Mittelschmerz and what not.

Today I am just bleh.  Something’s happening with my body.  I’m pretty sensitive to my innerds.  And what with a biology background.. I can kind of nerd out with body functions sometimes.

If you are one of those, “Ewww.. too much information” folks, read no further.

If you are a man.. yeah, pretty much this will not interest you either, go back to your man bidness.

Those women that are not squeamish, shall we carry on?  Wait a minute….there is still one man reading.  You.. yes, you.  Stop.  This is not for you.  Buh bye.  Thanks.

Mittelschmerz

This word cracks me up.  It’s like something Dr.Horrible would make up.  Or.. it is some kind of Jewish social offense that causes Jewish folks to wave their hands at you and say, “Meh!” It is actually a German word, made up prolly by some insensitive German gynecologist back the in the 1700′s.  Mittelschmerz translated means “middle pain.”  It is the term for pain and cramps in between periods.  Ovulation.  See what I mean by insensitive? Like he thought that was a clever thing to call it?

Circa 1735….. and scene!

Gertrude walks into Dr.Volksenburgs office, she is doubled over in pain.

She explains to the doctor that she has lower abdominal pain, with some bleeding, and would believe she was having a miscarriage, but that is not possible as she has not had sexual relations since her last menstrual cycle.  Is she dying?  Is there a tumor?  Fibroids? Doctor!  What could be wrong?!

He feels her forehead and asks if she has a headache.

Gertrude:  No.

He examines her feet and asks if there is any pain there.

Gertrude, perturbed:  No.

Dr:  Aha!  You have Mittelschmerz!

Gertrude:  Mittelschmerz!  Is it serious?  What is it?

Dr:  Mittelschmerz!  Your middle hurts woman!

Gerturde:  Thank you doctor, you are a brilliant asshole, you need to go see your proctologist because your head is stuck somewhere!

Girls.. I think I am laying a freakin’ goose egg today!  My right ovary is all jacked up.  Has this ever happened to you?  You would think, with dropping an egg and all, that I would be feeling… differently… like procreating and such.  NO.  I feel like someone kicked me in the stomach.  If ‘he’ even approaches the idea.. ‘he’ is going to get kicked in the stomach.

I guess it comes with aging. *Sigh*  First time it happened to me I was all freaked out thinking I was dying or something, my doctor says.. “So.. you are what, about 35?”  Me:  “Just turned 35, yes.”  Ahh… you have Mittelschmerz.

Good times ladies, good times….

Bliss Fail

It’s after 9:00 pm.  Kids are in bed.  I have just crawled into a piping hot bathtub with bubbles a foot and a half high.  Twilight book number 2, New Moon, is within reach to the right, and to my left, a bottle of talking rain, yes, even with a straw. Bliss, no?

No.

Nature calls child #1 to take a #2 in the one bathroom in our house.  She is so apologetic as she turns on the fan.  I scowl, and sink below the bubble line. She’s sweet and while she is doing her business, she draws Mommy in the tub:

Its cute huh?  Except for my HUGE knees, and cankles.  Yikes.  Look at all the bubbles in my hair!  She loves to draw, little sweetie.  And she was in there a long time.  Of course with it being a small house, when Nature calls, other folks are usually with in ear shot, so after she finished, child #2 came in to do, yes, #2.

Can you BELIEVE it?!  My gosh!  He was in there a while too.  He read the paper.  Just kidding.  I love my children, truly do.  But no luck on  catching a moment of bubbly bliss tonight. *Sigh*

My protective shield of bubbles......

Spending a lovely afternoon at Wit’s End.

You know that place called “Wit’s End?”  Ever been there?  Some priviledged folks have a fast track pass to “Wit’s End.”  Raise your hand if you do…wow…..that’s a lot of raised hands.  Well I have a fast track pass too.

People tell me all the time that I’m ‘great with kids, would be a great teacher, blah, blah’…you know.  Really?  No, really?  My own children make me want to ….force my head through drywall.  Sure they fight sometimes, and whine, and are messy.  The times I find myself checking into ‘Wit’s End’ are generally when they are deleriously amusing themselves. In. Public.  See below:

People had to step around them.  Some people laughed.  Some scanned the room for their parents.  Some hunkered down to play on her iphone and pretend that they were not actually her children at all.  Their father saw it as a photo op.  Plus, they look like him and not me anyway, so let people glare at him if they must, after all, he WAS taking pictures.

Gosh that was a delicious double tall hazelnut la-la-la-la-la-latte.  See you at ‘Wit’s End!’