Posts Tagged uterus
When your uterus threatens to take hostages, things are clearly out of control. Menstruation Rules!
Posted by Lotus, aka Sarcastic Mom in Body/Health, Humor, Rant on April 6, 2009
Dear Internet:
My muse wanted me to tell you that she’s been rockin’ and rollin’ pretty heartily recently. She has knocked back some stiff drinks, tickled my brain with the naughty feather, and laughed in my ear. I have grinned, typed, and clickity clacked away at my keyboard, happily.
She also wants you to know that tonight, she’d love to help me out and provide some great content for you, however, she’s been struggling to keep her head above the muck inside the swirling vat of menstrual hormones that is MY ENTIRE BEING right now. Earlier, she was doing the drowning sign and gasping for air. I gave her the finger and told her to “fend, bitch” because I have my own shit to deal with, okay?
She is currently fleeing from my angry, rampaging uterus, which is running at her full force, prepared to bludgeon her to death with an engorged tampon. It has already threatened to create a hostage situation with a list of demands if it can capture her. That ho bettah run, because here at Casa SarcMom we do NOT negotiate with Effing Terrorists. Or Asshole Uteri.
In defense of the out-of-control uterus, it feels like a damn badger is gnawing on it, and just in case you’re wondering? NO. THAT DOES NOT FEEL GOOD. It feels… how do they say it? AbsofackinlutelyCraptastic.
So that great content? Uh… yeah.
Also? Who the hell authorized there being NO WINE IN MY HOUSE RIGHT NOW?
I might have to burn it down just to make a point.
I’m going to go punch myself in the uterus really hard (knock that damn badger loose) and then look for the matches.
Someone send booze.
Some letters I really needed to get off my chest, immediately.
Posted by Lotus, aka Sarcastic Mom in Humor, letters on September 8, 2008
Dear Uterus,
Just so you know, it would totally be okay with me if you wanted to just… you know… leave. For awhile. Get out. GO AWAY. Consider it a vacation, whatever! WE really don’t need one another right now anyway, right? And the ripping, tearing, and cramping pain you’re causing me today is really not what I’d call “pleasant” or “enjoyable” or even “moderately bearable.” It’s more like “excruciating” and it “sucks ass.” It makes me want to “smash myself in the head with a sledge hammer to numb all feeling in my body.”
You’re also creating quite a mess around here. I, for one, don’t appreciate the stained crotches in my underwear that I can never seem to avoid when you start doing your special thing every month. Furthermore, I’m quite tired of feeling like a regularly tapped keg of Hawaiian Punch.
In case you’re trying to leave a “trail” because you were thinking I was lost in the woods and needed to find my way home, let me set you straight. I’m just fine, here at home, and there are no witches trying to eat me. (In fact, as long as you keep it up, Uterus, NO ONE is going to be trying to eat me. Thanks for that!)
So, really, please treat yourself to a Bahamas Cruise several times in a row, or a couple of months in Europe. Really, that would be great. Hell, go spelunking in some caves somewhere and get eaten by bats for all I care. I just think we need some time apart.
It’s not me. It’s you.
Your Encasement,
Lotus
**********************************************
Dear Mind/Brain, Back, Stomach, and Legs,
Look. Just because Uterus gets the notion once a month to start acting like a total jerkface doesn’t mean that you should, too. I would really appreciate a little support here. I mean, at a time when I’m literally feeling like The Evil Undead is clawing its way out of my gut, you could step up to the plate and try to help me hold things together instead of chiming in with The Chorus of Pain and Insanity.
But no, you’re just a bunch of shameless lemmings. If you weren’t attached to me, I would say something like, “I hope you just fall off/out/rot/die/snap.”
But, um, don’t do any of that. Please.
Holding Onto Last Shred Of Sanity
(for as long as mind allows me to, damn you, mind)
Lotus
**********************************************
Dear Eve,
It was a SNAKE.
AN EFFIN SNAKE!
Really? You had to listen to a SNAKE?
I HATE YOU.
One of Your Many Daughters, Bound To Your Sin,
Lotus
You may now peer into my uterus.
Posted by Lotus, aka Sarcastic Mom in Uncategorized on April 24, 2008
For some reason, the really cute widget that lets you see the alien baby in my uterus right now is being CRAPPY and it’s not working properly in the post. “No Widget Found,” it stupidly proclaims, when I try to include it in my post.
So click over to the website and look at my sidebar so you can Peeping Tom my uterus.
And you know you want to. Come on. Admit it.
It’s official – this lil’sprout is very, very new! The pregnancy is considered to be 5 weeks along, although the baby has only been growing for 3 weeks. (It has always annoyed me that the extra time b/w first day of last period and date of actual conception are added. That is NOT how old my baby is, you crazy fools!)
*ahem*
So, like I was saying, Baby Number Two is 3 Weeks old. 
Due dates are pretty notorious for actually meaning “this is the time of year AROUND WHICH your baby will be born.” So, with that in mind, our official due date for Baby #2 is December 24, 2008.
Yes. Christmas Eve.
Please, save your groans. If your birthday is in December and it has ruined your life b/c of the whole Christmas gifts instead of Birthday gifts/No one really cares about my birthday,Waaah! Thing, please save all your reprimands for someone else. Someone who won’t think long and hard about mailing you a box o’ dog poop.
Honestly, I’ve been talking about mailing someone a box of dog poop for irritating me in some way or another for years now, people. For YEARS. And I have yet to do it!
Don’t pick Pregnancy Time to test me.
(By the way, have I ever mentioned that I become a totally defensive, boorish, fight-picking hag when I’m pregnant? No? Well, I do.)
*pause*
(Ok, so I just have something to blame my usual personality on when I’m actually pregnant. SHUT.UP.)
So, yes. I’ve worried a little bit that my kid will be very annoyed with me for letting Daddy “bang me and knock me up” at this time of year.
But in the end, I’m sure I will do SO MANY MORE things that he/she will hate me for.
So, I’m going with not caring about this one right now.
Cool? Cool.
Now give me something to eat. I’M STARVING.
My Wiggle Bean
Theme for December 15th, 2007: “Small”
March, 21 2006. The first time we ever saw Braden James Carroll. And he was, indeed, very small – about an inch long. The picture says,”9 weeks, 2 days.” That is actually the time since the start of the last period I had had at the time. It had actually been 7 weeks and 2 days since Braden had been conceived.
He was not even a full 2 months old. Just 7 weeks. And his little heart was beating. I saw it.
Seeing my son for the first time since I had learned that he was alive inside of me was an experience which sparked a feeling in me that I cannot find the words to describe. Such emotion washed over me as to literally take my breath away. It was something like having a part of your brain and your soul that was dead for your whole life just suddenly awakening and coming to life.
He did a little wiggly, squirmy dance for us while we were looking at him. From that day on, we called him “Wiggle Bean.”
I thank God for my Wiggle Bean. No matter how big he gets, I will always remember how he was once so small, and yet he was more important to me than the whole world. And always will be.
Yeah, I know, lists/ugh. I've always been bad at accepting compliments, and this is no different. I was surprised and honored by this - someone thinks I've done a good job. Icky Listness aside, that makes me smile. :-)lotus works
lotus supports
lotus is impressed by her friends
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