I had to share this gem since I’ve never seen a “Hey, girl…” meme that’s mental health themed before.
You can lie on my couch any time, Mr. Gosling.
I had to share this gem since I’ve never seen a “Hey, girl…” meme that’s mental health themed before.
You can lie on my couch any time, Mr. Gosling.
On this day last year, I was induced to give birth to my first child.
I can’t believe it’s been an entire year…it went by super fast. As I usually do, I’ve been looking back on my experiences a year ago and have been having all the feelings.
I plan to eventually have another kid, and that makes me think of what I might like to do differently with the second labor and delivery. And even as I write that previous sentence, I realize how pointless it would be to count on my wishes coming true, because for all I know, my second labor will be totally different because that’s how the universe works.
But, for the hell of it, here are some things I’d do differently, followed by some things I did that were totally right for me.
Things I’d do differently whilst expelling a baby from my body
We have Kaiser Oregon insurance, and for some reason they have a guideline to push induction at 41 weeks. I know plenty of other midwives/doctors/facilities who won’t induce until 42 weeks. Either way, I don’t like feeling pushed to force my body into doing something it clearly isn’t ready to do. Next time, I plan to bring this topic up sooner with my midwife and advocate for as natural a process as possible.
2. Ask my midwife when she plans to go on a frickin vacation
My midwife went on vacation the very week I was due, and then I had to have the induction discussion with a midwife I had just met. It sucked. Medical people – please tell your pregnant patients well in advance when you’re planning a vacation. Grr.
3. Bring (even more of) my own crap to the hospital for delivery
Our Kaiser hospital claimed to be a “breastfeeding friendly” hospital. What that really translated to was, “We won’t provide you with simple things like breastfeeding pillows, and the things we do provide, we’ll judge you for not bringing your own.”
I’ll start with the breastfeeding pillow. I had one, but I left it at home. My hospital only provided those thin, plasticy hospital pillows, and I had to stack 6-8 pillows around me in order to get my kid in the right position to even try latching. It was awkward and very inconvenient.
Since my boy had trouble latching, they asked if I had brought my breast pump. I said no. They gave me one, but it came with a glare.
Next time, I am bringing all my own stuff.
4. Do everything I can to minimize interruptions and distractions
Nurses and doctors and photographers and clowns and dancing bears were coming in and out of my room juuust about every 30 minutes. Are you frickin kidding me?! There is no way anyone can get any sleep or try to breastfeed with that parade of crazy. This hospital claimed to offer “collaborative care” for my baby and me, meaning that the baby’s doctor and my doctor would work together as a team. Well you know what? That never happened. It didn’t help to have my doc come and take my vitals and then my baby’s doc came to take his vitals 20 minutes later. After this happened to us many times, my husband and I finally had to actually yell at a nurse to get her to leave. And my husband doesn’t yell. We were pissed.
Next time, we plan to tell everyone straight up to take our vitals at the same time and to minimize visits. And we’re bringing paper and tape and a pen to make signs to put on our door telling the photographer to stay the hell away. And you too, dancing bears!
5. Advocate to switch nurses if one isn’t meeting our needs
There was one nurse who came in juuuust after I was finished trying to get my boy to latch. And by try, I mean that we spent 20 minutes wrestling with my boob and his mouth and he was having none of it. I put him down so we could both sleep and we’d try again later. Enter nurse, and she insisted that it was time to nurse. I told her we’d just tried. Like, just. She didn’t believe me. She brought my baby to me and insisted that she watch while I try to get him to latch in front of her.
Looking back, I should have asked for a new nurse right then. If I have to do it over again, I hope I have the ladyballs to do it (ask for a new nurse), because she made me feel like crap and she sucks at her job. At the very least, I’d have my husband go to the nurses’ desk and request a new nurse. Passive-aggressive advocating is better than no advocating at all.
6. Advocate for leaving the hospital sooner
My boy was having trouble breastfeeding, and so it took us a bit longer to figure out a feeding plan that would work for us. I am thankful that things didn’t turn out worse, because had my boy lost any more weight they would have discharged me and kept him and I would have been very worried and peeved. Buuut, I still feel like they took their sweet time getting us ready to go.
We were in the hospital postpartum for 2 days, but when you tack that onto being induced and laboring in the hospital for 2 full days prior, it felt like a looong time. We were tired and cranky. I wanted my own bed and my own shower. Next time, I am going to be packing my bags much sooner as long as we’re all good and healthy.
Now, I know I’ve just done a bit of bitching, but overall I am satisfied and have made peace with my experience.
Hell, there were even some things we did really well that I’ll totally do again:
Cannot emphasize this enough.
2. Brought my own snacks
Because you can’t always (or ever) count on hospital food.
3. Brought my own DVDs
Our hospital room had a DVD player, and I think watching Ryan Gosling helped to move labor along. Seriously.
4. Made a labor playlist
Music really helps to calm me down, and although it didn’t magically end up taking the pain away, it definitely helped. Perhaps Led Zeppelin will work for you, too.
5. Yell at people who aren’t meeting my needs
This includes husbands. Sometimes, you just need to take your pain out on others. It’s not healthy, but it’s like giving birth: you don’t always get what you want.
In case you haven’t heard, my online shirtless husband Ryan Gosling is now my online shirtless babydaddy, complete with memes. (Reposted from Today.com)
For the record, nothing is sexier than reminding me to take my folic acid.
If you’re Ryan Gosling, that is.
I am so blessed.
I haven’t updated about the wedding planning process in a bit, and today I plan to remedy that.
Since I last updated, I have been thrown two beautiful, delicious bridal showers and last weekend I was thrown one saucy bachelorette party! I am incredibly thankful and lucky to be surrounded by such swell people.
When I sat and thought about it, the tradition of bachelor/ette parties is quite amusing, especially in Brian’s and my case since we’ve been in a monogamous relationship for almost 10 years now. It’s a tradition like this that reminds me how much we’ve already been living the married life, and now we just get to throw a massive party to officially celebrate.
All the same, we didn’t pass up the opportunity to experience the traditional debauchery with our gender segregated peer groups!
How does one create the perfect bachelorette party, you ask? Based on my recent hands-on research, I have arrived at the optimal recipe.
Ladies need the accessories on any normal day. Brides need flashing signs saying I’M THE BRIDE! THIS IS MY DAY! NO ONE NEEDS ATTENTION MORE THAN I DO RIGHT AT THIS VERY MOMENT!
My bling came in the form of a stately white hat, complete with a veil, a sparkly sash like I just
won beat up Miss America, and a classy plastic shot glass necklace. No one was going to ignore me if they could help it.
2. Pleasures of the flesh
Some brides-to-be need to get some nasty out of their systems by admiring glistening pee-pees flying about under pulsating lights. That’s cool, I get it. I watched Magic Mike with Depends on to get my fix.
As for me, I am saving myself for Shirtless Ryan Gosling, so instead, my ladies spoiled me with a full body massage (given to me by the masseuse. phrasing.), and I nearly cried on the table I was so overcome with stress leaving my body. Seriously, I wanted to cut off this lady’s hands and take them home with me, they were so magical. They totally would have fit in my purse.
After I spent about 10 minutes drying my tears and wiping the goo off my body (phrasing?), we progressed to the third stage of bachelorette-ing.
3. Gastrointestinal delights
My ladies and I then went to a leisurely late lunch where I stuffed my face with carbs and then had some gelato so delicious I cried some more for good measure.
We were generally obnoxious in this slightly fancy pants restaurant, being loud and getting up to take pictures.
I’d also like to take this opportunity to apologize to the poor, shy bus boy who had the misfortune of having to deliver appetizers to our table. I know some good therapists, kid. Call me.
No bachelorette party is complete without making a complete fool of yourself under the influence. Not one. You wanna fight about it?!
My ladies knew of this hecka rad speakeasy, that actually used to be a real speakeasy, and you needed a password and everything. We felt special and smug.
We were led inside to this smallish room lined with books on one side and very furry red velvet wallpaper on the other. Wobbly 20s clarinet music wafted through the stale air. At first, it was so dark before my eyes had time to adjust that I probably looked drunk just stumbling around for a place to stash my jacket. The irony of having tons of real books (we checked) but not enough light with which to read them was not lost on us, in case you were wondering.
My people kept me well watered that night. At least, I assume the drinks that magically kept appearing before me had more to do with my friends and less to do with magic…even though it felt like I was in the restricted section at Hogwarts.
Now, careful when mixing ingredients 3 and 4, because you don’t want to be reacquainted with all the carbs, gelato, and lobster rolls; those trysts were meant to be one night stands, not rageful ex-lovers returning to throw rocks at your window.
Needless to say, I had a blast and now (after some recovery time including moaning the obligatory I’m never drinking again…) it’s full steam ahead to the Big Day!
The day has come, Psychos, and I just had to change my pants because I am so excited!
Thank you, THANK YOU to everyone who expressed interest in becoming a part of Shirtless Ryan Gosling’s and my special online day! Y’all make me feel special and loved…even more so than Ryan does, which is pretty hard to beat because his photoshopped abs are out of this world.
Now, I’m sure you’re all changing your pants as you read this because you’re dying to know who made the cut.
Well, I’m in the business of making people feel better, and so there’s no way I’d deny anyone the pleasure of taking part in two sexy souls becoming one unstoppable love factory.
Which means…all of you beautiful people who sent me applications in the form of prose, pictures, and babies covered in bacon…y’all win!
The following are everyone’s entries for roles in the wedding party…when the word party is used as loosely as possible.
Matron of Honor – Emily from The Waiting
If you missed her post from yesterday, I highly recommend you go back and read it. Because of her, my inhibitions have been dangerously lowered by cardboard flavored wine and I am armed with copious amounts of mace. Look out, Rachel McAdams! (only I love you and kinda want to be you…so just be nice to me and pretend to rub your eyes while you roll around the ground in agony.)
Officiant – Jen and Tonic
Bouquet Toss Maniac – Quirky Chrissy
Not only did Chrissy write her own post about joining the Shirtless family, but she also sent me photographic evidence as to why she’s a maniac, maniac…on the floor.
Bouquet Toss Girl – mysweatyshirt
Sweaty, you’ll have to duke it out with Chrissy. May the best crazy person win!
Crazy Bridesmaid – Amb from Words Become Superfluous
Combination Florist/Flower Girl – Katie from Words for Worms
If you missed Katie’s post desperately vying to heal childhood trauma by becoming my florist slash flower girl, better go take a looksee.
Plus, she’s adorable:
Can’t wait to see you coming down the aisle!
Wedding Planner – Speaker7
Okay–get ready for your socks to be knocked off and flung into the stratosphere. This is why I am the only wedding planner you should have.
First look at this cake I scored:
Then I found the perfect bride/groom outfit combo:
That’s all you need, yes?
Your wedding planner,
Indeed, you nailed it. I want that cake in my mouth. And it’s like those leotards were…meant to fit together.
Photographer – Sara from Laments and Lullabies
I want to take pictures at your wedding because I have an excuse to get drunk in heels. That’s right, I’ll get myself fancy for your wedding time with RG.
It would please me greatly to snap pictures of drunk babies.
It would please me greatly to snap pics of you being hilarious and sexy at the same time.
I want to touch Shirtless RG on the pecs.
Sorry about that last bit. Just slipped out.
I can make gifs. No wedding is complete without gifs.
Will work for beer and the opportunity to touch pecs.
Saradraws of Laments and lullabies.
Touch him and die. Waiting for some gifs!
The B-list friend – The Cutter
I’d like to be the B-List friend who you didn’t want to invite, but also didn’t want to offend, and you figured I “wouldn’t show up anyway.” And so I get placed at the oddball table in the back corner.
The Narrator – El Guapo
I’d like the role of narrator (or soundman) for the crew fiming this as an episode of the reality show “Don’t you wish you were having this much fun???”
Rapping Granny – calahan
I want to be the rapping granny that entertains at the reception party.
(in response) The Waiting – You will be paid in meatballs. That OK?
Not those Swedish ones, though. As an elderly person, I am slightly racist and the Swedes are scum.
Drunk Ex-Girlfriend – Pixie Girl
Love the idea but I wanted to marry Ryan Gosling! Is there another non-shirtless option available, and also so that I can still stay married to my husband?
Also, I would make an awesome therapist, but I fear I’d lead to your divorce so I can get my paws on Ryan. So perhaps I’d be better as a drunk ex-girlfriend-turned-co-worker who would use the mike-plus-knife opportunity to keep everyone hostage until they hear her drunken story?
Under no circumstances can you have Ryan, with or without his shirt. If I suspect foul play, you’re out.
Sexy Maid – renxkyoko
I want to cosplay and be the sexy maid in uniform at the wedding reception.
I hope you plan to bus the tables! I plan to drop my fork…a lot.
Body Painter – TGVA
I would like to be the fashionista dictator and painter of the bride. Seeing how the man to be is shirtless, the bride will also be shirtless. Please don’t get all upset or offended as the bride to be will sport body paint!!! Some lovely lines on the lovely lines with an artistic flair thanks to ME! . hmmmm????
Mega points for creativity. My boobs really need to be made into fine art.
Drunk Wedding-hater – nevercontrary
I dislike being in weddings so I would like to get drunk on my favorite drink crown and attend this wedding. I will be sitting in the back wearing black and throwing popcorn.
Only if I can catch some popcorn in my mouth.
Baker – Melissa
I see you don’t have a baker… so I nominate myself as your official online-wedding-baker. Will and Kate cake ain’t got nothin’ on this shiz… because it’s cupcakes frosted in dreams, wishes, and baby tears. Too much? Fine, chocolate is good too.
Let me know if I can link to you…because I want this cake in my mouth yesterday.
Wedding Favors – Last, but oh so not least…Le Clown has offered up some extremely sexy wedding favors for y’all.
I am offering my candidacy as the official virtual party favors for Ryan and Lyssa’s wedding. Why?
1. Ryan is Canadian—so is Le Clown;
2. Ryan is magnificently™ hot—so is Le Clown;
3. Ryan has a six pack—so does Le Clown’s naked figurine (not to be confused with the real Le Clown who sports the one-ab™);
4. Le Clown has a crush on Ryan—but that is a whole other story;
5. Le Clown is French Canadian—therefore the ambassador of love;
6. [Insert something about Lyssa];
7. Le Clown believes in self-promotion—please follow my blog.
8. Le Clown is eco-sensitive—you don’t have to print this e-party favor if you care about mother Earth.
9. Fuck you, Eva Mendes.
6. Fuck you.
9. I couldn’t agree more.
And that, my Psychos, is the wedding party!
This is better than eloping!
Hello my wedding-enthused Psychos!
Neither do I.
Now that I have sobered up, keep your glassy, dilated-in-the-presence-of-true-love eyeballs peeled for the big reveal of which esteemed bloggers earned coveted roles in the online wedding to end all online weddings….coming tomorrow!
But first, here’s a word (or 698) from my online Matron of Honor, Emily from The Waiting.
Dearly Beloved and Psychos,
We are gathered here today to get through this little thing called life.
Wait. I am not Prince. Dammit. I am always thinking that I am Prince. I blame it on the raspberry beret I found at a second hand store. And the pills.
I was honored when Lyssa invited me to be her online matron of honor, and by “invited” I mean patted me on my head as I strong-armed my way into her wedding and insisted I AM THE MOST IMPORTANT OF ALL THE PEOPLE. I knew immediately that she was a real friend because she humored me in my ill attempts to make her wedding all about me. Me me me me MEEEEE.
But today, I suppose I have to actually do something for her as she prepares for her walk down the aisle. Come with me as I take a trip to Target – AKA the Mothership – to buy all the very necessary items both a bride and a matron of honor need to make it through the big day.
1. Boxed Wine
Because we are classy gals who live it up in the classiest ways available, I will be bypassing Milwaukee’s Finest and purchasing the choicest box of Chardonnay available for Lyssa. We’ll shoot it back with Dixie Cups right before the ceremony. What is a wedding without inebriation? That was not a rhetorical question. Put your best punchline in the comments.
2. A Sewing Kit
Here in Irony World, we spend three month’s salaries on a dress we will only wear once. Said dress was fashioned out of tissue paper and that gauzey spiderweb netting you see around Halloween at Dollar Tree. So I’ll be bringing along a little sewing kit to remedy any snafus that may occur prior to the ceremony. My girl Lyssa needs to look good. She will not walk down the aisle to an awaiting Shirtless Ryan Gosling with a missing sleeve.
Murphy’s Law is the prevailing law of wedding days. On my own wedding night, I sliced my toe open on a broken bottle of champagne and had to phone my own maid of honor to deliver us a giant box of bandages and Neosporin. I think the word you’re looking for is “sexy.” Screw something borrowed; I’ll be setting Mrs. Shirtless Gosling up with a fully-stocked first aid kit to remedy any paper cuts she may incur from rogue wedding invitations.
I am anticipating a lot of jilted ex-lovers of Shirtless Ryan Gosling showing up on the day of the wedding. Therefore, I will be arming myself with a giant can of mace to show them who’s boss. Lyssa will likely already have a katana sword with her on the big day, because, y’know, LYSSA. Mace will also come in handy in case the chicken being served at the reception is a bit underseasoned. Two years in fine dining taught me how to spruce up an entree in a pinch. Lyssa is so lucky to have me.
5. Beef Jerky
The one thing they don’t tell you before you get married is that it’s really hard to get food in your facehole on the big day. You are too busy posing for pictures, gettin’ your hair did, and pretending to care about makeup to actually eat something. So by the time the day is over and it’s time to get your groove on with your hubs (AND celebrate the fact that you can now use the term “hubs” to refer to him because we all know what a winner that term of endearment is, amiright?), your blood sugar levels have dipped so low that you barely have enough energy to extrapolate yourself out of your dress, much less make sexy time. So what better way to ensure that Lyssa will have the energy to make a man out of SRG than to fill her up with dehydrated meat throughout the day? That’s as filthy as it sounds.
May Lyssa and Shirtless Ryan Gosling have a wonderful day and lifetime filled with love and shirtlessness.
Forever and ever, Amen.
Go read Quirky Chrissy’s post making her case for why she should be allowed to fight to the death for the right to walk away from my online wedding to Shirtless Ryan Gosling with my bouquet in her bloodied hands.
That was an awesome sentence I just typed up there.
I didn’t even realize, but in this post Chrissy informed me that, if her current beau Shirtless Jesse Metcalf ever grows a pair and puts a ring on it [her], we’ll be Shirtless in-laws! I can’t WAIT for the family reunions.
(You should click for the hilariously shoddy photoshopping if for nothing else. It’s even funnier if you’re drunk first.)
My photographer said that the 40s could be summed up with an “Oh, my!” and a skirt twirl.
…we’ll see if that comes through in the photos.
Basically, I was born in the wrong decade. My hips belong in the 40s and 50s and my feminist brain belongs in the 60s and 70s. And I think I lost my ovary in the Great War.
This is like the best picture ever. Brian’s inner child was squealing with joy like a greased pig who just outran Christmas dinner. That, and he looks damn sexy. Coolest part: there was no wind while this pic was taken. Whaaaat.
I look forward to the professional images, because if we look this amazing on my iphone, we’re going to look like frickin old movie stars and shit.
Best part for me: I think I ended up looking a lot like my grandma. Must unearth a picture of her for comparison.
Don’t forget, Psychos! Send me emails to tell me how you’re gonna turn my online wedding to Shirtless Ryan Gosling into a drunken love circus! I *just* found out he’s Canadian – what the what?! I didn’t know they made beefcakes that beefy. Deadline is March 31st.
Good news, psychos.
I wrote a post for The Official How To Blog when I was feeling rather saucy. I’ve since completely forgotten what I wrote, and therefore I take no responsibility.
People tell me the post is about how to find a therapist who won’t bend you over his knee and give you firm, swift swats to the rump in an attempt to re-create childhood trauma. My hope is that you find this post mildly useful and a moderately good substitute for sobbing into your mint chocolate chip. Ride the healing train here.
In other news, I’m sure you’ve all already read this compelling article about how Ryan Gosling is taking a break from acting. I know, I know…I too was ready to start looking for a non-crazy therapist and had even clicked on my own how-to guest post before I began to read between the lines……the reason he’s taking a break from acting is because he’ll be too busy getting online married to me and being my online shirtless husband!!
The proof is in what he doesn’t say:
“I’ve been doing (acting) it too much. [And I need to focus on doing Lyssapants instead.] I think it’s good for me to take a break and reassess [Lyssa’s hot bod] why I’m doing it [because she’s amazingly hot] and how I’m doing it [long and hard]. And I think this [online marrying the pants off her] is probably a good way to learn about that. I need a break from myself as much as I imagine the audience does [so that Lyssa can have my photoshopped abs all to herself].”
And the world makes sense again.
I have zero energy today, and so this post isn’t really a post. It’s a nonpost, an anti-post, if you will (will you?). But I wanna post something, because I haven’t posted in a while. So here’s a post. Or not.
Brian and I are getting ready for another photo shoot this weekend – if the weather holds up, that is. I am sooper excited because it involves Brian flying us around in an airplane, me getting to be a ham in front of a camera, aaaaaaand dressing up. Like, in a costume.
We went and got said costumes last weekend and had a ton of fun trying them on, and I also did a trial run with my hairdo.
That’s right, bitches. This is gonna be rockin’.
Also, consider this a reminder for all y’all who want to be a part of the online wedding action to be had this spring and summer: I NEEDS THE EMAILS! Please email me a little description of how you’re gonna wow and amaze me performing your chosen role in my online wedding to Shirtless Ryan Gosling. Deadline is March 31st. I think. psychobabblepants at gmail dot com.
Also also, I am working on a real post. A funny one. When my body decides it no longer despises energy, I’ll throw it on up here. Bible.