Useless Turd

Average day in the life of my boss - with absolutely not an ounce of exaggeration:

8:00 - 9:15am: Oh what? Work started? He wouldn't know, because he has yet to arrive.

9:15am - 10:15am: Check on fantasy football team, stare at monitor and click mouse many many times and look super busy. Get up and bother/chat with middle managers who are actually working.

10:15-11:45am: Find a group of guys to talk business with...ahem...plan lunch with and make fun of co-workers with.

11:45-1:15pm: Business lunch...ahem...go to Hooters and stare at boobies.

1:15-2:45pm: Important meeting, then chat with middle managers about how unfair it is that the VP's have such a cushy life, then disappear for about a half hour (we presume it's poop time).

2:45-3:30pm: Hurry up and approve bills! Send out several important emails and delegate the rest of the unfinished work to unsuspecting and very tired middle managers.

3:30-4:00pm: Take credit for middle managers hard work with President. Pat self on back gratuitously.

4:00pm: GOTTA GO!! Son's basketball game starts at 5:00 so he has to run out at warp speed without telling a soul, much less saying goodbye to the middle managers.

Must be nice.

Thanksgiving

Since I've been down in the dumps throwing myself a giant pity party for a while now, I figured I would force myself to find some joy and be thankful for everything that I DO have...and I have a lot.

Pretty much, if I went back and sat with 18 year old Sandy, I would tell her that there is only one thing missing from her life and her dreams...that second baby. But everything else, the house, husband, career...all of it is actually here and I live it every single day and still have pity parties.

So lovers, I'm like CDwhatever today and no period, no positive test. I've pouted and cried and wah wah'd all over the house and here I am to say this:

I've decided to bring sexy back!

What does this mean? Well, since the day I went off of birth control, I have gotten progressively further away from...sexy. Everything wonderful about me is now hidden under a fog of failure. I live every day either waiting to ovulate or waiting to get a period. I've succumbed to absolute laziness and sloth every day because I can justify it as...well, I can't bleach the ring around the tub in case I'm pregnant. Or I can't color my hair in case I'm pregnant. Every day i get further from the spunky gal with tons of energy that I once was.

ENOUGH.

Screw New Year's Eve. I'm ready for the resolution now. Tomorrow morning at 5:00am, my 174 pound blubber butt ass that used to be a hot mamma 145 WILL be walking 2 miles and I WILL be thinking positively and I WILL get my sexy back.

I'm tired of waking up hurting every morning physically and being depressed and sad to a point where though I hide it well, I'm not sure if a solid dose of lexapro could knock me out of the ditch I've dug myself into. That's no joke folks. Infertility is a bitch and that bitch can destroy you.

I WILL find joy where I used to find it 15 months ago and I WILL find new joys and damn it to hell, if I can't have another baby then at least I will be enjoying life and loving it again.

I told you so dance

I get to do the I Told You So dance...and I'm not thrilled about it.

You all know that my husband is a recovering opiate addict and has been clean for 3 years as of 12/11/08. If you didn't know then you know now.

He has an Addiction Specialist doctor that he sees and has seen for all 3 years. In the beginning, he saw him monthly. Then it became every 3 months and now it is every 6 months.

We just realized that he hadn't gone in almost 8 months (woops) so he called today to make an appointment for Monday. His "recovery plan" that he set forth himself says that he will see this doctor for the first 5 years at least - you know - just to make sure he's ok and not struggling or anything. It's a smart move and I'm proud of him.

So, he went to call the doctor today and was simply told, "he no longer practices here, but your records are with another doctor." Hmm. Interesting.

Interesting enough to google. I googled and HOLY SHIT! This is what I found:

http://www.wafb.com/Global/story.asp?S=8121679

Um, yeah, wow. Oh Shit. So the man that I entrusted my husband's sobriety to in those first few worrisome months was no less...a drug dealer? This article says very little, but if you keep searching his name you find out that the bastard pled guilty to all charges. His office and home were stocked with enough X, marijuana, opiates and cash to qualify him for "major drug dealer status". They found $200,000 in CASH in his house and he stored many of the illegal drugs in his office.

Wow. I can't get over it. I didn't like this man. I found him troubling to some inner sixth sense and I never liked him. Unfortunately, Addiction Specialists in a post Katrina New Orleans metro area are extremely difficult to come by. But I've told Ziggy for years now that I just don't like this man. We've actually had knock down drag out screaming matches about my distaste for this man. Ziggy would defend him and has LITERALLY used the word "savior" when describing him. Mamma was right.

Ziggy is really upset about it and feels almost betrayed and embarrassed. I don't fear my husband going back on opiates, but it's scary to know that the person who we were paying to get/keep him off the opiates is the very man that could have sold them to him in the first place. God.

Screw you, Dr. Auzine. You are a piece of shit to prey on the very same people that you claim to "save". Burn in hell, bastard.

Drama

The drama has excalated to a point where I swear that I'm ready to change my phone number and put my kid in a different playground for sports. But I won't over load you again with boring details of that.

I am CD 32 and not a cramp or a positive test in site. And now I begin to worry that this could very well be an anovulatory cycle that refuses to end until I infuse myself with fake progesterone and force the bitch down.

Bah Humbug.

On a side note, my son's field trip today to the African and Native American Cultural Show at City Park kicked ass! It was hot and tedious and tiring, but the actual show and lessons were so awesome.

It made me realize how much more tolerant and knowledgable of diversity our children are than we were. It makes me hopeful of a future generation that will be infused with tolerance and peace - way more than what we already have.

Anyway, pray that the drama ends as well as the cycle. I'd rather have my period and have the chance to start again than be in the limbo hell.

Is that a knife in my back?

My best friend, Lan decided to up and move to a place that rhymes with Shoulder Holorado. So it left me sad and in need of a new friend or two. I decided to take the easy route and aim for the playground moms.

I easily made friends with two moms. Jenna and Sue - (Sue is Coach's wife by the way). I started hanging out with them and chatting and eventually we swap emails and cell numbers and then our husbands become pals and play poker and talk guns like most redneck Louisiana men wind up doing and before you know it, we're all hanging out at each other's houses on weekends.

As previously stated, my husband doesn't drink at all and I drink very little out of respect for him. Our new couple/pals are HEAVY drinkers - they are the type who pour beer into travel coffee mugs and drink at every game/practice. Classy, huh?

Ziggy and I tend to be the only sober ones around. Ziggy actually tends to just hang out with the kids and will play ball with them for hours while their parents got sloppy drunk.

While this is not our normal sort of friends, they are very fun and we overlook such behavior and appreciate how easily they welcomed us into their group and honestly - they are a ball to be around.

Enter Halloween night. On Halloween night, I arrive to Jenna's house and everyone is already thoroughly trashed. I went to the party without my husband and was a little sad and didn't feel like being there anyway. Since I have had nothing but a Pepsi, I get to view the party and the adults through the eyes of the children present and I'm stunned at what I see. It was a moment of clarity. These children are witnessing things that I would NEVER allow my 8 year old to see. (Note: since Luke is with his dad most weekends during the school year, he is never with us when we hang out with them, so I don't often think about their behavior in that motherly way).

I took the children into the living room and watched TV with them. There was a grandmother of Jenna also in the room - a fellow undrunk person. The coach's two kids were there. One is 13 and the other is 8 and I noticed that Coach and Sue were missing from the party. I asked the boys where their parents were and what I got in return was SO totally unexpected. (turns out their VERY drunk parents had gone to visit another party around the corner and they came back later).

Both boys opened up and freely spoke about how drunk their parents get and how their dad was lying in the street last week and Sue was yelling at him in the street and how their mom starts drinking beer at breakfast and on and on and on. I'm shocked and had no clue what to say.

I talked straight to the 13 year old, since he was older and said, "Look I understand, because my parents drank too, I promise you that I know exactly how you're feeling. But I need you to know that it can and might get better, because my parents did. And even if they don't, you know that they work hard and love you and take care of you so just pray that it gets better and love them anyway."

It might not have been the perfect things to say, but I was backed into a corner and had to say something.

One week later, Jenna comes to me. At this point I'm beginning to notice her backstabbing drama magnet nature. I've also come to realize that she lies a bit and likes to flirt with EVERYONE'S husbands (including mine). At this point, I already started distancing myself from her, because it was almost like a slow motion movie where I could see that she was ready to create more drama. Basically, if her life is not in a total shambles, then she feels uncomfortable and creates the shambles. So I had already started hanging out a little less, and Ziggy and I were talking often about how uncomfortable we felt with their level of drinking, especially around the kids.

She told me that her grandmother, who was in the room with me, told her about what Coach's kids had said because she heard it too. All I told her was, "yeah, I know. I was there and I've been trying to decide if I should say anything to Sue about it, but I don't feel like it's my business." And Jenna told me, "no you shouldn't say anything, it will only hurt her."

So I didn't. Seeing that Jenna is way closer to Sue than I am, I took her advice. I decided that it wasn't my place to come between Sue and her kids and I'm not here on this earth to try to save every drunk that crosses paths with me. So I let it go.

I find out tonight from a totally random third party that Jenna told Sue everything and told Sue that I was the only one in the room and told Sue that I went and told everyone at the party about it. And now Sue hates me and Sue even went so far as to confront her two boys about it and supposedly she yelled at them about it and now her kids hate me too for betraying them.

I hate fucking drama. I hate it. I am the least confrontational person on earth and my husband and I both are just quiet homebodies who were looking for a few friends to hang out with and it's like - JESUS, LAN WHY DID YOU LEAVE ME?? (don't feel guilty, Lan, I know you made a good decision to leave). It's like I suddenly went from have a filet mignon friend to having bologna sandwich friends - know what I mean?

So here's my question. What should I do? Should I confront Jenna? Sue? Neither? Both? I don't know what to do. If I confront, would it do any good other than to exacerbate the situation? If I don't confront, then am I just a door mat?

So that ends my attempt to make friends via the playground. I'm am the least innocent person on earth, but in this one instance, I was totally sideswiped and have no idea how to handle it.

Obsession kicks in

My period is officially due tomorrow. To test or not to test. That is the question. I felt a smidge crampy when I woke up this morning. Crampy enough to pack the prepatory pad in my purse, but nothing since.

Hold my hand. I will try to hold out tomorrow, but if it doesn't come tomorrow then gawd help me - I'M TESTING!

She

This may be a long post, but I ask you to bear with me as I would absolutely love to hear your advice/wisdom/opinion on this topic via comment or email.

I’ve spent all morning trying to figure out how to put into words a night so absolutely horrific and so decadently delicious all at the same time that I’m left in full acknowledgement that I will be unable to verbalize the exact feelings. But I will try.

I dreamt of my daughter last night. My unborn daughter. In the past 15 months of trying to conceive, I have now dreamt of her 3 times. Each time, she looks the same and each dream is so deliciously realistic that I can see her exact face, smell her sweetness and feel her warmth. I hold her and I feed her and I fret over her. Last night, for the first time, she smiled at me – a full wholehearted baby giggle smile.

I know her name, even though her name is not one of the ones that Ziggy and I have chosen for a girl. Given the names of people in our family that we particularly dislike, it’s almost funny what her name is. And I cringe to think that this person may think that we named our child after her, but no matter what names Ziggy presents to me, I KNOW that this would be her perfect name and I play with it on my tongue often.

But I will hold that name secret in my mind just like I have to hold her sweet face, because she is not real and I may never share her with anyone, so why share her name?

All three times that I have dreamt of her, I have awoken feeling so perfectly motherly that I have risen and walked straight to the room that should be her nursery to check on her – only, she isn’t there and that is when I realize that the dream in which I have relished for god knows how many hours or minutes is truly a nightmare. This morning, I entered the “nursery” only to find my husband snoring away in our spare bed. At some point in the night, I must have kicked him out of our bed for snoring and this is where he winds up occasionally. And when I entered the room expecting to see her crib and only saw bare pink walls, I felt a sense of despair and desperation –where IS she?

Why pink walls? Our home’s previous owners had 3 daughters and there is quite a bit of pink all over our house that we haven’t painted over or removed.

I don’t pretend to know the meaning of dreams. I don’t know if they are prophetic or if they merely represent a picture view of your fears/hopes/desires. I don’t know if they foretell future events or if they are nothing more than a picture image of the last thing that you fell asleep thinking about. I do not know if they are gifts from God or tools of the Devil. What I do know is that this particular dream, just this one, has me baffled as to whether I should accept it as a lovely gift wrapped in finery or if I should shun it as a cruel reminder of what I am lacking and what I cannot create.

Now, I’ve heard all of the stories of women who awake from dreams of positive pregnancy tests and babies only to run into the bathroom and oh so finally get their beloved positive. Don’t you think I tried that? Don’t you think that I stood in front of the mirror, gently and oh so lovingly rubbing my belly that I just knew held my newly formed baby girl while I waited the 3 minutes for the test to process and yet, no matter how I turn the test and no matter what light I hold it under, there is still no second line and my baby girl has yet again decided to taunt me in dreams rather than show the rest of the world how beautiful she is.

And why a girl? That is the part that confuses me. If dreams merely represent your desires or hopes or thoughts, then why the pink little baby girl? Everyone on earth knows that I can’t stand the thought of having a girl and that all I’ve ever wanted is a house full of rough and tumble boys. Outside of my dreams, the thoughts of a daughter actually make me panic – so why the girl?

And so, I am CD29 and I am not pregnant. I am sorry for being weak and testing during my “off” cycles, but you tell me what you would have done. Would you have tested?