My mother in law was first nicknamed Ralph Furley by Lan at my wedding shower. Think back to the goofy, polyester wearing, extreme facial expression making, Raph Furley from the old television show, Three's Company.
When Lan first called her this, I nearly split my side from laughter as this nickname is by far one of the most fitting nicknames for a human being on earth. My mother in law IS Ralph Furley, only she normally wears jeans and her hair is a little longer.
Ralph is definitely sweet, and would literally kill herself for your happiness and comfort. She is a classic door mat. I've heard stories that she was once a working woman who was busy and made her children do chores, but I never met that woman. The woman I met was already retired and was delivering my future husband's meals to him on TV trays in his bedroom and then cleaning out his bedroom trash can.
Ralph to me, as I know her, does nothing but live to serve her over indulged selfish husband and children...which is probably why marriage is the only reason that her children ever move out of her house. She delivers all of their meals to them on trays, washes all of their clothes - everything! Even for the 33 year old sister still living at home.
The birth (please God) of this baby will happen to coincide within a month of her baby boy getting married and moving out. This frightens me. This scares me to death actually, because what will she do with her time? She does NOTHING - I mean NOTHING other than cook, clean and do laundry for her family or do crossword puzzles. That's it. She has no hobbies. She has no friends. She doesn't volunteer or go anywhere - nothing. And for this son in particular, she spends 30% of her day preparing his special Atkins meals.
My fear is that the birth of this child will give her unhealthy reasons to cling and latch on and spend her days - every day - HERE! AAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!
Being a person who loves solitude more than the average bear, this gives me panic attacks already. I'm one of those rare people who crave alone time and actually need it in order to thrive. Hurricane evacuations are a sure way to see me go nuts, as are large family gatherings of any kind that last more than 2 hours.
So now I possibly have 8 months left to get this woman something to do other than need me to take care of to make her life complete...a hobby, maybe a part time job, volunteer work?
Friday, January 30, 2009
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Long time, no post
So, my ticker says I'm 5 weeks today. WOO HOO! My doctor believes that I'm a little closer to 6 than to 5 weeks given my Hcg readings, but we'll see what the vaginal ultrasound shows on Monday.
My hcg from Monday's blood test was 371.
The nausea is beginning. I haven't puked, but I've now gagged twice this week and felt a general nausea a few times. I'm shitting up a storm and the farts...oh god the farts! I must fart about a million times a day and I cannot keep it in. I've been keeping a fan on in my office to dissipate the scent.
My house is a disarray. I was on that cleaning binge and now since I'm technically a "high risk" pregnancy due to my severe PCOS, I've been banned from much of the cleaning until I get past 8 to 10 weeks. Thank god for mom who has been helping me alot, but the house is still a mess.
Which brings me to what's really on my mind today. My house. Ziggy and I believe in the future. We live a little more humbly today so that we can live better later. We make a good chunk of change and we have a very nice home compared to anything that our parents ever had.
However, compared to my sisters, my house is a borderline...dump. Both of my sisters have gorgeous homes that are new and wonderful. My home, though I'm very proud of it, is older and needs a lot of updating...ALOT of updating (can you say pink flowered wallpaper in the bathrooms and panneling in the kitchen?)
So, we have two upcoming events where one of my sisters will be spending the night at my house with her twins and her husband. One of the days in next weekend. This has thrown me into a tailspin of fret.
I can't get the house ready for them...physically...I can't right now. And yet, I can't explain to her why yet, because I'm not ready for her to know. So, god bless my mom who will be coming over this weekend to help me spruce up a bit, but I still fret.
Why do I care so much? I have no idea. Screw em...right? But I can't ever seem to get to a point where I really can believe that.
My hcg from Monday's blood test was 371.
The nausea is beginning. I haven't puked, but I've now gagged twice this week and felt a general nausea a few times. I'm shitting up a storm and the farts...oh god the farts! I must fart about a million times a day and I cannot keep it in. I've been keeping a fan on in my office to dissipate the scent.
My house is a disarray. I was on that cleaning binge and now since I'm technically a "high risk" pregnancy due to my severe PCOS, I've been banned from much of the cleaning until I get past 8 to 10 weeks. Thank god for mom who has been helping me alot, but the house is still a mess.
Which brings me to what's really on my mind today. My house. Ziggy and I believe in the future. We live a little more humbly today so that we can live better later. We make a good chunk of change and we have a very nice home compared to anything that our parents ever had.
However, compared to my sisters, my house is a borderline...dump. Both of my sisters have gorgeous homes that are new and wonderful. My home, though I'm very proud of it, is older and needs a lot of updating...ALOT of updating (can you say pink flowered wallpaper in the bathrooms and panneling in the kitchen?)
So, we have two upcoming events where one of my sisters will be spending the night at my house with her twins and her husband. One of the days in next weekend. This has thrown me into a tailspin of fret.
I can't get the house ready for them...physically...I can't right now. And yet, I can't explain to her why yet, because I'm not ready for her to know. So, god bless my mom who will be coming over this weekend to help me spruce up a bit, but I still fret.
Why do I care so much? I have no idea. Screw em...right? But I can't ever seem to get to a point where I really can believe that.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Lots of posts!
Two posts below today - one is just a photo post that you've been asking me for and the other is a long post about cats...in case you are bored today and have nothing else to read!
Boo boo kitties.
OK, so we are the "cat people" in case I haven't shared that yet. After my precious baby dog, Lola, died from cancer, we weren't emotionally ready for another dog, so we went to the SPCA and picked out Cayenne. Our intention was to have ONE cat.
She was the most pathetic looking animal on earth and we scooped her up and loved her intensely. Lola died in June and this was September.
In October, I had taken Luke to Chuck E Cheese's one day after school as a reward for good grades. As we were leaving, we saw this tiny little shivering kitten sitting in a puddle in the middle of the street. Naturally, we couldn't leave him there, so we took him home. The vet confirmed the next day that it was a boy and only 3 weeks old. We named him Tank. After weeks of nursing him (and finding out it was a girl!), we decided that we had to keep Tank who was a gorgeous long hair beauty that we fell in love with. Her name is now Tay Tay.
There. Done. Two cats. Perfect.
Then the following March, someone sent us a photo of a Russian Blue who was scheduled to be "put down". Ziggy got the email and suddenly felt a ridiculous kinship (he's Russian) and then sent it to me and despite my protests, we went at lunch to meet Mr. Blue.
Mr. Blue was already being taken later that afternoon, but they placed his little sister into my husband's arms (sneaky bastards...they could sense which one of us was the animal lover) and that was it. My husband could not leave it behind and Baby Ju Ju came to live with us (her name is Jules, but we call her Baby Ju Ju because she is still the tiniest of them all).
So fine, now we have three. We have a fairly large house and there are 3 humans, so it actually worked out well. Being a dog owner all my life, I can honestly say that 3 cats were still easier than one dog.
A week later, the shelter called my husband and told him that Mr. Blue's new parents didn't want him.
When Ziggy came to me wanting Mr. Blue, I said absolutely not. I mean, FOUR cats? We would instantly become one of those weird people with a house full of cats, right? He talked me into it only by proving to me that Ju Ju was getting beat up on by the two older cats and since Mr. Blue was her litter mate, he might protect her.
Enter Mr. Blue.
Thankfully I can say that we DID stop there and other than adding a simple Beta Fish, we are done. We've had people try to push cats on us and even a dog or two, but we've been able to say no. We've also stopped hanging around with so many animal activists - if we didn't, then our house would look like Ace Ventura's by now.
So that is my cat story. I have a cat pregnancy story to post next time, but I wanted to give you the cat background first and posting both the background and the story would be too long of a post.
I can still say honestly that 4 cats is still easier than one large dog. They are super clean and loving and never need to be walked - we love our boo boo kitties, though it is a little hard to come out the closet and admit to having four of them! And trust me, sneaking 4 cats into a 5 star hotel when you evacuate for hurricanes is NO easy task as we learned for Gustav this year!
Our cats are loved immensely and they are as much a part of the family as any of the humans are.
She was the most pathetic looking animal on earth and we scooped her up and loved her intensely. Lola died in June and this was September.
In October, I had taken Luke to Chuck E Cheese's one day after school as a reward for good grades. As we were leaving, we saw this tiny little shivering kitten sitting in a puddle in the middle of the street. Naturally, we couldn't leave him there, so we took him home. The vet confirmed the next day that it was a boy and only 3 weeks old. We named him Tank. After weeks of nursing him (and finding out it was a girl!), we decided that we had to keep Tank who was a gorgeous long hair beauty that we fell in love with. Her name is now Tay Tay.
There. Done. Two cats. Perfect.
Then the following March, someone sent us a photo of a Russian Blue who was scheduled to be "put down". Ziggy got the email and suddenly felt a ridiculous kinship (he's Russian) and then sent it to me and despite my protests, we went at lunch to meet Mr. Blue.
Mr. Blue was already being taken later that afternoon, but they placed his little sister into my husband's arms (sneaky bastards...they could sense which one of us was the animal lover) and that was it. My husband could not leave it behind and Baby Ju Ju came to live with us (her name is Jules, but we call her Baby Ju Ju because she is still the tiniest of them all).
So fine, now we have three. We have a fairly large house and there are 3 humans, so it actually worked out well. Being a dog owner all my life, I can honestly say that 3 cats were still easier than one dog.
A week later, the shelter called my husband and told him that Mr. Blue's new parents didn't want him.
When Ziggy came to me wanting Mr. Blue, I said absolutely not. I mean, FOUR cats? We would instantly become one of those weird people with a house full of cats, right? He talked me into it only by proving to me that Ju Ju was getting beat up on by the two older cats and since Mr. Blue was her litter mate, he might protect her.
Enter Mr. Blue.
Thankfully I can say that we DID stop there and other than adding a simple Beta Fish, we are done. We've had people try to push cats on us and even a dog or two, but we've been able to say no. We've also stopped hanging around with so many animal activists - if we didn't, then our house would look like Ace Ventura's by now.
So that is my cat story. I have a cat pregnancy story to post next time, but I wanted to give you the cat background first and posting both the background and the story would be too long of a post.
I can still say honestly that 4 cats is still easier than one large dog. They are super clean and loving and never need to be walked - we love our boo boo kitties, though it is a little hard to come out the closet and admit to having four of them! And trust me, sneaking 4 cats into a 5 star hotel when you evacuate for hurricanes is NO easy task as we learned for Gustav this year!
Our cats are loved immensely and they are as much a part of the family as any of the humans are.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Results
Well, my hcg went from 14 on Monday to 46 on Wednesday. Promising? God I hope so. My progesterone level was not available yet (I have no idea why), so she went ahead and put me on progesterone just in case.
She said that it can't hurt - god I hope not!
Waiting on husband to get home with that Rx because it wasn't ready on my way home.
I had pizza with my bud and after I make his lunch, that's it - I'm done for the night. Mom promised to come help me clean this weekend - so I get to relax.
Thank you SO much for you prayers and your support and please continue the praying. We've got a long road ahead to get this little life in my arms!
She said that it can't hurt - god I hope not!
Waiting on husband to get home with that Rx because it wasn't ready on my way home.
I had pizza with my bud and after I make his lunch, that's it - I'm done for the night. Mom promised to come help me clean this weekend - so I get to relax.
Thank you SO much for you prayers and your support and please continue the praying. We've got a long road ahead to get this little life in my arms!
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Waiting
My boobs feel like giant melons with lead weights and I get weird crampy feelings every so often, and I'm bloated like a blimp in my waist all of a sudden, but other than that, I'm just normal and waiting on my blood results from this morning.
The waiting hasn't actually been so bad yet. Of course tomorrow morning may be nerve wracking, but my test this morning was darker than ever and I'm trying to have 100% faith in this baby.
Ziggy saw a new wonderful bipolar doctor today who warmed our hearts with hope and good feelings. We haven't had that in a while. Ziggy maintains his disease very well. However, on the inside, he is constantly hurting or in turmoil or battling to do or not to do something.
We've had a hunch that it could be better, so much better for a while now if we just found the right doctor. And now, it looks like we could possibly be right. Of course at $300 per appointment, he better damn well be Dr. Awesome. He's not on our insurance either...but at least it'll whittle down our deductible in case God plans for me to have that c-section at the end of September that I'm so having faith will happen.
I'll write more soon. I'm supposed to be "resting". Yeah. Right. Whatever.
The waiting hasn't actually been so bad yet. Of course tomorrow morning may be nerve wracking, but my test this morning was darker than ever and I'm trying to have 100% faith in this baby.
Ziggy saw a new wonderful bipolar doctor today who warmed our hearts with hope and good feelings. We haven't had that in a while. Ziggy maintains his disease very well. However, on the inside, he is constantly hurting or in turmoil or battling to do or not to do something.
We've had a hunch that it could be better, so much better for a while now if we just found the right doctor. And now, it looks like we could possibly be right. Of course at $300 per appointment, he better damn well be Dr. Awesome. He's not on our insurance either...but at least it'll whittle down our deductible in case God plans for me to have that c-section at the end of September that I'm so having faith will happen.
I'll write more soon. I'm supposed to be "resting". Yeah. Right. Whatever.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Irony
When I found out that I was pregnant with Luke, I would be totally lying if I told you that I never not once hoped to miscarry. Judge me how you will, but I think that is a very raw honest thought of many a woman faced with an unplanned pregnancy.
I was 21, living in an efficiency apartment, making $8.25 an hour and the guy that I created this life with was just my buddy.
So yes, the thought crossed my mind - that life would be so much easier and so less petrifying if this whole thing just ended. Since I am empahtically pro life, that was my only choice.
Then, a few weeks later, I started bleeding when I peed. Ex Husband drove me to the hospital while I shook uncontrollably like a leaf and could do nothing but chant over and over again, "Please God No, Please God NO".
When faced with the blood, my instincts kicked in and fighting for this tiny life was all I wanted to do.
Turns out it was kidney stones causing the bleeding and that is another story for another day. Here he is, 8 years old, and a total shit most days - but I love him, God I love him.
My blood test results were delivered to me today by the doctor herself, which is never a good sign I've learned. Happy news comes from Vivian, the nurse. Bad news comes from the doctor herself.
The bad news is the my beta was only 14 and my progesterone was only 13.3. She feared miscarriage or "chemical pregnancy" as they call it when it is this early. And so, off I go tomorrow to have a second beta and see where my numbers have gotten me.
I've felt every emotion today on earth from joy at hearing that YES YES YES I AM PREGNANT and a medical professional actually confirmed it, to fear and frustration to panic and peace. What a mess.
Of course I will let you know the results. She said that I should hear from her by 10:00am on Thursday with the results. Please God! PLEASE!
All I can do now is rest and pray. The rest is up to God.
I was 21, living in an efficiency apartment, making $8.25 an hour and the guy that I created this life with was just my buddy.
So yes, the thought crossed my mind - that life would be so much easier and so less petrifying if this whole thing just ended. Since I am empahtically pro life, that was my only choice.
Then, a few weeks later, I started bleeding when I peed. Ex Husband drove me to the hospital while I shook uncontrollably like a leaf and could do nothing but chant over and over again, "Please God No, Please God NO".
When faced with the blood, my instincts kicked in and fighting for this tiny life was all I wanted to do.
Turns out it was kidney stones causing the bleeding and that is another story for another day. Here he is, 8 years old, and a total shit most days - but I love him, God I love him.
My blood test results were delivered to me today by the doctor herself, which is never a good sign I've learned. Happy news comes from Vivian, the nurse. Bad news comes from the doctor herself.
The bad news is the my beta was only 14 and my progesterone was only 13.3. She feared miscarriage or "chemical pregnancy" as they call it when it is this early. And so, off I go tomorrow to have a second beta and see where my numbers have gotten me.
I've felt every emotion today on earth from joy at hearing that YES YES YES I AM PREGNANT and a medical professional actually confirmed it, to fear and frustration to panic and peace. What a mess.
Of course I will let you know the results. She said that I should hear from her by 10:00am on Thursday with the results. Please God! PLEASE!
All I can do now is rest and pray. The rest is up to God.
Monday, January 19, 2009
Oh god!
Oh my holy Jesus - I am FUCKING PREGNANT!
I got my two lines this morning. OH GOD PLEASE PRAY THAT IT STICKS! I will post the photos and the story VERY soon - typing this fast before Ziggy catches me.
PLEASE PRAY FOR THIS BABY TO STAY!
I got my two lines this morning. OH GOD PLEASE PRAY THAT IT STICKS! I will post the photos and the story VERY soon - typing this fast before Ziggy catches me.
PLEASE PRAY FOR THIS BABY TO STAY!
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Dressing Jesus
I decided this afternoon to take a nap. Not being a big "nap" person by nature, this was a very unusual event for me. I can count on one hand the amount of naps I take a year.
But today was one of those nap needing days. Possibly because I got up early to go to church before Luke's basketball game - but of course - I'm hoping that my exhaustion is due to a bun cooking in the oven (though I barely dare to hope that out loud).
While napping EVERYTHING woke me up. Work called about a customer's order on credit hold, then the douche bag Operations Manager called to be sure that I wanted the order left on hold, and wanted to know why - even though the why is NOT his business, but I always must justify myself to him for some reason.
Erick had set the kitchen timer to go off for a still unknown reason and that woke me up.
And then there was the dream. Naps always provide me with very strange and colorful dreams. Today's dream was that I was in charge of dressing the company's lighted 4-foot Jesus statue (which doesn't exist by the way) for certain events.
For this event, I was dressing Our Lord and Savior for a dinner in which the Obama's would attend with the owner of the company. I was putting his robes and gowns on, always being careful not to face the statue head on, lest I see our Lord naked.
Then I had to dress the younger Obama girl for some odd reason. And then the owner of my company was yelling at me and the President was drunk and trying to steal Jesus' robes from me.
Anyway, yes, I know, I may need therapy.
Luke's team did win their 1st round championship game today. Luke is the only kid other than one other kid that plays all 4 quarters for every game...because he's good like that. Today though, idiot ex husband didn't force Luke to eat breakfast. By quarter # 4, Luke was so exhausted and excited and nervous that he started puking - all over.
Poor baby. He was so amped up from scoring two baskets in a row and was so nervous about only being one basket ahead with a minute on the clock and of course idiot ex husband didn't force him to eat breakfast and BLECH - it happened.
His team and coach were super supportive and he got clapped off the court, but it was still a little mortifying for the poor kid. An 8 year old who refuses breakfast before a basketball game in which he is the kid on the team required to run court the most in his position is when a parent must step in and force it...idiot.
As the mommy, I'm not allowed to "run out" and save him when he gets hurt on court or on field. That would be "gay" according to Luke and Ziggy, so I sit there and make either Ziggy or Idiot go out there. I turned to Idiot and said, "are you going over there?" And he was like, "uuuhhhhhhhh" and I was like, "YOUR KID IS PUKING!" and then the douche finally gets up to go check on him and get him some water.
Nice.
But today was one of those nap needing days. Possibly because I got up early to go to church before Luke's basketball game - but of course - I'm hoping that my exhaustion is due to a bun cooking in the oven (though I barely dare to hope that out loud).
While napping EVERYTHING woke me up. Work called about a customer's order on credit hold, then the douche bag Operations Manager called to be sure that I wanted the order left on hold, and wanted to know why - even though the why is NOT his business, but I always must justify myself to him for some reason.
Erick had set the kitchen timer to go off for a still unknown reason and that woke me up.
And then there was the dream. Naps always provide me with very strange and colorful dreams. Today's dream was that I was in charge of dressing the company's lighted 4-foot Jesus statue (which doesn't exist by the way) for certain events.
For this event, I was dressing Our Lord and Savior for a dinner in which the Obama's would attend with the owner of the company. I was putting his robes and gowns on, always being careful not to face the statue head on, lest I see our Lord naked.
Then I had to dress the younger Obama girl for some odd reason. And then the owner of my company was yelling at me and the President was drunk and trying to steal Jesus' robes from me.
Anyway, yes, I know, I may need therapy.
Luke's team did win their 1st round championship game today. Luke is the only kid other than one other kid that plays all 4 quarters for every game...because he's good like that. Today though, idiot ex husband didn't force Luke to eat breakfast. By quarter # 4, Luke was so exhausted and excited and nervous that he started puking - all over.
Poor baby. He was so amped up from scoring two baskets in a row and was so nervous about only being one basket ahead with a minute on the clock and of course idiot ex husband didn't force him to eat breakfast and BLECH - it happened.
His team and coach were super supportive and he got clapped off the court, but it was still a little mortifying for the poor kid. An 8 year old who refuses breakfast before a basketball game in which he is the kid on the team required to run court the most in his position is when a parent must step in and force it...idiot.
As the mommy, I'm not allowed to "run out" and save him when he gets hurt on court or on field. That would be "gay" according to Luke and Ziggy, so I sit there and make either Ziggy or Idiot go out there. I turned to Idiot and said, "are you going over there?" And he was like, "uuuhhhhhhhh" and I was like, "YOUR KID IS PUKING!" and then the douche finally gets up to go check on him and get him some water.
Nice.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Plans Schmans
I had so many plans for the day. I was going to go into work to work on my personal taxes, and then read my school textbook and then solve world hunger and then...I just got lazy. Super lazy and now I'm being so lazy that I can hardly imagine how I found the get up and go to check and see how the Internet is doing.
I had a hella week at work. I have one employee that I kick myself in the ass daily for even hiring, who has been more than a handful for over a year now. She's one of those people who crave drama - who need constant drama in order to feel alive or some shit like that.
This week, she made 3 extremely good attempts at creating her needed drama with me and I am proud to say that I was able to thwart all 3 of her attempts. A year ago, I would have buckled and turned to mush and would be spending my weekend fretting over the upcoming investigation into my management style that would be sure to come on Monday and the resulting yelling festival I would receive from our President in which I would be stomped on until I cried for allowing her to win again.
But, with all her problems and headaches and drama, she has actually been a serious blessing to me in this way - I don't take shit anymore. She's made me wise or at least wiser. She's made me cautious of what I say and do as a manager. She's taught me how to remain calm and put personal feelings to the side. She's also taught me how to beat her at her own game...and I thank her for that.
On day 3 of her bullshit, I marched into my boss' office for the 3rd time and told him her shit that she was trying to create with me. But this time, before I left, I demanded that he step in, rather than throwing me under the bus as he normally does. And so, by the end of Friday, thanks to my craftiness in dealing with her, my boss deciding not to be a pansy, and a wonderful Human Resources lady - she was squashed and I even got to sit back and listen to her...apologize. Yes, apologize. Not only did she apologize, but now she thinks that MY boss is the bad guy and that I am her ally. Life is good.
Stupid bitch. Never underestimate me. I may seem weak and easy - but I was raised by the Bitch of the South and I can and I will be one step ahead of you.
I had a hella week at work. I have one employee that I kick myself in the ass daily for even hiring, who has been more than a handful for over a year now. She's one of those people who crave drama - who need constant drama in order to feel alive or some shit like that.
This week, she made 3 extremely good attempts at creating her needed drama with me and I am proud to say that I was able to thwart all 3 of her attempts. A year ago, I would have buckled and turned to mush and would be spending my weekend fretting over the upcoming investigation into my management style that would be sure to come on Monday and the resulting yelling festival I would receive from our President in which I would be stomped on until I cried for allowing her to win again.
But, with all her problems and headaches and drama, she has actually been a serious blessing to me in this way - I don't take shit anymore. She's made me wise or at least wiser. She's made me cautious of what I say and do as a manager. She's taught me how to remain calm and put personal feelings to the side. She's also taught me how to beat her at her own game...and I thank her for that.
On day 3 of her bullshit, I marched into my boss' office for the 3rd time and told him her shit that she was trying to create with me. But this time, before I left, I demanded that he step in, rather than throwing me under the bus as he normally does. And so, by the end of Friday, thanks to my craftiness in dealing with her, my boss deciding not to be a pansy, and a wonderful Human Resources lady - she was squashed and I even got to sit back and listen to her...apologize. Yes, apologize. Not only did she apologize, but now she thinks that MY boss is the bad guy and that I am her ally. Life is good.
Stupid bitch. Never underestimate me. I may seem weak and easy - but I was raised by the Bitch of the South and I can and I will be one step ahead of you.
Friday, January 16, 2009
Not sure what to think
Today is 5dpo - IF I ovulated and IF I got my days correct...those two IF's are bigger deals for me than more normal women.
I know that it is generally WAY too early for me to feel anything and that Clomid can play tricky little games on you in the wait - but I feel like general shit.
Seriously. I'm starving and yet can't think of anything I want to eat. I keep spacing out and just staring off into space - I'm belching like a fat sailor and I keep getting dizzy this afternoon.
ALLLLL of those can be attributed to Clomid, so I refuse to get excited. However, me and the sofa have a date tonight - and a 6 inch catfish poboy...me and the sofa and the poboy plan to have a lovely evening.
I know that it is generally WAY too early for me to feel anything and that Clomid can play tricky little games on you in the wait - but I feel like general shit.
Seriously. I'm starving and yet can't think of anything I want to eat. I keep spacing out and just staring off into space - I'm belching like a fat sailor and I keep getting dizzy this afternoon.
ALLLLL of those can be attributed to Clomid, so I refuse to get excited. However, me and the sofa have a date tonight - and a 6 inch catfish poboy...me and the sofa and the poboy plan to have a lovely evening.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Snezhanka
So as Room Mother, one of my duties that I knew about, and actually agreed to, was to prepare Luke's class' dish for Global Awareness Day. I have no say in the actual dish that is prepared; I must just do what I am told.
They sent home the recipe in his folder tonight. I have to make Snezhanka. Their country is Bulgaria. Without needing to Google it, I can assure you that Snezhanka is the closest substance to vomit that I have seen...like...ever.
It's a cucumber nastiness that involves squeezing out the juice from cucumbers and mixing it with yogurt (or yoghurt, as the recipe calls it).
Vomit.
Blech.
After much research, I've found about 9 other simple Bulgarian recipes that may actually be edible.
I'm debating fighting this. Even the recipe makes me gag for this shit.
Speaking of gagging, I'm 3dpo. WOO HOO!
And at this time I must give a huge shoutout to http://docgrumbles.wordpress.com/ and wish her the very bestest wishes that I can on a safe and healthy delivery of her baby girl.
They sent home the recipe in his folder tonight. I have to make Snezhanka. Their country is Bulgaria. Without needing to Google it, I can assure you that Snezhanka is the closest substance to vomit that I have seen...like...ever.
It's a cucumber nastiness that involves squeezing out the juice from cucumbers and mixing it with yogurt (or yoghurt, as the recipe calls it).
Vomit.
Blech.
After much research, I've found about 9 other simple Bulgarian recipes that may actually be edible.
I'm debating fighting this. Even the recipe makes me gag for this shit.
Speaking of gagging, I'm 3dpo. WOO HOO!
And at this time I must give a huge shoutout to http://docgrumbles.wordpress.com/ and wish her the very bestest wishes that I can on a safe and healthy delivery of her baby girl.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Weird chic
Tonight some of the playground moms were getting together at a local bar to get out of the house while our men and boys watched the BCS Championship game at home. Since the moment I got off of work, I was formulating excuses to get out of it. I'm not a big fan of bars, especially sports bars during a major football game and I'm not a really chit chatty human at all. "Girls night out" never thrilled me.
At about 6:20pm, I finally gave in and decided that I had to go and I went. There was a woman there that I had never met before. She was somehow a second cousing twice removed or something of another friend there. She also had an 8 year old son, so we all got into to talking pretty easily.
Her mother had just died via suicide two days before Christmas so much of the conversation began to center around topics of a spiritual nature...she obviously needed comforting and we were more than happy to oblige for this friendly new friend we had just acquired.
While talking, my friend asked me quietly to the side if I had ovulated yet this month. She spent 4 years and 4 miscarriages trying to have a second child so she shares a similar pain and is always interested in my journey. As soon as she asked me, new stranger friend gasped and said, "OH MY GOD YOU'RE TRYING TO HAVE A BABY?!?!?!" I was like, um, yeah, while secretly plotting my escape from this sudden turn of events that had placed me at the center of the conversation.
She rushed over to me and started saying, "I swear that I have never ever ever done anything like this in my life and I swear I'm not drunk, I swear I'm not crazy, but I just absolutely HAVE to touch you."
So...she did. She made me stand up and right there, in the middle of the bar I had a woman that I had never met in my life take my hands and pray...out loud...a prayer for conception this cycle.
Um.
Yeah.
I wasn't sure if I should be happy, or if I should run away screaming, "STRANGER DANGER".
She then sat next to me and spent the next half hour telling me that she has always believed that when one dies, another is born. Since her mother just died, she thought she would get pregnant this month even though she wasn't trying, and her period had just started and at the very second that my friend mentioned me trying to make a baby, she just knew that her mom was telling her, "HER, IT'S HER" and that she just had to touch me.
Um.
Yeah.
So, here I am a few hours later mulling these events over in my head. Half of me thinks she's the weirdest woman on earth and should be hospitalized or at the very least, medicated heavily.
The other half of me is touched by the love and warmth that this total stranger showed me tonight and can't help but think of the stranger man in church years ago who told me that I would become a mother in the year 2000 only 2 months before I tested positive for Luke and at that time I thought that HE was a wacko too.
Anyway, so that's it - I'm not sure what to think about it right now, but it happened and it is what it is, or whatever you perceive it to be.
But I swear, if I conceive this month, I swear I will fall to my knees and believe that some strange prophetic person came to me in that bar the same way that one came to me in church in January of 2000.
At about 6:20pm, I finally gave in and decided that I had to go and I went. There was a woman there that I had never met before. She was somehow a second cousing twice removed or something of another friend there. She also had an 8 year old son, so we all got into to talking pretty easily.
Her mother had just died via suicide two days before Christmas so much of the conversation began to center around topics of a spiritual nature...she obviously needed comforting and we were more than happy to oblige for this friendly new friend we had just acquired.
While talking, my friend asked me quietly to the side if I had ovulated yet this month. She spent 4 years and 4 miscarriages trying to have a second child so she shares a similar pain and is always interested in my journey. As soon as she asked me, new stranger friend gasped and said, "OH MY GOD YOU'RE TRYING TO HAVE A BABY?!?!?!" I was like, um, yeah, while secretly plotting my escape from this sudden turn of events that had placed me at the center of the conversation.
She rushed over to me and started saying, "I swear that I have never ever ever done anything like this in my life and I swear I'm not drunk, I swear I'm not crazy, but I just absolutely HAVE to touch you."
So...she did. She made me stand up and right there, in the middle of the bar I had a woman that I had never met in my life take my hands and pray...out loud...a prayer for conception this cycle.
Um.
Yeah.
I wasn't sure if I should be happy, or if I should run away screaming, "STRANGER DANGER".
She then sat next to me and spent the next half hour telling me that she has always believed that when one dies, another is born. Since her mother just died, she thought she would get pregnant this month even though she wasn't trying, and her period had just started and at the very second that my friend mentioned me trying to make a baby, she just knew that her mom was telling her, "HER, IT'S HER" and that she just had to touch me.
Um.
Yeah.
So, here I am a few hours later mulling these events over in my head. Half of me thinks she's the weirdest woman on earth and should be hospitalized or at the very least, medicated heavily.
The other half of me is touched by the love and warmth that this total stranger showed me tonight and can't help but think of the stranger man in church years ago who told me that I would become a mother in the year 2000 only 2 months before I tested positive for Luke and at that time I thought that HE was a wacko too.
Anyway, so that's it - I'm not sure what to think about it right now, but it happened and it is what it is, or whatever you perceive it to be.
But I swear, if I conceive this month, I swear I will fall to my knees and believe that some strange prophetic person came to me in that bar the same way that one came to me in church in January of 2000.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Love
Random things I love:
Sleeping late with nothing to do to make me have to get out of bed at a certain time.
The scent of a baby's breath right after they eat.
When my son wants to sleep in my bed - which is getting increasingly less and less every year.
Anything to do with pleasant solicited touch - pedicures, facials, massages, spur of the moment hair brushing from Ziggy.
A clean house and washed sheets.
A pat on the back at work (VERY rare).
A long drive completely alone with no one but my ipod.
The sound of waves and seagulls.
Elastic waist bands.
And finally on the list of random love that is surely not all inclusive - just what's in my head now - the dull constant ache of my ovaries responding to Clomid properly.
Yep, they are and that's all I'll say, lest I jinx anything that may or may not be occurring within those ovaries.
Sleeping late with nothing to do to make me have to get out of bed at a certain time.
The scent of a baby's breath right after they eat.
When my son wants to sleep in my bed - which is getting increasingly less and less every year.
Anything to do with pleasant solicited touch - pedicures, facials, massages, spur of the moment hair brushing from Ziggy.
A clean house and washed sheets.
A pat on the back at work (VERY rare).
A long drive completely alone with no one but my ipod.
The sound of waves and seagulls.
Elastic waist bands.
And finally on the list of random love that is surely not all inclusive - just what's in my head now - the dull constant ache of my ovaries responding to Clomid properly.
Yep, they are and that's all I'll say, lest I jinx anything that may or may not be occurring within those ovaries.
Friday, January 2, 2009
The bearded lady
Most women don't need to fret over the maintenance of their beards, right? There are about 999 possible symptoms of PCOS - one of which is facial hair. Of course, out of all possible 999 symptoms - this is my symptom of which I struggle with the most.
I don't just have a stray chin hair or two - I have a full grown 14 year old boy's beard if I allow it grow more than a week.
I've thought about the laser thing many times, but once you actually contemplate the steps of it - it's not all that great. For about $3,000 I could possibly have a 60% reduction in the hair - maybe - not guaranteed. And the procedure is painful and stretches over months of dealing with sunburned skin, peeling and not being able to remove any hair in between sessions. I'd have to take a 3 month leave from work to do it.
So I have many methods of removing this hair because one method does not work on all areas. The underneath of my chin - like the underchin/throat area MUST be literally shaved daily. This is my worst area. It's very thick and very stubbly and without a daily shave, it's extremely noticable.
The cheeks and side burns get a depilatory every 2 - 3 days and then there is the constant plucking of the strays - constant plucking.
This is by far the most embarrasing part of my life. I began removing the hair at the age of 18 when a kid in the camp that I was a counselor for asked me why I was growing a beard. Maybe that's why I hate all kids except my own.
So this is my cross to bear. It's my burden, my crap hand I was dealt in life that I just need to deal with on a daily basis and I do. And I thank God so much and so often that he's blessed me with a very understanding husband. Many men I'm sure would shy away from the bearded lady, but my husband is quite the contrary. He'll sit and talk razors with me, and help me pluck the ingrowns that I occasionally get and he's never not for one single second made me feel ugly or less of a woman because of my beard.
I have no idea on earth what compelled me to share this. Maybe some young girl just beginning her own bearded lady struggle will stumble upon this entry one day and it'll bless her - or maybe you can all sit around and have a good laugh at my expense.
Either way, as I sat before the blank screen trying to think of what to post about why fiddling with a really bad ingrown hair under my chin, it popped in my head that I should share this. And that's it - I am the bearded lady.
I don't just have a stray chin hair or two - I have a full grown 14 year old boy's beard if I allow it grow more than a week.
I've thought about the laser thing many times, but once you actually contemplate the steps of it - it's not all that great. For about $3,000 I could possibly have a 60% reduction in the hair - maybe - not guaranteed. And the procedure is painful and stretches over months of dealing with sunburned skin, peeling and not being able to remove any hair in between sessions. I'd have to take a 3 month leave from work to do it.
So I have many methods of removing this hair because one method does not work on all areas. The underneath of my chin - like the underchin/throat area MUST be literally shaved daily. This is my worst area. It's very thick and very stubbly and without a daily shave, it's extremely noticable.
The cheeks and side burns get a depilatory every 2 - 3 days and then there is the constant plucking of the strays - constant plucking.
This is by far the most embarrasing part of my life. I began removing the hair at the age of 18 when a kid in the camp that I was a counselor for asked me why I was growing a beard. Maybe that's why I hate all kids except my own.
So this is my cross to bear. It's my burden, my crap hand I was dealt in life that I just need to deal with on a daily basis and I do. And I thank God so much and so often that he's blessed me with a very understanding husband. Many men I'm sure would shy away from the bearded lady, but my husband is quite the contrary. He'll sit and talk razors with me, and help me pluck the ingrowns that I occasionally get and he's never not for one single second made me feel ugly or less of a woman because of my beard.
I have no idea on earth what compelled me to share this. Maybe some young girl just beginning her own bearded lady struggle will stumble upon this entry one day and it'll bless her - or maybe you can all sit around and have a good laugh at my expense.
Either way, as I sat before the blank screen trying to think of what to post about why fiddling with a really bad ingrown hair under my chin, it popped in my head that I should share this. And that's it - I am the bearded lady.
Thursday, January 1, 2009
How am I still functioning???
I'm currently in that type of exhaustion where I absolutely must keep moving. If I stop and sit, even for a minute, I may crash and be unable to move for 20 hours straight.
I worked all day on New Year's Eve and even worked almost 2 hours past when our office officially closed for the day. Our entire system for our department crashed and since it was end of month, we had no choice but to stay until everything was fixed and we could finish our jobs.
Then I came home and from 6:00pm until almost 3:00am, I literally did not sit down...not one single time. I was setting up for party, being hostess, supervising kids with fireworks, settling down my son and his friend who slept over and caring for a jackass husband who has a pretty gnarly firework burn on his hand.
Then I was up at 7:30am to make breakfast for the boys, feed husband, clean up from party and do general chores. Then I realized that I absolutely couldn't crash yet, so I decided to take down all of the Christmas decorations inside and outside, cut the grass on the front lawn and then I folded 3 loads of clothes.
I'm like in auto pilot and have no clue how I haven't collapsed yet. The boys will need lunch soon, so I know that I can't crash yet...not yet. Husband is FINALLY waking up from his nice 10 hour night of sleep (BASTARD). Once he gets up and gets moving...I think that'll be it - I don't think I can make it much longer.
Son's friend called his dad and begged his dad to let him stay until tonight - like 10:00pm - kid's dad said yes! Oh God - that means lunch and dinner for both boys and 9 more hours of argument control (8 year boys argue - ALOT). While I'm exhausted from it, having the kid here is nice and Luke is having so much freakin fun.
OK, now I'm just rambling. HAPPY NEW YEAR to all! My resolution? Well, for now, my resolution is to sleep and then sleep and then sleep a little more...soon...eventually.
I worked all day on New Year's Eve and even worked almost 2 hours past when our office officially closed for the day. Our entire system for our department crashed and since it was end of month, we had no choice but to stay until everything was fixed and we could finish our jobs.
Then I came home and from 6:00pm until almost 3:00am, I literally did not sit down...not one single time. I was setting up for party, being hostess, supervising kids with fireworks, settling down my son and his friend who slept over and caring for a jackass husband who has a pretty gnarly firework burn on his hand.
Then I was up at 7:30am to make breakfast for the boys, feed husband, clean up from party and do general chores. Then I realized that I absolutely couldn't crash yet, so I decided to take down all of the Christmas decorations inside and outside, cut the grass on the front lawn and then I folded 3 loads of clothes.
I'm like in auto pilot and have no clue how I haven't collapsed yet. The boys will need lunch soon, so I know that I can't crash yet...not yet. Husband is FINALLY waking up from his nice 10 hour night of sleep (BASTARD). Once he gets up and gets moving...I think that'll be it - I don't think I can make it much longer.
Son's friend called his dad and begged his dad to let him stay until tonight - like 10:00pm - kid's dad said yes! Oh God - that means lunch and dinner for both boys and 9 more hours of argument control (8 year boys argue - ALOT). While I'm exhausted from it, having the kid here is nice and Luke is having so much freakin fun.
OK, now I'm just rambling. HAPPY NEW YEAR to all! My resolution? Well, for now, my resolution is to sleep and then sleep and then sleep a little more...soon...eventually.
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