What?

This not the bikini view you hoped for?

Me neither.

But unfortunately, this is what I have now.

I was so relieved when I avoided surgery while giving birth two months ago.

Apparently, my sighs were a tad premature.

Friday night I was rushed from the E.R. to the operating room to have my appendix removed.

Awesome right?

Now I look like I was sprayed in a drive by shooting.

There is a third bandage, but I’ve decided that way too many people have been looking at my lady parts as of late.

I am still trying to look past the fact that this all happened at a teaching hospital, with many, many students.

And I did not shave that day.

And my panties had a hole.

And I was in the E.R. for so long without a pump that my boobs leaked everywhere.

I’d laugh at myself, but it freaking hurts.

Yup, I’ve resolved that I will be so far from looking hot for a very, very long time.

Good thing I have Percocet to get me through it all.

Narcotics and stool softeners.

It’s all good.

—

Moms do a lot so be sure to send flowers for Mothers Day this year.

The heels.  The lipstick.  The lacy lingerie.

It’s awesome. Never mind the fact that I can’t remember the last time I actually utilized any of the above.

Also, I’ve never been a dude.  So, perhaps I’m a little biased.

Anyhow, from my experience, possessing a bit of feminine wile certainly has its perks.

When huge, ugly spiders come into the house, Dadisodes gently escorts them back into the outside world using some household vessel (i.e. cup or tissue).

I’m too delicate to witness murder of any sort.

In sixth grade, during a sweltering, humid Florida afternoon, my P.E. teacher blew his whistle to signal everyone onto the field for a 1-mile run.  I skulked off to the side, hunched over, and whimpered something about ‘cramps’ and ‘first time’.

It’s amazing how much cooler it is sitting under a tree.

However, like anything with great power, comes great responsibility.  Which usually translates to something not so pleasant.

You know, like childbirth.

Having to prove that you can open jars on your own.

Allowing complete strangers to stare and poke at your va-jay-jay every year.

Or worse…

Mammograms.

Leave it to Murphy to give me lumpy breasts the only times in my life I actually have boobs.

While breastfeeding Babisodes four years ago, I found a lump in my right breast.  Many, many people I didn’t know felt, scanned and looked at my boobs.

Turns out, they found nothing.  Once I stopped breastfeeding, it went away.

This time around with Bittysodes, my doctor found two new lumps just last week.

She didn’t want to mess around so she felt, scanned, and ordered a mammogram to cover all the bases.

I will never look at a Panini sandwich press the same ever again.

Before going in for the procedure I had an idea of what was in store, so I tried my best to empty as much milk from my breasts as possible.

But those machines?

Holy cow udders Batman.

It’s too bad there were no metal buckets in the room.

Or booze…or stress balls.

I do not look forward to doing that again for a long, long time.

At least I hope.

I’m just incredibly thankful that it all worked out, again.

I rarely reach over and actually pull one off of the shelf, and I have never opened one to read.

However, I have to say, the horrible photographs and smut do grab my attention for a second.

Especially if there is some kind of horrific photo of a celeb caught off guard, wearing a bikini, with cottage cheese and bat wings all hanging out and flappin’ in the wind.

And if there’s a celebrity mom who recently gave birth on the cover, I silently pray the person in line before me has coupons and needs a price check so I can do a double take.

I mean I need some reassurance that I’m not the only one with a lumpy ass, some extra skin…

…or an extra 10 pounds they can’t seem to shake.

I know I don’t have personal trainers, a plastic surgeon, or even the energy to think about working out. But this time around, I cannot help but feel just plain old.

By this time after my first pregnancy, I was already back into my size 4 jeans.

This time? Not so much. Even though I gained significantly less weight.

My body feels more tired and my joints more achy than they did last time.

You know you’re getting old when everyone at the “New mom support group” is younger than you.

You know you’re getting old when your daughter points out the ‘freckles’ on your hands, but you realize they’re really just age spots.

You know you’re getting old when the only cast member from GLEE older than you is Sue Sylvester.

I totally need my own Madonna video remake.

(7 weeks postpartum)

Mothers hold their children’s hands for a short while, but their hearts forever.

~Author Unknown

I give up.

I am completely aware that when bloggers begin posting photos of their actual dirty laundry, things are no bueno.  As in, their supply of  blog fodder is utterly depleted.

However, in my case, it has become one of the many reasons for my absence here.

I have hard evidence that T-shirts and socks reproduce like rabbits.

Anyhow, it is all coming back to me now.  Things such as why I did not have a blog when Babisodes was a new baby.  Or why I had to take at least 6 weeks off from work after having Babisodes. I am a walking zombie at this point.

I mean, I could not imagine administering medications to patients.   Not without the likelihood of killing someone.

In all honesty, I have been working on a blog post for over a week now.  I began writing it the day my mom and grandmother left to go back to Florida.  The post is emotional with the occasional attempt at imagery.  I even have it saved on my Desktop as a Word.doc.  It is opened almost daily and I type anywhere from two words to a full sentence.

But then suddenly someone needs to be fed, bathed, or have their butt wiped.

I fully admit that it’s been tough giving this blog any attention while someone latches onto my boob every 2-3 hours, I sleep in 1-2 hours increments, and I need to sequester a rambunctious 4-year old during nap times.

Not to mention, I need free hands in order to type an actual post.

And I never seem to want put this adorable baby down.

I can’t help it.  I cannot get enough of her.

She’s so cute and cuddly.

Plus, the top of her head smells so sweet.  Smelling it gives me such a high.

It’s baby crack yo.

P.S.  Forgive me as I forgot to thank you ALL for your congratulatory comments and well wishes here.  It doesn’t take much for me to get sappy these days, but opening my inbox to find 150 comments brought a tear to my eye.