Midwife visit was frustrating and annoying yesterday- not because of any bad news, just because of a kooky-nut incompetent nurse and a very rushed midwife, who was pinch hitting for all the other midwives who were out for the holidays.
How kooky-nut was the nurse? For evidence, take your pick:
* Throws open the bathroom door and says "Wait! Don't go yet!" as I'm sitting on the can, because she forgot to give me the little cup to pee in.
* Tells me she didn't want two boys, so she was happy when they ended up with two girls, even though her ex-husband, he wanted a boy both times. Then, he left her anyway, when the girls were six and nine, to go raise somebody else's kids. Can you believe it? And that woman, she has been with everybody, I mean everybody. Oh, he is a jerk. (Me: Well, I don't really care, boy or girl. . . I mean, what the hell was I supposed to say? Who was this nut?)
* Can't figure out how to use the baby-listening device. Gets ultrasound goo all over me. Makes me seriously wonder if she has ever done this before.
In the end, all is fine.
Had an ultrasound this morning to get my fluids checked. The dipstick says I don't even need them topped off. Next appointment, I'll actually pull into the garage, straddle a pit in the ground, and have a bunch of Voc-Tech grads poke at my undercarriage.
The ultrasound lady said she could see hair on the back of baby's head. cG first thought she said she saw hair on the baby's back, which I guess would mean she takes after my family.
Speaking of my undercarriage, we are starting to institute a baby-loosening curriculum. As a first step, we walked a couple of miles on Blackstone Blvd. this a.m. cG has decided to play chicken with the baby, strategically removing the front right wheel of the car to "check the rotors." She didn't flinch, so he's next going to up the ante by taking off both front wheels and replacing the brake pads, which he has never done before. This is not some kind of medical metaphor, he is actually disassembling the car. We're hoping she will decide to show up as soon as he can't figure out how to get the brakes back together, just to be contrarian.
We've started calling the baby "Peaches," because boy howdy, did she like peaches when they were in season this year. Seriously, she made me eat like 1000 of them. They were SO GOOD. So we're thinking about dangling a peach between my knees. Think that will lure her out? It sure couldn't make my walking any less graceful than it already is.
I think those of you with a passing knowledge of the Nina Simone repertoire will recognize why "Peaches" is not only cute, but damned inappropriate as our daughter's nickname. We're all about the impropriety around here.
*not this Peaches. 
No comments:
Post a Comment