Fertile People Problems

Mother Mary Fertility Ju Ju

My blog has been taken over by the infertility/pregnancy posts. Sometimes I miss my random musings but with my hand swelling and numbness, I don't often feel capable of any additional posts. But I've been thinking on this one quite a bit over the months, especially after reading so many blogs and social media posts about pregnancy.

I think most of us have seen those posts, "Rich people problems," or "White people problems." I decided to write a new one, "Fertile people problems," just for fun!

These "problems" are based on some observations I have made in my own fertility journey. This is not meant to be judgmental or insensitive to what other people find to be personal difficulties, but to offer another perspective as an infertile person looking in on problems I will probably never face myself. I would love to hear more if anyone has any!

So without further delay--and in no particular order,

Fertile People Problems:

1. Agonizing over the decision of when to have a baby -- trying to deliver the day between graduation and moving, or after your next marathon but before your sister's wedding, etc. This is a big life decision that deserves a lot of thought and hopefully preparation. Before I was aware of my infertility I also worried about timing. But now I wish I had the luxury of thinking I had any control over that, especially down to the season or the month or even the week! I really am amazed at how some people can "plan" it so specifically.

2. "I'm upset I'm over age 30 (or other age) and still have more kids to have" -- It is weird how many of my friends are done having children, have 5 or more children, or have teenagers by now. I'm getting closer to the "advanced maternal age" number (35) and we still don't have any kids yet.

3. Feeling like a botched birth plan has scarred you for life -- I am surprised how often I hear this. Evidently there are women who have lasting trauma, guilt, anger, or other overwhelming negative feelings over their birth plan not going how they had hoped. They often feel they were wrongly coerce or forced into an epidural or even a c-section. After years of infertility and very difficult interventions I am so excited to have a baby any way I can. Rip it out my nose if you have to! I do have a few preferences but also understand that while laboring in a warm tub sounds great, having twins I will be required by my particular doctor to have an epidural and deliver in an operating room with a high likelihood for c-section. Is this my ideal? Probably not, but I am grateful I have the opportunity to have any kind of delivery and that I have a team of professionals who will be there to provide whatever care will safely bring my babies and me through this experience. I can understand the disappointment of things not going as expected but I feel really sad that so many women are living life carrying such a burden with them about this!

4. "I don't like taking medications during pregnancy" -- What a luxury! I don't either, but unfortunately during my time before and during pregnancy I think I have about owned my own personal pharmacy. I should have at least bought some stock! When you do IVF you have thousands of dollars in medications to take just to stay pregnant. So it is a little hard for me to understand why you wont take a single pill to fight off a yeast infection or a short round of antibiotics to treat a UTI that could put you into pre-term labor. Or why you may judge my friends who take anti-nausea medications so they don't die from dehydration and lack of nourishment during their whole 9 months of horrible morning sickness.

5. Accidentally getting pregnant -- Obviously this is a big deal and not something to joke about. But after years of infertility, multiple procedures, hundreds of needle sticks and pills, and a doctor (not my doctor husband) impregnating me, I really cannot wrap my head around this one. This actually happens to people? my little brain asks in disbelief. Yes, yes it does! And to people I know. Multiple people.

6. "I'm wondering if I should reverse my tubal ligation to have another baby"-- This was a real question I saw on Facebook. Wow, just wow. I can't imagine being so fertile that you had to pay to become infertile and then pay to undo it and expect to get pregnant.

7. "I feel cheated out of my pregnancy/newborn stage/babies because I had twins this time" -- Knowing full well this may be my only time to be pregnant (even if I'd like more children), I am so grateful I get two babies! I can imagine there are things that would be easier, nicer, more ideal with just one baby but I have two miracle babies on the way. I will never feel cheated when it comes to these babies, because I think I am the one who cheated the system. Thank you science and God who brought me these babies when my body couldn't do it on its own.

8. "I only got to have 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, etc babies before my doctor rudely told me I could have no more -- should I listen to him or just go ahead?" -- I am really baffled by family planning. I can't imagine being able to come up with the number of kids I would want to have and be able to stick to it. I have had to totally change my mindset when it comes to how many kids we will have and realize that I will get the number of kids God will allow. I don't feel I have any control over this at all.

If nothing else, I think my experience with infertility takes a lot of the pressure off. And has taken away the eight problems listed above from my life. Hooray for less stress, because we all know that infertile people just need to relax!

The Differential Diagnosis Always Includes Pregnancy

Here's another one from my past...I'm pretty far past this point but it is interesting to see how my feelings have evolved over time. I thought I would share for those of you who have also felt puzzled by this awkward question.
XOXO...Erin

* * *



I can't REALLY blame you for asking, we look like we'd be great parents, right?

Have I posted about this already? I honestly can't remember, but it keeps coming up, especially in light of my recent bout of illness.

Can people please stop asking if I am pregnant? 

I think I got asked 20 different times the past week, and each time the answer was no. 

I don't think I will ever be at risk of being on one of those Lifetime Original Series type shows, I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant. I pay pretty close attention to my body. I understand that some of the symptoms of early pregnancy are fatigue, nausea, vomiting. But I also understand that those are some of the symptoms of residency, influenza, food poisoning, and cancer. Just because I am hungry or sick or tired or cranky doesn't mean that I am pregnant. And I don't like thinking I am not allowed to feel much of anything without falling under suspicion.

People are probably just trying to helpfully remind me of this option. "Have your realized that maybe pregnancy could be in the differential for how you are feeling?" (For those of you not in the medical field, a "differential," or "differential diagnosis" is a list that includes the top most likely medical problems that are associated with the present signs and symptoms.)

Or maybe they hope to be one of the first to make the baby diagnosis? "Yes, I knew it!" 

Or maybe they are just being hopeful as they must clearly recognize what amazingly beautiful offspring I will have considering my good looking husband. "I hope you are because I can't wait to see your babies!"

Whatever the reason, it makes me feel a little embarassed. Or annoyed. (No, I don't think I'm pregnant unless pregnancy includes fevers, chills, sore throat, and diarrhea, as well.) And it makes me unsure what to say because it almost inevitably is followed by, 

"Are you sure?"

Which really baffles me. I'm not sure what I am supposed to say here. A simple, "No, I'm not pregnant," doesn't seem to be enough.

Should I say, "Actually, it has been xyz since my last cycle, which would suggest that no, I am not?" Or would more information on my private life with my husband be helpful? Can I bring up my calendar app on my phone or should I take a pregnancy test? 

Can any woman truly know with certainty at any moment that she is 100% sure she isn't carrying a bun in the oven (with a few exceptions)? This is why they do pregnancy tests on all women ages 11-50ish before surgery at our hospital. (And even then, pregnancy tests have to be correctly timed.)

Actually, I am glad I wrote this post because I now know exactly what to say,

"Are YOU? You know many women don't have any symptoms of early pregnancy."

And now we are back to the Lifetime network. (You Didn't Know You Were Pregnant)

When I am pregnant, I anticipate I will be asking myself those same questions without prompting from you. And when the time is right, I would appreciate if you would let me inform you in the way and time that I prefer. Until then, I hope to not have to share my fertility status with any acquaintance I meet who happens to notice I may not be feeing or looking so well. 

And finally, despite how awesome you think it would be for me to have a baby right now, I'm the one that has to make it work. 

PSA: Dr. Sheffield’s 8 simple steps for avoiding a mandibular fracture

I usually post more trivial things on my blog, but every so often, I feel it my duty as a health care provider to provide some helpful information to the general public. I’ve been seeing a lot of mandibular fractures lately, so thought I could share some ways to avoid a broken jaw. This information is gathered from my experiences after almost four years of residency and seeing hundreds of broken faces.

1. Be a woman. Testosterone is hazardous to the integrity of your jaws.

2. Don’t drink, stay out past midnight, or go to bars. If you can avoid one, two, or even better, all three of these situations, your odds of fracture go down to almost 0%. Some say, “The Holy Ghost goes to bed at midnight.” Well, so does the Guardian Angel of Faces.

3. If you find you must drink alcohol, you got stuck out too late, or in a bar, make sure you are very involved in other people’s lives/business. People who are “minding their own business” tend to get “sucker punched” almost uniformly. But, don’t be too friendly and offer another man a drink. For some reason they don’t like free beer from a friendly guy and you may end up with a mal-occlusion (bad bite).

4. Brush your teeth. People who have no teeth, who need to have no teeth and haven’t got around to extractions yet, or will one day likely have no teeth seem to break their jaws more often than their toothed peers.

5. Beware of people in steel-toed boots. They are sure to stomp you. People in normal-toed boots don’t seem compelled to do this like their steel-toed counterparts.

6. Be especially vigilant around roving groups of men. A jaw fracture rarely occurs in a fair fight. If you find yourself outnumbered, make sure you aren’t minding your own business because you are sure to be jumped, sucker punched, and likely stomped (and yes, by steel-toed boots).

7. Never let your friends roll you in a carpet. And if you happen to be a college freshman and this simply cannot be avoided, don’t let them stand you up vertically. Keep lying down to avoid breaking your inevitable fall with your chin.

8. If you are a nice/kind/sweet person who has managed to avoid all of the dangers listed above, you might consider keeping your distance from horses. They like to kick or head-butt nice people, often girls, who normally wouldn’t break their jaws and it seems that jaws and teeth are their favorite targets.

It is possible to break your jaw in other ways, but if you can follow these few simple suggestions odds are your face will remain relatively intact!

He’s back!

I’m not sure if I ever made public a death in our family. Some of my loyal, long term readers may remember him from previous posts.

Introduction

Gnome

Initially he was just like any other gnome. He just sat there in the dirt. Until one day a woman at work took a particular interest in him. She made the mistake of thinking he was a robot and eventually asked a friend if he was a “mormon shrine.” We got quite the kick out of that. Pretty soon he started to develop quite the personality (as we can see in the post above) and popular among friends at work. It wasn’t uncommon for us to come home to find him ready to celebrate the next holiday.

Sadly, sometime this year he was broke to pieces after falling to an untimely death. We felt it was unlikely a suicidal incident and more an unfortunate accident. We like to think of it as an “act of God.” Really, gnomes should never be at the height he was enjoying when a burst of wind came through. There were some rumors that it was the work of an Iowa State Catholic (there was some early confusion about him being a Mormon icon), but these rumors were never confirmed. Unfortunately, humpty dumpty could not be put back together again and too sad to put him to rest, he sat in a pile on the porch. We had to celebrate Labor Day, Halloween, and even Thanksgiving without him this year.

In reflection, it is interesting to note that I never thought I would adopt a gnome. In fact, I felt they were rather silly. However, he had really grown on us and we were sad to see him gone. I guess we weren’t the only ones…

Looks like he was re-incarnated and back to his old, jolly antics.

A Christmas miracle! Coming out our door we noticed a familiar face. He looks a little different (I guess the stress of resurrection really put the white in his beard) but we recognized him right away with for his holiday cheer.

 

I’m excited to see what he does next. He truly seems to have a “life of his own.”

pregnancy mistakes

Evidently my blog made bigger waves than I expected. Abe said he had an attending ask if I was really pregnant. And nope, still not.

 

Being confused for a pregnant woman is one of the most depressing and frustrating offenses that can be made against a woman. This time I wont be upset as I seemed to have brought it upon myself, but a food baby confused with a real baby is downright humiliating. I did have a roommate in college and a boyfriend in college agree I had a “funny tummy” (thank you very much for that complex which I am still struggling with 11 years later) but there is only one time I can think of where I was confused for a pregnant woman:

We were at a conference and an old dental school professor was introducing me to another woman:

“Isn’t this lovely, two expectant mothers! Wow, that really is great.”

“Oh you are pregnant? Congratulations…Um, wait, who did you say is pregnant?”

“Yeah, it is really wonderful. Both of you having babies, when are you due? She’s due in X.”

“What, you think I’m pregnant, too? That’s news to me!”

Luckily he followed (perhaps strategically with), “Oh, I had heard you were. I thought for sure it was you. It’s not? But I heard you were. I guess I am mistaken.”

He evidently had me confused with another newly expecting woman he had heard about through the grapevine. And it was hard to convince him that I actually wasn’t pregnant. He was so pleased for me (I could see the genuine happiness in his eyes) he didn’t hardly hear my clarifications that I wasn’t pregnant.

I’m lucky he was just remembering wrong instead of me looking with child (isn’t that a strange phrase? kinda gives me the creepers!). Hopefully I can continue to prevent further incidences as I get older (and a little chubbier).

A little clarification

It appears there has been some confusion about exactly who and how many Jackson twins are currently pregnant. For those of you reading between the lines, I’m sorry to disappoint you but there is only one twin with a bun-in-the-oven. If you are still wondering, I can say, it isn’t me!

Sorry to disappoint, especially those thinking, “It’s about time!” For those of you thinking, “How will she make THAT work?” I’m wondering the same thing. Let me know if you have ideas or want to be my free full time nanny. Of course you’d have to be on call 24 hours a day, at least some months, so let me know.

I can’t say I blame you if you were confused. I suspected people may make assumptions. I am sorry I didn’t designate my photo as a “sympathetic bloating” and not the real deal. I didn’t purposefully try to deceive but I am convinced I can make myself look pregnant with how far I can push out my belly. I think my mom agrees (as she took the picture) and so does my husband (which he doesn’t seem to like).

Here is photographic evidence from the same day that I’m not as pregnant as I looked before (hopefully I don’t look pregnant at all!) and Amber trying to be sympathetically un-pregnant.

And photographic evidence that I have at least a 50% chance of having an adorable little duck of my own when I finally do make this milestone:

Do you see a resemblance? She is genetically equivalent to one of my own. It leaves Abe as the variable factor in the equation.

Hope Abe can pull his (genetic) weight!

And thanks for all of the congratulations. I will mentally store them away until they are really merited.

Baby names

 

First grade: that’s when I found out I was born with half a heart and half a brain (sounds like I should be part of the Wizard of Oz!).

Luckily for me, I had a very smart friend, Brita, who filled my sister Amber and I in on this fact. Up to that point we felt like we were pretty normal, but she was happy to point that as twins we did indeed share all of our internal organs, including our heart and brain.

I wasn’t happy to hear this: I think I cried a bit and at the very least did what any sane first grader would do and tattled on her to the teacher. I’ve since put it out of my mind but occasionally I wonder if maybe she was right. Like when we show up at family events wearing almost the same outfit (we live over a thousand miles away from each other). Or the fact that we almost always order the same thing at a restaurant even when sitting at opposite ends of the table. Or having the same color scheme and design ideas for Christmas trees.

My sister is currently pregnant with her second child. I’m guessing that her raging hormones and difficulty sleeping with her pregnant belly was responsible for another on of my strange dreams the other night. In case you are confused, when you share the same brain it makes ESP that much easier to channel. Never thought about it before, right? That’s why twins can read each other’s minds, feel each other’s pain, and say the same thing at the same time.

So back to my dream. I was out and about and was informed that I had just had a baby. I was surprised as I didn’t realize I had been pregnant and did not remember going through labor or anything about the baby. I remember saying, “Shouldn’t I at least be a little sore after that?”

I was told that Abe was home with the baby and that he had named him “Cameron Hapcock.” It’s a risk putting the actual name on here as you may be tempted to use it for your next child. I figure it was an inspired name as I’ve never heard of the name “Hapcock” before, let alone in this combination. It’s reminds me of the story of John from the Bible, “His name will be John!” Everyone was wondering, “Where’d that come from?”

Anyway, I was angry that Abe would/could name the baby without me. Especially a name like that. I went home to find him asleep with the baby, who was already like a 3 year old with long red curly hair. I didn’t get far enough into the dream to figure out if we kept the name. I guess we could always call him “Happy”—as opposed to other shortened options of the name.

So thanks, sis, for the pregnancy dream and the inspiration for the next name of our child. If you don’t steal it first!

Prison tats 2

We treat a lot of inmates in our clinic. Surprisingly, they are actually some of our best patients but can also provide some of the best stories. Many of these involve ‘prison tats’ (you may remember this reader favorite post http://erinsheffield.blogspot.com/search?q=tattoo).

I was joking around with my orange jump-suited patient of the day a few weeks ago. He, like many of the other prisoners, had many tattoos. One the tattoos included one of some guns and a saying like “shoot ‘em up” although I don’t remember the exact phrase. I asked him about this and was assured it was some kind of tribute to a friend and not a threat, at least to me. I mentioned he seemed to have a lot of tattoos and wondered how one chooses so many things to put on your body permanently. I asked if he had any tats he regretted.

He told me, no, not really, except he had his girlfriend’s name on his chest. This was his least favorite tattoo as he wasn’t sure on the status of their relationship. Evidently the hard-time was taking its toll on the relationship. He mentioned that he had been in jail three times now for marijuana charges. He stated that when he gets out, he should probably move somewhere like Colorado or California, “because they have more lenient laws on marijuana.”

“Or, you could just stop using marijuana,” I suggested.

“Um, I think I’ll just move…”

(I guess now that is a better idea than ever with Colorado’s progressive new law.)

We have the best patients…

Another doctor at work relayed this story to me a few days ago. I just couldn’t resist.

He was evaluating a patient for a routine dental extraction. Before starting the procedure, the patient showed a picture to the doctor.

 

“Look at this, this is what I have to look forward to going home to tonight. What do you think of that? That’s my wife.”

The doctor took a look, “Oh, that’s nice.”

Pulling up a second picture on his phone, “And what do you think of that?” (He holds up a picture of his wife’s bare breasts)

I’m pretty sure my doctor friend was speechless…

 

Classy!

Another example of our wonderful patients. I’m grateful that they keep things interesting.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Honest Abe

Dr. Sheffield is a great doctor. I know he is just getting started but he already has mastered the most important skill of doctoring, something not all docs ever achieve: patient rapport (otherwise called “bedside manner”).

Dr. Sheffield started his residency just a few short months ago. Already, he seems to have a knack for making friends with patients and building their trust. He has received multiple gifts in his few short weeks. He even had a request from a patient for him to see him in the Oto clinic (he hasn’t even worked in the Oto clinic yet but they must remember him from his time as  med student). Somehow I don’t tend to get the same response from my patients (“I HATE dentists!”).

The only problem is, he also is well liked by the nurses. Usually you want the nurses on your side but I think his good looks help the cause a little too much. He has been told by the nurses at the VA that he looks like the romantic lead in the 50 Shades of Grey books. He gets asked his marital status and inquiries about what it means when he is not wearing his wedding ring (sometimes he forgets).

I don’t worry because I know he is an honest and loyal man who will keep his relationship professional.

I’m lucky that the cardiac floor nurses seem to recognize this as well:

Not talking about cocktails…

Vineyard Elementary school in 1988 had an epidemic: little girls were making messes in their pants – on the playground, in the cafeteria, during class. This was becoming a huge problem. What kind of phenomenon could be causing all of these bladder mishaps?

Bloody Mary

picture: search-q=bloody+mary&view=detail&id=C21A8457EDA0C7943800E3C7ABA71A425DA3AFFD&first=1

Are you familiar with Mary and her bloody bloody game?

I wasn’t really either. At least not back then at 5 years old. Here is what I did know: every day when we’d go into the bathroom there would be a large group of older girls in there. They would instruct us to scream and run away. I never understood why I was supposed to scream but I would usually half heartedly do so, with the other little girls in the bathroom. They would yell things like, “Bloody Mary, Blu-de-y Mare-y.” I think sometimes they would even turn the lights off in the bathroom and try to spin you in circles.

I don’t remember ever peeing my pants or even really being afraid (just confused!) but evidently a large number of girls were so terrified they would avoid the bathroom at all costs. Thus the large amounts of yellow body fluid found frequently throughout the school.

As I got older this seemed to be a continuing bathroom theme for elementary school, even after changing schools multiple times. I never tried to summon Mary but it was well into my adult life before I could look in a mirror in the dark without feeling the creeps.

Did anyone else ever go through a Blood Mary phase?

“Poke his eyes out.” Defensive strategies from a protective mother”

My mom is a fighter. I know this because she told me so. I knew as a kid she wasn’t lying when she told me about the fights she won when she was a kid, because she had that look in her eye whenever she told the stories.

I’m sure its the same look in her eye she had when Janice decked her.

Janice…

Janice was the drug addict who decided to punch my mom with a sharpie when we were trying to move into the house her father had just sold to my parents. I remember the pen mark all the way down my mom’s white T-shirt.

Janice was the foolish woman who decided to throw a shoe at my dad. And let/encouraged her daughter to try to run over my little brother and sister.

And she is the woman my mom decked to the floor. Right in front of my little brother. (In self defense, of course. She’s not one to pick a fight, but when you stab her with a permanent marker, she’s going to come back with unequal force.)

Unfortunately I haven’t witnessed any of these events, but she’s tried to pass on the fighting spirit to me. Here is the typical scenario from my childhood:

As we pull up to the grocery store, “Here’s some money. Run in and grab us a loaf of bread.”

As I reach for the door handle, “Wait. What do you do if someone grabs you and holds a gun to you and tells you, ‘Come with me little girl or I’ll shoot you with my gun!’”

I reply (probably with a small eye roll), “I don’t know, Mom, what do I do?”

“You tell them, ‘Then shoot me now where there are witnesses because I know you’ll just drag me into the bushes and do it there anyway.”

This would happen fairly frequently. She would give me advice about where to hit someone if they were trying to grab me, to let myself go heavy like a dead weight if they tried to carry me, and most importantly, to “poke their eyes out.”

I always thought this was a disgusting proposition. “I don’t think I could do that, Mom!”

She would tell me, “I know! That’s why you have to practice in your mind. Use your thumbs to push, push, push, keep pushing to the back of their skull even though it is gross until they pop out of the sockets! You wont be able to do it unless you practice in your mind.”

She always had the look then. The look that said she had practiced this one hundred times in her mind. The look that said she would send any woman (or man) who threatened her family to the floor (or their eyeballs!) in one punch. The look of a fighter.

I always thought it was weird but I do try to think like her sometimes, particularly when I am home alone or walking by myself. “What do I do if someone jumps out of those bushes? or breaks into my house?”

And the first thing I think is, “Poke his eyes out.”

I’m still not sure I could do it (I have some more mental practicing to do—about 98 times more), but I hope to one day be a fighter like my mom; someone who isn’t afraid to stick up for herself or her family. Someone brave enough to defend herself even if it means hurting someone else or doing something scary (or gross). Until then, I’ll continue practicing.

Love you Mom, keep fighting!

my horrible, awful, no good, very bad date

I’m a story teller. I can’t help it. It’s genetic. I come from a family of story tellers. And a large component of that is “the voices.”

That’s right, “voices.” Part of my story telling includes the use of voices and sound effects. This is not something I am aware of in the moment, nor is it something that I can control. And in fact, until college I had no idea I even used any voices. But as I’ve payed attention, I think everyone in my family has some version of the voices. Some may just be better at using them with discression than I.

Unfortunately, I only have a few voices. Three, actually, per my husband. The “dumb guy voice,” the “dumb girl voice,” and one other which I don’t remember what he has labeled it. He gets mad when I use the “dumb guy” voice to voice him or his family members. In their defense, I think that my “dumb guy"” and “normal guy” voices are the same, since, as a woman, I sound pretty dumb trying to be a guy, no matter what I do.

With that introduction, I thought I would share some stories with the caveat that these don’t have the voices or the sound effects. But hopefully you will find them just as enjoyable!

 

So to start off: Everyone loves horrible blind date stories, right? Here is my horrible, awful, no good, very bad date story!

My last semester at BYU I was living at home with my parents. I had just spent thousands of dollars on dental school applications and interviews. I didn’t have much of a social life due to my frequent travels, busy studies, friends getting married, and living in my parent’s basement really didn’t offer up too many social experiences.

Another pre-dental student I had a handful of classes with mentioned something about his roommate and dating. Somehow it got offered up that I should go on a date with this guy. I was pretty open to meeting new people and agreed to go knowing nothing about him although we did meet in the hallway before our date. He was moderately attractive and seemed pretty normal.

We went to Chilis. Things were going fine (for a few minutes) when my date asked if I would like to order a specialty drink or something. Remember, we were BYU students who agreed to follow an honor code which includes that we would not drink alcohol. I was trying to be agreeable and figured he meant something virgin so I agreed and said something like, “Sure, I’ll have a pina colada/daiquiri/margherita.”

At that point, he berated me and sternly informed me that “I will not buy you alcohol!”

I felt a little confused and decided I didn’t need a drink. I’d stick to my safe water which was my original plan anyway.

Our waiter came by and I asked about an item on the menu. He stated that it was spicy “so we can take the peppers out if you’d like.” I told him that I liked it spicy and that I would order the item with the peppers in. My date (who I just met) informed me then that I would not be getting a kiss that night then. At this point I should have realized that I should have asked for additional jalapenos.

Finally, our food arrived. He made us pray over our food in the restaurant. Some people in the BYU community do this and it isn’t unheard of, but has never been my cup of tea. Then he tried eating off my plate. I am a bit of a germ-a-phobe so this was taking a big liberty without even asking.

We finally made it through dinner and he decided to wow me with the local dollar theater. I have nothing against being frugal and I was a frequent patron of the dollar theater, but it just seemed to go with the date. There weren’t very many options that night at the box office and he really wanted to see Anchor Man (not my top choice). If you’ve seen the show, it can be a little raunchy. And going from praying over dinner and being berated about my alcohol habit, it was a bit of an awkward choice. For all I knew, he’d be yelling about my inappropriate movie choice during those moments of innuendo.

When we were sitting in the theater waiting for the movie to start he told me that his family always did back scratches during movies. He asked if I wanted to do it. I feel really awkward and tried to say no but it seemed going along with it was the easiest way (I really had a lot of courage to stick up for myself!). I gave him what I felt like would be a good enough scratch to get him off my back (punny!). Then he told me it was “your turn.” I tried to say “No, that’s okay!” But he insisted. I really didn’t want this creepster touching me at this point but I let him put his hand on my back for a few minutes until I said thank you. He then informed me that it was his turn again. Weird!

Finally I got out of the back scratching routine (not sure how many rounds I suffered through) only to notice his hand placed strategically on his knee closest to mine. I did my best to pretend I didn’t notice. When I didn’t take the bait, he started thrusting his hand up and down at me like, “Here it is! Take my hand.” I finally gathered a little more bravery and said, “No, that’s okay!” I don’t think he liked that very much and must have lost all interest in the date because next thing I know he was asleep.

He slept through the rest of the movie. The lights in the theater came on and a couple sitting on the other side of us were trying to get by. I kept trying to wake him without success. I was honestly wondering if he was pretending to be asleep so I’d have to touch him to rouse him. I was embarrassed but finally he woke up.

Our drive back to my house was very awkward. I can’t remember what we talked about but I feel like he was complaining a bit about the date. I was really worried about what he would try at the doorstep, but thankfully I had had the jalapenos and he kept his word--He didn’t even try to kiss me. (See Abe, you should like that I like my food spicy!)

That was the weirdest and worst date by far of my whole single life. I’m just glad it didn’t turn me off to back scratching (or jalapenos). Maybe just to blind dates.

Next time: “Poke his eyes out!” Defensive strategies from an overprotective mom

Parenting 101

What better way to teach your child responsibility than by having her return your keg?

We spotted this the other day while driving and had to snap a few pictures. We wondered if maybe we misunderstood the situation.

“Hey Abe look, do you think that man is really having 7 year old return his keg?”

But as you can see, they are clearly going into “Liquor Downtown.”

“Yes, yes he is.”

You have to teach kids how to work from an early age. And I guess in the meantime they learn something about how to party, too.

*Two-fer* (spelling on a fake word anyone?)

My husband is a Japanese Celebrity

Remember my last post…(of course you do since it was so unforgettable!)? I promised to give some follow up on Abe’ Japanese stalker.

Maybe stalker is a little harsh. Maybe admirer would be a better word choice. But as a wife this seemed a little strange. This is my interpretation at least…

 

Abe was in a store at the airport after checking in for his flight home. He was greeted by a cute Japanese woman in an airline uniform. “Are you Mr. Abraham?”

Abe said yes, thinking maybe they were asking him to go to the gate early since he’d been selected for a pre-board screening.

“Do you remember me?” Abe said he was puzzled, wondering if maybe he knew her from before when he lived in Japan. And then he realized, no.

“Yes, you checked me in when we arrived at the airport.”

She confirmed this, then asked for his picture, if she could add him as a facebook friend and then gave his brother her card to give to Abe.

I’m not sure her motives but as a jealous wife it seemed a little stalkerish to me.

 

 

And here is where I admit I know a little about stalking myself. Not only have I seen a large number of crime dramas on TV (where stalking is a hot topic), but I was also a desperate teenage girl once with stalker tendencies. (Hopefully I’m not the only!) Luckily, I was able to use these skills to good use by using the wonders of Facebook and its total lack of privacy to find this picture.

I feel a little crooked posting this but I think when she added Abe as a friend I got permission to do some stalking myself. And I think she looks really sweet and nice. So maybe she isn’t a stalker, after all.

And I can’t blame her for wanting to be friends with Abe. It seems most people do.

But I may continue to do a little stalking myself, just to be sure…

Konnichiwa

Abe went to Japan with his brothers for a graduation trip. I had to work. I was very jealous of some of the cool things they got to experience in Japan…

Japanese temples

 

Japanese cartoon characters

Japanese food

Bullet trains

Feeling like celebrities (being asked for autographs and to take pictures with strangers)

     

Real Japanese Futons (they really do sleep on the floor)

Japanese baseball fans (Hiroshima Carp)

But there were a few things I wasn’t quite so sure about…

I might get lost looking for the bathroom (and this makes me feel a little bad as a woman—do we really look like that?)

 

(Or wish I had)

Abe’s Japanese stalker

Raw horse meat (can’t knock it until you try it, I guess though)

    

Tsunami devastation

Public baths (glad it was men only and that Abe’s stalker hadn’t found him yet)

Japanese dessert

But mostly just this…

 

I’m glad he’s home, I was so glad to say Konnichiwa after 10 longs days without him.