Nothing Is Sacred

Becky's Take on Life, Love, Motherhood and Other Random Stuff

What The…..? March 16, 2009

Filed under: Uncategorized — Becky @ 4:19 pm
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I am happily channel surfing, looking for the least offensive thing television has to offer. Sappy movie on the Hallmark channel, no. Freaky movie on the SciFi channel, nyet. Sub-titled Japanese movie on some channel I didn’t even know I got, nope. And then, with no warning whatsoever, my eyes are assaulted by a view of someone’s innards. I fumble at the remote buttons trying to change the channel before my retinas are burned any further.

Was this in the cable contract? Who, aside from people in the medical field, wants to watch this stuff? I would think even the doctors, nurses and EMT’s would like a break from the gore.

Should Jane Q. Public have to have her Lean Cuisine ruined by accidentally stumbling upon Mary Sue’s gastric bypass operation in full, living color? I will admit to occasionally getting sucked in by the human interest aspect of some of the stories, but I hate the icky parts.

It’s not just health programming that does this, either. The CSI, NCIS, SVU and other alphabet show folks seem to think I need to have realism is my life. No. I do not need to see the details of the victim’s autopsy, with their chest laid wide open while they repose on a metal table. Just tell us the cause of death and get on with solving the crime. Leave how you found the cause of death to our tiny imaginations.

We should also talk about childbirth. If I had wanted to see a woman put her va-jay-jay to the wind and give birth, I would have actually watched the childbirth video in my birthing class instead of just pretending. Likewise, if I had wanted to watch a c-section in progress I would have said “yes” when they offered to point the mirror in that direction during my own c-section. I could see a reflection in the overhead light in the OR. When I looked up and saw the scalpel drawing blood across my belly I clamped my eyes shut and didn’t open them until they brought my precious baby girl over to me.

I say skip the gore and stick to the good bits. Let’s see Mary Sue 100 lbs. lighter, the victim’s killers brought to justice, and cute little babies, tightly swaddled in blankets, snuggling in their mom’s arms.

 

9 Years March 13, 2009

Filed under: Uncategorized — Becky @ 10:44 pm
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9 years ago at this time I was going into labor– 2 weeks early. As I like to remind my son, it was a long labor, in which he resisted making his entrance into the world, so it culminated in having him surgically removed from my belly.

He was coming out whether he wanted to or not.

And never in my life have I been so glad to see a woman coming at my spine with a huge needle.

At about 1:30 that next afternoon the nurse stuck her head back through the OR door to inform us all that “Bubba weighed 11 lbs 3 oz.”

He’s been affectionately called Bubba ever since. And he’s remained as stubborn as he was that first day when he decided he liked the comforts of the womb, and he didn’t want to leave after all.

Since my children are close in age, I’m not sure I had the perspective on parenting that I thought I did after having had my first one around for only 21 months, but the last 9 years have taught me much.

9 years have shown me that I can do (and have done) things that would take down some very rock solid men. Witness me *not* turning my head away when they started stitching my one year old’s forehead shut, although I was tempted. The little dude who was crying and strapped to a papoose board needed me more than I needed to not have that image in my mind forever.

9 years have taught me that I can function on 3 hours of sleep, and I may nod off at inopportune moments, but usually not while driving.

9 years have allowed my ears and brain to know the difference between blood-curdling, “mommy, I’m hurt” screams, and blood-curdling, “I hate my sibling and am going to kill him/her” screams. One requires my immediate attention, while the other requires me to pray that some time in the future they will like each other.

9 years let me know that some of the most basic character traits must be genetic, but I still have no idea where that hard-headed gene comes from. *looks around the room innocently*

The last 9 year have been a learning experience, and yes, there are days when I know why some mothers eat their young, but there are other days that make it a completely worthwhile experience.

I’m sure the next 9 years will be equally filled with learning opportunities, and by the time I deal with all of the teen angst and social ills, I will be longing for the days of diaper rash, baby-proofing, and midnight feedings.

Happy Birthday ZJG! You’ll always be my Baby Bubba 🙂