The end of an era

I'm interrupting the storytelling to tell you to go make this cake.  Make it.  Now.

Yes, it is the color and consistency of baby poop but never mind that.

If you like pumpkin bread, you must make this cake.  It does not get easier than two ingredients and bake.  This is my second slice because the first

*and* THIRD slice disappeared into my belly before I could snap a picture.

You know how some people say 'I may or may not be eating as I type this?'

Guess what, I AM eating.  Proudly.  My FOURTH piece.

Right now, because it's that good.

The pan may or may not be gone by the time I'm done with this post.

Ok, now that I've gotten that into my belly off of my chest let's continue, shall we?

When I left off last night, I was boasting about how well my baby did on the flights to and from Hawaii.  I on the other hand, nearly died on the way there.

We were going to be gone for ten days and we were up until two in the morning getting everything ready for our trip.  I didn't want to forget anything, because I knew that one shirt or pair of shorts of mine or the baby's would turn out to be the most vital piece and without it, all would be ruined.  I'd never been to Kauai and I didn't want to risk needing the one thing they didn't have on the island.  So I checked and triple checked that we had everything.

Additionally, we had to get the house ready.  It turned out that we had eight showings in the ten days we were gone and not one of those mother-effers put in an offer.  Seriously, when the F is this stupid house going to sell?  we had to leave the house in showing condition, so no underwear draped over the mirror in the last-minute mad dash.

We also emptied the fridge.  Into our bellies.  Let me be the PSA for all of you about to travel or who might make the same mistake I did:

If your food is even the tiniest bit questionable, throw it the hell out.  Don't tell yourself that it's ok, that it doesn't smell *that* bad, that all you have to do is cook it and it'll be fine.  Don't feel bad about wasting it, because you don't want the alternative.  Throw that shit in the garbage. 

*Several* weeks ago, we went to the farmer's market and bought lots of fresh fruits and veggies.  We all know my history with food and cooking, right?  Well, I've been meal planning with the help of the almighty Pinterest, (psst, follow me) and I've actually been doing well with cooking tasty, healthy dinners for us.  As long as I have a recipe, and it's not too hard, and I have all the ingredients and there's not too much prep.

My wheels come off when I buy things that have no recipe.  Such was the case of the Brussels sprouts.  They were so plump and yummy looking at the market and I just knew I could find a recipe for them, and I did.

Exhibit A:  The Brussels Sprouts of Death

from here

The problem is that I had no other meal components to go with my sprouts, so they sat in the fridge until I could find a suitable main dish.  And they sat.  And sat.  And had the audacity *NOT* to grow mold so as to clearly tell me they were no good.  They also didn't smell *that* bad, because let's face it, you don't buy Brussels sprouts for how they smell.

The night before we left, we ate a hodge podge of what was left in the fridge and I had the Brussels sprouts as my meal.  Drew ate a couple but I had the majority, and honestly the maple and cayenne made them pretty tasty.

However, at three that morning, I knew I'd made a grave mistake.  My stomach was staging a coup and it was violent.  I had the worst gas pain of my life and I tried my hardest to ahem, take care of it.  But nothing was happening.  No air was escaping, from either end and the pressure was increasing.  I don't think I slept a wink and when the taxi came for us at five am, I was doubled over and hobbling like an old lady because the pain was so bad. 

Naturally, Sofia was in sixth gear that morning and was running around the airport

like crazy while I tried not to cry from the pain.  

The pressure was so intense it was all I could do to keep from rocking

back and forth like a mental patient.

So do you have any idea what flying feels like when you have gas pain?  Holy BALLS.  It was like pressure from the outside and inside at the same time and I spent almost the entire flight from Dallas to LA in near tears.  At one point, I was kneeling on the floor pressing my stomach into the seat, begging my body to let go of something, anything.  Burp, fart, poop.  Anything to relieve the pressure.  But nothing happened and my stomach felt more and more like an over-inflated balloon.  It was totally like that Big Bang episode where Sheldon ate the Brussels sprouts and thought he had appendicitis.  Except he passed gas and felt better, whereas I was in complete agony.

When we landed in LA, I seriously thought we'd have to get off there and go to the hospital, and that's saying something.  I mean, I gave birth on Pitocin with no epidural and it wasn't this bad!  Tonic water on the plane did nothing, so I bought some Pepto and Alka-Seltzer at the airport and powered through the next flight.  I figured I could go to the hospital in Hawaii, they could punch a hole in my stomach and let out the air and I could finish my vacation.  It was cool, I had a one-piece swimsuit to hide the scar.  

On the FIVE HOUR flight to Hawaii, the pain let up in the tiniest way but by no means was it gone.  I was miserable but we made it and that's all that mattered.  And I sure did slap on my one-piece and take my ass to the beach because we were on vacation dammit!

Having drinks didn't hurt either.

By the end of the night, the pressure wasn't gone but it was manageable.  I wasn't hunched over and my stomach merely felt sore.  I figured that by morning, my digestive system would have passed the sprouts through and I'd be ok but good god, gas pains are the worst!

Sure enough, the next morning I woke up feeling ten times better.  My stomach was sore and the pain was more of a dull ache that had radiated a bit lower in my abdomen.  I took it as a sign that things were moving and I was going to be ok.  Thank goodness we didn't get off the plane in LA!  It was 5am Hawaii time and I tiptoed into our giant bathroom to brush my teeth as I heard Drew get up and go to the baby, who had just woken up too.

I finished brushing my teeth and went to the bathroom just as Drew and the baby came in to join me.  Seriously, once you become a parent, you will not pee alone until they go to college.  So I had an audience when I wiped.

AND SAW. THAT I STARTED MY PERIOD.

ARE. YOU. JOKING ME RIGHT NOW.

My period.  On the second day of our Hawaiian vacation.  At the beach.  And pool.  Where you wear a swimsuit.  And I was bleeding.  Are you serious right now?!

It's bad enough that I got ridiculous food poisoning or whatever it was but my period too?!?  The hell?!?!

June 10th.  The day before my baby turned 14 months old.  That's nearly two years with a low-maintenance vagina, people.  And the day we get started on our vacation is when I start my mother-effing period.  Really.

I was like NOOOOOOOOOO!! 

Y'all, I had nothing.  No tampons, no pads, nothing.  I'd read somewhere that once you start going more than ten hours without nursing, your cycle will start up and Sofia *had* been nursing less but I sure wasn't expecting this!  It was only spotting at that time, but I was prepared for a flood and told Drew that he had to go down to the gift shop and get me tampons and pantiliners because I just knew that I was going to bleed like a stuck pig.

Amazingly, the period gods smiled on me and I only spotted very lightly for like four days.  I kept waiting for the flood to start, but it never did which I was beyond thankful for.  It was bad enough that I was paranoid that my tampon string would work its way out of my swimsuit, but I had nightmares of trailing blood in the pool and not realizing it.

It was ridiculous.  Starting my damn period after Two Damn Years the DAY we start our vacation.  I'm still shaking my damn head.

And of course, Drew was all Cool, now we can get started on #2!  I told him to remember that we were on the 23rd floor and I was not above tossing him over the balcony.

...........

So ANYWAY, he got me some tampons and we got on with our vacation.  And since I don't want to leave you with visions of me on my period, let's look at some more vacation photos!

Look at my little island baby!

The flower goes over your right ear if you're single, left if you're married.

Gah, she's getting so big.

On the hotel grounds.  The whole place was gorgeous everywhere you looked!

Bribing her with a pouch.

She's got the cutest curls now and by the end of our trip, her 

hair was so light!  And of course she charmed every single person who crossed her path!

More pool time but sadly, without the hat or sunglasses.  

She loooved the pool, but wasn't at all crazy about the ocean and the sand.

She didn't like not having something solid under her feet and the

waves were too much for her.  The pool was nice and calm and it was just her speed.

Drew would say 'oooonnne' and she'd say 'tew' in her adorable baby voice

and on three Drew would lift her high out of the water.

Hands down, that was her favorite thing about Hawaii.

Now at least my stomach drama was over.  I was taking my Prilosec from my gastritis diagnosis, I had an Alka-Seltzer after any meal that didn't sit perfectly in my stomach and I had the Pepto on standby.  And once I got my nether regions situated, we were good to go so the next day Drew and I got a babysitter for Sofia and we had a husband-wife day and it was so much fun!

That's the next story, but before I tell that one I have to tell you about the time Drew tried to kill me and our unborn child.

Tomorrow.

Ooooohhh, I did it again!