I think I have enough time... (kids mentioned)

This is probably my last chance to blog before we leave for Louisianna for the holidays, so here I go. Very quickly, though, because R is in the ceiling right now.

The ornaments were a hit at school. The kids had so much fun. I think "THE" popular girl in the class has a little crush on Little H. And I mean "THE" girl- blonde hair, blue eyes, competes in figure skating, great reader (hey, it's 1st grade, that is a big deal), the works. She blinks her long, perfectly curved lashes just a little bit more when he's around. And she kept talking to him and me, but not clingy like a couple of the girls. Of course, she'll turn into a bitch around middle school and barely look at him because her parents have money and his mom doesn't, but for now I think she likes him.

The puppies are growing so fast. The camera's still out in the car, but I got some great pics so I will try very hard to post again before we leave. They're almost standing on their feet now instead of scooting across the floor. And they go potty on their own (quite gross, actually, but a stage in growing up so it's like an accomplishment), they lick Mama's food sometimes (they love the yogurt that my mom mixes in to help Mama Dog get more calcium and have less gas), and you can see little nubbies in their mouths where teeth will soon come in.

Sorry I don't have time for more, R has now found the leak (he got dripped on last night, out of nowhere). The next couple days will be spent trying to figure out what to do there until Spring (when we will likely have to re-roof the house). Any free time will be spent cleaning, packing, cleaning, packing, and going over my list repeatedly to make sure nothing was forgotten. Would you all mind emailing me every once in a while reminding me to eat? That's not written on my schedule so I'll probably forget. Thanks!

If I don't get a chance before then: Merry Christmas (and Joyful Celebration of whatever holiday(s) you choose to recognize, I only specified Christmas because that is my belief/holiday of choice, I am open and loving of all holidays and times of togetherness and cheer)! And Happy New Year (I should be home by then, but just in case)!

Oh, and a tiny tidbit of ponderful information- I took a "what's the best religion for you" test thing, and it said that I'm 94% in agreement with the Jewish faith. I'm not immensely dedicated to Christianity, there is much I disagree with (I'm pro-choice and I love gay people, just to name a couple arguements). Maybe I should research this some more. I could so light candles and rid my house of flour products once a year, and all that other stuff Mel does. And love every part of my chosen faith, not just "some of the big stuff." I'm not even that dedicated to Christmas, except for the emphasis on family and togetherness, and Judaism has days emphasizing family and togetherness, so I think I could convert well. Yeah, very much wanting to research more. I'll keep you all updated. (R doesn't dig the conversion idea, that may put a damper in my plans. But at least I'll know that my beliefs do fit somewhere, I'm not the worst Christian ever, I just think like a Jew... can I joke like that? is it offensive? because I see it as Jews being way more accepting and Christians being way too judgemental, so thinking like a Jew is a good thing in my experience. I'll shut up now.)

Festively... decorative

Half the ornaments are done (the round ones, they're so much easier). The other half are hopefully getting cut by the awesome machine at the copy shop tomorrow afternoon. Which means tomorrow evening and all day Tuesday are scheduled for folding and gluing (every second, because it took 2 full days to fold and glue the easy ones).

And now, the pics. Hello? Crafty McCrafty? You here to see them? You requested. And I'm doing pretty good at that pictures in every post thing so far... I'll be lazy later, right now I want to show off.

Please ignore the extensive dirtiness of my floor, the grout never got sealed (that is the least of my complaints about the shitty contractor the guy we bought the house from hired) and one little grain of sand can make the whole floor look black. Instead, focus on the gigantic pile of ornaments that R and I made. And the measly 4 pointy ones, which means we have 56 left to do.

Festively Barely Dressed

Last night was it, T-day, the time to finally get a picture of my tattoo (stage 3 of ?). Took a shower, shaved my legs carefully, applied lotion (and leg make-up to hide the fact that my tan is beyond faded away and there are stretch marks on my butt- way to be a late bloomer, Roy). Cute little skirt, lacy boy-short panties because I had to lift my skirt a little to expose all of it, sexy black heels. It's a picture of my leg, no need to put on a shirt, right?

R took a little creative license with the photography. Cut out the shoe once, trying to get a good angle and catch me not covering my boob. Hello, the shoes are important, I love those shoes! Anyway, I guess I should post the evidence now. And a reminder from when I first got it done- NEVER TATTOO YOUR ASS! I'm hoping for stage 4 next Wednesday, although I'm not looking forward to it because I'm really not excited for the pain. What we do for beauty (or what we consider beauty, because I'm sure there are some out there that don't think my tattoo is anywhere near beautiful, but I'm in love with it)...

Volunteering to be crafty- why it's the stupidest idea ever! (kids mentioned)

Little H is adorable. He's in first grade. By default of age and size, pretty much his entire class is adorable. As well as the other first grade class in his school, located in the classroom across the hall. The things they do are adorable. The things they say are adorable. The cheap crap they make at school is adorable. And now, storytime:

So...... one day a gorgeous, intelligent, lovable stepmother was making paper Christmas ornaments. Her mom and aunt had gotten a book of them at some craft store for her birthday in August, knowing that she would love it (and that it would take her those entire 4 months in between to actually get them done, because her craftiness comes in very short spurts). Her adorable stepson wanted to help. That's a big N-O. After spending hours cutting them out, gluing them together, and adding glitter paint and beads and pieces of random jewelry that nobody wears anymore, there was no way she was going to let little 6 year old hands screw it up.

Instead, the fabulous, genius that she was offered to come into his classroom for an entire day and decorate some (made of construction paper) with all of his classmates. The stepson with the pinchable cheeks consented to that idea. The caring, stunning, amazing stepmother made the same proposition to the teacher. The teacher beamed with delight.

Two weeks later, the alluring, radiant, astute stepmother and the teacher met to look at the template, decide how many, and set a date. The teacher asked if both classrooms could do it. The giving, naive stepmother happily agreed (the teacher had made it a point to rave about the gullible stepmother to the other first grade teacher right in front of her, so the moronic stepmother was in an all-to-ambitious mood).

Now the doltish, witless stepmother is attempting this impossible feat. She has managed to print the template onto the construction paper, but the remainder of the project seems insurmountable. Cutting out 6 designs per ornament, folding them, gluing them, starting all over again for the next one. 120 ornaments, that's 720 pieces. Sure, half of them are circles (which are easier to cut, but harder to fold), but the other half resemble squares with spades attached to each side. A mere 40 pieces have been cut, which has rendered the scissors dull and the haggard stepmother's hands cramped.

Only one week left to finish them all. They go to the teacher on Thursday to be punched and string added to hang them with. The stepmother is driving downstate on Wednesday to do some necessary picture-taking for the tattoo-shop website (and some sitting around, because the crew there is awesome and fun). So, really only 5 days to complete the project. The stepmother has begun wondering if there is anything short of the flu that will get her out of this. But she knows that even if she was near-death with the flu she would feel guilty about messing up the teacher's craft time plans and never forgive herself for it (this stepmother is very good at causing/pointing out guilt, so much so that she overwhelms herself in her own). So, the cramped hands take a short break and then return to their arduous task.

Those adorable children better be excited, lest the fatigued stepmother have a mental break down and be unable to maintain her cheerful facade in their presence.

Seriously, I'll fucking scream and rip the ornaments to shreds if those little brats don't enjoy my hard work. Those were my favorite scissors, damn it, and now they don't cut anything. Off to buy at least 2 more pairs of scissors, hopefully they will make it through.

Cuteness (in 3 day old puppy form)!!!

Ok, first off the babies. During the night, #10 appeared. We have not confiscated all of them again to try to figure out if that one was male or female, but it exists and that's all that matters. A few are staying quite runty, so I may or may not be bringing a couple puppies home with me after I take Little H back down to his mom's. If so, there will be plenty of pictures, hopefully chronicalling the transformation from pseudo-ugly to actually adorable (please, God, let them become adorable).

Still no clue on who the daddy might be, poor bastard puppies.

PCOSMama asked, and I have yet to deny my readers anything they ask (other than that creepy anonymous one that wanted more nudie pics), so I will slightly expound on the sex I had Sunday night. R was incredibly nervous- it had been 8 months, and he wasn't very "generous" in the "giving me pleasure" department prior to that. He focused so much on trying hard that the mood pretty much died. And I tried so hard to "urge" myself towards involuntary muscle spasms of the ecstasy type that I just stalled right at the edge and nothing would get me over it. We tried a second time about 15 minutes later, but R getting his rocks off without me the first time made him twice as nervous the second and I stalled again. Hopefully we'll have a calm night between now and when we leave for his mom's house for the holidays (because she's forcing us to stay in the master bedroom and he refuses to have sex on her bed) and we can try again. It was quite late Sunday night when we attempted (and we had no idea an attempt would be made, it was rather spur-of-the-moment and there had been no hinting beforehand) and with Monday being our court date we were both extremely stressed. It will get better with practice, right?

Yeah, that's not the vicarious living you were hoping for, is it? I'm gonna end up with cranky comments over my sub-par sex life, I can see it now. I promise to vaguely disguise and share some hotter details once they occur.

Now I'm off to stencil, cut, and glue 120 paper ornaments for Little H's class to decorate on the 14th. I already very much regret volunteering, let's hope the day spent in his classroom is adorable enough to make up for the carpal tunnel I'll get from cutting for days on end.

Not what I expected to do last night...

This weekend was so long. Quick note- court for Little H was yesterday. We didn't get custody, but we did get extended weekends (thursday thru monday) and way more time in the summer, and we get to take him to Louisianna for Christmas (which his mother was so incredibly pissed about, because we offered to give her all of Christmas next year so we could have it this year, and she refused. the judge gave us most of Christmas this year- including both Christmas eve and Christmas day- and not letting her have any extra time to make it up). Bitch should have worked with us in the first place.

Oh, and I had sex with R on Sunday night. For the first time in 8 months. For the first time since before the separation.

Now, all about last night. After court, we went back to my parents' house to pack up the car and get the dogs. Trunk packed. Last minute things found and crowding the front seat. Tiffany super excited. Leashes located. Tiffany in the back seat. R on his way to get Argos from the back yard. My dad's dog has something in her mouth. It's a newborn puppy. Hear screaming. There's another newborn puppy buried in the dirt. And a third abandoned in the dog house.

(disclaimer- that dog showed up as a stray, she did not get pg at my parents' house as the only male around there is a chihuahua and these puppies are huge, way bigger than I would have expected out of a beagle-sized dog, they did not know she was pg as she was VERY fat when she showed up and has actually slimmed down slightly towards a healthy size, she was beyond obese before, it was sick)

In comes the dog (the pup in her mouth was not alive, we have no idea when she had those three), we warmed up the two living pups, search more in her pen out back to see if there were more, sent R to the store for any type of formula he can find. She had 7 more inside. She'd mostly take care of one, but once she had a second pup with her, she got overwhelmed and didn't do anything. At one point, she had two she was taking care of and gave birth to a third, which she completely ignored. We had to take away them away, I had to actually remove that ignored pup from the sac, she hadn't done anything at all. It was a frantic few hours, with the first two nearly dead from cold, one still in a sac that I had to cut out and convince to breathe (I nearly had to breathe for him at first), feeding 9 newborns with the only formula and bottles we could get without a 90 minute round trip, starting the feeding schedule all over again by the time we had finished with the 9th pup, tying strings on everybody to help identify them, making lists of who was who and when they ate, taking them all into the bathroom to wipe them with a wet washcloth to get them to potty. Oh, and taking care of my own two dogs somehow in the mix.

Once the mama stopped laboring, we gave her some time to relax, then put the pups in with her to see if she would take care of them. Thankfully, she allowed them to nurse and she started licking them and it looked like she was going to do her thing. She is still nursing and taking care of them this morning. She has to be hidden inside her crate at all times, because any time she sees a cat or person moving around she freaks out. We are so glad she's doing good, because I really didn't want to take on 3-4 pups (my mom would have kept the rest, she has help down there and I'd be doing it alone up here). It takes 20 minutes to care for each pup, so I'd be working with them for an hour and really only get an hour or so break before I had to start it all up again. R very much values my sleep, he knows how vital it is for my happiness, so he's very glad we didn't end up with pups. We may end up having to take in one or two (because mama doesn't have enough nipples to feed everybody at once), but not having to raise an entire litter is such a relief.

Anybody want a puppy in 8 - 12 weeks? Mama is a beagle/german shepherd?/something else hairy mix. Not sure what daddy is, probably something kinda big, most of the pups look slightly rottweiler-ish. Eventually they will be cute, I swear. And until then, they smell like puppies, which is awesome.

My 101 Things

In catching up on Beth's blog, I stumbled on her 101 things. And decided that I should try one too. I'm not sure how excited I am, because this will prove to all of you just how "off" I can be sometimes. What the hell, that didn't stop me from posting nude pictures, so it's not stopping me now.

1. I need to have an ending point, I need to see the end of the tunnel. Case in point- I typed in every number before starting, even though it caused me to forget several of the things I had already thought of.


2. I need to know that my effort is appreciated. This means I can do very little just for myself. While R has been gone, I rarely clean the house or do dishes, because I cannot appreciate my own hard work. I will scrub every nook and cranny right before he comes home, but until then I can't force myself to be proactive. I can't even enjoy cooking for myself, food just doesn't have that relaxing and indulgent flavor if I'm not making it for somebody else too.

3. As much as I really want to know what is going on in our budget, I need R to be in charge of it. I try to give my ideas on what money to save and our "play money," but I have some sort of fear of having to take care of it myself.

4. This drives R crazy, because I'm constantly asking to be involved but freaking out and running away when he does try to involve me in the monthly budget planning.

5. R also hates my eating habits when he's gone. Since I can't enjoy eating food I've spent time preparing, I eat nothing but TV dinners, bagel pizzas, and lun.chables. And cereal.

6. I don't usually eat those things when R is here, I save the "comfort food" factor of those things for when he's gone. I worry that if I indulge in bagel pizzas when he's around, they won't taste as good when he's gone and therefore I wouldn't eat much at all.


7. If I could eat nothing but Taco Bell while R is gone, I would. There is something about their chips that is just heavenly when dipped into that hot little plastic cup of cheese goo.


8. I nearly drove back to Taco Bell on Monday, because they only gave me 2 sauce packets total for my 2 tacos. I always use 2 mild packets per taco. From now on I will go inside to order so I can grab my own sauce packets and not deal with the stingy drive-thru lady. If I hadn't had extra sauce packets in my fridge (for just such an emergency), I wouldn't have been able to eat, seriously.


9. Which means my sauce packet emergency stash is now drained (because we always do drive-thru and they always stiff me on extra sauce packets) and I'm slightly panicked about the next time I have Taco Bell.


10. My brain latches on to weird things to obsessively worry about. Like wondering how hard it would be to replace a few ceiling tiles, if we'd have to take out the whole row, just the few surrounding tiles, everything to the wall... if the candelabra were to fall. A candelabra that is NOT currently put up, and I have no idea if we'll ever put up at all, considering the house is a little small for something of that size hanging from the ceiling, plus we never use candles, and it doesn't really match the decor. But I've been worrying for days about how to fix the ceiling if it falls.


11. I'm now considering drywalling the ceiling so that tiles are not an issue should we ever decide to put up the candelabra.


12. I really want new furniture, to go with the great rug we bought a few months ago.


13. But the rug has me so content that I don't actually care about furniture right now.


14. My dogs eat holistic, grain-free food. I was adament about cutting out fillers and poor-quality ingredients in their food.


15. But their treats are full of the crap I made sure their food doesn't have.


16. I don't care if that makes me a hypocrite, they rarely get treats anyway, so I don't see it as affecting them much. Plus, that food is expensive, which I don't mind, but grain-free treats cost as much per month as their food, and that's crazy.


17. I love both of my dogs, but pet one more than the other. The one I pet less is because he is always licking and rubbing his nose all over me, and I hate being slimed. I give the extra pettings when he is not around, because I don't want him to get jealous.


18. I feel so guilty about that, so I give him one more treat than the other dog every day. They don't notice the difference (because I give him an extra bedtime treat, and they are separated at night), but it eases my guilt to know that I'm somehow spoiling him in a way I don't spoil her.


19. I'm pretty sure that makes me crazy.


20. And I don't care, because my dogs are happy and loved.


21. Here begins writing session 2 of this little experiment in knowing myself. Session 1 went well, but I'm starting to feel a little lost and wondering how much there really is to know about me.


22. R tells me I'm perfect on a daily basis.


23. It means more to me coming from my friend K.


24. Only because K startled me the first time he said it. I had mentioned to K a conversation I'd had with my ex-husband prior to the divorce, telling him that every once in a while I just wanted him to tell me that I'm perfect. And said ex replied with "you're perfect, FOR ME." Yep, that divorce was worth it. But K remembered, and one day I was really down and upset and he told me I was perfect. I didn't think he had paid attention to that conversation, and I never expected him to remember. But he did, so I will always smile so big I almost cry when K tells me I'm perfect.


25. I feel like R jumped on the "perfect" bandwagon because he was jealous that K could affect me so much with just 2 words. I'd told him the ex story long before I told K, and K was the one that remembered and made a point to say it when I needed it most. R says it constantly, and that takes away a lot of the meaning for me.


26. I met K when I worked at cub scout camp (he worked on the boy scout side of camp). I was the "health officer." A glorified name for "girl who dispenses medications and sometimes washes a boo boo."


27. K was infatuated with me, but I thought very little of it, since I was one of 3 female staff members at the entire camp. We eventually did "date" long distance after camp, but we didn't "click" as a romantic couple and just stayed friends.


28. That was over 5 years ago, and I have considered him one of my very best friends since that summer.


29. Considering R and I have been together 7 1/2 years, that whole 5 years ago date can be confusing. R and I were very on-again-off-again. We were together for the first time 7 1/2 years ago, but it was about 50/50 on and off until 4 1/2 years ago when he proposed.


30. Those off-again times resulted in my first marriage and Little H's conception.


31. I got married the first time for none of the right reasons. I didn't want to be alone, an ex-boyfriend turned friend stood up to his family for me, diamonds are pretty, R was being an idiot and had completely cut off communication with me for no reason 2 months prior to me getting engaged. The guy promised to take care of me forever.


32. 3 months later he was calling me, drunk, from the strip club every night, telling me what his favorite girl was wearing and which girl he was going to have dinner with or take to the movies.


33. The ex and I were married for 6 months before we knew it was legal.


34. The county clerk had no marriage record for us, kept claiming it was lost in the mail or never sent by the official. Turns out it was there the whole time, "somebody" had convinced them to file it under the wrong date (because it was still in alphabetical order) and not enter it into the computers.


35. That "somebody" was ex's grandfather, who had way more weight in that town than somebody of his morals ever should.


36. Our marriage record appeared instantly when grandpa called to get it so ex could get a bigger paycheck from the military, but for another 2 months after that when I needed it the thing was still "lost."


37. I'm weird, so I actually considered deleting this number and making a stupid joke at the end about nobody noticing. Then I realized that it would be very m.yspace to do such a thing, and I'm way more mature than that. But I am curious as to why this number stuck out in my head as being the one I should delete.


38. My favorite number is actually 15, so 37 holds no significance that I know of.


39. I am OCD about my keys. I check my purse twice before I get out of the car, twice more after I get out but before I shut the door, and at least once more as I walk away from the car- making sure I did put my car keys in their pocket in my purse. I also take my house keys with me when I walk to the end of my tiny driveway to check the mail.


40. The house keys are somewhat justified, though. Last winter we had adopted a german shepherd from the shelter, and while R and I unloaded some things from the truck into the garage we had the dogs in the laundry room (this is before the male we have now, but we had our lab mix). When we went to enter the house after we finished, the deadbolt was locked. Turns our the german shepherd really wanted to come outside with us and pawed at the door until it locked. My keys were in my purse, in the house, and that was the exact moment we realized R had locked his keys in the truck.


41. The truck window was open just enough to reach in and unlock it, so we weren't locked outside all night and no locksmith was necessary. But I will never be on the outside of anything without my keys again.


42. Our house only has 2 bedrooms, one for us and one for Little H. I think I let R buy this house for that reason, because I had lost all hope of having a baby and couldn't handle the idea of a third bedroom that would never become a nursery.


43. Turns out our insurance does cover the RE. We were told multiple times last year that it didn't, so we cancelled our appt and I went on BCP to control the endo. I just got the benefits book, and the RE is covered, including any diagnostics. And there is no mention of medications not being covered, so I think we actually have coverage for those, too, just a crazy-high copay because there is no way IF meds are part of their formulary.


44. I'm excited by that and scared at the same time, because of the whole "haven't had sex with my husband in 8 months" thing I blogged about not long ago. I want to get started right away, but I don't want R to feel like he's just a sperm bank, and I want to be in a place inside myself where I can "be" with R completely, before I'm knocked up and morning sickness takes away any chance of nookie.


45. R is even more excited than I am, he's making plans for how to take care of me after lap (because I can feel that the endo is raging again, so I need/want one before we start TTC again), wondering what drugs he can give me before the HSG so I'm not in as much pain this time, wants the list of baby names we came up with way back when we were naive and hopeful, keeping track of the foods I sometimes crave now, especially the odd ones (like Pi.zza Hut cheesy breadsticks, made on an unwashed cinnamon breadsticks pan, so they have cinnamon sugar on the bottom and cheese on the top- had it once on accident, and now I need it sometimes).


46. But we actually don't have to have sex to get pg, in fact, sex won't get us pg. So we could start seeing the RE and doing IUI, and never have sex again. Not that we would, but it's strange to know that I could NEVER have sex again, and still get pg.


47. I'm not telling R about that. Besides the fact that he would be crushed, he would also agree with me and drag me to the RE right away to get started.


48. He's got the baby bug more than me, like 2ww with strange symptoms, he just knows it's going to happen, baby bug.


49. I don't know if I'm amazed by his continuing naivete or irritated by his lack of reality.


50. I chose to write from the computer desk today, rather than my comfy lap desk at the couch, because the dogs are comfy on the couch.


51. If a bigger couch would fit in my house, I would buy one so that they could stretch out on in and still leave me a little bit of room to sit.


52. Except they would just stretch out even more, so I'd still have to sit elsewhere. And I wouldn't mind at all.


53. They drive me so crazy when I'm trying to use the computer. I think they are jealous of the laptop, because it's the only time I won't give them at least a little attention before telling them to go play on their own.


54. Writing day 3, which is over a week since the last time I was writing here...

55. My thoughts tend to ramble inside my head, so much that even I can't always figure out how I got from one thought to the next.

56. Back to the K thing- when I worked at camp, my "camp name" (for fun, and I think a little to protect everybody's privacy) was Lucky Bug.


57. K gave me that name, because on the night I was trying to come up with a name a bug fell down my shirt. I'm sure you can all guess the rest of the story.


58. My great-grandmother was a mail-order bride of some sort.


59. But not the Russian stereotype, she was from the Netherlands or something (I don't have all the details, but if anybody can guess her country-of-origin I will write an entire blog about how awesome you are. The last name is Nutting, if that helps).


60. R and I are getting each other new cell phones for Christmas this year (he's doing the ordering, but we each picked out the one we want), mostly because they're practically free when we renew our contract, and partially because we both just want new cute phones.


61. Mine was so much harder to decide to get, because I only had 1 option. I HATE flip phones, don't want any type of bla.ckberry-ish thing, and the only slider phone option has an MP3 player, which I would never use (I have 3 CDs on rotation in my car, but I only switch between them once every 2-4 months), so I was left with a single choice. Which is ok, because it's just a standard bar phone, it calls people and it has text messaging. That's all I want or need. Yeah, a camera would be convenient, but camera phones take shitty pictures and I have an awesome digital camera if I really want pictures of anything.


62. You would think that only 1 option would make it easy, but it didn't, because then the choice wasn't "which phone do I want?" but rather "do I really want a new phone if the only option isn't exactly what I had wanted?"


63. I really wanted a slider phone.


64. Almost entirely because I'm pretty sure it would look completely bitchy to hang up on somebody with one, and I think that would be fun.


65. The image of hanging up on somebody is probably the worst reason EVER to choose a specific phone, but I'm ok with that.


66. Thursday is my grandparents' 50th wedding anniversary.


67. They had a double wedding, my grandma's sister married my grandpa's brother in the same ceremony.


68. The cousins from those two couples are SO similar- looks, voice, mannerisms, etc. They're basically all brothers and sisters genetically.


69. Sadly, that also extends to the prevalence of diabetes in that generation.


70. R suggested hanging that chandelier. I immediately projected my state of near-panic about the possibility of it falling, so it's now sitting in the bedroom with no ideas what to do with it.


71. R and I have decided to have Thanksgiving Dinner alone this year. Maybe not alone, because we are going to invite our friend and her baby (my godson) since her fiance is gone and her family sucks. But she may not feel like driving 2 hours, which actually wouldn't bother me at all.


72. I don't think I'm even making a turkey, probably just baking chicken breast.


73. The "fixin's" are the important part anyway, who cares what kind of bird it is as long as there is stuffing and mashed potatoes and gravy and corn and rolls and pie (additional "fixin's" suggestions welcome. please note that we don't like cranberries, or onions, or green bean casserole). I plan on doing it up right (with the exception of the bird) and really enjoying ourselves.


74. I am sad that we won't be with my family, but Argos is stuck outside when we go downstate and I am tired of him being ignored and tied up. My dad was an ass about things over the weekend, which gave me even more reason to boycott family dinner.


75. My family used to be so close, we did everything together. Now two of my cousins live too far away to come home (one is in Wyoming and was just home over the summer, the other is in Australia), one cousin just doesn't come around at all anymore, another cousin should be in jail for all the shit he's pulled recently (including driving bad on his dad's motorcycle, even though he doesn't have a licence to drive even a car, stealing money from every family member he's been allowed around in the past year, etc), that one's dad has a new girlfriend with a 5 year old son and she's one of the worst parents I've encountered in a long time (the kid swears constantly, screams at all times, hits, kicks, bites, violently abuses the chihuahua his dumbass mother got for him). Honestly, if my family just consisted of my mom, my grandparents, my aunt, and the two cousins that are too far away (and my brothers, they're alright), I'd be happy. The rest really aren't worth my time.


76. I'm really mourning the long-lost perfect family holiday. We'd eat off the good china and the special silverware, everybody smiled and laughed, everything tasted perfect, the house smelled like love. Honestly, we were a fucking greeting card! Aunt J's waldorf salad, cousin SJ and her determination to make mac & cheese from scratch (she always loved it, but it was NOT my favorite), grandma's pies, loaded with whipped cream.


77. I know Thanksgiving this year wouldn't be that, so I'm glad that I can use Argos as an additional excuse to not go. I really don't want to be disappointed by my family.


78. I kick ass at Har.ry Po.tter for Ga.meboy. I had to learn how to play it so I could help Little H if he needed it. I totally beat the game in less than a week.


79. I suck at just about every other video game ever invented. I can't even get through 3 screens in Zeld.a before dying. There are not enough fairies in that game!


80. Except for Drag.on Que.st. That is the awesomest game ever. I have one with an emulator on my laptop (I believe it's DQ5), but I want them all. I can play for 6 hours without any sort of break and be perfectly happy.


81. I never played that game on our N.inte.ndo as a child, never really cared to. But now I love it so much.


82. R does the same thing, except with games that people have actually heard of, and that are new and use real technology.


83. Technology pisses me off, give me Ore.gon Trail anyday.


84. I think maybe I feel that way because I suck. There are entirely too many buttons on the new game controllers.


85. I recently found out that I did a lot more damage than originally thought when I strained my neck as a child (every muscle on the right side was pulled, my left ear actually touched my chest). As a result, I have very little head-tilting range of motion, and my head is permanently cocked just a little bit.


86. When my head is positioned properly, everything looks different, because for 18 years I've adjusted to it being "off."


87. I have a degree as a paramedic.


88. I decided not to complete my internship or do the national testing for licensure when I nearly had a mental breakdown in the back of the ambulance one day.


89. I haven't looked back.


90. Although sometimes I get jealous when I see an ambulance go by with lights and siren. I miss the adrenaline rush, and the feeling of helping people.


91. I was also a firefighter for a year and a half.


92. I didn't do much fire fighting because it was a small rural department, and then I injured my back during training class and had to step away from most of it.


93. My poor spine is straight in places that should curve and curved in places that should be straight. For being an extremely cautious, tiny, 25 year old girl, my back is fucked. I am so gonna be the grandma with the hump, there's really no hope for me.


94. On the topic of my family, my grandpa's side of the family has a very persistent trait of "the hidden baby toe." Nearly 1/2 of my baby toe is underneath its neighbor, my grandpa's is so bad you can barely tell he has one at all. Crazy genetics, even my nephews have slightly hidden baby toes.


95. That damn toe is what makes me saddest about Little H not being mine biologically. I cut his toenails every weekend he comes over, and I get slightly sad when I cut the baby toenail because I don't have to search for it under the next toe.


96. I also hate that his mother never cuts them, which is why at 2 years old his toenails wrapped all the way around the ends of his toes and ended underneath.


97. It took me 6 months of fighting and kicking and screaming and cutting his toenails to get them back to near where they belonged.


98. The way we got him to sit still while I did it: "if you sit still, for every toe that hurts you can punch Daddy one time."


99. So it taught him to hit, at least his toenails end on the top if his foot and not the bottom now. And he only ever hit when cutting his nails, he knew better than to try that crap any other time.


100. His mother still doesn't cut his nails, although she will sometimes do the tiniest of trimmings and claim she did (as in his nails were still in desperate need of being cut, but at least he didn't look like he was wearing fake nails anymore because of the length).


101. Being with R still makes me happier than anything else in the world, I breathe deeper and feel more comfortable with him around than I ever have before. I can't imagine my life without that. Oh, and I never did remember those things I had forgotten while typing in the numbers before starting.

I'm not lonely

Not that I'm embarassed about the dirty dream, I just figured I should put something else up so that I'm not "that weird girl who's always talking about taboo shit." You know, like the 2 weeks I was obsessed by my nude photo shoot (ok, it was more than 2 weeks, I admit it).

I'm not lonely, I swear. I'm bored out of my freaking skull, but not lonely. I love having my house to myself (as long as the sun is somewhere above the horizon). But oh so bored. And bored leads to rambling thoughts, which leads to "I should blog about that" even if it's not very interesting. Sorry you all have to put up with me during my boredom.

It also means checking out sta.tcounter much more regularly. Apparently I was popular in Dubai one day (likely just one person, but they clicked all over the place reading my babble). Most often people come to my blog from Mel's blog, quite a few from Amy's blog too. And then I saw it, somebody came from Beth's blog. Holy crap, I'm linked to from Beth's blog too. More than 2 people like me enough to provide links in their blogs. I'm astonished, because really I do ramble and make little sense most of the time, and I do not stick to the whole IF theme of my blog, ever. And then I realized, I don't really know Beth, I haven't been following her story. Hell, I hadn't read her blog at all before this week. I have got a lot of catching up to do. I promise, Beth, I'm reading a lot, I will do right by you. I will be worthy of your link.

Mel, Amy, not meaning to say that your readership and links don't mean the world to me as well, because they do. I read you every day. I'm just sucking up to Beth a little because I suddenly feel extra-special that somebody I haven't commented on or exchanged emails with actually linked to me. I'm in love with the way that feels.

And it makes more work for me, because it reminds me that I haven't edited/added to my blog links since I started this thing. And I read way more blogs than I have linked to. Time to step up, I'm making myself look bad. Oooh, hey, anybody out there that has links to me, tell me, I want to know. It'll make me giddy for a month, and I'll add you too and read you every day. That makes me sound so sad, begging for people to acknowledge me, but I'm ok with that.

Seriously, Beth, that made my month.

I had a naughty dream!!!!

Not that any of you really want these details, I'm just so excited. As you know, I moved out back in May. Things were bad with R. The summer went by, things were slowly getting better. Then all of the issues with Little H, so I moved back a little earlier than I had really planned. We've been continuing to work on our issues, and we've come so far. Except where intimacy is concerned. It's been since March. I just can't get past the trust issues (as in trusting that he will provide adequate attention to me, not just enjoy himself and fall asleep), and that is really hindering getting any further in our reconnection. I want to love him in every way, and emotionally I am feeling the pull towards him more and more every day, but something is holding me back physically.

Last night, my subconcious started getting a little impatient. It decided to let me know that at least some parts of me are quite ready. Holy crap! In 8 months, absolutely nothing has hinted to me that I want to be intimate with R, not much hinting in the 6 months before that either. I think I might want to have sex with my husband. This is a very new thought to me (and a very important one, considering this is supposed to be my TTC with IF blog). I'm not saying that I'm not physically attracted to R, and his arms around me make me feel better than anything in the world. When he holds me, or kisses my cheek, or absentmindedly rubs my feet, I never want to be with anybody else. But this whole wanting to have sex with him thing is actually quite new. I think I like it. Not that I'm really ready to act on it yet, but there seems to finally be a light at the end of the tunnel. If only I could tell R without him getting frantically excited and talking about nothing else until I punch him in the face. At least I know, that's better than nothing.

How this came to be (my story)

I've always dreamed about being a stay-at-home-mom: baking cookies, teaching my children how to color inside the lines, giggling all day, and sighing in relaxation when they are finally tucked into bed. R didn't really have a "parenthood" dream, but when he heard mine he promised to make it come true. He started trying to fulfill that promise the day we got married. We knew my endometriosis might cause a problem, but everybody I personally knew with endometriosis had children without treatments and we thought we'd be just as lucky.

One year later, on our anniversary, we got our very first positive pregnancy test. We cried, I slept sitting up because I was so nauseous all night long. A week later I was already a DD (up from a decent C), but that night I didn't need to prop myself up. A few days after that, the doctor confirmed that I was no longer pregnant. One whole year of trying, charting my temperature, peeing on any kind of testing device I could find (only the last 3 months, I stayed POAS-free for the first 9 months), and my baby was dead before I had a chance to experience even the first awkward OB appointment. Another 18 months of trying, laparoscopy to remove endometrial adhesions and cysts (and also move one ovary back into position, as it had been yanked back and down due to the adhesions), screaming with pain as dye was injected to see if my fallopian tubes were open, never buying another pregnancy test because I knew I was barren. We finally decided to give up, I got a prescription for birth control to help "control" the endometriosis until we were ready to try again. I was waiting for my period so I could start taking the pills, it came late. I was in an excited daze as I rushed to the store to buy a pregnancy test. Positive, barely. The next day my period came, but the test was still positive, barely. I begged my new doctor for a blood test, I went in later that day, and it was too low. This baby didn't even truly exist before it was gone.

Today we should be preparing for my firstborn's second birthday (a bit early, but I like to be well prepared), the new baby just a couple months old. Most of the family would be meeting the new baby for the first time at Thanksgiving Dinner. I would be washing baby socks, cursing how fast a toddler's feet grow as I pack a diaper bag to go to the store for yet another pair of shoes, and humming lullabies as I nurse my infant to sleep, big brother/sister sharing our rocking chair and humming along, R watching from across the room and smiling. Instead we are doing nothing. We aren't even seeing a specialist to help us make our dreams a reality. We can't. Our insurance won't cover medications or procedures, they have denied our request for even a consultation with the reproductive endocrinologist. It is pretty much set in stone that we will never be able to get pregnant the "old fashioned" way, and now we are also being denied treatment that would get around the medical condition I have been diagnosed with.

If my legs didn't work, they'd give me a wheelchair and physical therapy and a special car with speed control on the steering wheel. If I couldn't see, I'd get some sunglasses, a cool dog, books on tape, brail writing on bathroom doors. If I had cancer, people would wear ribbons to support me, women would grow their hair extra long so they could donate it for wigs, my struggle would have everybody standing by me and trying to help. But I can't have a baby. Women don't have egg donation parties, people don't see my empty womb and offer to read the menu for me if it doesn't come in a "fertility impaired" version, movies don't have a "child free for the emotionally devastated" option. But I don't care if society does anything to make my life easier, all I want is insurance coverage. Let me have the same pregnancy abilities as everybody else.

A couple days late

It has been slightly over a week. But still very close, so I'm going to pretend I didn't fail at my goal. You should all pretend with me.

My brother CML is visiting, for another hour and a half before we leave to go back downstate. He came up with me on Tuesday to keep me company while R is gone. That and his girlfriend is an insensitive whore. Long story, but I'll try to break it down.
Backstory: Tattooist is R's uncle, we're all part of a group of friends with several little breakaway groups, CML and Tattooist are very close, nearly as close as Tattooist and I, CML and DW (dirty whore) have been together for a couple years, the last 15 months she has been living in our parents' house with him.

OK, now for the current story: DW suddenly decides she's not entirely in love with CML, and tells him that. But she stays for a couple months, "hoping the feelings come back." At the same time, she is starting to develop a crush on Tattooist (who happens to be 18 years older than her, she's barely 20, going on 14). She tells Tattooist, he constantly tries to get her to go away without telling her off (because of the group of friends thing), she goes as far as trying to get Tattooist to let her sleep on his couch on the nights she works late (because my parents live 35 minutes from her work). Tattooist wants nothing to do with her, but she's developed Delusional and Horny Stalker Syndrome (DHSS for short). DHSS causes her to tell people that they've kissed (before she officially broke up with CML even).

When that doesn't work to get Tattooist to fall in love with her, she tells a coworker that she's had sex with both Tattooist and another coworker. The coworker she is part of the group of friends, in fact, Tattooist was best man in her wedding 3 months ago. Coworker tells her hubby, the hubby tells CML's best friend from high school, the friend tells CML. That friend also tells his girlfriend, who used to work at the tattoo studio, the girlfriend immediately calls Tattooist.

At the same time, she's text messaging R constantly. He has never spoken to her on the phone and does not respond to any of her text messages. But, that didn't stop her from sending 10 in one day, all about how she's in love with Tattooist. "I like Tattooist more than anybody" "It hurts so much that I can't be with Tattooist" You get the idea. Very middle school, but that's her maturity level. She also claimed to have had sex with "somebody else" and that she thought of Tattooist the entire time. R forwarded the text messages to me. I was 3 blocks from Tattooist's house, so I went over there and showed him, then showed CML when I got back to my parents' that night. CML called DW, lots of yelling, called her the "c" word. She was clueless as to how he would have heard any of that info (um, hello, best friend's best friend, oh and brother-in-law, did you expect them to hold your confidence over somebody they have known way longer and doesn't drive them crazy?). He told her about the text messages, but not the stuff she told her coworker. She called R when she got off the phone with CML. "I thought the conversations we had were confidential?" "What conversations?" "Rememver when CML and I visited you and we talked about 'stuff' that might happen between us?" "You're fucking crazy, we never had any conversations about that psycho shit, and CML was always there, we never had a single conversation alone, even about boring shit!"

OMG, I have never held such contempt for anybody in my entire life (ok, maybe Little H's biological mother, but we communicate through lawyers now, so she's not nearly as big of a pain in my ass). Not only did DW screw around on my brother, she also tried to scam my beloved Uncle Tattooist into falling madly in love with her, then she claimed he did even though he did everything possible to get rid of her, and then she tried to claim a tryst with MY HUSBAND! That bitch has issues! And she's staying with the mother of my godson while she tries to find some new boyfriend to shack up with. Which means I have to see her at my dear godson's 1st birthday party this weekend. If she speaks to me, I'm going to stab her with my plastic fork.

Accomplishing my goal, somewhat...

Half the goal is just blogging weekly, which I am doing now. The other half, the part about having something worthwhile to blog about, that's a bunch of crap.

R left on Thursday. Last night was my first night alone, because I spent the weekend at my parents' house with Little H. Yesterday also happened to be the day AF and her sidekick Endo decided to attack. AF prodded Endo to flaunt it's full power and cause major back pain. My body responded the way it usually does to Endo and tried to rid itself of the evil by vomiting. My body does not understand the logic of "Endo is not in my stomach, it is mauling my abdomen from outside the organs." And Endo has not gotten the memo about "BC is supposed to stop the symptoms." Usually Endo is lazy and just causes minor back pain, but this month it has decided to kick into full throttle. I am not happy. And now I'm tired and my belly hurts from wretching all night. Hopefully it was just a one-time thing, because I really don't want another lap anytime soon. The holidays are coming, it's just not a good time for that.

The good news- throwing up made me forget that I was missing R. Usually I can't sleep and am up till 5 am every time he's gone, even for weekend drill. I'm trying desperately to be better this month and thrive while he's gone, not just survive. Tiffany and Argos will take turns sharing my bed. I feel safer and more comfortable when the other side of the bed is not empty. Although I do prefer sleeping with Tiffany over Argos, she doesn't hog the bed. And Argos usually sleeps in the laundry room, guarding the door. I like that idea. He may not actually guard anything, but knowing that anybody trying to break into my house would see a German Shepherd first thing makes me feel better. I still wish I had an unemployed friend or two to stay up here with me, but I made it through the first night OK.

R left the house after I did this weekend (we both went downstate on Wednesday), and he left me a little surprise. Everwhere I looked when I got back were little notes. Most just said "I love you," but there was also "you're perfect," "hello, beautiful," and "hugs and kisses." I was OK with him being gone till I saw those, then I realized that I miss him so much. I did so well when he left, no tears, but seeing those love notes made me break down. So much for being that "perfect military wife" that lets her hubby do his job and leave whenever he has to, showing him how strong she can be and not bawling her eyes out over minor training or field work. At least I'm still a "good military wife" not begging him to stay home or trying to prohibit him from going away. It's harder than I thought. We've been through a big deployment, I thought one little month at school would be easy.

Oh, and I got more work done on my tattoo. Not sure when I'll get pics up (because it's really awkward to hold the camera and try to take a picture of your own leg), but it's awesome. Now the vine goes from my ankle all the way to my butt. Not a smart place to tattoo, btw. The lower ass cusp is quite sensitive, especially near the dimple region. But, it had to go over my butt somewhere to continue to my back. And this sitting accomplished more than the first two combined, my whole thigh and starting on my butt. The first two were calf, then knee. I am so proud of myself for sitting through that much. I really wanted to wimp out 3/4 of the way through my thigh, but I hung in there and did everything we had stenciled. Yeah, I whined the whole fricken time, but I did it. I can't wait to get the outline finished so we can start coloring it in. I love just the outline, but Uncle Tattooist really wants to color it and won't settle for anything less than shading, so I'm all in. Fuck, it's going to hurt. But, it looks amazing, so a little pain is worth it. I'm even "modifying" my halloween costume to show it off. I'm going as a fairy and had this awesome lavender sparkly dress that I'm ripping a seam out of to show my whole leg. The dress looks better that way anyway. And I'm never going to wear it anywhere else, so it's not like I'm ruining anything. Now to sew the edges and figure out how to make wings...

Yep, nothing interesting to blog about. At least I tried.

Trying to keep up

I've set a new goal for my blog: actually posting once a week. Doesn't seem like a big goal, but I've never actually made a specific plan for how often I should post, so it's big to me. And having that in the back of my mind is going to keep me constantly thinking about blogging, make me more aware of my everyday life and the things that are blogworthy.

But, this is a really new goal, so I haven't come up with anything so far. Recently an "internet friend" of mine has decided to get a puppy. This has been a long time coming, for the past couple years she has been dealing with a car accident that caused injuries resulting in the removal of part of a lung. At that time, they also found lung cancer, so she's been enduring chemo. She can finally walk again, and she's feeling strong and healthy. So she's getting a puppy, from a wonderful breeder, with great lineage. I can't imagine how great she must feel if she's ready for a puppy. I am so proud of her, for making it through everything (she had several battles with pneumonia this spring, spending days to weeks in the hospital each time) and for the amazing person she has been. She is one of the strongest people I have ever "known." I know she'll never read this, but: Fiona (you know I'm talking to you), you are incredible. I know you hear it all the time, but that's because it's true. Your new little girl is the luckiest puppy in the entire world. I love you.

Other news: as of tomorrow, I'm alone for a month. R is going away for training. I don't do living alone, even with two big dogs to protect me. I guess it's good practice for if R ever gets deployed again (I write "if," but in my head I know the truth, I know the reality is "when"), but I don't want to practice being alone. I would just lock up the house and stay with my parents the whole time, but I have jury duty till the end of the month, so I have to be here. Anybody want to sleep over for a few weeks? My dogs are great cuddlers, I'll even let you pick which one to sleep with (because sharing any size bed with both is impossible). My mom is probably coming up for a while, and I have a few other friends that offered me their weekends, so I'm sure I'll be fine. And between the dogs and a couple loaded clips for the gun, I think am well protected. The dogs don't do much protecting, but they do freak out at tiny sounds, so I'll be very alert.

Birds have been attacking my house the past couple weeks. Apparently the frame around the window is the perfect ledge for standing on while they beat seeds against the side of the house to open them. Took 9 days to figure out the exact details, that's a lot of crazy dog moments.

I really hope the next few days give me something profound and thoughtful to blog about. Hell, I'd be happy with something even remotely interesting (because I'm sure nobody really cares about the birds using my house as a nutcracker). Maybe this new goal is impossible? I really need to learn to be more creative.

Anonymous said I have to... (children mentioned)

Actually, just a couple days after my last post I did snap out of it. A friend of mine just got engaged to a soldier, less than a week before he left for 2 1/2 months of training. R and I stayed with her that weekend, her first alone in quite a while. Having somebody else to take care of was just what I needed to get back to "normal." That same weekend, my parents installed new floors (by that, I mean R did 75% of the work and my brother cut everything that needed to be cut, while my parents thankfully disappeared to watch my other brother play rugby) and I got suckered into making stovetop baked apples for dessert. And the busyness hasn't stopped ever since.

My favorite tattoo shop is being remodeled, I spent 2 days there last week (I painted boards and fetched the level), then we had Little H for the weekend. It was great. He loves spending Thursday night with my parents and me (because that's when R's parenting time starts, but R has work on Friday and Little H has school, so I pick him up and we stay with my parents for a night and I take him to school in the morning), and can't wait to get up here on Fridays. Not sure how much of it is being with R and how much is playing with Shamu next door, but excited is excited, so I'll take it. Little H went with Shamu and his parents to see the train on Saturday. Something about it being the "insipiration" for Po.lar E.xpre.ss. They got him a wooden train whistle and the photographer for the local paper took their picture. Yay, my little boy is gonna be in the paper. Shamu's mom gave him the wrong spelling of our last name (um, lady, the kid knows how to spell his name, ask him if you don't know, silly), but who cares, he's gonna be in the paper. We usually read the paper online, but I guess we'll have to buy it this week.

The new dog is still doing great, I can't imagine life without him. I don't know where his original family is or why they haven't looked for him, but it's been long enough that we've decided they can't have him back even if they do show up (unless there is a child crying and Argos obviously loves them). We still have a lot of work to do, he's a little too eager to play with cats. It doesn't help that the first cats he was really around when we got him were nursing mothers that still freak out as soon as they see him (I'm talking balls of fur trying to kill him through the sliding glass door). He thinks it's the funnest game ever and nearly breaks down the door trying to play back. It could be a long process.

I have the rough design drawn up for my new desk, which I'll be emailing to my brother down at U of M to have a real engineering student perfect. What I have is good enough to build from, but I'm building with my grandfather and he'd try to "help" me "fix" it. I don't want help or fixing, so the best quality blueprint I can get is totally worth owing somebody a small favor. How difficult can building one desk be? Well, it's going in a corner, with 3 workstations (one desktop and 2 laptops), a bookshelf on the end towards the living room, some sort of shelving above, and a cut-out area where the desktop goes for convenience. One side will be nearly 7 feet long, and the other just over 5 feet. This is going to be the biggest computer desk ever built, and it's going in my 980sqft house. A massive undertaking, with the potential to overwhelm the entire house, but R and I are so excited. The excitement will probably wane for quite a while, since I will require the array of tools in my grandfather's garage and he's leaving Dec 1 for the winter in Florida (my grandparents fit so well into the stereotype of Michigan retired folk), but once the snow is gone again and we actually get to work on it, it's gonna be great.

Still no decisions made on the TTC front. But I've been back here for 2 months and I don't want to leave, so there is progress. And we planned to wait until 2008 anyway. We should have the truck and motorcycle paid off by next summer, some cash stowed away for treatments, and all the home-improvement ideas out of my head and into the house, so I'm thinking lap sometime in the fall and whatever treatments starting by the holiday season (is that a stupid plan? monitoring and treatments and massive dinners and all that shopping all thrown together? please give me your opinions. we're taking our time starting back up, so if it's smarter to wait until spring I have no problem with that)

Here it comes

I can feel another black hole on its way in. This isn't supposed to be happening, the last one really wasn't that long ago. And everything is working with it, pushing me further in. The dogs are extra-needy (they can probably sense that there's something wrong with me), the neighbor dog broke their fence today so I had to lock him in our yard, which meant Argos couldn't go out until R got home to take the neighbor dog home, which made Tiffany and Argos an even bigger pain in my butt. And my damn computer chair is going to hell, randomly it just gets shorter, whatever it is that holds it up is going out. I'm currently 4 inches shorter than I was when I started typing.

I knew it was coming, there were signs, I just pretended they weren't real. Like the entire past week when I haven't cared to eat at all, when food has lost almost all flavor. I didn't even enjoy the Taco Bell nachos I had last weekend, usually they are an indulgence (because I refuse to eat crap very often, but it tastes sooooo good). And I've been tired, not just slightly tired, I mean unable to focus on anything and so lazy I go 3 days without showering tired. This thing is about to suck me in, and I have no idea how to get away.

On top of that, I have commitments. This weekend R and I are staying with a friend of mine, her fiance (as of last weekend, yay them) just left for 2 1/2 months of military training and she doesn't want to be alone this first weekend. So I have to entertain her, and be all smiles and sunshine for her baby boy- my godson. When all I really want to do is lay on the couch with random packages of instant food around me (like tostitos and salsa, and lunchables pizza) and only get up to pee all weekend long. I'm not going to actually enjoy the black hole, but fighting it doesn't work, so I'd might as well just do what I can to get myself through it easiest (instant food is the only option, if it requires any effort beyond opening a bag or box I will not eat until the black hole is over in a week or so).

I sound fucking mental. Sometimes I think I must be. How can I be normal if this sudden depression hits me like this? I know that it's only about 2 weeks start to finish (including the few days of crankiness before I realize it's happening and the few days of quiet and crying after I start coming around), and I can completely function the whole time (the first time it happened after we got married, R never knew, he thought I was PMSing or something), this just makes me feel out of control. I want some sort of protective cage to hide myself in until it's over, where can I find one of those?

No more stealthiness, the truth is revealed (kid mentioned)

OK, so I wasn't being all that stealthy, I'm sure some of you figured it out. But now for the details.

Yesterday we went to court over custody of Little H. It was intended to be an emergency hearing (which was scheduled over a month after we asked for it), but it's going to end up being an all out battle. Little H and his mom (aka: womb host) plus her boyfriend (who does not rate a name) and the other 3 kids (products of an unworthy mother who will forever suffer needlessly- POAUMWWFSN) lived in a tent over the summer. Womb Host claims that they just stayed there 1-3 weeks per month all summer, but Little H doesn't remember ever sleeping in a house from the time the first "camping trip" started until after CPS got involved 3 months later.

Other things eventually came up, like Little H's lack of dental care (he will be 6 in November and had never been to a dentist, he finally went last week and needed 2 root canals- if anybody can explain how teeth get that bad in 5 years, please let me know because I'm apalled) and his attendance record in Kindergarten (21 1/2 days absent, 14 tardies, the only reason a truency officer wasn't called is that truency doesn't apply to Kindergarten, at least not in our area), plus 5 previous CPS complaints that CPS didn't look at or even know existed when they started the most recent investigation.

We ran out of time yesterday (were only scheduled for 1 hour, and we went over by 20 minutes with 2 witnesses still waiting, and a list of a dozen more now that we have time to find/subpoena them), so we're waiting to hear when the next court date is. So far, every point scored in that courtroom is on our side, and Womb Host dug herself one big hole. She dragged Little H there, thinking that she could force him to testify against his father (she's coached him), but instead got an ass chewing from the judge for it. She got mouthy back at him and got scolded again. She is showing them her true colors, and it's gonna get us custody. I'm so happy. Little H deserves a stable environment, not moving every few months or missing school an average of over 2 days per month.

Keep your fingers crossed everybody. We can't think of any ace in the hole she might have (because we've already pre-empted the ones we knew about, and Little H won't be testifying at all- which was half of her strategy from what we can tell), so now it's just riding it out and getting ready to be full-time parents. We can't wait.

Being on a break does not give you a break

No energy to tell you the frustrating news about Little H, the fact that our lawyer has almost no hope now (it's amazing how one little dentist appt takes biomom from unfit to parent of the year). I don't want to talk about it. Today I need to talk about even more dreams, the kind that you can't get away from, the kind that hurt that part of your heart that is supposed to feel only true happiness.

Saturday was the big party at the tattoo shop. R had to work, so it was my job to take pictures for the website. It was a long day, making sure I got shots of the bands, all the sponsors, the owner and artists having fun, etc. And then my little brother (CML) (who had been there most of the day) starts seriously looking into the design of his next tattoo. That tattoo will be his memorial for Goofball. As I walk past with the camera, on my way to get a few shots of the band jamming away, I see his go.ogle image search- gorilla. Goofball's collection of gorillas pops into my head, and I blink back a few tears and walk faster to get outside. The sun is glaring down and I'm instantly hot and wishing I was still standing in air conditioning, but afraid to step back inside for fear I would break down. An hour later, as I'm watching a group of college students get matching tattoos (and the girls in the group getting pierced), CML comes up to me with a few sheets of paper. "Which do you think is more like Goofball?" I have to look, I can't hide from it forever. One is a big silverback gorilla pounding his chest and roaring. That's not Goofball, he had no need to act aggressive. The other is standing on all 4 extremities, but with a serious look on his face, like he's protecting what he needs to, but not beyond the ability to comfort "his" children. That's Goofball, every bit of his personality, it says so much more to CML and I, because we know what that gorilla is thinking, we can see it in his eyes, and we miss it.

What does that have to do with the dream? Nothing really, there's no real link, until you get really deep into my brain. Somehow, Goofball is so linked to my desire for children that it felt like I lost more than him when he died. He was my link to hope that we'd overcome IF, he was the person I wanted to give a baby to, almost more than I wanted to give R a baby. So crying over Goofball suddenly feels like a precursor to my terrible dream. A dream that I could never imagine living through in real life, one that I am devistated that any of you have had to.

I don't remember how it started, but the beginning isn't important anyway. The part that keeps replaying over and over in my head, that kept me awake most of Saturday night, is the important part. I was in some sort of office building, not sure if it was a medical office or not. The dreaming me didn't realize that I was pregnant, but the me in my dream knew. I remember the feel of my stomach, how soft it was, a little bit squishy, a safe place for my little one to grow. And then the baby started talking to me (inside my head). I was so happy to have that small conversation, it felt like the purest connection two beings could ever have. And then my baby told me the news, that it was about to die and there was no way to stop it. The baby asked me to call R over and tell him, so that he would know. I started feeling the baby's heartbeat, right through my belly, I knew that he/she was putting everything left into making it beat so hard we could feel it, to give us the comfort of saying goodbye. And then it stopped and my baby whispered goodbye to me, and I moved R's hand away from my stomach because the heartbeat was gone. We were still standing in the hallway of an office building, quiet, knowing that we'd still never be parents.

And then, in my dream, I woke up and felt my belly. Felt that it was still big and squishy and holding a baby. And then I woke up for real, knowing that the dream -and the dream it was apparently inside of- was fake. That I've never made it past 5 1/2 weeks, never long enough to bloat, definitely never long enough to feel the baby or look pregnant, or even find a heartbeat. And even if I did, Goofball won't be there to share any of it. Go ahead subconcious, kick me while I'm down.

Late Night Reruns

There comes a time when husbands finally "get it." After the frustration and cluelessness about IF, eventually they just understand. No more "let's keep trying, I just know it'll happen naturally this time," no more "I don't know why you're so upset by a BFN, you said you didn't think it had worked," no more "I'm tired of having sex when you're fertile, let's just do it for fun." At some point, they have that epiphany, a sudden understanding and empathy for what you've been through. And eventually, they show that knowledge and curse at Sex and the City.

Late at night, there really isn't anything that great on, even now that we have cable again. So, you end up watching random episodes of SATC, with all sorts of words omitted because it's on TBS or some wimpy channel like that and they don't allow any cursing. You don't really pay much attention to the TV, you pet the dogs and just leave it on as background noise. And then you hear "just because we can't have a baby doesn't mean we can't live our lives" or something very similar. Your husband's mouth drops open, and you suddenly realize that he's no longer an IF idiot.

Later in the show there's a cardboard baby, the whole "I can't give you a real one, but here's one to look at and make you 100X's more depressed" concept. R yelled at the TV, called the guy an inconsiderate douchebag, promised me to do whatever it takes to give me a real baby and never do something that cruel to me, EVER. I told him that if he ever did, I'd pack my stuff instantly, and use the cardboard baby as kindling to set his truck on fire. He agreed that it would be suitable punishment, that actually somebody as ass-ish as that deserved way more than a flaming truck.

I think I kinda like this husband of mine. Now that he's grown a brain, he might be worth holding onto.

Still being vague, but I can talk about the weekend

Little H was up for the weekend! R went and got him on Thursday after going to a few appointments in town (one of which was CPS to get the "real" story, because the biomom isn't always the best at relaying information), but the pick up time is rather late, so Little H went straight to bed when he got here.

Friday morning was all on me- getting him used to being at our house again after being denied so many of our weekends this summer and spending the ones we got with my parents, introducing him to Argos (which went great, they love each other), and getting ready for R's birthday. We made a couple invitations on the computer (very crappy ones, "somebody" decided I didn't need Paint or any other fun programs on my laptop, so I had to make them in Word) and took them to our two neighbors. R's office closed early so he came home around noon. I ran to the store with Little H, then took him next door to meet the neighbor boy (ummm, I'm gonna call him Shamu, because that's the toy he was obsessing over all weekend). That's the last I saw of Little H until it was time for R's party. A couple times he rode past on Shamu's bike (we live on a dead end, between the two driveways is totally safe because there are no other houses on our road), but that's it.

Shamu ended up spending the night at our house that night. R spent a little time fixing the neighbor's computer (umm, they need names- I could never think of their names when I first met them, always thought they were Bruce and MaryAnne), so they were over too, and of course their other kid, Hello (2 1/2 year old girl). 3 children and 2 dogs on my hide-a-bed trying to watch a movie, 4 adults in my kitchen huddled around a laptop, and a feeling of chaos overwhelming everything. It was perfect.

Little H and Shamu played all day Saturday, too. I'm so glad that kids can become "best friends" instantly, and that the novelty of a new best friend doesn't wear off that quickly. They never once fought, and Shamu was an angel while he was here (he can be a bit whiny and throw tantrums on occassion with his mom). R even got up and made them pancakes. It was like those old cutesy calendars, with the "perfect" family, the ones that hint about how life was "back in the day." Dad flipping pancakes, two boys with messy hair and mismatched pajamas waiting eagerly, dog trying to sneak under the table to catch scraps. Turning the page you see a little boy riding a bike, stopping at the mailbox, laughing at the cat stalking him as he rides. Next is Mom, Dad, and the boy cuddled on the couch to watch TV, a pair of dogs at their feet, heads resting on laps and begging for attention. That's my life. I can't believe it.

And maybe this time next year we can add a page, one with the big brother listening to Mom's belly, trying to hear his baby brother or sister inside. Wouldn't that be the perfect picture. You never know what's coming next...

Who told people it was my birthday?

Thank you to those who sent me birthday wishes! I'm totally lost on how you all found out (because I didn't post that it was my birthday, not recently at least), but very happy you stopped by to comment.

Not exactly the birthday I had imagined, I have to admit. I was expecting my closest friends to meet me at the bar and just hang out for a few hours. R's uncle didn't show (one of my favorite people in the world, but he did have an acceptable excuse), but the people who did come gave me presents. I really wasn't expecting presents. Yay pretty smelly candle for my house. And my biggest present (from R, of course):
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
(wait for it)
.
.
.
.
.
.


Isn't he adorable? His name is Argos. He wandered into the yard, loved on the neighbor kids, just really needed a home. He's 15lbs underweight, plus the added weight he should have in muscle structure. Probably around 2 years old, very likely pure-bred. Loves our other dog Tiffany, and she's glad to have a constant playmate too.


It's gonna be a full house with Little H here this weekend for visitation (or longer), but I wouldn't have it any other way. Here it comes, that "perfect" family: Mom in an apron baking cookies, Dad coming home from the office with his thermos in hand, Son that acts just like Dad did at that age, Dog (or two) for Son to play catch with, cute little house, heaven. OK, so Mom isn't putting out and Dad is getting a little "frustrated" in that area, but the outward appearance is perfection. We're working on that "behind the scenes" stuff...

Neuro is DONE!!!!

MRI and EEG came back with nothing unusual, so no more restrictions on R. He can drive, he can PT, he can do his job. Yay.

A few updates, then I will be fairly cryptic for a month or two (maybe a little longer, depends on how the first "conflict" goes):
1. I have officially moved back to the house R and I share.
2. CPS has become involved in the welfare of Little H.
3. We are preparing for the possibility of becoming a full-time family, possibly within 2 weeks.
4. We are starting to redecorate the house (no need to be cryptic here)- new rug for the living room, some wall decorations, spray painted the metal on a couple lamps and light fixtures, slightly rearranged some furniture. Hopefully we can save up in the next few months and get a new couch, and by the end of the year a chair or two to finish off the seating. Screw it, I'll elaborate on the redecorating in it's own paragraph, since a lot happened.

The walls looked boring. I wanted any sort of random metal crap, spray painted bronze-ish. We figured Big Lots (since they have cheap crap, which is fine, since I was going to spray paint it anyway). $15 later we have a pair of round metal-y things. Off to Lowes for spray paint. We had a few options, chose some "hammered" metal-looking stuff in "weathered bronze" or "antique bronze" or "old bronze" or something similar. Walked to the end of the aisle, and there we see (across the sea of flooring samples) a beautiful rug hung up, and a giant orange Clearance sign. Original price: 198. Clearance price (because all they had left was the display rug): 37. We got a new rug. It reminds me of those bored pictures I used to do- swirling lines around and overlapping, then coloring each section a different color. Mostly browns, a little green that matches our wall somewhat, and some pale dusty blue. I fucking love it! Then we came home, put down the rug, demolished our table lamps and took down the ceiling lights in the kitchen/dining area (open floor plan, so they are way visible from the living room) and started spray painting.

OK, so the table lamps aren't back together yet (forgot how they went together, plus I don't like the wood color now, it doesn't match with the bronze, so I'm trying to come up with paint or something to cover that, probably another can of spray paint, I'm too lazy to strip and sand and stain the wood), but everything else is up and looking great. Waiting for a financial upswing so we can buy a nice couch and oversized chair, probably in tan microfiber/microsuede. A couple end tables, a new entertainment center (the old one is black, R's preferred color for most of his life), then the ultimate indulgence- new computer desk, probably L shaped, with separate work stations for desktop and laptop, and a pair of fabulous computer chairs to match. I am going to be in living room Heaven.

And that just makes me dream about the other rooms in the house- new dining set, remodeling the laundry/mud room (that'll be a lot of work, mostly serious stuff- rewiring/replumbing to move washer and dryer, new floor, ripping off the knotty pine and putting up drywall, etc), new/bigger bed in our room, the upgrades Little H's room will need as he gets older... The list goes on, and I'm so excited to tackle each piece. I can't wait! Yeah, so my relationship with R still needs some work (it is coming along, time and patience), but I'm completely in love with my house again, head over heels. And soon we'll be sandblasting the old cast-iron fireplace that's sitting out in the garage, and I'll be painting/tiling it to put in the living room (it'll be completely decorative for now, the only fire that would be in it is candles, and I'm working out a filter in the "chimney" piece so we don't even have candle smoke in the house. Yep, in love with my house again. That's gotta be a step forward in falling back in love with my husband, right?

Neuro Visit #1 (and the exhaustion to come)

I won't get into a lot of details, but I LOVE R's Neurologist (hereby named Dr Giggly)! The whole office is bubbly and fun, he gave me candy while he whacked R's knees, and he thinks that whole "seizure" thing is a bunch of bullshit. Tentative diagnosis: complicated migraine with aura. R has samples of a couple things to try to stop the headaches when they start, and if they don't work, Dr Giggly will give him something to take daily to prevent them. And, really, if R only has serious migraines like this once a year or so, I think we're all good. Dr Giggly is still going to do an EEG and MRI just in case, but he's really certain. At least I think that's what he said. He's Italian, a little pudgy, loud and happy, and you have to guess 2/3 of the words he says due to his accent. He offered to tell the military that it was a seizure, if R would split the retirement benefits (R would be medically retired *kicked out* from the military for seizure and begin receiving partial retirement benefits immediately). Dr Giggly had it all planned out, retirement in Venezuela, offered to send us good Venezuelan wine as gifts. He pushed for it, R had to be all upstanding and honest and want the truth. Oh well, I don't think I could deal with retired R anyway.

The rest of the testing is on Friday. Friday is also the day some our best friends (R's former unit) come home from Ir.aq. So, EEG at 7:45am, then the 2-ish hour drive downstate to watch our friends get off that bus and officially be home, hang out for a little while- crying, hugs, etc, then the 2-ish hour drive back for the MRI at 5:15pm, oh, and then we're spending the weekend downstate, so we get to make that 2-ish hour drive again, probably go out with the guys and cry and hug more that night. I'm going to be fucking exhausted, but I can't wait to see Little Debbie, Double Tap, and Cousie-Pooh again. My heart is lighter knowing that they are in the US doing all their debriefings and evaluations already, they made it home from war. Too many of our guys didn't, and the ones that did will never be the same, but for now they are safe, and that makes me happy cry.

Almost forgot- Dr Giggly is not the Wizard, that all got fucked up by military red tape and we had to wiggle around and beg and plead and finally got into Dr Giggly instead of the Wizard (we saw Dr Giggly this Monday, the Wizard means nothing to us now).

We're off to see the Wizard

Tuesday 2pm. That's when R sees the neurologist to figure out what the hell was going wrong last Saturday. Hopefully they'll realize that the shaking hand was 99% likely to have been caused by the wrench that hit him when he was riding his motorcycle a few weeks ago (apparently some guy had a toolbox in the back of his truck, it flew open, lots of tools came flying out, R caught the wrench in his shoulder, which is much better than a screwdriver or saw blade). Which would mean he'd be allowed to drive again and I wouldn't have to be up here all the time. Kind of tired of being a chauffeur and missing everything downstate (like weekly tubing down the Muske.gon River or the big wedding that was today, I really wanted to go to that wedding it would have been so much fun). And the driving 110 miles (one way) almost daily is killing me. I go back downstate tomorrow night after I pick him up from work, I nanny all day on Monday, come back up here Monday night, to the neurologist (65 miles away) on Tuesday, then bring him back here (another 65 miles) and stay in the car because I have to drive back down that night so I can nanny first thing Wednesday morning. I am soooo glad I have to work the rest of the week, I need the vacation from driving back and forth.

Son of a bitch! Almost forgot we're supposed to meet a few people at the NCO club tonight, better get my ass in the bedroom and change (and put on more makeup, I look exhausted). Guess I'll have time to think about anything else I need to update on, because I don't have the time to type more now.

Update on what the Wizard says on Wednesday. Good thing about Oz... real restaurants, the only option here is a dinky townie restaurant or B.ig B.oy. Yay going out for dinner!

More health-related issues for R

Guess who is back up at the house.... Yep, me. R called early yesterday morning to tell me he was going to the ER. He was having some issues with tingling/shaking in his right hand, bad headache on the left side of his head, random/slight tunnel vision, and a bit of lightheadedness. Oh, and he also couldn't talk, as in he would try to say words and they came out and mumbling no matter how hard he tried. Being medically trained, I immediately associate the dysphasia (speech problem) with maybe a minor stroke or blood clot in his brain. Everything else can be tied back to brain injury as well. The doctors didn't focus as much trying to diagnose the dysphasia, they really wanted to explain the shaking in his arm because that was coming and going all day long and the dysphasia resolved itself in 10-15 minutes.

Diagnosis- focal seizure. Oooooh, the dreaded "S" word. Not so scary because it's just in one hand and we're pretty sure we know why (I will get into those details momentarily), but it does prevent him from being allowed to drive at least until his followup with the neurologist, and possibly for 6 months. His job requires driving, so that might be in jeopardy. The military freaks out when they see the "s" word, so that career might be in jeopardy too. We're not going to jump to any conclusions until we get the neurology report, but the future is really up in the air.

So, I am up here (thankfully I have all but 1 day off this week from nannying, and my mom will come up and drive him around that day) driving him around. Waking up at 5:30am so I can drive him to work (ok, he wakes up at 5:30, I sleep until 5 minutes before we have to leave, but I do hear his alarm clock...), driving back to base to bring him lunch so we can eat together, and back on base again to pick him up after work. Plus any driving to the grocery store for whatever we need. It seems so pointless, because he feels fine and even when the episode was at its worst he could still function (speaking isn't his strong suit anyway, so I don't see it as much of a loss) (joking). But, the dr said no driving, so here I am, personal chauffeur.

On to the cause. When R was 17 he got into a car accident, his car basically ping-ponged off the guardrails on both sides of a small country road. His head hit the post next to him. The cop asked if he wanted an ambulance, R was admirably strong and said he was uninjured and didn't need one. The moron cop listened. R walked the mile and a half home, where he promptly loss conciousness and was found 6 hours later and an ambulance was called. CT scan, MRI, EEG. Nothing found, played off as a concussion with no brain injury. 3 months later he randomly passed out at work, that was basically ignored and called an "anxiety attack." Since then, nothing until about 15 months ago when he had the whole speech issue at work one day, but it resolved itself in just a few minutes so R ignored it thinking it was just a tired thing.

CT yesterday didn't show anything, but they are getting all the authorizations required to send him for an MRI and a consult with a neurologist. It is going to be a very long few weeks. I'm supposed to nanny 2 hours away, 10 hour days, there is no way I can drive R back and forth to work and still work myself. It's no career, but I love the baby I watch and with the possibility that R's job might be on the line, we're gonna need all the money we can get. This is going to be rough.

Until yesterday, I really only had the desire to be here on weekends, maybe one or two days during the week if I didn't have to work. Even now, I don't think I'm even close to ready to move back in. But, R needs me and I can't stand to turn my back on that. Yeah, he only needs me for half an hour twice a day, but he does need me. Hopefully he can find another way to and from work soon, because I can't justify quitting my job just to drive him around. And hopefully the neurologist will find something wrong (because that would mean it's fixable and would never cause another problem in the future, which would mean he could keep his job and stay in the military) and we can fix this soon. If only things were easy.

Yay, I can post titles again

Last weekend was R and mine's anniversary. 3 years. Not quite the anniversary we had planned, considering I'm still living somewhere else and he is still lacking adequate knives (they were a wedding gift from a close friend of mine that he barely knows, so logically the knife set belongs to me if we are separated). That and Ha.rry Po.tter was quite the interference. Some may argue that I should have postponed my reading of the book until after our anniversary, but I had no intention of listening to those killjoys. It's fricken Ha.rry Po.tter, no way is that waiting 2 entire days so that I'd have to read during the baby's naptime (I am now a nanny, a very underpaid nanny, but it's a friend and just about the perfect baby so I don't mind). R felt neglected, but coped very well (he chose to rub my feet and calves while I was reading, not sure when he decided that because I was well into the book before I realized he was even in the living room with me).

Still no progress on my tattoo. There are a few factors effecting that, though. One- watching the baby makes tattoos more dangerous, he's 8 months old and starting to pull himself to standing. One of his favorite standing posts is my legs, and tiny fingernails in a fresh tattoo hurt nearly as much as an HSG. Two- my schedule requires me to be awake early in the day, so I'm tired by the time openings in the tattooists schedule come up, it's hard to be awake and willing to endure pain at 10pm when I have to get up early. Three (and probably the biggest issue, because I can deal with the other two)- I can't stand the owner of the shop, so I schedule my appointments when he isn't there, but he has been there almost constantly for weeks. He's not a terrible guy, but he's not into doing favors for anybody so he'd throw a fit if he found out I was paying less than average for my tattoo, and he'd be a dick about me whining, he can be quite intollerant depending on his moods. I'm biding my time, because I really want to get more work done. I crave ink!

R is still going crazy over planning our next IF move. I'm not even ready to move back in here (2-3 day visits are as long as I can tolerate, and only every other week), but he's got plans for where we'll save money and which bank we'll start an IF treatment savings account in and how to get more vacation days saved up for appointments. He's eating right and cutting back on his coffee, getting help to quit smoking, taking vitamins, scheduling SA just because he wants to know where we're at. Every infertile's dream, except I'm not "infertile" right now, for the time being I'm "not ready for kids." Yeah, I'm still infertile, I still have endo and my body still wouldn't get/stay pg if I tried, but I feel way less infertile than I do "not ready." I've told him that, but he needs to make plans apparently.

Being worried about getting pushed into TTC has me even more apprehensive about moving back. Am I ready for wandings and injections? Am I ready to have another lap and HSG before we even start (because if I do it, I want to do it right and get started with the cleanest reproductive organs I can get)? I'm about to turn 25, my aunt with endo had a complete hysterectomy at 31. Am I headed down that road? Do I have time to put off kids, or should I jump right into it just in case? One of R's best friends is getting a hysterectomy next month, she's 26. Is the birth control I've been on for most of my life enough to control it so I don't end up that way? If I don't feel the overwhelming need to be a mother right now, will that make me less of a good parent if I do get pg soon? Will not feeling that need make my body even less hospitable to a baby? Will my baby know that I had doubts about creating him/her and not love me? I know the answers, but that doesn't stop the questions from swirling around in my head.

Damn blogger and the bug that is not allowing me to title my posts.

I know, weird that I'm blogging again just minutes after my last post. But, I checked with st.atcounter and found something I wanted to share. I have been found by Ira.q. Not just found, I mean found in a search. Not just any search- "real naked soldier pics." So, in honor of my nudie g.oog.le fame, here is a shout out to Camp Li.berty in Ira.q. Lots of love to all our servicemembers, come home safe!