Saturday, December 12, 2009
Ever since we found out about you back in September, I'd had a feeling that you were a girl. I chalked my feeling up to women's intuition and felt validated by the scores of other people telling me they also thought you were a girl.
Well babe, I can tell you now that women's intuition = FAIL. You're a BOY!! And we are so, so excited. The ultrasound technician made the mistake of showing us your boy parts right away so we then had to wait for an hour before we could share our joy with our families. The whole time I was thinking, "Who cares about his KIDNEYS? I want to tell everyone about his PENIS!" However, I'm happy to report that your kidneys, along with everything else, also look great.
I'm sure you are relieved to learn that I will not be posting a picture of the "proof" that you're a boy on the interwebs. Oh no, I'm saving that picture to show at the rehearsal dinner the day before you get married. (Just kidding). (Maybe).
Even though I had mentally prepared myself for a girl, I get more excited every time I think about you being a boy. Little boys and their mommies have such special bonds and I can't wait to watch you grow up and see what you will become. You will have such wonderful influences around you that will teach you about how to be a good, smart, Godly man. Your daddy is itching to sing you songs about calculus, physics, and school you in Carolina basketball while your grandaddies are likely scheming to teach you the fight song for NC State, just to spite us. Your uncle Jordan has promised that you will know all about Western harmony. You'll learn loyalty and generosity and strength from all the men who you are lucky to have as family.
And as for me? I'm going to love you with all my heart, no matter what. Even if you do become a State fan.
Monday, December 7, 2009
(As an aside, Frosted Mini Wheats are one of the least offensive foods to puke up, semi-digested.)
(Also, I have a strange love of catchy ballads about psycho chicks killing innocent children. Don't judge.)
I don't particularly like Mondays either. When I was a kid I'd
But now, in my pregnant state, I don't have to pretend because my fetus is making me sick. My baby is already taking after me! Oh
Which leaves me wiping the puke off my face, trying to brush my teeth without setting off another episode, and trudging off to work with a look of martyrdom on my face. And making a mental note not to leave the room when I take my kid's temperature. Because I totally knew that trick about how to fake a fever.
Friday, November 20, 2009
It's been a while since I've written to you, but CHILD, you have scared your mama and daddy to pieces over the past month. It started with a little bit of spotting followed by that thing on the back of your neck. That 'thing' is gone now and you look amazing, and for this we are so, so grateful.
Cleitus, I'm going to tell you something that may make you think your mama is a little crazy. I believe God healed you over those few weeks. I don't have any proof other than two ultrasounds that look dramatically different from one another. And the doctors did say that sometimes nuchal translucencies resolve on their own. But baby doll, I don't think it was random. There were so many people praying for you. Your grandparents, great-grandparents, aunts, cousins, friends, and of course your daddy and I were praying for you constantly.
I also have to confess that at the beginning, I wasn't praying for a miraculous healing. I was praying for the translucency to mean something not-too-severe. I was praying for you to live. I was praying for strength for your daddy and I. But then, the day before we went in for the CVS test, it hit me. God is SO MUCH BIGGER than what I could imagine. God could make this whole problem go away! God could make it so that I wouldn't even need the test. A tiny part of my mind wanted to stop thinking these thoughts because I didn't want to be disappointed, but I held onto that hope and prayed fervantly for it that night. And my prayers were answered, so directly. The joy I feel is overwhelming and I can't help myself from telling everyone what happened.
And Cleitus, I'm writing this down because one day I want to tell you. I cannot wait to tell you how much Jesus loves you and how amazing He is. I canoot wait to tell you, a child of God, that He can do more than we ever ask or imagine. I cannot wait to read you Bible stories with miracles and to tell you about your own miracle. I just cannot wait.
Monday, November 16, 2009
The not-so-great news is that my free beta HCG levels are in the 0.5 percentile. Low. And apparently this result puts me at risk for pre-eclampsia, pre-term labor, miscarriage, placental 'issues', growth restrictions, and clinical insanity. I've already started developing the latter. Because, it seems that it is just one thing have another. After the bleeding episode, I walked around for several weeks terrified that I would miscarry at any moment. And just when I got more comfortable with this pregnancy and this baby we had that fateful ultrasound that cast us into fear and sadness for another few weeks. And NOW! After getting some AMAZING news I can't even relish it for 30 seconds without learning that DUDE, I am one high-risk mama.
I DO thank God that so far all indications point to a healthy Cleitus. But I wish that I could really love this pregnancy. That I could, upon telling a friend, not feel a stab of fear that I might have to untell. That I could buy maternity clothes without wondering if I'll need to shove them in the back of a closet to avoid seeing them. That I could be happy that I don't have a doctor's appointment for 3.5 weeks (the longest I've gone since my BFP!) instead of wishing I could go in to hear the heartbeat every week. And that on the mornings I wake up without feeling nauseous I could be happy instead of poking my boobs to make sure I still have some pregnancy symptoms.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
After a few minutes of squinting at the picture I asked the technician, "so, um, where is the nuchal translucency?" She replied something vague about needing the baby to move and then after a few moments went to get the doctor. I laid there, silent. Trying not to say anything that might get my mama excited. Trying not to let myself get excited. The doctor came in the room. Eleven days ago the nuchal translucency was 4.2 mm. "Normal" is under 2 mm. Now, it was 0.8 mm.
THAT'S LESS THAN A MILLIMETER INTERNET!
As she talked about my options I half-listened and half-restrained myself from jumping off the table, screaming, crying, or grabbing the ultrasound wand as a fake microphone and singing some ecstatic song. I knew my options. I knew what I would do. I had gone over this scenario a million times in my head. I had hoped and prayed for this scenario. And now, it was here.
I declined the CVS. I let them go ahead and do a proper NT Scan. All the other measurements look perfectly normal. Cleitus has a prominent nasal bone and is measuring right on time. We'll hear about the blood results in a week or two.
The doctor and genetic counselor were careful to say that we're not out of the woods yet. That there WAS something there and it COULD mean something. But me? I'm not letting reality step in the way of my joy. I believe in miracles. And I believe that I've got a healthy baby in there.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
We are scared, but coping. We have friends, family, and creepy Internet strangers (mwah!) praying for us and I have never in my life felt God's presence as closely as I have over the past few days. It became clear to me when I walked into church Sunday and saw that the sermon's title was "Anxiety over Loss". The pastor talked about Psalm 23, a passage I've memorized, but never internalized. I've started reading through the Psalms and have begun to identify with David's fear, but also his faith that he served a God who saves.
I feel hopeful. Hopeful that our baby WILL live, hopeful that the nuchal fold is signalling that Cleitus has an issue that is not serious or easily treatable, and better yet, hopeful that nothing at all is wrong.
And when I DO get down and start thinking about the scariest scenarios? The scenarios that end with me delivering a baby that does not survive? I feel peace. Sadness, yes, but also peace. And still more hope, for the future. Hopeful that our lives and our baby's life will serve to glorify the God that created us, no matter how short those lives may be. Hopeful for our family's happiness.
I am being blessed with a hope that is kicking despair's butt.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
I'm trying to find a balance. I'm trying to quash my questions and fears until we know more. My inner Girl Scout is screaming, "but what about THIS? I need to BE PREPARED!" And the doctor told us we should be prepared, but "don't get too depressed yet". How can I prepare myself for terrible news about my baby without getting depressed?
I have no idea.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
I'm not sure how to breathe, how to move, how to speak.
Friday, October 23, 2009
We told your Great-Granny Collum about you last night. It was her birthday and we wanted to surprise her with some good news. When I said the words, she screamed and laughed. She was so happy, just like your Granny was when we told her several weeks ago. I know that as we begin to tell other people about you over the next few week, we will hear many similar reactions, especially from the Collum side of the family.
And while some people might look at that kind of excitement and yelling as a little bit crazy, I know that it means that you, Cleitus, are a very lucky little baby. You are SO LOVED. Already. Before anyone knows anything about you other than your penchant for changing your mind about craving mac and cheese after your daddy bought four boxes of it. It doesn't matter if you wear pink or blue, inherit your daddy's curly or your mama's straight hair, have a Type A or Type B personality, or prefer science or literature. You are loved and you are being born into a family full of love. You may not realize it, but that feeling you'll get when you walk (or are carried, because I guarantee that your relatives will rush to the car to get you) into your Great-Granny's house is Love. It's a love that gives, forgives, inspires, and comforts. And I cannot wait for you to experience it.
Monday, October 12, 2009
I've come to the conclusion that something in my subconscious is telling me that these dreams are BAD and making me suffer for them. God may kill a kitten every time YOU touch yourself, but I'm afflicted with paralyzing pain every time I think about touching someone else. Including my husband. Which is totally not fair because I can't actually DO any touching do to doctor-mandated pelvic rest.
(Actually, I could do the touching but I'm lazy if I don't get anything for my effort).
I'm blaming my stiff fundamentalist Norwegian relatives for this one.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
We saw our little gummy bear, but the technician kept having me hold my breath for extended periods of time to see if she could ascertain the heart rate. Her "unofficial" report was that she couldn't find it but she did think she saw a flickering. After more waiting the doctor came up and basically said I was most likely going to miscarry because the baby was measuring about a week behind my EDD based on my last period. He ignored my comments about having ovulated about a week "late" and said I just had to go home and wait.
Monday morning we called my practice. They gave us another ultrasound and the technician said she "definitely" saw Cleitus' heart beating! I was so relieved! And she saw something else too. Either a bleed or a second gestational sac.
So maybe I have some bleeding issues, maybe I have a baby and a blighted ovum, or maybe I have twins.
Another ultrasound in six days.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Cleitus you say? Yep! Your daddy and I have chosen Cleitus as your official name until we are able to see your genitals and decide on a more appropriate name. I don't want to hear any complaints from you Cleitus, because, quite frankly, you've been making your poor mama miserable. And I confess that it is hard for me to associate the constant urge to vomit, exhaustion, unquenchable thirst, and cramps that wake me up in the middle of the night with you, my dear little baby. I feel guilty and sad that I am not SO EXCITED to experience these things. I worry that I'm a wimp or too selfish to see the good in my discomfort.
But despite feeling so discouraged and overwhelmed by the prospect of being in the first trimester for TWO MORE MONTHS, I do know that it WILL get better. For a while, anyway. And then there will be other ailments and pains that may very well pull your hormone-crazy mama into yet another funk. But Cleitus, I just keep telling myself that it will be completely worth it. On the day they place you on my belly and I hear your cries and see your beautiful face all of these annoyances will be far from my mind.
Love always, Mama
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
(Note: Since we are both swing dancers asking me to dance wasn't that strange of a request)
So we dance. And dance. And dance. Because the song is eight minutes long. Which is pretty long to be swaying with someone in your dark living room, alone, without speaking. And the whole time the heart palpitations and digestive issues the cat sitter gives me are going crazy and I'm wondering if he's gonna make it worth my while. (Ya know, wink wink). And, well, he did.
And that, Internet, was the beginning of a beautiful
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Seeing how the cat sitter was a vegetarian (at the time), I had to do extensive research on some tasty vegetarian meals. The cat sitter, being a Southern
MUSICAL INTERLUDE: "Sometimes when someone has a crush on you, they make you a mixed tape, to give you a clue."
Internet, even though I had not yet seen Avenue Q, I knew the words of this song to be the truth. And I began to be convinced that the physiological symptoms that hounded me when the cat sitter was around were evidence of an emotional THING I had for the cat sitter. I confess that this thought, the thought of a THING had crossed my mind previously. But now I was sure.
Dinner went well. We moved to the living room to watch a movie, during which we intermittently stared at each other, then back to the dining room for dessert. At this point it was at least midnight. And you know what midnight means, right?
It means it's no longer exactly three years ago. So I can stop here, for now, in the name of
Monday, September 21, 2009
Until now. While the great boob-splosion of 2009 has not yet occurred, my lovely ladies have been feeling a bit under the weather. And recently it has come to my attention that the
(As a side note, why isn't there a one-word term for going without a bra like there is for going without panties? Another case of discrimination against women?)
The pain occurs regardless of whether I'm moving or not. And this pain, it is a stretching kind of pain. Like someone is pulling my twins in all sorts of directions they were not meant to go. So now I face the dilemma of either wearing a bra 24/7 or worrying about ending up like one of those women you see in National Geographic whose ta-tas are down to their waists.
So dear titties, I deeply apologize for constantly keeping you locked up in your prison cells. It's for your benefit. Consider it a training session for the agony that is your destiny. You'll forget this temporary discomfort in nine months when a little creature wants to suck on you every few hours.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Me: So, I'm pregnant.
Dad: (long pause)
Maybe my mama needs to lend him this book.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
I always wondered how I would react the moment I found out that your daddy and I had succeeded in creating you. As I have a slight flair for the dramatic I envisioned jumping up and down, screaming, and all sorts of other emotional displays. But instead I walked into the kitchen, hands trembling, and said quietly to your dad, "I think there are two lines." And there were! Even without needing to squint or tilt the test sideways as I had done in previous months that we were hoping for a miracle, we could see very clearly the evidence of your presence.
Right now you are probably making yourself at home. You may be exhausted after that long trip through my fallopian tubes and desire a place of your own. Well, go right ahead. Mi uterus, su casa little baby. Unpack your boxes, hang some pictures, and get comfy. Make sure to clear the clutter because even though you are only the size of a poppy seed right now, you're going to be closer to the size of a basketball before long. Mommy will make sure you get lots of yummy nutritious food to help you grow that much. If you want something specific, just let me know and I'll have daddy go out and get it for us. (I am really looking forward to this part of being your host!)
Baby, if you ever hear me complaining about feeling sick because you're there, don't worry. Secretly I'll be pleased that I have symptoms that remind me of you. And I promise you, I am so happy to endure whatever may come just for the privilege of having you here.
Monday, September 14, 2009
Friday, September 11, 2009
We are all Americans. Just like we were all Berliners when that city needed the world the most.
On the 13th a few of us decided to go down to the Champs Elysees where there was a memorial in front of the American Embassy. As we approached the line I noticed an old French man in his World War II hat, sitting on a park bench, weeping. In front of the embassy were hundreds of letters, flowers, and "I Love NY" t-shirts. To many, precious souvenirs of a rare trip across the Atlantic. And then I felt a tap on my shoulder. A little lady, probably around 75 years old, began to speak to me in hesitant English. "America saved us. We.....comment dire 'devoir'?" Devoir, when conjugated, means must. As a noun it implies duty. I assured her I could understand French and she began to tell me how she was young during WWII, how America had defended Western Europe from tyranny. And how she hoped and prayed her country would be able to pay back some of that debt now.
I had never in my life realized that anyone viewed America in this way. Americans in France were fat, obnoxious, and had a strange belief that yelling in English would help the French understand them better. We were a pompous people who insisted the world do it our way. And yet, there was still a memory that we did some good. That our country had sacrificed to help rid the world of the evil of the Third Reich. And though, even then it seemed inevitable that things would change and politicians would disagree and that citizens would protest, for that moment the world remembered.
For the first time I felt overwhelmingly proud to be an American.
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
(Dedicated to the lovely fisherwomen of BOTB)
Heartburn, it haunted me
The nausea came
My boobies are so sore
Hormones I blame
All of these symptoms
The Phantom of the Uterus is there...
Inside your mind
My temperature today
Was very low
An implantation dip?
Or will I start my flow?
The Phantom of the Uterus is there...
Inside your mind
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Yes, I said swing dance camp. Go ahead and ridicule me, but it was awesome. Fucking awesome, even (cough cough, Jay Ferris). One of my friends from swing dancing down here in the Midatlantic had volunteered to check in on my cat Alyosha to make sure all his basic needs were being met. I checked my voicemail one afternoon and it was my cat sitter, informing me that Aly had defecated on the rug. I, to be honest, was not surprised, seeing how Aly uses pooping on carpet as his way of showing displeasure with his circumstances. To ensure that my cat sitter didn't back out before I left for my vacation, I had omitted this detail about my devil cat's behavior. The cat sitter wanted to know if he should be concerned and requested that I return his call. But before I did, I was struck with a gut-wrenching feeling.
I had been getting that feeling more and more often, especially when I was around my cat sitter, or even when I thought about him. It felt oddly like those butterflies you get when you have a crush. But no, surely not! I DEFINITELY DID NOT LIKE THE CAT SITTER (like that). I couldn't! He was old! And a dancer! (I never liked dancers!) And he was a vegetarian! And didn't go to church anymore! No, no, maybe I just needed to poop, that would take care of the gut-wrenching feeling.
I decided to call the cat sitter back when I knew he would be out and away from his phone so I could leave a quick message telling him Aly was being his usual self and not get tied up in a conversation.
Ya know, so I could get to the bathroom on time since I obviously was going to need to poop .
Friday, August 28, 2009
Today is my birthday! I'm sure there will be multiple days that I forget how old I am now and tell the treadmill that I am still 28, but when my knees hurt the morning after a run I will remember that I am, in fact, an old fart. Victor invited some friends over for the night for a "wine and (ice cream) cuppycake" party and tomorrow night we're planning to go to a nice dinner together. That is, if he remembered to get reservations (ahem).
Twenty-Nine things I Learned in my Twenty-Ninth Year
1). Marriage is hard work. Those butterflies in your stomach subside after a while and some days it's a lot harder to love your spouse like you should.
2). That hard work is so worth it. Because nothing beats the comfort that comes with complete trust.
3). It's crucial to have separate time and interests from your spouse.
4). I don't hate the environment. I never ACTUALLY hated the environment but I didn't see any reason to go out of my way to help it. But this year something clicked. I'm carrying reusable bags and researching cloth diapers. As a result, my uber-conservative family thinks I'm one step away from moving to California and throwing away all my hair removal products.
5). I can vote democratic without being sent straight to hell. Or California (though it was a close call).
6). I want a baby, bad. Obviously.
7). Having a baby is not easy. It's not nearly as easy as they tell you in high school health class.
8). Making a baby sometimes isn't even fun. It's full of dashed hopes, compulsion, and anxiety.
9). I need to write. Having been so entrenched in science I had forgotten how good it feels to have the words just...flow (words other than "the results clearly indicate"). There are still more hiccups in my writing than I'd like, but it is starting to feel better.
10). I really like a clean house.
11). I get a lot of satisfaction from doing 'traditional' things for my husband. No, not THOSE things! (I still don't like that, sorry hon.) (Besides, that's not how we get number 4 accomplished.) Things like making him a good meal and ironing his shirts.
12). I am good at my job. As a general policy, I don't talk about work on here. But things were not so great and now they are. I truly love my job.
13). Even in my upper twenties, pink is still my favorite color.
14). Giving is fulfilling. I've always loved to give presents to friends and family, but now that we are in a position to make substantial financial donations to church and other causes, I really like it. This summer we paid half the tuition for my cousin to attend a class on human trafficking. She is 19 and passionate about working on this issue and I am so so happy that I could help.
15). I am the budget nazi. I love a budget. This probably won't surprise you if you read this post. I am truly in love with my budget spreadsheet.
16). It's really hard for me to maintain a weight. This year I've fluctuated up and down ten pounds multiple times. I need to work on finding a sustainable weight and way of eating.
17). Drinking myself silly is so not worth it. Someone please remind me of this fact tonight.
18). Maintaining long-distance friendships is even harder when you're married.
19). In fact, maintaining local friendships is harder when you're married. Especially if you're
20). I should never have committed to making lists of twenty-nine things. That's a lot of things!
21). I regret a lot of things my mama predicted I'd regret like not keeping a journal consistently and quitting piano lessons.
22). I am becoming more like my mama every day.
23). Despite having lots of newer friends, I still cherish the old ones deeply.
24). I really appreciate my southern roots.
25). I have a strong longing to write about my past but getting started is hard.
26). I want to learn more about my family.
27). I might have a problem with anxiety.
28). It's okay that my idea of a perfect afternoon is reading and napping on the couch while listening to the rain outside.
29). Victor really values our coats, remember?
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Twenty-Nine Things that are Always a Good Present for Loretta
1). Tea roses.
2). Anything made by C.O. Bigelow.
3). A soy chai latte from The Daily Grind. It makes me go "CariWHO Coffee?"
4). Flip-flops from J-Crew.
5). Season(s) of Sex and the City aka the BEST TV SHOW EVER MADE.
6). Expensive, pretty workout clothes.
7). A personal chauffeur so I don't have to drive myself to and from work.
8). Origins "A Perfect World" moisturizer.
9). Cuppycakes. Preferably those with ice cream in them.
10). A bottle of Pinot Grigio.
11). One of those alarm clocks that is attached to a lamp that wakes you up by gradually illuminating.
12). iTunes gift card.
13). Chanel No. 5 products.
14). Nice "lounge" clothes.
15). Matching bra and underwear sets.
16). Paraphernalia from my alma maters.
17). A burger from Arties with cheese and mustard (conveniently located at the junction of MD-108 and 32).
18). Gift cards to Barnes and Noble.
19). Thin Mints or Samoas.
20). Clinique lip gloss. I'm a summer, mmmkay?
21). Elsa Peretti earrings from Tiffanys to match my bracelet.
22). Monogrammed recipe cards.
23). Low-fat Greek yogurt. I can never justify the cost.
24). Barbecue shipped directly from Eastern NC.
25). A poster of Frankie Manning dancing from Life magazine.
26). A pretty travel coffee mug with a handle.
27). Gloves made for fat fingers.
28). Subscription to Shape or Fitness magazine. I be needing it these days.
29). A personal assistant.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Twenty-Nine Ways to Aggravate Me
1). Poke my upper arm.
2). Use your outside voice, inside.
3). Drive under the speed limit.
4). Talk on your cell phone while driving.
5). Forget everything I tell you within five minutes and ask me to repeat what I said.
6). Walk very slowly.
7). Walk very quickly, my legs are short.
8). While drunk, hug me and pretend that you love me even though you never talk to me when you're sober.
9). Have bad breath.
11). Wear too much perfume.
12). Hum incessantly.
13). Allow your child to press every button in the elevator.
14). Scream mean things at your child, especially in a public place.
15). Constantly correct your child.
16). Talk about how hard it is to lose weight despite eating junk food and drinking frappaccinos every day.
17). Take the elevator to the second floor (unless you are injured).
18). Do something the slow way when a faster way has been pointed out to you. (Note: this does not apply during sex).
19). Call a meeting when the issue in question could be resolved in an impromptu 5 minute discussion or over email.
20). Ask me to do something, then email me three minutes later repeating the same exact request despite my already having agreed to do it.
21). Put anything you have said in the past in quotation marks and attribute the quotation to yourself.
22). Make me clap every time someone says anything in a meeting.
23). Splash water all over a public bathroom counter.
24). Ask me to hold a pine cone and then draw a picture or write a poem about how said pine cone brings me closer to God.
25). Make lame excuses for not doing something you should have done.
26). Blame anything you do on your parents or the devil.
27). Argue for 10 minutes with the grocery check-out girl over a $0.50 price difference on one item.
28). Honk at me when I'm walking in a crosswalk.
29). Appear on an episode of "I Didn't Know I was Pregnant"
Monday, August 24, 2009
Today I'm going to open up and be vulnerable. I'm going to really let you in to my personal feelings. Today I've got 29 Songs I'm Embarrassed are on My iPod:
1. Achy Breaky Heart (Billy Ray Cyrus)
2. Baby Baby (Amy Grant)
3. Barbie Girl (Aqua) (On a side note, I once took a "What is Your Stripper Song" and this was the result. I have never stripped to this song. Or any other song.)
4. Brown-Eyed Handsome Man (Chuck Berry)
5. Can't Touch This (MC Hammer) This song is more embarrassing once you know it's on my "pump up workout" song list.
6. Chubby Clementine (Bobby Darin)
7. Da Doo Run Run (Crystals)
8. End of the Road (Boyz II Men)
9. French Poodle (Sam Butera) I highly recommend that you do not look up the meaning of "french poodle" on urbandictionary.com. Really.
10. Friends are Friends Forever (Micheal W. Smith)
11. My Prerogative (Bobby Brown)
12. God Bless America (LeeAnn Rimes) From her "You Light up my Life: Inspirational Songs" album.
13. Hats off to Larry (del Shannon)
14. Heal the World (Michael Jackson) This one is slightly less embarrassing now that the artist is deceased. A little.
15. Hey Girl, Hey Boy (Big Sandy)
16. Hopelessly Devoted to You. The sing-along version. Like mother like daughter.
17. How am I Supposed to Live Without You? (Micheal Bolton)
18. I'd Like to Teach the World To Sing (Lea Salonga)
19. I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas (Gayla Peevey, whoever that is)
20. I Want it That Way (Backstreet Boys)
21. Le Freak (Chic)
22. Let's Get Ready to Rumble (ESPN JockJams). See number 5.
23. Little Queenie (Chuck Berry, again)
24. Lollipop (Ben Kweller)
25. Love me for a Reason (The Osmonds)
26. A Moment Like This (Kelly Clarkson, from when she won American Idol)
27. Mr. Heat Miser (Big Bad Voodoo Daddy)
28. Listen (Beyonce, from Dream Girls)
29. Greatest Love of All (Whitney Houston)
Monday, August 17, 2009
I would first decide on the courses I wanted or needed to take and write them into an hour-by-hour grid that I made up on my computer. This grid usually went from about 7 am until 10 pm. Then I'd add all my extra activities to the list: field hockey, eating house officers meeting, etc etc. And then? The
Now that I am in a stage of life where I have NO IDEA even where I might be living (and in what kind of house/apartment? and on how much of a salary? and what kind of hours will Victor have?) in as little as a month from now? It's MADDENING! Any day now Victor could get called for an interview and any number of days after that he could get a job offer and then...CHAOS! My mortal enemy could come knocking on the door with little or no warning.
The fact that I can't plan out one specific route means I spend a good portion of my mental energy planning out lots of less-specific routes. I plan out when we could move, what kind of house we could buy or whether we'd rent for a while first for pretty much every decent-sounding job opportunity Victor mentions to me. I spend hours perusing payscale.com to estimate what Victor's salary might be in any particular job. Then I spend more hours drooling at houses on realtor. com based on said salary range. Sometimes I even write out a mock budget to reassure myself that it could work. Whenever a job opportunity falls through I feel like I'm losing something. I had made PLANS! What about that cute little townhouse within walking distance to Victor's prospective office? Lost, forever! While my melodrama may cause you to roll your eyes it causes me a great deal of emotional distress. Nothing is quite so bad as plans not working.
I'm feeling this pain even more so as we try to conceive. Every month I think about if it does work, when we'll tell family, when we'll find out the sex, and how fantastic it would be to have a
Friday, August 14, 2009
-My workload in general
-Reading a note that one of my oldest friends was in labor
-Hearing that said friend had a beautiful baby boy
-A really slow truck on a two-lane highway with no passing
-The birth of every baby on the SIX baby reality shows I watched during my sick/mental health day
-When the kids on 16 and Pregnant gave their baby to an adoptive couple
-When I couldn't grate an apple without it becoming a mess
-When cycle #3 of trying to conceive ended, this morning
Thursday, August 6, 2009
And then I had a flashback to my childhood. I was probably 4 or 5, still young enough to let my mama in the bathroom with me. I was on the toilet and every few seconds she would say "stop!" or "start!", sort of like my high school basketball coach would while we did push-ups when she was pissed at us. Which was a lot. But anyway, my mama was not referring to me doing calisthenics (because that would be wrong) (although, not nearly as wrong as the truth), she was telling me to stop and start my urine stream.
Internet, my mama was teaching me KEGALS! When I was in preschool! If memory serves correctly she told me practicing this exercise regularly was very important for women. Let the males say "amen!"
Now, my mama is very naive and there is a possibility that she was only encouraging me to develop fine bladder control without even considering the other uses of these exercises. But if not? I can only imagine her thinking that if I followed her advice I'd have a very happy husband. I'm not sure that is what was meant by the whole "women teach your daughters" thing.
Monday, August 3, 2009
Friday, July 31, 2009
Victor: What's wrong? I'm going to sleep.
Me: We talked about this already...it's Wednesday.
Victor: Wednesday?? Oh, is this about those strips of paper in the bathroom?
(he was referring to ovulation prediction tests)
Me: :sigh: Yes.
Victor: Oh. Sorry, I forgot.
Victor: Well...do you want to do it?
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Friday, July 24, 2009
Friday, July 17, 2009
Monday, July 13, 2009
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Saturday, July 4, 2009
Pre-seed is pitched as a lubricant for couples trying to conceive. Most products are known to be hostile to sperm. As seeing a dark test line on an ovulation predictor kit isn't enough to get most women in the mood, it's good to have some help that won't defeat the purpose of the rendez-vous. Pre-seed is not and actually mimics the kind of fluid that your body should be producing naturally
This stuff comes with an applicator and instructions to fill said applicator to the 3 (unit of measurement unknown). It looked like an awful lot to me so I only used half of what was recommended. And unless thirty minutes of frantic slip-and-sliding followed by much oozing and complete exhaustion is what tickles your fancy I would not recommend even half of the prescribed dosage.
So much for our clean sheets.
Round two I only applied to the 0.5 line, one third of my original try. With this amount there was not as much slip-and-sliding or oozing, but the completion was still more labor-intensive than when performed au natural.
The final round of pre-ovulation nookie I decided to skip the applicator altogether and just use a pea-sized amount with my finger. Much better, both Victor and I agreed. (wink wink).
My final decision on product endorsement will come in approximately 9 days. At which point I'll either pack our wine stock away or break into it and drink away my cramps.
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Friday, June 26, 2009
Monday, June 22, 2009
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Monday, June 15, 2009
Friday, June 12, 2009
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Monday, May 25, 2009
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Monday, May 18, 2009
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
It's of my Dad's mom, Alice Mae (little girl on the left) and her siblings. Alice died when my Dad was about 10 years old. She had rheumatic fever as a child and it left her with a heart defect. She died in her sleep and the morning my Grandpa discovered her he still got his three sons dressed and sent them to school.
I only learned these things several months ago.
See, we never talk about Alice. My Grandpa remarried when my Dad was still a kid. I'm not sure if we don't talk about Alice because it upsets my Grandma or because it's too painful. But recently, I've started really wanting to know.
In this picture of Alice I see my nose. And I want to know, what else did she give me?
I can see other parts of myself in other family members. My cautiousness from my mom's mom, my curiosity and love of reading from my mom, my rational thinking and quick temper from my dad.
What did Alice give me? Maybe my overdeveloped sense of justice? Or my laugh? Or my ghetto booty?
And even beyond what I got from my family, what I hope to become. My parents' forgiveness, my Granddaddy's hospitality and congeniality, my Granny's generosity, and my Grandpa's quiet kindness inspire me to become a better person. What would Alice have shown me?
I want to know. I want to know what kind of antics she pulled as a child. I want to know how she fell in love with my Grandpa and what it was like to have three sons in a cold, small North Dakota town. I want to know if her death was a surprise or expected. I want to know how my Grandpa managed to take care of his sons while mourning his wife. I want to know how my dad felt about his stepmother from the beginning and how they became a family.
It's my story too. And I want to know.