Why, hello there!
I keep meaning to post something, and then I don’t, and then the other night I couldn’t sleep so I started writing something, and then today I read it and it makes no sense, but not in a charmingly sleepy way. It was something about how Larry told me I was a great singer after I sang “Dumb Dog” (you know, from Annie) to Lulu, and then I got mad, and now he is very sad because I have vowed never to sing it again, ever, and has resorted to at least trying to get me to say the words “dumb dog,” which also has not worked.
Last night we went to childbirth class for the first time. We were supposed to go last week, but there was a storm coming that was supposed to have 80 mph winds, and the classes are held in a little trailer behind the hospital, so, no thanks. When I thought about going to class, I concentrated on dreading having to face the fact that a person will be coming out of my body soon, which fills me with terror if I think about it too much. What I did not consider was that the other people in the class would be rednecks.
There was lots of camo up in that trailer (naturally, I should’ve known!) and a lot of loud and swaggering men who thought they were hilarious. Here is a sampling of what occured:
–Our instructor asked us to tell her something about ourselves that would make her remember us. Most people just said what their jobs were (uh, including us) but one girl said, “Well, his last name is Pickle and pickles are my favorite food.” [Note: she didn't say that exactly, but it was something similarly dumb.] Another girl completely made my day by turning around and saying, “Well, as you can see, I am very beautiful.” She said that, out loud and everything. It was awesome.
–The men had to get in groups and make lists of things they can do to help their ladyfriends while in labor. Most were sweet, like “get her ice chips” or “rub her back,” but one group included “Don’t get mad.” The instructor asked what that meant. The guy said, “You know, don’t get mad if she goes into labor during a ballgame or something.” Another group put “light candles.” You know, in the hospital. With all of that nice oxygen around.
Larry and I did a pretty good job of keeping it together until we had to watch the video of the placenta coming out. We laughed like little children, little children who were recently told that right after they were born, their mothers also gave birth to large red hams. However, we did keep it together when we had to position our arms in classic middle school dance formation and sway back and forth while James Taylor sang “How Sweet It Is to Be Loved By You.” Seriously! We managed not to burst into flames and/or die. We are looking forward to next week, when apparently we get to sit in chairs like big boys and girls and not sit on the floor and breathe onto some feathers.
In totally unrelated news, you should know that Starburst now makes jellybeans, and for a limited time, you can purchase the Red Fruits mix, which is just cherry, strawberry, and watermelon. Watermelon sucks, but a whole huge bag of just cherry and strawberry? I have been ill all day from the handfuls I ate this morning.
Speaking of eating, this really sad thing has happened where if I eat one Dorito, or smell bacon cooking, or even think of a cheeseburger, my ankles get really big. Like, oh, you must have sprained…both of your ankles big. So I am trying to cut down on the sodium intake. I am coping by eating more sugar. I am sure my healthcare professional would approve.