I had a dream that a pair of sunglasses was pulled out of my vagina by my 3-year-old. Not only that, but then ensued a conversation about why it's not ok to pull things out of mommy's vagina. What. The. Fuck.

Obviously, my vagina's very shiny.

Insies on the Outsies

Please be careful after giving birth. Remember that you pushed a giant human out your vagina. The pelvic floor has been challenged and it's a strong set of muscles that needs you to LEAVE IT ALONE. I have two friends who had full prolapses. I don't think either of these people did anything wrong, but just so you know, it does happen.

My midwife the first time around was adamant that I NOT go downstairs for days after I gave birth. It might have even been a week or two, I don't remember now. My second midwife was also strict about this. For some strange reason, my friends who gave birth in hospitals seem not to have gotten this advice. Both midwives explain that it helps avoid prolapse (when your insides drive their way through your weakened pelvic floor and end up outside.)

Prolapse is NO FUCKING JOKE (although my friends are assholes who tell jokes about it anyway "How's it hangin'?" and such.) It does happen and it presents long term recovery challenges to the mom. I think people are generally ashamed/embarrassed to talk about it so I'm putting it out there. Please don't go run races two weeks post partum, or immediately go to vacuuming your house, or running up and down stairs. Let. Your. Body. Rest.

Because some shit they forget to tell some mamas is your insies can end up on the outsies if you don't.

The Clit is HOW big???

At 34, I learned the shape of the clitoris. I thought it was a little bean-shaped thing but it turns out it's a huge organ, the only one exclusively for pleasure. And I'd consider my sexual openness/knowledge to be well above average. So here it is.

Cliteracy is an Art/Public Awareness Campaign by artist, Sophia Wallace. A video about it is here.
 http://vimeo.com/59497570

Here's a Huffpost Article about her art installment
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/08/28/cliteracy_n_3823983.html

More on Toddler poop

I should clarify that when I made my son pick up his own feces off the floor, it was the third time he had pooped on the floor.  The first two, I was cool as a cucumber.  He started doing it during timeouts.  Timeouts I was probably overusing to correct his behavior.  He's a very verbal kid.  Tonight at dinner, he looked at Rob and said "Daddy, stop making faces at me and be serious.  I'm trying to ask you a question."  He turns three on Saturday. 

The thing about verbal kids is that when they talk to you so much, you start to forget how little they still are.  How they need to be held and babied and led very, very carefully.  And, I'm a little sleep deprived most of the time and A LOT sleep deprived some of the time.  So I had a little poop coming my way.

The truth of it is, I'm glad he started shitting on the floor.  It made me take stock.  I had to realize that he needed me to spend time telling him we were spending time together, focusing on spending time together.  I had to give him extra hugs.  I had to stop using time out so much.  I wasn't using it right.  I started sitting with him in it and showing him how to take deep breaths to calm down. 

And we went back to sticker charts for all the potty-business.  So now life is good.  I can't tell you how many times I've dug a hole and held him over it so he could poop.  (with a baby in a front carrier to boot!)

Poop vs. Song

My second baby is six months old today.  That's a half a year!  And while I haven't slept through an entire night in what feels like infinity, and I have not pooped with the door closed in nearly 3 years, I am surpremely happy.  I think it's all the scribbling and singing silly songs.  If you don't do a lot of that with your kids, I will tell you the three things that make me get along best with my toddler when he's getting annoying:  singing silly songs (I recommend Brass Monkey, by the Beastie Boys, b/c then your toddler will sing it later while going down the echoey stairs and that's seriously funny stuff,) scribbling with wild abandon, and wrestling (great for aggression release when you're getting stupidly pissed at the small cave person's attitude problem, because seriously, they can be infuriating but getting mad is just stupid b/c the poor small person's brain just hasn't developed yet.  Take a deep breath and wrestle about it.)

If you can't do those things, walking away to count to a thousand and take some deep breaths is totally a good idea.  I know b/c some shit I knew but chose to ignore was that sometimes toddlers shit on the floor in defiance.  And my kid did that a couple weeks ago.  Congratulations to me b/c I didn't kill him.  I barely even yelled.  I did, however, grab his hand and make him pick it up.  We've spent some time since then singing songs, scribbling, and wrestling.  And I can honestly say our household is once again happy.

Why is there an upside-down stool in the middle of the room and a batman character imbedded in the middle off my back?  Because, your house goes to absolute shit when you have two kids.  Don't let your multi-child friends fool you at some dinner party.  There are secret stashes of crap they pushed into closets at the last minute or grandma just visited for two weeks and cleaned or soemthing.  Your friends with two kids and an organized house are fooling you.

Your house goes to shit when you have two kids.  At least if they're both small AND you have the normal variety of husband that doesn't do housework unless something is green and growing out of a hole somewhere or you specifically asked, and then asked again, and then flatout told him to do it.  No, right now. 

So, normal every day folks' houses go to shit.  And it's uncomfortable.  There's WAY more clutter than I can handle and by the quantity of laundry we do, you'd think there was a village in the back of my house that I'm secretly taking in the washing for in order to make ends meet.  But no, this is just how much there is.  The dog hasn't had a bath in three months and the bathrooms floor only gets cleaned when someone drops something or I cut the kiddo's hair in there.  But the kids and I are clean and well-fed so ... my house is just shit for a while. 

Don't stop by.  Or do.  It's really your call if you can handle it.  I like living.  So, I have to let the house be shitty so I can write and shower and eat and ski and do crafts with Magnus and read books and build forts.  So if you can look past the mess, I'll share a glass of wine with you in a zebra print fort.  If you can't, I understand.  I can't really either.  Thus the wine.

Getting Pregnant Again

The second your first baby is born, you think "I'm never doing this again."  You know the pain.  You know the trauma.  You're so happy to not be pregnant anymore. But then sex feels all good and you like your partner again and you get a lil lazy with the birth control and BAM! You're pregnant again. 

The second pregnancy will be completely different than the first.  Everyone tells you this.  This is the reverse of the shit no one tells you.  It's the shit everyone tells you but you don't believe a single one of them.  It was so different, I was shocked to find that this baby was also a boy.  I was completely convinced that since I had so much more energy and felt so much better, it must be a girl.  Nope.  The second pregnancy is just different.

So is the second birth.  Totally different.  I'm telling you.  But you probably won't believe me.  Or you'll be the exception and be all, "My pregnancies were totally the same." 

So I had another baby, I know, I know, shocking.  Why, wasn't it just two years ago I was writing this blog and deathly fearing the idea of having another one?  Yes, yes it was.  Nature and biology and sexytimes are neat like that. I found out I was pregnant three days before I started grad school.  So it goes.  Onward and upward! 

So I had another baby.  Another boy.  At home again.  And it was rad.  It went way, WAY better than last time.  I didn't get quite as huge.  I still have thirty pounds to lose but hey, it's not 60 like last time so that's good.  I didn't push for two hours.  I pushed once.  And the whole danged baby came out, which was cool. 

I will swear by two things about childbirth and they are: red raspberry leaf tea and orgasms.  Each should happen daily and if you need to masturbate to make that happen-- do it.  If you don't, you're a bitch who is obviously married to some pornstar-grade-piece-of-man-meat and you'll probably have some flat, perfect stomach four weeks after labor too.  I mean, you're a lovely woman and we should have tea some time.  Or something.

It never occurred to me that I could get a uterine infection.  I had a short labor.  I had NO cervical checks.  Which is not normal unless you're at home, and I was.  Which also lowers your risk of infection.  Yet, five days after I had Gavin, there I was feeling like I had the flu.  It hurt to move my eyeballs.  My stomach was distended, which was hard to see since it just looked like it hadn't gone down from getting fat and having a baby yet.  And it hurt like balls to touch my belly anywhere.  A uterine infection is no joke.  It's one of those things that used to kill women.  It can go systemic and kill you pretty quickly actually because it's an organ in the middle of your stomach that is connected to a lot of blood supply.  Which means your whole body can go septic quickly.  No joke.  Thankfully it's 2013, so I got on some antibiotics and was ok pretty quickly. 

I did NOT get hemorrhoids this time though.  Neat.

I did have hot flashes like a middle aged lady- perfectly normal at the end of pregnancy and immediately following birth.  Hormones, of course.  Interestingly, my doctor confessed that she had had this exact problem and that in all her years of practice and training, no one had told her about this possibility.  There's always some shit no one tells you it seems.