The Chair of POWER!

From time to time I am THE PRINCIPAL for my building. At these times, there are no administrators, so it's just...me. Actually, I've done this many times and you just can't dread it, because it's so different every single time.


You know, at first when you are THE PRINCIPAL, you start to feel pretty powerful. You run around with the walkie talkie, shouting orders to the janitors, nurse, and secretaries (well, not really shouting, but I do adore using that thing). You see all kinds of discipline issues coming in the office. I like to sit behind the big desk and look all intimidating. In the building I work in we have teeny tiny kids, and we have gigantor kids (I have several students who are as tall, or taller, than me). When those little kids come in the office for the first time, they are scared to death. Their little lips quiver, their little eyes fill with tears, and all it takes is a very stern talking to. Just coming to the office is enough.


Then, when you start to feel like you might know what you're doing, and that you're in control, some big crap head who is taller than you comes in the office. The desk doesn't intimidate him, and neither do my meanest looks and sternest lectures. In fact, they reply something like "Whatever. I don't give a !@#$ anyway. Just give me ISS." That, my friends, is a GREAT feeling.


Or the phone calls like this:


Me: Hello, Mrs. Dumbass? This is Ms. Non-Mommy from The School of the Kids Have Their Way. I'm calling to let you know that this morning Johnny had an incident on the bus. Unfortunately, he chose to punch another child in the face and then poke him all over with a pencil.


Now, this is the moment that defines who you really are. You get one of the following reactions:


Mrs. Dumbass #1: Well, that just doesn't surprise me. I can't do anything with that kid. No one can control him. I gave up on him a long time ago. I keep telling my boyfriend to talk to him, because he needs a father. But Johnny doesn't like this boyfriend. I think it might have something to do with my recent break up with his old step dad. So I don't know what to do with him, either.

-----
Mrs. Dumbass #2: Who is this?

Me: Ms. Non-Mommy, from The School of the Kids Have Their Way. I'm acting as principal today because Mrs. Head Honcho is out of the building.

Mrs. Dumbass #2: What the hell do you want me to say? I tell Johnny to defend himself. I'm not going to let some punk ass push my kid around. He can do whatever he needs to, and I support him.

Me: I understand your position, but unfortunately, Johnny went against handbook guidelines and the school is obligated to enforce the rules set in the handbook.

Mrs. Dumbass #2: You know, I am so damn sick and tired of hearing from this school about rules. When I was a kid, we didn't have all these rules. I guess you can put him in ISS, but I'm still going to tell him that he can hit whoever the hell he wants.

-------

Mrs. Dumbass #3: Who is this again?

Me: Ms. Non-Mommy, from The School of the Kids Have Their Way. I'm the acting principal today while Mrs. Head Honcho is out of the building.

Mrs. Dumbass #3: And what do you say Johnny did?

Me: Well, Johnny chose to punch another child on the bus.

Mrs. Dumbass #3: I just don't think he did that. I know my son, and he would never do anything like that.

Me: I understand, it must be very difficult to watch your child make mistakes. I'm sure you understand my position, however.

Mrs. Dumbass #3: Well, I don't believe that Johnny did it.

Me: We have video directly from the bus of the incident. Johnny is clearly shown punching the other child, and has also confessed to hitting him.

Mrs. Dumbass #3: I want to discuss this with the real principal.

Me: I understand. I will ask Mrs. Head Honcho to call you back. It may be some time until she is available to call you.

-------

Mrs. Dumbass #4: What?? I can't believe it!

Me: I know. It is very unfortunate.

Mrs. Dumbass #4: I just can't believe it. He's such a sweet boy. He never, ever gets in trouble.

Me: [Looking at his file, and the 16 office referrals he's had this year] I understand. However, Johnny has confessed to punching the other child, and so I will have to place him in ISS for the day.

Mrs. Dumbass #4: Ask any teacher in the building, or the principals. Johnny never gets in trouble.

Me: [rolling my eyes] Oh yes?

Mrs. Dumbass #4: I suppose you can't tell me who the other child was.

Me: I'm sorry, Mrs. Dumbass, I am not at liberty to share information about other students.

Mrs. Dumbass #4: I understand. It's just that I can't imagine Johnny doing that. I'm just sure he was provoked. Can you give me a clue who it was?

Me: I'm sorry, I can't do that.

Mrs. Dumbass #4: Was it Billy? Since first grade, he and Billy have never gotten along. Once Billy even sat on his Valentine box! Was it Billy?

Me: Mrs. Dumbass, I really am unable to share information about the other child. I just wanted to make you aware that Johnny had a discipline issue, and that he will be serving time in ISS for the day.

Mrs. Dumbass #4: Can you please have the real principal call me? I just don't think Johnny could have done it. Unless it was Billy.

(At the end of the day, all you can do is feel like you looked the part of the principal wearing a cute little jacket and big jewelry, and try not to despair at the state of our society.)

A trip down memory lane

I promised that I would write about another thing that happened the same year I went to the museum with the old fogies, so here is the event, written as a play.

The events in this play are real. Names have been changed to protect the innocent.

Mary and Monica's Excellent Adventure

Setting - I15 Freeway, somewhere between Los Angeles and San Diego

Characters - Mary (me), Monica (My best friend and mother of two), Jose (2 1/2 year old boy), Ilse (1 1/2 year old girl), Home Owner.


Scene I - I15 North

Monica: I'm so excited to show you this house!

Mary: I can't wait to see it! It sounds amazing.

Jose: [singing]Baby Beluga in the deep blue sea...

Ilse: Ga ba ba la ba

Monica: Oh look, someone got pulled over.

Mary: Yeah look, like 4 motorcycles at the same time.

Monica: Have you noticed that that is like the 6th cop car we've seen so far?

Mary: Yes, and Border Patrol seems busy today, too.

Jose: I want a snack!

Scene II - The Amazing House

Home Owner: Blah blah blah wainscoting blah blah blah blah paint color [Sidenote: I'm only writing "blah" to demonstrate that a conversation took place about the new house, it was NOT boring in any way, and it's a gorgeous house!]

Mary: It's very nice!

Monica: I've got to get Mary back to pick up her car. She has to be back in San Diego soon. Gotta go!

[Jose runs around the yard like a crazed toddler while Ilse eats rocks]

Scene III - I15 South

Mary: Will we make it back on time? We left a little late.

Monica: Oh yeah, we should get there quickly.

(3 minutes later...traffic comes to a screeching halt)

Monica: This is weird. The traffic shouldn't be stopped at this time of the day. I wonder if an accident happened?

(7 cop cars go peeling by on either shoulder of the freeway, and three cop motorcycles drive through the traffic)

Mary: Wow. It must have been a big accident.

(15 minutes later, still sitting on the freeway)

Mary: Look! They are arresting more men on motorcycles! They are in handcuffs. I wonder what is going on?

Monica: We have barely moved on this freeway. I think you may need to call Grace and tell her you'll be late.

(30 minutes later, going 1 mile an hour on the freeway)

Monica: Oh my gosh! They are arresting another group of motorcyclists! They must be looking for something.

Mary: Look how many men they have handcuffed! I've NEVER seen so many police in one place before. Over there they are wearing "Gang Task Force" vests. This must be gang related. Oh my gosh! Here come even more police!!

Jose: Mama, I'm hungry!

Ilse: Ba la la ba ga!

Mary: I'm getting a sunburn from sitting in the sun. This is ridiculous.

Monica: Here, put Ilse's outfit on your arm. I know it's dorky, but at least it'll cover the skin.

[Mary looks skeptical, but desperate times call for desperate measures. They were not going anywhere.]

(55 minutes after crawling or sitting on the freeway)

Mary: I cannot believe how many motorcyclists they are stopping. This is crazy. Hey, I'm kind of tired of this kids CD. Can we listen to something else?

[The entire car sings along with Madonna]

(1 hour and 5 minutes into the sitting break)

Monica: Traffic is starting to lighten up now. We're finally getting out of here. You were already supposed to be back. I'm really sorry.

Mary: It's not your fault. You didn't arrange for a billion cops to arrest all these motorcyclists to be arrested.

Monica: Here are more cops. Look, this time, it's a truck. They are arresting people out of it.

Mary: They are totally looking for drugs. Look at the way that they have every part of that truck open and apart.

Monica: You are right.

(1 hour and 15 minutes in the crawling traffic)

Monica: LOOK! There is a line of men with their hands tied with those plastic things sitting on the side of the freeway.

Mary: They are loading their bikes onto a trailer. There are at least 13 motorcycles there.

Jose: Motorcycle! Motorcycle! Motorcycle!

Ilse: hahaha

(1 hour and 23 minutes into the crawling traffic)

Mary: OOOH! Here are a TON of cops! And I'm right next to them, so maybe I'll see something good. Oh my GOSH!

Monica: I can't even COUNT how many cop motorcycles are there!

Mary: I'm going to get my camera. When we get to the action, I'll take a picture.

[Mary bends down to get her camera, when Monica suddenly screams]

Monica: OH MY GOD!!!!!! Mary!!

Mary: [jerks up and gasps] HOLY !@$%

Monica: It's a standoff!!!

Mary: THEY ARE POINTING GUNS AT ONE ANOTHER! GO GO GO MONICA!

Monica: AHHHHHHHH!!!

Mary: AHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!

Jose and Ilse: [Laughing because they don't know what is going on]AHHH!

Monica: We are only one lane away from them.

Mary: Just go! Go forward!

(Traffic opens up, and Mary and Monica speed away, shaking and panting. Mary calms the kids down while Monica drives)

Monica: Holy !@#$%ing !@#$

Mary: My hands are still shaking.

Monica: We were so close to them.

Mary: Well, at least it's a good story to tell. If only I had gotten a picture!

The End

Sidenote: The Gang Task Force was arresting the Mongols motorcycle gang who were having a convention in this area.

Cocoon Revisited

 I got my first ever "Senior Discount" two years ago yesterday.


Before I tell you this story, I need to give you some background history. You see, I've never really been a fan of the older generation. I tend to think that, in general, some of them can really be pushy simply because they are old and think they deserve to be treated in a certain way. Sometimes I think I have some sensory issues, because the smacking/licking/coughing noises that people naturally make are very, very difficult for me to stand. And this generation makes a lot of those noises. I think you need to know that I do believe there are really sweet, thoughtful old folks out there. But the church I was forced to go to as a child was FULL of very mean, judgmental, pushy old people. I was one of the few children there. This experience really jaded me. Since the death of my grandfather, my grandmother has rapidly gone through a transformation into a miserable old lady. OK, end of gross generalizations, and onto the story!


Two years ago, I went through my own personal hell called a DayTripper trip to see the terracotta warriors from China. My grandma really wanted to go. I knew this would be a hard experience for me, but I was willing to do it for her. She signed us up for one of those old people tours. We met the bus at a park and ride. As we got on the bus, I was the only, I do mean the ONLY non-silver hair on the trip. No one was even remotely close to my age. Every single person on there was old. As I walked to our seat, I heard a woman say "She's too young to be on this trip. Is that allowed?" As we were seated, the smell of strong floral perfume almost knocked me over. They started the bus ride by offering us a snack. We got a tiny can of juice and our choice of a hard granola bar (in the green package) or a soft granola bar (in the silver package).


We rode the bus north to a Chinese restaurant. Before going in, we had to put on DayTripper stickers. I made a beeline for the bathrooms to beat the old ladies to the toilet. The line was massive. The walkers really made the restroom line even longer. While waiting to use the bathroom, one old lady told me that she would have to go before me because she really had to go to the bathroom. The lady behind me told me that if the handicap stall opened next that I couldn't take it, because she needed more room.

We ate lunch in tables of 10 people. They put the food on a Lazy Susan in the middle. My grandma kept spinning the Lazy Susan while people were serving themselves food. We did have an interesting conversation about living in Alaska. Did you know that in Alaska they don't pay state or sales tax, and they get PAID to live there?


Back on the bus we went, with lots of creaking and groaning as they got on. We arrived at the Bowers Museum in Santa Ana, California. It's a really cute little museum if you're ever in the area. We piled very slowly off of the bus and waited our turn to go into the terracotta warriors exhibit. We went through a gemstone exhibit that was pretty interesting. The "butting" in line and pushing began here. The old folks all want to see what they want to see, when they want to see it. They seem to be incapable of waiting their turn. Suckers like me who tried to wait their turn got gypped out of seeing anything. Soon, it was time to see the warriors. They handed all the old folks those phone-like speakers to listen to the tour. The entire crowd stopped and crashed into one another, with shouts of "HOW does this thing work?" The entrance was completely blocked. It never dawned on any of them to move to the side and figure it out.


When we got in to see the warriors, I found that there were about 5 other DayTripper groups in there, not just us. It was a sea of silver hair and walkers. I was appalled at how rude and inconsiderate they were. They would literally walk right in front of people to see. They would push. It was maddening. My grandma was just as bad as the rest of them. The old folks kept setting off the alarms because they would lean in too closely to the exhibit. It was hot in there, I couldn't see anything, and I was sick of the pushing. They were so inconsiderate. I really thought I might beat an old person to death with my little speaker thingie.


The exhibit was interesting, but disappointing. If you don't know anything about these terracotta warriors, a farmer in China was digging a well when he found a massive cavernous room full of life size Chinese warrior statues, and horses. There were hundreds and hundreds of them. They are all unique. Emperor Ziagoaoogupaiuhiuhsiuhkns made them to protect him in the afterlife (I can't remember his name). The museum made it sound like they had 100 of these warriors. They really had about 5 of the warriors and then other artifacts like roof tiles from China. A little disappointing. But I must say, those statues are VERY interesting, and I'm sure VERY creepy in mass numbers!


I told my grandma that I was appalled with the behavior of the people, and embarrassed (including her - which I didn't say). She said she knew that she was rude, but she wanted to see it. Not good.

We had to wait a long time while the rest of the old folk finished touring the museum. Then it was back on the bus, for water and cookies. I was very, very car sick and had to pee so badly. As we were nearing the end of our tour, the tour guide said "Would you like any hard candy?" I thought to myself "I bet you anything I know what candy it is. It'll be butterscotch candy, and those candies wrapped in strawberry wrappers." Typical old people candy. Guess what? I was correct.


When we got to the car, I told my Grandma how much I needed to use the restroom. We weren't far by freeway from the house so it shouldn't have been a problem. My grandma insisted on taking the long way because it's more scenic. We caught every G.D. red light on the way. I was in misery. It ended up taking us double the time it normally would have. I was writhing in pain when she says to me "Let's stop at the post office and pick up the mail.  I want to see if my Netflix came today." I exploded. "You have GOT to be kidding me!" and I went off. I ended with "And if we stop and pick up the mail for a Netflix movie, I will pee all over that movie, how would you like that??"


It was a long, long, hard day for me. I immediately, after peeing, got back into the car and went to Barnes and Noble for some peace and quiet. I then went to Long's and bought some chocolate.


I never, ever will get old!!!

(Monique, I have another post that I am going to write about that happened to you and I on that same trip.  Just wait!)

You...knotheads!

When I was a kid, my sister and I did something to make my dad really angry.  I don't recall what we said or did, but I remember vividly his reaction.  He stood there, face getting red, struggling to come up with the correct words, and exploded with "You...knotheads!"  After the moment passed, we all found his reaction hilarious and have joked about it ever since.

Today, I had my own knothead moment.

Before I explain about the day, I want you to know the honest truth.  I want to be married and I want to be a mother.  Badly.  I really do.  It hasn't worked out for me yet, and accepting that it may never happen hasn't been easy, but I absolutely love being with children and look forward to having a family of my own someday.  I also have a completely wonderful nephew.  He's incredible.  He's funny, he's sweet, he's well behaved, and I adore every moment I spend with him.  The former baby has been such a great blessing to my life and has helped my family get through some really tough times this year.

But, he's also two.  And I'm also human and impatient.  Plus, we didn't get to go to the pool today, so that makes me extra cranky!

The day started off normally.  The formal baby was a little bit emotional today and clingy.  We cuddled a lot today.  He ate an early lunch, I put him down for a nap and he only laid in his bed for 15 minutes, singing his three favorite songs ("Twinkle, Twinkle," "Ba Ba Black Sheep" and the alphabet song) Broadway style (I'm so proud!  I taught him that!).  When he woke up we went for a long walk and he stopped at every car and yelled hello.

We came back to the house and I had to scan a bunch of pictures for a project I am working on.  I had to install the printer, and it took a long time, and kind of irritated me.  The scanner is a tad on the slow side.  I could, for example, take the dog hair out of the Dyson and weave the fur into a fabric and make a sweater in the time that it takes to scan one picture.  If you scan them all at once and then transfer them to the computer it is much faster than doing it one picture at a time.  So I scanned, and scanned, and scanned.  I scanned a whole, WHOLE lot of pictures.

In the process, my mother's farty anxious dog came to see me.  You see, my father passed away recently and now that my mother is gone on a trip, the dog is beside herself.  She thinks my mom is not coming back, I believe.  She constantly follows me around panting.  So, here comes the smelly, farty dog and she trips over the cord to the scanner and unplugs the thing.  I lost all the work I had done.  All of it.

I started to lose control.  I started to yell at the dog, who doesn't understand what she did, and I started to use words that rhyme with "buck" and "hit."  I recalled, however, that the former baby is like a myna bird right now, repeating everything.  So, I took a deep breath and kicked that smelly dog outside.  Fart on your own space, smelly dog, and stay away from my scanner!!

I resumed scanning, pulling out the pictures I had already done, and the former baby heard the scanner make a noise.  The former baby is drawn to anything electronic like a moth to a flame.  He came sprinting over as fast as his little chubby legs would take him, and turned off the freaking scanner!!  I lost my work, AGAIN.

I tried to use his swear words.  I yelled "WAFFLE!  VACUUM!"  But it didn't help me feel better.

I aborted the scanning mission and decided that I needed to find something else to do.  Meanwhile, the former baby, who lives, eats and breathes all things "vacuum" managed to get out the vacuum.  I look over and he is plugging the vacuum into the wall socket.  Not only is he NOT allowed to do this, I recalled a conversation I once had with my sister.  I asked her if I could drive the former baby to a party store to pick up supplies for my mother's birthday.  Her response to me was:

Well, I guess you could.  But I want you to understand that the baby is the most important thing in my life.  If something ever happened to him, I would forgive you, but it would forever be a stumbling block in our relationship.

Well, crap.  If she doesn't want me to drive around with him, she most definitely doesn't want me to let him electrocute himself.  So I swiftly corrected the situation.  This made the former baby very, very angry.  He knows he can't hit, so he turned around, found my digital camera, and threw it across the room.  I put him in the corner and listened to him wail as I put the vacuum away.  I was clearly ruining his entire life by putting it in the closet.  When he threw the camera, my memory card fell out and is still MIA.

Soon, my sister would be here to pick up the former baby.  I was rapidly losing patience with the little knothead.  So I took the former baby to a room where he played with a toy school bus.  He secretly put my camera batteries in the bus and was playing with them.  When I took the batteries away from him he was furious.  So then I put him at the piano and he played "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star" about 45 times in a row.  I'm not even kidding.

I laid in the middle of the floor, trying to find my zen place, and made up my own words to the song.

Twinkle, twinkle little star

Where is your mother in her car?

You are cranky, and edgy

You're driving your aunt over the ledge-y

Twinkle, twinkle little star

Mommy I wonder where you are?

Thankfully, the child, who I truly do love, left soon after, but NOT before getting angry and head butting me like a goat.

All of this got me thinking.  Why am I happy to be a non-mommy?  What am I missing out on by not being a mother yet?  Here are some of my thoughts.

• When I am at the pool, the former baby has a certain panache for pulling my swimsuit top off.  He has exposed my white, white boob to the sun more times this summer than it has ever been exposed to in the past.  Perhaps this will help me find Mr. Right?  (Oh, wait.  I'm in a pool full of children, carrying a child that looks just like me, and I am so pigmentally challenged that I look like I'm half-albino.  There is no hope.)
• Tomorrow morning, I will get to sleep in.  All you mothers out there won't really be able to.  Non-mommyhood rocks!  Well, except for the fart machine dog that I'll have to get up and let out.
• I don't have to feel guilty if I want to go out for an evening, or have to find a sitter.  But to be honest, since I'm the only single woman left on the planet, I still have to deal with this issue because all of my friends have kids.  Boo.
• When I shop, I don't have to use the forty foot long carts that are made for children to sit in.  I'm a really bad driver when it comes to those carts!
• Yesterday I had to sit in a humid, dirty play area at Chick-Fil-A with my nephew.  I could feel the germs multiplying by the second.  Thankfully, I don't have to do this on a regular basis.
• I can eat cereal for every meal if I want to.  Who cares about nutrition once you hit the "Old Maid" mark?
• I do have to say, though, that the unconditional love and trust that I get from the former baby is pretty awesome, and it's sad that is not a part of my everyday life.

So, it wasn't a stellar day, but I wouldn't trade all the drama for anything.  The former baby is pretty darn awesome.  My sister asked me if, after a day like today, I had changed my mind about someday wanting to be a stay at home mom.

Nope!

However, next week I need to make sure that I have plenty of dark chocolate and a bottle of wine ready (for AFTER he leaves!) in case I have another crazy day!

CNMB Day 3

(Alternate title:  I Know I'm Not Part of the Club)

I am a swimmer.  There is nothing in this world that I love to do more than swim.  There are a few problems with this hobby, however.  First of all, I don't have access to a pool on a regular basis.  Sure, there are local pools.  But have you looked at a community pool?  I mean, really looked?   There are no adults in the pool.  It's full of children.  Children jumping, children fighting, children peeing...but no adults.  I don't want to look like the doof coming to the pool with no child, swimming along in the pool with every other child's urine.  The second problem is that, until recently, I haven't had a kid to drag to the pool.  I do now, but we'll talk more about that in minute.  The final problem is that I don't like being seen in my swimsuit.  At all.  I don't want to wear a mommy swimsuit, but I don't want to wear a bikini, either.  My strategy is that when I swim, I leap into the water as soon as possible, hiding my body from any onlookers.  This works well if you go to the pool with no child, but it does not work well if you are at the ocean.  No one wants to see me run down the beach and then when you finally hit the water, it's like 1 inch deep.

This year, I was so happy.  I finally had an excuse to go to the pool!  Who cares if the former baby likes the water as long as I get to swim??  My joy was short lived, however, upon arrival to the pool.  You see, in case you didn't know, I'm not a mommy.  So I hadn't thought about the logistics of taking a toddler to the pool.  We arrive at the pool and I notice that I am literally the only adult in the water.  All the other moms sit around the edge slathered in oil, reading books, drinking beer (no, really) and in general pay no attention to the kids in the water.  And then here I come, the whitest person in the world.  Usually, I can just leap into the water so that these women don't see me (aside:  when did moms get so hot?!).  However, with the former baby, I can't just jump in.  I have to walk, slowly, across the sidewalk and to the baby pool.

Even this pool has its problems.  You can't hide your body in a baby pool, because it's shallow!  Foiled again!  So not only am I mortified that people can see me in a swim suit, but now I'm blinding the world with my white, white skin.  Then, the former baby wants to go back and forth between the "little cool" and the "big cool," as he calls them.  This requires me to get out of the water.  In front of other people.  As we walk between the pools, I can just imagine what the real mothers are thinking.  In reality, they probably aren't thinking a thing, but I feel like bursting out in my loudest voice "Don't look at my jiggly thighs!  Why do I have a bigger baby gut than you do, when I'm not a mother?  Yes, I know, I look like I'm half albino, ok?  At least I use sunscreen liberally and won't wrinkle like an old suitcase!  When we're 85, I'll look like I'm 80 and you'll look like you're 90!"  Thankfully, I haven't created a scene - yet.

I also can't turn off "teacher mode" when I'm at the pool.  It drives me absolutely crazy how no adults watch their children.  The kids steal from one another constantly.  At this pool, every hour the lifeguards take a 10 minute break and all children have to get out of the pool.  Recently, a family that looked like the Clampetts showed up at the pool.  They came in, found a spot as far away from the pool as possible, opened their cooler of beer, and never looked at their kids.  All of their children jumped in the water with no lifeguard around.  These were little kids!  Were the Clampetts paying attention?  No.  I think maybe they were suffering from lack of oxygen from the tight tight tight swimsuits they were wearing (just because you can, doesn't mean you should).  Shouldn't they notice that no one else was in the water?  Shouldn't they watch their kids since there were no lifeguards?  Pretty soon other kids were slipping into the water and I thought my brain was going to explode.

Since taking over full babysitting duties with the worlds cutest two year old, I've been reminded, repeatedly, that I'm not "in the club."  You know what club I mean.  The "I've Had a Bun in the Oven" club.  I've been taking the former baby to Story Time at the library and to the local pool.  The moment I enter these places, I swear, these women can smell that I'm not a mother.  For real!   They all sit around talking about giving birth and give me weird looks.  I'm not kidding!  Today I heard all kinds of conversations about how dilated they were, how long they pushed, and all about breastfeeding.  I'm pretty sure these women all gave birth in a pool in their bedroom, kept the placenta, planted it under a tree, and they make a pie out of the fruit from that tree each year in honor of their baby.  Their kid is literally the apple of their eye.

Well, guess what? I have never lactated.  I'm closed tight in all the right places.  I can't even get a date at this point.

And, I don't like pie.