Survival of the Fittest

I don't know how women have babies "naturally".  Seriously.  I'm not kidding.  At all. 

Like if the epidural didn't exist, and we HAD to give birth in the fields naturally (ie: screaming obscenities, and writhing with pain induced seizures), and then head back out to the field to bury the placenta, and shuck some more corn for dinner, I'm sorry.  If it was up to me, there would be no human population left.

My hat is OFF to women who push out an 8 pound baby without the body numbing help of modern medicine.  Personally, I have always been so damn scared of how painful labor could become, I never get the hospital past like 4 cm...legitimate enough to be in "active" labor, but early enough to call the Anesthesiologist at the first inkling of real pain.  I like to trick myself into believing that I could handle it...all 10 cm, you know, my body opening into a crevasse the size of a begal, so I could birth someone's HEAD, followed by their entire BODY.  But who am I kidding?   Poor Tom.  I don't even want to see his reaction if I had no meds.  Oh my stars.

So as far as survival of the fittest is concerned, I would totally lose this match.

We used to have 3 rabbits, now we have 2.  What happened, you ask?  Well, Henry was a biter.  And I don't use that term lightly.  Before having him neutered, he would mount the other male bunny, and just ride him...well...sort of like an inmate.  We thought for sure, having his manhood removed, would chill him out.  No can do.  Henry continued to bite...everyone, and everything.  And I'm not talking about little nips here.  I'm talking, flesh hanging from the palm of your hand type injuries.  When going out to feed the bunnies, the girls had resorted to donning Ugg boots that reached thigh level, to shield them from an attack.  The last straw came the day, I heard Cosette screaming from the backyard...we didn't have any Uggs in her size.

That's it!  I thought.  This bunny is gonna meet his maker.  "Girls," I calmly, but assuredly stated, "Henry is going to be let free today.  I'm sure he will find a nice home, amongst other savage animals in the wild."  And so Tom loaded up the girls, and drove to a hill with a creek near our home.  "If Henry is strong enough, he will survive just fine out here," Tom explained to the girls.  Secretly, I hoped, that as soon as our truck had driven out of sight, a huge HAWK would swoop down, and... a girl can dream, can't she?

Playing on any organized team these days is a trip.  I hear that everyone gets a trophy.  First place or last place.  WTH is up with all of this "warm and fuzzy" stuff?  Trophies go to the best.  Losers don't get shit.  Welcome to the rest of your life, kids. 

And what's up with everyone making the team?!  NO!  If you get cut, it means you suck.  The coach is doing you a favor because you won't be riding pine all season long.  If you really want to make the team, go home, practice for 52 weeks so you don't suck, and we'll see you at try-outs next year.  If you can't eat that sort of humble pie, become a stat person, towel boy, or costume donning mascot for the team.

Playing sports my entire life, molded me in so many different ways.  I learned how to use everyone's strengths to work as a team.  I learned discipline through running liners when I, or one of my teammates missed a free throw in practice.  I learned that getting benched after I screwed up in a game, didn't feel good.  But how would I ever dig deeper, and become a better player  if I was kept in?

I don't know.  Maybe I'm just living in a different universe here.  I try to teach the girls that everyone has different gifts.  But that we all have struggles too.  The important thing is to work on our weaknesses, without beating ourselves up, while remembering to celebrate our strengths! 

Just don't ask me to have a home birth in my bathtub supervised by a doula for this baby, so Cosette can cut the cord...ain't gonna happen.  Not my strength.  But you know, I'm okay with it.