If you haven't already, please read my post about my daughter's birth before you read this one. It'll make a lot more sense. That post can be found here.
The thought of going through the process of childbirth again is horrifying to me. It's more than horrifying. It's nauseating. It's disgusting. It's... I'm not sure I can find words to actually fully describe how I feel about childbirth.
Now, I haven't always felt this way. I used to think childbirth was the magical, amazing process of bringing a new life into this world. Sure, there were some gross parts, but that's just part of it. Not all that much you can do. And in the end, you get to meet this amazing little person that's been growing inside of you for the past 9 months.
Now my views are completely different. Childbirth is a completely disgusting process. There are no other words for it. Every aspect of it is horrible. There's nothing separating you from your neighbor's dog who just birthed a litter of puppies a week ago. You just sit there as your stomach contracts and forces a giant gooey ball of child out of your body, all while you're sitting there moaning in pain and looking like a monkey in a zoo.
And it's not like you're going through this in private. You're sitting there constantly being watched and monitored by nurses. Nurses who also probably think you look like some kind of wild, dying animal.
I don't want to be humiliated again. I've already come to terms with the fact that yes, I will have to birth another child here shortly. I'm 7 months pregnant. For some reason when getting pregnant I hadn't really thought about the fact that they have to come out eventually. That probably would have altered my decision a bit about getting pregnant in the first place.
I do not want to be induced again, but I fear for my own safety if I go into labor on my own. Why would I willingly share the information that I'm in labor? That I have to go to the hospital? Why would I put myself in that position of vulnerability again? I keep telling myself that if I were to go into labor naturally, I would probably lock myself in my room and not tell anyone. I would just sit in my room, as quietly as I could manage, and avoid the hospital all together. But that is incredibly stupid. What if something went wrong? My selfishness could be deadly.
I don't know what I'll do when it's time for Grayson to make his grand appearance. Hopefully I'll be smart and selfless enough to get myself to the hospital. But I feel like I'm brewing up a brand new batch of crazy over here, so there's no guarantees.
Friday, April 29, 2011
Krystal's Birth
Technically I would say it started on the Tuesday before she was born. I went into my appointment, and my doctor asked me, "How do you feel about having her Wednesday?" I said sure, then I freaked out. It was Tuesday. Which meant that the next day was Wednesday. I asked her if she meant the next day, or the Wednesday after. "Tomorrow," she said. I still said yes, and wasn't fully aware of what I'd just agreed to.
That night I couldn't sleep. I was supposed to go in at 6am the next morning, but I couldn't sleep if my life depended on in. Finally, 6am rolls around, and we head to the hospital. The get me checked in and set up in this tiny little room where they start hooking up IV's. Problem with this is, no one can get the stupid things in my hands. I get stuck no less than 5 times in each hand before someone else finally steps in and tries, twice. Eventually they get it set up. Some time later they take me to the room I'll be actually delivering in.
They get me set up with a little sheet and start hooking up the pitocin and whatever else. They put a blood pressure cuff on that goes off every once in awhile. I'm not sure if you ever had 5 needle marks in your hand and then had your blood pressure taken, but it hurts SO bad. It felt like there was just so much pressure building up in my hand, and my hand was very close to exploding in pain.
The contractions started off slow and barely noticeable, but it wasn't long before I started getting the aches in my hips and my back. I remember it was only about 11 o' clock before I asked for some pain medication. The lack of sleep from the day before mixed with the medicine let me fall asleep almost immediately. I was probably asleep for 30 minutes before the contractions woke me up. I know I wasn't asleep for long, because I was still completely out of it when I woke up. They checked me, I was at 4 centimeters, which was basically nothing since I came in at 2. They decided to break my water then, which I only remember as being gross. My mom says I wouldn't stop talking about it (I was still under the influence of the pain medication).
More time passes, the contractions are getting worse and worse and I'm not getting any breaks between them. They're constant and intense, and I'm pretty sure my back is about to split in half and my hips are about to shatter. I can't stop crying and I feel sick. I don't think I was even 6 centimeters dilated yet. Although the thought of getting an epidural never even crossed my mind, I was asking for one now. Epidurals are terrifying. They put needles in your spine. I never, ever wanted one, but I couldn't deal with the pain. It took awhile for the anesthesiologist to get in the room, I think he was doing a c-section or something. He gets in and explains the procedure and risks and all that and then they make everyone leave the room. I begged for my mom or someone to stay because I was so scared but they made everyone leave. I don't get why I couldn't have someone stand in the corner of the room but whatever. They made me lean over this thing and I just freaked out. I didn't want to do it yet. I was scared. I asked for them to wait a minute but the nurse held me down. I screamed and cried and screamed some more.
Finally they get the epidural in and the nurse tells me I made a big deal out of nothing. I lay back down in bed and my family comes back in. The pain is gone for now and I can kind of relax. Then they decide it's time to monitor the baby better. How do you do that? You screw a little metal springy thing into the top of their heads. I recall not wanting it, but was told that I needed it.
I'm still not progressing very well, so they decide to flip me to my stomach over the side of the bed. Not something that works very well when you don't have any control of your legs anymore. Then the springy monitor falls off, and they freak out and flip me over again (where they find out the monitor fell off) and keep trying to get it on again. They finally give up because Krystal's hair was too thick and they couldn't get it to stay on.
I'm about at an 8 now, and the epidural feels like it's starting to wear off. My hips feel like they're about to shatter and my back hurts soooo bad. I tell the nurse I'm in a lot of pain and she tells me there's nothing she can do because I'm fine. Then she tells me it's time for me to practice pushing. I didn't want to. I'd never heard of someone practicing how to push. Then she took my sheet off of me and told me I had to. I try, and I can't. It hurts too bad. There's no point in it (at least not that I know of) and this nurse is just being a bitch. I keep trying and I'm so upset she took my sheet and I'm just exposed to the world while pushing for no reason I just start crying. I'm crying so hard I can't even breathe and I'm starting to feel sick. All I wanted was my stupid sheet back. Finally the nurse gives up and gives me my sheet back and leaves me alone.
About an hour later, I think it was actually time to push. The pain was so bad in my hips I could barely take it. I remember they had taken the sheet off of me again, and hiked my gown all the way up. I kept trying to put my gown down a little bit more, but they wouldn't let me. Then, half of my freaking family walks in, because the nurse didn't feel it necessary to shut the door. There was even a curtain they could've wrapped around the door, but she didn't even close that. So, surprise! It was absolutely humiliating. My mom mentioned it to the nurse the door was still open and all she said was "Oops." and shut the door.
Anyways, I pushed for 30 minutes as hard as I possibly could and Krystal was born. They put her right on my stomach, and I scooped her up and just thought she was amazing. I barely remember it though, because I literally pushed until I thought I was going to pass out. You're only supposed to do it for 10 seconds or whatever, I didn't care. I wanted it over. I wanted to be covered up and get these people away from me.
After I held her for a few minutes or however long they took her to clean her up and do everything. I got to hold her again afterwards, and then I'm guessing they took her again for something as I got moved to the recovery room.
I don't really remember going from the delivery room to the recovery room, but I do remember actually getting there. There were two nurses there to help me around, since I had no use of my legs. They wheeled me into my room and said I had to go to the bathroom before they put me in my bed. I didn't have to go. I didn't have anything to drink in at least 15 hours or so and had a catheter because of the epidural. They made me go anyway, and while struggling to get me into the bathroom my gown fell off. I already felt gross and dirty and ashamed from how I was treated during the delivery, all I wanted was my gown back. She wouldn't give it to me. I told her I couldn't go and she started squirting me with a squirt bottle. I finally was able to go, and she finally gives me my gown back.
The nurses are really rough with me getting me into the bed, and once I'm finally in I close my eyes for a few seconds because I'm so exhausted. This is when the nurse quietly mentions to the other that she never tells anyone her real name so she can't get reported. Then they bring Krystal into the room. The nurse asks me if she's been fed yet. I said I didn't know, because I wasn't sure if they gave her a bottle or something yet. I wasn't sure how everything worked. She asked it *I* fed her, and I said no. I had just gotten her like 2 seconds ago. She asks if I'm bottlefeeding or breastfeeding, and I tell her I wanted to breastfeed but I really wasn't sure what to do. After a rude comment on how it's so simple and my baby was starving, she takes to gown off my shoulder and forcefully shoves my boob into Krystal's mouth. After an eye roll and another rude comment about my lack of whatever you want to call it (mothering instinct? Intelligence? Who knows). She leaves. Then it's just me and Krystal. Visitors come in and out next day but for the most part it's just Krystal and myself.
And that's it. Apparently shortly after I came home I locked myself in my room for a few months and refused to talk to anyone other than a few select friends online. I don't remember much from her birth until I got help for PPD.
But yeah, it was possibly the most horrifying, terrible, most degrading experience of my entire life. And I wish I never had to do it again, but I do. And soon.
P.S. All that said, I'd do it all 1,000,000x over to have my baby girl here. She's my world. Despite the way I was treated, holding her for the first time still managed to be one of the happiest moments of my life. <3
That night I couldn't sleep. I was supposed to go in at 6am the next morning, but I couldn't sleep if my life depended on in. Finally, 6am rolls around, and we head to the hospital. The get me checked in and set up in this tiny little room where they start hooking up IV's. Problem with this is, no one can get the stupid things in my hands. I get stuck no less than 5 times in each hand before someone else finally steps in and tries, twice. Eventually they get it set up. Some time later they take me to the room I'll be actually delivering in.
They get me set up with a little sheet and start hooking up the pitocin and whatever else. They put a blood pressure cuff on that goes off every once in awhile. I'm not sure if you ever had 5 needle marks in your hand and then had your blood pressure taken, but it hurts SO bad. It felt like there was just so much pressure building up in my hand, and my hand was very close to exploding in pain.
The contractions started off slow and barely noticeable, but it wasn't long before I started getting the aches in my hips and my back. I remember it was only about 11 o' clock before I asked for some pain medication. The lack of sleep from the day before mixed with the medicine let me fall asleep almost immediately. I was probably asleep for 30 minutes before the contractions woke me up. I know I wasn't asleep for long, because I was still completely out of it when I woke up. They checked me, I was at 4 centimeters, which was basically nothing since I came in at 2. They decided to break my water then, which I only remember as being gross. My mom says I wouldn't stop talking about it (I was still under the influence of the pain medication).
More time passes, the contractions are getting worse and worse and I'm not getting any breaks between them. They're constant and intense, and I'm pretty sure my back is about to split in half and my hips are about to shatter. I can't stop crying and I feel sick. I don't think I was even 6 centimeters dilated yet. Although the thought of getting an epidural never even crossed my mind, I was asking for one now. Epidurals are terrifying. They put needles in your spine. I never, ever wanted one, but I couldn't deal with the pain. It took awhile for the anesthesiologist to get in the room, I think he was doing a c-section or something. He gets in and explains the procedure and risks and all that and then they make everyone leave the room. I begged for my mom or someone to stay because I was so scared but they made everyone leave. I don't get why I couldn't have someone stand in the corner of the room but whatever. They made me lean over this thing and I just freaked out. I didn't want to do it yet. I was scared. I asked for them to wait a minute but the nurse held me down. I screamed and cried and screamed some more.
Finally they get the epidural in and the nurse tells me I made a big deal out of nothing. I lay back down in bed and my family comes back in. The pain is gone for now and I can kind of relax. Then they decide it's time to monitor the baby better. How do you do that? You screw a little metal springy thing into the top of their heads. I recall not wanting it, but was told that I needed it.
I'm still not progressing very well, so they decide to flip me to my stomach over the side of the bed. Not something that works very well when you don't have any control of your legs anymore. Then the springy monitor falls off, and they freak out and flip me over again (where they find out the monitor fell off) and keep trying to get it on again. They finally give up because Krystal's hair was too thick and they couldn't get it to stay on.
I'm about at an 8 now, and the epidural feels like it's starting to wear off. My hips feel like they're about to shatter and my back hurts soooo bad. I tell the nurse I'm in a lot of pain and she tells me there's nothing she can do because I'm fine. Then she tells me it's time for me to practice pushing. I didn't want to. I'd never heard of someone practicing how to push. Then she took my sheet off of me and told me I had to. I try, and I can't. It hurts too bad. There's no point in it (at least not that I know of) and this nurse is just being a bitch. I keep trying and I'm so upset she took my sheet and I'm just exposed to the world while pushing for no reason I just start crying. I'm crying so hard I can't even breathe and I'm starting to feel sick. All I wanted was my stupid sheet back. Finally the nurse gives up and gives me my sheet back and leaves me alone.
About an hour later, I think it was actually time to push. The pain was so bad in my hips I could barely take it. I remember they had taken the sheet off of me again, and hiked my gown all the way up. I kept trying to put my gown down a little bit more, but they wouldn't let me. Then, half of my freaking family walks in, because the nurse didn't feel it necessary to shut the door. There was even a curtain they could've wrapped around the door, but she didn't even close that. So, surprise! It was absolutely humiliating. My mom mentioned it to the nurse the door was still open and all she said was "Oops." and shut the door.
Anyways, I pushed for 30 minutes as hard as I possibly could and Krystal was born. They put her right on my stomach, and I scooped her up and just thought she was amazing. I barely remember it though, because I literally pushed until I thought I was going to pass out. You're only supposed to do it for 10 seconds or whatever, I didn't care. I wanted it over. I wanted to be covered up and get these people away from me.
After I held her for a few minutes or however long they took her to clean her up and do everything. I got to hold her again afterwards, and then I'm guessing they took her again for something as I got moved to the recovery room.
I don't really remember going from the delivery room to the recovery room, but I do remember actually getting there. There were two nurses there to help me around, since I had no use of my legs. They wheeled me into my room and said I had to go to the bathroom before they put me in my bed. I didn't have to go. I didn't have anything to drink in at least 15 hours or so and had a catheter because of the epidural. They made me go anyway, and while struggling to get me into the bathroom my gown fell off. I already felt gross and dirty and ashamed from how I was treated during the delivery, all I wanted was my gown back. She wouldn't give it to me. I told her I couldn't go and she started squirting me with a squirt bottle. I finally was able to go, and she finally gives me my gown back.
The nurses are really rough with me getting me into the bed, and once I'm finally in I close my eyes for a few seconds because I'm so exhausted. This is when the nurse quietly mentions to the other that she never tells anyone her real name so she can't get reported. Then they bring Krystal into the room. The nurse asks me if she's been fed yet. I said I didn't know, because I wasn't sure if they gave her a bottle or something yet. I wasn't sure how everything worked. She asked it *I* fed her, and I said no. I had just gotten her like 2 seconds ago. She asks if I'm bottlefeeding or breastfeeding, and I tell her I wanted to breastfeed but I really wasn't sure what to do. After a rude comment on how it's so simple and my baby was starving, she takes to gown off my shoulder and forcefully shoves my boob into Krystal's mouth. After an eye roll and another rude comment about my lack of whatever you want to call it (mothering instinct? Intelligence? Who knows). She leaves. Then it's just me and Krystal. Visitors come in and out next day but for the most part it's just Krystal and myself.
And that's it. Apparently shortly after I came home I locked myself in my room for a few months and refused to talk to anyone other than a few select friends online. I don't remember much from her birth until I got help for PPD.
But yeah, it was possibly the most horrifying, terrible, most degrading experience of my entire life. And I wish I never had to do it again, but I do. And soon.
P.S. All that said, I'd do it all 1,000,000x over to have my baby girl here. She's my world. Despite the way I was treated, holding her for the first time still managed to be one of the happiest moments of my life. <3
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Emotions and Pain
You probably think this post is going to be some long boring rant about how miserable I am or something, but it isn't. Well, not really. Let me explain.
I am not "allowed" to feel emotion. You know how boys are taught not to cry? I get in trouble any time I'm anything other than happy and healthy. I'm not allowed to get frustrated, or angry, or sad. I'm either being a bitch or trying to get attention.
Example: My grandmother passed away last year. She had cancer and there was nothing that could be done. I remember one time I was sitting in the living room, and I was thinking about everything, and I started crying. Nothing over the top, I don't think I even made a noise. Just a tear fell down my face. I was immediately asked "What the fuck my problem was." I said I was just upset about the situation. Who wouldn't be? But my emotions and feelings were wrong. I was told that I didn't understand. Basically, I shouldn't have any emotions on the situation, because I wasn't as close to her as other people were.
Every time I get mad about anything I'm told that I need to stop "being a bitch". I am not allowed to get aggravated that I constantly ask people to not throw food in the sink, and it keeps happening. I'm not allowed to be upset that the cat walks on the tables and counters, leaving dirty little kitty prints everywhere. I'm not allowed to get angry that Krystal is ripping pages out of her book and hitting me and screaming and causing trouble. I'm not allowed to get angry. There is no such thing as angry. It's me over-reacting and "being a bitch". I don't even know what is "justifiable anger" or is just me being crazy. Apparently everything I get upset about is unreasonable and crazy, so I feel guilty and stupid about my emotions.
I'm just not allowed to feel anything other than happiness. I'm 7 months pregnant and (already) can barely walk. I fell down the other day and was yelled at not to say a damn thing about my aches and pains, I didn't work all day. Yes I did. I woke up early and made enough potato casserole to feed 40+ people. All the chopping and cooking wasn't exactly easy. It took me three hours just to get it all in the oven. Then I had to try to keep the kitchen semi-clean (I totally failed there) and I had to watch the spaghetti sauce to make sure it didn't burn. I delivered the food and helped get everything set up. I helped in the kitchen. I helped put the food away. I had to make sure Matt was ok all day. Then I had to of course play with Krystal, get her food, all the regular mommy duties. At the end of the day I cleaned up her playroom, and was getting ready for bed. I could barely walk between the pain in my ankles and the pain in my hips and back. That's why I fell. But even my pain is wrong.
It's not fair. I had the stomach flu and was stuck in bed for two days with a fever throwing up every 15 minutes. I was told I was a bad mother. I couldn't watch her. I tried anyway. It was fun teaching her not to lean over the toilet constantly and make puking noises. I'm glad she didn't get sick though.
Apparently, life as a stay at home mom is nothing but pure joy and health. There is no reason for me to ever be anything other than happy. There is nothing stopping me from keeping the house spotless at all times. All this extreme joy and laziness I get from staying at home should even be enough to fight off the worst of flus.
Don't even get me started on trying to have "opinions". This post would never end.
I am not "allowed" to feel emotion. You know how boys are taught not to cry? I get in trouble any time I'm anything other than happy and healthy. I'm not allowed to get frustrated, or angry, or sad. I'm either being a bitch or trying to get attention.
Example: My grandmother passed away last year. She had cancer and there was nothing that could be done. I remember one time I was sitting in the living room, and I was thinking about everything, and I started crying. Nothing over the top, I don't think I even made a noise. Just a tear fell down my face. I was immediately asked "What the fuck my problem was." I said I was just upset about the situation. Who wouldn't be? But my emotions and feelings were wrong. I was told that I didn't understand. Basically, I shouldn't have any emotions on the situation, because I wasn't as close to her as other people were.
Every time I get mad about anything I'm told that I need to stop "being a bitch". I am not allowed to get aggravated that I constantly ask people to not throw food in the sink, and it keeps happening. I'm not allowed to be upset that the cat walks on the tables and counters, leaving dirty little kitty prints everywhere. I'm not allowed to get angry that Krystal is ripping pages out of her book and hitting me and screaming and causing trouble. I'm not allowed to get angry. There is no such thing as angry. It's me over-reacting and "being a bitch". I don't even know what is "justifiable anger" or is just me being crazy. Apparently everything I get upset about is unreasonable and crazy, so I feel guilty and stupid about my emotions.
I'm just not allowed to feel anything other than happiness. I'm 7 months pregnant and (already) can barely walk. I fell down the other day and was yelled at not to say a damn thing about my aches and pains, I didn't work all day. Yes I did. I woke up early and made enough potato casserole to feed 40+ people. All the chopping and cooking wasn't exactly easy. It took me three hours just to get it all in the oven. Then I had to try to keep the kitchen semi-clean (I totally failed there) and I had to watch the spaghetti sauce to make sure it didn't burn. I delivered the food and helped get everything set up. I helped in the kitchen. I helped put the food away. I had to make sure Matt was ok all day. Then I had to of course play with Krystal, get her food, all the regular mommy duties. At the end of the day I cleaned up her playroom, and was getting ready for bed. I could barely walk between the pain in my ankles and the pain in my hips and back. That's why I fell. But even my pain is wrong.
It's not fair. I had the stomach flu and was stuck in bed for two days with a fever throwing up every 15 minutes. I was told I was a bad mother. I couldn't watch her. I tried anyway. It was fun teaching her not to lean over the toilet constantly and make puking noises. I'm glad she didn't get sick though.
Apparently, life as a stay at home mom is nothing but pure joy and health. There is no reason for me to ever be anything other than happy. There is nothing stopping me from keeping the house spotless at all times. All this extreme joy and laziness I get from staying at home should even be enough to fight off the worst of flus.
Don't even get me started on trying to have "opinions". This post would never end.
Friday, April 15, 2011
Warning: Very Sensitive Issue
This is my blog. These are my feelings. I know some things should be thought and not said, but some of those things will eat at you until you get them off your chest. This post is about stillborn babies. If you do not want to read it I advise you stop reading now. This is an incredibly sensitive topic, and I do not mean to offend anyone. I am only speaking my person feelings.
I know of someone who recently lost their baby. I don't think that any person on the face of the earth should have to deal with losing a child, in utero or already born. I can't possibly imagine the pain of losing someone who never had a chance at life. Someone you were waiting so anxiously to hold, and to love. I hope and pray every day that I never have to feel that pain, and my heart aches for every mother that has had to deal with that loss.
Now, here's where I get to the sensitive issue, as this is clearly not a one-size-fits-all problem. Death to me is something I'm not very comfortable with. The thought of it is just terrifying. Some people are okay with it, I'm just... not. I don't understand posting pictures of your stillborn child on social networking sites. I didn't have a choice whether or not I saw that picture. There is was, right at the top of my news feed. I just looked at it, kind of in shock. This baby is not alive is the only thing my brain would let me think. I kept telling myself this is still her baby, her precious baby that she wanted, and loved. But at the same time I couldn't handle it at all. This tiny little person, dressed in white, she just looked so broken.
I can't get that picture out of my head. I'm truly sorry for her loss, but I feel as if the picture was a bit much. I felt so guilty about my feelings. I still do. I feel disturbed and incredibly upset. But it's just an innocent baby. Her innocent baby. Her angel. Her Facebook. She has every right to post anything she wishes.
I have no idea what I would do if I was ever faced with a situation like this. I would want to take pictures. They would be the only memory I had of my little one. But would I share them with Facebook? I want to say no. If I felt the need to share them, I would ask who would like to see them, instead of just posting them without warning. But I would probably keep them to myself. They would be my private pictures. Not in a shameful way, but in a personal way.
I still feel like absolute dirt for how I feel about this. I completely understand why you would want to share your child with your friends. But it's a very sensitive issue, and I just feel like there should've been some cover over it, instead of just thrown out there.
Again, I'm sorry if this offended someone. I just had to get that off my chest.
I know of someone who recently lost their baby. I don't think that any person on the face of the earth should have to deal with losing a child, in utero or already born. I can't possibly imagine the pain of losing someone who never had a chance at life. Someone you were waiting so anxiously to hold, and to love. I hope and pray every day that I never have to feel that pain, and my heart aches for every mother that has had to deal with that loss.
Now, here's where I get to the sensitive issue, as this is clearly not a one-size-fits-all problem. Death to me is something I'm not very comfortable with. The thought of it is just terrifying. Some people are okay with it, I'm just... not. I don't understand posting pictures of your stillborn child on social networking sites. I didn't have a choice whether or not I saw that picture. There is was, right at the top of my news feed. I just looked at it, kind of in shock. This baby is not alive is the only thing my brain would let me think. I kept telling myself this is still her baby, her precious baby that she wanted, and loved. But at the same time I couldn't handle it at all. This tiny little person, dressed in white, she just looked so broken.
I can't get that picture out of my head. I'm truly sorry for her loss, but I feel as if the picture was a bit much. I felt so guilty about my feelings. I still do. I feel disturbed and incredibly upset. But it's just an innocent baby. Her innocent baby. Her angel. Her Facebook. She has every right to post anything she wishes.
I have no idea what I would do if I was ever faced with a situation like this. I would want to take pictures. They would be the only memory I had of my little one. But would I share them with Facebook? I want to say no. If I felt the need to share them, I would ask who would like to see them, instead of just posting them without warning. But I would probably keep them to myself. They would be my private pictures. Not in a shameful way, but in a personal way.
I still feel like absolute dirt for how I feel about this. I completely understand why you would want to share your child with your friends. But it's a very sensitive issue, and I just feel like there should've been some cover over it, instead of just thrown out there.
Again, I'm sorry if this offended someone. I just had to get that off my chest.
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Robin's Rules
Whether you know me in real life or online, you probably know that I complain a lot and freak out over the tiniest little things. I, in my mind, consider these freak-outs to be completely legitimate and reasonable. I even have a "list" of things that specifically bother me, and to avoid anymore confusion, I will post that list, in no particular order.
1. Load the Dishwasher Properly
There are many, many things that annoy me about how people load the dishwasher at my house. So, I will list them all, so there are no questions.
Alrighty, so that above is a basic dishwasher. Ours has two racks, one at the bottom, of course, and then one on top, above the upper spray arm. Here's the deal. The two spray arms are responsible for getting your dishes clean. The water pressure builds up in the arms and causes them to spin.
How is that a problem? Well, this is a two part problem, because there are two arms. For some reason, people don't understand that when you load the dishwasher you have to keep things out of the way of the arms. This means no spatulas hanging from the bottom rack, and nothing too tall on the top rack. If you have either of these going on, your dishes are not going to get clean. It is pointless. And could be completely avoided by loading the dishwasher properly.
Notice how the dishwasher is loaded. This is a properly loaded dishwasher. Plates at the bottom, cups at the top. Now I personally put the bowls on top, but when they are stacked "up" and not laying face down, they will still get properly cleaned. Also notice that the silverware is pointing up. The reason for this is that when you put the silverware with food on it upside down in the container, the food just stays in there with the silverware and it doesn't really get clean.
If you're confused about where to put your dishes, look at the holding spoke thingys in the rack. They're meant to hold certain dishes. That's why they aren't all the same length or shape. Some are meant to hold plates, others bowls, and then cups. It's simple, really. Don't know why everyone has such a difficult time with it.
Problem 3 does not have a picture. It doesn't need one. This is probably the most annoying dishwasher issue I have to deal with in my house. People have no problem putting their dishes in the dishwasher in my house. But for whatever reason, they never start it. There have been times when I can't find dishes for a day or so, and I check the dishwasher. The dishwasher is full. There is soap in the soap dispenser holder. There isn't even any room for more dishes to go. It's just sitting there full of dirty dishes, ready to clean. I can understand if you have a lot of room left, that you would want to wait for it to be full, but why oh why do you fill it, get it ready to be washed, and let it sit? And this is a regular thing in my house. Drives me f*cking insane!
2. Don't Vacuum Up Things That Aren't Meant To Be Vacuumed
As of today, we have 9 vacuums in this house. No, that is not a typo. 9 vacuums. One more than 8 and one less than 10. Why do we have so many? Because no one in my house seems to know how to properly run a vacuum cleaner. It's not that hard. They're designed to pick the dust and dirt out of carpets and floors. They're not designed to pick up pens, shoes, blankets, coins, socks, bottoms of curtains, etc. And if you happen to run over one of these things on accident, do not continue using the vacuum. That smell of burning plastic? Not a good thing. I was so tired of having to have my father dissect and fix the vacuum every time I needed to pick up crackers off the floor, that I went out and bought my own that no one is allowed to use other than me. Now the only thing that I have to deal with is the smell of burning plastic whenever someone uses another vacuum. Still pretty annoying though.
3. Don't Put Food in the Sink
I would post a picture of this, but I won't. This is another problem that we have in the house. We do not have a garbage disposal in the sink. Any food that is put into the sink will stay there until someone scoops it out with their hands. The way dishes get done around here, that's about every other day or so. The way people eat around here, that adds up to a lot of crumbs and nasty stuff in the sink. And it's not like you can just scoop it out, either. People are always running water in the sink, resulting in a giant mushy blob of old nasty food. You know what happens in the summer when it's hot and you leave that nasty stuff in there? Let's just say it's not pretty:
1. Load the Dishwasher Properly
There are many, many things that annoy me about how people load the dishwasher at my house. So, I will list them all, so there are no questions.
 | |
| Problem 1. |
Alrighty, so that above is a basic dishwasher. Ours has two racks, one at the bottom, of course, and then one on top, above the upper spray arm. Here's the deal. The two spray arms are responsible for getting your dishes clean. The water pressure builds up in the arms and causes them to spin.
How is that a problem? Well, this is a two part problem, because there are two arms. For some reason, people don't understand that when you load the dishwasher you have to keep things out of the way of the arms. This means no spatulas hanging from the bottom rack, and nothing too tall on the top rack. If you have either of these going on, your dishes are not going to get clean. It is pointless. And could be completely avoided by loading the dishwasher properly.
 | |
| Problem 2. |
If you're confused about where to put your dishes, look at the holding spoke thingys in the rack. They're meant to hold certain dishes. That's why they aren't all the same length or shape. Some are meant to hold plates, others bowls, and then cups. It's simple, really. Don't know why everyone has such a difficult time with it.
Problem 3.
Problem 3 does not have a picture. It doesn't need one. This is probably the most annoying dishwasher issue I have to deal with in my house. People have no problem putting their dishes in the dishwasher in my house. But for whatever reason, they never start it. There have been times when I can't find dishes for a day or so, and I check the dishwasher. The dishwasher is full. There is soap in the soap dispenser holder. There isn't even any room for more dishes to go. It's just sitting there full of dirty dishes, ready to clean. I can understand if you have a lot of room left, that you would want to wait for it to be full, but why oh why do you fill it, get it ready to be washed, and let it sit? And this is a regular thing in my house. Drives me f*cking insane!
2. Don't Vacuum Up Things That Aren't Meant To Be Vacuumed
As of today, we have 9 vacuums in this house. No, that is not a typo. 9 vacuums. One more than 8 and one less than 10. Why do we have so many? Because no one in my house seems to know how to properly run a vacuum cleaner. It's not that hard. They're designed to pick the dust and dirt out of carpets and floors. They're not designed to pick up pens, shoes, blankets, coins, socks, bottoms of curtains, etc. And if you happen to run over one of these things on accident, do not continue using the vacuum. That smell of burning plastic? Not a good thing. I was so tired of having to have my father dissect and fix the vacuum every time I needed to pick up crackers off the floor, that I went out and bought my own that no one is allowed to use other than me. Now the only thing that I have to deal with is the smell of burning plastic whenever someone uses another vacuum. Still pretty annoying though.
3. Don't Put Food in the Sink
I would post a picture of this, but I won't. This is another problem that we have in the house. We do not have a garbage disposal in the sink. Any food that is put into the sink will stay there until someone scoops it out with their hands. The way dishes get done around here, that's about every other day or so. The way people eat around here, that adds up to a lot of crumbs and nasty stuff in the sink. And it's not like you can just scoop it out, either. People are always running water in the sink, resulting in a giant mushy blob of old nasty food. You know what happens in the summer when it's hot and you leave that nasty stuff in there? Let's just say it's not pretty:
(I was going to post a picture here of maggots but the Google search was so nauseating I gave up the search *gag*)
4. Don't Act Like I'm Stupid
 |
| (not me) |
Contrary to popular belief, I am actually pretty smart. I do tend to go off on wild rants sometimes, which I know you're probably just rolling your eyes at thinking, "There goes Robin again, out of her mind and being dumb..." But like I said, I'm a pretty intelligent person. I'd also like to think I'm fairly realistic in the way I think and also pretty logical. Do I act it all the time? Most definitely not. But when you sit there and talk to me like I have no idea what you're talking about or that I can't understand simple things like how to do laundry, well, it makes me want to punch you in the face. And the last thing I want to do after you lecture me like I'm 5 is actually do whatever you've been trying to tell me to do. I'm stubborn like that.
5. Do Not Lie to Me
 | ||
| It's not that easy to lie to me... |
Although this is towards the end of my "rules", this is one of the most important. This actually ties in directly to the above rule. It's not that easy to lie to me. I don't know why people feel the need to try. Unfortunately it happens a lot. People lie straight to my face. I guess they really do think I'm stupid enough to believe their bullshit. I should call people out more, but instead I just let it go, because if I were to call out everyone every time they lied to me everyone would think I'm just a bitch.
As with every post, there's always more, but I'm getting too tired to type anymore.
Sunday, April 3, 2011
A Walk Down Memory Lane
Lately, for whatever reason it may be, I've been obsessing about toys from my childhood. Some I've looked for for over TEN years, trying to remember what they were called. Within the past 24 hours I've managed to find mostly everything I remember from my childhood. And I'm going to share those things with you, in no particular order.
1.
Loveable Bears. I got one when they first came out. The only difference I see between these and the one I had as a kid is that the bottle was white, and the colors were lighter. Loveable Bears were little electronic bears that could fit in the palm of your hand. The bottles were scented depending on the color of the bear you had. I had a blueberry and a lemon one (which was later turned to banana when they were re-released in 2007). Your bear would coo and make all kinds of cute baby noises, and when it cried you would give it it's bottle, and it would be happy again. It's nose had a light in it, which glowed red when it was on. I cannot tell you how hard it was to find these bears, even just a picture of them. "scented keychain bear with bottle" is apparently not very descriptive. 10 years of wondering what these little bears were, and I finally found them. If only I could actually FIND one, and not just a picture!
2.
Aww... Puppy Surprise! I had all three. Pony Surprise, Puppy Surprise, and Kitty Surprise. The only difference between these and the ones I had is that I had a purple cat. Each toy came with a random number of babies, from 1 to 6. Besides these three, there was also a Bear Surprise and a Bunny Surprise. Each animal came in different colors and they had more than one pose. The mommies were all plush with velcro on their bellies, where the babies were. The babies had a hard plastic head and their bodies were filled with beads. I had my Pony Surprise in kindergarten. I got 6 babies with her, which is the most you can get! My favorite was the baby sleepy pony, whose eyes would open when you put ice on them. The other two I had I probably got at Christmas time, over the next few years. My collection was complete by 2nd grade.
3.
I still have the outfit to the gold barbie. These guys were awesome! The tails were kind of thick, I guess to keep their shape, and crinkly. When you put water on their hair (can't remember cold or hot) it would change colors, like purple and pink. And the Skipper mermaid came with two babies whose fins actually changed colors in water! Why Skipper had the babies, I do not know. Maybe she was babysitting. All I know is these Barbies made bath time super fun, and I wish I could find those color changing fins for the babies! Too cool!
4.
Ah... Sky Dancers. These things were dangerous. You would put them into their launchers, pull the string as fast as you could, and they would launch into the sky and slowly come back down. I used to hold them in the launcher and just spin them and use them as fan, or I'd stick my tongue out and hit it with the wings. I never said I was a normal kid. I can't tell you how many lightbulbs and lamps and other things I destroyed from playing with these indoors. Sweet, sweet memories. I always promised I'd be careful next time, and I never was. Maybe that's why they slowly started disappearing over the years...
5.
I love elephants. And baby animals. So that automatically made this one of the coolest toys ever. Actually, it still is. It is currently sitting next to me, since I just took a picture of it because I couldn't find any on the interwebs, and because I still actually OWN this! He used to make some kind of noise when you pushed his arms towards his chest, but the batteries have probably been dead for ten years now. I think it was a kind of elephant giggle noise? Don't ask me to explain what that sounds like. I don't even know!
6.
Yes, one of the most significant toys in my childhood came from a kid's meal. But it's Bambi! And this was back in the day when kid's meal toys were actually worth collecting, and could actually be played with. I still have this around somewhere too... I was doing good keeping it away from Krystal, but I'm pretty sure she has it hidden somewhere, and I can almost guarantee his legs are all chewed up now. I remember in 2nd or 3rd grade when a 5th grader stole my Bambi on the bus, and my mom had to come up to school and get it back. Yay Mom!
7.
8.
I have an obsession. And that obsession is virtual pets. It all started back in '96, walking through Meijer, when I passed the toy section. Hanging there was this "Tamagotchi". It was a little orange egg shaped thing with buttons. It was a virtual pet. I begged and begged and for $11, I got it. I was the proud owner of whatever a Tamagotchi was. I got it home (or at least, to the car) and started playing. Ok, there's an egg. Just sitting there. Waiting, waiting, waiting, and it hatches! Into a blob! But not just any blob, MY blob. I fed it, played with it, cleaned its poop, and put it down for naps. I'm hooked. I started collecting them like crazy. I had Tamagotchi's, Giga Pets, Nano Pets, and more. If it was shaped like an egg and had a pixel-y picture of some kind of creature on the outside, it was mine. I miss the days when I had nothing better to do than clean virtual dookie.
I'll add more later (like, tomorrow) but right now it's time for bed and I want to post this!
1.
 |
| Love2Love Bears by Vivid (re-launched in 2007 in the U.K.) Originally launched in 1998 as Lovable Bears |
2.
 | |||
| Pony Surprise, Puppy Surprise, and Kitty Surprise by Hasbro 1990 |
3.
 | ||
| Magic Hair Barbie by Mattel 1991 |
4.
 |
| Sky Dancers by Galoob 1994 |
5.
 |
| Zoo Borns by Ed Kaplan Associates 1994 |
6.
 | |
| Bambi Masterpiece Collections by Disney 1996 (came in a Happy Meal) |
7.
 |
| Littlest Pet Shop by Kenner 1992-1996 |
"But those aren't Littlest Pet Shops..."
You shut your whore mouth and you shut it now. These were the original Littlest Pet Shop toys. These were made by Kenner, before Hasbro bought them and somehow turned these cute, adorable, cuddly animals into big headed mutant lazy eye freak pets. I'm not sure what Hasbro was thinking when they bought these toys in 2005. How did they go from these to the Littlest Pet Shop toys you see today with the giant freak heads? I don't get it. All I know is I can remember spending hours upon hours in my room with all my Littlest Pet Shop toys. I had more than I could count. And I could count pretty damn high.
8.
 |
| Virtual Pets by various companies 1996-1997 |
I'll add more later (like, tomorrow) but right now it's time for bed and I want to post this!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)