility Bitterness Episode! Except, it hasn't been a long time at all really.

Since it's open enrollment time, I have to start making the big decision about doing a Frozen Embryo Transfer. And the prospect of it all just makes me a whole lot STABBY.

(I'm sure that if you read this blog, you know what STABBY means, but if not, see #1 here.)

I feel like I've done a pretty good job of suppressing The Bitter. I can handle pregnancy announcements pretty gracefully (like, no crying or shaking of fists at the heavens). Baby showers are not a problem. Accidental pregnancies make me roll my eyes, but do not cause days of insanity. It's just not really in the front of my mind. I'm more worried now about people whose asses fit in their jeans two weeks post partum when I can barely button my work pants.

(WHORES, you skinny people! All of you! Dirty whores!)

So I was kind of surprised when I got my Open Enrollment memo and was totally pissed off because I realized that we would have to decide on baybee #2 now for next year so that we can contribute to our medical reimbursement account.

Why do I so desperately want to be the person who can make fertility decisions at the drop of a hat? I've had plenty of time to realize that this isn't a reality for us. Why must there be so much turmoil and hand wringing and FIST SHAKING?!

I'm like a bad after school special, except instead of being jealous of the popular girls, I'm jealous of the fertile ones.

I'm pissed that I have to decide a year in advance, and I have to call doctors and rearrange my work schedule and communicate with my insurance and my doctors and I have to be really nice to people in November so that they will be more tolerable of me next spring when I am shooting up Lupron and shooting off The Angry.

It annoys me that people can decide one month to try to have a baby, then have sex, then find out the next month that they are pregnant. FOR FREE. WITHOUT DRUGS (well, I hear that crack really helps with fertility)! WITHOUT STIRRUPS! WITHOUT MEDICAL BILLING CODES!

God, I want to punch myself in the ovary over the whole ordeal, but there it is.
I'm sexual over Dunkin Donuts, and I'm angry about misshapen sperm.

My name is Jennepper, and I am full of The Giddy over New Moon

Random Thoughts:
What is the drawing in the classroom that has an ovary in its head?
I'm going to start choking people. By accident.
Anyone else think that Taylor Swift should be a brunette?
I want to molest Robert Pattinson.
Three weeks until I see New Moon.
I miss Will Ferrell.

Jennepper's Must Have Baybee Gifts for 2009

There are 8 weeks left before Christmas.

Listen, I know how hard it is to think of gifts for your preshus baybee - especially those pesky little 6-12 month-ers. Sure, they won't remember their first Christmas, and will be more interested in the paper and packaging and OHHHH LIGHTS than anything you actually buy.

But! We have an economy to stimulate here, people! And plus, you've got to spend more than the other mommies and then take a lot of pictures or else your preshus baybee will know that you do not love her/him. You're really just saving yourself the cost of much mommyhate therapy down the road. This is money that you can use for a tummy tuck or liposuction!

(Or, maybe just some tall brown boots?)

I've been diligent in my research, and am confident that I have come up with the Must Have Baybee Gifts for 2009.

Are you ready?
I don't think you are.
Sit down.
Prepare.
The greatness-ish of this list will be mind numbing.
Soul crushing, even.
Here we go...

Jennepper's Must Have Baybee Gifts for 2009:

Electrical Outlets and Cable Cords Fisher Price cannot create enough Colorful Baybee Junk to distract your preshus from outlets and cords. As soon as I sit Olivia down in a room? She crawls straight toward the cords.

This is a picture of her in her playroom, and if I had a wider lens, you would be able to see that Santa barfed all over the place and Olivia couldn't care less because ELECTRICITY! And RUBBER! And CHOKING HAZARDS ZOMG!

And lest you think that you will go all Scrooge McDuck and spoil Christmas by covering up the electrical outlets? HA.HA.HA. Because your preshus will LOVE fondling those plastic outlet covers. And you know what else? There is no childproofing solution that you can buy at Target to cover up the awkward cords sticking out of your wall.

(Dear Internet/Better Moms Than Me: is there a childproofing solution that I can buy at Target to cover up the awkward cords sticking out of the wall? Kthxbai.)

Dog Bowl

Nothing screams !!!Put Me In Your Mouth!!! like a bowl full of dog food laying on the floor. I think all babies love the petri dish appeal of the dirty dog bowl, but my daughter does especially since she grew up (for three days) in a petri dish at the Cleveland Clinic.

And really. We should have named her Typhoid Mary for the speed with which she infected our entire family with the Snot of the Century cold that lasts for three weeks. It is only fitting that she contract some sort of disgusting intestinal parasite from the dog dish and spread it to everyone.

My only hope is that I can maybe catch something that will help me lose 5 pounds. Illness is useless to me if I don't lose a little weight.

Blinds
Anything that hangs down is just generally fun to play with. Olivia loves the vertical blinds at our house, and at my mom's. Not limited to blinds, Olivia also loves to go after the dog's balls. Not the balls in the toy bin, either. I'm talking about testicles. Did you catch that? No? I'm talking about Dog Testicles. Testies, testies, one...two...three? Like that.

Yet another reason to neuter your dogs instead of buying more clothes for your baybee? I think so. But GAHD it is so much more tempting to shop Baby Gap.

Crib Bumper
Great for tossing around instead of taking A Lame Ass Nap, but also for completing the look of Bitch, Come And Get Meh NOW angst.
"I will cut you. Seriously. My fingernailz is longz."

Olivia has mastered the Big Girl Crawl. I'm thinking of putting her up for hire on Craigs List - you can pay me $100, and I will bring her over and let her find all of the horrible, rotten, no good, downright dangerous shit in your house.

"Am Comin ta getcha RAWR! Hide ur doggiez!"


What's on your Top Baybee Gift List of Death and Destruction for 2009?

I love an excuse to eat candy

Happy Halloween!!!!!!

As it turns out, I cannot stop taking Olivia for cheesy photo shoots and putting weird things on her head. Also? I cannot stop spending an unholy amount of money on said photos.

Olivia is going to be a ladybug for Halloween.



I'm going to be a First Time Mom Who Has No Sense of Style and Needs a Root Job and Possibly (Definitely) Some Lip Gloss. It was incredibly easy to put together.

Mark doesn't have a costume, but I think he should go as Flavor Flav. Or Dick in a Pumpkin.

What is your halloween costume?
Whatever it is, have a happy weenie!

The day I struck my mother blind with my Lady Business.

I wish I was kidding.

Last week, I went for my Annual Exam. For the Lady Business.

We all know that every Lady Doctor in Northeast Ohio has seen (and probably had an arm elbow deep in) my Lady Business in the past two years. But still. I've gotten kind of used to that region going back to being one of the least publicly viewed parts of my body. Call me crazy.

I was feeling a little apprehensive, and that was probably the reason that I almost crapped my pants when the nurse told me to take off all! my! clothes!

Nurse: Take off all your clothes and put on this gown.

Me: You mean waist down?

Nurse:No. ALL your clothes.

UGH! I hate when I ask those kinds of questions. If she meant waist down, she would have just said that, jerkstore. But who knows? Maybe she told me to take off all my clothes because she was bored, and how funny would it be if a patient was naked when the doctor came in muahahahahahaHAHAAAA!!!!!!!

For some reason, I have a strange fear that I will take off the wrong items of clothing. I'm afraid that I won't be paying attention, and they will tell me to take off my socks, and I will take off my bra instead. I believe it's along the same lines as my hiding my underwear neuroses (not aware of my underwear neuroses? Catch a glimpse here, and here).

So. I took off all my clothes, explained to both the nurse and midwife that no, I am not using birth control, and I do not plan to use birth control but hey! Thank you for your concern. And also? Let me school you on the difference between a fresh InVitro and a Frozen Embryo Transfer - no problem at all, because I totally enjoy futility! No, really, I look forward to explaining it to you next year!
I'm even willing to explain to you annually how 'transfer' is different from 'implant' and no, actually Jon and Kate did IUI so I wasn't really afraid that I would have 8 kids too but hahahaha YOU ARE DARLING, do you know that? Can I get a pap every month? Because this shit right here is the highlight of mah life.

I was so glad to put my Lady Business away and get home to mah baybee.
My Lady Business? She had other plans.

My mom stays at our house on Monday nights. She lives an hour away and watches Olivia on Monday and Tuesday, so it's just easier for her to spend the night and avoid an extra 2 hours in the car.

On a seemingly unrelated note, I've started taking baths with Olivia because she wants to drown herself and I am just so not down with that. So it's easier to restrain her and her death wish if I am in the tub with her. I don't believe I ever mentioned this to the Internet. Or to my mom.

I do have a point.

Since my mom was supposed to be in the basement using our treadmill, I left the bathroom door open while I was getting Olivia ready to get a bath.

And my mom...
My poor, sweet, innocent mom...

See, she didn't know that I was bathing WITH Olivia, so she thought that she would come up for bath time.
And I? I didn't know. I thought I had two floors of safety.

We decided to perform a brief reenactment to better describe the horror that followed...

Scene 1: I was completely nekked, bent over Olivia like this, taking her clothes off and just generally letting my Lady Business enjoy the scenery.



Scene 2: My mother innocently reaches the top of the stairs to see EVERYTHING. It was hard to hear her over the sound of her eyeballs bursting into flames and immediately turning to ash, but I think she said something to the effect of, "I DIDN'T KNOOOOOWWWW! AHHHHHH!!!!!"



And then we agreed to never speak of it again. Except to the Internet.
Mah Laydee Biznass: She can't be contained.

So, how 'bout that swine flu?

I had a few ideas for blog topics this week, but some of them required thought. And I have a cold. And it's been at least a week since I pissed off the Internet. So I'm going to leave this up to you and the comments section, and just hope that someone calls me a disgusting human being because I simply CANNOT HEAR THAT ENOUGH, thank you.

Here's the short of it: We aren't getting the H1N1 Vaccine.

The Swine Flu vaccine. I hate when people call it the Swiiiiine Flu. It makes me picture a pig with barf on its chin and snot running out of its nose. Which is gross and makes me afraid that I will stop having a love affair with bacon, that dirty sexy salty piece of pig ass.

So just call it H1N1, mkay?

(I realize this is not your problem, my weird mental images, but I've got to share it with someone and I choose you, Internet. I choose you.)

I do vaccinate, according to the AAP schedule. But we aren't a flu shot family. We don't get the regular flu shot, and we aren't getting the H1N1 either. And I can just hear the cracking of knuckles getting ready to rip me a new pig hole for not getting it, and to them I say:



I did some research, but really just never planned on getting it. I don't really think that it would hurt, but I also don't think it would help.

I know lots of people are undecided and want to hear both sides... Tell me, are you getting the H1N1 Oinky Oinky Ruin Bacon Enjoyment For Life Flu Vaccine? Or not? Why?