This morning I had an appointment with the good doctor to get things, ahem, reproductively PUT ON HOLD. These pipes are officially closed for business and I've been oh so anxious to have things permanently taken care of. (See: my husband's delay in getting a vasectomy equals me making other plans) I've recently been sung the praises of the IUD and decided that she and I needed to be better acquainted.
Dr. T was in the hallway as I rounded the corner and our relationship picked up where we last left off.
"Watch out for that one," he called to his nurse, "she's feisty."
I had sweet Austin with me (see: horrible, stupid, ridiculous idea) and was trying to balance him and all his stuff as I got down the reason for my appointment.
"I thought Brad was going in for a vasectomy?" the good doctor asked.
"You know how boys are about their junk" I replied.
"You know what I would love?" the good doctor said in between his laughter. "I would love a little miniature Karen doll that I could just pull a string on and one of your crazy comments would come out of it's mouth. I think it'd be a huge hit with my patients."
"I'll look into that for you" I said.
I read through the paperwork, stiffened at some of the side effects (severe cramping for up to 6 months? migraine headaches? unprovoked hormonal swings? Sounds peachy.) and signed the appropriate paperwork. I had hoped that Austin would be sound asleep by now but he was not. He had pooped, again, and I was without a diaper so he sang and squawked and sang some more.
And you know how fun it is to sit in a cold room with a napkin over your lap trying to hide your unmentionables? Well, it's even more fun sitting in a cold room with a napkin over your lap trying to hide your unmentionables AND wrestling a 6-month-old who currently outweighs Gary Coleman.
By the time we finally got started, I was drenched in sweat and cursing the vasectomy god's. Holding your baby while your feet are in the stirrups does not make for good times. Thankfully, the good doctor was swift and me and Mr. Coleman were out of there.
As soon as I reached the car I called my dear friend and begged her to come and babysit me since the cramping! oh the cramping! is unbearable. She offered to come to my rescue with Dr. Pepper and Salt & Vinegar chips in hand. Such a good, good friend.
I just may survive after all.