Our Sweet Sarah Beth


Darling Little Debbie


Tuesday, July 31, 2007

Heartburn Hotel

It's been a rough couple of days. After the tree limb dismembered my windshield, I spent the next 2 days driving my sister's car, which seems to be a little low on freon.

Question. What's worse than being 8 months pregnant in the heat of the summer?

Answer. Being 8 months pregnant in the heat of the summer without air conditioning.

So we got my windshield fixed. Then the air conditioner broke in our house. I would have gone to my parents house to bask in the glory of their air conditioned goodness; however, our phone broke the same day, so I had to wait here for the AT&T man to come fix that. Repairmen are always so prompt. As the thermostat crept up to 80 degrees and beyond, I began to wonder what else might go wrong.

Then the stomach bug hit. I won't go into details there.

But listen to this. The AT&T man, when he arrived, discovered a short in our Tivo, which was causing our phone line to short out. Solution: unplug the tivo.


and miss all that murry?? I don't think so. The business calls will just have to go to voicemail. I spoke with Jack about this, and he agreed. The only logical way to handle this was to hope customers leave messages, so we can call them back after murry is over. After all, with us, customer service is and has always been #1...just behind the tivo.

Also, I've been dealing with a raging case of acid reflux/heartburn/devil's vomit-whatever you want to call it. Another wonderful side effect of the pregnant life. I had never before experienced this fabulous sensation, until about 2 months ago when it hit with a vengeance. For those of you who have never had it, consider yourself lucky. Imagine drinking a small container of, say, hydrochloric acid...then burping it up every few minutes or so for hours afterward. It's not a pleasant experience.

My new best friend has become the giant bottle of mylanta that has taken up permanent residence next to my prenatal vitamins on the bedside table. I take a giant gulp every night before bed, but the past few nights, one pre snooze gulp of mylanta, or the "chalky white power" as I have come to call it, hasn't been doing the trick. Lately, I've been getting up for a 2 am snack of the CWP (chalky white power. I shortened it.) I have almost come to enjoy the Classic Original flavor that quenches my fire.

My doctor said Mylanta

I know most of you are already familiar with my laundry list of hidden talents, including but not limited to rapping (my college girlfriends call me Murphy Lee but those who know me now prefer Easy E), juggling and entertainer extrordinaire. However, for those of you who don't know, I'm also a bit of a lyricist. Here's a poem I penned last night while trying to sleep through the devils vomit.

Lying peacefully, trying to sleep
All of a sudden, up from the deep
This burning sensation; it feels like a fire
The chalky white power is all I desire

This burning, this acid, it's all I can take
I'm thinking that dinner was a mistake
I feel it; it's rising. There's nowhere to run
This thing they call pregnancy is no longer fun

Sleep-it evades me. I can find no peace
Lying here wondering, will this never cease?
"I'm a woman; I can take it"-this myth I dispel
I'm living a nightmare in heartburn hotel.

*Author's note. The original title was actually Heartburn H-E- double hockey sticks. However, since my mother is an occasional reader, I had to PG it. I've already been in trouble for using the H word on here once before. My apologies to any and all offended parties. I will, in the future, attempt to banish the use of all foul language from my posts.


LT (and Max) said...

you're brilliant.
i'm mad at you for not calling me when you were going through all of that...i would have been happy to stay at your house waiting for the repair man! there's no need for you to be miserable.

on another note...good call about the tivo thing. how dare those people even suggest such a thing. seriously.
love the poem.

see you tomorrow!
FEEL BETTER!!! love...

Trey and Heather said...

My hope is to one day be like you,
I listen, I watch, I copy all that you do.
You make me smile, and chuckle at times.
You love Murray, can juggle; you can even rhyme.
My poem pales in camparsion to my, my dear.
forgive my weak attempt; I have failed, I fear.

Trey and Heather said...

you for sure can call me possumm, buttercup.

Trey and Heather said...

Buttercup, Go here:


Thought it might be of use.

Peace out - Possumm