Blog It Out, Bitch

by Perez, Nina

I've been extra bitchy lately. I'm always kinda bitchy. And mean. And selfish. And moody. But when you're waiting to push a baby out of your body and the days seem like weeks and just entering his beautiful nursery makes your nipples leak... well, you get a little extra everything.

  I had a routine doctor's appointment yesterday. I got up super early. Not out of dedication or preparedness. I just really had to pee. I pee about four times a night. Anyway, I got up around 6:30am. Donny got up then, too, and made me a breakfast of bacon, scrambled egg whites, toast, and juice. Then he went back to bed. It was decided that I'd be going to this appointment alone. I spent some time on the computer paying bills and then I got a bright idea...

  We had picked out a camcorder and we knew we were going to get it from Best Buy online because their online price was cheaper. Since there's a store near the doctor's office, I thought I'd pay for the camera online (using the $50 gift card they sent us ‘cause I completely bitched them out last week over the flat screen) and then pick it up in the store. They open at 10am and my appointment was at 10:30. So, at 9am I bought the camera and printed out the confirmation receipt needed for pickup.

  Donny saw me to the car at around 9:30 like I was headed for Iraq and not the hospital 20 minutes away.

  "I'll be fiiiiine."

  "I know. Just be careful."

  He says it's weird when I leave the house alone since I've been cooped up the whole pregnancy. Before, whenever he thought of the baby, all he had to do was look across the room, or find me upstairs to rub my belly. When I'm gone, so is the baby, and he said it was a reminder that he is truly with me all the time. I knew what he meant. The other day I went out to get some groceries, and I was cruising along thinking how nice it was to have alone time when he suddenly kicked as if to say, "Uh, no bitch. Not quite."

  Anyway, I get to Best Buy about ten minutes before they open so I sit in the first parking spot reserved for internet pick-ups. Now, some of you may remember a few months ago I had a large disagreement with a friend on MySpace and it was over people with children and people without, and what she perceived to be unfair advantages given to people (women) who choose to have kids. I wonder what her reaction is to the Expectant and New Mother parking spaces popping up at some businesses.

  To all the non-breeders out there who disagree, kiss my ass. Yeah, I chose to carry around a 6lb baby, 2lbs of amniotic fluid, 2 feet of umbilical cord, and to have my internal organs smushed and shifted. But that don't make this shit any less uncomfortable. If a few businesses want to hook my ass up with a cherry parking spot for my troubles, a-fuckin-men. I'm sure if everyone thought long and hard they'd find instances where they get over where others don't. It's called life. Sometimes it fucks you up the ass and sometimes it gives you sweet little perks simply for knowing how to use the damn internet.

  As it gets closer to ten I notice others waiting in their cars with the AC on (too hot to be standing at the door) including this super old couple in a monster SUV in the handicapped spot directly in front of me. When I noticed Grandpa had some papers in his hand that looked suspiciously like an internet confirmation, I knew I had to act fast. At two minutes till, he opened his car door and I damn near broke my neck to get out of my car. I may be a weeble-wobble, but he's still old and I was pretty sure I could take him. By the time I got to the door there was a nice size group of folks waiting behind me. And it's not like it was a single door through which only one person at a time could fit. They were those big sliding glass doors that should they open, anyone could push past me to enter first.

  I gave them all my best, "I wish a motherfucker would" face. Yeah, that's right; I played the Pregnant Card and the Angry Black Woman card. You know all that normal shit your bodies are doing? Digesting, pumping blood, etc? Yeah, well, mine is doing all of that... for two. I'm doing all that shit and growing a baby so, eat me.

  I sail through the store the moment the doors open and head straight for customer service. The young black guy who greets you and checks receipts smiles hello. I know he's like, "Damn. You been here four times in two weeks and you always have on that same dress." Well, fuck you too, Greeter Boy. I ain't tryna buy anymore big girl dresses or drawers. I'm rocking the same two dresses until I go into labor. Then I shall burn them.

  The pick-up was pretty uneventful though it did take a bit longer than one minute after handing over the receipt for the girl to fetch my order, and per their rules I coulda got $10 off because of that. But it was like a minute and some loose change and I had a doctor appointment to keep.

  As I was in the waiting room, I decided to check out the new camcorder cause I didn't have shit else to do. There was a seal on the box that said, "There's a 15 percent restocking fee if this item is returned opened." The seal was placed so that it would have to be broken if the box was opened. I opened the box and realized that they gave me the wrong damn camera. I ordered the Sapphire Blue one and they gave me the Ruby Red. Motherfuckers.

  I was furious and happy at the same time. I was going to go back there and get the fight I'd been itching to have for days now. I finally had someone to take out my frustrations on. I now had a legitimate reason to be a bitch to someone! And they betta not give me no shit about the broken seal or I'll beat 15 percent out that bitch's ass. But they shouldn't, I think, because I'm simply going to trade the camera in for another one, right?

  Then several women in the waiting room start talking about recording the birth and most seem sure that the hospital doesn't allow you to film delivery, only the labor. Well, fuck me. That's the reason we bought the damn camera! We were scheduled to tour the hospital that night and I mentally kicked myself for not waiting until after that before buying the damn camera. Whatever, they still better not give me no shit, even if I return it.

  I just knew that once I told the doctor how miserable I was she'd immediately hook me up with some magic medicine that would make me more comfortable, able to sleep at night, and hopefully something to make the next few weeks fly by. Uh, no. She, another young, black, cute thing named Dr. S, was like, "Yeah, um, that's how it goes. Nothing we can do. It will be over soon." I wanted to punch her in the mouth.

  She measured me and then pushed and kneaded my belly like modeling clay. "Oh yeah, this is going to be a good sized baby."

  "What do you mean?" my suddenly frightened asshole wanted to know.

  "I'd say he's about 6lbs now. He could potentially be 8lbs by delivery."

  Lovely.

  I carry myself, and my juicy baby, back to Best Buy and explain the mix up to the girl behind the counter. "Oh, let me see what happened." Bitch, I just told you what happened. I ordered blue, I got red. Simple. Never mind the fact that on the fucking box is a big ass picture of the camera in red or that it says Rouge/Red on the side. I didn't see that because when the heifer gave me the camera, it was already in the bag and no, I didn't bother to check because well... I didn't. Look, I'm pregnant, I outweigh you, and I really want to beat someone's ass so if you're volunteering, fine by me. OK, so I didn't say all that. But it was all over my face.

  While she's off "investigating" I start to feel sick. My hands start shaking, I get all sweaty, and I think I'm going to pass out. And I'm thinking, "Please Lord, don't let my big ass hit this floor. That would be embarrassing as fuck." She returns with the right camera, apologizes, and I give a look like, "Better had," but I think it lost some of its bite due to the whole pale and sweaty thing I had going on.

  I knew what was wrong. My ass was hungry. It had been a good five hours since I'd eaten. I make a quick stop at the temptation items they have by the exit. I require the assistance of a manager to reach the Sprite, Snickers bar, Twizzlers, and pretzels because they were all really low and I can't bend. Don't judge me! I think half the Snickers bar was gone before I cleared the parking lot.

  Big Poppy and Blue Eyes

  July 14, 2008

  Last night Donny was watching some home run derby or something or other on ESPN. I was on the laptop playing Slingo Q
uest when I happened to look up and notice this black guy in the stands that the camera kept focusing on.

  "Who's that?" I asked.

  "Big Poppy."

  "What?"

  "That's his name."

  "Don't call him that."

  Then a woman starts interviewing him and the caption has his name listed as David Ortiz (I think it was David, but I'm positive it was Ortiz.)

  "Oh, his name is David Ortiz." I said.

  "Yeah, I couldn't remember his name."

  "Well, remember it from now on."

  A moment later a commentator refers to Mr. Ortiz as Big Poppy.

  "See, he just did it." Donny said.

  "I don't care what he just did. You never call him that again. I just don't want to hear my husband refer to another grown ass man as Big Poppy. Biggie never had men calling him Big Poppa. Only bitches and hos. It just wasn't done.”

  A bit later...

  We were watching Sunday night's Big Brother when the black girl pointed out that her children are biracial (her husband is white) and that her five month old twins (a boy and a girl) are very different. Her daughter has blond hair, blue eyes and white like the father, and the son is brown like her. Donny asks...

  "What if the baby has blue eyes."

  "He won't."

  "How do you know?"

  "Remember a few weeks ago I asked if any of your siblings had blue eyes or anyone in your family that you could think of? I was looking it up on the internet. The possibility... and there is none. I don't remember the details but it's something about a gene that at least one of us has to have and neither of us do."

  "Yeah, but I don't know anything about my Dad's side of the family and he was German."

  Donny's Dad was killed by a drunk driver when Donny was a small boy.

  I sighed. "Donny, I already have one child that makes people look at me like I'm the nanny. Can I just have one chocolate drop of a baby?"

  "Sure. A chocolate drop with blue eyes."

  This conversation was particularly weird because earlier that day, all out of nowhere, Kali asked me, "Mommy, what if the baby has blue eyes?"

  "Then Mommy got some 'splainin' to do."

  "Huh?"

  "Never mind."

  I Have the Worst Poop Luck

  September 5, 2008

  Since this blog is going to be about poop I might as well address something I've been meaning to write about for months now.

  I hate pooping.

  Intellectually, I know why we need to do it. But emotionally, it bothers me. I hate everything about pooping - The way it feels, the way it smells, the time it takes, and the way a particularly nasty one can leave you feeling like you need a shower. You know what I mean. A poop so bad wiping ain't enough. You might as well jump straight into the shower when you're done.

  Back when I used to smoke, and work at MCI, I would go out to big lunches almost every day. And without fail, as soon as I got back to my desk, my friend Shay would shoot me an IM and ask if I wanted to go out for a cig. We'd go smoke and when we were done, she'd head for the bathroom. She said after a meal and a smoke she always had to poop and she looked forward to it. It was her afternoon delight. I thought it was absolutely disgusting and preferred to do all my pooping at home. My stepfather had to start everyday with a hearty poop. He looked forward to it. If I had to begin every day with a dump I'd be one depressed bitch.

  Remember the poop blog where I got poop on not in my hand? Remember that it got all over my platinum and diamond wedding rings and I was torn as to what to clean first, my hand or my rings? And I chose my rings cause that’s how I roll? Remember the blog where I got so drunk I had it coming out both ends and I actually took a moment to ponder should I shit in the tub while vomiting in the toilet or vice versa? See? I tell you all my poop stories. Well, except one. I never told you the Poopy Pillow story. I know this because after it happened Donny laughed so hard with tears in his eyes and said, "You need to blog about that!" And I responded, "Shut the fuck up. No I don't."

  Well, here's another... that just happened like five minutes ago.

  I've been wearing glasses since the beginning of my pregnancy. I can't wear contacts while pregnant because they irritate my eyes. Also, I've been wearing green contacts since I was 17 and just like when Kali was born, I felt it kinda weird to have your newborn get to know you, look you in the eyes, and not see your real eyes. So, I wear glasses now except when I'm up close with Jack and then I take them off because I want him to really look into my eyes. Anyway, my point again, is that I wear glasses.

  A few minutes ago I went to the bathroom. I had to poop and pee. I took my new book, Twilight, because I can't put the fucker down. I'm serious. I'm thisclose to scrawling Edward Cullen all over my Trapper Keeper with little hearts and arrows. So, I'm on the bowl reading and doing my thing. I wipe and then notice there's a dead spider on the floor. Great. Either Kali or Donny killed the spider, but didn't bother to clean it up. I grab another wad of tissue and deposit the corpse in the toilet. Then, I'm not really sure what happened.

  I blame the damn book. Instead of just putting the damn book down so I could pull up my pants, flush, wash my hands, etc., I'm trying to still read and do all those things and somehow my glasses fell off my face and into the pissy, poopy, spidery carcass water.

  GROSS!

  If I'd stopped to think about it too much, I might have just tried to flush those fuckers down the toilet with everything else. But instinct kicked in, and before I could think of the nastiness of my actions, I reached in, grabbed the glasses, and tossed them in the bathroom sink. I activated the stopper and filled the sink with hot, scalding water. I added some hand soap, and a healthy shot of Mr. Clean.

  See? I have the worst poop luck!

  I would share the Poopy Pillow story, but it's bad. That's between me, Donny, the pillow, and God.

  The Day Donny Has Been Waiting For

  September 18, 2008

  As of this Monday, Jack is six-weeks-old. Six weeks is the length of time given for a woman to recover from a vaginal delivery. Now, I can take baths, use tampons, have sex, and lift objects heavier than my son. I know I've been all judgmental towards women who had sex before the six weeks were up. And I felt bad about that. Until I gave birth to Jack, and realized three weeks later that I definitely didn't want anyone going near my vagina. Hell, I could barely walk down the stairs. I'm still feeling kinda unsure on my feet at times, and my pelvic bones aches, but I think it's my body getting used to all this damn weight!

  But, I'm not alone. Over the past 11 months Donny has put on sympathy weight. He's 20lbs heavier. He hates it. I love it. I feel like he evened the playing field. Besides, he was skinny before so 20lbs ain't gonna kill him. I think he looks great. Then again, I can't remember the last time I had sex so everyone looks good to me. I'm watching School for Scoundrels now and having dirty thoughts about Billy Bob Thorton.

  We've been working out together on the Wii Fit. We were both skeptical as to whether or not it could provide a real workout. It does. I was using it before Donny so he wasn't aware of all the features. That damn Wii Fit can be mean! First of all, when I step on the balance board it will sometimes exclaim, "Oh!" Like, "Oh, it's like that! You're bigger than I expected, but that's okay. That's why I'm here; to get your big ass in shape." Last night we worked out even though we usually try to work out between 5am and 6am. When I did the daily body test it told me I'd gained a pound since the day before. Then it suggests that I think about why that is. THEN, it makes you choose from a list as to why your big ass is still big. Donny nearly rolled off the couch laughing.

  "That's cruel."

  "I know," I sighed as I pointed the controller at the screen and chose, "Eats too much."

  Another thing I'm able to do is resume my wifely duties of cooking every night. In preparation for this, I made my first serious grocery shopping trip since getting pregnant. Donny and I headed out to the Super Wal-Mart this morning with Jack. People
would take one look at Donny and me, and want to peek in the stroller. Almost everyone we encountered. I don't know if it's 'cause we're an interracial couple or I'm so fine. Either way, they just had to see what we produced and they were never disappointed.

  "He's so handsome!'

  "I know, right?!" I kid, I kid. I would just respond with a humble, "Thank you."

  It's funny watching the new Donny shop. He wanted to buy the worst foods. I had to remind him that we're both trying to lose weight so we needed to keep the snack foods to a minimum. Donny wanted to buy Halloween candy now.

  "Let's get some Caramel Apple kisses."

  "Let's not."

  "Why not?"

  "Donny, that candy will be gone before October gets here."

  Then...

  "Oooh, Chicken in a Biskit."

  "No."

  "Come on, they're fat-free."

  "Yeah, too bad they're not nasty-free."

  Anyway, not only is life getting back to normal since Jack was born; it's a better kind of normal. We, of course, have our moments. Sometimes we're a little sleep deprived and we'll snap at each other, but for the most part we laugh and smile a lot more than we ever did. And sometimes it's just the simplest things that will set us off, like pulling out of the Wal-Mart parking lot today.

  "What's that guy doing?"

  "Which one?"

  "Donny, the guy right there with the cigarette."

  "Nina, that's a woman."

  "Nuh-uh," I say, craning my neck from the back seat to get a better look.

  "Nina, I'm telling you, that's a woman. She's a manager here."

  "But... but.. look at the rat-tail."

  An Answer to an Age Old Question

  September 22, 2008

  The answer to "If a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, does it still make a sound?," is the same as the answer to, "If you do something humiliating and there's no one around to witness it, do you still feel like a fucktard?"