Disney or Bust

If you need to get in touch with me this week, sorry, I'm unavailable.  I'm on a plane bound for Disney World!  Yay!

The last time that I went to Disney World was in 2008.  Bailey begged us to take her before she was "too old to enjoy it".  And at the crusty old age of seven, we were a little worried that her best years were behind her, so we decided to go.  

I was 7-months pregnant at the time.     

But it's cool because I'm tough and I can take it.  Besides, this trip will probably barely even kill me.   

Drew's first trip to Disney World.  Think he remembers it?

The first day went great.  

"It's a little warm but that breeze is nice."

"It feels so good to get some exercise." 

"Oh, look!  Bailey is meeting Cinderella!!"

*wiping sentimental tear*   "I'm so glad that we decided to come to Disney World!"

Our bug glasses from Animal Kingdom

I was a little more tired on the second day...  

"What's the temperature again?  90 degrees?! You've got to be kidding me."  

"Brian, will you take Bailey on the next couple of rides and I'll just wait for you here?"  

*tearing up from exhaustion*  "Maybe we could go in a little early today?"

I'm giving that pumpkin a run for its money!

By the third day, it was getting ugly. 

"My back is KILLING ME!  I can't even get out of bed!  How the hell am I supposed to walk around Disney if I can't get out of bed?" 

"It feels like a freaking oven out here!  How do people live in this horrible place?"

"I don't give a crap if Mickey Mouse spoon-feeds me Rocky Road ice cream, I'm not walking all the way to that tent."

*sobbing*  "Why did I come to Disney World pregnant??  WHY was I so stupid?!  WHY... Why?!"

See that fake smile?  It's the same one that you smile right before you start crying from exhaustion.  NOT THAT I KNOW THIS FROM EXPERIENCE OR ANYTHING.

By the fourth day, I rented a Rascal to wheel around the park. 

"This is the best 50 bucks that I've ever spent."

Do you know that there's not one single photograph of me riding that motorized chair around the park?  I must have threatened somebody (ahem, Brian) within an inch of his life if he snapped a pic of me riding that ridiculous thing.   (Sorry, baby.  It was just the hormones talkin'.)

So here's the thing about going to Disney World during your last trimester: It will ruin a pregnancy faster than you can say, "M-I-C...K-E-Y...M-O-U-S-E".

Shortly after returning to Georgia, I started having chest pains.  Then that Disney trip became known as the precursor to cardiologist visits, hospitalizations, heart monitors, medications, bed rest, premature labor and an emergency c-section.

In short, Mickey Mouse can kiss my butt! 

But I'm hoping that Mickey and I can start over this week.  Maybe we can spend some time together, and I don't know, grab a Starbucks or something.

I'm willing to forgive him for making me have too much fun if he's willing to forgive me for drawing all those mustaches and devil horns. 

Sorry, Mickster.

I'm looking forward to a totally-not-pregnant trip to Disney World.   I think we're going to have a blast!  There's nothing better than spending a fun week with my family.

Until I return from the land of Mouse, 
Amanda 

P.S. Any good wishes that you can send to Mickey that he doesn't kick me out of the park on sight would be greatly appreciated!





I'll be hanging out on Facebook while I'm gone.  Do you want to hang out with me?  Really?  Cool!  Have you liked Werdyab Blog on Facebook yet? If not, please click and add.  And let's chat House of Mouse. 




Or, do you prefer Twitter?  I'm trying to get into it, but I have to be honest here, that 140 character limit gets me every time.  Obviously.  But if you're really good at Twitter, I'd love to retweet you.  Pretty please?

Or as I like to call it - "Happy Birthday, Bailey!"

Eleven years and one day ago, a mother-to-be checked into Northside Hospital in Atlanta.

6 months old

For 37 weeks, I had done nothing but complain about acne, puking all day long, shooting up with insulin, watching my ankles swell to a 36-inch waistline, and fighting off pre-term labor.  In short, I sucked at pregnancy.  

So I was pretty happy when my blood pressure was so high that they decided to induce early.  All that crying, pleading and puking on my doctor's shoes hadn't gotten me anywhere.

When I arrived at the hospital, they gave me Cervidil - or as I like to call it - "death by fire crotch".  They also gave me a sleeping pill, which probably would've have worked if my cervix wasn't burning like it was on the SUN.

So I figured that if I couldn't sleep, I might as well get this whole labor thing started.  HEY - THIS IS EASY.  Why does everybody complain about labor?  I've eaten burritos that caused more stomach pain - or as I like to call it - "This is the easy part, you dumbass."

2 years old

By 7 AM, they started my pitocin drip - or as I like to call it - "the Devil's juice".   The contractions got harder, but I was doing great!  Besides, this shouldn't take too much longer....right?

By 4 PM, I had only dilated to 4 centimeters - or as I like to call it - "ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME?!  Can somebody get me a stick of dynamite?  It's time to evict this kid!"

The hospital staff felt sorry for me being so suckish at childbirth and all, so it was epidural time. Yay!  Relief is on the way!

While the anesthesiologist was sticking a very large needle INTO MY SPINE, he decided that this would be a good time to flirt with the nurse.  And I thought to myself, 'Should I say something to him?  Because all this chit-chat is really making me nervous, but....  Nah.  He's a professional.  He can probably do this sort of thing in his sleep.'  About that time, I heard the anesthesiologist say, "Oops" - or as I like to call it - "WTF".

Here's the thing about an epidural that's been put in the wrong place: it numbs the wrong areas.  Everything from the bellybutton up felt dead.  I couldn't lift my arms, my eyes swelled shut and I had to coach myself to breathe in... and breathe out... breathe in...and  breathe out.  However, everything from the bellybutton down was completely in-tact - or as I like to call it - "You'll be hearing from my attorney."

5 years old

So the rest of the labor and delivery had to be done au naturel.  When she was finally born, it wasn't painful.  IT WAS AN OUT OF BODY EXPERIENCE.  I felt like I had been ripped in half.  I remember thinking that the best plastic surgeons in the world wouldn't be able to repair the damage - or as I like to call it - "Uhmmm, yes, ma'am.  Who do I talk to about joining the convent?"

Unfortunately, my OB-GYN didn't get the memo about the botched epidural.  Thinking that I was numb, she starting stitching me up.  OUCH! - or as I like to call it - "Is there an award for using that many cuss words in one sentence?"

By the time we got into a hospital room, it was about 3 AM and I finally fell asleep.  But at 6 o'clock, a nurse woke me up and said, "Mama, she's ready to eat" - or as I like to call it - "I'll pay you ONE MILLION DOLLARS if you let me sleep another hour."

8 years old

I had just given Bailey a bottle when my Mom said in her sweet, motherly tone, "And, of course, you'll set the baby on your shoulder and gently pat her back to burp her."  And I said, "Really?  You mean I actually have to do that?  I thought they just did that in the movies."  Then Bailey peed all over me because I had put her diaper on backward - or a I like to call it - "Any idiot can have a baby."

Even though I was scared and overwhelmed and obviously clueless, I was so happy.  I held that beautiful, tiny, living, breathing person in my arms and thanked God for choosing me to be her mother.  (And I promised to read a few parenting books, too.)

It was just me and Bailey for so many years, so she will always have a special place in my heart that belongs to only her.

Birthday breakfast date with my 11-year-old

Happy Birthday, Bailey Faith - or as I like to call it - "Happy Birthday to the most precious girl in the world!"

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How to scare the crap out of your husband

Are you the sentimental type?  I am.  I would save every tissue that my kids ever blew their noses in if I could get away with it.  (Dumb health code.)

But I'm also a neat freak.  I want every closet, cabinet and square-inch of my house to be tidy.

So, uhmm, this presents a problem.  Because have you ever seen that episode of Hoarders when the house was completely spotless?  No?  Me neither.

It's like a serial killer who faints at the sight of blood.  Or a Victoria Secret model who loves an all-you-can-eat buffet.  Or a Mom who wants to go to the bathroom and pee ALL BY HERSELF.  They just don't go together.

Yesterday, I did my weekly organizing of the storage areas.

And you guys are still hanging out by the pool?  Pfft.  You don't know what fun is until you've organized your old photo albums by year, color and dimension!

That's when I came across my positive pregnancy tests.  Of course I saved them.  You didn't?

The tests from Bailey are almost 12 years old now.  I smiled remembering when a skinny, 25-year-old me took a pregnancy test before going out dancing with my girlfriends.  I was so sure that it would be negative that I didn't even look at the result for a half-hour.

Huh?  HOW DID THIS HAPPEN? (Well, you know what I mean.)

So I decided to read the directions.  Maybe two pink lines didn't mean that I was pregnant after all?

The instructions said that I would get the most accurate reading first thing in the morning.  Whew!  All I have to do is take another test tomorrow and it will be "accurate" and "negative".

Can you say "young" and "stupid"?  

So I took another test the next morning.  And it wasn't just positive; it was SUPER POSITIVE.  The two pink lines were so bright that I had to wear sunglasses to protect my eyes from the blinding glare.

I completely freaked out!  I was so scared that I wouldn't be a good mother.

Last night, I laughed holding that test in my hand because being a good mother came so naturally to me.  I couldn't believe that I was ever worried about it.  Even for a minute.

Then I looked at Drew's positive pregnancy test.  I smiled remembering when Brian and I decided to try and have a baby.

By the way, don't you hate it when people tell you that they're "trying to have a baby"?  TMI, y'all.  Just pour yourselves a glass of wine and turn on the "bow chicka bow wow" music right in front of me, why don'tcha?

So, uhmmm, we had been trying (ahem) to have a baby.  On Easter morning, I took a test and it was positive.  Thanks, Easter Bunny!

Even "trying" for a baby, I still completely freaked out!  How will I ever love another child as much as I love Bailey?

Last night, I laughed holding that test in my hand because my heart didn't divide like I thought it would.  Instead, it multiplied so that I could love both my children with my whole heart.  I couldn't believe that I was ever worried about it.  Even for a minute.

Needless to say, this walk down memory lane lasted longer than a Sex and the City marathon on Lifetime.

I NEEDED TO FIND A BETTER PLACE TO KEEP THESE TESTS.  But it was getting late.  And I was tired.  And that American Idol wasn't going to watch itself, you know.

So I put them in the bathroom drawer for safekeeping until the next day.  But the next day happened to include my husband's early morning search for some Q-Tips.

(You see where this is going, don't you?)

When Brian opened the drawer, this is what was in there....

But this is what he saw....

Amanda, wake up.  Is everything okay?
Well, everything was fine WHEN I WAS SLEEPING.  What's going on?
I was just making sure that everything was okay.  Is there anything that you want to tell me?
Can't think of anything.
Nothing?  Because, you know, whatever it is, it will be fine.

You can probably fill in the blanks on the rest of that conversation.

If the reality show Punk'd is reading this post, I'VE GOT THE PERFECT PRANK FOR YOU.  I'm talking about the stuff that April Fools Day legends are made of.

So if you ever want to scare the crap out of your husband, just let me know and I'll totally let you borrow my positive pregnancy tests.  IF THE PRICE IS RIGHT.

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The Reveal Party

I started my college career at a small, private Christian school.  I was a good kid, like, every parent's dream when I was in high school.  I wanted to find a place to nurture that, so I decided to go to a Christian college.

That was a mistake.

Parents, let me tell you about the courses that your kids will take at a Christian college.  First, there's Keg Stands 101, then there's Hunch Punch 105, and let's not forget the all-important Sneaking Into A Boy's Dorm Room At 2 a.m. 102.  NOT THAT I EVER TOOK ANY OF THOSE COURSES OR ANYTHING.

This is a dramatic reenactment.  The people displayed in this cartoon are just actors and not actual students.
P.S. I believe that even stick figures deserve to wear nice shoes.

Parents think that they're helping their kids by sending them to a Christian school, but instead, they're throwing them into a mosh pit full of wild PKs (that's "Preacher's Kids" for all of you who didn't go to a Christian college).  And you know what happens to PKs when they're away from their parents, right?   Right.  You're much safer sending your kids to a "party school" like the University of Georgia and encouraging them to join a Bible Study.

My best friend Laura was raised by Christian college ROYALTY.  Her grandfather was the former President of the college and was credited with building that school from the ground up.  That made Laura a PK Princess.

After failing Keg Stands 101 (how do you keep beer from coming out your nose?) and reverting back to my former high school goodness, I was asked to be a Student Leader - giving new students tours of the campus, answering questions, being a role model - yada, yada.

During a summer orientation, the college President asked me to pay special attention to one new student - the PK Princess - and help her fit in and make friends.

Great.  A blind date. I hate being set-up.  I'm sure this girl will be a total dweeb. (By the way, when I'm writing about 1994, I feel that it's important to adjust my insults accordingly.)

But guess what?  That blind date turned out to be just like a Nicolas Sparks novel!  After five minutes, we were all like, "If you're a bird, then I'm a bird."

Since then, we've shared a lot together.  Life has changed over the years and life has changed us over the years - and I'd say, for the better.

At first, it was Spring Break in Panama City and St. Patrick's Day in Savannah.  Then it was graduations and careers.  Then marriage showers, baby showers, divorces, remarriages, and more children.  And I wouldn't trade one minute of the ups and downs.

Well, except for the jello shots in Savannah.  I'd gladly give those back.  

And now she's having a baby!

I love other people's babies, don't you?  You get to buy them cute stuff, hold them, give them back to their parents, and then go home to sleep for eight loooooooooong uninterrupted hours.

Last night, Laura had a Gender Reveal Party to reveal the gender of her baby to family and friends.  Everybody wore pink or blue to cast their vote.

Am I really that pale?  GAH. I look just like one of those Twilight kids.
I hope that I have glitter skin when I walk in the sun... if I can ever find it. 

Here are a couple of statistics: 95% of party attendees wore blue, but I wore pink, and I'm wrong 100% of the time.

Have you figured it out yet?  IT'S A BOY!

They told us the gender by cutting into a pregnant belly (NOT A REAL ONE).  The color of the cake was the color of the baby.  Well... the baby won't actually be blue.  You know what I mean.  Although, PK Prince Smurf does have a nice ring to it... *hint, hint*

Being wrong never felt so good!

By the way, do you see those little blue shoes to the left of the cake?  That was my gift.  I had pink sandals in my purse, too, so either way, I was going to look like I knew it all along!  Cheat to win, people.  Cheat to win.

Here is what was left of the cake.  I don't know much about Reveal Party traditions...
Are you supposed to freeze the left boob and then eat it on the baby's first birthday?   

Congratulations, Laura!  I am so happy for you and I can't wait to spoil your little Prince!

Did you remember to vote today?  One click = One vote.  That's all you have to do.  Just click. 
Vote for me and I'll guess your baby's gender wrong, too.
  

My Life: Three Years Ago

Today is my son's 3rd Birthday!  Happy Birthday, Drew!

Check out this 3 year old STUD!

On a rainy, Friday night in November, 2008,  Drew joined the world - filling our hearts with love and making our family complete.  We are so proud to call him ours!

I had a really easy pregnancy with Drew:  working full-time, hitting the elliptical four days a week, and carting Bailey to all her practices and lessons.

Bailey really wanted to go to Walt Disney World for Fall Break that year.  We had never taken her and now she was seven years old - the perfect age for Disney!  BUT... I was pregnant.  Oops.  I guess I should have planned that out better.

But, haven't you heard?  I'm Superwoman.  So we flew down to Orlando for a week in September.

Drew's first trip to Disney World.  Think he will remember it?

The first day went great!  

"It's a little warm but that breeze is nice."

"It feels so good to get some exercise." 

"Oh, look!  Bailey is meeting Cinderella!!"

*wiping sentimental tear*   "I'm so glad that we decided to come to Disney World!"

I was a little more tired on the second day...  

"Honey, what's the temperature?  90 degrees?! You've got to be kidding me."  

"Brian, will you take Bailey on the next couple of rides and I'll just wait for you here?"  

*tearing up from exhaustion*  "Maybe we could go in a little early today?"

By the third day, it was getting ugly. 

"My back is KILLING ME!  I can't even get out of bed!  How am I supposed to walk for 11 hours if I can't even get out of bed?" 

"It feels like a freaking oven out here!  How do people live in this God forsaken place?!"

"I don't give a crap if Mickey Mouse spoon-feeds me Rocky Road ice cream, I'm not walking all the way to that tent!"

*sobbing*  "Why did I come to Disney World when I was pregnant??  WHY was I so stupid?!  WHY?!"

By the fourth day, I rented a Rascal to wheel around the park.

"This is the best fifty bucks that I have ever spent."  

This is on the first day.... when I could still smile. 

So here's the thing about going to Walt Disney World during the last trimester of your pregnancy: It can take a pregnancy from good to bad faster than you can say, "M-I-C... K-E-Y... M-O-U-S-E".

Shortly after returning to Georgia, I started having mild chest pains.  Normal pregnancy stuff, right?  Then, over time, the pain grew more intense.  So I called my OB's office and informed them (careful not to sound like a crazy pregnant lady), and the nurse advised me to have a physician check it out... just to be safe.

Cool.

I went to an Urgent Care facility down the street from my office.  The doctor came in to examine me.  He listened carefully to my heart.  He looked me in the eye, and he said, "Let's do an EKG."

Cool.

Thirty seconds after the EKG, he came back in the examination room and said, "Mrs. Hohenbery, you are dangerously close to having a heart attack.  We are going to call the hospital and have a cardiologist meet you."

Huh?  I wasn't counting on that.

A heart attack?  See - that's impossible.  I'm a healthy 34 year old pregnant woman.  I mean, I just walked 50 miles at Disney Wor.....  OHHHHH, I just walked 50 miles at Disney World....  Gotcha.

Mail Baby Announcements to: 

Mom and Dad
Brian's Parents
Walt Disney

That also marked the day that I had to say goodbye to my awesome, perfect pregnancy. Now I was stuck on bedrest with heart monitors and daily medication.  Pfft.

My OB scheduled me for a Cesarean delivery on November 26th - well before my December 3rd due date.
I was a little nervous about having surgery, but it couldn't be worse than the natural childbirth that I had with Bailey, right?  (And.... it wasn't.)

I told Brian that I was disappointed about scheduling the delivery, though.  It took all the excitement out of calling him at work and telling him that I was in labor.

Drew must have been listening because he gave me my wish.  I went into labor on the morning of November 7th.

Arriving to Northside Hospital. 

And although it was exciting, we were very concerned about the health of our baby boy.  It was almost a month early!

I arrived to Northside Hospital and they started the epidural.  I had labored long enough and my heart was already acting goofy.  Stupid, dumb heart.

But guess what happens when you take a borderline heart attack and you add a dramatic drop in blood pressure from the epidural?  Medical disaster.  I'm talking Grey's Anatomy season finale stuff.

I was aware that every monitor and alarm from here to there was going off in my hospital room, but was I unable to speak.  It was like a real life horror movie - where the evil monster is chasing you but you can't scream.  I think my eyes told quite a story, though.  Like, HELLOOOO?!  AM I THE ONLY ONE WHO HEARS THOSE ALARMS?!  MOVE, PEOPLE, MOVE!

The surgical team ran down the hallway as they pushed my bed toward the operating room.  Brian was chasing after us, throwing scrubs on over his clothes.    

By the time Brian walked into the room and kissed me, the doctor said, "Happy Birthday, Drew!"  And there he was!  A healthy 6 pound 13 ounce little mound of Hohenbery cuteness!

A quick glimpse of Andrew Liam before we went our separate ways.

As a precaution, they took Drew to the NICU, but he was doing great.  He took almost two ounces of formula right after his first bath.  I'm surprised he didn't ask for a Big Mac and fries.

Drew's first bath that I missed.  But I'm not bitter.  Much. 

Me, on the other hand, I got carted off to the cardiac unit - the place for real patients with real medical problems.  I didn't get to go to the maternity ward with all the other happy new parents doping over their sweet newborns.

This is me, my sisters and my daughter, Bailey, after Drew's birth.  Notice who is missing?  Yep.  The star of the show - Drew!  Almost heart attacks suck. 

The next day, they released me from the cardiac unit, and I was able to hold my son for the first time.  What an amazing moment that was!

This is what my dreams always looked like...

 Man, I can't wait to hold this story over Drew's head some day.  As in,

"Mom, can I stay out past curfew tonight?"  

"Drew, do you know EVERYTHING that I went through to get you here?!?"

Happy Birthday to my handsome, brown-eyed boy!  I love you more today than I did yesterday and I will love you even more tomorrow. 

What To Expect When You're Expecting

Cameron Diaz was recently in Atlanta filming her new movie based on the best selling book What To Expect When You're Expecting.

Here is a photo of her on the streets of Midtown:

Pfft. This movie should be called Good Luck, Honey, Because Pigs Will Fly Before You Look This Good When You're Expecting

See her 5'9" 115 pound body?  See her muscular arms and toned legs?  See her perfect blonde highlights and clear skin?

You won't look anything like this.

It's a bold faced lie, people!  A total farce.  A cultural fallacy designed to make normal women with normal pregnancies feel like failures.  Emotionally fragile, pudgy, swollen, little mounds of failure.

Here is another view:

Ladies, when your husband tells you that you don't look pregnant from behind, that is another lie (but one that he should proudly tell you).  Because your butt will not look like Cameron's butt.  And Lord help us if you decide to wear those shorts anyway.

It is time to break through Hollywood's misrepresentations of pregnancy and tell you what to really expect when you're expecting:

Please allow me to describe your general state: Imagine that you drank one, two or fifteen more than you should have last night.  Then you woke up at 6 a.m. to go deep sea fishing but the waves were really rough.  You wonder if eating something might help you feel better, so you bite into a juicy burger - only to discover that the meat was grossly infected with E Coli. 

You will develop a superhuman sense of smell, so if someone is frying venison eight miles away, you are going to alert everyone around you.  And not in the good way.

Your face or your back or your chest or all three will break out.  And suddenly, you will envy a teenage girl's complexion. 

You know that "glow" that everybody talks about?  It's actually just the beads of sweat that appear across your forehead when you puke or walk up stairs. 

You will drink so much water that you'll feel just like a camel except you will store water in one bump instead of two.  

Your entire body will swell: your face, your hands, and especially your feet.  It will look like all your little piggies went to the market and then stopped by Golden Coral on their way home.

Name a gross medical ailment and you will probably experience it during pregnancy.  Then you will throw TMI rules out the window and tell a total stranger exactly why you're buying Preparation H. 

You are going to get fat.  Some get fatter than others, but everybody gets a little fat.  Nobody looks like Cameron Diaz wearing a baby bump strap-on when they are nine months pregnant.  And if you do, don't talk to me.  I hate you already.

You know those big boobs that you have always wanted?  They will be here soon enough, but it won't be nearly as glamorous as you thought it would be.  So relish those A cups and sleep on your stomach every single night.

You will become very emotional.  And I'm not talking emotional like you will cry watching a Kodak commercial.  I'm talking emotional like, "WHO ATE THE LAST FUDGE ROUND?!?  YOU... MUST... DIE!"

Every modest bone in your body will be broken, crushed and swept up like dust off a hardwood floor.  By the time you deliver, your legs will be in stirrups, and if the Pope walks in the room, you will not even flinch.     

The upside is that once you go through all this, you can be in The Mom Club.  A secret society of women who have given birth.  We won't tell you about all the horrors that await you until after you are already pregnant and then WOW! at the stories.

By then we figure it's too late for you to back out.  And, it's really fun watching Moms-to-be completely panic about [insert terrifying experience here] while trying to convince you that they knew it was a possibility all along.