The I'm-Pretty-Sure-I-Didn't-Cup-His-Balls Massage Experience (First World Problems)

I have no time. I really don't. My time is at an utmost premium now. If I have some time when the baby is asleep, or out with Daddy for a bit, I need to plan for it, schedule it, and maximize the hell out of it.

Phone calls and Skype are sheer luxury. I decided to just call my Mom and Dad to chat the other day, despite an unhappy baby, and I moved into the next room. (Don't worry, the Hubs was with her, I didn't actually abandon her and leave her with the dogs or anything). And she crawled for real for the first time. That's what happens when I step away. I miss important things with my baby.

I digress.

So, after much planning, thinking, hoping and aching (muscles, not loins, people), I scheduled an evening massage so that the Hubs would be home with Baby D, and I could go get some of this I'm-tired-and-slumpy posture pain, neck pain, back pain, and general muscle blah-ness revitalized.

I had to book two weeks ahead. The anticipation was killing me. I even booked with a DUDE, on the advice of my chiropractor (also a luxury - my last appointment consisted of both her and I trying to calm the baby's cries, as I rocked her in the car seat with one outstretched arm while the chiro TRIED to adjust me). I think I left feeling worse.

So, onto the massage. A wispy guy, quite thin (WARNING SIGN - how's this dude going to beat the hell out of me sufficiently?) greeted me and we proceeded to the treatment room.

Now, I am fat. It's true. I'm still 50 pounds heavier than the day I found out I was pregnant. I will detail another post on that in the future, but let's just say anyone around me appreciates a dimly lit room. Especially when even XL underwear can't contain my crack and all-that-is the junk in my trunk.

Nope, this dude preferred intense fluorescent light. Okay.

Tucks the sheet into said underwear. We both know my crack is still hanging out, looking to make small talk. Epic. With every sweeping motion on my back, I can feel my love handles and butt just bouncing about.

It was mixed parts I-feel-so-gross-I-want-to-curl-up-and-disappear and... no, actually it was pretty much just that.

It was all soft and Swedish-like. I am a masochist at heart and I need lots of pressure and knots to be WORKED OUT, MAWFAHCKAH. This dude felt like he was swiffering my fat. I asked for more pressure. He didn't really change anything.

Within the first 10 minutes, I nearly cried. I waited and looked forward to this so badly. I needed some pain relief. I was about to lose an hour of my baby-free time on a sad, pathetic massage. I wanted to just ask him to stop, say let's forget it, but the cheapskate in me knew that I'd have to pay either way. So I laid there, bummed to the max (both literally and figuratively) and hoped it would improve.

It did not. It got worse.

This guy had no hand rest below the face-holder hole. So I put my arms at my sides. The table left little room for my arms (or rather, my wide torso left little room for my arms). And that's when I'm sure it happened. As he was leaning in to do his trademark swiffer move, I'm quite sure that his junk landed squarely in my upturned right palm.

I told myself I'm sure I'm just imagining. Just relax. And it probably isn't considered cheating on the Hubs if there is both sheet and pants-protection between my palm and the dude's junk. Amirite?

Then it happened again.

I actually felt revolted and full body shuddered. He stopped swiffering and asked if I was okay. I said yes and tried to glue my arms and hands to the sides of my body. You know, total relaxation.

I shouldn't really be surprised, considering my track record. I blogged about some bad experiences back in the day on this post here, and also on this one.

Before the massage started, I had asked if he could massage hips. I know some therapists aren't comfortable because it usually means manipulating stuff through your butt cheeks. He asked why they were hurting and I said mostly from carrying the baby in a carrier.

Well, throughout we had a definite language barrier. This became painfully clear when he massaged my MUFFIN TOP. I guess he thought that was my hips? Jesus I just wanted him to stop and go away. No woman needs to feel her muffin top moving around like that. That ACKNOWLEDGMENT of the fat there. No, let's all pretend there is nothing to see here, and move on!

Ahhh, anyway, after the longest time it was finally over. And to just sweeten the experience, as I was getting dressed afterwards, I had to use my typical force to get my too-small jeans over my too-quickly-expanding arse. The ultimate feel good wave rushed over me as the belt loop I was gripping ACTUALLY RIPPED OUT of my jeans, unable to overthrow the force of my arse-resistance.

I left the room to pay, head hanging in shame and defeat.

I wish I looked this good...

But not before two (new, wrapped) super-plus tampons fell out of my purse, in front of the two older men in the waiting room. What's that you ask? Why, yes, I *DID* stomp on them as I fumbled for my credit card! No, no I *DIDN'T* realize what they were or that they were mine until one of the men wouldn't meet my gaze as I said hello and I happened to look down and see them.

Gawd, I feel so attractive right now.... Pass me another Coke. And I seem to be craving muffins now, too.....


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A Wonderful Moment

I had fully anticipated writing about 6 snarky, embarrassing posts since the last one or two. I always tend to write them in my head when I am out somewhere, or when I am rocking the baby to sleep. I never seem to do it. Or justify spending the time.

But this afternoon I had such a wonderful moment, I just have to document it here. I don't want to forget it, and I always mean to put pen to paper in the baby book or her notebook, and then I always forget.

Baby D has been fairly unhappy - whining a lot, not letting me out of her sight. Teething, tired, hungry, and who knows. Often, when different or new people are around, she is quite smiley or at least not totally miserable, and the other person has no idea what it's been like for weeks in and out of her being so hard to soothe.

But... this afternoon...

Earlier, she woke up from her nap around 11ish. A touch unhappy, but willing to giggle if I jumped in her direction or made funny sounds. Her smiling was encouraging and it made me smile.

I showered fast (just the vitals, as us new moms seem to do), and she was getting impatient. I got dressed, got her dressed, took a short movie of her and a few pics. I had intended on going to get bulk stuff at Costco - I've been meaning to go for a few weeks, and I am antsy to get it done.

I knew I'd have to time it right, and hope she'd last. She usually gets upset in there, but The Hubs hasn't gotten his membership card, and I refuse to go on the weekends. So that means bringing her in the day if I want to get the latest sale.

I had a feeling she wouldn't do well. And to be quite blunt, I am so sick of not enjoying her; I try to soothe her upset while I run around the house trying (fairly unsuccessfully) to clean up, wash dishes, do laundry and tend to the dogs. I am always behind on house work, the clutter builds, yet I am trying and stressing and worrying what The Hubs will think when he sees the state of the place at the end of the day.

I decided to fuck it.

I wanted to enjoy my baby this afternoon. I got out her light snowsuit. The sun was shining and the sky was blue. I got her bundled up in my Ergo carrier, got the dog harnessed, and we walked outside. We talked about the trees. We walked up the path and talked about dog poo. And how much Mommy loves her Baby. And we talked about the sounds of nature, and how pretty it is, and how peaceful it can be if you just stop and take it in.

On our walk today... she looks unimpressed, but we had fun. I enjoyed my baby immensely today.

We stopped and listened to the water rushing past in the stream. I could see her little blue eyes taking in the trees, the moss, the rocks. I could see her look to where I was pointing... where the birdies were chirping. When we started walking again, she squawked at me to stop. I did, and she quieted and listened to the water and the birds again.

It was beautiful. Even the dog was relatively good.

We walked home. We had some lunch, and she ate some cheddar and puree like a rock star. She smiled when I tickled her feet. It made me feel so happy. We even went without a bib and avoided total shirt destruction.

I knew she was ready for sleep again. We went to her room, and I nursed her with the little, dwindling milk supply I have left. She stared in wonder at the sunshine as it made a new pattern on my shoulder, through the slats of the blinds. She smiled.

She wasn't falling asleep right away on the pillow, which was unusual for her if she is pooped. So I turned her, facing the same way as me, and we rocked together. She touched her toes, and I put little kisses all over the side of her face, her head and her hair, and her ears. I didn't hold her tightly to be still, I didn't change anything.

She chewed on my fingers a bit, and talked a little. Kept making the "mumumum" sound. And then she did something totally beautiful.

She turned her head to me, mouth wide open, to give me a series of Baby D kisses. It was so incredibly sweet, my heart nearly exploded in my chest.

And I thanked her and kissed her head.
And then she turned and gave me Baby D kisses for a second time!

After that, she rolled her head to the side, and fluttered her eyes as she fell asleep. She stirred awake, and I whispered in her ear that I will love her always and forever.

Then she closed her eyes and was off to sleep.
I rocked her for a while still while the tears of gratitude, joy and love spilled down my cheeks. Her little toes still, her little hand wrapped over my arm. I am so lucky to be her Mamma.

It's the moments like these that are a reminder that it's not always hard. That sometimes the house is better off being a mess. That a Mamma should sometimes (if not always) just trust her gut and choose to enjoy her baby while she can.

And now she's already awake... that was a fast nap.

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Winning. I Think.

Hey, like me on Facebook, dammit. I'm pathetic on there.

I'm pretty sure I'm winning at life when all in the same day I:

• Chew the Vitamin C from the kitchen counter that is, in fact, not at all chewable.
• Put the yogurt away long after breakfast. In the dry pantry.
• Assume my coffee cup is empty and casually carry it downstairs to the kitchen, only to discover it was not empty and I've left a trail of vanilla-hazelnut-carpet-stainyness down the ENTIRE F_CKING carpeted staircase.
• Lay down to empty the washing machine filter to see water rush out... and moments later feel my socks become saturated (5' away)... and THEN see that the laminate floor, wood trim, cable box, and associated power cords have been flooded with water.

Stop hatin'.
This can be yours one day, too.

Just hit yourself over the head a few times and piss the Universe off. Nothin' doin'.


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