All posts filed under “Family

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33-YEARS OLD, HAS S*** TOGETHER. HERE’S HOW!

I turned 33 on October 12th and almost instantly, I had my shit together.

Just kidding, clickbait.

Per tradition, I reflect on the previous year and set goals for the next year. Obviously, becoming Baby Gumbeaux’s mom and adjusting to motherhood was the biggest event of the year. To compliment that adjustment, I resigned from every organization and board, with the exemption of PTA . My true calling (Read: 10-Months-Old, Parties Like a Rockstar & Does Not Care If We Get Sleep). As a result, I am spending my time the way I want. Well, with the exception of the time I spend working for the man. Anyway, I have more time to focus on family and my personal goals which include, but are not limited to:

Not complaining. Complaining about being in Jackson, lack of advancement in my career, not being able to find a foundation to match my skin tone, etc. Now, I am only discussing what I want and taking action which often includes balancing a shitload of stuff, because I want to accomplish a shitload of things. To compliment this change, I recite affirmations every morning but then I found out Baby Gumbeaux was slapping her classmates for touching her hair and bib so I started reciting them with her, on the way to school. Naturally, we started including Husband Gumbeaux or should I call him Daddy Gumbeaux? Zaddy Gumbeaux?

Launching my podcast entitled Jxn Transplants. Now, I get to be honest about my struggle to adjust and know there are other transplants who relate. It also gives a ton of recommendations to transplants, Jacksonians, and even people who want to visit Jackson. Apparently, that is a thing.

Taking pictures more often. Not for you weirdos, in general. I detest taking pictures. I don’t know how to pose, my eyes are usually closed, terrible angles; mostly importantly, I don’t like smiling. Thugs don’t smile. I think it’s because I have become increasingly uncomfortable with my body; particularly, after incubation.

Last and least but certainly not least, I have to finish writing my dissertation. I’ve been talking about this for the last few years (I enrolled in the program a year after starting this blog). I have tons of excuses: sick and tired, interested but uninterested, dreams and goals have changed, struggling to find the relevancy of having a PhD, drained, merely thinking about it is exhausting. Actually, I’m going to take a nap.

And, I’m up. Fun fact: I am still paying tuition and have to remain enrolled if I want to finish this very last step. As a result, I will finish. Prayer warriors, reach your hands out to me and help me get through this. I may include you in the acknowledgements. Side note: it’s super annoying when people who have never been enrolled in a doctoral program ask me what’s taking so long. What’s taking so long for you to mind your business? 

Yeah, so… I accept your belated birthday wishes. I am still accepting gifts and money. As stated many times before, my friendship can be bought. Listen to my podcast and tell me I’m doing an awesome job. Read and share my previous post: Fun Facts My Parents (and Grandparents) Don’t Know

Follow me most places @pinkgumbeaux.

Ashlee, out.

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10-MONTHS-OLD, PARTIES LIKE A BROKE ROCKSTAR & DOES NOT CARE IF WE GET SLEEP

I have an awesome idea for Baby Gumbeaux’s first birthday. I am going to throw myself a party! I think surviving a year of motherhood should be rewarded.

BG is still a bat out of hell in a walker, only crawls on carpet (will freeze and have a meltdown if you put her on the floor), now stands in her playpen (often holding on to the rail, dancing, dropping it low then picking it up slow), and can say three words: heeeeey (hey), mama, and dada. Side note: She said mama first. Why? I have been practicing it with her for the last two months, behind Husband’s back. 

One thing I find interesting is when we are all together, she goes back and forth between Husband and me. It’s like she wants to give us equal attention. Thanks for your consideration baby Iyanla Vanzant.

Home girl thinks she is supposed to eat everything we eat and for the most part, she does. We have even split a bottle of wine. And, no. No, she has not secured employment and does not financially contribute to the household. At the least, she should be washing her own clothes and changing her diaper.

At this moment, I want you to brace yourselves for the most important news ever announced on Pink Gumbeaux, more important than my 32 years on earth, and probably more important than the combined accomplishments of all my readers!

Are you sitting?

OK.

Are you sure you are ready?

Fine.

I’m trying to make sure you’re good.

A month or so ago, I attended a parent-teacher conference where they informed us of the parent association and asked if anyone was interested in being a board member. I lit up, Husband shook his head. I have a shitload of stuff on my plate and have been working for the last year to get rid of it but none of that mattered, I raised my hand. At that moment, a bright light appeared over me. Actually, that didn’t happen. I don’t think that particular room has windows… Anyway, I spent the next few weeks obsessing over “the email” announcing the meetings and officers. I told everyone that I was running for office and planned to win the election.

The day of elections (last Thursday), I overdressed the baby and dressed as if I was being named CEO of a Fortune 500. I had even memorized a small speech regarding my experience and platform. Yes, I did this in real life. Once there, only 2 (including me) of the 5 parents who volunteered to be officers showed up. When the daycare’s director asked about officers, I volunteered to be president and was elected. The other parent was unsure and I am not sure if the others have picked positions but that didn’t stop me from telling family and friends that I won by a landslide. I am even demanding they address me as President, bragged about being a public official, and may change this blog to President Gumbeaux.

 

Yeah so, I’ve had an awakening. Life experiences, getting married and having a baby has led me to become President of the Parent’s Association. This is my purpose. Hello public office, I am here and I am going to change the world!

For whatever reason, a host of family and friends think the daycare and parents should be afraid. Something about me being Type A, bossy, and “extra”. Right, Ercilla? Isn’t that the word you used? Of course, I disagree. I’m more of an ambitious, sometimes aggressive, bossy, impatient and extra person.

Anyway, this concludes my 10-month update. Thanks for coming to my TED Talk.

Read and share my previous post: National Read a Damn Book Day. Follow me most places @pinkgumbeaux

 

 

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THE FINAL TRIMESTER & ARRIVAL OF BABY GUMBEAUX

Baby Gumbeaux & Ugly Hospital Gown

Reader discretion is advised. This blog post contains TMI and may be considered a long read for people with small brains.

Each trimester was worse than the previous. At this point, I got accustomed to sleeping maybe a few hours a night, experienced acid reflux and heartburn all day, could not find a comfortable sitting or sleeping position and spent most of my waking hours agitated. How agitated? Enough for coworkers and bosses to keep asking me “when are you going on maternity leave?” On the other hand, a lot of those symptoms ended the moment I gave birth.

Induction

On November 12th, I arrived at the hospital 15 minutes after my scheduled check-in because I wanted nachos. I had to complete a couple of forms filling in basic information then got to the dumbest question on earth: “Why are you here?” Let’s see… 9 months pregnant, checking into “labor and delivery” and you’re asking me why I’m here? My response? To get this baby out of my body! The nurses thought it was a funny response.

As a result of my cervix not softening and not dilating, I agreed to be induced using a method called Foley Bulb Induction. My bed was lifted to what seemed like the ceiling then the balloon was inserted. I instantly started cramping and was informed it would likely be a painful and uncomfortable night. I was given sleeping pills that did not work.

12 hours later, Pennywise (OBGYN) removed the ballon. I had dilated 1 f***ing centimeter. Plan B? The use of Pitocin which I was on for 11 hours! Contractions got more intense but wasn’t enough for me to get the epidural they kept trying to shove down my throat. After dilating just 2 more centimeters, Pennywise informed me that she would give me 2 more hours but that it was highly likely I would have to get a C-section. I used that final hour to cry. I never considered a C-section, didn’t know much about C-sections, am not here for needles and sharp objects, IT’S MAJOR SURGERY, and recovery would be tougher for Baby Gumbeaux and I.

Delivery

They “graciously” allowed Husband to be with me while I got the Spinal Block (which immediately numbed my body). I asked Husband not to look while they conducted the C-section, I didn’t want him to be scarred for life. Thankfully, the process was super quick. They showed me Baby Gumbeaux and she is gorgeous. I was relieved because ugly babies exist.

Recovery

24 hours after being sliced like a pizza, hospital staff made me walk the hallways. This is the most challenging and painful thing I’ve ever encountered in my entire life. Of course I needed help walking, in and out of bed, when showering and using the bathroom which resulted in me being super comfortable with doctors and nurses seeing me in the nude. Side note: Why are those hospital gowns so unattractive? Who the f*** designs them? Most importantly, why do hospitals keep buying them?

Support

I felt it when I got pregnant and again after the baby. I don’t know how women do it without support. Husband has witnessed a blood clot the size of a baseball dropping out of me, has changed my bedpan and wiped my butt. Just to think, a few weeks ago I didn’t even poop in front of him.

My younger brother has witnessed me pumping on more than one occasion and has the pleasure of cleaning and disposing of bloody, poop and or urine-filled diapers and pads.

Mom’s in town, is super helpful, has been taking some of the midnight shift so we can sleep, telling me that I’m not feeding the baby enough, that I hold her too much (and that it will spoil her) then when I put her down, she proceeds to hold her…

Last but not least are my friends. I kind of struggled with the thought of raising a baby without my family. I had my parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles and tons of cousins. While Husband does have family here, I think they’ve aged out of the category where they can be super active. These friends are my family now. They have given me tons of advice, hosted my baby shower, bought Baby Gumbeaux a ton of stuff, volunteered to babysit, arrived at the hospital before me, have visited and been supportive postpartum. While I’m at it, I should spread the joy *gag* Family, coworkers, acquaintances, church members and even internet strangers have been helpful, supportive and made this transition a little easier. I mean, as easy as it can be when one is getting no sleep and peed on (4xs at this point).

Read and share past pregnancy posts:

Second Trimester: The Rise and Fall of the Incubator 

Shit Pregnant Wives Say to Their Husbands

Shit Husbands Say to Their Pregnant Wives

The Ultimate Guide to Being Knocked Up

Another Blog Post Complaining About Pregnancy

My “New” Maternity Wardrobe

The First Trimester

Hell Has Frozen over, Pigs Are Flying & I’m Pregnant

Like and follow Baby Gumbeaux on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram.

May the odds be ever in MY favor. What? I have a newborn, ain’t nobody thinking about you guys.

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S*** PREGNANT WIVES SAY TO THEIR HUSBANDS FT. HUSBAND

Disclaimer: No feelings were hurt during this interview; however, spouses remain severely agitated. 

Now, the list of common words and phrases by yours truly also known as Incubator also known as Me also known as the Person Formally known as Ashlee who sometimes goes by the Pregnancy Emoji.  It’s kind of a Prince reference, get it?

“You don’t like me, do you?”

Husband: When Incubator says this, I think she’s being extra.

Incubator: Of our entire relationship, I know I am most annoying right now. I’ve caught him rolling his eyes several times which usually results in me asking him if he dislikes and or hates me but I assure you, being pregnant is way more annoying then whatever I do to him. The nerve. 

“Hungry!”

Husband: While I do understand Baby Gumbeaux has increased Incubator’s appetite, I think she’s milking it a tad bit.

Incubator: That does not sound “understanding” at all *stares*

“Do I look pregnant today?”

Husband: She asks me this everyday. I think she is still in shock and that it hasn’t set in yet.

Incubator: From my angle, it often looks like a potbelly *shoulder shrug*

“I have to pee.”

Husband: She says it’s because the baby is sitting on her bladder but I don’t think Baby Gumbeaux would do such a thing.

Incubator: She’s controlling him and not even here yet. He’s going out like a sucker.

“Don’t touch me.”

Husband: She doesn’t want me to get her pregnant again.

Incubator: *points to belly*

“Are you going to ditch me after your new toy arrives?”

Husband: No, who’s going to feed her?

Incubator: My parents and grandparents have told me they are ditching me for the new model, I don’t think he’s being honest. I predict the following scenario:

Baby Gumbeaux: “Hey Dad, whose that old lady who stays in the basement?”

Husband: “Oh that’s your mom.”

“Rub my feet.” 

Husband: I know the baby is causing the Incubator’s feet to swell but it could also be those heels she’s still trying to squeeze into.

Incubator: Really? Could you not put my business in the streets? 🗣 I ONLY WEAR HEELS LIKE ONCE A WEEK!

“Pay attention to me.” 

Husband: Incubator needs extra attention during this time.

Incubator: So, I read this is likely because I need help protecting the baby. It’s some type of extraterrestrial instinct or something because I really don’t like him like that.

“You’re annoying me…”

Husband: Likewise.

Incubator: 🙂

“Like” Baby Gumbeaux on Facebook, and follow on Twitter and Instagram. Read and share my previous post: S*** Husbands Say to their Pregnant Wives

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S*** HUSBANDS SAY TO THEIR PREGNANT WIVES


Disclaimer: No feelings were hurt from the below comments, I actually find my Husband’s comments quiet entertaining. 

*clears throat* Now, to the list of things I hear nearly every single day.

“Have you taken your prenatal vitamin?” 
Never did he care about my supplement intake until he impregnated me with his spawn. At least twice a day, he asks me this and rarely believes me. I sometimes think it would be better for him to administer the supplement to me then speak to my belly and confirm Baby Gumbeaux has received the nutrients she needs.

“Why are you so gassy?” 
Listen, I am an incubator. I no longer have any control over my body. Unfortunately, I am most gassy early in the morning and at night, while in bed with Husband. It sounds worse than it is and doesn’t have a smell. It’s just Baby Gumbeaux using me to say “Hi Daddy.”

“You can’t be hungry again.” 
No, actually I am not hungry. I was accustomed to eating mac and cheese as a meal but YOUR baby is never satisfied so feed me.

“Stop blaming everything on the baby.” 
This guy acts like he has not been with me for 7 years. He knows I have not been this gassy ever in my entire life but will not blame anything on his precious seed. When confronted about this, he stated that he doesn’t know if he ever really knew me…

“Boobies” 
I was a DD before I got knocked up and don’t even want to guess what size they are now. What’s worse, I’m just 24 weeks so I know there is a chance they could double. This will likely result in me no longer needing to use my legs; instead, floating from room to room via my boobs. Nonetheless, he’s a man so he likes it. Which brings me to the following:

“I am going to get you pregnant.”
If you’ve been following me, have read the title, and or have read most of this post you know that I am already pregnant but he’s very attracted to my changing body. It’s kind of weird and I often fear for my life.

“I don’t think you can fit that anymore.” 

“Come on, let me grease you.” 
Translation: Let me apply the butter so I can help you prevent stretch marks but mostly because I am a perv.

Come here, let me put your belly belt on.” 
I can actually do this by myself but if it makes him feel like a helpful noodle, strap me up!

“You shouldn’t run, you look like a muffin with legs.” 
Just when I thought I could get a brief jog in, I quickly changed my mind because I now look like “a muffin with legs.” Power walk it is…

“You’re so pretty.”
*smiles*

Husband is looking forward to writing his blog post on my most frequent words and phrases which are most likely complaints. “Like” Baby Gumbeaux on Facebook, and follow on Twitter and Instagram. Read and share my previous post: The Ultimate Guide to Being Knocked Up