Why don't you just cry like a little baby???

I was reading in some (stupid) magazine regarding (stupid) manners. Really, who needs them?

Some (wimpy) chick was whining about all of her friends with kids telling her (true) horror birth stories.

She (wimp girl) was upset at the fact that she was already nervous for the upcoming birth of her child and didn't need her (honest) friends telling her the horrors of birth.

The 'Manners Guru' sided with the Mother-To-Be stating that her friends should keep their stories to themselves.

Immediately I thought, 'girl, let me tell you a little story'.

REALLY, you are about to give birth out your vagina and you don't want any warning??? Any tips?? ANY ADVICE???

Yes, it's going to be roses and candlelight; dark chocolate and ball gowns; champagne fountains and red carpet.

Okay, well, there might actually be red carpet, but the carpet didn't start out that way.

Birth is NOT pretty. A lot of crap comes out of your orifices including ACTUAL CRAP, not even hypothetical crap, real actual brown smelly crap.

Let me repeat, AND YOU DON'T WANT WARNING?!?!

I realized this, I love to scare people. I love to scare the crap out of people. I mean, I try to be a little funny about it, but I thoroughly enjoy telling people horror stories and 'Manners Guru' was getting in my way. We were not friends.

Birth is awesome, birth is miraculous, birth is absolutely disgusting and some not so pretty things happen.

I tell people about those things, happily.

Before I had Sawyer, I remember writing to people that had a child and asking for any advice, anything I would need at home. How they knew when to go into the hospital, what their contractions felt like, how bad their vagina tore, how bad it hurt to push out a poop with a torn up vagina and newborn sucking the perky life out of your boobies.

I asked it all. I wanted to know. I wanted to prepare myself, get things from the grocery story, prepare my husband.

After all that preparing, all the poop talk, all the vagina talk, I was still ill prepared. I tore in a way I didn't know you could and turns out was actually pretty uncommon. I couldn't sit normal for six weeks, I didn't know that the pangs of healing your private parts were exactly that, PANGS of healing and lighting, owwww it hurts, but it's healing. Birth was amazing, it was, but it wasn't roses and lollipops and I think being ill prepared is the worst thing you could do.

Did you know there is spray, and pads, and witch hazel and spray bottles, all for you to go pee, and if you don't have that at home, life is going to suck?! Don't you want to know that?!?!

I tell people. I do. I don't hold back. I talk about my parts, about his entrance about my healing because this stuff happens people and it can happen to you but you don't want to know?!?!

Then I remembered my childhood.

Maybe I'm not normal, maybe my desire to inform others of the unhappy side is not a common thing for the average human.

See, my brother and I had this ongoing competition. It was just a teensy, tiny little competition. You see and it involved the other person's friend and sleep overs and crying.

Background: My favorite movie when I was little was 'Poltergeist'. I loved scary things, I love to be scared and I love to scare the crap out of others.

So, one of us would invite a friend over and the timer would start. If I invited one of my friends over, my brother would do anything and everything he could to make my friend so scared, she would call her mom and ask her mom to pick her up and vice versa.

But I always won.

I was so damn good at making my brother's freind's cry from fear and call their mom shaking.

I really thought it was funny if they called home at a bad time, like midnight.

Oh, the joy we got out of that game and I was the champion.

I'm guessing this isn't normal. I'm guessing that most of YOU did NOT play this game.

I'm guessing that 'Manner Guru' is right and I shouldn't scare the crap out of people.

So, I'm writing in to the magazine and inviting that Mom to a sleepover, you start the timer...