Poker, I think, is the perfect metaphor for life. You play the cards you’re dealt or wait until you get better ones. You try to keep a straight face until the hand is over. You try not to reveal your hand to the other players, even the ones you trust the most. People come and go from your table, some staying longer than others. Sometimes, in a wave of disgust or fury, whether through your own hand or someone else’s you are forced (or willingly) throw down your hand and leave the table. You’ve got your high rollers, in their Armani suits and their empty smiles, and the dumb rednecks in debt up to their gap toothed grins. Some people cheat, and some people are struck with luck that belies all reason. Every decision you make decides your next hand, and in one dumb move, you can ruin your whole game. Where do you go when you leave the table? Well, unfortunately, only people who have already left can tell you that, and they aren’t allowed back in.
Perfect Moment
i had an epiphany today. i realized that there is no such thing as a perfect day…only perfect moments. enjoy them while you can, because moments last, well, only a moment, and you don’t even realize you had it until it’s gone.
one perfect moment is the first day of the weekend, right after i have finished the laundry. after all the floors have been swept, the beds made, and the rugs vacuumed. right after the dishes have been done and the countertops already wiped down. it is about an hour after the last meal, (usually lunch) but when i am still in my pajamas and slippers. it happens while my son is playing on the floor with his trains with cartoons on in the backround. my husband has just left for work, but not so long ago that i still can’t feel his kiss on my lips. it is when i have nothing better to do than sit on the big comfy chair in the livingroom with the sound of spongebob and crashing trains in the backround, sip hot chocolate (by now i’ve already had my two lattes that get me going in the morning) and read a good book. the moment i realize this, is the perfect moment. when my mind takes one giant sigh, and relaxes in perfect bliss. then a few seconds later, i realize that my son and i are STILL in our pj’s, and the clothes in the dryer may not be dry yet, but will still need to be folded and put away soon. i realize that my husband is gone, and i won’t talk to him in person until i come home from work tomorrow. dog hairs are already sprinkling the floor again, and i have to get a shower at some point in the day. i have to make sure my work clothes are ready for tomorrow, and the toys and dirty clothes and dishes i so carefully picked up this morning are already collecting in various places. i remember that i have a lot of writing to do, and none of the energy or ideas to do it. the “mama, i’m hungry” chant has already started, and the trains have begun crashing a little too violently. the dryer has beeped, and the dogs need to go out. the book goes on the table, the hot chocolate scalds my tongue as i suck it down, and i heave my ass off the big comfy chair. *sigh* my perfect moment is gone, and all i can do is enjoy the memory of it.
i have had other perfect moments. when all thoughts of responsibility were drowned out by the moment i realized how beautful the moon looked that night, or how perfect the temperature felt, or even that first thought when sliding my body into cool, clean sheets at bedtime. it never lasts more than a moment, but it always feels so good. i guess some people might disagree on my opinion of a perfect moment. some people would probably link a perfect moment to the peak of sex, or the feeling of new love, or even the dizzy uncaring feeling of a chemical induced high. (alcohol or otherwise) i guess i’ve felt all of that, and still, i prefer a quiet contentment to dizzying and overflowing emotions.
damn, i’m getting old.
*for those of you who may need a good laugh, or just something to cheer you up and be reminded not to take life too seriously…i got this blog idea from a spongebob episode. yes, spongebob. you moms will probably know what i’m talking about… i’ve been listening to spongebob sing “the perfect day” song on commercials all freakin’ week, and i suppose it’s finally taken root permanently into my subconsious. oye.
My Tattoo
throughout my life, my emotions have been torrential at best…i’ve been borderline clinically depressed, and i have felt happier than most people will ever feel in their lives. the sad times are just a part of life, and feeling everything as strongly as i do, i’ve come to accept that. when i was in highschool, i was miserable all the time…so, naturally, my subconsious created something for me to retreat into. i had a dream once, when i was particulaly depressed, and it was the clearest dream i’ve ever had in my life. some of you might think it cheesy, but i think it just is. i try not to put words to such an amazing gift. i dreamt that i got on the back of a dragon, and we soared through the air. i could feel the wind in my hair, and the elation of flying free at such a high speed. i remember how cold it was in the clouds, and when we dove into the water, i remember the spash of the salt water against my face as we submerged. i will never be able to fully impart the magesty of the feelings and physical sensations i experienced. the color alone in the dream was dazzling. from that moment on, when i feel the saddness creeping on the deepest levels of my soul, i can close my eyes, and reinsert myself into that dream. i can re-experience the unadulterated joy that went along with flying free in the air on top of a mythical, magical creature. it helped get me through some of the roughest times in my life. now, that dragon is with me physically as well as spiritually…his head starts on the top of my foot, and he flows up the side of my calf as free and beautiful as i remember. okay, not quite as colorful, as i don’t like color work on the body, but i loooove my tattoo. i’m trying desperately to take proper care of it in the hopes that he will be with me forever. i will post a better pic once it heals a little more. the pic i posted was taken mere hours after completion, and if you look closely you could probably still see traces of dried blood where the bandages were taken off…
My Story
moms all over the world are as different as their countries differ from each other. but, we all have one thing in common. we’re moms…and in that little word, we each have a story to tell. i think that would be a great book to write. get a ton of different stories from women of all ages and races and nationalities and have them write down their story. put it all in a book, and you have everything you’ve ever wanted to know about pregnancy and giving birth you could ever have wanted to know. even adoption stories are just as special and amazing, and worth sharing with the world. so, fellow mommy friends… if you ever think you’d be interested or think you know someone who might be interested (all of us, after all, have a mother, or a father or grandparents who had to be a mother) then lemme know. it costs a little over $1000 to get a book put together and self published. (i know because my G-MIL did it with her horrid country southern poetry) i figure if we can get enough stories together, then we can split the cost evenly and hopefully not have to pay more than $50 a story. (afterall, some of us do have more than one story to tell…) i think it would make a neat book to be a part of. (we’d all get a copy, of course) so, let other people know, and let me know what you think. my e-mail is jessicahurst_@hotmail.com.
now, as for the graphic content part… i would never make a good book co-ordinator if i wasn’t willing to share my own story, no punches pulled, with everybody. 
so here it is. my story. or at least, what i remember of it.
i was 19 when i met jason. i even remember the exact day i met him… december 12, 2001. “whirlwind” courtship doesn’t quite describe it…on January 1, 2002 we were “together” for the first time, and exactly nine months later, our son was born on September 22, 2002. just a note for all you youngin’s, the pull out method does NOT work, and we discovered my pregnancy six weeks later in my ob/gyn appointment that was intended to get me a prescription for birth control.
The pregnancy was relatively easy…i don’t remember having morning sickness, or the cramping that is common in the first trimester. my poor breasts were very sore and got huge, though. i suppose i had a lot on my mind at the time of the pregnancy, and i didn’t pay as much attention to my body as some do. after all, building a relationship with a man while bringing a child into the world together is not easy work. i took my pre-natals everyday and tried to eat healthy and often. i ate so often in fact, that i went from 135 lbs to 185 lbs by the time i gave birth. (yikes!) i only got sick twice the entire length of my pregnancy. the first time was during my glucose test for gestational diabetes.
in order to test a woman for gestational diabetes the doctors literally pump you full of sugar then do a bunch of blood tests on you an hour later. i don’t remember how far along i was in my pregnancy when the test was done; i do however, remember being in well fitting maternity clothes at the time. the nurse gave me a small bottle of orange soda and told me to drink it as fast as i could, in five minutes minimum. i tried to tell her that i don’t drink fast and i almost never drink soda, but she apparently wasn’t in the mood to listen to some stupid patient who was whining about the tests she’s done a hundred times on other, more cooperative people. well, 15 minutes into my hour wait in the waiting room, i made a mad dash for the bathroom, but ended up vomiting the remains of my now orange colored breakfast in front of some poor woman who was waiting too close to the door to the office. i was kindly escorted to a waiting room with a trash can under my head while my husband (then boyfriend) helped clean up the mess. while i continued to empty my stomach for another 15 minutes, he ran to wal mart and got me some new clothes to replace the vomit covered ones. good times, eh? the next time i took my glucose test, i dumped half the soda down the sink.
that was about it for the interesting stories of my pregnancy. i do have cute little memories, such as feeling the little flutters from my son for the first time. it was during one of the many 2 hour drives i used to go on to and from my parents house, and the house i was living in with my boyfriend and his mother and grandmother. my darling angel kicked me in the bladder the entire way there. i also remember laying on the floor watching a movie with my boyfriend and putting a popcorn bowl on my stomach. the kicks were so strong it looked like the popcorn was still popping in the bowl.
my labor started on September 21st. earlier that day i had gone to wal mart to get a few essentials, and i remember the check out clerk saying “girl, you look like you about to pop”. i told her i felt like it too, but i’m not due for another 2 weeks. at 8:00 that night, i felt a sharp pain in my abdomen, and raced to the bathroom. when i sat down, i leaked bright red blood. all i could think was “oh my god there’s blood” and told my boyfriend (by now fiancee) that “i think we should go to the hospital now, there’s something wrong”. looking back on it with more experienced eyes, it was probably just my mucus plug. i could have stayed home another ten hours and everything would have been fine. well, except for the whole “contractions” thing.
on the way to the hospital (45 minute drive) i remember having a few contractions, but at the time it never occurred to me that i was in labor. how wierd, huh? i think i was more concentrated on getting through the moment, and worrying about there being something wrong.
when i got there they gave me a coke so the caffeine would stimulate the baby into moving, and they strapped me up to a fetal monitor and one of those things that measures contractions and a button i was supposed to push everytime i felt the baby move. i did that for about an hour (i suppose) and when the nurse came back to see how things had gone, she decided to keep me overnight in observation. because of the few contractions i had had she said “i have a feeling about you”. she told me that if i needed anything for the pain, to push the call button and to try and get some sleep.
my fiancee crashed on two chairs pushed together, and i, of course, got the bed. not much sleep was to be had that night, though. my dear fiancee sounded like a chainsaw in his attempts to sleep, and i was having contractions every once in a while that would wake me up. i still don’t remember realizing that i was in labor, and that soon we would have a baby. i do, however, remember buzzing the nurse at 2 in the morning telling her i was ready for those pain meds now. she checked my dialation, (i had dialated 2 cm in the past couple hours) gave me a shot of demerol right in the tookus, and moved us to a labor and delivery room.
in my new roomier and more comfortable digs, i tried to get some sleep, but alas, that wasn’t happening either. part of my birth plan was to go as long as i could without getting any serious pain meds, so when the nurse came in to check my progress later that morning, i was still under the spell of fading demerol. it didn’t do much good. when she checked me, i was dialated 6 cm, and as she was withdrawing she said “i think your water just broke”. i was so tired, i don’t remember them changing the sheets or anything…but my fiancee said they did afterwards, so i believe him.
when my water broke they decided to speed things up with a little pitocin, and naturally with my water breaking and the pitocin combined the contractions got worse and worse. as soon as i hit the transition period, i sat bolt upright in bed, and, for the second time during that pregnancy, yacked in a trash can that my darling fiancee had ready for me. apparently (so he says) he knows that look. there are many different kinds of pain and different levels of pain that i can take. but you throw vomiting into the picture, and it’s all over. that’s when i started begging for the epidural. after what felt like forever i got my epidural and i got some sleep.
after i could speak without vomiting and screaming, i think i made the phonecalls. i say “i think” because this time is very fuzzy in my brain. in fact, i distinctly remember leaving a message on the answering machine of one of my best friends (chrissy) that she says she never got. all i can figure out is, there must be someone out there wondering who that crazy lady was calling her house and leaving “i’m in labor” messages on her phone. i remember leaving the message that never was, but the people i know i talked to (bonnie and kelly, more friends, and my parents) i don’t remember talking to at all.
i was rudely awakened around 11 later that morning by some silly nurse telling me to push. i was all decked out in the knee stirrups with the appropriate clean up teams standing by. my fiancee was the only one i wanted in the delivery room, and he was the only one there. (other than medical staff, of course) i pushed for about an hour and a half before the baby crowned. i told my fiancee not to look…but silly man did anyways. the nurse even had me touch the baby’s head, and honestly, i don’t understand why. there’s a child hanging from my vagina…i want to push it out, not poke its head.
when he came out, it was the strangest physical feeling i’ve ever had in my life. the contractions, well, those just felt like terrible, terrible diarrhea cramps x 1000, or horrid menstrual cramps x 1000. but a baby coming out of my body? every organ that had been pushed up into my chest for the past 6 months simultaneously fell back into place. eat a huge meal, then drink an entire bottle of laxatives…then you might feel a tiny fraction of how that felt. it was wierd, and definitely similar to taking a giant poop. i think every woman thinks about going to the bathroom on the table while pushing. but i distinctly remember thinking at one point “i don’t CARE i just want this baby OUUUUTTTTT!!)” when i finally gave in to the inevitable, i relaxed every muscle in my waist that i had and pushed until i had my son at 12:20 that afternoon.
lucky, i only had 1 stitch to take care of but i was so swollen “down there” that i couldn’t pee. the nurses had to catheterize me until the swelling went down a little. i got a nifty little squirt bottle that i was supposed to use to clean my stitch everytime i went to the bathroom, and was given a laxative that i was very happy for later…it took me four days to have another bm, and i couldn’t imagine what it would have been without that little pill.
nursing, thankfully, came naturally. the nursing coach the hospital employed had called in sick that day, so my son and i were on our own. sometimes it was hard, but we eventually got our groove down. if not for lansinoh ointment for my nipples, i would never have been able to keep it up, though. i’ve heard of women’s nipples getting raw and even bleeding during feeding, but mine held up relatively well. actually, you probably could have fed a football team with the amount of milk my generous breasts produced. breastfeeding also helped my uterus cramp back into shape…everytime my son latched on, it brought on a wave of menstrual-like cramps that thankfully stopped after a week or two.
at first we didn’t have much other than the essentials. as a matter of fact, for the first two weeks my son slept in his carseat at night until my nana visited and bought us a pack n play with a built in bassinet.
i suppose from this point on, my story morphs from a birth story into a child rearing story, so i’ll stop here. although for me, i hope my story ends years, and years from now (70, maybe? when i’m about 95) in bed at night. hopefully my son and his future brother/sister will be sleeping soundly in their beds in their own houses with their own spouses and their own kids snoring in their little beds nearby. by then they’ll have their own stories to tell, and i will be able to end mine contentedly, with a “and they lived happily ever after”.
and now, because you actually read through that entire long-ass blog, i’ll share a little secret with you. hopefully, sometime around august 2nd, we’re hoping for the safe, and healthy arrival of a brother or sister for kyler. i am excited, scared and terrified. i am happy and thrilled and frightened. anybody who knows me knows how much i want more kids, and this is a dream come true. of course, it was an accident (we seem to be good at that) and i am so scared of something going wrong. if something happens, i will probably never have the chance to have more kids again. jason isn’t the kind of guy to make the same mistake twice, you know? (i was on birthcontrol, so this was doubly unexpected) i want this baby so badly.
today, i am 12 weeks along. i was supposed to have my second pre-natal appointment today at 4:30, but it snowed 6 inches last night. FUCK THE SNOW. so i had to cancel it to give them time to clear the roads. it takes them at least a day to get to the back roads, and they don’t plow my road at all. i have rescheduled it for 10 in the morning tomorrow, and hopefully the roads will be well enough that i don’t kill myself, my son, and my unborn child on my way there. i’ll get to listen to the heartbeat, and hopefully schedule an ultrasound to find out the gender. hopefully everything will go fine, and i’ll have good news to report. we’ll see, eh???
peace, love, and caffiene free coffee
That Should NOT Exist
in honor of having damn near a hundred posts in my blog, i am going to post a favorite old blog of mine from myspace. i haven’t quite read all the way through it yet, but i did notice something that i am totally embarassed about not catching when i originally posted it. at the bottom, i said “impelled” rather than “compelled”. WTF IS “IMPELLED”? and WHY oh WHY did nobody tell me i made such a gross error??? from now on, i am instructing ALL of you to inform me of any mistakes like that. seriously. even if you have to comment anonomously if you don’t feel comfortable correcting me. please. i am begging you.
Things That Should Not [EVER] Have Been Made
-Chocolate Flavored Skittles
yes. i tried them today for the first time ’cause i was curious…and they were pretty f’in nasty. i think there should be a new rule for chocolate products. if it doesn’t actually contain chocolate, just don’t do it. it’ll be nasty.
-Clear Pepsi
you remember it? it was gross. i thought it tasted like plastic. sure, some people liked it…but this is my blog, and i think that sh*t should never have been made.
-Generic Spaghetti Sauce
i bought it once, trying to be thrifty. i will also never do it again. in buying spaghetti sauce in the future i will also take into account the packaging. canned spaghetti sauce just plain sucks.
-Jaws Two and Three
honestly, i don’t think the first one should have been made, but since it’s been labeled a cult classic, i’ll let it slide. Yeah, there are several other sequels to other movies that shouldn’t have been made…but i just don’t have the brain power to think them all up right now. Jaws just comes to mind because i noticed it’s been playing on TV for the past couple nights.
-The Piano Teacher
it’s a book. i forget who the author is, but it won a pulitzer or something like that. that’s why i read it…but it was actually trash. it was the first book i’ve ever wanted to burn as soon as i finished it. (instead i gave it away) i’ve read bad books before, but this one actually won a very prestigious award! yack. it’s about this psycho piano teacher who lives with her mother. she’s never been allowed to have friends, let alone a boyfriend. the whole book is about how she visits peep shows on her way home from work, then gets involved in a disgusting relationship with one of her students… then kills him. or maybe she kills her mother. i forget. i’ve been trying to forget that book ever since i read it. german literature just isn’t for me.
-Decorative Bottles of Oil
you know the kind…they have little pieces of fruits and vegetables floating in them, and they’re supposed to look all pretty sitting there, useless, on your countertop. they even come with cooking instructions…although nobody ever actually uses them. yeah, they’re not that bad. sometimes they really do make a cute decoration depending on your decorating style. but i think i am suffering from over exposure. my MIL currently has at LEAST six bottles of that sh*t sitting on our kitchen counter…and i know for a fact that they over 6 years old. yuck.
-Diet Pills
no, i don’t care if they actually work. it’s just not worth it if they’ll make your heart explode, liquidate your liver, harden your kidneys, or give you cancer. seriously.
- 80′s Hair
you know it was bad.
That’s all i’ve got for now. don’t forget to add a few things in the comments if you feel so compelled. or impelled. WTF ever.
peace love and coffee
me.