Identity Crisis

Hi! I'm...well let's put it this way...I'm shy. If you know who I am and where I am from, please help keep my identity a secret. I don't want any of my admirers showing up uninvited. Keep me safe by not using my real name or leaving any clues as to where I live. Any comments including my real name or location will not be posted. Sorry, but this Diva has to stay safe.

Monday, October 13, 2014

It Starts...


You would not believe what happened to me almost two weeks ago.  There I was minding my own business sucking on my hands and contemplating the universe when the most annoying thing happened...I was born!  Can you believe that?!  I know!  Shocked the pee out of me...literally.  I mean, what did I do to deserve being evicted from my comfy bachelorette pad?  I mean the view sucked and it got a bit crowded in the end, but I had all the food and drink I could want, it was warm, and the neighbors weren't too bad, then suddenly  *BAM* slapped with an eviction notice.  The landlady only gave me about 8 hours to move out too...rude much?

I was so rudely thrust out into the cold that my umbilical cord got wrapped around my neck and if that hasn't happened to you recently, let me just remind you...it's not pleasant.  Then the doctor has this guy I later found out was my dad cut my umbilical cord.  WHAT GIVES?!  Just because it tried to strangle me doesn't mean you needed to cut it off like that!  I didn't even get to say goodbye.  I was sort of attached to it for the past 40 weeks and then NOPE, CUT IT OFF!!  Then the worst of all happened.  They ripped me away from a comfortable pair of food dispensers and poked me, prodded me, tested my reflexes, wiped me down in the most undignified of fashions, shined a lot of light in my eyes...I could go on, but the memories of such indignation are just too much.


Then there was a short time when they all went away and I met three people.  The one with the food dispensers, that's mommy.  The scruffy one with the beard, that's daddy.  And the one with the food dispensers that don't work, that's my anya.  I guess that is Hungarian for grandmother...who knew, right?  Anyway, I got to sleep on mommy's chest (not a bad place to fall asleep if I do say so myself) and for a whole hour...we were left alone.


Then life went downhill again.  We spent the night in the hospital, I learned how NOT to breastfeed (the politically correct term for food dispensers is apparently breasts), I kept messing my "diaper" (I call it the baby torture device), mommy learned how NOT to swaddle, and sleep happened.  The next day, we left the hospital.  I learned that car seats are Satan's creation and way worse than the diapers.  Mommy and Anya took me to see Daddy at work...I was barely 24 hours old and already meeting my adoring fans.  It's such a curse to be popular.  :D


I went home, met the cats, got sneezed on by the grey and white one, and slept.  Then the next day, I slept and ate and pee'd and poo'd and slept some more.  It was a pretty sweet deal...until the bath.  I don't care who you are, there is no such thing as a relaxing bath.  Not when it involves a stack of towels, a "warm" bowl of water, a wash clothe, and Daddy taking pictures and laughing the entire time.  It was awful and cold not to mention undignified.


A few peaceful days passed and I went to my very first doctor's appointment.  And boy was that a disaster.  Get this.  They told mommy to show up at 8 for an 8:15 appointment to fill out the insurance paperwork, but there was no way she could possibly fill out my employment history, personal reference information, and insurance information, plus the 6 sheets of other useless and inapplicable information in 15 minutes.  When the nurse called us back, she was rude and unhelpful.  She demanded that I be stripped of all my worldly possessions (which to be honest was fine since I had messed my diaper, my shirt, my blanket, and my car seat on the way over), then she wouldn't even let daddy throw away the diaper or whips.  I was hungry and crying starting about 8 a.m., but mommy wouldn't feed me until after the doctor finished up.  Only he didn't even bother showing up to work until 9:15 and stood around with the nurses chatting about his vacation.  When he did bustle in after daddy stormed out, he said, "Sorry I'm late.  I got caught in traffic coming in from Beverly Hills."  I had to leave the house at 6:30 a.m. to make my appointment!  Plan ahead!!  All in all, he held me upside down to check my spine, pushed my feet around, chastised mommy because I was screaming and he couldn't hear my heartbeat, and was done in 7 minutes.  By the time we left, it was 9:30 and I still hadn't eaten.  Mom fed me in the car despite being "allowed" to stay in the room longer to feed me because why would we want to spend anymore time dealing with people who clearly have more important things to do...like discuss their hangovers from a six day party with the nurses.

Needless to say, Daddy found me a new pediatrician and I saw her the next day.  She listened to my heart, tickled my toes, answered mommy and daddy's questions, and was overall very sweet.  I'm going back to see her in two days for a weight check and follow up.  We'll see how big I've gotten then!

And that's the abbreviated story of my life so far...more later next week!

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