Yesterday, as Luke’s class Room Mother, I got to spend 3 hours in his class making Halloween T-shirts for them to wear on Friday. Trust me – a picture will follow once he brings home his dried shirt, because it’s too good to pass up.
Both 2nd grade classes were making the same shirts with their respective room mothers. My child’s teacher really missed out, because she selected the one person on earth who is 100% inept at all things crafty. Seriously, I have no skills…at…all. But hey, she came asking me to be room mother and not the other way around, so she gets what she gets.
The other 2nd grade room mother is my exact opposite. It’s almost as though she was born to play the role of room mother. I’m the working room mother who has to break her neck just to find time to obtain and put together 20 Halloween goody bags. Picture me ironing/folding clothes/calling out spelling words/stirring a pot and making goody bags all at one time and THAT is a typical evening in the life of me.
She is the stay at home room mother who apparently has so much free time on her hands that she can not only make Halloween goody bags, but she can make homemade paper mache’ bags to boot. (No offense to my stay at home peeps) Us working moms just get a bit envious of you occasionally, and have notions of you lollygagging about home painting your toe nails and taking bubble baths even though I know that isn’t true.
Ms. Perfect Room Mother arrived with her kids’ shirts 50% done by her and then proceeded to have each child come out of the classroom one at a time so that she could perfectly manage (control) the rest of their shirts.
Then there was me – I came in with white shirts and a bag o supplies and just let all the kids go to town at one time.
The results? Well, her 20 kids have gorgeous Halloween shirts that I would actually consider purchasing if I were in a shop and saw them. My 20 kids? Oh goodness. I wouldn’t use their shirts as hand towels. Our spider webs are blobs of black paint (especially the boys’). Our orange air brushing is splotchy and wild. They are just a mess. However, MY 20 kids had a WONDERFUL time.
They all hung on me when I was leaving and I even got TWO shameless hugs from my own son during the 3 hours (he barely hugs me in private anymore, much less in front of 19 classmates). Later that night, he asked me if I could puhlease come back to his school soon and do another art project. (yeah, me who has the crafting skills of a 4 year old).
The other mother? I don’t think that half of her class even realized that they had done an art project, much less even realized that she was there. They had to watch a movie while she pulled them out one by one. They probably just thought that she was there to show them her shirts that she made for them because all they actually got to do was press down the spider sponge one time after she had already applied the paint for them. My kids were covered in paint and glue and googly eyes and were laughing and just thrilled to be alive.
So, I have decided that our shirts suck and they are a mess and borderline embarrassing, but dammit we had WAY more fun than Ms. Perfect’s class did.
On a side note, and the reason for my title of this post…do parents just not care about their kids anymore? Before I left, the teacher had the kids in Luke’s class do a little Halloween skit for me that they had learned. As I sat there and looked at 12 boys standing in a row, I realized, my son was the ONLY kid who had his shoes tied, had his hair brushed, didn’t have sleep stuck in his eyes, didn’t have wrinkles in his shirt, didn’t have wrinkled pants, had his shirt fully tucked in – AND his shirt was white as snow and made all of the other boys’ shirts look yellow.
I was so proud! Who would have thought that this overly busy, overloaded, overworked, exhausted as all hell, barely getting it all done, working mom – could have the cleanest and neatest and sharpest kid in the class.
P.S. - Sales Managers who come in my office at 4:52pm and ask me to research tax info ASAP EMERGENCY STAT - well - they suck ass. Gotta go.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Monday, October 27, 2008
Cold
Short post, very short, just to say that I HATE/LOATHE/DETEST/DESPISE the cold. Miserable. And it's only 50 degrees outside and I'm already that miserable. The though of February makes me ill. I've always hated the cold. Although fall is lovely, once the actual cold hits (which to me, in Southern Louisiana is anything under 60 degrees) - I am miserable.
Cold pisses me off too. It's not just a dislike - I literally get PISSED OFF when I'm cold. All I want to do is sit inside and be toasty and snuggled.
I am 100% Louisiana blooded - swamp blood, marsh blood, alligator blood - we don't like cold. no way. no how.
April? I hope to see you SOOOOON!!!
Cold pisses me off too. It's not just a dislike - I literally get PISSED OFF when I'm cold. All I want to do is sit inside and be toasty and snuggled.
I am 100% Louisiana blooded - swamp blood, marsh blood, alligator blood - we don't like cold. no way. no how.
April? I hope to see you SOOOOON!!!
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
This time of year reminds me of that night in the truck...
I have a photograph of my husband on my desk. It is not the best photograph that he has ever taken. In fact, it may be the worst. He appears sweaty and sallow. His skin seems clammy and almost a translucent green color. His Adam’s Apple is jutting out from his neck, which it normally doesn’t do. In this photo, he is 30 pounds skinnier than most anyone has ever seen him. He appears weak, sickly even. His eyes show a mixture of absolute bliss and pure panic and fear. His mouth is turned up into a smile that looks as though it could start to quiver at any moment.
When you look at the photo as a whole part, you may wonder if this man had a terminal illness – is he dying? When you pick apart every piece of the face, then you begin to see the story unfold.
When people at work see this photo, they usually ask if Ziggy is ill in the photo, or if he had cancer or something – he does look that bad and most everyone at work knows him, because he did work here years ago.
And yet, with all of the bad things that I know and that I hear about this photograph, it is still the ONE photo that I refuse to ever move away from my line of vision. This photograph means more to me than almost any other photograph that I own. It humbles me and brings me feelings of warmth towards him during times when I want to hit him and it reminds me of who I am and what I can handle.
This photograph is the very first one that was ever taken of Ziggy where there are no lies behind his eyes, no double life hidden inside his brain. This photograph was taken on 12/24/05; two weeks after Ziggy stepped into the world of the clean and sober for the first time and for God willing, the rest of his life.
He was suffering in this photo. Physically, he was still experiencing painful withdrawals. He was not sleeping well. He was still crying out and screaming and thrashing in his sleep. He was not eating yet. He was probably closer to death than any of us realized or cared to admit. He was panicked and fearful of old friends knocking on the door when they figured out that he had changed his cell phone number. He was paranoid that I would change my mind and withdraw my hand from his hand and decide that, no, I cannot stand by your side through this and I cannot forgive you enough yet to put myself to the side for a little while longer while we get you well.
Anyway, for those of you who think you know a lot about that time of my life, there is so much you don’t know. For those of you who don’t know anything about that time in my life, get ready. Now that the first few cold fronts have blown in, the memories have begun rushing in and so have the dreams. Ziggy’s three year sobriety anniversary is coming up, and while I love to celebrate this time of year, I also loathe it. The months of October and November 2005 were the worst, the rock bottom, the near death, the hell before the dawn. While most of the city was suffering in the aftermath of Katrina, rebuilding my home was nothing compared to the events that followed on the Saturday in October that Ziggy returned home from where he was evacuated in Dallas.
When you look at the photo as a whole part, you may wonder if this man had a terminal illness – is he dying? When you pick apart every piece of the face, then you begin to see the story unfold.
When people at work see this photo, they usually ask if Ziggy is ill in the photo, or if he had cancer or something – he does look that bad and most everyone at work knows him, because he did work here years ago.
And yet, with all of the bad things that I know and that I hear about this photograph, it is still the ONE photo that I refuse to ever move away from my line of vision. This photograph means more to me than almost any other photograph that I own. It humbles me and brings me feelings of warmth towards him during times when I want to hit him and it reminds me of who I am and what I can handle.
This photograph is the very first one that was ever taken of Ziggy where there are no lies behind his eyes, no double life hidden inside his brain. This photograph was taken on 12/24/05; two weeks after Ziggy stepped into the world of the clean and sober for the first time and for God willing, the rest of his life.
He was suffering in this photo. Physically, he was still experiencing painful withdrawals. He was not sleeping well. He was still crying out and screaming and thrashing in his sleep. He was not eating yet. He was probably closer to death than any of us realized or cared to admit. He was panicked and fearful of old friends knocking on the door when they figured out that he had changed his cell phone number. He was paranoid that I would change my mind and withdraw my hand from his hand and decide that, no, I cannot stand by your side through this and I cannot forgive you enough yet to put myself to the side for a little while longer while we get you well.
Anyway, for those of you who think you know a lot about that time of my life, there is so much you don’t know. For those of you who don’t know anything about that time in my life, get ready. Now that the first few cold fronts have blown in, the memories have begun rushing in and so have the dreams. Ziggy’s three year sobriety anniversary is coming up, and while I love to celebrate this time of year, I also loathe it. The months of October and November 2005 were the worst, the rock bottom, the near death, the hell before the dawn. While most of the city was suffering in the aftermath of Katrina, rebuilding my home was nothing compared to the events that followed on the Saturday in October that Ziggy returned home from where he was evacuated in Dallas.
Monday, October 20, 2008
On strike
My period arrived with a vengeance this morning. I woke up, checked my temp, saw that it had dipped back into the 97's and bam, I was flowing before I got in the shower.
In honor of this, my 14th month since beginning the conception journey, I took a sick day. I took a day ALL for me me me me to just sit at home and watch pay per view movies and maybe even cry later if I feel like it.
And now the official "break" begins. No more trying to conceive until 2008 is over - nothing, nada, zip, zero, zilch. No watches, no Clomid, no temps, no checking mucus and timing sex and peeing on sticks and worrying/waiting/begging. None of it.
Infertility? - I will revisit you in 2009. I will enjoy my 31st birthday this Thursday (GAH!) without you rearing your ugly head. I will chow down for Thanksgiving and enjoy Christmas without you nosing around to ruin the fun as you did last year.
I am done with you for the next 3 cycles (which will probably end up only being 1 since I won't medicate myself to make it otherwise).
This sucks.
In honor of this, my 14th month since beginning the conception journey, I took a sick day. I took a day ALL for me me me me to just sit at home and watch pay per view movies and maybe even cry later if I feel like it.
And now the official "break" begins. No more trying to conceive until 2008 is over - nothing, nada, zip, zero, zilch. No watches, no Clomid, no temps, no checking mucus and timing sex and peeing on sticks and worrying/waiting/begging. None of it.
Infertility? - I will revisit you in 2009. I will enjoy my 31st birthday this Thursday (GAH!) without you rearing your ugly head. I will chow down for Thanksgiving and enjoy Christmas without you nosing around to ruin the fun as you did last year.
I am done with you for the next 3 cycles (which will probably end up only being 1 since I won't medicate myself to make it otherwise).
This sucks.
Friday, October 17, 2008
Random
I've had the hiccups terribly off and on all day. Not just your normal hiccups, but the kind that really piss you off and jolt your body in great spasms.
Luke's dad actually came to his game tonight. That was rare and I wonder what brought him there. I know it wasn't the joy of seeing his son play because he sat next to me and berated the child's abilities through the whole game. Ah screw it, at least his being there saved me a long car ride tonight and for that I am thankful.
Our outside cat, Big Effin Red (he's a monster red/orange tabby), as we affectionately call him, has another Big Effin Blackie cat trying to hone in on his territory (and I say Blackie as in, he is a black cat, people). We love BFR and he has become like our yard dog. It was hilarious tonight to see me and Ziggy standing on opposite ends of the yard attempting to thwart Big Effin Blackie's proposed turf war by squirting him with Luke's water guns every time he came near. That is one ballsy cat. Good times. Don't worry, Big Effin Red - we got your back.
And I still ain't pregnant. Although I am 2 days late now and my temps are still way high. Negative tests though. Poo.
Ziggy is calling me to bed, I need some sleep. G'nite.
Luke's dad actually came to his game tonight. That was rare and I wonder what brought him there. I know it wasn't the joy of seeing his son play because he sat next to me and berated the child's abilities through the whole game. Ah screw it, at least his being there saved me a long car ride tonight and for that I am thankful.
Our outside cat, Big Effin Red (he's a monster red/orange tabby), as we affectionately call him, has another Big Effin Blackie cat trying to hone in on his territory (and I say Blackie as in, he is a black cat, people). We love BFR and he has become like our yard dog. It was hilarious tonight to see me and Ziggy standing on opposite ends of the yard attempting to thwart Big Effin Blackie's proposed turf war by squirting him with Luke's water guns every time he came near. That is one ballsy cat. Good times. Don't worry, Big Effin Red - we got your back.
And I still ain't pregnant. Although I am 2 days late now and my temps are still way high. Negative tests though. Poo.
Ziggy is calling me to bed, I need some sleep. G'nite.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
With tears in my eyes...
This is my first blog post that is written with tears streaming down my face and dripping all over the keyboard and snot hanging out of my nose. Will it be my last? Probably not, but it is the first.
You should see my boy light up when it comes to football. He has a talent, a gift. Every coach sees it. His step father sees it. My mother sees it. Fathers of his friends see it. He is the ONLY 7 year old on his All Star team, and a starting center at that.
So why am I crying so? Because Luke's real father thinks that football is nothing more than "an attempt to steal HIS time away from HIS son." He says things like, "it's not like he's even good" and "I bet the coach tells every mom with boobs that her kid is great."
Luke's Jamboree is this weekend which is basically a weekend celebration of football at his playground. There are booths and food and beer for all. It's a weekend of fun and screaming and sweating and pride. Luke has 4 games this weekend. A rough schedule for a 7 year old? Yes. However, he is THRILLED and totally psyched up and ready to kick butt.
And as usual, I had to be the bad guy that had to call his father regarding his schedule. I have just spent an hour and a half literally begging a man that I almost cannot stand to allow MY son to play football this weekend. I was told things like, "he's only 7 and he'll forget all about it if we tell him he has to quit" and "there comes a time when parents need to stand in and say no to their children".
FUCK HIM.
Luke will NOT forget it if we make him quit. Luke remembers that the Easter bunny hid eggs around the house stuffed with quarters when he was THREE. He remembers things from when he was 2 that he will repeat out of the blue and shock the hell out of me.
I could understand if his grades were slipping. Then, yes, I would step in. But my child has my gift that not many ever understood in me, and I now see developing in him...he, like me, NEVER has to study. We are freaks who absorb knowledge in class and don't forget it. The kid has not only straight A's this quarter, but straight 100's this quarter and ask me how much I've studied with him? Zilch. I know, it's sickening but it's my gift too. I comfort myself with this gift when I see skinny bitches who can eat all day long and still be skinny bitches.
I digress.
And so, after an hour and a half, this is as far as I got. If I "want" him to play football (because of course it's ME who is forcing him to play) then I have to drive to and from Asshole's house FOUR times this weekend to pick Luke up, dress him out, get him to his game and then drive him back to Asshole. Asshole lives 27 miles away. Four games times two drives times a half hour each is four hours I will have to spend driving my child this weekend. Add to that 4 hours of games, and 2 hours of practice - oh and throw in that wedding on Saturday night for Ziggy's cousin he never met and all I can say is that I may need a drink at some point this weekend.
So now I have the task of telling Luke, while holding back tears that no baby, daddy did not say it was ok for you to just spend the weekend with me, which is what he really wanted. He even said as I put him to bed, "don't worry mom, I'll pray that daddy just lets me stay with you this weekend."
Pray harder, baby, pray harder.
You should see my boy light up when it comes to football. He has a talent, a gift. Every coach sees it. His step father sees it. My mother sees it. Fathers of his friends see it. He is the ONLY 7 year old on his All Star team, and a starting center at that.
So why am I crying so? Because Luke's real father thinks that football is nothing more than "an attempt to steal HIS time away from HIS son." He says things like, "it's not like he's even good" and "I bet the coach tells every mom with boobs that her kid is great."
Luke's Jamboree is this weekend which is basically a weekend celebration of football at his playground. There are booths and food and beer for all. It's a weekend of fun and screaming and sweating and pride. Luke has 4 games this weekend. A rough schedule for a 7 year old? Yes. However, he is THRILLED and totally psyched up and ready to kick butt.
And as usual, I had to be the bad guy that had to call his father regarding his schedule. I have just spent an hour and a half literally begging a man that I almost cannot stand to allow MY son to play football this weekend. I was told things like, "he's only 7 and he'll forget all about it if we tell him he has to quit" and "there comes a time when parents need to stand in and say no to their children".
FUCK HIM.
Luke will NOT forget it if we make him quit. Luke remembers that the Easter bunny hid eggs around the house stuffed with quarters when he was THREE. He remembers things from when he was 2 that he will repeat out of the blue and shock the hell out of me.
I could understand if his grades were slipping. Then, yes, I would step in. But my child has my gift that not many ever understood in me, and I now see developing in him...he, like me, NEVER has to study. We are freaks who absorb knowledge in class and don't forget it. The kid has not only straight A's this quarter, but straight 100's this quarter and ask me how much I've studied with him? Zilch. I know, it's sickening but it's my gift too. I comfort myself with this gift when I see skinny bitches who can eat all day long and still be skinny bitches.
I digress.
And so, after an hour and a half, this is as far as I got. If I "want" him to play football (because of course it's ME who is forcing him to play) then I have to drive to and from Asshole's house FOUR times this weekend to pick Luke up, dress him out, get him to his game and then drive him back to Asshole. Asshole lives 27 miles away. Four games times two drives times a half hour each is four hours I will have to spend driving my child this weekend. Add to that 4 hours of games, and 2 hours of practice - oh and throw in that wedding on Saturday night for Ziggy's cousin he never met and all I can say is that I may need a drink at some point this weekend.
So now I have the task of telling Luke, while holding back tears that no baby, daddy did not say it was ok for you to just spend the weekend with me, which is what he really wanted. He even said as I put him to bed, "don't worry mom, I'll pray that daddy just lets me stay with you this weekend."
Pray harder, baby, pray harder.
Monday, October 13, 2008
What happened to respecting your elders....
In which I introduce you to my sister, Scarlett O'Hara. I have two sisters - one of them is the one I introduce you to today. The other is Jackie Joyner-Kersee whose impressive speed with which she ran away from her family years ago could set records (but she's fairly normal lately, so you may not hear of her much since normal = boring in our family).
My older sister, 3 years my senior, and the mother of my twin nephews is one of the largest bitches on earth. No. That's for true. She's the type of human that I could despise, loathe and detest if I weren't a blood relation.
My sister has hated my mother and I as much as she has loved us since the time she was a teenager. While my mom and I were rockin out to Friday night videos, eating popcorn and drinking cokes, my sister was in her room with cucumbers on her eyes a beauty mask on her face and thoughts of escape on her mind. Think of Goldie Hawn pre-bump-on-head in Overboard...now you are getting close.
We are trash to her. We are common and we embarrass her. We always knew that she would marry "well". Marrying well would be her ticket out and away from my mom's standard black Ford Escort and her permed hair and hooped earrings and her cigarettes and her foul mouth.
And so she did - she "escaped" and managed to marry up in her eyes - into a marriage with a man as judgmental as she is and she has earned in laws who were just as trash as we were until striking oil on a plot of land made them wealthy and forgetful of their roots.
I'll give you two examples to get them off of my chest and then I will hopefully be able to let the anger go for another day and maybe this will give you a taste of sweet Scarlett.
1.) The twins are 6 weeks old and NO ONE from Scarlett O'Hara's side of the family has received photos yet. I was able to swipe and email to myself one batch from the first day that they were born, but beyond that no one has received a single photo. We know for a fact that her husband emails photos out regularly, at least weekly, and we are never included on the emails. We know for a fact that one friend of Scarlett's gave her a photo of Scarlett holding the two boys in the hospital in a lovely frame...now where could she have gotten such a photo? And it is not that we haven't asked. My mother has asked for a picture to show her friends at work and at church for weeks since she doesn't have a computer, and she has not gotten a single shot. And don't tell me it's because Scarlett is too busy, because precious girl only goes to the hospital for about 2 hours a day lately.
2.) My mother went at lunch today to see the boys and possibly hold one. My sister called her when she was in the parking lot and told my mother, "make sure you finish that cigarette well before you come in because my children can smell it on you and it's disgusting". Oh god help me from killing her. This is OUR MOTHER, you bitch!
My mom smokes and she curses and she listens to music like Ratt and Kiss and god dammit just leave her alone. That woman knew a tougher life than most of us will ever know. She's in extremely great shape and very healthy and if a cigarette calms her nerves before seeing YOU, you bitch, then leave her alone. At least she's not a gambler like your husband...oh did I say that? Woops. Sorry.
Does my mother aggravate me? Sure as shoot she does. But I love her and respect her and would give her a roof over her head and treat her well until the day I die because I remember what my sister has forgotten - I remember my mom cleaning houses on the side to afford our private schooling and I remember her being there when my precious Luke was born and my post partum depression couldn't even slack off enough for me to look at him for the first few days. It was my mother who pulled me out of those dark days and introduced me to the most precious boy on earth.
Anyway, I wanted to introduce you to Scarlett, because you may hear of her often, particularly with the birth of these babies that my mother and I have to practically beg to be a part of their lives.
Oh and I GOT INTERNET!!!!! WOO HOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! My boss finally broke down and gave me one of the spare wireless cards that he had that they were paying for anyway and was just sitting going to waste and now it's mine and now I have fabulous Internet without having to pay a dime for it. God is good.
My older sister, 3 years my senior, and the mother of my twin nephews is one of the largest bitches on earth. No. That's for true. She's the type of human that I could despise, loathe and detest if I weren't a blood relation.
My sister has hated my mother and I as much as she has loved us since the time she was a teenager. While my mom and I were rockin out to Friday night videos, eating popcorn and drinking cokes, my sister was in her room with cucumbers on her eyes a beauty mask on her face and thoughts of escape on her mind. Think of Goldie Hawn pre-bump-on-head in Overboard...now you are getting close.
We are trash to her. We are common and we embarrass her. We always knew that she would marry "well". Marrying well would be her ticket out and away from my mom's standard black Ford Escort and her permed hair and hooped earrings and her cigarettes and her foul mouth.
And so she did - she "escaped" and managed to marry up in her eyes - into a marriage with a man as judgmental as she is and she has earned in laws who were just as trash as we were until striking oil on a plot of land made them wealthy and forgetful of their roots.
I'll give you two examples to get them off of my chest and then I will hopefully be able to let the anger go for another day and maybe this will give you a taste of sweet Scarlett.
1.) The twins are 6 weeks old and NO ONE from Scarlett O'Hara's side of the family has received photos yet. I was able to swipe and email to myself one batch from the first day that they were born, but beyond that no one has received a single photo. We know for a fact that her husband emails photos out regularly, at least weekly, and we are never included on the emails. We know for a fact that one friend of Scarlett's gave her a photo of Scarlett holding the two boys in the hospital in a lovely frame...now where could she have gotten such a photo? And it is not that we haven't asked. My mother has asked for a picture to show her friends at work and at church for weeks since she doesn't have a computer, and she has not gotten a single shot. And don't tell me it's because Scarlett is too busy, because precious girl only goes to the hospital for about 2 hours a day lately.
2.) My mother went at lunch today to see the boys and possibly hold one. My sister called her when she was in the parking lot and told my mother, "make sure you finish that cigarette well before you come in because my children can smell it on you and it's disgusting". Oh god help me from killing her. This is OUR MOTHER, you bitch!
My mom smokes and she curses and she listens to music like Ratt and Kiss and god dammit just leave her alone. That woman knew a tougher life than most of us will ever know. She's in extremely great shape and very healthy and if a cigarette calms her nerves before seeing YOU, you bitch, then leave her alone. At least she's not a gambler like your husband...oh did I say that? Woops. Sorry.
Does my mother aggravate me? Sure as shoot she does. But I love her and respect her and would give her a roof over her head and treat her well until the day I die because I remember what my sister has forgotten - I remember my mom cleaning houses on the side to afford our private schooling and I remember her being there when my precious Luke was born and my post partum depression couldn't even slack off enough for me to look at him for the first few days. It was my mother who pulled me out of those dark days and introduced me to the most precious boy on earth.
Anyway, I wanted to introduce you to Scarlett, because you may hear of her often, particularly with the birth of these babies that my mother and I have to practically beg to be a part of their lives.
Oh and I GOT INTERNET!!!!! WOO HOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! My boss finally broke down and gave me one of the spare wireless cards that he had that they were paying for anyway and was just sitting going to waste and now it's mine and now I have fabulous Internet without having to pay a dime for it. God is good.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Hurry, before they catch me....
I figured that since it's back to work tomorrow and gawd knows when I'll have computer access again, I should post again while I had internet access and a minute of quiet.
I took my first pregnancy test this morning, negative. Of course, what did I expect? But it still stung like a huge mamba jamba jellyfish. I woke up with a mild fever (in the uppper 99's) - isn't that supposed to be very promising? I also had some mild menstrual cramping this morning. I've forced myself not to pay attention to days, but I'm pretty sure that my period is due sometime between now and Wednesday - so here we go...let the disappointment, feelings of inadequacy, depression and self loathing commence!
I got to hold a twin finally this week! My sister's boys are finally a robust 4 pounds each. I held the one that is named after his asshole father. I know it's not fair for the poor infant, but my mother and I very guilt-fully (not sure if that is a word) favor the one NOT named after the asshole father. It's just so hard to speak his name to a baby with love in your voice when the person that you've known for years who holds that name is a total prick of the elephantitis variety. Especially when prick father is in the room and can hear you speaking his own name in that baby voice. Puke.
They've both had their oxygen tubes removed and will be introduced to the boob this week rather than being fed through tubes in their guts. Very exciting. Plus, they are out of their tiny incubators and into a plexiglass open faced box where they can lay side by side.
In other news: I had my credit card stolen at the oil change place yesterday and about an hour after I left the oil change place, my credit card company called me to report "suspicious activity" on my account. After hours on the phone and much drama, the oil change place busted the person using my card on the company computer to try and buy things. Turns out there was a video camera on the ceiling pointed directly at that computer. Gah! That was stressful/lucky/wild. (Little known fact - my mom does the books for the oil change place, and so that's how I now know all the down low info). Now I'm am tapping my toes for my lifetime pass for free oil changes. What? They don't give those out? Turds!
Again, I'm so sorry not focus on one subject, or to be hilarious, or entertain you in any way - it's just that time is short and I still have 3 other blogs to read and catch up on before I get kicked off this computer.
Oh and Ms. Lan, if you read this, did you fall off the face of the earth? I'm feeling unloved and forgotten!
I took my first pregnancy test this morning, negative. Of course, what did I expect? But it still stung like a huge mamba jamba jellyfish. I woke up with a mild fever (in the uppper 99's) - isn't that supposed to be very promising? I also had some mild menstrual cramping this morning. I've forced myself not to pay attention to days, but I'm pretty sure that my period is due sometime between now and Wednesday - so here we go...let the disappointment, feelings of inadequacy, depression and self loathing commence!
I got to hold a twin finally this week! My sister's boys are finally a robust 4 pounds each. I held the one that is named after his asshole father. I know it's not fair for the poor infant, but my mother and I very guilt-fully (not sure if that is a word) favor the one NOT named after the asshole father. It's just so hard to speak his name to a baby with love in your voice when the person that you've known for years who holds that name is a total prick of the elephantitis variety. Especially when prick father is in the room and can hear you speaking his own name in that baby voice. Puke.
They've both had their oxygen tubes removed and will be introduced to the boob this week rather than being fed through tubes in their guts. Very exciting. Plus, they are out of their tiny incubators and into a plexiglass open faced box where they can lay side by side.
In other news: I had my credit card stolen at the oil change place yesterday and about an hour after I left the oil change place, my credit card company called me to report "suspicious activity" on my account. After hours on the phone and much drama, the oil change place busted the person using my card on the company computer to try and buy things. Turns out there was a video camera on the ceiling pointed directly at that computer. Gah! That was stressful/lucky/wild. (Little known fact - my mom does the books for the oil change place, and so that's how I now know all the down low info). Now I'm am tapping my toes for my lifetime pass for free oil changes. What? They don't give those out? Turds!
Again, I'm so sorry not focus on one subject, or to be hilarious, or entertain you in any way - it's just that time is short and I still have 3 other blogs to read and catch up on before I get kicked off this computer.
Oh and Ms. Lan, if you read this, did you fall off the face of the earth? I'm feeling unloved and forgotten!
Saturday, October 11, 2008
Soooo Sorry
Where in the hell have I been? Well, work is now monitoring our internet usage. No one knows except management so far, so since I got the info on the down low and I know exactly who has been assigned to monitor our internet usage - it's best for me not to show visits to this blog at work.
Then, to make matters worse, my computer at home is broken - AGAIN!!! GRRRRRR!
So I'm at my mother in law's house using their computer and feeling very weird about them having this blog in their history.
I don't have very long - I just wanted to say that I have so much to tell you all, and I haven't been able to read ANY of your blogs this past week either. I feel so cut off from the whole world.
My father in law is a Second Life addict and honestly spends up to 12 hours a day on Second Life - he's tapping his toes to get his computer back, so since I already got my bills paid, I need to jet.
I'm so sorry I haven't been around and the computer will hopefully be fixed on Monday. I miss you all and I miss your blogs and I hope to get caught up with everyone very soon.
Oh, and I haven't tested yet - I have ZERO symptoms. My hopes are SLIM but I do plan to test by Monday.
Smooches!
Then, to make matters worse, my computer at home is broken - AGAIN!!! GRRRRRR!
So I'm at my mother in law's house using their computer and feeling very weird about them having this blog in their history.
I don't have very long - I just wanted to say that I have so much to tell you all, and I haven't been able to read ANY of your blogs this past week either. I feel so cut off from the whole world.
My father in law is a Second Life addict and honestly spends up to 12 hours a day on Second Life - he's tapping his toes to get his computer back, so since I already got my bills paid, I need to jet.
I'm so sorry I haven't been around and the computer will hopefully be fixed on Monday. I miss you all and I miss your blogs and I hope to get caught up with everyone very soon.
Oh, and I haven't tested yet - I have ZERO symptoms. My hopes are SLIM but I do plan to test by Monday.
Smooches!
Sunday, October 5, 2008
Just chill
Well, since I only had actual sex one time during the entire 6 fertile days, my hope to reality ratio is something like 1:100000000000000.
But, I'm unusually ok about it. All of my freaking out and panic and general psychosis that was displayed earlier this week is now gone and I'm just...chill.
I wonder how that happened. I haven't even bought any tests yet - which is very unusual for me by this point, seeing that I am officially in the anxiety laden "dpo" days.
I even had a daiquiri last night...no, make that 2 daiquiris and I just had fun with friends and let loose. In fact, I did something really wild last night. It was the six of us that normally hang out together on weekends lately now - me and Ziggy, Coach and his wife and one other couple. We all piled into Coach's truck, all 6 of us with our daiquiris in hand and drove around with the windows down and the music blaring all singing at the top of our lungs like we were 16 and not 30-something and we went...are you ready?...we went...to Mr. Binky's!!
Oh my goodness, it was wild. For those non-locals, Mr. Binky's is an "adult superstore". Oh yes! A wonderland of fun, not only to purchase, but just to walk around and make general fun of all the weird shit...you know, handing coach the "Fatty Patty" doll because she is just his type of woman, or handing Ziggy a gallon sized vat of "butt butter" for him and his buddies - that type of juvenile fun.
Ziggy and I used to be so much wilder in our younger days. We had a "toy" or two along with a few books on sensual massage (highly recommended) and a few other adult type things, and we used to have great fun. All that ended over the past year as we settled into old married coupledom.
Well, each couple walked out with a bag o goodies and let me tell you, I had the most exciting night with Ziggy that we have had in well over a year. It was really good fun once we got past the initial embarrassment that a year of vanilla reproductive sex can bring.
Why am I sharing this? Well, I made a huge decision after last night. If I am NOT pregnant this month, then I have decided to take the rest of 2008 completely OFF from trying to create life. No watches, no peeing on sticks, no counting days, no pills/potions/herbs, no temping - nada/nothing/zip/zero. Instead, I'm going to try to find my "spark" again with Ziggy and just remember what it was like to have a kick ass time together. I want to use fun stuff again without worrying about the way cool fun tingly lube inhibiting his sperm's ability to swim. I just want to have fun with my husband again, dammit.
13 months ago people warned me that trying to conceive would take all of the joy out of my sex life and I didn't believe them. I thought we would be immune to those problems. I think it happened right from under us, without us even noticing until we got to this place where we are now and are trying to climb out from.
Anywho - kudos to Ziggy for being open minded enough to give it a whirl again (and yes! I'm totally PISSED he didn't come out of his fog last week...but oh well.) And I'm sure that in about 7-10 days, I will begin frantically peeing on HPT's regardless of my aloof attitude today about it. But like I said, one day of sex within 6 fertile days, and the semen I got was 5 day old semen - bah!, my chances are very slim.
But, I'm unusually ok about it. All of my freaking out and panic and general psychosis that was displayed earlier this week is now gone and I'm just...chill.
I wonder how that happened. I haven't even bought any tests yet - which is very unusual for me by this point, seeing that I am officially in the anxiety laden "dpo" days.
I even had a daiquiri last night...no, make that 2 daiquiris and I just had fun with friends and let loose. In fact, I did something really wild last night. It was the six of us that normally hang out together on weekends lately now - me and Ziggy, Coach and his wife and one other couple. We all piled into Coach's truck, all 6 of us with our daiquiris in hand and drove around with the windows down and the music blaring all singing at the top of our lungs like we were 16 and not 30-something and we went...are you ready?...we went...to Mr. Binky's!!
Oh my goodness, it was wild. For those non-locals, Mr. Binky's is an "adult superstore". Oh yes! A wonderland of fun, not only to purchase, but just to walk around and make general fun of all the weird shit...you know, handing coach the "Fatty Patty" doll because she is just his type of woman, or handing Ziggy a gallon sized vat of "butt butter" for him and his buddies - that type of juvenile fun.
Ziggy and I used to be so much wilder in our younger days. We had a "toy" or two along with a few books on sensual massage (highly recommended) and a few other adult type things, and we used to have great fun. All that ended over the past year as we settled into old married coupledom.
Well, each couple walked out with a bag o goodies and let me tell you, I had the most exciting night with Ziggy that we have had in well over a year. It was really good fun once we got past the initial embarrassment that a year of vanilla reproductive sex can bring.
Why am I sharing this? Well, I made a huge decision after last night. If I am NOT pregnant this month, then I have decided to take the rest of 2008 completely OFF from trying to create life. No watches, no peeing on sticks, no counting days, no pills/potions/herbs, no temping - nada/nothing/zip/zero. Instead, I'm going to try to find my "spark" again with Ziggy and just remember what it was like to have a kick ass time together. I want to use fun stuff again without worrying about the way cool fun tingly lube inhibiting his sperm's ability to swim. I just want to have fun with my husband again, dammit.
13 months ago people warned me that trying to conceive would take all of the joy out of my sex life and I didn't believe them. I thought we would be immune to those problems. I think it happened right from under us, without us even noticing until we got to this place where we are now and are trying to climb out from.
Anywho - kudos to Ziggy for being open minded enough to give it a whirl again (and yes! I'm totally PISSED he didn't come out of his fog last week...but oh well.) And I'm sure that in about 7-10 days, I will begin frantically peeing on HPT's regardless of my aloof attitude today about it. But like I said, one day of sex within 6 fertile days, and the semen I got was 5 day old semen - bah!, my chances are very slim.
Thursday, October 2, 2008
Second chances...
My OV Watch was either wrong or the stress over Ziggy's job postponed my O - I get a second chance!!! My OPK is positive NOW. Gotta go shave! Wish me luck!
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Word Quota
I swear that I am a flashing billboard for people who have not used up their word quotas for the day.
What do I mean? I attract EVERY chatty human on earth - not just chatty, but the types who sit and tell you their ENTIRE life stories and don't realize that your head is becomming dislocated from sitting there and nodding for so long to make it appear that you care - THOSE people.
It's like someone handed out word quotas and then pointed to me and said - there's your girl, go get her!
Tonight at football practice I actually sat and texted my husband FOUR times with the following text while a man told me ONE story that lasted the ENTIRE hour long practice (NOT AN EXAGERRATION). I texted, "please help me". And my husband would try (piss poor attempts though, if you ask me). He would walk over and try to get himself into the conversation to free me long enough to walk off or become engaged with the next talker waiting in line for my ear. Didn't work.
I think that most people I meet believe that I am mute because they talk so much that they never hear a word out of me.
There are very few exceptions to this rule. Lan will allow me to talk my own head off as will a select few others - very few others. But for the most part, from my mother in law to the pill poppin football moms - I am nothing more than a mirror for them to practice their life stories in front of.
What do I mean? I attract EVERY chatty human on earth - not just chatty, but the types who sit and tell you their ENTIRE life stories and don't realize that your head is becomming dislocated from sitting there and nodding for so long to make it appear that you care - THOSE people.
It's like someone handed out word quotas and then pointed to me and said - there's your girl, go get her!
Tonight at football practice I actually sat and texted my husband FOUR times with the following text while a man told me ONE story that lasted the ENTIRE hour long practice (NOT AN EXAGERRATION). I texted, "please help me". And my husband would try (piss poor attempts though, if you ask me). He would walk over and try to get himself into the conversation to free me long enough to walk off or become engaged with the next talker waiting in line for my ear. Didn't work.
I think that most people I meet believe that I am mute because they talk so much that they never hear a word out of me.
There are very few exceptions to this rule. Lan will allow me to talk my own head off as will a select few others - very few others. But for the most part, from my mother in law to the pill poppin football moms - I am nothing more than a mirror for them to practice their life stories in front of.
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