Sweety and I got up super early, loaded Bean up and hit the road at around 4:30 a.m. to visit a friend who is in prison.
I’d stayed up late the night before packing things because I know that you can only take certain things into the visiting yard and I knew that if Bean got hungry that I couldn’t breastfeed her there, I’d need to go into the bathroom. To avoid that, I thought I’d pack some bottles of milk for the trip and take the breastpump. My plan was to give her bottled milk and pump and dump milk out so I didn’t get uncomfortable.
The place is about 5 hours away and about halfway there we stopped for a bit (Bean had slept this whole time) and fed Bean and took off again. We stopped again for a drive-thru breakfast when we were about 30 minutes from the destination and Sweety found a quiet spot to park so I could feed Bean. Bean wasn’t hungry. Okay. I’ll just pump milk! Except during my methodical packing? I’d forgotten one of the parts to the pump. I figured that it would be okay. Bean would get good and hungry and I’d just tote her into the bathroom there and feed her.
Apparently, when you are a prison visitor they search you very carefully. The guard had me go into a room and said that I needed to “shake out your bra”. I didn’t know what the fuck she meant. Was I supposed to take it off and shake it out like there were breadcrumbs in it that were itching me and I was evicting them? So, I very respectfully told her that I didn’t quite understand what I should do and she advised me to grab the bottom of my bra and pull it away from my body and then shake so if anything was in there it would fall out. The only thing that fell out was my boobs which I hurriedly tucked back as she told me I could leave the room. I’ve gotta say, the guards and staff there were really nice. I think they could tell that Sweety and I didn’t have any visiting experience and they were all very non-dickish.
We were visiting our friend and Bean had started chewing on my face so I took her into the bathroom instead of giving her the bottle. Oh, hell to the no. She got pissed off that I’d taken her away from people-watching and just lost her shit in the bathroom. I decided that the last place I needed someone overhearing my baby scream her fool head off and questioning my parenting skills was a prison bathroom so I took her out and poked the bottle in her mouth. Problem solved. Well, problem solved for her. My tits were starting to feel explosive.
We left about ninety minutes after this and Bean fell asleep as soon as she was tucked into the car. She started waking up and we stopped at a rest area and I tried to feed her. Nope. Not happening. I swear, she chewed on my lumpy, hurting, milk infested nip and smiled around it. I knew damn good and well that she was hungry because it had been a good bit of time since she’d eaten but she just wasn’t having it.
We stopped again a little later and she ate for maybe two minutes before the lure of watching cars zoom past became too much to bear and her attention was diverted. At this point, if I had a Terror Alert label? It would have been flaming red.
Sweety suggested I locate the nearest Wallyworld and he would go in and get the part I needed. He goes into the store and comes out and hands me the bag. I’m excitedly digging into the bag as he zooms back onto the interstate, ready to cry tears of happiness when I realize that the part he purchased didn’t fit the pump. Those tears quickly turned to tears of “OMGthisshithurtsandI’mfucked” Two hours later we made it home without my titties splitting open from the fire ant feeling that was inside and I was able to take care of business.
A conversation with Sweety during this.
You know…I could go into a bathroom and hand express this out but I’ll only get a little bit in 30 minutes. You should suck it out.
Dude. Seriously. Think about it. I suck your dick and swallow that shit for fun. At the very least, you could eat something I produce that’s actually made for eating!
He offered to in the end but I declined. He likes his cow’s milk on ice and I was afraid he’d vomit if he had to have warm stuff in his mouth and wouldn’t finish the job and I’d have to kick him in the head out of fury.
Shit I learned:
Don’t forget any parts to the breast-pump and depend on Bean to do her job of eating because traveling might throw her off schedule and into a hunger strike.
How to make a sandwich using Ramen noodles for bread if I’m ever incarcerated.
I’ll just keep on being a law-abiding citizen because I have zero desire to eat a Ramen sandwich.
Here. More pleasant things.
Some mad toe-sucking action.
She fell asleep sucking them the other day and I about died laughing.
Here she is in a new romper. I just discovered these little stretchy rompers and I am resisting the urge to get her one for every day of the week. This photo was taken after I’d gotten home one night and found it in the mail. I couldn’t stand to wait until she was clean and rested to put it on – that’s why she’s got little tired black eyes.
I could have probably gotten another one in there if he’d have held still. He was too surprised to try and escape for the first one.
I yanked it out and Tiny Dog ate it.
Oh. About 3 minutes after typing the above, Sweety started writhing around in agony. It seems that a piece of the cracker broke off and he sniffed it into his sinus cavity. Don’t worry. We got it out and I’ve promised to not poke anything in there ever again. And for what it’s worth – he totally deserved having it stuck up in there in the first place. It’s not like I arbitrarily shoved a cracker in there.
Here. Gratuitous Bean video from the day she really started noticing her feet.
Since I failed a glucose test on Monday because my blood sugar level was so high – I got to take another one yesterday. Instead of having one blood draw like Monday’s, this one had four. Do you know what happens if you’ve been fasting and aren’t allowed to drink any water? You start to shrivel up like a raisin and your veins become hard to find. My arm still hurts today.
On Wednesday I went to have a weird looking mole checked. The doctor agreed that it was weird looking and asked if I wanted it off now or after the baby was born. I asked if I could have anesthesia if it came off now and he said I could but it was injected not something that was rubbed on. Or I could just have them slice it off without anesthesia.
So, how long will it take you to whack it off.
Not long. Maybe a minute.
Thinking to myself….A minute? I’m probably going to live at least another 45 years…what’s a minute in the scheme of 45 years? That’s nothing! I can do this! Okay! Let’s take it off now!
The doctor took a needle full of saline and injected it under the mole to make it raise off of my belly (and that part hurt like hell, thank you very much) and then proceeded to slice it off. Holy shit, batman. It was like fire. I was telling myself to be calm so the Bean wouldn’t think we were being tortured or something. It’s hard to keep your heart from racing when something is cutting on you. I am glad it is gone.
The boys were with me and when I came out of the office, they remarked that I looked a little pale. I had to wait for the shaking to stop before I could drive us away. I can handle pain in a dignified manner but I sure don’t like it.
Our house is still a giant mess. We’re walking around on concrete with furniture crammed into odd places while we wait for the insurance check from the water damage to arrive. Sweety has everything prepped to start replacing things once we have the money for it. I look around at the disarray and want to pull my hair out. It’s no secret that I’m not the most organized person but it appears that I do have limits to the clutter that I can stand.
Here’s what we’ve been doing for fun while watching television….
Tiny Dog really loves to hump the living shit out of Oliver but he’s not really a fan. She can usually only get a couple of good thrusts in before he dismounts her. We’ve discovered that Oliver is a big enough slut for our attention though that he’ll let her ride away as long as we’re petting him. I find it hilarious and they both get something they want. It’s a win-win situation!
The hole in the carpet? That’s where Sweety upchucked during the great pukefest of 2011 and I made him cut the carpet out. That vomit actually soaked through the carpet and into the concrete. That’s the disgusting discolored patch up top. I’m going to clean it with a blowtorch before we put down new carpet.