How I earned 4 more weeks of bed rest, aka, why your kids should never be in a position to look inside your vagina.

First off, thanks to all of you who said such nice things (and even sent wonderful emails, CaJoh!)in regards to my husband being laid off. Unfortunately, it's not an uncommon occurrence these days, especially in my area. We are lucky, in that he hasn't lost his job, but is off work for a few months in response to the auto plant his company works for being laid off. It's tough, and it completely sucks, but I am just relieved and hopeful that he has a job, nay a new promotion, to return to...someday.

Moving on, I had a wonderful morning of getting ready for my twice rescheduled, totally can't cancel this time, OBGYN bed rest re-check while my kids played downstairs with daddy. I got dressed, all by myself, like the childless people do! I even thought my husband had started my car for me, until he popped in to tell me he was running into work for some random mandatory meeting that he totally didn't write down on fridge calendar because he is a selfish, selfish jerkface.

Side note: the best part is when he looked at me with his duh, you should totally know about this meeting face when he has literally spent the past month in his boxers, playing video games. Which, I totally haven't complained about until now because is takes the pressure off me to put pants on and/or wash daily, but come on! Two kids alone with me at the OBGYN!?

In the long line of things I would never take small children to: funerals, R-rated movies, orgies, going to the OBGYN ranks right up there with the best of them.

Holy. Fuck.

Two boys, one mom and a mid-afternoon appointment, which totally means a packed waiting room and a long wait. One I previously planned to spend reading a non-picture book and playing Tetris on my phone. Damn.

The thing is, an OBGYN waiting room is really a mixed bag. I had to have a plan. My goal was to wedge myself somewhere near a group of first time preggos who are still operating in a fog of all kids are lovely, and the post menopausals who keep grandchildren candy in there purses. Get too near the tired 3rd time pregnant moms, or the dads who are just there to hold a purse...and things could get loud.

Thankfully, our wait was only 20 minutes, and the next part should be a breeze, because, hey it was just a BP check, an update on my cramping, and Bob's your uncle, we should be out of there and in line at the Arby's drive through for a milkshake and fries in no time.

Nurse: How are you feeling?

Me: Oh, sooo much bett- sit down right now- er. Ahem, yes, better.

Nurse: And the cramping?

Me: Almost gone completely, I have really...hold on, let me just grab that tube of cervical jelly really quick and put it up on the high counter here next to the speculum that looks surprisingly just like a super fun duck's beak that he is going to put in his mouth in 3, 2, 1....got it. Ok, where was I, yeah, been taking it easy, cramps have lessened.

Nurse: Ok, well, lets just check your blood pressure really quick.

Me: Please, for the love of God, play with your cars and leave the gigantic cotton swabs alone!

Nurse: Welll...it's still pretty high.

Me: Wonderful.

Then, because clearly Jesus adores me, she had me undress from the waist down for a quick check, which is awesome because, fuck, what's better than running around trying to keep two toddlers away from the plastic model of fallopian tubes and the wall of STD pamphlets, than doing it all...um...naked from the fucking waist down!?

Sweet. Bring on the butt sweat and scrambling around while trying to keep the napkin size paper blanket over my hoo-ha.

And of course, what's more appropriate than for your 1 year old to take off his pants and diaper while you are trapped with your feet 10 feet in the air, because if mommy gets to be pantless, then god dammit, he should too. And, your 2 year old, just to solidify the extensive rounds of therapy in his future, spent the entire exam trying to peak at just what the crap was going on at the end of the table, and why the doctor and I were allowed to play with the duck beak, when he was told otherwise, and what the hell is a "sir-bix," and why can't we open that bitch up and see what happens.

Turns out...my sir-bix was closed...and high...like my blood pressure.

It was a fun day.

I ate lots of fries.