Back to Work

In exactly ONE more week, I'll be seeing the end of my back to work day after 6 MONTHS and 2 WEEKS off of work. I'm probably as nervous as i was a few days prior to starting this job 2,5 years ago. But most of it all, i also wish i didn't have to go back. Don't take me wrong, it's not because i don't like my job, on the contrary, i love it, but after this massive amount of time out of it and more to the point, after 3 months spent with my little miss, i can't seem to grasp the fact that in a week's time, i won't be spending my entire days with her.

She'll be in good hands for sure. With her dad in the mornings since he works from home and with a nanny 4 afternoons a week. So yeah. We can't say we won't see her grow up because she spends 50 hours a week with a nanny. My cousin is a nanny and she told me she has a little girl about 50 hours a week. I mean seriously. I can understand you having a very busy schedule with work and so but i couldn't get myself to leave my child with someone else for more time during the week than what I'd actually spend with her. What's the point of having a child in the first place? My point of view obviously but seriously. Would that be a wake up call if the child ends up calling the nanny "mom"?

Anyways.

So yeah, back to work in a week. I know everybody is telling me that it's gonna be good for me, that I'll see other people, I'll get out of the house and the baby-caring routine 24/7. I know they're right. I know it's important to just go out there and not worry about the baby and do stuff for myself and shit. And I've done it. Left her with her grand-mother, or her dad and get going with my stuff.

But what if i don't want that? What if i wanted to stay at home to take care of my daughter and be a housewife? Given I'd be a terrible one since i hate doing chores but a house-mom. I'd like that!

I honestly never thought I'd ever say something like this. Me having kids was not a given thing to begin with but the fact that I'm happy being at home with her, wow, that's surely an entire new dimension. I was always convinced that, if i had kids one day, I'd be eagerly waiting to go back to work and be the super-wonder-working-mom. 

Well. 

Nope.

I am this complete different person now and let's be honest, becoming a parent changes you. My sole priority now is my daughter. And my family. Would i be filthy rich, or just rich enough not to have to go back, i honestly wouldn't. I know we always joked about winning the lottery and what we'd do with all that money. I've always said: I'd keep on working not to lose control over my life and keep it real but right this second, give me a check of several millions euros, i would at least take a sabbatical. 

Bottom line is: i have 2 more chances this week to become a millionaire with the national lottery. I'll play. Who knows? My wish might be granted!

Why cuddling polar bear mommy with cub? Because it's cute that's why!

Stuff No One Told Me

Or maybe they did tell me and I didn't listen. Or hear. Or pay attention. Or maybe I was stupid enough to think they exaggerated!

If I might allow myself with a little piece of advice for every first-time-mom-to-be: IT'S TRUE! Pretty much everything people tell you you'll eventually endure after giving birth is true. I agree on the fact that every pregnancy is different. As every woman's experience about giving birth is different. So I won't pretend to hold the holy answers about them all but in my experience, these are some of the few things i've heard at some point but probably decided to take them lightly. Big mistake.

- If you breathe properly, contraction's pain can be "controlled".

No. It can't. You'll feel that your body is about to burst open. And that you want it all to end. And you'll wonder why on earth did you get yourself into this in the first place. And can I get an epidural already?

- An epidural doesn't hurt.

Trust me, it does. And i'm not the sensitive to pain kind of person, i'd even say i'm pretty tough when pain is involved but an epidural hurts like motherfucking HELL. Picture a needle going into your spine for crying out loud. How can that not hurt?

It's supposed to numb the pain of the contractions but your legs don't answer your commands anymore and you might as well pee or poop right there, you wouldn't know, you don't feel shit. 

- A C-section is not a real childbirth and it doesn't hurt as bad as a natural birth.

The next person to say one of these 2 things will get hit in the face. With a hammer.

I wish a c-section on NOBODY. First of all because it is, in my opinion, the worse way of giving birth. The dad can't be there because it's surgery. You, as a mom, are completely passive and you're just enduring the birth of your child feeling completely useless.

Second of all, you don't see what's going on obviously (i don't think you'd enjoy watching the surgeon cutting you open and pulling your baby out ...) but since I asked because I wanted to know ... Once the cut is made, the surgeon put his hand inside of you to pull the baby's head towards the new exit door. Then (and i felt it even though I had an anaesthesia) he kneads your belly to pop the baby out, just like you'd do to pop a zit. Then again for the placenta. Then he'll vaccuum your insides and stitches/stapples you up.

- You'll get sick and you'll most likely puke.

You haven't eaten in AGES, you have asked for an epidural, if the birth doesn't present itself well, you'll get a rachianaesthesia on top (same as an epidural but stronger), you're tired, you're in pain and since the ob/gyn will knead your belly, you'll want to puke. Except that you can't feel your stomach contract. Except that you don't have anything in to puke. So it's like at the dentist when they tell you to spit and you can't. You're lying on your back, you can only turn your head on the side. You'll drool/vomit in your neck. It's disgusting/nasty/gross/all of the above.

- You'll lose all your dignity.

I can't tell about a natural birth but as far as I've heard, it's the same. In my case, since i had to go through recovery, I didn't get to see my baby straight away. But you're in those hospital robes, with a tube in to drain your bladder, you're bleeding from down there, you obviously haven't waxed in ages (too painful) nor shaved (first because my beautician would kill me and second because you haven't been able to reach your ladyparts in quite some time!), you can't stand so you have to pee in a bedpan, you need the help of 2 nurses to try to stand a mere 12 hours after surgery, you take a shower sitting on a stool with the door open and a nurse in your room in case you fall, you'll feel like a hundred years old walking all folded up to ease the pain and you'll let the nurse check your bleeding on the gigantic pads the hospital gives you (oh, and the net underwear you get ... glamour at its peak!)

- You'll get contractions.

You thought you were done with it? NOPE. You'll still get some AFTERWARDS. I mean seriously. Isn't it enough as it is? They're less painful than the one BEFORE but still. Contractions! For crying out loud!

- You'll produce milk.

You can take all the meds you want to cut it (if you don't want to breastfeed your baby), you might thing that you're gonna get through without enduring this but no. You're in for some kick ass pain. Your boobs, all of the sudden, are three sizes bigger than usual, they're hard as stone, they're painful as hell and they leak. Yep. It feels like you have implants good enough for shooting a porn video but they're dripping milk. You feel like a cow. Honestly. And just looking at them is painful.

However (it worked for me), putting cabbage in your bra can help decongest them and cut the milk production. Not to scare you though but i read that a woman who gave birth recently is naturally programmed to produce milk and HEARING a baby scream can stimulate the production. Being in a maternity ward, i let you imagine!

- Last but not least, you'll get tired. And stressed up but mostly tired.

And by tired, I mean EXHAUSTED. You feed your baby every 3 hours, and in between two feeds, you also have to change him/her, wait for the burp and try to get some rest as well. Needless to say that whether you're at home or still at the hospital, sleeping in slices of a couple of hours is not enough. The slightest thing to do becomes an insurmountable task, you'll cry a tremendous lot because you're desperate for some sleep and some rest, you'll lose your temper, you'll feel guilty like hell about it, you'll want the baby to go to hell for a few hours just so you can rest, you'll feel guilty about having such thoughts. And you'll stress up and worry about everything. Is the baby hot? cold? hungry? is the diaper full? is it the right color? is she eating enough? too much? is a burp not out and hurting her tummy? is she tired? how can i get rid of her hick-up? why is she squeaking? does she need a pacifyer? can she breathe properly? how do i clean her nose? can she finally fall asleep so i can sleep as well?

I'll finish up with just one more thing: it's worth it. It's totally worth is. It's normal to feel helpless and oh so tired. But seeing your baby smile and make faces, grab your finger in her tiny hands, open her eyes wide to see and discover the world around her or simply watching your baby sleep makes it all worth it.

Don't hesitate to talk to friends who had babies, to ask stupid questions, to reach out for help with the simplest things. Leave the baby with the dad or the grand-parents for a little while, even if it's just for 20 minutes and go for a walk, or take a bath or make yourself a nice cup of your favorite coffee, read a book in front of the fireplace or take a quick nap. It'll make a world of a difference in your day. 

Thousands and thousands of moms around you have been through this. You can do it.

Pregnancy and Childbirth From Hell

So how are you? How did it go? Everything went well?

NO.

Not in the slightest way my delivery or even my pregnancy went well. 

The look on people's face when you answer a big fat no to "did the delivery go well?" ... Priceless.

Why on earth is that everybody assumes that because your baby is finally here and that you're finally back home that everything went well. Honestly, NOTHING went well. Nothing at all.

And no, it's not because i am indeed finally home with my beautiful baby girl that I'm gonna forget all the bad things that happened to me prior. Hell no I'm not gonna forget. I'll move on, yes, but I won't forget. And there is a very good reason to this: this is how my daughter's life started. 

My pregnancy got cut short. And thank god it did. It's been a very difficult first trimester, not because i was sick or nauseous or any of the classic inconveniences you can face at the beginning of a pregnancy but simply because I had that massive black cloud of my miscarriage hovering above me. During the second trimester, we were told that the baby was too small for its age, so there were the plethora of exams and check-ups and this and that. I was going to the hospital at least once a week.

And for the icing on the cake ... Last trimester ... Baby still small, i should get an ultrasound a week as well as two monitorings a week. By week 33 (which for us, was week 31 and a half but let's not dwell on that), i got told that they'll most likely induce labor between week 34 and week 36.

Since the baby was doing just fine (no kidding), they decided to wait just a few days short of week 37. 

It was a Thursday afternoon. Since the baby was small (estimated weight of 2kg then), they decided to go through all 4 steps of "smooth" labor: 

- the balloon first (inserted inside in order to detach the water sack from the cervix), set for 24h

- the "plug" - looks like a tampon that diffuses hormones in order to accelerate labor and trigger contractions ... Another 24h.

- an hormonal gel (same job as the tampon) ... 6h

- and last but not least, in the delivery room, with an IV to stimulate the contractions hence accelerating the distention of the cervix.

I went in the delivery room at 3pm on the Sunday. My man slept on the floor on Friday night and on our inflatable mattress on Saturday night. Needless to say, he was pretty much in the same state of exhaustion than i was. 

11pm or so, on Sunday, i got the epidural. It was a disaster. The anaesthetist was scaring me, the nurse was a bitch. I was losing it. I was exhausted, i was scared, Bruno couldn't be with me, tears were rolling down my eyes uncontrolably, I was shaking so bad from all the tension that was packing on for the past 4 days that it took for freaking ever. Or so it seemed.

Except that nothing went as planned after that. At around 1am, as they were increasing the dose i was getting in the IV, the baby's heart rate dropped. As the midwife said, talking about the baby: "she just made the decision for us".

She couldn't take it anymore. I was gonna get a c-section.

I couldn't stop crying.

After all we'd been through, i would be a lone spectator at my delivery. Bruno wouldn't be able to be there since i was going for surgery. I wasn't gonna participate nor see anything since they cut you open and it all happens behind a curtain.

I was struggling not to fall asleep. I wanted to puke so bad. I couldn't feel my right arm. I was scared. I wanted to be over with. I wanted to sleep.

I got to see my baby for a split second before they took her to the pediatrician. All i saw of her was that she had hair. I stayed on the table for another 15 minutes or so, just for them to get the placenta out, vaccuum my insides and close me up. 

The surgeon apologized a few time that he had to cut right in the middle of my pelvis tattoo. I couldn't care less to be honest. But i thought it was nice of him to feel sorry about ruining my tat'. 14 stapples later (and who knows how many stitches inside), i went to the recovery room for 3 never-ending hours, dying to be with my baby and my man. 

Best moment of it all: when i got to have her on my chest. I could have stayed like that for ages. But all good things have an end ...

I spent another week in the hospital. It was hard, i cried a lot since again, i was pretty much on my own most of the time (Bruno spent all the time he could with me but he had to go back to work and since the hospital is not very arranging for the new dads ...). And the nerves got the best of me ... After all i endured, i just couldn't take much more any more. The nursery nurses offered to take my baby for the night so i could rest. I cried my eyes out in guilt but truly appreciated to get a 7hrs straight night. 

Long story short, we're finally back home. All together like the family we now are. We do as we see fit for our baby girl. Maternal instinct kicked in and with a baby, you just know what is best for her. She's a very good baby. Quiet. Calm. And to all the people who keep on telling us "it won't last", i tell them: SCREW YOU. After all we've been through, we deserve to have some peace of mind and a quiet baby. You might have had a terrible few months with yours but you most likely didn't have to endure what we had to. So instead of being jealous of what we enjoy now, wish us the best instead!

So after a total of 14 ultrasounds, 27 monitorings, 72 hours of labor inducing techniques, 9 hours in the delivery room, it's by c-section that our beautiful baby girl Lucie was born, on Halloween.

I Contradicted A Doc

I don't know if you fathom the extend of such a sentence and act. I actually told a doctor that i disagreed with his diagnosis!

To be clearer, i disagree with my gynecologist's start date of my pregnancy hence my supposed due date and therefore, that my baby is not in the norm size-wise.

Needless to say that in order to actually speak out and tell him/her that you think (s)he actually made a mistake, you have to use a massive amount of tact. Medical staff don't like regular folks like myself telling them: sorry, not sorry, i don't agree with that.

As i mentionned it in an earlier post, my still in-utero baby is small. She's growing well so far but she's under the regular line of growth. Docs are estimating that she's between 10 and 15 days late. It's nothing you'll say, just like i thought as well, except that on a span of 9 months, it's quite a fair amount of time. Except that i disagree with them all on the starting of the pregnancy date. MY date being at least a week later than their. Actually between 7 and 10 days later than what they calculated. 

Obviously, pregnancy, conception times and due dates are not exact science unless you've had an IVF which wasn't my case. 

I mentionned it a few times to the many docs i've seen so far but i never felt heard. So i was like, yeah, well, whatever, i know they're off by at least a week, i'm not gonna worried about this all "too small" thing.

Except that i am tired. I'm exhausted. I could sleep pretty much all day and having to go back and forth to the hospital for monitoring the baby and ultrasound at least once if not twice a week is draining the little energy i have left out of me.

So when i saw my ob/gyn last Monday, i told myself, i HAVE to tell him that i disagree with him, i HAVE to get that load off of my shoulder and maybe, just maybe, he'll realize that yes, my baby is indeed a tiny baby but she's in between the regular growth lines and just fine.

Deep breath.

I used all my ingenuity and tact to tell him just that. I was actually pretty happy with the way it came out. And i was even happier with the way he reacted. He listened to me, double checked his measures and calculation, entered the measurements he did that day along with MY estimated date (8 days later than his) and printed the growth graph. 

And guess what?

It changed nothing. 

NOTHING.

DAMN IT.

The baby is still smaller than what she'd expected to be at the age she has. Whether she's 30 or 31 weeks old, she's still too small.

Which means that i'll still get monitored most likely every week until the end of my pregnancy, that i'll still get to see a ob/gyn every other week and even with all these precautions, i'll still most likely get a tiny baby. 

What worries me now? That she actually stops growing and that they have to trigger the birth a lot earlier than planned. Which might happen actually. 

Or she's just a happy go lucky tiny baby who has her mom already worrying for nothing!

End of it all, you should always say what you have weighing on your heart. It might not change the outcome of the situation but in my case, it surely eased my concerns that the hospital might do with me and my baby something that is not necessary. As i said, in my situation, it doesn't change much. But at least i've unloaded this off of my shoulders.

And it felt good.

No, No and No

I'm pregnant. Scratch that. I'm very pregnant. And by very pregnant i mean that i am finishing my 6th month of pregnancy so needless to say, i can't pretend no more that i'm not. It shows. It bloody well shows. Politician belly, porn star boobs, the balance of a new born calf and the swollen limbs of a hippopotamus. Sexiness in all its glory.

Maybe it looks beautiful on the outside but the feeling ain't beautiful whatsoever. I feel bloated, i huff and puff after climbing up a flight of stairs, it takes me an hour to recover from vacuuming my bedroom, i can't find a decent position to sleep, my gums are bleeding every time i brush my teeth, my belly button is about to pop out (gasp) and my bladder is the size of a nut. On the plus side, so is my stomach (the size of a nut) so i'm extremely quickly satiated. Extremely quickly hungry again but oh well.

I'm not gonna go through the entire load of details that my pregnancy has been so far. My baby isn't in the norm size-wise so needless to say i had to endure quite a fair amount of extra exams to make sure it's normal (physically and genetically) and growing. Long story short, it's a little girl and she's just that: little. A perfectly healthy tiny little baby girl. 

What the doctors at both hospitals i'm followed up at don't know because they don't want to listen is that their supposed conception date is wrong. It's a least a week off. 

Estimated conception time: February 27th.

Nope.

I can tell you it's definitely not that day that our little shrimp was made. 

Nope.

100% sure of that.

But anyways. Norms, norms and more norms. Get out of them and there are protocols to be followed and there i was with blood testing and amniocentesis and ultrasound every 2 weeks and so on.

She's fine. My baby's fine. She's alive and kicking. Oh yeah. She is so very much kicking all the time. That's one thing i actually like about pregnancy. When you feel the baby kicking.

But the point of that post today was about my belly. Read that again. I wrote MY belly. I didn't write "the" belly, i didn't write "a" belly, i wrote MY belly. Because it is just that. It's mine. And mine only. 

WHY ON FREAKING EARTH is that people think that because you're pregnant, your belly becomes public domain. Why is that when people greet you, they think it's appropriate to rub your belly? Do you rub the belly of a guy? Do you rub someone's anything apart from a pregnant belly? 

No you don't.

For crying out loud it is so freaking intrusive. I HATE IT.

Oh hi, how is the baby? Bam, belly rub. The baby is not gonna answer you, not now, not for another few years actually and less of it all when it's still inside the womb. Why don't you rub my man's package while you're at it? It did half the job after all!

I asked the question to several of my friends who've had children already and they all experienced the same thing. Some of them told me stuff that are plain dreadful! I swear i will never touch the belly of a pregnant woman unless invited to do so (and even though, i still think it's a weird thing to do), just like i won't ask people why don't they have kids yet (you never know what they might have been through) and personal stuff like these.

People have no concept of private space.

I might be getting a tad paranoid but every time i meet someone, i hold my hands in front of my stomach. When they try to do the belly rub but find my hands instead, it's like instant back off. It's like my hands are burning them. And it's awesome because that's exactly what i'm trying to do: to make them back off of me without actually being rude. 

If you have any other tips to prevent that from happening, considering it's still blazing hot so we're all only wearing a few items of clothing, i'm all ears!

Oh My

It's been so long it's embarrassing. The reason behind it is quite simple it's mainly laziness. OK, it's purely laziness. It's not like nothing happens to me that isn't worth writing about but i don't know, it's a massive struggle for me. I have to do violence to myself to do whatever requires an effort. Even if it's something i actually enjoy. Writing is something i truly enjoy but just the thought of connecting to my blog, writing something and publishing it, oh my, massive amount of laziness.

I wish i had the self-discipline a friend of mine has writing in her blog twice a week every single week of the year. The same self-discipline my man shows to exercise every day of the week. I wish i had that will power but let's be honest, at almost 40 years old, it's most likely not gonna change any time soon.

So here it is for the little apologetic post. And off i am to writing a few more!

See the reason behind it all? SEE?

I Can Clip My Nails Again!

I can also put toothpaste on my toothbrush, i can cut my meat with a knife, i can drive my car, i can tie my shoelaces and attach my bra. No big deal you're gonna say. WRONG. It is a HUGE deal. Don't ever take these amazing abilities of yours for granted. 

You might remember that at the begining of July, i lost a wheel in the field hence couldn't continue on working the land and went back to give a hand to the Boss and my colleague in installing a sewage system. That's when i took the "give a hand" a tad too literally. Long story short, my hand got poked by a 1.2 tons tank against a sharp piece of metal while we were bringing down said tank into the hole we just dug.

Excruciating pain, profuse bleeding, during the fraction of second it took me to grab my hand and actually looking at it, i was convinced i had only the thumb left on my left hand. When i didn't see any finger on the floor and that they were actually all still attached to my hand i couldn't help but feel a massive relief. 

It's amazing the amount of blood that pumps out of a hand. I mean it'd give Old Faithful a run for its money. The couple we were working for rushed to me with a paper towel in which i wrapped my hand not to have their kitchen look like we've just sacrificed an entire cattle of pigs to whichever god. 

Put my hand under the tap, saw the damage, knew for sure that i need quite a fair amount of stitches and that i needed to go to the ER stats. 

The amazing thing with the ER is that if you're actually dying, well, you'll probably die waiting. I waited for an hour before someone came pick me up to check on me. The pain was tolerable but my middle finger and my index were getting numb and that was worrying me.

I had my hand dipping in some antibacterial liquid for a good 30 minutes before a doctor came to see me. Since the wound was deep, he told me he'd anaesthetize my hand. I swear to god, when he put the needle in my hand, it was like he was hiting me with an ice pick. All the pain i wasn't feeling up until now shot out and i honestly screamed. I'm normally pretty strong before pain but damn, that one was insane.

He dug in, noticed that it was super deep and told me, you need to see a specialist.

Following day, met the specialist of the hand at a clinic, he saw the wound, touched it a little, i jumped, he said: we're keeping you for the day. 

DAMN IT.

Anaesthesia second round, needle in the armpit to numb the entire arm. I don't know what kind of needle they use for anaesthesia but hot damn, are they painful.

Went in for surgery with a very nice and laid-back surgeon and staff in the OR, he told me that i had missed both the nerves and the tendons. Hold on, let me get back and finish the job.

8 stitches and quite a few hours later, i was back home. Alle-freaking-luia.

2 forced weeks off-work. A nurse coming to change the bandage every 2 days. Middle finger still numb but got the use of my hand back a couple of days ago. Now i can tie my shoelaces. Even though i know i'm using my middle finger, i still have no idea what it's doing!

Stitches are getting off on Friday. I can't wait. I'm dying to go back to work as well which is unfortunately unlikely since the wound is so fresh and in such a delicate part. Being stuck at home is depressing.

Hopefully, some good news are around the corner. I mean i went to the ER twice and through 2 surgeries in 3 weeks, i'm starting to feel like i've had my share of bad news, i could do with some good ones. I promise if i win €45 million at the lottery this week end, i'll stop whining.

Oh No, Not Again!

It's harvest time! I missed it last year cuz i wasn't working there yet and i missed it this year cuz well, i had to call in sick. DAMN IT. But anyway, the day i got back to work, i was sent back in the fields with my tractor to start preparing the land of newly harvested fields. And off i was. 

A lot of people i know don't like being in the fields, working the land with a tractor cuz generally, you're going super slow. For this particular work I'm doing, I'm going 5km/h. Needless to say it's gonna take me for fucking ever to do a 17 hectares field but i don't care. Drawing lines in a field has this amazingly soothing feeling for me. I'm focusing on the lines, not thinking about much else and i drains any bad thoughts from my mind.

At some point, i was making it back to a place where i had to skim the neighbor's field when i saw this big slice of un-worked land ... My first thought was: wow, was i this bad the first time, passing this far from the neighbor's field's edge? I mean it was a good 6 meters wide and I knew i hadn't been that far off. Right at that very second, i saw a massive harvester pulling out of the wheat's field. 

Security scream (as my colleague calls it!). And off i was again, minding my own business!

A short time later, i heard an unfamiliar sound/noise as i was making a U-turn in the field. I turned around and i was like: holy crap, I've lost a wheel!

I was cartoon-like, when the driver loses a wheel and he sees it going its own way rolling away. Took me a few meters to stop and contemplate the "work".

CRAP.

Called the Boss, told him that, hum, well, i had lost a wheel. He started to ask me about mechanical shit and i was like, i don't know any of that: the wheel is unattached to the trailer it's supposed to be on, nothing seems broken, please come help me!

Verdict: bearings are DEAD. We'll have the new ones in 3 days.

Well, i guess i ain't working in there for the rest of the week then. Booo.

Does this kinda thing only happen to me? I mean, seriously? I've pretty much been on the spot for every breaking there's been with agricultural equipment ... (** sighs **) Maybe once I've had broken every single one of them at least once, I'll be able to work properly! One can only hope!

It's Been Forever

It's been almost 6 months without me writing a single word in there and i won't make an apology because there are no other reason than me being lazy. I always have tons of stuff to write about cuz let's be honest, i have this amazing ability to attract the crazy, the unusual, the odd and the fantastic. 

So even though this ain't an apology for being a lazy ass, it's a little note to let you know that, well, i'm back! So buckle up and get ready!

My Problems Are Not Yours

It's not that nobody ever has the same kind of problems that i DO have, it's just that my job implies problems that not every John Doe has. As you might know by now, my current job is actually divided in 3 parts: working the land, cleaning septic tanks and installing septic tanks (with all the civil engineering works involved). 

A few days ago, we had to plow some of our fields. It's that time of the year when you have inspectors checking that you've done what needs to be done at the time it has to be done so Anthony and I were both on our respective tractors and doing lines in the same field. The problem there was that day was that the soil was so very much in love with the tractor and my feet it made massive sticky blocks everywhere. So i had to stop every other line to scrape the dirt out (took forever to take it off my shoes because, as usual, i only take my boots when my regular working shoes are either soaking wet or covered in so much dirt i feel like i'm actually walking 50cm off the ground). 

Needless to say that we had some serious cleaning to do afterwards. Took me 2 hours to see the axletree of my tractor again!!

and you haven't see what it looked like from the back!

I don't know who invented the Karsher (a high-pression water hose) but it is an awesome invention. A very splashy invention but a great one nonetheless. Even if i had to use a hook, a pickaxe and my own hands to get rid of it all, let's be honest, the Karsher did a lot of the tedious job. But damn, i was covered in dirt from head to toes. With the misty rain to accompany me, it was one heck of a job to do. I was drained when i was done. Literally! 

But today was the apotheosis of my working day. For the first time ever, this morning, i got sent ALONE to empty a couple of septic tanks. It went pretty well to be honest, even though moving all those sucking pipes is heavy. I got to drive the shit truck on my own, did the hoovering, did the oohing and aahing with the pipes, even wrote the bills and the certificates. But what do you do when your truck is full? Well you go to the shityard to empty said truck.

That was the second time i was doing it on my own. But man, what a second time it was.

Not entering all the details of how to unload a truck full of shit in a gigantic tank, i can at least say that things need to be done in a certain order. And when you don't follow that order, well, shit happens. And damn did it happen.

When i opened the valve, it was Shitty Yellowstone Old Faithful in all its splendor. I got drenched in shit in a split second. It was phenomenal. It was spectacular. It was so amazing that i took a picture of my misery (after taking a second to get rid of my waterproof (but not shit-proof) vest).

obviously, the phone got some too!

Anthony laughed, my boss laughed and sent me home, my boyfriend didn't think it was funny and kept on complaining about how much i stunk. I took 3 showers: one fully dressed to rinse most of my clothes, and 2 after that and i still feel i'm stinky. It feels like that crap has gone right up into my earrings holes and every single one of my pores! 

This is the kind of magical thing that happens to you ONCE. Not twice, not 3 times, just that one time and i swear to god it's never gonna happen to me again. Order is a tall order now!

But you know what? I still think my life is awesome. Shitty for some part, but awesome nonetheless!

How was YOUR shitty day?

Poetic Justice

I have been on training for a month now and it's finally over. I probably won't be using any of what i've learnt but it was a mandatory training, with an exam at the end so i thought, to hell with this, might as well enjoy the ride and learn something. And i did. There were 15 of us, of which i was naturally the only girl but i met some very cool people with whom i intend to stay in touch. 

I don't like venal people. Or people who just do things because they can get something out of it. I'm not saying i've never done that once in a while but i don't think i can ever truly trust someone who just live that way, 100% of his/her time. And since i was amongst the oldest people during that training, i was somehow shocked of how venal younger folks can be these days. It's all about the money. How much you make, how much you can get from this or that, not doing anything selflessly.

But more than just that greedy behavior of some of the group, i was also shocked (and profoundly annoyed) by their rudeness. They show absolutely no respect to the tutor or the rest of the group, constantly talking (not even lowering their voice), making inadequate comments, arriving late every day, always asking the tutor to repeat because they didn't bother to listen, even sleeping on the table without the slightest care in the world. I could have smacked them.

One of them in particular. So when one day, he decided that sitting next to me in the afternoon was the best thing he could come out with, i was fuming inside. I tolerated him two days before i actually told the tutor that, please, tell him something or i will and it'll be ugly. He did. But it didn't work. Mostly because that piece of shit didn't give an effing damn. 

So i took matters in my own hands. And i told him, just like that: would you please shut the fuck up for at least 5 minutes? It's annoying, it's distracting and more to the point, it prevents me from actually listening to the tutor. I don't give a flying fuck if you don't want to listen but i do so shut up.

Obviously, i said it out loud, not whispering at all and there was this heavy "i-can-hear-a-fly-passing-by" silence in the room and everybody was listening to me having this massive go at him. And funnily enough, most of them were smiling at me, daring to actually say something.

It's easy to complain about things and people. But if there isn't anybody to do or say something, then it's completely useless.

On Friday, we had the test with which we'd qualified as commercial truck drivers. He didn't pass. Karma is a bitch darling. I know i shouldn't be happy but awww, the sweet poetic justice of it all ... made me swoon.

And because i'm allowed to show off a bit ... i came out 2nd. 

This Is A Man's World

And it would be nothing without a woman or a girl. Or so he said. Truth is, there are some trades that are not made for women. Or short guys. And strangely enough, i've just started one just like that. No kidding! (do you honestly think i would bother write about something i haven't experienced myself? Of course not, that's the entire purpose of that blog in the first place!!)

I work the land. I also drain and clean septic tanks. If you still see (less and less) women in the agriculture world, they are a lot scarcer in my other job. And even though you still encounter women who work the land, we still have to face those stereotypes that are stuck in people's head: a woman in agriculture? she must be ugly, or fat, or both, submissive to her husband, not feminine at all and uneducated. 

Jeeez, where to start?

I'm not gonna defend myself on it all, i honestly don't care what people might think. I don't consider myself ugly, nor fat, let alone submissive and i have 2 degrees (which are, in all honesty, completely useless for what i do now for a living). But i'd like to talk about the feminine aspect of it.

For my new jobs, needless to say that i needed some adapted clothing. Cuz i wouldn't be using my regular everyday jeans or shoes knowing i would either be in the fields, in shit holes (literally) and doing some mechanics hence lying on questionably clean floors. 

So i went to the store which sell such clothing and shoes (amongst tools, construction material, paint and so on). And i have a few questions to ask all those people convinced that women doing men's jobs don't look feminine or pretty while working: 

- How can you possibly look good in men's clothes? 

- How do you look feminine wearing a trouser that is 2 sizes above your own? 

- How do you walk like you own the place when your safety shoes are also 2 sizes above your own? 

- How do you look good with clothes that are stained with grease that doesn't wash off in the washer? 

- How can you smell good when you spread chicken shit in your fields? 

- How can your hands look like you've just come out of a French manicure when you have to change the tire of a 15 tons truck or dig in the engine to get something fixed?

You can't.

But man or woman, you'll be happy to find your favorite bread at the bakery made with the cereals we planted and harvested, or eating your t-bone from the cow that ate those same cereals, and probably even happier to see the back of us once your septic tank is finally emptied and it doesn't smell like hell's broken loose in your kitchen and bathroom.

End of it all, does it matter what we look? 

There's a job to be done and that's all there is.

PS: and that makes me able to say that I am the one wearing the pants!

I love being a girl. And i love my masculine job. But why should i stop the glamour when i'm in my tractor? Girl power in the tractor! LOL.

I Nap Everyday

So i've started a new job. I love it. But damn right it's tiring. 

The other day, 3pm, in the middle of a field, behind the wheel of a tractor and i was seriously dozing. I thought, crap, this isn't good. I mean, it's less dangerous than on a road or if i was driving a trailer truck but still, it's not good anyway.

When i mentioned it to my man, he told me, well, take a quick nap when you come back home on your lunch break. And i thought, pfff, what's the point, for a me, a nap is at least 1 hour and a half long so i won't have time for that. Morevoer, it makes me grumpy ! And he said, no, you need to take a power nap. 20-30 min max. 

I was hyper skeptical. How can i possibly fall asleep, rest and wake up and be on the go in 30 minutes? 

Well i did it. Went to my bedroom, took off my working clothes, set the alarm for 1:30pm and fell asleep in the blink of an eye and slept like a log. For 20 minutes. It changed my afternoon. My life. And my perception of naps.

A power nap is repairing. I start my afternoon shift all pumped up and reloaded for what awaits me. I always try to leave work on time (at noon) so i have time to eat without rushing and take a nap. 

I never thought i'd ever nap without feeling groggy and/or bitchy. I'd never thought i'd nap at all!! But it's something i enjoy every day. It's something i believe i actually NEED every day.

Who knew i'd become the napping type!

I Weight 72kg

Trust me, it came as a shock for me too. I was sick last week so i went to the doctor and naturally, he asked me to step on the scale. And BAM, 72kg. My first thought was, his scale is completly wrong, it can't be accurate, no freaking way i weight 10 more kilos than 6 months ago. And since i was visiting my parents just a few days later, i hopped on their scale, just to check (up until that week end, i didn't own a scale). And BAM, 71.3kg. On their other scale, 71kg. Right out of bed, with no food in and after the mandatory morning bathroom stop.

HOLY. MOTHER. FUCKING. CRAP.

It's just a number, it's just a number, it's just a number. I have to convince myself it's just a number. Cuz end of it all, it is. Just a number i mean.

My mother is OBSESSED with my weight. I've never been thin, never been fat either. I'm just naturally well built, with meat on my bones and a fair enthousiasm when it comes to eating. But i do sports. And honestly, i do quite a fair bit every week. I do 30 minutes of crossfit 5 days a week and i walk a good 15km (if not more) distributing all my publicity. I eat well, and by well i mean well-balanced, i don't drink sodas, i don't eat junk food, i have the occasional piece of chocolate, i don't put too much sugar in my tea and i don't eat like a dog. But still, my mom thinks i need to watch my weight.

Well you know what? This is the heaviest i've ever been in my entire life. Yet, this is the best i've felt in my entire life. I do have a little belly i could do without but i've never been stuckier, firmer and fitter than i am right now. I feel good in my own skin, i like what i see in the mirror, i'm happier than i've been in a long time and i have more energy than most people half my age. So yeah, the number on the scale is just that: a number. And i'm not gonna let anybody making me believe i need to go on a diet cuz i don't. Not even you, mother.

Now if you allow me, i'll go indulge on a piece of chocolate :P

Shut Up And Give Whatever You Got

I have been crossfitting for just over 4 months now and even though I saw the changes on my back and arms spectacularly quickly at first, the changes I was so looking forward to see on my hips, thighs and stomach have yet to show up. I have now reached a plateau and I don't know how long it's gonna take for me to see any more changes. Obviously, going to my parents or my in-laws every second week-end is NOT helping (they tend to stuff ourselves every time with gigantic but delicious meals!!)

What I really like about crossfit is that it's not a competition. Well, it is for some people but for normal folks like myself it's not. Well, it is. But not against someone. It's against my own worst enemy, a.k.a. MYSELF. It's about finding the time but above all, the WILL to do it and outdoing yourself. And that, for me, is the hardest.

My man is also my coach. And let's be honest, if he hadn't pushed me at the beginning, I would never have gone that far. I don't need his cheering to get off of the couch anymore. He still does my program but I find my own willpower to get in my outfit and give my all. I believe that's the hardest to deal with. Finding the willpower to START. Once you've began, it goes down easily. Well, some days more than others!!!

My motivation is the picture I built of what i'll look like some time in a (close I hope) future. And THIS, is gonna be me soon:

When I do squats, I picture this:

When I do abs, I picture this:

When I do push ups or bench press, I picture this:

Trust me. It's a hell of a motivational silent speech.

But let's be honest. I do it 5 days a week for a maximum of 30 minutes a day. And most of the time, my actual workout doesn't go over 15 minutes. The rest is for stretching. I've done it in the morning, I've done it in the evening. Sometimes, I had to DRAG myself out of my comfy sweat pants or PJ to do it but I've always done it. And I've never regretted it. Even the days I was feeling heavy, or sick, or exhausted, I did my workout. Slowly but surely. The competition is only against yourself. I've read before that it takes 4 weeks for you to notice your body changing and 12 weeks for the rest of the world to notice it. I'd say it takes 4 weeks to get used to it and 12 weeks to get addicted to it. After 17 weeks, I don't question it anymore, I do it because it has to be done.

And I love every second of it.