Before we get to what we’re going to get to today, I just need to say WOW. That, and WOW again. You clicked BuenoBaby to number twenty-six!!! on Babble’s 2009 Top Mommy Blogger list! SQUEEEEL!!! Thank you for your votes and thank you for continuing to vote. I don’t know what else to say except if you ever need anything, say like help changing a tire or a Saturday night babysitter, well…I could probably do a Google search and point you to someone who does those things.
Because You. Are. That. AWESOME.
I wish you were here with me now so I could give you a big awkward hug, but since you’re not, I’m sending you an Internet hug…HUGS! You did make me feel all velvety inside.
O.K., now on with the business of over-sharing. Since I assume you stopped by today to read about things like Whitney’s raw upper-lip (caused by an endless river of snot this weekend), or how I was so high on post-delivery narcotics that I forgot to poop for eight days and had to go to the emergency room, I‘ll get right down to it.
Four years ago today, over my OB’s lunch hour, I delivered Whitney. I’m not going to tell you it was a hard labor, or that I threw beverages or small pieces of furniture at Ben. And I didn’t scream like a boiling lobster as I had, eight years earlier, during my natural childbirth with our first daughter, Lexi.
No, this time around, I had a scheduled induction, and a pain-free four hour labor, wrapped-up with only three minutes of pushing. My pelvis was so numb you could have stuck me in the hip with a hospital fork and I would’ve probably just asked whether or not you knew how long the cafeteria served lunch.
Oooh, wait, there’s a but. And a butt. And a latex glove.
We’re still reeling from the whole gorilla throwing crap incident from last week. The one involving that mother-effing monkey hurling its dung at my 3 year. So, while we’re trying to put that behind us, everyone gets sick and now I know G¬_d is punishing me for writing that sarcastic post. The post where I’m all, “Why is everyone so worried about the Swine Flu?” and not real dangers like flame retardants in our pajamas. (Also I wanted to take this opportunity to mention that since following Rabbi Shmuley on Twitter, I’ve decided to spell the word G-O-D like this: G_d. That’s how Rabbi Shmuley spells G-O-D. He also endlessly Tweets on his new Michael Jackson book. He’s a man of the cloth and a Michael Jackson aficionado, so I’m taking his lead on the whole G_d spelling thing).
