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Thread: LADIES ONLY! And Now A Few Words From Meemselle....because one word is never enough

  1. #751
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    Quote Originally Posted by keepcoming View Post
    Near killed myself trying to pull a "lovely" zipped type knit dress off. To be honest I didn't care what happened to the dress at this point, I just wanted it off. I have got a good story about Spanx though...lol.
    OY, GEVALT, THE SPANX!

  2. #752
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    Want a dress?

  3. #753
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    https://meemselle.wordpress.com/

    With Permission of You Know Who

    Beginning at 10 a.m., 11/30/94, I labored hard and long.

    In the immortal words of my great friend Celeste: "I thought natural childbirth meant no makeup."

    There are drugs way more fun than childbirth drugs. But, you take what you can get. So when the nursey/doctory people said, "Do you want drugs?" I said, "Errrmm. SO YESK!"

    Any port in a storm.

    And after water-breaking/meconium/bloody stuff/some blessed morphine and then the spinal, I was amusing myself and my husband by sticking the sorbet fork into my legs---with impunity---because there was zippo feeling there. They said: "Do you want to breathe?" And I replied, "Well, yes. I hope so. As long as heaven will allow."

    And the nursey/doctory-people said, " HaHa, Mrs. Ellenberg. You are so funny. You know: the breathing you learned in your birthing classes."

    Gentle Readers: I turned my blazin' greens on them and said, "My what?"

    I guess I figured I was old (43) and was probably doing this birth thing only once, and so I didn't do any of that. Women have babies all the time. I didn't puff-puff or have a focal point. I was having a damn baby, and drama bitch though I may be: I didn't need no...thang. Let's just do it. With lots of (appropriate) drugs.

    So the nursey/doctory-people were appropriately shocked and were whispering behind their backs, as in "we've got a special one here..."

    And so in comes my own personal Nurse Ratchett.

    I am alone; Sholom went home to be with our dog, Indira. I was charted as "failure to proceed." I think the drug was a very mild morphine, and Nurse Ratchett said (and I am not making this up, and you NEVAH forget something like this): "Well, maybe if you weren't so fat, the drugs would work better."

    Yup. She said that. To me.

    And then who steps in? Nurse Judy, that's who.

    Shout out, right now and forever to Drs. Vito and Leonard Ferrucci.* Nurse Judy, all 5 foot nuthin' of her, from their practice, was there.


    I tell Nurse Judy about Nurse Ratchett.

    Betcha Nurse Ratchett never worked another minute in Stamford Hospital.

    FAST FORWARD: At 1.48 p.m. on December 1st, I delivered THE most beautiful baby of all time.

    His brit ha milach was in our apartment in Norwalk, CT, with his zaide as sandek.

    I promised Benjamin right of first refusal on this. You know...boundaries.

    I love Benjamin. He is so smart, so kind, and so tolerant. I know his "eccentric" (for lack of a better word) parents have been a source of ... comedy, at least. Not for nothing did he do stand-up.

    May you continue to give amusement, good food, and nachas to everyone whose life touches yours. You are the best thing I ever did or ever will do.

    Happy Birthday, Little One.

    [SIZE=]* Ashkenazic Jews name only after those who have died. Sefardim name for great people who may still be living, either in the family, or someone the parents wish to honor or hope the child will emulate.

    * Benjamin's name, Benjamin Michael, is after his Ellenberg great-grandfather's American name, and his Irish great-grandfather's name: Benjamin Michael.

    * His Hebrew name, Boruch Chaim-Aryeh, is for his Ellenberg great-grandfather's name (Boruch) before he changed it at Ellis Island and for Drs. Vito (Life/Chaim) and Leonard (Lion/Aryeh) Ferrucci.

    So his Hebrew name is Boruch Chaim Aryeh, which means "Bless him with the life of a lion."

    Omein.
    [/SIZE]

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  5. #754
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    Anyone know what sort of pain relief they give in the DR for childbirth, for those who don't have a C section. Never known any of my Dominican friends go to childbirth classes. Do they have them?

    Matilda


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    I went in the capital all those years ago and have seen them advertised here in Punta Cana too. Almost all the attendees were Dominican but it's not as common as it is in the UK, for example, where most first-timers attend some kind of childbirth preparation classes.
    Moderator East Coast Forum


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  8. #756
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    Quote Originally Posted by Meemselle View Post
    I guess I figured I was old (43) and was probably doing this birth thing only once, and so I didn't do any of that. Women have babies all the time. I didn't puff-puff or have a focal point. I was having a damn baby, and drama bitch though I may be: I didn't need no...thang. Let's just do it. With lots of (appropriate) drugs.
    For my first, I worked full time and had enrolled my classes during the 3 weeks of maternity leave I had before his birth. He came 3 weeks early, went into labor on my way home from my last day of work The nurse told me (exact words): just push hard as if you were taking a sh*t and take deep breath in between Needless to say, skipped the classes for my second since I felt I had enough practice.

    I skipped the drugs when I saw the size of the needle though.

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  10. #757
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    LAY-DEEZ!

    https://meemselle.wordpress.com/

    Spanish Lesson: Fractured
    Posted on December 12, 2018 by meemselle


    Far be it from me, Darlinos, to comment on any other gringos’ attempts to speak Spanish. Mine is….errrmmm….a work in progress.

    When I arrived—for better or for worse—upon these verdant shores, my Spanish was pretty much limited to what one knows from riding the NYC subway. As in the ads for Roach Motels: “Las cucarachas entran pero no pueden salir,” and “Las vías del tren subterráneo son muy peligrosas! ¡No salgas! ¡Espera instrucciones!”

    While I will most likely never (sadly) read Gabriel García Márquez in the original, my competency has improved. I am functional, if not fluent.

    The good news, for my Spanish-speaking friends, is that it renders me relatively mute during more spirited conversations. And for everybody else: if you’ve ever been subjected to me carrying on and on in my horribly affected, drawling voice: you understand what being without a Few Words is worth.

    So, I come not to bury Caesar:

    SCENE: a local restaurant.

    TIME: late lunch

    CAST: a foursome of First Worlders; maybe Canadian? Maybe US? I think Canadian. And moi.

    ACTION: The foursome discuss possible activities. The teleférico in POP comes up as an idea. They bat about the idea of eating in a POP restaurant or bringing a picnic.

    If they bring a picnic, they decide they will buy supplies at Super Pola, which is a big supermarket slightly outside of town, part of the La Sirena chain.

    One of their number, who has either been here before or lives here, was the designated Spanish Expert.

    The other 3 queried: “So, Super Pola means Super Chicken?”

    And with absolute certainty, the Spanish Expert laughed, and said, “NO! 'Pola' means ‘supermarket.’ The word for ‘chicken’ is ‘polo.'”

    To make it even clearer, she intoned: “Po-lo. Chicken. Po-la. Supermarket.”

    Not "pollo," which is the actual word for "chicken." "Po-lo."

    Hmm.

    Darlinos: it took every bit of restraint (a virtue for which I am not famed) for me not to throw down my serviette and offer, in my best Morah Meems voice: “No.”

    Because what could have been gained?

    Having always had schoolmarmish tendencies, I have learned that even though I pretty much know everything about everything all the time, it’s just not worth it. Either one winds up embarrassing the (eejit) person, or one winds up looking like…a schoolmarm.

    Working on my image.

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