TV Makeover...

A few days ago I looked in the mirror.

I didn't like what I saw. Having babies and being married has aged me by ten years.

(No offense, David.)

So I told David I wanted him to nominate me for one of those TV makeover shows. You know, TLC's 'Ten Years Younger' or 'How Not to Dress'.

You know what he said?

"Why? Those shows only change your clothes. Those shows are all about how you dress."

Now, YOU tell me how I'm supposed to interpret that?

Did David mean that those shows only address wardrobe and, *clearly*, I'm in dire need of a little bit more help than a A-line skirt and tailored jacket.

While I'm thinking intervention. He seems to be thinking rehab--more along the lines of 'Nip Tuck 90210' or 'Jerry Springer'.

I let it go because as a man, he obviously can't help saying all the wrong things.

So today, when I was at the cosmetics department at Nordstrom's I decided I would get a makeover. I had to throw all my eye makeup out a couple days ago because something I was wearing was irritating my eyes. I went in hopeful and optimistic. These people are professionals. They are trained to make you look glam-fab...RIGHT?

I scanned the department store floor and headed straight for the M.A.C. counter. One look at the girls working there and I knew that they had what I needed. The girls at the M.A.C. counters always look like the line up at a nightclub entrance. But today, as I was walking by the mirrored columns of the department store I realized that I needed heavy artillery. The dark circles under my eye were going to need some serious heavy-weight coverage. Looking at the made up faces of the girls working M.A.C. they had coverage and then some more.

I got assigned a makeup artist...and sat there holding the hand mirror watching as she transformed me from a tired worn out mother into a scary black-and-blue-eyed Frankenstein's bride look alike. I will never ever go back to the M.A.C. counter for a makeover ever ever again. I walked out of there looking half man...like a transvestite made up for Mardi Gras.

It was a sad day.

Boys Only.

CORRECTION: David did not come in last. Joe did. David was second to last.

***

It was a small gesture. Something to commemorate and memorialize the man David Lee was before the arrival of our second child and the end of life as he knew it.

Last month, I planned a small outing for Dave and couple of his buddies. The day started out with a gentleman's shave at St. Moritz in SF. Some of you may be wondering what that is. It's an old fashion razor shave. You know, the kind you see in mobster movies. Dave said that it was 'okay', not something he would probably ever do again. I had hoped that it would be a more luxurious experience but it sounded like it was just an 'okay' experience. He said it was 'interesting' but Dave uses that word to describe an entire spectrum of persons, places and things that include but are not limited to the fantastic, wonderful, amazing, bizarre, grotesque, disappointing, hideous, breathtaking, unremarkable...be wary when Dave calls anything interesting. When I first met him, I took his use of 'interesting' at face value and assumed that he literally meant it. That it WAS interesting. But, later I found that it meant nothing but...what it really was was a tactic to avoid speaking the terrible and ugly truth. So, the shave was 'interesting'.

Then off to lunch at Steelhead Brewery. From what I was told there was a lot of talk about the life altering experience of having a second child. Sue, so candidly said: "It will rock your world". She also told me that marital satisfaction is at an all time low when a second child is introduced into a marriage. "So, if you feel like you don't like David, it's not really him..."

If Sue said that, I can only imagine what the boys said over lunch.

After lunch, it was off to the tracks and the guys went to Go Kart Racer. David came home later that day and asked me to guess who won first place. I said, Paul. He looked at me surprised: "How did you know?".

I've seen Paul drive.

There was additional commentary about making the turns and times and records and such, but I won't bore you with such nonsense. As long as they had a good time...my job was done.

I suppose it's only fair that I mention that Joe had the fastest track time, but he came in last because he spun out. Guess he got a little over-impassioned and NASCAR kinda took over. David came in last, but it was because 1) he was trying to follow the rules and not bump into people, 2) he was the biggest guy on the track and the extra weight added to the time lag...3) [insert more lame excuses].

My favorite part? Loved the outfits.

Tanning Session...Strike a pose!

Check out our little girl getting her first tanning session :). How cute is that little pose! We had to take Emma back to the hospital to get treated for jaundice. She spent two days in that little tanning booth getting photo/light therapy. No worries, Dear Friends! All is well and Emma is a healthy and lovely child.

She seemed to enjoy her stay at the hospital. She literally spent two days in that pose. Relaxed and oh so chill :).

Emma Grace Lee
January 30, 2009
6:06pm
6lbs 10oz, 20 inches
San Ramon Regional Medical Center

Dear Friends,

Our little girl arrived Friday, January 30th. It took awhile for us to decide on a name. But we are proud to announce the birth of our daughter, Emma Grace Lee. Derived from 'Emmanuel' -- God is with us.

Isn't it beautiful?

The story behind the naming of our daughter requires an entirely separate blog entry :) ... so we shall save that for another day.

On Friday, January 30th, I went in for my weekly checkup at the doctor's. I was full term at 40 weeks and the estimated arrival date was the 31st, so we had been expecting ANY day. Of course, in the days leading to Friday, I had two false alarms and poor David, both times, got up in the middle of the night ready to rush to the hospital. Sadly, both times I had to recant and an exhausted David would watch me crawl back into bed just as dawn was breaking. At the time I felt bad that he would have to start his day with little sleep. But in hindsight after having given birth naturally without the aid of anesthesia, I find myself left with little to no compassion for others' pain.

You: I lost my leg in a shark attack.
Me: Oh, wow. Sorry to hear that. I gave birth naturally.

You: I was bit by a brown recluse spider which caused my flesh to rot. It hurt.
Me: I bet not as bad as giving birth naturally.

You: I was struck by lightening.
Me: You think that hurt? You should try giving birth naturally.

You: My body caught on fire while I was trying to deep fry my turkey last Thanksgiving.
Me: Hmm...wow...that sounds painful. But you know what's really painful? Natural childbirth. There's this thing they call the 'Ring of Fire'...

Anyways, my doctor accidentally broke my water. So I called David and asked him to meet me at the hospital with a Subway Club. You would think that he would have brought me a foot long given that I would be taking on the task of giving birth to life. A six inch sandwich provides enough sustenance to fuel the remainder of a workday. You know, emails, telephone calls, meetings...You eat a six inch before heading to the mall on a Saturday afternoon. Six inch sandwiches are eaten by construction workers, mailmen, teachers, kids, and soccer moms on Friday afternoons. A pregnant woman about to give birth on a Friday afternoon needs a foot long.

Things at the hospital were at a standstill. I had not gone into labor. No contractions, so they sent us off to walk around and see if labor would kick in. We were told to stay on campus at the hospital, but I made Dave help me bust the joint and we went to Baskin Robbins and had some ice cream. I ordered 'Wild and Reckless' and Dave had the 'Gold Medal Ribbon'. Then we went next door to See's Candies and bought a box of chocolate. And I ate that too.

In life, we get little messages. Sometimes we see them, sometimes we don't. But hindsight always reveals the small tokens of foresight that life tries to offer. Eating ice cream labeled 'Wild and Reckless' is not a normal occurance--for anyone. I should have avoided eating anything called 'wild' or 'reckless' before having a baby. You've heard of the saying: "You are what you eat"...

We returned to the hospital around 4pm and still no contractions, so they gave me potocin to induce labor and 15 mins later, I was going to have a baby...soon.

So here's where my life came to a fork in the road and I had to choose.

Epidural.

Or natural.

I asked: "What's the time difference in labor with epidural and without?"

The nurse told me that I would have the baby much quicker going natural, and that, usually, epidural adds time to the labor process.

I asked: "How much time?"

The baby could come as quickly at 15 mins going natural versus an hour with epidural. The time difference was significant enough for me to forgo the epidural because all I was thinking about was Baskin Robbins. I had been regretful all afternoon long about getting only one scoop instead of two.

Sadly...very unfortunately...I had been asking the wrong question. What I SHOULD HAVE asked was "how much more does it hurt without epidural?"

This, I can answer for you:

Natural birth hurts so bad that the birth of my second child will go down in my medical history as a near death experience. I almost died that day. I asked David if he saw any bright lights or little glowing orbs floating around in the room that day. He said, 'No'. But I'm sure he had his hands full trying to stop me from getting violent with the hospital staff and yelling at strangers.

But, here I am. Alive and well.