We've MOVED! But then we moved back.

Dear Blog Readers, Well, clearly, I'm just not here much at all anymore. So, I thought a change of scenery might get me in gear. So, I started up a new blog over on Tumblr. I don't like it. It's too new-fangled and all buggered up with other people's shit coming up on my blog. I don't get it. It's like it's flashing 12 over there and I can't figure it out so can you tape Matlock for me tonight? Anyway. Things are plugging along. My daughters continue to amaze and horrify me in alternating succession like too many strobe lights in a club. There are some things that have been chapping my hide since becoming a parent, and I'd really like to start exploring these themes a little more "on the reg" as the kids are saying these days. So...yeah. That's gonna happen. Hopefully. Soon.

Right then, Happy Summer! Oh, and a new Baby!

Oh, my dear Blog Readers... I'm like a divorced dad promising to be at your little league game only to not show up while you look desperately for me in the stands cuz you're pitching that day. Sigh. Or not. It could be that you couldn't care less if I burden you with my surliness and angst. And that would be totally ok. Look, the sad fact is, I'm tired. I have two kids now. One 2 years and still in diapers, and another 3 month old who still randomly decides when 2:30 AM is an appropriate time to eat. Oh yeah, that's right I had another baby. So, I have little energy to write long-form entries anymore, and take the lazy-blogger way out and emote on the Facebook. The good news is, her birth was MUCH easier than the last. Sort of. This one came out 9lbs, 9 goddamned ounces with car keys and a job. It took me almost 3 hours to push her out. But, no infections, no hemmoraging, and the same doctor delivered her without being a total asshole this time. Oh, AND? I managed to end up 10lbs LIGHTER than I was before I got pregnant. And after some thyroid testing, it was revealed I was fine and was simply blessed with a 10 lb mulligan. Huzzah! I will be posting an entry about some very sad and traumatic news as soon as I can wrap my brain around it better...not to worry, kids and husband and I are all ok. But, stay tuned, or not...it's your choice. Thanks for reading. LC

Happy 2011!!!

Hello? Is there anybody out there??

Well, Blog Readers, here we are, another New Year, another chance to have the Best. Year. Ever.
I'd say that I'm starting this decade pretty much exactly how I want to be. I've got a kick ass husband, a home, and a beautiful daughter. It's been a long hard road getting here, but I'm here. And I'm happy.

Rest assured, however, that my happiness will in no way interfere with my short fuse and desire to share my anger with you, dear Blog readers.

So, Happy 2011 to you.

Excelsior!

So Then There Was This Time I Pushed a Baby Out of Me.

Hey! Hello? Anybody still out there?
I'm a mom!
And here's the story...reposted from Facebook.
Enjoy!

So, around 4:30 Monday morning I woke up with what felt like some pretty intense cramps that were coming pretty regularly. I thought, "well, I might as well time them." So, I grabbed my trusty iphone (because there's a damn app for that) and got to timing. I told myself that I'd call the doctor if they were still coming in under 10 minutes apart by 7 AM. And woo-hoo! They were. So, I called. Luckily, I live 5 minutes from the doctor's office, so I decided to go in and get checked there rather than drive all the way to the hospital only to be sent home in the event of false labor. I got an appointment at 11:45. No sweat. B-ri and I set to getting our bag packed and he set up the pack and play bassinet just in case...

At the doctor's office we learned that my water had indeed broken, and so it was off to the hospital!

We checked in around 2:30 and made ourselves comfortable for what was about to become a really long 2 days.

The doctor on call came in and told us that I was in "latent labor" and that she didn't expect "active labor" to come on until some time in the wee-hours of the morning. Because my water had broken and they wanted to avoid infection, they also hooked me up to a slow Pitcocin drip to help things along. OK, groovy, I thought, I'll just hang out and when the contractions get too bad, it'll be off to epidural land. I think I lasted about 4 hours. Epidural land is a magical place where dreams are indeed danced. And then we went to sleep.

Around 4:30 AM (my witching hour apparently) they came in to tell me that they were concerned that the pitocin was bothering the baby because her heart rate kept dipping after contractions. So, since I was dilating nicely, they turned off the pitocin.
Around 7:30 I had a 101.9 fever. They started the pitocin again after discovering I had stalled out at 6 1/2 centimeters and now I had an infection. They needed to get the baby moving.
Then my epidural wore off, so the anesthesiologist came in to dose me again. Bliss.
Up until this point, really, I was fine. I was just anxious to get to the pushing. My husband was there, my mom was there, and the team of doctors and nurses was awesome. I wasn't worried.
So, at noon, I made it to 10 centimeters and they told me I was gonna start pushing at 12:30. To give me time to rest (I needed ANOTHER dose of epidural which took forever so, I had about a half hour of reality that I NEVER want to experience again).

12:30...Pushing time. They gave me a crash course in the technique and then my body took over. And from what I could tell, I was doing great. But then they started packing ice packs around me. To get my fever down. Which apparently had spiked to 103. The baby's heart rate was all over the place. Sometimes upwards of 200 bpm and sometimes as low as 106. The doctor was becoming concerned, so she recommended that we use forceps to help her come down into the birth canal. And if that didn't work, then we were going to have to resort to C-section. That's when I started freaking out about brain damage and lack of oxygen and ultimately convinced myself that there was something totally wrong with her. Oh, did I forget to mention the presence of meconium in my amniotic fluid? That’s baby poop. If she were to breathe that in, she’d be in some trouble. Yeah, that too.

So, out came the forceps, I kept pushing and at 2:35 PM Lyla Margaret Brehart was born. All 8 lbs and 6 oz of her. With a FULL head of hair. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to hold her right away. Because of the meconium, they had to make sure she didn't cry right away so that she didn't aspirate any of it. So, they worked on her for about a half and hour...suctioning out her airways, massaging her to get her lungs working. And then there was me.

THOSE WITH ISSUES WITH BLOOD, GORE, AND GENERAL DISCOMFORT AROUND MYSTERIOUS LADY PARTS SHOULD SKIP THIS NEXT PART

I was busy delivering the placenta. Which should have been routine, right? Nope.
I had a 3rd degree tear in my perineum. Also not uncommon. However, even after the repair, I was still bleeding. It was discovered that there were still pieces of the placenta in my uterus. So, they had to do what was basically a manual D&C to get it all out. My epidural at this point had worn off again. So, yeah. I felt all of it. The doctor kept repeating “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry” as her had was where no hand had no business being. Ever. When everything was said and done I had lost about 800 cc's of blood. That’s just about 2 pints. Awesome. Then they shot me up with some dilaudid for the pain, which, turned me into a shuffling, drooling “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest” mess. And I STILL hadn't held the baby yet.

Then they were done and FINALLY I got to hold her. I was so out of it though I didn't really feel safe holding her. They gave me the side-eye when I refused to hold her in the wheel chair on the way up to my room. I told them, well actually slurred to them “Look, I’m not one of those moms refusing to hold her because I’m trying to avoid her. I honestly just can’t because my body isn’t working right now. Good lord.” So my mom and my husband took over.

Brian was amazing, by the way. He was calm and encouraging throughout the entire experience and I couldn't have asked for a better partner in all of this. He is unbelievable. And my mom got to see her granddaughter born. She had never seen a baby born before and she was beside herself with joy.

So there you have it. It was a harrowing experience, but ultimately a happy one as my daughter is healthy. And gorgeous. And huge. And I can't wait to get to know this new little person we brought into the world.

Some highlights that weren’t actually highlights:

-My regular doctor didn’t actually deliver me. Apparently he wasn’t on call. Even though I delivered on a Tuesday and I was supposed to see him that day and I’ve had appointments with him moved and canceled due to him in surgery or delivery. I guess my crisis wasn’t “crisis-y” enough.
-The doctor who DID deliver me was a total bitch. She told me twice that I needed a better attitude when all I did was ask for more pain meds—which I was told by the nurses was completely acceptable and to NOT wait until it was unbearable.
-The same doctor responded rather nonchalantly with “I hope so” when I asked her if the baby was going to be ok.
-My second anesthesiologist was an asshole. As I’m WRITHING in pain for a half hour, he walks in like it’s no big things and goes “So, what’s going on?” Like I was hassling him or something. When I asked for his recommendation after he spewed a whole bunch of unclear jargon, his response was “I don’t know your pain. I can’t answer that.”
-It took them an hour and 45 minutes to finish all the repairs on my lady parts.
-I am now sitting on a rubber donut.

4 Months Pass And Beer Commercials Featuring "beards".

Oh, Blog Readers, how I have neglected you! For this, I apologize. I have been busy...gestating. 59 more days until the end of my world as I know it.

Ok, anywho. Since becoming a freelancer, I get a lot of opportunities for "research". And by research, I mean countless hours in front of the television. Countless hours of my slow transformation into an 80 year old man muttering to myself about "kids these days" and their "complicated shoes" and their "half grown beards". Though I was gonna say "sugar drinks" didn't ya?
Well, no. Because I'm here to talk about a different kind of drink today. More specifically, beer. And still more specifically, the commercials that advertise beer.

I'm noticing a trend. Perhaps it's not new. Perhaps it's simply the baby-baking juices coursing through my system that cause me to shake with the rage of a thousand angry Huns.

Bud Light and Coors Light? I'm looking at you.

Bud Light is currently running a campaign where a sloppily groomed group of guys find themselves in situations one wouldn't normally party in, but when Bud Light shows up, BAM, party time! And apparently Bud Light drinkers are complete douchebags. There's one ad in the series...the one featuring the Jeremy Piven Character circa "PCU"—complete with 2 day "he's not sure if he can MAKE that kind of commitment right now but can't be bothered to shave either" beard, striding around a hospital, making smart ass, yet confident faces, barking out orders in an attempt to spread the word about a party in his sick friend's room. HILARIOUS! He oozes self-assurance as he moves through the ward handing out bottles of Bud Light, brah. and then at the end he looks at the female nurses in the room and quips
"Ladies...nurse outfits...I LIKE it."
BWAHAHAHAHAAAAA! Mysogyny is AWEsome. I better act dumb or that really cute guy won't think I'm hot. Gross.

Then there's Coors Light. This one shows us a couple of guys hanging out at an apartment. But what's this? There's a contraption in the fridge that allows you TAPPED BEER AT HOME for up to 30 DAYS! Suddenly, a bartender shows up. Then a cocktail waitress kindly changes out the snack bowls on the coffee table.
"Dude" says one.
"I know" says the other.
"But what does your girlfriend have to say about this?"
Ok, can I stop for a second? First off, why would she care? Personally, if my living room suddenly sprouted a full bar staff, I'd be fucking thrilled. But, apparently, in the world of beer commercials aimed at the 21-34 demographic, girlfriends just don't "get it" and are "a pain in the ass".

So, we cut to an external shot of the building where a bouncer is checking a clip board and telling the girlfriend that she's "not on the list". Really? Ok. Hey, boyfriend on the couch? Remember how I let you put your dick in my mouth? Yeah, that was nice wasn't it? Too bad I'm not on the fucking list. Later, Brah.

THAT's how that would end. In real life.

But in Beer Ad Land, another douchebag friend comes to the door, blows past the bouncer and the girlfriend is left sulking on the sidewalk.

So, what's my problem you ask? Since when have beer ads EVER been nice to women?
Look, I'm not naive. I worked on Miller Lite for the better part of a year. The "Get Lucky With Great Taste" signage you saw all over bars this St. Pat's? That was mine. I wrote that. I get what sells beer.

But I also know that guys who look like they smell bad and treat their girlfriends badly start to make me think that I'm glad my husband doesn't drink Bud Light OR Coors Light. And if he did, I'd start thinking to myself, "Seriously? He's one 2 day beard and a dirty t-shirt away from the curb."

"But, LC, these Ads aren't TALKING to you." Say the Creative Teams. "They're talking to young college aged guys (of legal drinking age, of course) who are just developing their confidence in their chosen groups. We're trying to speak to that inner partier inside them. The one that's carefree, smart, quick-witted and attractive to women even though he's not a striped shirt wearing, upwardly mobile member of society. He's 'every-guy'". Sigh. And it's that last label that makes me sad for the creative teams behind these pieces of garbage.

Because in reality, what "every-guy" WOULDN'T want a chick who drinks Coors Light right along with him? Who watches sports, plays cards, and embraces his inherent "guy-ness"? There are women like that out there. I know. I'm one of them. But, Beer advertisers would have us believe that women are a nuisance. They are to be tolerated and somewhat feared and therefore to be deceived...in manner of a 5 year old lying to his mommy about breaking something he shouldn't have been messing with in the fancy part of the house.

Ah well. I suppose they AREN'T talking to me. Or my husband. But they ARE talking to an impressionable group of mouth-breathers who will take these ads at face value and say "Dude. That's AWESOME."

And here's what's gonna happen. When my daughter grows up, one of the little nuggets of advice I'm going to give...
"Beware the man who eschews shaving for more than 2 days in your presence, sleeps on a single bed minus a mattress pad, and doesn't bother with dressing in anything more than a clearly dirty pair of jeans and a t-shirt. I don't care how "funny" he is. Run. Run screaming in the other direction. You will thank me later."

I can't wait to be a mom.

Goddamnit, Teri Hemmert

Well, I literally got through 3 songs on XRT's Breakfast with the Beatles this morning before loudly telling Teri Hemmert to fuck off and changing the station.

Seriously. Here I am, driving back from O'Hare after dropping B-ri off at Air Canada, and up pops Breakfast with the Beatles. And I'm all like, "AWESOME! Nothing but Beatles...the womb-dweller will LOVE this".
Oh, how quickly I do forget.
We started off strong with Rubber Soul's "I'm Looking Through You". I'm smiling and singing and hoping the womb creature wakes up and starts moving around. I'm all pumped about what's gonna be up next...
It's some 9 minute Paul McCartney shit the bed solo suck fest.
I suffer through it thinking the next one will SURELY be a reliable Beatles classic. NOPE. Some weird ass I'm not even kidding elevator version of With a Little Help From My Friends.
I'm sorry, I thought I was listening to Breakfast with the Beatles. Not Breakfast with Paul McCartney's craptastic solo career and random inconsequential cover bands.

Fuck you, Teri Hemmert.
And fuck you, Breakfast with the Beatles.

2010- The Year I Become Somebody's Mother

Good morning 2010, I greet you clear headed and sober. How very novel.
And it is quite a beautiful morning indeed.

We had a low-key shin-dig here at the house, I haven't cleaned anything yet, and I'm eating leftover hummus.

And yes, in 6 months, I will be a mom. Holy shit.
What's hilarious is that most of the resolutions I would have made this year have already been done.

Quit smoking. Check.
Quit drinking. Check.
Eat better...welll...
Lose weight...HA.

So, I start 2010 not hungover, with a wonderful husband, a cat, a house, and a baby on the way.

Wow.