I'd put it to a vote, but just typing that paragraph made me realize how boring the last bit sounds and maybe I should just be honest about my inappropriate obsession with the wholesome state of my down-there areas during what has to be the messiest time in the female genitalia's life. (Please don't write me if you can think of another time things get so gruesome for a woman's nether regions, because I really don't have the stomach for anything grosser than my own gross right now.)
*** This is the part where you skip to the end if you would prefer to hear about meatballs and NOT about gross things women think about when faced with the messiness of childbirth.***
**Seriously, i'm not giving you any more chances or asterisks. Skip to the recipe if you know what's good for you.**
Maybe it has always been this way since the beginning of time, but these days people don't really want to hear about child birth details when they ask. When my daughter was born, people cooed at her and asked me, "How was the delivery?". And since I'm in the habit of only asking questions I want honest and thorough answers to...I obliged and told them every morsel instead of just saying "fine" or "gross" or whatever. And by the looks on their faces, you'd have thought I just showed them the part in Bambi where the mom gets shot and Bambi's running all around on his little stick legs in the forest calling-out "Mother?" and it's all quiet (in the movie and in the room where my friends and family all stood gaping/gagging).
I think it's unusual that in any other scenario involving a bed with stirrups and paper sheets draped all over it, it's TABOO for one to be unclean- but mention the fact that the woman hunched sweating and panting on top of said table is giving birth to new life- and suddenly it's oh-in-that-case let's ignore the crust and paper balls she has wadded up and clinging to the little hairs around her bajingo. She has an excuse. Lay off. I'm a doctor, I see this stuff all the time blah blah blah.
I've spent the last nine months being kind and courteous about my hygiene before going to the ob/gyn and I really would rather not tarnish my spotless reputation on this one occasion just because I'm in a hurry and/or I'm in horrible pain. I'd rather just plan for the worst than hope for the best. The only case in which a woman shouldn't be concerned/obsessed about the state of her lady-parts is one involving the birth of a baby named Jesus. And that's been done. I read the book. Well some of it, and nowhere on any of the pages I read did it say thou shall not fret over dingleberries. I do recall a cleanliness and godliness line in there somewhere, though, so THERE.
I have spent a stupid amount of time over the last few days creating every scenario that may come up involving what I am calling "so-so-sudden labor" and all the possible ways I can make myself presentable to the hospital staff with little or no time*. Yes, I do realize it typically doesn't happen so fast that I wouldn't be able to shower or do a quick spot-check before being on my way to the hospital, but my list of things to do before getting in the car on the day-of is topped with being a polite and considerate patient. Remember, I'm giving birth to a baby, not Jesus. I'd rather just plan for the worst than hope for the best.
***Now for a splendid recipe for meatball sandwiches that I stole from Rachael Ray.***
1. In a large bowl, combine the ground beef, chopped onion, 1/4 cup crushed corn chips, the egg, chili powder, 3/4 teaspoon salt and 1/4 cup water. Shape into 1-inch balls.
2. In a large saucepan, heat the olive oil over medium heat. Add the sliced onion and cook until softened, about 3 minutes. Stir in the tomatoes and the remaining 3/4 cup crushed corn chips and bring to a boil. Add the meatballs to the sauce, cover and simmer until the meatballs are cooked through, about 20 minutes. Stir in the beans and cook just until heated through, about 5 minutes.
3. Preheat the broiler. Spoon the chili meatballs and sauce into the toasted rolls, then top with the cheese. Broil until the cheese is melted, about 2 minutes.
It really is so delicious even my five point five year old loved it and she hates any food in which each of the ingredients aren't separated and presented clearly to her in the little compartments of her Dora the Explorer plate.
*(Some early ideas on that list included improvised uses of items such as paint brushes from the garage, a watering can, and a pen from the glove compartment of my car. Just call me MacGyver.)