Thursday started out like any other day.  Woke up, weighed myself, decided I’m never eating again.

Two hours later, when my hunger overtook me and I was browsing the meat aisle, I noticed the back of my leg was numb.  Which is an interesting new development in the ongoing saga that is my back.  As the day went on, more and more of me became numb, including my right butt cheek and right side of my netherlands.  Like, it felt like I had an epidural just on the right side.  And frankly, it made me crave hospital food.

Panic set in as I wondered if I would ever regain feeling in my hoo ha.  This could be bad.  I immediately consulted the experts – my Scary Mommy blogger friends.  Who understand the importance of my vagina and told me to get my numb ass to the doctor, stat.  My doctor wanted to see me right away, and with my Mother-In-Law at the dentist having her tooth pulled, my options were:  1.  Bring three little kids with me to the doctor, or 2.  Turn on Despicable Me, toss a ham in the middle of the playroom and hurry back.

Sitting in her office I described my symptoms.

“This is very serious,” she said.

“Who you tellin’?  I got a lotta mileage left in this thing!”

“I’m going to have to give you an… exam,”  she said, giving a sideways glance to my 3, 4 and 5-year-olds, who were now in the middle of a heated debate over the iPad and spilling jelly beans onto her floor.

“Do you want me to have an MA watch your girls while I do the exam?”

“Five second rule, Lila!  That red one is fine.  Umm, no, doctor.  At this point they’ve seen it all.”

“Are you sure?  It will be a rectal exam.”

rectal exam*camera pans to ceiling, scene resumes as I’m putting my pants back on*

“These symptoms are pretty serious.  I need to send you down to the ER.”

This was the opposite of, “You’ve just had a really stressful 45 minutes.  Why don’t you go straight home and have a big glass of wine while you block out the memory of someone shoving their finger up your butt?” that I was praying so hard to hear.

This was bad.  Taking three kids to the ER was bad.  But not having any feeling in my vagina was worse.  “Girls!  We are going on an adventure!”

Luckily by this time my husband had arrived – he burst into the room right when the hot anal action had just started.  He has a knack for sniffing out girl on girl action.  I interpreted the look of disgust on his face when he walked in the door as arousal.

“I am not a doctor, I am with ER registration,” the guy with ER registration said as he slid the curtain closed.  “Can I have your insurance card, ID and method of payment?”  I handed him my cards.  “Three girls, huh?”  He said, nodding toward my children, who were now full throttle.  The little one literally had her mouth wrapped around the bed guard rails and my middle one was typing something into the computer.  “You know my wife is a photographer, and she specializes in children’s portraits.”

“Oh, that’s nice,”  I said, feeling some lubricant begin to eek its way out of my butthole.

As much as I wanted Nick to take the girls to the cafeteria and scram, he happens to be a physician and I wanted him to be there when the doctor told me they were probably going to have to amputate my vagina.  I’d heard some horror stories from him and his friends and I needed back-up.

After a few minutes the ER doctor came in and told me they were going to schedule an MRI for the morning.

“Usually I do a rectal exam for these types of symptoms, but I’ll spare you.”

“Oh, thank God.  I already had one of those today and I have a limit of one person’s finger up my butt a day.”

“Oh?  What did she say?”

“Well she said it seemed a little weak… I mean fine!  She said it was fine!”  I stammered as she snapped on her rubber glove and squirted the lube on her finger.

*camera pans to ceiling, scene resumes with me alone in room, in fetal position on hospital bed*

“Okay, so one more thing before we can let you go,”  the ER doctor said as she came back into the room and closed the curtain.  “The neuro surgeon wants me to do something called the ‘pin prick’ test.  We have to test the nerve sensation in your anus.”

Thinking she was joking, I burst out laughing.  She was not joking.  The laughter turned maniacal as I once again rolled over and relented.  They had taken everything.  What was one more thing in my butt.

*camera pans to ceiling, scene resumes with me contemplating meaning of life*

“Wow, you’re in a hurry,”  The guy with ER registration said as he came in to find me fully dressed, coat on, waiting at the door.  Here are your cards back, and I jotted down my wife’s number in case you’re interested in those pictures.”

I swiped it out of his hands, took my violated butt and my numb vagina home and ate that side of beef waiting for me.



#Throwback Thursday


The morning I found out I was pregnant with my third child my spine filed a grievance with the union. We tried to come to some sort of agreement, but my stomach was unable to accommodate its demands.  I was a monstrosity.  I needed the jaws of life to get out of my car.  And once I was out chaos ensued.  Mothers covered their childrens’ eyes; penises spontaneously detached and jumped into traffic.  I was like Quasi Moto’s less nimble pregnant sister.  I was huge and I lumbered around like a monster and I had a 1 and 2-year-old who unapologetically needed me to constantly lift and carry them and my back was simply in shreds.  But once this came out of me it only took a few weeks until I was able to walk with slightly less intense pain radiating down my legs and around my back. For three years, I have tiptoed around my back issues.  I give it anything it wants; terrified I will anger it.  It is moody and annoying and didn’t listen when I told it I thought we should see other people so I just have found a way to make the most of this abusive relationship. I remember my 20s fondly, when I could sit on the toilet for more than two minute intervals before both feet fell […]

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The Seven Stages of Dinner


The majority of my day centers around feeding something.  If I am not actively preparing food I am thinking about what I’m going to make, shopping for what I’m going to make, or cleaning up what I just made.  And yet despite three meals and one healthy (relatively) snack every single day, my children are non-stop ravenous, insatiable beasts. Until dinner, that is.  That’s when their need for food comes to a screeching halt.  The look on their faces when they come bursting into the dining room goes from euphoric to Santa’s dead when they see that I had the audacity to serve them chicken Parmesan. “Aaaawww!  What is THIS?  I wanted McDonald’s!”  They chime. I fed them McDonald’s for dinner once.  ONCE, like two years ago when I had the flu.  Yet every night they have held onto some sort of delusional fantasy that those plain “cheeseburgers” will magically appear once again on their dinner plate. So, like a fresh bout of grief, I work my way through the seven stages of dinner daily. 1. Pinterest.  Everything starts here, with a false sense of security.  Dinner?  Pssshaw… I thought you said this was going to be hard.  Look at all this dinner I got floating around here.  Hey! Have a candied bacon cookie and put on this easy to make chevron scarf.  Why not […]

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We Got Crabs.


From the moment my kids could speak they have begged me for a dog.  Which is unfortunate for them because:  A.  My husband is deathly allergic to fur, and B.  I am at maximum capacity for cleaning poop. A shell bearing sea creature was not exactly on my list of ‘things I need in my life right now’, but I do appreciate the value of learned responsibility via keeping things alive, and a change of heart is just a flush away so welcome to our home, creepy hermit crabs.  Because really, what says ‘loyal companion’ more than a black-eyed, soul-less crustacean? I’m semi-familiar with hermit crabs because we had them as kids.  My uncle lives in Florida and one Christmas he found three on the beach, boxed them up and mailed them to Missouri.  Several questions still go unanswered about the hows and whys and legalities of that decision. My first clue that hermit crabs mightn’t be the most desirable of animal companions was the outpouring of volunteers willing to drop them like a hot potato.  Within minutes of suggesting we might be in the market on Facebook, several friends were practically throwing them at me. “We have some!  And a cage, and food, and I’ll give you all the cash in my wallet if you’ll just take these things off our hands!”  Ignoring the […]

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Dear Man Who Brought His One-Year-Old To The Movie Interstellar,


It’s funny – I’ve never actually wished anyone dead before.  Sure, there have been a handful of people I’ve met who I wouldn’t necessarily jump on the subway tracks to save, but the amount of energy I spent trying to mentally will laser beams to shoot from my eyes into your face until you literally burst into flames was staggering. Like the majority of the other moviegoers in the packed theater, my husband and I slowly lowered ourselves into our seats, our ham flowers still tender from being taken advantage of at the box office.  Movies aren’t cheap.  Neither are babysitters, which probably means nothing to you because that is a concept as foreign as “consideration”, or “other people”. Settling in, I thought my mind was playing tricks on me as I heard the familiar noise of a fussy child reverberate from the walls throughout the previews.  I buried my face in my popcorn and prayed it was just how the brain rids itself of the residual noise I’d been hearing all day.  When the movie started, however, I turned around and realized it was very, very real. Interstellar is every bit of a three hour movie.  And we’re not talking Dances With Wolves three hours, with 90% of it being B roll of amber waves of grain and Kevin Costner talking real slow.  This […]

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To Hadley On Her Third Birthday


Dear Hadley, From the moment you were born your chief request has been for me to hold you.  I realize this is probably because you were afraid I would accidentally forget you somewhere.  It was a legitimate fear.  Instinctively from birth, you’ve known that you were gonna need to either hang on tight or make a lot of noise. Which you did, coherently, at a very early age. Wherever we went when you were a baby, people would stop me with a freaked out look on their face, point at you and whisper, “Did you know she can talk?” From seven months on no one has ever had to question what was on your mind.  Oh, you want that bottle with an extra shot of formula?  Comin’ right up.  Even now when I wash dishes while you finish up your lunch, you’ll call over to me, “Mom… let’s talk about it.”  So I’ll immediately stop, dry my hands, sit down and you’ll launch into a half hour explanation of whatever is on your mind.  Usually dinosaurs or bath toys. But really, what you’ve been most vocal about is to be carried. So for the past three years, almost 24/7, I have lugged you here there and everywhere, yelling over my shoulder to your sisters to hold onto anything they can grab that is attached to […]

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Tidings of Comfort and Joy


Last week Nick’s Great Uncle died.  He was the Grandfather figure in Nick’s life, but he was 97, a widower, and had recently moved into a nursing home so there was an overarching sense of comfort and joy in his peaceful passing. The visitation was last Friday night.  Because babysitters on a weekend in December book out about two years in advance, we decided to take the girls with us. Our kids have occasionally asked questions about death which I’ve always tried to navigate as carefully as possible.  There’s a fine line between explaining to a child that death is a certainty in life and having three kids who think every meal will be their last.  I knew I needed to do a little research on the best way to broach the subject because this time I would be incorporating visual aids. By the way, this was all contrary to Nick’s plan – to simply “show up to the funeral home – they won’t understand what is going on.”  Be on the lookout for his parenting book, Imminent Therapy, coming soon to book stores everywhere. Having been their primary caregiver for the past five years I assured him this was a bad idea.  These kids are very observant.  I can tell you with confidence that they will immediately sniff out anything unusual in a room, […]

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