Amelia Anne's Birth Story

Amelia Anne's birth story:

Warning this will contain my dilation number but nothing more graphic than that.  I also want to say that my birth route is mine and mine alone and worked for me and me alone.  Others choose different things and thats okay there is no "RIGHT" way to birth babies as long as they come out. So please reserve judgement for something that matters, like if your best friend is murdering people... 

Nov 2: my dr checked me at my weekly appointment I was 2 cm dilated.  She thought I would go into labor that week.. 

Indeed from Nov 2-Nov 10 I had constant on and off contractions.  Some would last for 2 hours and stall out.. Others would last shorter, get more intense and stall out.  I'd go 4 hours no contractions and bam they'd start up again.  It was EXHAUSTING.  I couldn't sleep, I could function. I felt like my body was stalling out it wanted to have baby but was too tired to do so... it was the worst week.. brutal really.. 

Nov 10: Another dr appointment.   After all the off and on contractions all week.. still. 2cm.   I was like "are you kidding me???"  My Dr had already scheduled to induce me on the 11th if I wanted it.  At that point, I WANTED IT!! 

Nov 11: 6 am, I check into the hospital It takes time to get all situated, still the 2 cm...

7:30 I start my pitocen drip and contractions begin. nice and light to start. 

8:30 my dr comes to check on me and I was dilated to a 3 so she went ahead and broke my water.  I labor more. All is well

10-11 I started to have hard long contractions that did not tickle! 

I didn't like that... I didnt like that at all.. 

 

11: I got the epidural 

4 cm... The nurse said it could take all day so just relax. So I of course did that.  Clearly I am not a dilator... 

1pm: My dr came over to check on me, see how I was doing.. She checked me and I was 10 cm and ready to push apparently! My dr asked me to do some practice pushes  I did, she said "Okay everyone, lets have a baby!!" 

So I did that.. 

My dr asked if Tait wanted to deliver, he said sure! Everyone got gowned up, and prepped for baby. I am in total shock over the entire ordeal. It was totally surreal! How is this possible? I thought I was going to be there forever now all of the sudden everything I had been dreaming about for the past 9 months, (baby coming OUT!!!!!) was happening! NOW!! 

 

Time to push! 

So I did that.. 

With in 2 contractions and 5 minuets... Tait delivered our little girl.  In 2 contractions and 5 minuets there was my love bug on my chest.  The one who had plagued me so brutally for the past 9 months was perfect and right there! There was no damage, everything went so fast and well the nurse and doctor were just as shocked as we were! 

They wiped her off on my chest and gave me a good hour of just skin to skin contact between her and I. They didnt weigh her, they didnt do anything just gave us time together.  It was precious and perfect! 

Interesting thing: 

When she was born, she didnt cry. She just looked around.  We were all freaking out about it but the dr and nurse and baby nurse were like its totally fine! When they did take her from me to do all the stuff they do, heel pricks to check her glucose levels since I had gestational diabetes... no scream, not even a whimper.. all her shots, her bath, foot prints through all of it not a peep.. Every time they took her temp or did the glucose test, which was often, she didnt make a sound. 

To date we only have heard her kind of cry twice.  

I prayed for a calm, even keeled, zen like child who would balance out Miss Emily Rose and her fire and spark and God has indeed answered my prayers.  

So in recap.. 

I may have the WORST TIME EVER growing people but I sure can birth them easily and quickly with no trauma.  

I am still in shock over the whole thing.  I was on cloud 9 for the rest of the day! I didnt care about anything because I just had my baby love, Miss Amelia Anne! She was perfect. 

So thats my funny birth story.. at least I think its funny and unbelievable.  

Diary of a Sick Prego Lady- Entry 2

Diary of a sick prego lady: Entry 2

Humbly swallowing a bitter pill 

I am deficient in a wide multitude of things.. The ability too bake... anything... ever, understanding written directions, the desire to care about how or why something works but am happy to just know it does and leave it at that, advanced math.. like fractions, technical talk, controlling my road rage.. you know, the usual things. However there is one thing I am NOT deficient in.  Doing.  I am alllllways busy doing something. ALWAYS. I HAAAAAAAAATE being unproductive and waisting time.  In fact, I have to control my OCD tendencies to not schedule out each minuet of each day. (I am guilty of this and know its unhealthy) Stopping just shy of that, I am usually a well organized and busy person. I write a schedule every day of things I want to accomplish and a game plan of how to most efficiently do my tasks. I LOVE my lists, I love crossing things off my lists even more. I am constantly moving, doing, and being as productive as physically possible. 

Well... for the past 17 weeks, I've been a total waist of space it seems like. There are no itineraries, no meal plans, no cooking, no satisfaction of crossing anything off a list.  There is no list.  I think I am a rock star if I shower. A once  daily ritual is now every other day at best, IF I can bring myself to go through the effort of actually doing it.  Most days, its just too much to ask.   I know I am growing a human blah blah blah.. I don't want to hear it. Spare me. Only true fellow doer's understand.. 

Swallowing my bitter pill is ASKIng for help, Asking for someone to please just watch emily for a hour or two while I take a nap, Asking for help in packing, moving, and unpacking because I just don't have anything in me to do it myself.  We just moved into a new fabulous apartment on Thursday. Under normal cheryl doer rules, I would have set a goal for myself to have 99% of everything unpacked and in its spot by Friday night sunset.  I would have achieved it too.  But no, I still have boxes everywhere, I cant find anything, I unpack 3 boxes and than have to lay down because that was very exhausting.  30-45 minuets later I regain strength to stand back up. As I do my body screams and says "NOOOOO DONT DO IT!!!" but the doer in me pushes through. 3 maybe 4 more boxes if they are small.. and rest again.  I HATE being dependent on others to do things for me that I am perfectly capable of doing myself.  in the past, I would have just suffered through, silently doing what has to be done by my own self imposed deadlines.  But as I slowly grow and mature.. and I do me VERY slowly... I am making changes and trying to humbly swallow my pride and OCD tendencies, and asking for help. Furthermore making myself be okay with accepting and receiving help.

So know, if I do ask you for help in any way, its a HUGE step for me to d so.  It will pain my soul a little each time.  But I hope in the end I will be a much better human for doing so.  I look at my life over the past 17 weeks and feel totally overwhelmed with Tait being gone so much for the rest of the year and next, i cant imagine surviving with a newborn as well as a vibrant 3 year old with out.. HELP... 

I am learning humbleness through my sever bouts of habitually throwing up and lack of energy motivation or effort, by asking for help. 

Diary of a sick prego lady- Entry 1

Diary of a sick prego lady

Entry 1: Throwing up in public and peeing your pants.. 

While it may seem strange to have a first entry while at the beginning of my 2nd trimester, I am sure the entries that follow will show that up until this point, it was not physically possible to journal at all. 

As many of you know by now, pregnancy is beyond NOT kind to me.  While I do not wish my little person a way for a second, I do wish I could magically fast forward to November and get this kid out.. 

I still can not keep most food down with out the help of medication.  Do I like taking it? NOPE.. Can I eat a morsel of bread or drink water and keep it down with out it? NOPE! So for the sake of actually growing my human, I have no choice.  When I was growing Emily, I took this medication until the day I delivered.  As long as I took it, I was okay and could eat enough to grow a happy healthy human.  

This kid on the other hand, I am not so lucky.  Even WITH the medication there is a 50/50 chance that it will be rejected immediately.  

Here is the story of the evening: 

I have been craving a french dip/Philly for dinners.  Its the ONLY thing I want.  I have successfully ate them all week with only one small episode where I thought rejection was going to happen but it did not.  

Well, tonight we went to Sheri's because their french dip has been rocking my world, I ate, I loved, and as I was telling a story about how my nausea med was running out and I called to have it refilled, they told me i had no more refills and so they have to call my dr and blah blah..  in the middle of my story, I felt the twinge I get on my left side half way down my side.  The sign that things are going to probably go poorly very quickly.  

I was on the inside of the booth and practically pushed tait out of my way and ran to the bathroom.  A disgusting 2 stall bathroom where a huge group of girls came in right after me.  Apparently they are on a road trip and hadn't stopped for  awhile.. so I have this huge line of people, in a small bathroom while I proceed to throw up everything I had just ate while at the same time forcefully peeing my pants.  

Wanting to die, embarrassed, humiliated, traumatized, I pull myself together with what little dignity I had left,  and open the door of my stall, and see the faces of several people looking at me, appalled and probably as traumatized as I was.  

I got the keys from tait and sat out in the car while he paid our bill .. 

Why am I sharing this extremely embarrassing story so publicly?  Because, I am miserable, this is not a rare occurrence (which is why i rarely leave the house) and I have to find the humor in this whole ordeal otherwise I might not make it to November. its important to me that my dear friends know exactly what I am going through.  I am not making this stuff up, when I say pregnancy is not kind to me, I really just mean it.  Sadly this is not the most traumatizing thing that has happened thus far, however, it IS the most public one.  Back to being a hermit invalid... 

Again, Public service announcement:

I am not interested in tricks and suggestions here on different things I can do to help things.  I don't want to hear them.   

This is just a story I am sharing because I am a sharer.  

Rumor Control/ Public Service Announcement

Rumor Control: 

Random things have already gotten back to me which are painfully not even close too being true so I thought I'd break my silence from my BLOG and go ahead and put some rumors to rest.. here we go: 

1.  Me not wearing my wedding rings:

This has nothing to do with my marital status, I dont like to wear rings while I am prego because if my hands swell and I cant get my rings off, I have a true panic attack and freak out! Think of those who are claustrophobic, their panic attack in small spaces, is how I feel when I cant get my rings off.. So to prohibit stress in my life.. for 9 mos, you will rarely see me in rings..  

2. Tait and I rarely being at church and rarely at the same time:

Again, has nothing to do with our marital status, No we are not separated, No we are not divorcing, No we dont hate each other and refuse to be in the same building together.  None of these things are true.. Do we have our issues? you bet! but that has ZERO impact on our church attendance.  

Tait goes to china every 2 months for at least 2 weeks.   Brutal.  Based on his depart and return schedule, he might or might not be there. 

Pregnancy is NOT kind to me.  (more on this later) Sometimes I just cant make it, there or anywhere for that matter.  Plus taking care of miss Emily Rose adds to stress and sometimes it just cant happen.  I detest it to my soul missing church. It is the worst thing of all time, I don't enjoy it at all.  But God knows I am not avoiding just because. Please know if I am not at church its because the little person I am growing is sucking the life out of me and I just cant.. 

3. Moving:

Due to a variety of factors which need not be discussed, we have decided to move closer to my mom and my sister for their help both while I am prego and after baby is born.  Especially with Tait's travel schedule both this year and next.  We have put in an application and have been approved at a very nice apartment complex, while we will be losing some things from our current place, the location and my needs ended up winning out.  Our lease is up here May 31st and we will move into our new place early June.  During the gap we will be living with mom and dad.  I know its kind of ridiculous that I have to post this especially our itinerary but .. sadly, this needed to be made public because there is much interest and confusion on the topic.  Why anyone cares so much abut where we live and what time table it will be done on, is FAR beyond me.  But there it is folks.  Our plan.. 

This is really a public service announcement more than a rumor bust.  It's really in EVERYONES best interest that you read this and DO pass it along.. 

4. "You should be over that by now" 

As stated before, Pregnancy is NOT kind to me.  It wasn't with emily.  I had to take medication to keep food down until the day I delivered.  This pregnancy seems to be WAY harder than Emily was.  While I was prego with Emily, people constantly said "you should be over that by now" in a horrified tone.  After a while, I wanted to punch them all in the face.  Sometimes I did threaten it with a harsh warning.  There were two little old ladies in the late 80s / early 90s that constantly harassed me and gave me "treatment advice" while I never warned them off, my fist would tighten every time.  I really dont want to hear it

So do yourself a favor.  Dont say "you should be over that by now" and really, I dont want your remedies that worked like a charm for you.  Good for you.... I am glad that chomping on some ginger root/ eating soda crackers,/sniffing shapries/ doing a cartwheel and than drinking orange tea/putting a dob of chapstick  on your pressure points on your elbow/ hopping up and down on one foot and singing show tunes worked.. FOR YOU..  I am not interested in advice, I am interested in prayers that my kid is safe happy healthy and perfect and that I am well enough to care for Emily.  THATSS what I need to hear.. 

 Feel free to warn as many people as possible and spread this fact #4 all around.  You have my permission.  

Also, if you hear things from anyone, and I mean ANYONE, family included, it might be wise to check with myself or Tait before going and telling anyone else...   If I wanted things to be public, I would make them so, if we are still mulling around ideas, (like we were until 2 days ago about moving)  I probably am not going to say much until a decision is made except to maybe a few close and personal friends who I trust to help bounce some things off of for outsider opinion.  Those people know who they are.  

Just some sound advice all around.. 

Missplaced Value

Several things have come to my mind today while purging my house with un used stuff.  

For the first I'd say 28 years of my life, I shamefully admit, I always felt my personal value was in my things.  I have always been unyielding in my sentiment.  If you gave me something, I will keep it until I have no recollection of who gave it to me.  It is ONLY at that point if it leaves my presence.  Cards, oh my dear, I probably have every card I have ever been given.  I just never can bring myself to part with them.  Still cant.  But my things, clothes, shoes, decorations, sofas, chairs, dishes cups I have always had the faulty belief that my value and substance as a human was based on these things.  

It always was incorrect and I knew it wasn't right but also wasn't at a place where I could mentally change.  

Getting married and leaving my big girl accounting job and disposable salary and moving to Utah to support my Tait through school threw us into seriously poor times.  $30 a week for food, ALWAYS towards the end of each semester about to run out of money only to be saved by the donation of a friend or stranger, sometimes both.  Ground beef was a luxury item otherwise it was ground turkey.  Still I clung to my clothes for dear life.  It was 2 very depressing years for MANY reasons.  The one I want to focus on was that I felt valueless because we simply couldn't afford anything.  No treats to Starbucks, no new clothes, no shoes, these things were far and few between.  I had a total identity crisis.  As if being married moving to a new state, no friends, new life, everything isn't hard enough. I had this horrible plague of a not helpful attribute hanging over me.  Still, I wasn't able to let go of clothes I KNEW I had no chance of wearing again, a small decorative pillow that I loved but never found the place to use, but I clung to it knowing someday I would have just the right spot for it.  (I never did, it was eventually donated to the salvation army, last year) 

Skip ahead.  

A couple years ago, I had worked very hard to cultivated a friend ship that ended up being ... deeply unfortunate.  No I will not talk about it. But that person taught me one thing I will forever be grateful for.  Stuff is just stuff.  You can always get more.  You cant take it with you so why fuss over stuff.   

Little by little I started purging..  I kind of freaked out a little and would replace every clothing item donated.  But eventually I got to a point where I could let things go and it was okay. I was still Cheryl even with out that one red sweater.  When we found out we were moving back to Washington from Indiana,  I was FINALLLLLY ready to accept that my stuff was just stuff and zero percent of my value as a human was in any way tied into a small decorative pillow, or a skirt.  We moved out here with bare bones of life stuff. It felt good. 

Am I appalled that it took me 28 years to figure this out? YOU BET! 

Its kind of shameful and moderately embarrassing to even type this up.  But as many of you know, I am not shy and will pretty much talk about 90% of the good bad and ugly sides of me.  

Upon getting a new home to live in, Ive recollected "stuff" not to fill a empty hole in my soul or to place value on myself as a human, but simply because we had practically nothing.  But after months of what seems like an endless task of cleaning shuffling and fussing over STUFF.  I've had enough.  Why spend hours a day exhausting myself cleaning fining places for that vase I MIGHT use sometime in the future or countless random things I try to make work because it is nice but I really dont need or use? I don't need 25 pairs of pants.  I only rotate between 4 because they fit the best.  The brown decorative bowl that I love, and have tried to make work in various parts of my house.. Ended up in the donate bag, along with a whole slew of other STUFF I can't or don't wear, Don't know where to put, don't use, never have used so on and so forth.  

ITS JUST STUFF! I cant take it with me why cling to it and try to use things to fill empty spaces in my heart that can not be filled with any object? Totally pointless. So with out mercy and VERY little sentiment a large donation was made to a thrift store and there is more to go.  Some things will go to other people I know will use or appreciate them. 

Do I still love clothes, absolutely, do I love my shoe babies and keep the nice ones in their boxes tissue filled toes and all? You bet ya. When I get a new skirt that fits just right will I be excited about it? oh yes!  Do I want to have nice things in my home. Of course. Thats okay. But that is not the sum of cheryl. There is no value in those things, not just because they probably came from the Good Will bins where I pay .89 cents a pound. My value system has totally changed and I thank God every day for that... 

For 28 years I put value in the wrong thing.. or things for that matter.  Now, my value is spent on buying extra groceries and inviting people over to share a meal and bond.  Value is placed on helping others when I can however I can and that fills my soul up in ways a pair of $90 jeans or $150 pair of shoes will never do.  

Thank you friends who I have had the honor of sharing a meal with these past few years.  You are very to me and irreplaceable. You dear friend are of extreme high value to me. 

Thank your parent for allowing you to live..

This comes to you after a LOOOONG week. I am hibernating up in my bed, flannel sheets that feel like the cozy hug I really just need, a kitty at my feet, wrecking ball Imperial Stout at my side, cloudy thoughts that might make writing impossible. Be warned this could be just random ramblings. My Tait down stairs having quality time with our monster, oh, I mean daughter... I simply cant take any more "nu-uh's" and that expressive look of "I know what you are asking but I am going to either ignore you or throw a life is over fit instead" 

My week has been full of constant "nu-uhs", tears of pure and utter devastation, whiney cries of not getting ones own way, seeking help but not actually wanting help, demands and screams.  AKA.. the mom of a 2 year old.  

How sad is it that we can relate so closely to the raw reactions of a 2 year old? From feeling hopeless about a situation we dont see an end to.  Getting an end and being upset its not the end we wanted.  Seeking wise counsel and when its not what we want to hear, reject it and do what we want anyway?Thus nullifying the potential opportunity to grow and be humbled.  Demanding perfection of ourselves or others, an impossible and fruitless task.  Having a fit when something pushes us over the breaking point

I am thankful that God never hides out from me.  Especially when I am not the picture off awesome. 

Recently I had a sit down to seek some advice on a topic I KNEW I had the wrong attitude about, and overwhelming feelings that were not productive.   NOTHING that was said was anything I wanted to hear at all.  However, It was what I needed to hear.  I needed to hear those things so I could progress and grow as a human.  Did I cry for 2 hours straight and than off and on for the rest of the day? you bet ya! You know, all grown up like.  

So yesterday when Emily was constantly crying non stop for 3 hours straight and than was sweet for 1 hour, napped, woke up and cried and fussed until bed time, constantly crying for not hearing what she wanted or getting what she wanted.  Me being agitated  with her, I am sure 2 weeks ago God was just the same with me saying "Reallly cheryl.... really... " Expecting me to act my age.. I too have to expect that emily will act her age.. which is 2.. Spiritually I am 10, so the fact that I can make this connection so closely to a 2 yr old is appalling and embarrassing to admit. 

I think its important to admit our feelers, fears, short comings, and need for help.  Its by admitting these things we can form bonds.  This can be done by relating because we have been there before like  the desperate cries for help with a struggling mom and being able to say "I have been there, I am there, I love you" asking for and humbly receiving advice to grow and change even if its not something we want to hear.  Maturity is being humbled enough to follow direction of said advice.  

James 5:16 says "Therefore confess your sins to one another and pray for one another, that you may be healed.  The prayer of a righteous person has great power as it is working"

On this blog, I will confess much.  I think it is important to be open and honest and lay it all down on the line.  How else can we better love eaach other than to pray for one another specifically.  

Point: I think I need to pray a little harder for my poor 2 year old who has a zillion emotions and feelings that she has no idea what to do with.  For her testing and learning.  For her trust in me even if she detests my answer is not what she wants to hear.  She may throw a fit about it, but she does trust that I will hold firm to my answer no matter how many times she asks seeking something different.  I need to exercise more of the patience that God gives me, his 10 year old. I hate it..Patience is a dirty word in my book, but as much as I hate to admit it, its not ALL ABOUT ME!! :) Something I hope to teach her as I grow. 

My Imperial Stout is almost gone, I have inherited another kitty baby for snuggles, the squeals of laughter down stairs as Tait blows through the tube of a empty Reynolds Wrap and chases her around the house for some much needed father-daughter bonding time.  I think hibernation time has ended.  I feel better just typing and getting thoughts out of my head.  

Thank you dear reader... for reading my weekly soap box post.  My Final thought is as follows.  It is by sheer will power of restraint that any of us were allowed to live past the age of 3**.  Thank whomever raised you for demonstrating this restraint because I can almost guarantee that at one point or another, it was touch and go and a questionable choice. 

** age subject to change the older my child gets 

Reasons Why I detest Curious George

Since this is my blog I feel free to write about anything I please.  Things that plague me, things that vex me, things that are silly, things that are encouraging, things I struggle with so on. 

Today's topic I am pretty sure is silly and stupid but vexes me none the less.  Its more of a unsolicited rant over anything.  So what irritates me enough to blog about it? Answer: Curious George.  

Emily started kinda sorta watching TV not too long ago.  The first tv show I introduced her to was Leap Frog's Letter Machine Rescue Team.  Its about being a engineer. Over and over and over I watched the sammmme one. To be clear, Emily doesn't sit and watch tv all day by any means, however, she much like her grandma and mother like to have noise in the back ground while she accomplishes tasks.  Grandma ops for a channel on tv that plays all classic tv from the lone ranger to Adam 12, Bonanza to Daniel Boone (which is a personal favorite of mine). I opt for talk radio, streaming my beloved Glenn Beck to the tv and having it loud enough I can hear it while I work on my tasks.  I guess there are worse nasty habits to teach my child.

 I digress.  

  Upon desperate exploration to not hear the words " Design! Build! Test! Improve" for the zillionth time, I found other leap frog shows on Netflix and introduced them to miss Emily.  Success! 7 different shows to rotate through so I wouldn't get burnt out on any one show.  They are educational and fun and seriously my kid can count to 20 and knows tons of shapes, colors, animals, sounds ect.  I work with her based on things learned in the show. No matter if its just running in the background while we play blocks or vacuum the house together, or shes is actually watching it.  

So where does Curious George fit into this?

Tait often gets up with emily and they have morning time bonding together while I grasp onto every minuet of sleep I can. One morning he apparently couldnt stand to listen to another leap frog song or quote about measure mice or "square circle rectangle triangle shapes are all around us" (I cant blame him even if I think I am the one who really suffers)  he introduced Curious George or "Money Show" to our child.. A act that I will probably be on my death bed before I truly forgive him. 

I NEVER liked curious George. Ever. Not even as a child.  I found him creepy, obnoxious and lacking any common sense, devoid of reason and any sound judgement.  I thought I had made my feelings on Curious George well known to Tait, so either he just "forgot"  which is what he claims, or I had done something annoying and he was seeking revenge.  Either way, to this moment, obviously, I hold this as an act of terrorism. Emily LOVES this show and will actually sit and watch it and laugh and make comments like "oh no! Money fell down!" or "no no money" while adorable to see her interact in a positive way.  She is obviously learning something.  What I am not sure though.  

So here are finally my reasons of why I detest Curious George:

1. He is creepy.  There is something about him that even though I am a animal lover, creeps me out

2. He lacks all sense of reason and is void of thinking past the now

3. There are NEVER any consequences for his idiotic actions.  The man with the yellow hat constantly picks up the mess George made with a very gentle if any at all scolding.  

4. There are constantly lessons of "why that wasn't such a good idea" and while those are teachable moments, I feel at 2, Emily doesnt need any more ideas..

5. There is zero discipline.  As a person who believes very strongly in this it pains my soul to watch\listen to a show where there are no clear parameters. It bothers me greatly

6. George is habitually being given responsibility over things he a) Has no business being responsible for and b) given responsibility when he shoes zero lack of reason and responsibility considering everything he touches turns into a epic fail.  

7. The man with the yellow hat seems to never learn that by saying "George be sure to..." It will not happen.  

Point: While I enjoy teachable moments, I feel like Curious George gives me too many. Am I being a little harsh? sure.  Am I reading waaay to much into things? You bet! Do I care? Not so much.  I think its a crappy show.  While not the worst by any means I still hate it.  The evil money show will continue to play, my child will laugh and giggle at it and talk to George, even advise him NOT to do something.  A very bad sign in my mind that a 2 year old can pre meditate something is about to happen, but also makes me proud that I might be doing a half decent as a parent that my 2 year old is capable of seeing consequences of actions before hand.  

Many of you will say just stop letting her watch it.  But many of you do not have a spirited 2 year old. I pick my battles and even with my severe detest for this show and I am pretty sure I have night terrors that involve George's creepy face, it is not a battle I care to partake in at this moment in time.  I have far larger challenge to face like potty training and "don't drink from the kittys water", "carry your own babies down stairs", "stop screaming" "I cant give you rice until its cooked" you know. typical raising of a human activities.  

Rant complete.  For now.