Tattoos and Scars

You know when you are in a stressful situation or are counting backwards while being put under and they tell you to find your happy place? You search for butterflies and grass or classical music in your mind. You dig deep and recall a magical moment in the way back of your mind. Your happy place may be in the mountains or on a beach, reading a good book with a glass of wine by a fire, or sleeping in a hammock.

My happy place is somewhere on a beach. Not a very well known beach. I am talking the kind of place where you master the fine art of counting waves. My dad introduced me to this art form when I was young, on the beach in Virginia. I fell in love with the water, the shells, and the sun. Now that I am older I simply added a cold cocktail.

Life is hectic and sometimes we forget about our happy place. The mundane chores of daily life pull us down like a current. Fear not! I found a solution! For me, anyway.

While living in the Sunshine State I decided it was time for tattoo number two. I will not bore you with the details of the first one as it needs to either be removed or redone by one of the wizards on Miami Ink. Tattoo number one is almost 15 years old now and is showing signs of age. Maybe I will do a before and after post one day.

Back to number two. Hubs and I were spending the day on Ft. Myers Beach. Before we had Little Man we spent all of our free time exploring Florida and it's great beaches. This particular day we stayed close to home and had just finished a couple of frozen concoctions at the famous "Top 'O Mast" on the beach.

So I have a strategically placed birthmark. This birthmark resembles an island. Daddy and I had always joked I should get a palm tree on said island. We couldn't think of a better time.

Off we go to Big Stick Tattoo. BS is the typical tattoo parlor with ideas on the walls and a sign that reminds me "yes, it still hurts". No problem, I am still in.

I meet my artist Bobby. He reminds me of an older, shorter version of Danny Boneducie, red hair and all. I like him and he informs me he can freehand the palm tree I pointed to on the wall. Wow, I am impressed, and a little nervous.

I am instructed to straddle the swiveling chair so he can get a better vantage. While straddling I am able to watch Bobby design other tattoos on the TV. I guess Bobby likes to tape his work so he and others can enjoy later. My art is not spared, Daddy has been employed as cameraman. Look Mom! I am on TV!

I prepare myself. He informs me he will start with the trunk of the tree. Whoa! How tall is the trunk? I swore the tree was all the way up to my bra line! Daddy later informs me the words in his mind were "oh, well we can't turn back now". He keeps his mouth shut and keeps rolling tape.

I sit there for what seemed like a day, if nothing else it was long enough for my Rum Runners to wear off and Bobby to take a smoke break. It was really only about two hours. I need to remind you, I have been on the beach so I am in my swim suit. I am straddling a chair with my suit in places that only my OBGYN has seen and I am trying not to concentrate on the fact that I really need to get on a treadmill. Those tattoo needles can make your jiggling parts jiggle even more.

My new friend Bobby tells me we are finished. I am exited to see my tree but because of the location of my birthmark I can not look directly at it, I have to twist and turn like the yoga lover I am. I turn in the mirror and I am shocked! He free handed that? That is a palm tree? How can something so small feel like it was piercing my frontal lobe? I love it! I got more than I bargained or paid for but was happy with my new happy place. My island birthmark had a tree, sun, birds, and all the fixins to make counting waves a breeze (Ha Ha, get it).




I studied my new happy place for weeks while I settled into my new digs. It was a perfect illustration of that time in my life. I think of my tattoos as just that; an expression of who I am and where I have been in life. I struggle with the idea of changing my first tattoo because I feel like that is me just trying to change the past. Every decision we make is what makes us who we are today.


*Image has been enlarged for detail; it is actually a small tattoo and is placed where you only see if without clothes.






The Babe has a birthmark just like mine. Daddy swore it was a bruise until it was there for about three months and did not go away. So far, this is the only physical characteristic The Babe has like me.






For those of you in the crowd that might be offended, please don't be. The tattoo is not in any "naughty" places but it is placed so only those that see me naked get to see it. I like tattoos on other people that I can see, but like to think of my two as my little secrets with hubs...and all of you.

Tattoos and Scars

You know when you are in a stressful situation or are counting backwards while being put under and they tell you to find your happy place? You search for butterflies and grass or classical music in your mind. You dig deep and recall a magical moment in the way back of your mind. Your happy place may be in the mountains or on a beach, reading a good book with a glass of wine by a fire, or sleeping in a hammock.

My happy place is somewhere on a beach. Not a very well known beach. I am talking the kind of place where you master the fine art of counting waves. My dad introduced me to this art form when I was young, on the beach in Virginia. I fell in love with the water, the shells, and the sun. Now that I am older I simply added a cold cocktail.

Life is hectic and sometimes we forget about our happy place. The mundane chores of daily life pull us down like a current. Fear not! I found a solution! For me, anyway.

While living in the Sunshine State I decided it was time for tattoo number two. I will not bore you with the details of the first one as it needs to either be removed or redone by one of the wizards on Miami Ink. Tattoo number one is almost 15 years old now and is showing signs of age. Maybe I will do a before and after post one day.

Back to number two. Hubs and I were spending the day on Ft. Myers Beach. Before we had Little Man we spent all of our free time exploring Florida and it's great beaches. This particular day we stayed close to home and had just finished a couple of frozen concoctions at the famous "Top 'O Mast" on the beach.

So I have a strategically placed birthmark. This birthmark resembles an island. Daddy and I had always joked I should get a palm tree on said island. We couldn't think of a better time.

Off we go to Big Stick Tattoo. BS is the typical tattoo parlor with ideas on the walls and a sign that reminds me "yes, it still hurts". No problem, I am still in.

I meet my artist Bobby. He reminds me of an older, shorter version of Danny Boneducie, red hair and all. I like him and he informs me he can freehand the palm tree I pointed to on the wall. Wow, I am impressed, and a little nervous.

I am instructed to straddle the swiveling chair so he can get a better vantage. While straddling I am able to watch Bobby design other tattoos on the TV. I guess Bobby likes to tape his work so he and others can enjoy later. My art is not spared, Daddy has been employed as cameraman. Look Mom! I am on TV!

I prepare myself. He informs me he will start with the trunk of the tree. Whoa! How tall is the trunk? I swore the tree was all the way up to my bra line! Daddy later informs me the words in his mind were "oh, well we can't turn back now". He keeps his mouth shut and keeps rolling tape.

I sit there for what seemed like a day, if nothing else it was long enough for my Rum Runners to wear off and Bobby to take a smoke break. It was really only about two hours. I need to remind you, I have been on the beach so I am in my swim suit. I am straddling a chair with my suit in places that only my OBGYN has seen and I am trying not to concentrate on the fact that I really need to get on a treadmill. Those tattoo needles can make your jiggling parts jiggle even more.

My new friend Bobby tells me we are finished. I am exited to see my tree but because of the location of my birthmark I can not look directly at it, I have to twist and turn like the yoga lover I am. I turn in the mirror and I am shocked! He free handed that? That is a palm tree? How can something so small feel like it was piercing my frontal lobe? I love it! I got more than I bargained or paid for but was happy with my new happy place. My island birthmark had a tree, sun, birds, and all the fixins to make counting waves a breeze (Ha Ha, get it).




I studied my new happy place for weeks while I settled into my new digs. It was a perfect illustration of that time in my life. I think of my tattoos as just that; an expression of who I am and where I have been in life. I struggle with the idea of changing my first tattoo because I feel like that is me just trying to change the past. Every decision we make is what makes us who we are today.


*Image has been enlarged for detail; it is actually a small tattoo and is placed where you only see if without clothes.






The Babe has a birthmark just like mine. Daddy swore it was a bruise until it was there for about three months and did not go away. So far, this is the only physical characteristic The Babe has like me.






For those of you in the crowd that might be offended, please don't be. The tattoo is not in any "naughty" places but it is placed so only those that see me naked get to see it. I like tattoos on other people that I can see, but like to think of my two as my little secrets with hubs...and all of you.

Birth Story Carnival-Ride #1

Thanks to Lotus for this great idea!

The Arrival of Little Man

It was Memorial Weekend 2006. We spent time hanging out with friends in the Florida sun. This was the weekend that my mysterious rash started showing up in the middle of the night. The only thing that would stop the itching and burning of the swollen red patches was to submerge the afflicted area in super cold water. The next two weeks entailed me and Daddy waking in the middle of the night to me itching and crying. My fabulous nurse midwife prescribed some meds that would help with the itching but one evening I had this weird feeling it was sedating Little Man, which was really what the “anti-itch” ingredient did for me. While driving to the ER he began kicking again; to tell me to go back to sleep probably.

About two weeks before my due date my cervix was “swept” at my request and my midwife agreed based on the situation with the inexplicable rash and my increasing discomfort due to it. A sweep is defined as:

Membrane sweeping is done by your midwife or doctor. While internally examining you, he or she will simply "sweep" a finger around the neck of your womb (cervix). The aim is to separate the membranes around your baby from your cervix. This releases hormones called prostaglandins, which may kick-start your labor. A membrane sweep increases the likelihood that labor will start within 48 hours. It has a higher chance of working if the neck of your womb is already softening and preparing for labor. It does not increase the risk of infection to either you or your baby.

This is a debated topic and you will find varying opinions. My midwife told me if I am ready I will be in labor within 24 hours but she highly doubted it would work. I told her I would see her tomorrow. She laughed.

Although Little Man was due to arrive around the end of June but on June 17th I woke around 4am the day after my sweep with what we had affectionately named “The Rash” and went to the office to work. I went back to bed and woke around 9am to some back pain. Lots of back pain. Took a shower. Didn’t tell Daddy yet. More pain. Sit. Stand. Walk. Told Daddy. Three minutes apart! Called my midwife at the hospital. This is where I have to remind Daddy’s grandmother that not all midwives work in the woods; some work in hospitals with doctors. I will not delivery this baby on newspaper in a box.

Patty tells me to call later if still in pain. I was at her office within an hour. The hour included me crying and trying to eat jello; then I remembered in birthing class they said one symptom of labor is nausea. Regular back pain, check. Nausea, check. Get to the hospital and get examined. I was only dilated to a 2 and 70% effaced. I was told to go home. You. Have. To. Be. Kidding. Get in the car. Hit the dash with each knife twist in my lower back. I thought labor pains were supposed to move? At home darling Daddy hurries to get work done; thank God we work together at home. Daddy gets work done and pack the bags. The day includes more crying, sitting on the birthing ball, leaning on counters and watching the clock. Still three minutes apart. By 5pm I am done; this cannot go on. We are at the hospital by 5:30. I am checked in and this is where it gets a little fuzzy. I am still only dilated to about a 2 and 70%; I am not progressing.

I am admitted and begin to vomit. A nurse comes in to give me an IV of anti-throw up meds. She must have been a new nurse; how many times can you poke me arm. I was a little cranky at this point and when the “IV specialist” comes in I asked “can you get it in one try?”. I was kind of kidding. Kind of. I hear one of the nurses say to another under her breath that vomiting usually does not occur until you are further dilated….ok…you girls hear me yet? This baby is ready I don’t care how wide the door is, he is knocking.

What seems like hours pass and Patty finally arrives. She only has one other patient tonight in the room next to me so she will be hopping back and forth. For those that do not know about midwives let me tell you this. They are fabulous. When we moved to Florida in 2004 I needed a new OBGYN. I was referred to a particular office that had OBs and Midwives and chose an OB. After all I need a “doctor”. I soon learned that one particular midwife delivered about 90% of all children in my neighborhood…and there were a lot of kids in this hood of 1400 homes. I had the opportunity to switch to the midwives and took it. Thank god. More on Patty in a bit.

Patty arrives and I ask here where in the hell she has been. She laughed because she knows how funny I am. I did not laugh. Epidural Man arrives after Daddy heads to get the bags from the car. Daddy later tells me he kind of planned it that way; he was not sure he could watch. It took a few attempts to get the epi in my back; I guess I was not cooperating. Epi man gave me a little motivation when he said “honey, this is your last chance, I have other patients I need to tend you so if you want this you better bend over”. I did. I instantly felt like I was back at my sister’s first wedding on the beach in Puerto Rico…dos curevos frio por favor!”

Still not progressing. I am informed they need to break my water. A little discomfort and suddenly I have wet the bed; please change my sheets. Watch and wait. Time passes. Patty tells me I will know when it is time. Here we go let’s push. Either I wasn’t doing it right or Little Man wasn’t ready, after pushing for about an two hours we still weren’t progressing. Patty instructed me to take a break and try again in a few minutes. I am later told that after two hours of pushing with an OB I would have been taken for a C-section; thank you midwifery! I took a little siesta while Daddy and Patty talked for 45 minutes! Remember when I said midwives are awesome? Patty was with us the whole time! She talked with us, rubbed my back with essential oils, played music, dimmed the lights and encouraged me. I wake and realize that it was not time to push earlier, it is now.

I am starting to appreciate the fact that I worked out up until the last week of pregnancy; I am not sure I could have pushed that long without the site up improvement. It took Little Man 5 hours of pushing to come out. That is why you had back labor mama! He was sunny side up! Silly boy. Here comes my cone headed boy. Patty puts a cap on him so I don’t see what looks like a Dan Akroyd in the Cone People skit on SNL. 7.9 lbs and tons of red hair (that will soon turn on me to blonde) have arrived. We laugh, we cry, and we call our nationwide network of family. He is here!

Lee Memorial Hospital in Ft. Myers is awesome. We were taken to our private recovery suite with bed for Daddy and Jacuzzi tub. I am wired. Can’t sleep. We keep Little Man with us at all times. I nurse and sleep. Nurse and cuddle. Reality sets in. It is Friday and we run our own business. Daddy plops the laptop on the bed desk; charge the cards mama, we have to pay for this somehow! I am watching Little Man sleep while I e-mail some of our distributors; what are you doing they say you just had a baby! I know but I can’t sleep and probably never will again. I am filled with joy and anxiety. Almost three years later I still am.

We take Little Man home on a sunny summer day in Florida. He left the hospital a little jaundice and did not improve when we got home. I stopped nursing because he just wasn’t eating. You have to poop the biliruben out bud; better start eating! Back to the hospital after a few days so he can get a tan in the bili bed. Feelings of regret; should I not have asked to be swept? No time for that, there will be plenty of time to second guess my parenting in the years to come.



The Van Zant song below was playing on our radio when we took G home…appropriate.

I was raised on the westside shanty town
I didn't get up until the sun went down
When your back's against the wall
You better get tough
You learn real quick how to swing and duck.

Chorus:I was born in the sweet hot Florida sunshine
Good lookin' women backwoods and moonshine
Learned more about life on the streets then in the school
My sweet mama didn't raise no fool. (That's right.)

Some folks cheat and some folks lie
But I can judge a man from the look in his eye
Don't hand me Jack and try to call it cola
I know the difference between shit and shinola.

Chorus:I was born in the sweet hot Florida sunshine
Good lookin' women backwoods and moonshine
Learned more about life on the streets then in the school
My sweet mama didn't raise no fool. (That's right.)
(I'm talking about mama, oh sweet mama.)

Mama was no angel but she taught me right from wrong
She knew every single word and every single note of every song
She taught me how to gamble, how to roll the dice
If it makes you feel good do it don't think twice.

Chorus:I was born in the sweet hot Florida sunshine
Good lookin' women backwoods and moonshine
Learned more about life on the streets then in the school
My sweet mama didn't raise no fool. (That's right.)

Chorus:I was born in the sweet hot Florida sunshine
Good lookin' women backwoods and moonshine
Learned more about life on the streets then in the school
My sweet mama didn't raise no fool. (That's right.)

Talkin' about my sweet mama
Mama didn't raise no fool...

Birth Story Carnival-Ride #1

Thanks to Lotus for this great idea!

The Arrival of Little Man

It was Memorial Weekend 2006. We spent time hanging out with friends in the Florida sun. This was the weekend that my mysterious rash started showing up in the middle of the night. The only thing that would stop the itching and burning of the swollen red patches was to submerge the afflicted area in super cold water. The next two weeks entailed me and Daddy waking in the middle of the night to me itching and crying. My fabulous nurse midwife prescribed some meds that would help with the itching but one evening I had this weird feeling it was sedating Little Man, which was really what the “anti-itch” ingredient did for me. While driving to the ER he began kicking again; to tell me to go back to sleep probably.

About two weeks before my due date my cervix was “swept” at my request and my midwife agreed based on the situation with the inexplicable rash and my increasing discomfort due to it. A sweep is defined as:

Membrane sweeping is done by your midwife or doctor. While internally examining you, he or she will simply "sweep" a finger around the neck of your womb (cervix). The aim is to separate the membranes around your baby from your cervix. This releases hormones called prostaglandins, which may kick-start your labor. A membrane sweep increases the likelihood that labor will start within 48 hours. It has a higher chance of working if the neck of your womb is already softening and preparing for labor. It does not increase the risk of infection to either you or your baby.

This is a debated topic and you will find varying opinions. My midwife told me if I am ready I will be in labor within 24 hours but she highly doubted it would work. I told her I would see her tomorrow. She laughed.

Although Little Man was due to arrive around the end of June but on June 17th I woke around 4am the day after my sweep with what we had affectionately named “The Rash” and went to the office to work. I went back to bed and woke around 9am to some back pain. Lots of back pain. Took a shower. Didn’t tell Daddy yet. More pain. Sit. Stand. Walk. Told Daddy. Three minutes apart! Called my midwife at the hospital. This is where I have to remind Daddy’s grandmother that not all midwives work in the woods; some work in hospitals with doctors. I will not delivery this baby on newspaper in a box.

Patty tells me to call later if still in pain. I was at her office within an hour. The hour included me crying and trying to eat jello; then I remembered in birthing class they said one symptom of labor is nausea. Regular back pain, check. Nausea, check. Get to the hospital and get examined. I was only dilated to a 2 and 70% effaced. I was told to go home. You. Have. To. Be. Kidding. Get in the car. Hit the dash with each knife twist in my lower back. I thought labor pains were supposed to move? At home darling Daddy hurries to get work done; thank God we work together at home. Daddy gets work done and pack the bags. The day includes more crying, sitting on the birthing ball, leaning on counters and watching the clock. Still three minutes apart. By 5pm I am done; this cannot go on. We are at the hospital by 5:30. I am checked in and this is where it gets a little fuzzy. I am still only dilated to about a 2 and 70%; I am not progressing.

I am admitted and begin to vomit. A nurse comes in to give me an IV of anti-throw up meds. She must have been a new nurse; how many times can you poke me arm. I was a little cranky at this point and when the “IV specialist” comes in I asked “can you get it in one try?”. I was kind of kidding. Kind of. I hear one of the nurses say to another under her breath that vomiting usually does not occur until you are further dilated….ok…you girls hear me yet? This baby is ready I don’t care how wide the door is, he is knocking.

What seems like hours pass and Patty finally arrives. She only has one other patient tonight in the room next to me so she will be hopping back and forth. For those that do not know about midwives let me tell you this. They are fabulous. When we moved to Florida in 2004 I needed a new OBGYN. I was referred to a particular office that had OBs and Midwives and chose an OB. After all I need a “doctor”. I soon learned that one particular midwife delivered about 90% of all children in my neighborhood…and there were a lot of kids in this hood of 1400 homes. I had the opportunity to switch to the midwives and took it. Thank god. More on Patty in a bit.

Patty arrives and I ask here where in the hell she has been. She laughed because she knows how funny I am. I did not laugh. Epidural Man arrives after Daddy heads to get the bags from the car. Daddy later tells me he kind of planned it that way; he was not sure he could watch. It took a few attempts to get the epi in my back; I guess I was not cooperating. Epi man gave me a little motivation when he said “honey, this is your last chance, I have other patients I need to tend you so if you want this you better bend over”. I did. I instantly felt like I was back at my sister’s first wedding on the beach in Puerto Rico…dos curevos frio por favor!”

Still not progressing. I am informed they need to break my water. A little discomfort and suddenly I have wet the bed; please change my sheets. Watch and wait. Time passes. Patty tells me I will know when it is time. Here we go let’s push. Either I wasn’t doing it right or Little Man wasn’t ready, after pushing for about an two hours we still weren’t progressing. Patty instructed me to take a break and try again in a few minutes. I am later told that after two hours of pushing with an OB I would have been taken for a C-section; thank you midwifery! I took a little siesta while Daddy and Patty talked for 45 minutes! Remember when I said midwives are awesome? Patty was with us the whole time! She talked with us, rubbed my back with essential oils, played music, dimmed the lights and encouraged me. I wake and realize that it was not time to push earlier, it is now.

I am starting to appreciate the fact that I worked out up until the last week of pregnancy; I am not sure I could have pushed that long without the site up improvement. It took Little Man 5 hours of pushing to come out. That is why you had back labor mama! He was sunny side up! Silly boy. Here comes my cone headed boy. Patty puts a cap on him so I don’t see what looks like a Dan Akroyd in the Cone People skit on SNL. 7.9 lbs and tons of red hair (that will soon turn on me to blonde) have arrived. We laugh, we cry, and we call our nationwide network of family. He is here!

Lee Memorial Hospital in Ft. Myers is awesome. We were taken to our private recovery suite with bed for Daddy and Jacuzzi tub. I am wired. Can’t sleep. We keep Little Man with us at all times. I nurse and sleep. Nurse and cuddle. Reality sets in. It is Friday and we run our own business. Daddy plops the laptop on the bed desk; charge the cards mama, we have to pay for this somehow! I am watching Little Man sleep while I e-mail some of our distributors; what are you doing they say you just had a baby! I know but I can’t sleep and probably never will again. I am filled with joy and anxiety. Almost three years later I still am.

We take Little Man home on a sunny summer day in Florida. He left the hospital a little jaundice and did not improve when we got home. I stopped nursing because he just wasn’t eating. You have to poop the biliruben out bud; better start eating! Back to the hospital after a few days so he can get a tan in the bili bed. Feelings of regret; should I not have asked to be swept? No time for that, there will be plenty of time to second guess my parenting in the years to come.



The Van Zant song below was playing on our radio when we took G home…appropriate.

I was raised on the westside shanty town
I didn't get up until the sun went down
When your back's against the wall
You better get tough
You learn real quick how to swing and duck.

Chorus:I was born in the sweet hot Florida sunshine
Good lookin' women backwoods and moonshine
Learned more about life on the streets then in the school
My sweet mama didn't raise no fool. (That's right.)

Some folks cheat and some folks lie
But I can judge a man from the look in his eye
Don't hand me Jack and try to call it cola
I know the difference between shit and shinola.

Chorus:I was born in the sweet hot Florida sunshine
Good lookin' women backwoods and moonshine
Learned more about life on the streets then in the school
My sweet mama didn't raise no fool. (That's right.)
(I'm talking about mama, oh sweet mama.)

Mama was no angel but she taught me right from wrong
She knew every single word and every single note of every song
She taught me how to gamble, how to roll the dice
If it makes you feel good do it don't think twice.

Chorus:I was born in the sweet hot Florida sunshine
Good lookin' women backwoods and moonshine
Learned more about life on the streets then in the school
My sweet mama didn't raise no fool. (That's right.)

Chorus:I was born in the sweet hot Florida sunshine
Good lookin' women backwoods and moonshine
Learned more about life on the streets then in the school
My sweet mama didn't raise no fool. (That's right.)

Talkin' about my sweet mama
Mama didn't raise no fool...