mrtl

She Wants What She Wants

I took my mother to lunch today, with every intention of taking her to lunch, until Jem started getting all angry kitty and had to be removed for nursing in the van as the check was being delivered. But I digress.

When we first got to the restaurant, another couple with their little boy (5-ish) were sitting at a nearby table. When Jem started getting a little crotchety in her carseat, Mom Mom -- her back to the other table -- took her and was working on getting her back to sleep. The woman at the next table -- let's call her Crazy Ordering Lady (COL) -- asked if Jem was "new." Insert mini conversation about how she and her husband -- who is currently deployed to Iraq till November but not actually there now because he's here, sitting across from her at the table, on R&R -- are planning on having another kid sometime, maybe in the next 3-4 years because they're feeling the "empty nest syndrome" ::can that term even be used before your kids are old enough to move out??:: and want another baby ::My word, woman! Do you always give so much information out to strangers?:: She must have seen this in my face, or maybe it was my bemused look. She apologized and stopped. Still. What came next horrified and amused me more.

After our salads and appetizer (first time having California rolls oh yummy yummy yum yum!) were delivered, the waiter headed to them to take their order. (He had been to them already, and while I didn't hear the whole conversation, it boiled down to her having a lot of questions and wanting something delivered to her son first in order for her to decide.) I never heard anything the waiter said, if he said anything at all (I imagined his lower lip being quite stuck to the floor with what this woman was saying, but his back was to me so we'll never know), but the following was overheard from COL. Note that her [poor] husband never uttered one word this entire time.

I'd like some miso soup, but I want it very hot and I want lemon added to it.

I want [the soup] heated to boiling. Microwave it.

Do you have a lemon? I want a whole lemon diced. Can you dice it for me? Just slice it. Bring me the slices so I can squeeze the juice into the soup.

[Son interjects.] I want an orange, sliced so I can squeeze the juice into my cup [of water]. ::gah! Look at the example she's setting!::

Can you make [some other dish - or maybe still the soup, I'm not sure] spicy? What spices do you have? Just bring me whatever spices you have and I'll add them myself.

The hardest part for me here was being too close to get snarky about her with Mom. I told her we were going to have to talk later. I mentioned to her my newfound desire to have one of those shirts that say, "I'm Blogging This." We were fortunately able to stifle our giggles after the soup and lemon (and orange? not sure) were delivered and COL hithered the waiter back over.

::pointing at bowl with disgusted look on her face -- yes, I couldn't keep my eyes off the trainwreck, but she was just over Mom's shoulder, so averting was easy enough:: This is still too warm. I want it boiling hot. This bowl is microwaveable. Microwave it till it's boiling.

When the waiter turned around after this, and our eyes met for that moment, I was happy to see that there was amusement in his. He was not to be flustered by this curmudgeon, this lemon miso soup nazi.

Does This Mean What I Think?

Really? Because we never gave her this.

Uncivil Liberties, Part II

[Note: I'm highly annoyed that I had this post pretty much written at the hospital on a scrap piece of paper that I now can't find. I wonder if the techs who cleaned up my room found and read it. Hopefully they will learn from it.]

Story Time with mrtl

After the birthing, the waiting, the cuddling, the nursing, the showering, the eating and the changing of rooms, it was pretty late before mrtl actually got to bed on the night of Jem's arrival. Add to that more cuddling, nursing and fascinated baby watching (the base hospital doesn't have a nursery, so newborns stay in the rooms with their mommas), she was still pretty damned tired the next morning. She had just gotten Jem back to sleep and was about to follow suit when her phone started ringing off the hook. What made it worse was that the calls weren't even for her, but for some chick named Dawn.

On what ended up being the last call, Dawn's mother-in-law identified herself, told mrtl she didn't know why the operator keeps putting her calls through to mrtl's room, and started asking her a bunch of fucking questions and peppering her with the details of her life. Are you in the perinatal unit? What room are you in? Oh! What did you have? My daughter-in-law had a boy! Is this your first? Oh! My son and daughter-in-law have a two-year-old, too! She then asked mrtl to call the nurses' station to ask them to tell Dawn to call home.

::tangent::
Right after mrtl delivered, another woman showed up in labor. It was Dawn. Dawn's last name rhymes with mrtl's, so mrtl assumed the phone calls coming to her room were a screw up by the operator since the names sounded so much alike.
::end tangent::

Wouldn't you know, a couple hours later this random stranger pops into mrtl's room to say hello, see the baby and pepper her with more details of her life, as if mrtl could give a flying fuck to know that she was calling Dawn because she couldn't find her nightgown. And hello, security? Hello, privacy? Hello, birth plan that explicitly states the names of the only three visitors mrtl wanted in her room?

To add insult onto injury, the woman reeked. She had on some foul, flowery essence that exuded from her every pore that remained in the room for at least an hour after she left. Woman was lucky mrtl wasn't allergic to it, as she often is of flowery fragrances.

::tangent used as a public service announcement::
NOTICE TO ALL THOSE WHO STINK WEAR FRAGRANCES
Remember when you first started using your essence? A little dab or light spray here or there did it, right? Remember that. While your nose has grown accustomed to the smell, the strength of the smell has not changed; curiously enough, this proves true of kitty litter as well. Just because you can't smell it doesn't mean that others can't either. DO NOT put more on until you can smell it!
::end tangent used as a public service announcement::

Sure, the woman was nice and was only being friendly, being from Georgia and all, but come on! Is it too far fetched to take issue with such behavior? A stranger especially? In the freakin' hospital? While in a backless gown, wearing the net panties that are holding the canoe in place?

::tangent::
Mrtl totally snarfed an extra pair of the net panties to bring home. Don't ask why. She just had to have them.
::end tangent::

Hell, you know how mrtl is about people dropping in unannounced.

It was difficult for mrtl to not send her own mother over to Dawn's to return the favor. Surely that would one-up Dawn's mother, as mrtl's mother is She Who Cannot Leave a Baby Not Picked Up.

Uncivil Liberties, Part I

::tapping the mike:: Hello? Is this thing on? Anyone still there?

Well. Suffice to say that I haven't found much time to hang out online this week. What with the baby and the house guest (in the room where I do my late-night blogging) and Bug home two days this week. Tonight I decided I was tired of longing, that the stories I've written in my notebook need to be voiced. Some of them I wrote more than a week ago, but instead of backdating and confusing everyone, I'll just put a date at the top and be done with it.

Bloglines says I have 328 posts (not counting the 22 I marked to go back and read later) to catch up on. Gah!

But on with the show...

[Disclaimer: You may be wondering in a few seconds why you're reading a story about something that happened years ago. If so, you are not cut out to be a detective or an intel officer. For a clue, see the title of this post.]

Story Time with mrtl

Once upon a time, and that time was October 16, 2003, mrtl was in the hospital to give birth to a beautiful Bug. The day before, which was the day after mrtl's due date, mrtl had asked her doctor (out of curiousity - did I spell that right? nevermind) how far after the due date he'd consider inducing. The doctor responded that he was free the next day. Being the planning kind of gal, mrtl immediately agreed. Because of this planning, friends, family, acquaintances and anyone else crossing our paths knew about the impending birth.

This included Colleen. Colleen was a young officer at the base with whom mrtl was fairly friendly (i.e., engaged in plenty of idle chit chat at happy hours). She was a really nice chick, and she was very enthusiastic about Bug's arrival. So enthusiastic that she kind of overstepped the boundaries of her relationship with mrtl. Actually, "overstepped" is going easy on the woman. That, my friends, is foreshadowing.

::tangent::
To make things easier in the telling, "mrtl et al" shall be used to refer to mrtl and mister mrtl. Now, back to our regularly scheduled program.
::end tangent::

The birth plan mrtl et al submitted to the hospital stated a few things. First, it made clear that mister mrtl was the only guest allowed. Second, it said that only essential personnel be present (no students, etc.). This is because mrtl is a prude. She to this day goes into a toilet stall at the gym to change (ha! yeah, when she goes to the gym). It's a personal body image issue, so be it.

Mrtl et al had arrived at the hospital at 6:00 that morning, and Bug made her way into the world at 10:19 that night. Friends, family, acquaintances and anyone else crossing our paths the day before were left chewing their fingernails anticipating news. Except for Colleen. Colleen was proactive, I tell you. She wasn't about to sit all day and wait for news. She called the hospital, and even though mrtl had signed a paper stating that no information was to be given out, and even though mrtl was LYING IN A BED IN ACTIVE LABOR at the time, a nurse poked her head into the room and asked if mrtl would take Colleen's call. Nuh freakin' uh! As if!

Colleen wasn't to be hindered, though. Oh no. Tenacious was she. When a few hours later she still hadn't received news, she headed over to the hospital. When she didn't see a baby labeled "Baby mrtl et al" in the nursery, she investigated further. Yet again, a nurse poked her head into mrtl's Labor and Delivery room.

::tangent for the mental image needed here::
This moment was several hours into mrtl's active labor. This moment was not too long after the nurse suggested mrtl try lying on her side to push. Mrtl's bare ass (including the Yet to Be Named Trudy the Protruding Hemorroid) was facing the door, her right leg high in the air as she attempted to push Baby With Large Head out... unsuccessfully.
::end tangent for the mental image needed here::

"Your friend Colleen is here and wants to know if she can come in to say hello."

Is it necessary for me to go on? I didn't think so.

My Three Favorite People

mister mrtl on Idol

It's rare that we find a television show that we both enjoy. Rarer still that we're both available to watch it. Last year I had to resort to hosting "American Idol" parties so the snarkiness would not go unnoticed, but now that mister mrtl's schedule is cooperating (and since we can always tape episodes to watch when convenient), I have my true Idol partner with me.

Here's his assessment of last night's Idol:

Paula is definitely off the drugs tonight. (I agreed whole-heartedly with this; girlfriend was downright coherent, and she wasn't doing the splayed-finger clap.)

She looks like Paul Stanley. (I think Lisa is absolutely adorable. No, that doesn't mean I think Paul Stanley is hot, unless you're talking about this Paul Stanley.) What do you think? ::shudder::

 

Sympathy Pains

It's sweet the sympathy my boobs have garnered. Kalki, Sharkey, smooches!

It's sweet how mister mrtl says he awakens regularly through the night, pretty sure he's heard Jem crying (impossible considering I can't hear her crying when I'm standing just outside her room).

What's not so sweet? How the non-tortured nipple starts throbbing while I'm nursing.

----

Tomorrow I shall post a non-boob post. I promise.

Bustin' Out (and Big Wiener)

ohmaygockmyboobshurtsomuchitmustbelike1000piercingsdonesimultaneously

Would you believe me if I said that nursing hurts more than birth? Fuck you if you don't. For the birth I had drugs. And I don't have to give birth every other hour around the clock.

::tangent::
For those of you who have considered having kids and letting them clamp and chomp their vicelike gums on your nipples for nourishment, please understand that the pain will subside. Hopefully in a week. I'm really hoping it's just a week, because I've refused to nurse in Bug's presence due to the pain (and that I suck at acting and can't pretend it feels like sunshine and buttercups) and won't be able to continue that after my mother goes home.
::end tangent::

It's really a good thing that she's so damned cute. She's endeared herself to me in how she noshes at my cheek when she's hungry. She has the cutest cheeks, so of course I nosh her right back.

----

I have a lot to catch up on here. My weekend at home was spent in boob torture. My off-boob torture time has been spent with Bug, who managed to get herself sick on Friday and has been quite the miserable, snotty, coughing mess. It sucks especially because she was soooo excited about Jem coming home and I'd like nothing more than to let her hold, kiss and cuddle her little sister. Still, when I get a chance I'll be writing some catch up posts, including one on Valentine's Day, Bug's counting, Jem's name, uncivil people, and of course pictures of my sweet girls. (This list is to serve as a reminder for me.) Oh yes, I also need to check on the big wiener of the Evict Frida Contest... let's get that done now. Hold on a sec...

While I'm gone, mark your calenders. Tuesday, February 21, 2006 shall be Duck Fart Day! Mister mrtl and I are taking Jem to a doctor's appointment, then hitting the Duck Fart place for lunch. I shall nurse in the van before we head in. At least that's the plan. Hopefully Bug will be feeling better and we won't need to take her to the doctor as well. If so, we may have to take another run into town later in the afternoon. Otherwise we'll be serving up the farts at home.

----

Ok - Drum roll please...

There was one contestant who dared guess so far out, and she shall reap the reward(s) for the risk. With a guess of February 17 at 7:17am, the Big Wiener of the homemade adult diaper is...

wordgirl! Congratulations!!

----

p.s. I posted Jem's birth story on her site.

Meet Your Cruise Director

Here's our Jem in a rare moment of resting peacefully in the baby cage...

And one more for good measure...

She's a sweet, cuddly little lump o' Bug. So cuddly, in fact, that she really prefers to be held than not. Right now she's in a sleepy cuddle holding pattern on Mom Mom, has been since Bug went to bed about an hour ago.

I'm not exactly tired, but I'm not in the mood to exert myself to put together any type of story. Maybe tomorrow. I do have a lovely rant written out on a scrap piece of paper... where'd that go??... that I'll need to get typed up for the Problems with Civilization category.

Till tomorrow,
mrtl (who's very happy that mister mrtl got the vast majority of emails over this whole event because the last thing I need right now is the hint of self-beating obligation to respond)

Ancient Chinese Secret

So while I'm waiting for mrtl's labor to begin in earnest, I snuck out to get some take-out from one of the local Chinese joints...the fortune was very fitting:

YOU WILL FIND COMFORT IN A NEW RELATIONSHIP

I don't normally put stock in fortunes from fortune cookies, and even resisted adding the obligatory "in bed" to the end of this one, but it was...nice!

Off to the hospital to visit mom and baby...