Category Archives: Kinda Sketchy

Hubby Hahas: Motivation to get out of bed


Hubby Hahas

Last week I was having a really mopey day. This is how my hubby motivates me to stop moping and get out of bed…

Kinda Sketchy Hubby Chats
Kinda Sketchy Hubby Chats
Kinda Sketchy Hubby Chats
sketchyinthebed04atxtwm
Kinda Sketchy Hubby Chats

(Muppet is our dog’s name, in case you were confused.)

Today is our 11th wedding anniversary. Visit this post from our last anniversary for links to all of my “hubby” posts including 2 “Hubby Chats” vlogs where you can learn useless crap about us like, how we met, our first date, and other stuffs.

(Stuffs is plural on purpose. Cuz it’s fancy.)

What motivates you to get out of bed?

I Make Myself the Queen is an itty-bitty newborn blog. Please be gentle with it, wash your hands before touching it, and be sure to come back often to tell it how cute it is!

immtqesub01_7
Read my family blog www.coolestfamilyontheblock.com where I pretend to be a good mom.

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But it’s so pretty…


My creepy little artist

My 4.5 year old got a little scratch on her leg this morning.

My creepy little artist

My creepy little artist

My creepy little artist

(*Cue music from Psycho here*)

My creepy little artist

My creepy little artist

So I probably won’t be sleeping much tonight…

 

I Make Myself the Queen is an itty-bitty newborn blog. Please be gentle with it, wash your hands before touching it, and be sure to come back often to tell it how cute it is!

immtqesub01_7
Read my family blog www.coolestfamilyontheblock.com where I pretend to be a good mom.

The time I scrubbed the kitchen floor


The time I scrubbed the kitchen floor

The time I scrubbed the kitchen floor is one of my grandma’s favorite stories to tell about me. I was about four years old. I was visiting at my grandma’s house and I told her to lie on the sofa so that I could take care of her and clean the house. I even made her a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. By the way, my cooking skills have not improved much.

The photoshop skills are strong in this one.  Ahem.

The photoshop skills are strong in this one. Ahem.

Then I pulled a stool up to the sink and washed all of the dishes. For my grand finale, I decided to scrub the kitchen floor.

Be impressed by this fancy "time lapse" drawing.

Be impressed by this fancy “time lapse” drawing.

This was the early 1980s: there were no child safety locks on the cabinets, and despite his popularity back then, there was no Mr. Yuk sticker in sight as I looked under the sink to choose which cleaning products to use. My grandmother’s kitchen was enormous and I probably spent an hour in there on my hands and knees scrubbing the floor while my grandma rested. When I was finished I was so proud of myself and I called my grandma into the room to see the sparkly clean kitchen.

The time I scrubbed the kitchen floor

My grandma’s reaction in her own words:

“I will never forget the sight. You had scrubbed the whole floor with Comet and it was so thick on the floor that’s all you could see. When grandpa came home from work he had to really scrub the floor. But you tried and really did a good job with Comet.”

The time I scrubbed the kitchen floor

Yes, I had used Comet to scrub the kitchen floor, probably because that’s what we used at home to clean out our cast iron bathtub and it was the only household cleanser that I had prior experience with. The entire kitchen floor was covered in a thick layer of beautiful blue, gritty Comet. My grandma was shocked, but she only praised my hard work. My grandpa, who had to clean up my mess and rewash the dishes, was far less enthusiastic about my “job well done”.

The time I scrubbed the kitchen floor

Scrubbing the kitchen floor with Comet? Epic fail! And I can’t really say that my cleaning skills have improved much since then…

Do you have an epic cleaning fail? Did you ever scrub something with Comet that you should’nt have? Let me know in the comments!

Today, April 07, is No Housework Day! Celebrate with me and my pal Rachael from Non-Domestic Mama by linking up your housework and anti-housework related posts here. You can also “like” the No Housework Party Facebook Page and party on Twitter using the hashtag #nohousework!

No Housework Party

I Make Myself the Queen is an itty-bitty newborn blog. Please be gentle with it, wash your hands before touching it, and be sure to come back often to tell it how cute it is!

immtqesub01_7
Read my family blog www.coolestfamilyontheblock.com where I pretend to be a good mom.

VBAC to the Future: A Birth Story


Today is my son Jonathan’s 2nd birthday and I have finally written his birth story. Jonathan’s birth was going to be an attempted VBAC (Vaginal Birth After Cesarean). Two and a half years prior at my daughter’s birth I had a really pushy doctor that bullied me into interventions that I didn’t want that resulted in a c-section because my baby was “too big”.

You know those beautiful birth stories that you read about how the mother gently births her baby into the world in a relaxing birthing tub while her husband rubs her back, kisses her forehead, and cries at the miracle before him? Well, this isn’t one of those stories. Mostly because if my husband even breathed in my general direction while I was in labor I would gut him like a fish. Also, I tend to have a tiny flair for the dramatic. Ahem.

VBAC to the Future: An Illustrated Birth Story

I was due on February 05, 2012 and began prodromal labor two days prior. On February 07 I woke up with a lot of discharge after having some hourly painful contractions throughout the night, maybe it was the mucus plug. I went about my day as usual and that evening we went out to eat as a family and went to the mall. At 2:15am I had a painful contraction and I swear that I actually heard something pop. I woke my husband up to tell him I think my water broke and by the time he had turned the light on I was soaked.

VBAC Birth Story

After he helped me get cleaned up I had him call the doula right away. She said that we probably had some time and to try to go back to sleep and she would be there as soon as she could in the morning. Throughout my entire pregnancy I had read everything about VBAC that I could get my hands on. I knew there was a risk of uterine rupture, but I also knew that the risk was minimal. During my pregnancy I had no fear or doubts about attempting a VBAC. Until my water broke. And now I was terrified and wanted the doula to be there right that very second because surely my uterus would explode at any moment. My husband was able to go back to sleep. Me, not so much.

VBAC Birth Story

As time went by I continued to have contractions stronger and closer together. My baby boy was moving and wiggling inside of me. Concentrating on his sweet baby wiggles knowing that it would be the last time that I would feel them helped calmed my fears.
Early in the morning I woke my husband to tell him that my contractions were 7 minutes apart and that he should call the doula soon, but the contractions got so intense once I woke him that I insisted he call her immediately. Then those tricky little contractions jumped from 7 minutes apart to 1 minute apart. Where did my other 6 minutes go?!

VBAC Birth Story

Both of our moms were there by the time my doula arrived at 7:30am and my contractions were right on top of each other. I could hear my daughter waking up in the other room and I started screaming for someone to get her downstairs before she saw me and how much pain I was in.

VBAC Birth Story

Ever since my contractions had jumped to 1 minute apart I had forgotten all of my fears about my potentially exploding uterus and concentrated on the pain and the possibility that the baby may fall out of me on the way to the bathroom.
And then it happened. I was standing up when my body started involuntarily pushing without me. The best way that I can explain it is it felt like my vagina was throwing up…dry heaving, more accurately. I wasn’t pushing, my body was pushing.

VBAC Birth Story

As much as I would’ve loved to have had a homebirth, it’s not what we had planned and now I wasn’t sure what we should do. Luckily my doula was also a monitrice and a midwife in training, so she checked me for dilation. I was 10 centimeters! 10! That’s go-time! She said that she was a little surprised that I was so far along judging by how well I was handling the contractions.
So, I just made that up because after my doula read this she said that I was only 8cm (10cm and I would’ve been staying put), so I’m a liar, liar vagina on fire. I blame labor brain. Shut up, it’s a thing.

VBAC Birth Story

Do we stay at home and have the baby, do we try to drive to the hospital and risk having the baby in the car? And which hospital do we go to? The hospital that we were supposed to birth at was 40 minutes away, but there was another hospital with completely different doctors that was only 20 minutes away.

VBAC Birth Story

We decided to go to the hospital that was closer even though none of my doctors were there and none of them had ever heard of me before. Still in my nightgown, I slipped on tennis shoes, and without socks or coat, I got into the van. My husband drove there as fast as he could and I screamed moaned the whole way there. My contractions were right on top of each other, my body was still involuntarily pushing, and the bumps and turns from the road made everything so much more painful.

VBAC Birth Story

We pulled up in front of the ER and abandoned our van as a nurse came running with a wheelchair. Like a scene out of a movie my husband ran behind us as I was wheeled through the hospital moaning and growling loudly.

VBAC Birth Story

I had brought a Pretty Pushers gown, but had left it in the van along with my birth plan. As my husband answered the nurse’s questions I continued moaning while I was being dressed in a hospital gown and hooked up to all manner of things…something I stated that I didn’t want in my birth plan.

VBAC Birth Story

The nurse checked me for dilation. In fact she thought it would be a super fun idea to check me for dilation while I was having a contraction. And in case you’ve never experienced that before, it feels like someone is sticking a chainsaw up your hoohaw. Which is just a titch painful.

VBAC Birth Story

After that oh-so-pleasant internal exam the nurse announces that I am…
7 centimeters dilated. 7 centimeters. Not 10. 3 less centimeters than 10. Only 7. Not 10. 😦

VBAC Birth Story

…and because I’m only 7 centimeters I can’t push. Don’t push. Stop pushing. Even though I’m not pushing on purpose! So basically try to stop my body from pushing without my permission. Riiiiiiight. Not a problem.
In the meantime someone had fetched my bag and my birth plan and the nurse actually told my husband, “We don’t have time to read that right now…” Yet she made me lay on the bed doing nothing for an hour while waiting for me to dilate to 10 centimeters. But maybe she was too busy to read it because she decided to do more chainsaw checks for dilation approximately every 10 minutes.
VBAC Birth Story

After an hour of trying not to push I finally got the blessing from my nurse to begin pushing. She kept insisting that I wear an oxygen mask and if I accidentally moved the fetal monitor slightly she would stop the whole show and tell me, “You can’t let this move. This has to stay right here. Don’t let this move.” But the oxygen mask and fetal monitor made it more difficult to push because it was so hot…and not “It’s a lovely day for swimming” hot, but more like, “SWEET MOSES, WHY IS THIS BED ON FIRE?!” hot. And it was February. In Pennsylvania. I felt like I couldn’t breath. Which, by the way, is an important part of staying conscious. And being conscious is beneficial when trying to push a human being out of your lady-hole.
Just sayin’.

VBAC Birth Story
(Tom Hanks in Castaway is completely unrelated to this story. Just thought my illustration looked like Wilson.)

I was hours into pushing and started to get discouraged. Maybe my first baby was too big. Maybe my pelvis is too small. Maybe it wasn’t all of the interventions the first time and I’m going to need a c-section again. I was so focused on pushing that it never occurred to me to ask to change positions and the one time that I tried made the nurse unhappy. My resourceful doula had reminded me of a birthing position that we’d discussed previously called the McRoberts Maneuver. It’s often used in cases of shoulder dystocia (which the baby did not have) to enlarge the pelvic outlet. Basically you lay flat on your back hold your legs up/back and when you push, lift your butt off of the table and as high up in the air as you can get it. It was like freaking Cirque du Soleil. Except I pooped myself. And no one in Cirque du Soleil poops themselves. I hope.

VBAC Birth Story

My arms got so weak that I had to hold onto the sides of the bed and have my husband and doula hold my legs up for me. It must’ve worked because eventually the doctor came in to prep for birth. My doula overheard them talking about giving me an episiotomy and knowing that my birth plan (which they hadn’t read) stated that I didn’t want one, she told them to ask for my consent. I declined. #birthadvocatesforthewin

VBAC Birth Story

I have no idea how it happened, but sometime between putting on a hospital gown and crowning, I ended up naked. Prior to this experience I just didn’t understand WHY all of the ladies in birthing videos were naked, just…why?! Well…because I felt like I was giving birth on the surface of the sun, being naked was fine by me, even if I can’t remember how I got naked in the first place. Once it was “showtime” about 30 people came into the room and the nurse was all, “Are you okay being uncovered like this?” and I was like, “OMG, SHUT UP! A TINY HUMAN IS TRYING TO RIP APART MY SPECIAL PURPOSE FROM THE INSIDE OUT!”

VBAC Birth Story

Of course I didn’t actually say that. I don’t remember what I said but it was so hot and I was in so much pain and I was so close to getting the baby out that I seriously did not care if my 6th grade math teacher had walked in right then, I wasn’t going to stop what I was doing to cover up everything except for my vagina!
(And if you’ve read this post you’ll probably find this illustration hilarious.)

VBAC Birth Story

Once it was time to push his head out I started to get afraid again, and not just about uterine rupture, but about potentially ripping my nether regions to shreds. My doula told me to push slowly and breathe the baby out, but at this point my mind was mush and I had no idea what she was talking about. As I pushed out my son’s head I kept screaming, “It hurts! It hurts!” and my doula quietly whispered, “I know.” But I felt like I was having an outer body experience where at that very same moment that idiot me was screaming “It hurts!” the version of me with a fully functioning brain was saying,
“No crap, stupid! Of course it hurts!”

VBAC Birth Story

But it didn’t hurt for long. As soon as that beautiful, giant head came out of me I experienced relief unlike I’d ever experienced before. Birthing a head is a million times more comfortable than having it jammed in your pelvis, even if Lady Tenderpuss is still radiating pain from the infamous ring of fire.

VBAC Birth Story

With the doctor shining a giant spotlight onto my lady parts I pushed the rest of my son out in a roomful of strangers completely naked. I mean, they were all clothed, but whatever. My son was born Wednesday, February 08, 2012 at 11:59am via unmedicated VBAC after 2.5 hours of pushing (9 hours and 44 minutes after my water broke). I held my son to my chest and we both cried. Once the initial elation had worn off I started to feel like someone should give me an award of some kind. I mean the baby was great and all, but I wouldn’t have refused a big trophy had I been presented with one.

VBAC Birth Story

As cliché as it may sound I definitely felt empowered after my VBAC. In fact I felt so empowered that I wanted to push out all of the babies in the hospital. “Look what I can dooooo!”

VBAC Birth Story

My son weighed 9 lbs 6 oz was 22 inches long and had a head circumference of 36.5 cm (14.37 inches). He was 1 pound bigger, .5” longer, with a head over an inch bigger than my supposed “too big” c-section baby. I really wanted to go back to my c-section doctor Pretty Woman style and rub it in her face. To this day I’m still curious about whether or not she was the doctor on call that day.

VBAC Birth Story

Before I left the delivery room my nurse said that I was the most “fierce pusher” that she’d ever seen. Shortly after birth I would have proof of that fact, because I pushed so hard that I pulled nearly every muscle in my entire body. My legs were weak and wobbly and my arm muscles felt massive. I had broken the blood vessels around my eyes and I couldn’t get my eyes to focus. I felt like they were rolling around in my sockets like Cookie Monster. I even pulled the muscles in my tongue. My tongue. I didn’t even know that was possible! In fact it even swelled up to the point where I was talking funny.

VBAC Birth Story

Between the fact that I had pulled all of my muscles, had an almost 3rd degree tear, and OMG the post partum contractions came on fast and strong and felt like my uterus contained Samurai sextuplets…I simply could not make it to the bathroom in time. Every time I had a contraction the pee just came rushing out of me while I sat there in bed. This resulted in a nice case of diaper rash.

VBAC Birth Story

I don’t know why so many women have trouble loving their post partum bodies. I was covered in my own urine, but I felt like a Princess.
In fact, post partum I looked just like a Princess. Princess Fiona.

VBAC Birth Story

Sure, I looked like an ogre, peed my pants when I blinked, and felt like I was sitting on razor blades for a month, but it was one of the most amazing experiences of my life. And I’m kind of in love with the prize that I got to bring home.

VBAC Birth Story

***I hope my illustrations don’t give the wrong impression. Birth is painful business, yes, but it was amazing and awesome and I wouldn’t have done it any other way! I recovered nicely and everything was so wildly different from my c-section (which destroyed me emotionally) that it’s hard to compare the two. Birth is amazing and despite the scary pictures I consider this story one of the best days of my life!

What was your birth experience like? Were you naked? Was your 6th grade math teacher there?
Let me know in the comments!

Unnecesarean Birth Story for "big" baby

This post is linked to…
*Talk of the Parent Blogosphere
*Friday Flash Blog No. 56
FlashFlashBlog-150x150

I Make Myself the Queen is an itty-bitty newborn blog. Please be gentle with it, wash your hands before touching it, and be sure to come back often to tell it how cute it is!

immtqesub01_7
Read my family blog www.coolestfamilyontheblock.com where I pretend to be a good mom.

There’s a bra in my lunchbox


You may have already read this story on my other blog a few years ago, but it’s back complete with illustrations.

1985lunchboxbra00

Don’t trade lunches with Jenny!

1985lunchboxbra01txt

1985lunchboxbra02txt2

1985lunchboxbra03txt
(Why yes, my elementary school was extremely tiny and it was also shaped like a poorly drawn pencil ;))
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1985lunchboxbra06txt

1985lunchboxbra07txt

My mother, being the evil genius that she is, decided to find me the most itchy, scratchy, uncomfortable bra that she could possibly find. This way I’d be quiet about wanting a bra and I’d see that growing up too fast isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be. Her evil plan had worked and since she saw that I had learned my lesson, she never made me wear that horrible bra again.

The joke was on her 5 years later when I actually needed a bra and she had to practically wrestle me into one! I had no desire to ever wear one again after my traumatic experience in the first grade. I required one with no underwire, no lace, no trim, no padding. Two band-aids would’ve done a better job. Then a few years after that when I really blossomed, I went the other direction and wore my bra constantly, I even slept in it every night.

In my late teens I would get a job in the lingerie department of a local department store and would eventually become a fit consultant and the department manager for 5 years.

awkwardIMGP5097ctxt

Sadly my mom got rid of my Popples lunchbox years ago and now I have to keep all of my bras in a drawer like a normal person.

When did you get your first bra?
Were you excited about it or embarrassed?
Was your bra itchy and uncomfortable too?
Let me know in the comments!

This was linked to Mama’s Kat Writer’s Workshop for the prompt:
3.) Write a post inspired by the word: bra

Related Posts:
*Awkward: I sold my teacher what?!!!
*Dear Diary: I’m kind of a stalker

I Make Myself the Queen is an itty-bitty newborn blog. Please be gentle with it, wash your
hands before touching it, and be sure to come back often to tell it how cute it is!

immtqesub01_7

Read my family blog www.coolestfamilyontheblock.com

Awkward: I sold my teacher what?!!!


You may have already read this story on my other blog a few years back. But I wanted to breath new life into it and add some illustrations.

I sold my teacher what

1991

It was around March or April of 1991. I was in 6th grade. I was 11 years old. I had the misfortune of having the same math teacher two years in a row. He wasn’t all that bad and still I wasn’t very fond of him. Maybe because Math was my least favorite subject and my grades were slipping that year.

1990-11txt
(Look at that face of innocence! And also that sa-weeeeet outfit ;))

Middle School was the time when we learned what “going together” was all about (sorta). Kids were “going together” and breaking up every week. “Going together” more than 2 weeks was rare and nearly unheard of during these formative years. I myself had already had one other “going together” and breaking up experience so far that year. Now I found myself “going with” another boy. I don’t remember much about our “relationship”. I don’t remember how we got together or how we broke up…I only remember that it happened and was, in the scheme of things, quite an uneventful period of time in my life. The only mention of the “relationship” in my diary was short, cryptic and written 3 months after the fact.

(Names were erased to protect the privacy of those mentioned in my diary ;))
1991-06-diary-entry1txt
The spelling is literally killing me. 3 “mounths”, wow!

There’s probably more I don’t remember about this experience than what I do remember and I regret that I can’t provide you with all of the compelling details. All I know is that the halls had recently emptied, I’m guessing that the bell was about to ring for the start of class. My boyfriend was in the hall with me and before he left he gave me a quick peck. I’m fairly certain that this was the first time that had happened, yet it happened so quickly it almost seemed routine. I’m not even sure the kiss hit my lips although I know it had intended to.

awkwardIMGP5096c01txt2

Then he came walking up to me…my math teacher. Tall (in comparison to me), round, balding, and bearded he towered over me with his eyes narrowing at me through his round glasses. He informed me that he had just seen what had happened and would be calling my mother. I wanted to yell that he had kissed me and that I was the innocent victim of a hit and run (which was the truth), but I said nothing and walked with my head down, red-faced and embarrassed into class.

IMGP5096c02txt

I don’t think my math teacher ever bothered calling my mother because she never talked to me about it, and believe me, she definitely would’ve talked to me about it. I suppose there was nothing to worry about, yet I still couldn’t help feeling embarrassed that my teacher thought me a naughty girl. In fact this very incident may have been what led to the ultimate demise of my “relationship” with Mr. Kiss-and-Run. I bet you’re thinking that this is rather a boring story and so far you’re right. Little did 11 year old me know the irony that awaited me 7 years later…

1998

It was around September or October of 1998. I was 19 years old. I was working in the lingerie department of a very newly opened department store in the mall. Half of our department’s merchandise consisted of respectable sleepwear and robes, the other half of bras and panties and other foundations. Far from being Fredrick’s of Hollywood or even Victoria’s Secret we only carried a few racks of “special occasion” lingerie, otherwise known as…the sexy stuff.

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(Me 1998, still the picture of innocence.)

Because the store had recently opened I was scheduled to work with several other cashiers, something that would be unheard of in the future as many resignations and lay-offs would occur. I was standing near the register talking with another girl when I happened to glance over towards the “special occasion” lingerie…
And then I saw him. Looking through the racks of sexy lingerie was my 5th-6th grade math teacher. He didn’t appear as tall since I was now (a little) taller than my 1991 counterpart, but he was still round (although perhaps more round), still balding (although more bald), still bearded (although more gray), and still wearing round glasses.

awkwardIMGP5097ctxt

Before I had a chance to tell my co-worker and then flee from the scene…horror of all horrors he came walking up to the cash register. Suddenly I found myself alone. Where did my co-worker go so quickly?! I took my long hair and threw it in front of my face to hide my features and turned my name badge around to hide my name. I was hoping he would quickly purchase a nice tasteful negligee for his wife (?) without recognizing me. Well, he didn’t recognize me…at least he didn’t acknowledge that he recognized me. In fact I’m not sure he even looked directly at me as I’m sure he may have been quite embarrassed of himself.

Embarrassed because, no…he was not in fact buying a nice tasteful negligee. Instead I found myself ringing up a pair of crotchless panties…in size 2XL…for my 6th grade math teacher! (*shudder*)
Paying with a credit card confirmed my suspicions that it was indeed him. Aside from me mumbling the purchase total I’m quite sure that neither of us spoke during the whole transaction including any hellos or goodbyes.

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He left and I pulled my hair back out of my face which was much redder than it had been 7 years ago in the hallway at school. Once I had a moment to recover from the horror of what had just happened, a smile broke across my face and I found myself wishing that I had his mother’s phone number…that naughty, naughty boy!

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Do you have an awkward story to share?
Let me know in the comments!


This was linked to Mama’s Kat Writer’s Workshop for the prompt:
1.) Describe a time you made things…awkward.
.

Related Posts:
*Dear Diary: I’m kind of a stalker

I Make Myself the Queen is an itty-bitty newborn blog. Please be gentle with it, wash your
hands before touching it, and be sure to come back often to tell it how cute it is!

immtqesub01_7

Read my family blog www.coolestfamilyontheblock.com

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