Guest Posts

Guest Post: Sonja Herbert

Remember the book review I did for Carnival Girl?

I know it’s been a while, but I really did love the book and I wanted to give you all your own inside scoop about the author Sonja Herbert who has so generously offered to guest post. 

Isn’t she so cute?

In my previous blog post, I mentioned how much I struggled with Sonja’s mother’s negativity in motherhood. I think Sonja gave me a greater appreciation for her mom with this write-up.

When I was a little girl, traveling in our small carnival caravan, I often listened to my mother talking
about how she used to be a model in Berlin, the greatest city of Europe, and how she had to leave and
hire on with the circus in order to stay ahead of the Nazis.

During the few times we carnival children attended school, I once received an A for a story about a
Greek myth I had written, and on that day I decided to write about my mother’s life when I grew up.

All through the time I raised my six children here in the U.S.A., this thought was with me, and when the
younger ones were a bit older, I started on my mother’s story. As the story unfolded, I realized that it
would not be complete unless I also told my own story, the story of my childhood and my life with my

Life in the caravan growing up with Mutti.

And that’s how Carnival Girl began. I originally called it Conversations with Margot (my mother’s first
name), but since the novel I wrote about her life isn’t quite finished yet, I decided to re-name the
memoir and publish it first.

As I wrote the memoir and remembered the things that happened in my early life, old feelings returned,
and I had to confront the childish assumptions of my younger self. Now, as a grown woman, I am able
to see things I had not seen as a little girl, and when my memoir was finished, I had a new insight and
understanding for my mother, who had suffered so much and still came out ahead.

My mother, Margot, is now ninety-one years old. She lives in Stuttgart, Germany, and is still going

Thank you Mutti, for everything you have taught me!

Thank you Sonja for sharing even more 
of your insight with us.


Guest Post – Jenny – School Lunches

Hi everyone, I am Jenny Lynn from simply family and designing for home. Alice and I go way back to a time when we were goofy teens. In fact I spent many summer nights trying to Tee Pee her house, only to have her mom catch me in the act. Which meant I had to clean it up. Of course I was not alone in this act, it usually involved a Young Woman’s leader driving and a sleep over. We grew up in the same ward. It has been so fun to be in touch with her again.

The last four years I have been working in an elementary school. Part of my job besides being an aide includes working in the lunchroom as a guard. Really I spend my time doing mommy type things, like cleaning up spills, giving reminders about table manners, cleaning up their own mess when done and so much more. After spending so much time in the lunchroom I started to notice a few things, that maybe other moms would love to know. This year on my family blog I have started sharing my Lunchroom tips once a week. Alice has given me a chance to share with you a few of those tips.

1. Please put both the child’s name and the teacher’s name somewhere on the lunch box. When a lunch box is found, if it has the teachers name on it, it makes it easier to either place it in the right lunch bucket or get it to the right classroom.

2. Fruit, what to do to make them eat their fruit. Well, a little container of fruit dip goes a long way. Also make sure those apples are cut up. Little ones, first graders especially still have a hard time eating the skins of apples due to loose teeth. Recently I have seen some children with cut up peaches, which in turn other children are begging for just a small piece of. Bananas don’t get eaten as well as you would think. They seem to be the perfect fruit for a home lunch. Well, they don’t always look that appealing after sitting in a lunch box all morning. kind of warm, and bruised from being bonked around as the child swings that lunch box around. I think you get the picture. Bananas and apples are the most thrown out fruit I see each day.

3. Do they eat everything you pack? No! Even if they tell you that they do most likely they empty what they could not finish right into the trash. They are not always eating everything that gets packed. Decided with your child a head of time what they should do with the food they don’t feel like eating at lunch time. Most children don’t want to upset their mothers because of the expectation of having to eat everything. There are days when a snack is brought into the classroom and eaten before lunch time. Leaving them too full to eat everything you have lovingly packed. Keep this in mind on party days, those thanksgiving meals, or other special days, etc.

4. Look at the lunch menu to see what is being served ahead of time. Then plan what days your child will be eating at school or bringing a lunch. We do this at our house. My 6th grader has loved packing her own home lunch this year.

5. Which brings me to this, please involve your child in planning their home lunches. There are so many wonderful ideas out there on how to pack the perfect home lunch. This is a perfect time to build up those communication skills with your children. Although it seems like a small thing, talking about what they like is important. I have even been doing this more with my children, of whom I have 5

6. Trading does take place at lunch,. Hot trade items include Capri suns, goodies (of course), Gogurts and chips. There are times that my children have planned a day a head of time what they are going to be trading. I have let them do it.

7. Cutest thing I see is the love notes that are written in a merriment of different ways. Many times I will have a child show me his/hers mothers love. There are times I read it to them. It really does mean something to your child. It doesn’t need to be everyday. But once in a while it is a nice surprise for them.

I do have many other things I plan on sharing in the weeks to come on my own blog about the lunchroom. I am so grateful to Alice for giving me the chance to post here.

Guest Post – Jarrett Ferguson Gold – Are Blondes Really Dumb?

It is against my better judgement to publish Jarrett’s jibberish, but when a family member actually takes time to write something, you can’t very easily turn it down, can you?

For the stories sake, you need to know.
I am Alice.(just in case you are blonde and have no idea who this blog belongs to)
LG is my husband.
Jarrett is LG’s cousin.

Jarrett is a liar, or maybe I should say that in a nicer way? Jarrett is a story-teller. He learned it from the best of the best, and it’s the very reason we get along so swell…just as soon as we worked out his hurt feelings over MY honeymoon in his backyard! Yes, my whole honeymoon was spent with my husband’s family. Can you believe we are still married? Apparently sleeping in your in-laws basement and your in-law’s in-law’s Winnebago is good luck for the long life of marriage. Who knew?

On with the guest post. All about blondes. And me. You can just disregard the part about me because it’s all lies. LIES!!! Yes, the owner of the blog gets the last word Jarrett.

The picture on facebook that started it all.
Jarrett: “Perfect corn maze for my dear sweetheart!”

Jarrett and his beautiful blondies

Is it true? Are blondes really dumb?

I’m not sure where the rooting of the blonde jokes comes from but there are some that do take the analysis seriously. Wikipedia link

I really never took it all that seriously. And based on my experience, being married to a blonde woman with blue eyes I never really thought of my wife as a dumb blonde. Oh sure there’s the occasional joke like the above referenced picture but she takes it well and knows I mean no harm by it.

Here’s a question: If she gets her hair highlighted, and the roots touched up, does that really make her a true blonde? It’s hard to tell anymore. The $100 Hundred dollar visits to the hair dresser drive me a bit crazy but she does have blue eyes naturally and was blonde as a child. I think most blondes grow up to eventually be browns anyways unless artificially maintained. IS that because they do get smarter as they get older?

As I ponder this infinitely eternal question of “Are blondes really dumb?” I can think of a lot of conflicting data. My sister is not a blonde. We used to call her an “ink head.” She was meant to be blonde but God dropped ink on her head instead. I love my sister, she’s a sweetheart, and as I get older I feel ashamed for the trauma that me and my two brothers likely caused her. We called her fat, dumb, lazy, and many other mean and cruel things. In the end, she turned out to become a really great person despite her horrible childhood with 3 awful brothers! She’s one of the sweetest most patient persons on the planet. She’s still a bit air-headed but she really does know a lot more than she lets on.

I’ve known LG longer than Alice has known LG. LG was very blonde as a child. AND he’s a very smart guy. His wife Alice on the other hand is not blonde and I would find the words flakey, flighty, or spastic to adequately describe Alice. I’ll never forget the first time I met Alice….or, was it just the sound of her voice I heard?

I had just gotten home from my 2 year Mormon mission from Spain. LG and I hadn’t seen each other in about 3 years due to the overlap of our missions. LG and Alice got married just a few days prior to my homecoming. LG and Alice got the honeymoon suite out in the backyard since they had recently taken vows! We’re talking deluxe accommodations for privacy. The Winnebago had a sign placed on the door, “If it’s a rocking don’t come a knocking!”

Being a recently returned Mormon missionary I had no qualms about knocking on a door and disturbing someone! Besides, I wanted to catch up with my dear friend and family member LG. Share my mission stories and hear some of his mission stories!

I certainly didn’t want to enter “their space” so LG and I took our conversation in the house. We’d been talking for maybe a ½ hour or so when we hear: “LG – WHERE ARE YOU? GET OUT HERE AND MAKE ME A HAPPY WOMAN!”

I was floored when I saw/heard this. I just wanted to catch up with my cousin who I hadn’t seen in 3 years and she’s yelling and carrying on like this after he’s been gone for 30 minutes?!! I asked: “What kind of NEEDY woman did you marry LG?”

When he replied it all made sense to me: “I married a sister missionary from my mission.” I offered my congratulations and condolences and LG went on to carry out his newly found and soon to be mastered husbandly duties.

So now were back to the original question: Are blondes really dumb?
I can’t say that I’ve done any scientific research, I can just think of two brunettes that exhibit blonde like qualities in the form of my sister and my cousins wife. Both of which are very sweet and awesome women!
In the end I know that my blonde wife can’t be all that dumb – after all, she did marry me!

J. Ferguson Gold

A couple of funny blonde jokes:
  1. A dumb blonde was really tired of being made fun of, so she decided to dye her hair to look like a brunette.When she had brown hair, she decided to take a drive in the country.After she had been driving for a while, she saw a farmer and a flock of sheep and thought,“Oh! Those sheep are so adorable!”She got out and walked over to the farmer and said,“If I can guess how many sheep you have, can I take one home?”The farmer, being a bit of a gambler himself, said she could have a try.The blonde looked at the flock and guessed, “157.”The farmer was amazed – she was right! So the blonde, (who looked like a brunette), picked one out and got back into her car.Before she left, the farmer walked up to her and said.“If I can guess the real color of your hair, can I have my dog back?”
  1. The assistant asked the blonde if she would like her pizza cut into six pieces or twelve.“Six please” she said, “I could never eat twelve!”
  1. A blonde asked someone what time it was, and they told her it was 4:45. The blonde, with a puzzled look on her face replied,“You know, it’s the weirdest thing, I have been asking that question all day, and each time I get a different answer.”

Guest Post – Lynnae

Lynnae Boyer Weller is a close family friend.
She writes eloquently at Life’s Little Parables.
And she wrote up this guest post in a day.
Did I tell you she is awesome?
More like family really.
She, like all of her other family members, 
are always good for a laugh or 100.
I blogged about her mother’s laugh here.
I sure do miss it still.
But, Nancy’s laugh most definitely lives on in her children.
As evidenced by this awesome guest post.

My little family has a long history with wolves. We have a very small zoo where we live, but It’s biggest exhibit is the wolves. When my daughter was 3, we visited the zoo and watched the wolves from an observation deck. The deck is open air and keeps you about 8 feet above the ground level. One wolf apparently thought my daughter would be a tasty treat. He trotted right over, sat down in front of her, and started licking his lips. He kept staring at her and licking his lips until we left! Needless to say, I kept a very tight hand on her that visit!

Since then, the zoo built a nice building you can go in to observe the wolves on ground level through a large, thick window. The first time we went there, one of the wolves apparently took a disliking to my son. The wolf saw him through the window and tried to urinate on him! Seriously disgusting, wolf!

Speaking of disgusting things that wolves do, my daughter, who is now 7, had the opportunity to see a presentation on wolves with one of her friends. She learned when a wolf makes a large kill, and is unable to take it back to the den, the wolf will urinate on the meat to “mark” it as his own. All the kids in the crowd were completely disgusted. However, my daughter thought about it for a minute and said, “Well, actually, it’s just like he’s putting his own sauce on it!”

I guess that disgusting wolf was just trying to put some sauce on my son!

Guest Post – Catherine

Catherine and Grant are some of our favorite people. Maybe I should say Grant and Catherine are some of our favorite people? Grant wouldn’t like being referred to last. He has an ego to feed. Grant happens to be LG’s cousin. He is Uncle Dirk’s offspring. Therefore, my kinship is as strong as LG’s.

For her guest post, Catherine has a cute little story to share. I hope none of you will take it as sacrilegious. You know how we love our Savior Jesus Christ. But when you love Him and teach your children about Him, you are bound to get a few funny stories.

Dakota was playing dress up and comes out with an off the shoulder outfit.
Here is how it goes:
Me: Dakota that’s not modest.
 Her: Jesus wear outfits like this. 
Me: He does? 
Her: “Yeah remember the picture where he got cut in the boob??” 
Me: Oh yeah, that’s right! and I had to laugh!

And I had to laugh too. That’s why I begged Catherine to do this guest post. Aren’t you glad I did? Kids say the darndest things.

Guest Post – Chad (Facebook Etiquette)

I like making new friends.
In real life and on facebook.
A while back, something I had posted
caught the eye of a real-life friend’s friend.

Her name was Daisy.
She will have to be a guest post another day.
She is buried in her book publisher’s demands right now.
Daisy and I got into it, back and forth about an issue I call
“underachieving students in our public schools”.

After Daisy proclaimed her loyalty and love
for kids who struggle in school,
and declared her position to single handedly
make a difference for all those she could reach,
I referred her to my post about my mom.
Years ago, my mom taught me about
that same kind of love

So, Daisy and I became forever after facebook friends. I call it FAFF.

Well, one day, whilst reading a post from Daisy on facebook
about making jam with some Mormon missionaries
(who she feeds and invites into her home regularly,
even though she is not a Mormon)
I got a good laugh at a comment.
The conversation had turned from the 30 jars of jam
to what it would take to eat it all.

Chad Deal wrote something like this:
“All the bread you are going to have to eat with that jam
will be enough to give a sperm whale a yeast infection.”
And, with the click of the mouse,
I found myself laughing uncontrollably,

The next thing I know, Chad is my newest facebook friend.
I am pleased to offer him up
as my latest and greatest guest post.

Here is Chad’s bio.
He wrote it himself.
I am so excited that I have a band director on my list of friends.
Abigail was just issued a french horn,
and I know absolutely nothing about it.

Chad Deal is a Music Educator in Georgia. He has directed High School Bands in Las Vegas, Atlanta, and Statesboro, GA. He is married to a wonderful woman (a saint, some say) and is the father of two little boys. He currently exists without his own web address, but only because is taken. His Facebook fan page was taken down after it made Brad Pitt look bad. Don’t tell me there wasn’t a conspiracy at work. If you would like to contact him, please find something more rewarding to do (he really is quite boring and full of himself), but if you must, please email

Chad’s contribution is called
Facebook Funny

I asked him to inform of us
his take on facebook no-no’s.
It does not disappoint,
but does have a few
PG-13 references.
But this Mormon blogger
can put up with them
in honor of
making new friends
and celebrating differences.

I am often asked to be funny. Actually, I am nearly always required to be funny. My life as a dad, hubby, and teacher insists that I be funny in order to make the mundane tolerable. Another outlet for my humor is Facebook. This social phenomenon has given me a huge audience (which is good because my wife has grown weary of hearing my jokes over and over on the phone and Facebook allows me to be silently funny). The compensation scale won’t pay the light bill (electric/power bill if you live outside of the South) but it does make me feel great when something I write elicits a favorable reply, “Like” or even a “nice one, Chad”.

It was just such a comment that lead me to this blog posting. I am not a blogger. I enjoy blogs, and have considered writing one, but I am always distracted by things like playing in the backyard, playing in the living room, and once the kids are asleep, doing some playing in the bedroom. So my blogging is limited to Facebook status updates and replies to the updates of others. I enjoy seeking out seemingly normal, mundane updates and finding the humor (or creating it), but I must say that sifting through the endless blathering of some of my friends has lead me to create a system for pruning my friends list.

I will approve nearly every friend request I receive through Facebook. Notable exceptions are 1) current students and their parents, 2) obvious spammers (unless they are super hot models) and 3) anyone from France. Once approved, everyone gets an audition. I keep an eye on their status updates and if I like what I see, they get to keep their coveted spot in my friends list. However, should they fall into one (or more) of the following categories, they are quickly removed, which can decimate someone’s cool point cache.

Category 1- The ‘Villes:
If you are a hardcore participant in any game that ends in ‘ville (Farm, Fish, Drug Cartel, etc.) I think that is fine, but if 90% of your updates are related to that, or other games, you may need an intervention… or a sign that points outside. Don’t get me wrong, I understand addiction… I have an iPhone, but for goodness sake, stop taking pictures of your computer screen and posting it for all of your friends to ignore. Tell me something interesting, like what you had for lunch, or how long your last (or first) orgasm lasted. Pique my interest with something real, something tangible. Otherwise, you will be banished from Chad-Ville.

Category 2- Pundits:
The only thing more annoying than the ville’s is politics. I don’t care if you are a Democrat, a Republican, or an Idiot… I mean, Independent (sorry, Freudian slip). If you think that a single political party has all the answers then you are in for more disappointment than my first Prom date. I understand having a strong opinion about certain issues, we all do, at least, I hope we all do. But please, refrain from trying to assert your superiority within your friend circle by regurgitating the flame-filled ramblings from our current “news” channels. I could write a book about everything I hate about politics and news, but I digress. Save the Soap-boxery for something that really matters, like guaranteeing that reruns of Friends are shown in the order they were meant to be shown and with all of the lead in and lead out jokes intact. Where is my PAC for THAT???

Category 3- Sickies:
Being in pain is terrible. I feel bad for you, I really do. Having spent a period of my life in chronic pain (4 years living in Alabama), I totally get the need to seek compassion, but do we need to hear EVERY single complaint? “I have a headache” “Tummy is upset today…FML”.
FML (F**K My Life)??? REALLY??? For an upset tummy??? Please get some perspective. You can find it at Wal*Mart. Spend 15 minutes watching the endless train of poor decisions coupled to a substandard education and a caboose of Zero fashion sense and you will understand the true meaning of FML. Your aches and pains cannot possibly compare to the despair of these people (which would be 100 times worse if they actually knew what despair was). Save the complaining for your bartender. At least he is getting paid while he listens. Maybe I should start a game called Bar-Ville.

Category 4- Haters:
“I hate my job”, “I hate my Ex”,”I hate my neighbors”. Complaining is natural. We all hate something, and misery loves company. But I simply cannot commiserate with ALL of the hate that comes up in my news feed. Times are tough, and many people are stuck in a job that is unfulfilling, but one thing that I have learned in all my years of punching the time clock is this: Complaining only makes it worse. It forces you to focus exclusively on the most negative aspects of your job. Instead, find the best thing (even if it is quitting time) and keep that in your sights. You’ll be surprised how many more positive things there are when you look past the negatives. Same thing with an Ex-husband or Wife. Something drew you to that person originally. Instead of spending all of your energy hating the person they are, try to remember what you loved about them to start with (even if it was only the great sex. Reliving that in your mind once or twice might temper some of the hatred and allow you to move on). Hate the neighbors? Join the club. Kill ‘em with kindness… or poison, but stop the hate.

So, what next? Well, anyone that falls into one or (god forbid), more of the above categories is placed on a watch list. If the annoying behavior dominates the Wall, and subsequently, my news feed, then I block or delete. I need quality soil to grow the seeds of my humor. I get no inspiration from the ‘ville’s, pundits, sickies, or haters. I need quality material like mundane updates with poor grammar and/or misspellings. I adore people that mix up their attempts at descriptive language and my heart leaps every time someone misses obvious sarcasm. What can you do to make my experience better? Here are some tips:

• Accidentally slip up and reveal juicy details about your private life
• Take lots of pictures when you are out in public (preferably of people you don’t know) and post them.
• Occasionally post something on your Wall that was supposed to be a private message.

As I am not the only Facebook user out there, please feel free to comment with the thing(s) that drive you the most crazy about the Facebook experience. My next Guest Post (if I am invited back) will be about Twitter and why I think we find celebrities so fascinating (PREVIEW–WE DON’T).

Thanks for reading. Stay subscribed and try the veal.

My two cents – Category 5 – The Runners. These people love to post about how busy they are, so they somehow feel important because their declarations so obviously rat themselves out. They feel so insignificant. They also like to talk about how much THEY RUN. 5 miles, 6 miles, 18.5 pairs of shoes, 192 roadkill. Can’t go to sleep until I finish up my sprints on my treadmill.

What annoying facebook categories can you guys come up with?
If you aren’t on facebook, do you have categories for your blogging friends?

Guest Post – Donna (Birthing Story)

I have decided to implement two new features on the blog.
The first is Just Ask Alice.
You will hear more about this one later.
But, somebody told me that I should write an advice column.
And I am going to start taking questions.
How fun is that?
About as fun as this picture of the beautiful Jada.

The second new implement is the Guest Post.
My friend Donna was kind enough to be my first.
Jada is Donna’s beautiful daughter.
Thanks Donna.
You always got my back.
Donna is the first because she is
the most hilarious person I know.
We once talked about starting our own blog together.
We were going to name it
“Raising @#!*% at the Rose Home.”
That’s because we were
the life of the party at
our Bishop’s house
a couple of years ago.
We are so inappropriate.
And funny.
And fun.
We are most definitely
not your typical Mormon wives.
God bless our husbands.
I love reading about people.
I love hearing their stories.
So, Donna was kind enough
to write part of her life story.
I asked her to share a funny one.
I found it very odd that she chose a birthing story.
Because she is the most adamant supporter
of women getting lives.
And not wasting girls night out with
birth stories,
diaper changing horrors,
cleaning tips,
scrapbooking display,
shoe collection comparison.
(We all know that she would win anyway)
Donna and I
are kindred spirits.
In conversation,
we go straight for the kill
with topics like
except-able behavior.
(like so many Knoxvillians lack)
I miss Donna.
She moved to New York.
She has a great blog,
with lots of recipes.
I don’t think she could ever recover
when her dog Charlie died.
She had to get out of state.

The Parvo is bad.
We loved Charlie.
I am glad I got some pictures of him.
My only regret with Donna’s guest post,
is that you can’t hear her tell you the story in person.
I have her voice imprinted in my eardrum.
It’s saying things like:
For sure. No doubt. Charlie!!! No not Charlie!!!

Well, here is Donna’s story.
It’s about when her son Miles was born.
And the picture to go with it.
This picture is so much better to look at
after reading the story.
Donna told me to make sure to tell you
the parts she originally forgot:
Don’t forget to add the fact that I had to share a room with a Dominican who had a party everyday till visiting hours were over, AND a bunch of Indians ( like from India) had 5 generations in there room across the hall. Oy!

Miles to go before I push.
I always had nightmares about giving birth in public
since we’ve moved to NYC.
I was especially nervous because
I didn’t know what real contractions
or natural labor felt like since I got induced with Jada.
I’ve had contractions off and on
but they were those Braxton Hicks,
and to be honest
sometimes I couldn’t tell if
it was contractions or gas…..ANYWAY.

Monday at like 5 in the morning
I starting getting cramps,
but they weren’t that intense,
but they came every so often
with intese pressure on my bottom.

I called my mom and she was like yep those are for real.
I had 4 within the hour,
but she said it was too early to go to the hospital.
Seth was going to leave for work,
and I told him I would just call him when they got closer.

I head in the shower,
and when I got out
the contractions were 10 mins apart,
then 5.
This happened all within a span of 10 mins.
I tried to get dressed,
and call him on the phone
but I couldn’t talk
so I just screamed
when he answered the phone.

The landlord came up and was freaking out.
She kept telling me to breathe,
and helped me get dressed
and offered to take me to the hospital.

Seth races home and Niki
(the landlord)
helps me get downstairs.
I tried so hard not to scream and cry
when I had contractions
because I didn’t want to wake everyone up.
It was like 6:45 in the morning.
I couldn’t help it
and was screaming down the stairs.
(later Niki told me her daughter
who is getting married soon
doesn’t want to have kids now
becuase of my primal screams)

We get to the hospital
and its like a scene out of a movie.
I get a wheelchair and they rush me up to L&D
meanwhile I am hollering due to the contractions
and the workers in the hall are like
“go mama go”
“Breathe mama breathe”.
We get up to L&D
and they are asking me all these dumb questions
that they should know already since I pre-registered.

THEN the guy has the nerve to tell me
to go sit and wait in the waiting room.
I’m like hello I can’t sit or walk,
and I’m screaming every 3 mins.
So I’m clinging to the wall trying to walk,
in the meantime wondering what the H is going on
and why I’m not in a gown.

My only concern is I need an epidural,
I need something,
because the pain is sooo intense.
I guess my screams got intense for them
so they finally put me in a room.

The nurse kept telling me to breathe and stop screaming,
I’m like easy for you to say.
I went in at 730ish am and I was at a 4.

I kept asking everyone in the room
when I was going to get an epidural .
They were like we have to do your blood work first,
and blah blah blah.

THEN it was the anesthesiologist
was doing a C section
so I’d have to wait.

In the mean time I was thinking
“please God just let me die now.”
I asked again,
and the anastesiologist was still tied up with people.
Pain more intense,
screaming more despreate.
You know when you are in so much pain
and you just can’t get comfortable?
Meanwhile Seth keeps rubbing my leg and back,
and I’m yelling if you touch me again!….
Finally he was like you taught yoga
you know how to breathe,
my response was some choice words after that.

My water broke on its own
and I start screaming
they need to come now I think I have to push.

They come and check me and I’m at a 10
within 45 mins of getting there.
The nurse is like congratulations you are ready to deliver.
My heart races and my face goes dead.
“What about an epidural?”
She tells me I don’t need one I just need to push.

I get panicky wondering if I will survive the ordeal.
I’m thinking can you get me something?
A beer?
Something to club myself over the head with?
The Doctor waltzes in a
nd tells me to push where his finger is.
I go and try to grab is hand out of there.
I feel like I have to go to the bathroom,
and they say push.

I feel the worst pressure ever
and the primal, jungle, call of the wild,
blood curdling roar comes out of me.
My only motivation is a long a
s I get the head out the rest is cake.
3 pushes later Miles slides into home base.

I sigh the biggest sigh of relief and exclaim
that was the worst pain I have ever felt in my life!

While I’m getting stitched up I thank God
that I survived that whole ordeal and that it went quick.

Natural labor is a beast,
but you feel like you can take on the world
after going through that pain.

Seriously it feels like someone shot you
with a gun in the genitals.
Anyway thats my story and I’m stickin to it.

P.S. So sorry Donna, I have come back and blocked commenting from this post.
You will be so proud. I received over 400 comments on this post advertising porn.
I guess there are a lot of sick people out there who would have liked to watch you give birth.