I am (temporarily) married to....

......the most insensitive jackass to ever aspire to be a youth pastor. Yesterday we sat down to talk things out, to see if there was any way to work things out and stay together. He asked me for ideas, then decided he didn't care because he can never forgive me for the pictures (which he encouraged until 2 days before I went for the photo shoot, and was beyond excited about afterwards). Then he cried and wanted to know what it would take, then he demanded that I feel guilty for taking the pictures (which I don't, because it was an amazing experience and I really like the end result) or else it was over. And then he went to praise and worship and asked me to pray while he was gone (because God would obviously come down and slap us in the face with an answer).

I did pray, I did search my heart for answers. The answer I found was: free will. God gave it to us (not any of His other creations, just us), it is ours to use and make our lives what we will. (side note: R doesn't see free will that way, as far as he's concerned the only free will we have is to choose God or not, the rest is completely planned out for us) He didn't like my answer, instead he looked up scripture and definitions so he could prove to me that taking the pictures was adultery (because somebody, somewhere, at some point in time, might possibly be aroused by it which makes it adultery, even though the intention was art). I yelled at him, he told me to make a list of who gets what. I made the list, he started crying and begging me to try to work things out with him. Then he decided to try to count how many times the word wife is in the bible, not sure why. Best part: he preached to me about the story of Job and how it's exactly like infertility. If anybody else can find the connection, please tell me what it is, because when I asked him to he just repeated the story of Job over and over again like the connection should be obvious.

Eventually, I screamed at him, in my loudest voice I told him how I pray constantly throughout the day and don't have to be in a church to feel like I have a relationship with God. Somehow that got through his head, we started talking again. I told him that I felt like he had not only put God first in his life, but actually made God the only thing that mattered and kicked me out completely. Epiphany for him, oh yeah, he had been ignoring his wife for 6 months (except for the crappiest sex of her life), never talking to her except to tell her how her life was not Christ-like. So, things felt good. I even slept in our bed with him last night, his arm around me to make me feel better.

This morning comes. A friend from out of town might be coming down this weekend to take me out for lunch one day. His computer is having issues, I tell him that R might be able to help him and that if he can't get it fixed up there to bring it with him when he comes down. I call R at work to tell him and make sure it's OK. R tells me he has doubts, that he didn't get any sleep because he still doesn't know if he wants to stay together. WHAT THE FUCK?!?!?!?! Last night he cried, he begged me to forgive him for ignoring me, he asked me a dozen times if we could just have one more chance, he held me and pet my hair while I cried myself to sleep. And the whole time he had doubts.

I was coping, I was accepting that our marriage was over, I was planning how to start my life over. And he begged me to stay in our marriage because he couldn't live without me. I had to un-cope, I had to un-accept divorce, I had to un-plan my new life. And now I find out he faked the whole thing. He didn't think anything through, he just spit out whatever came to mind and to hell with actually meaning it. I'm sure he meant it while he was saying it, but not deep inside.

I can't bounce back and forth a dozen times a day, I can't devote my energy and emotions to one and then the other, based on his whims. But what do I do until he decides? If I move out, he'll just say that I decided for him so that he doesn't have to admit any sort of reality to himself. If I stay, I'm subjected to his frantic decision swings. Both options suck! I don't know anybody in this wretched town, so it's not like I could stay with a friend for just one night or anything like that. If I go anywhere it's 2 hours away and the only way we could talk would be on the phone.

Why can't he just tell me the fucking truth? Tell me how he really feels instead of hiding behind scripture? Sometimes I think he uses God to not have to face reality. He doesn't have to make any decisions if he can get God to make them for him. He manipulates scripture (or just invents entirely new meaning for it) to fit his desires. He won't say that he doesn't enjoy alcohol anymore, instead he finds one tiny bit of scripture about it and quotes it constantly, like it's his new mantra. And if I have a drink with a friend to celebrate her birthday and the fact that she's even in the state for the first time in 3 months, out comes the scripture again and I get berated about how I went against God. Just fucking tell me that you don't want to drink anymore! Just fucking admit that you ONLY equate drinking with the way you used to drink (read: get drunk and sleep around) and think I'm going to go whore around if I get tipsy. It doesn't matter that it's never happened, he used to be a drunk man-whore and he thinks that's the only thing that can happen when people drink. Oh, you're jealous that somebody else (an artist, a fucking artist, not somebody that is trying to get in my pants, just a fucking artist) will see me naked. How about telling me that you're a jealous prick and don't want me to do something that I really, really, really want to do? Nope, find a way to "prove" that I commited adultery instead.

I'M AN ADULTEROUS WHORE! But, I'm happy with my life and don't need to defend myself to anybody. And I admit it, I say it clearly and don't try to hide behind anything. I have never hidden who I am or pretended to be anything else. I'm quiet and reserved sometimes. Sometimes I'm goofy and eccentric. Every once in a while I'm loud and overly-energetic. But I don't hide myself. I don't sulk in the corner when I'm feeling bouncy, I don't force myself to be the center of attention when I want to chill out by myself. I am always true to myself. I don't hold some book in front of me and justify myself through it. I don't hide from reality by throwing out scripture instead of original thoughts and feelings.

Just wake up from your fucking nap and make a choice! You can decide to put an effort into our marriage and accept me for who I am (the same person I have been for years, I'm not the one that suddenly changed and demanded everybody else to do the same). Or you can decide that honesty and acceptance is too much to handle, that it's harder than hiding behind a bible, and I go. I won't stand by and tolerate both. I won't stay just to be berated and belittled by things you don't even understand, by thoughts and arguements that are not your own. Choose, R, because if you wait much longer I will choose for you. I can't force you to change, but I can choose to not subject myself to your attacks and criticism if that's how you continue. My faith and relationship with God are my own, you have no right to tell me I'm wrong or judge them. If you can't accept that, I go. Decide quick, R, I don't do limbo.

Now that it's morning, what happens next?

So far, nothing else has been figured out. Little H is supposed to come up for his spring break next week, a whole week. His mom offered us the whole week, no fights, no begging by R, none of the usual drama. That's supposed to be celebrated like a miracle, but instead we're trying to figure out how/if. I'd have to be here, R works and we don't have a babysitter or even anybody to watch him if I can't. So, do I stay so Little H can have a week with his dad, a week they have both been wanting for a while? Or do we take that away from Little H and I start moving immediately? His mother finally started accepting me, before she would have never let us have Little H during the week because she didn't want him left with me while R was at work. We finally had some positive progress, and now it's worthless. R was building a real relationship with Little H (which is hard to do in 4 days a month, especially since they didn't have the chance to build any relationship when Little H was a baby), but it took a lot of encouragement from me. A lot of extra effort on my part to make sure Little H got up here for his weekend visitations (which would have been cut short by a day if R had to go pick him up because there wasn't enough time for the long drive down and back after R got out of work), I encouraged playtime and board games instead of just video games, I made sure we all sat down for dinner together and spent that time talking. One of my biggest fears is that R won't be able to build on that relationship without my help, that he won't be able to be a single parent on his weekends and that their relationship will slowly fail.

I'm not worried about moving out, not really. I have a room at my parents' house, they will welcome me home. I will find a job in the town my mom works in, we'll carpool most days. The rest I don't know. What will I do on weekends? Will I go out a night or two a week and hang out with my old friends? Will I start looking for somebody new? And when I do (which will probably be a while), how will that work with all the new criteria I have for a husband- like amazing medical insurance that will cover IVF, desire to have kids soon, and somehow the ability to make me happy I'm not with R anymore. Because eventually I have to be happy that I'm divorced. Eventually I have to not wish things were different and I will have to be glad I'm out of this marriage so that some other relationship will work. If I spend the rest of my life loving R and remembering everything that was good, there is no way I could get past him and even try to find something better.

Divorce is never easy, but it is so much harder when you still love the other person with everything you are, and know that they love you back. I can't change the person I am to stay with R, and he can't change either, neither of us want to and neither want the other to. So, here we are, two people who don't know how to not love each other, completely incompatable, wishing that everything were different.

I might have to change my blog name

Well Blogosphere, things are not so good in the marriage department over here. So not good that I have already told 2 really good friends about my impending divorce. Which was quite difficult to do (not only because it's very sad, but also because it was after midnight, which is a very rare time for any of my really good friends to be online). There is a lot to it, but it basically boils down to R wanting religion to be the main focus of our lives, and I am not willing to change who I am inside to fit into that plan. It's not his fault, religion plays a different part in everybody's life and he has the right to make it his top priority. That's just not where I am right now, and it makes it impossible for us to stay married. It'll be a couple weeks before I can get moved out of here and back with my parents, so I will probably be blogging at least that much longer. I don't know about anything after that. I don't even know how to tell my parents that it's happening.

Going on a not-fishing trip

Spring is popping up around me. The flowers that my mom and grandma helped me plant way back in October are starting to push their way up (if those damn cats would stop using my flower beds as litter boxes it would be much prettier, but it is still a happy sight), my yard is now completely snow-free and quickly drying (which is good, because that inch of water that was covering the back yard made for one muddy puppy), and it was 60 degrees when I woke up at 9:30 this morning. I took advantage of the niceness of the weather yesterday and raked some of my back yard- I raked for an hour, realized I was almost to the area of dog poo (not entirely our fault, you see, the snow came very unexpectedly this winter on the exact day we had planned to clean up the back yard) and decided I was tired. I will finish raking when R is home to participate in the dirty work (it was his job to clean up that poo, he put it off until the day of the fateful snow storm).

Our yard really does look miserable right now- twigs and sticks broken off the trees during those evil wind storms, leaves that didn't get raked in the fall because we were gone so often then and when we were home it seemed to always be raining, the siding missing from the eaves of the garage because of a wretched late-winter wind storm. Spring will take some work to look as pretty as it should, but it will be beautiful. Our first spring in the new house, the house we own, our house. It's a wonderful thought, one I didn't expect for quite a while (seriously, I'm 24, R is 26, who buys a house at that age, especially on one income). I am so proud of R for accomplishing as much as he has and providing for our family so well.

Yes, about that title. I leave tomorrow afternoon for an overnight not-fishing trip. Everybody else will be fishing, but I don't eat fish (it tastes yucky), so I'm going to stand back and watch. And I will also be appearing in the role of beer-bitch (don't think of it as condescending, I find it amusing and plan to be the best beer-bitch ever). R will be working, poor Tiffany pup has to stay home with him. A couple friends from Ohio (they just moved there, dammit, they used to only be 3 hours away and I could visit every couple months) will be there, and they are bringing 2 guys with them.

Kev and Jes (my friends, I met Kev when I worked at boyscout camp, Jes is his wife) are two of my bestest friends in the whole world, I am so glad I get the chance to see them. And the fishing cabin is only a little over an hour from where I live, so it's even better than where they lived before. The list of drink is a long one, much longer than the list of food they are bringing (hmmm, bunch of guys fishing, who would have imagined...). I plan to take full advantage of my beer-bitch role, which includes the mixing of drinks, and make mine extremely weak and everybody else's full strength. That seems rude, but they drink, and I do so only rarely, and I really would like to be functional on Wednesday as that night is Little H's school concert. They will have a very large bottle of the blue-raspberry vodka that haunted my photo shoot, it could be a very long night.

*kid talk, beware*

And once the night of debauchery with friends is over, I will return on Wednesday to shower, hopefully nap, and try desperately to look alive and healthy for the concert at Little H's school (a 2 hour drive to get to). The boy is in kindergarten, so there will likely be two short songs sung by his entire grade and the rest of the hour and a half dominated by the older students. R and I will play the role of proud parent with honor! We even purchased a new digital camera especially for the occassion (ok, R really wanted it for the air show this summer- must blog about that, it's awesome- but we ordered it and are having it shipped super fast so that it will be here before the concert). Our little boy is growing up so fast.

I remember the first time Little H slept over at my house. He was only 20 months old, nervous around strangers, barely knew his daddy (R had been deployed for over a year of H's life already). Roy knew what to do: bath time with any toys I could find (I was grown up, all I had around was a collection of stuffed dragons, luckily I found a couple toy dragons that were waterproof) and bubbles. After that, Little H was my shadow, he'd follow me around the house and mimic everything I did. A few months later, R was deployed again and I wasn't allowed to see Little H even once till R came home. A year changes so much. Little H became a kid and not just a little bitty toddler. He had spunk and attitude (he was also a bit of a sissy, but I loved that too because it meant he came running, crying for hugs and to kiss his booboo a dozen times a day, and I would have hugged and kissed a million times if he let me), he was the poster child for "kids say the darndest things." Too cute for words. And now, in school, learning to read (his kindergarten teacher sends home easy books with only the most advanced students, and he's one of them), writing his name and simple words, just exploding into being a boy (not my baby boy anymore, not even a little boy, he's a BOY). That's amazing to me. And it makes me that much more desperate to have a baby, to be able to live every day with that child growing in front of me, not the randomness of Little H's youngest childhood. For now, I will take what I have, I will be thankful for every moment with Little H, that I am a part of his life and his second mother, even though he couldn't have come from my womb. It is an amazing gift to be allowed to participate in the life of a child, to observe and influence. I thank R every day that he loved me enough to ask me to be not only his wife, but also a mother to his son.

See you all on Thursday (unless the camping trip gets extended, which it might, in which case I might just go back on Thursday for another night and therefore see you all on Friday instead)!

They have arrived

I'm not sure if I've taken a single breath since the mail came at 2:45pm today (the normal time, a little bit early, actually). I looked them over quickly, then ripped the disc out of my computer and hid it in a closet. I'm don't know why, I just had to. Hours later I have taken a second and third look, studied them closely, and have decided that I don't hate them. In fact, there are a dozen or so that I really like (there are 44 total pictures). Only a couple of which I feel comfortable posting on here (who would have thought so many of my nude photographs would contain a nipple shot, or more). Anyway, here is my blogger nude debut:

here's that really cool spider from Venice (those legs were pointy, very hard to stay still)

and the only other acceptable photo to post (plus, I think it looks good)

This week!!!

Just talked to NotPorn, he is burning my DVD as I type. He said there are 45-50 pictures on it. Holy crap! And he rattled off a few ideas for the next shoot (including waxing, ouch). OMG, I'm going to have my pictures in a few days. I will do my best to learn how this whole posting photos works and put up one or two next week (I have to go through them all and only pick the very best ones to share). I promise, nothing graphic or including body parts that would get me arrested for indecent exposure.

Dr. Seu.ss took my nudie pics

Another crazy dream post. I try to think of IF-related topics, but magically I am actually handling this break so well that I have started to think of things other than babies. I'm not so sure I like that, but it does piss off R a bit less this way. Although, he's so distracted by all the graphics work he's doing for the air show that we couldn't make a baby right now even if my body worked properly. I'm rarely able to stay awake long enough for us to even go to bed at the same time. He tells me every night that he wants to "go to bed early," oooh what a turn on that is. I finally told him that his stupid comment is not foreplay and that he'd better learn what is if he ever wants to do something other than sleep in our bed.

*****skip next 2 paragraphs if you don't want to hear about my sex life*****

He greatly took advantage of TTC, let me tell you. Because I would have sex during O time no matter what. So tired I sleep through it? Sure, R, have fun. Back spasms from my firefighting injury? Stick a pillow there and pretend it's a new position. So dry down there it's dusty? Squirt in some fake moisture and let's get going. 2 1/2 years with the guarantee of sex every other day for a week (sometimes 2 just to make sure we got the day right) really made R lazy. As far as he's concerned, the goal is still to make sure he gets some sperm in there. Wifey's enjoyment is not the top of his priority list, most of the time it's not on R's list at all.

It was not always this way. We used to spend hours every night doing all the stuff that feels good. Sex lasted so long, I always had multiples and we'd exhaust ourselves before falling asleep. Now, I rush myself to get one before he's spent. There's no foreplay, no kissing, no touching, nothing. He says he doesn't know where/how to touch me, but for the first 4 years of our relationship he knew it all by instict. He could make my knees shake with a tiny kiss in just the right spot. He forgot all of it when he was deployed before the wedding, and he's never made any attempt to remember. He used to be the best lover I'd ever had, but the man he is now ranks pretty close to the bottom. How do you tell a guy that without bruising his ego and making his nuts shrivel up into raisins at the shame?

*****ok, now I'll talk about the title*****

Another crazy dream last night. This time it focused on that infamous photo shoot. You all know the one, I've been babbling about it for weeks (a majority of that time freaking out about when I'll get my pics and see how it all turned out). Anyway, in my dream I finally got a book of photos. -cue bouncy child-like background music and singing/dancing Seu.ss creatures- Yep, there were actual singing and dancing creatures all around me, to go with the illustrated (and narrated -cue voice-over narrator-) book of nude photos. I only got about halfway through it, I was in shock. -Blink- And now I'm awakening (still in my dream) and slightly freaking out that R may have watched the video while I was asleep (video? oh, yeah, because in this part of the dream it's a video instead, -die bouncy music-). I put it in the VCR (hmmm, technology has not caught up with this dream, or maybe it's also about our horrible luck with DVD players, which always die within 3 months) and push play. There's some dorky stuff, NotPorn and I sitting around talking, some really crappy ghetto dancing (on my part mostly), etc. And then that dream pretty much ended. So I still haven't seen my pics, not even in my dreams.

I'm sure none of you will believe me, but I hadn't had vivid dreams like this in quite a while, almost no dreams that I remembered for almost a year and none this vivid since way before then. Basically since about 6 months into TTC. The dreams started off just being vivid, then progressed in intensity until I was getting so little rest at night that I could barely stay awake 3-4 hours at a time without a nap (it is hard napping 4 times a day, really cuts out a lot of stuff you could do). It all ended when I finally talked to Elvis and got some nice pills. I was TTC, so most sleeping meds were not allowed (and the problem wasn't sleeping, it was the intensity of my brain while I was trying to sleep), so we settled and compromised and decided on diaz.epam (that's Va.lium for those not "in the know"). I took it nightly for a week, then only on days I felt unsettled and unable to relax before bed (because those would be the nights the dreams were the worst). Within a month, I was only taking my pills 2-3 times a month, then I wasn't taking them at all anymore. It just took a couple weeks of decent sleep to get my brain back on track and let my life get back to normal. I'm starting to get more and more tired during the day, so I think it's about time for a booster of meds before I get as bad as I was before. Then maybe I'll be able to think better and make this an IF blog like it was intended.

I love statco.unter

So, I have been using statc.ounter since the beginning, because I am the curious type. For quite a while I got little joy (well, my readership is quite low, so why expect dramatic stats), but today I checked and got a small giggle. Apparently, a goo.gle search for the keywords "back of my knee" directs you to my blog. To one of the posts about my nude photo shoot. Nothing dirty or unsuitable for reading, but not what one would expect. The origin of the search: University College Of Stockton-on-tees (goo.gling by me confirms that it is basically a satellite campus of Durham University, in the UK). Not an international incident by any means, but I am easily amused and therefore felt the need to tell everybody about it. Aren't I adorable.

Drunken sorority girls

That's what I missed this weekend. I hadn't mentioned in my previous post that it was Greek Formal weekend, and that I was giving up my greek weekend to spend with Little H. Of course I love my boy, he is second only to R in my life (tied with the dog, but if you really knew my dog you'd understand). But it's been a year since I was back in my old college town (Formal last year, R wore his dress blues), and I miss the girls. I was supposed to go back in October for the huge fund raiser (Teeter Totter and Formal are the reasons alum go back, they are the best sisterhood bonding experiences), but we had just moved into the new house and there was so much that still needed to be done (I think we painted the living room that weekend and rearranged the kitchen- what moron puts the fridge next to the oven?).

So, although I loved the time I spent with Little H, I'm really bummed that I missed the weekend with my sorority. We share our formal with our brother fraternity and it's so much fun. We eat dinner separately (usually some sort of divided banquet hall), do the awards ceremony, then take down the divider and party all night together. Last year I got to hang out with my little sister (in the sorority sense), half of my pledge class, my favorite sisters, and the fraternity boy I used to date (hadn't seen him since graduation, we dated my freshman year, we were casual friends after that and have become good friends in the past year). I still don't know what I missed this year, but I'm sad that I missed it. I have a fabulous dress and sparkly shoes and fantastic jewelry that were just waiting to be worn, but I guess they will all have to wait for next year. I was going to look amazing, dammit! Maybe I'll.... nevermind, I'm too lazy to decorate the house and cook a nice dinner and dress up just for R, and he wouldn't appreciate the effort enough to make me feel like it was worth it anyway.

*****cute story about kids ahead*****

Beaver was not visiting over the weekend like I had previously thought he would be. Just another of those parents trading visitation weekends things that is so common anymore. But, Baby B was there. His mom wanted to go out of state for the weekend to visit her dad and stepmom but didn't want to take both children (she has a little girl, 18 months-ish), so my parents got a weekend with Baby B. Little H gets along much better with Baby B than he does Beaver, because he has so much more in common with Baby B. Yeah, Baby B is 18 months younger than Little H (Beaver is only 6 months younger than Little H), but they have such similar attitudes and preferences. They are both relaxed and kinda quiet, comfortable reading books or sitting down to watch an entire movie. Beaver yells and runs and jumps constantly, he can't settle down to read 3 pages of a book and he has never seen more than 10 straight minutes of any movie.

Anyway, Saturday all the men went down to the gravel pit to shoot skeet. 6 rifles/shotguns, 3 handguns of some sort, 2 boxes of clay pigeons, a dozen boxes of ammunition, scorecards, skeet throwers (both a hand thrower thing and some sort of ground mounted, spring-action kind of thing), and 5 hours. Sometime late in hour 3 I took both kids down to watch. Early in hour 4 I could barely move from cold. Shortly thereafter I convinced the men to let the kids have a shot (with R holding the rifle and the kids merely giving the command to throw the skeet and pulling the trigger). The boys took 2 shots each (neither coming anywhere near hitting the flying clay disk), then we went home to let the men finish up. The boys were absolutely giddy about their shooting skills, told everybody they saw all about it. Time to break out the pellet gun and teach them respect and rules when it comes to guns.

I know some people don't agree with that at all, but that's how I was raised (R too). And we do have guns in our house, so Little H needs to know the rules in case he ever accidentally finds one (here or at a friends' house, you never know which families have guns). When I was little, at any given time I could have told you where to find at least a dozen guns and their ammunition. But I never once touched a gun or bullet without adult supervision. I knew the rules, I respected what guns could do, my curiosity was replaced with knowledge and guidelines. Now there are trigger locks and ammunition safes and all of that, but knowledge is safer than all of those things combined (although we do also use a trigger lock on the rifle and a locked case for the handgun, and the ammunition is stored in another area of the house- you can never be too safe).

And my lighthearted post has suddenly turned controversial. Please, I don't want to hear warnings about guns, I don't want to hear rants or raves about gun control, I definitely don't want flames for allowing my stepson and nephew to touch a gun. Nothing you say would change my beliefs or opinions, so please don't try. I just had to write about something and my nudie pics aren't here yet (and I don't know exactly when to expect them) so I had to come up with something. :)

Two weekends in a row! (children mentioned)

I know, I know, I said that Little H would hardly be mentioned on here, but here I go with a whole post that will likely revolve entirely around him.

Before I get into that, how about another dream? I don't remember much, just a huge examining room, me in one of those cute little butt-baring hospital gowns, big metal table (with about 50 layers of that paint they use on them, bright white), some stirrups, and a conversation. There was a dr, but he's rather unimportant in comparison to the conversation. The conversation was a bit argumentative, a little manipulative, and maybe a slight guilt trip. I wanted the guy with me to hold my hand. Many reasons: 1. he was standing down past the stirrups, and that didn't feel right, guys don't need to see us in that position, EVER. 2. I was nervous and wanted somebody to hold my hand. 3. if I was pg, then he was the father dammit, and he owed me. Hmmm, the guy was very much not R. I'm not really sure who he was, when he was past the stirrups I had a huge operating room light shining and couldn't see him and when he came up to hold my hand he was in some serious shadow (how blinding light and impenetrable shadow are in the same room I don't know, just go with it). Very weird. There was nothing else, just the surroundings and the conversation. Whatever test I was having must have been performed after I awoke, and the dr was mute.

And now, on to Little H. He came up for a day last weekend, amid all the furniture moving and other general busyness. Well, his mom wants to trade this weekend for next, which means we get to see the little man 2 weekends in a row. It works out great, because R is taking Friday off (he needs a day off, this week has kicked his butt and next week will be even worse) so he'll be well-rested and relaxed when we go down to see Little H on Saturday. There is an important family funeral on Friday that Little H needs to make an appearance at, but R's aunt is willing to take him for us so we don't have to drive down a day early (not that important if we can skip it without hesitation, but one that Little H should make an appearance at to see relatives that aren't often around). We'll probably end up going to a movie or bowling (one of Little H's favorites) or renting some video games to play at my parents' house. Who knows, but it'll be fun and I'll get to see my little boy again.

Adding to the energy level of the weekend, one nephew will be at my parents' house (because my brother lives with them) this weekend, too. This nephew (we'll call him Beaver) is 6 months younger than Little H and turns 5 in May (the other nephew- Baby B- is a year younger than Beaver, just for reference), with 10X the energy. Beaver can run and yell and spin in circles and jump off stairs and climb the toy shelves and carry around a dozen books and throw a ball for the dog all at the same time. I get exhausted watching that boy sleep, because I know once he's awake he'll be on the move again. It's like police surveilance, we post family members throughout the house to kind of keep track of him as he moves. When you get any other child within 100 yards of Beaver, he goes into overdrive. Hugging and trying to carry around (he picks up my brother's 95lb girlfriend, he's fricken 4 years old, that's massive) and inventing games and whatever other interactions two little boys have, all in the first 5 seconds of the second child's arrival. It's crazy. I'm going to need diazep.am to come down from the day (crap, I've been out for over a year, stupid me wanting to "deal with my emotions myself." Rely on drugs, you moron, it works), maybe just a nice long shower and a foot rub from R. All that running will make my feet ache. R is the designated X-b.ox operator and ruler supreme, which leaves me to fetch and read and cook and tend booboos and attempt to maintain some level of control (or at least tolerable volume level). We shall bring the Nin.ja Turt.les game we bought Little H for Christmas, that will teach R to try to electronically parent. Both will be jumping and kicking in time with the characters on the screen and I will have time for a leisurely walk to visit Papa and Grandma and see what new quilt Grandma is working on and what random item Papa bought because it was really cheap. That man can get a good deal on anything (my dining room table and 4 chairs: yard sale originally marked $20, Papa got it all for $4).

New development: we will be returning Little H to his biomom instead of using R's aunt as a go-between. This is a very rare occurance indeed (has only happened once in the past year, before that it hadn't been since before our wedding- that was a fun drop-off, lots o' drama), but she has seemed to mature in the past couple years. I guess popping out bastard child #3 and #4 will do that to trailer trash (I would never say anything bad about Little H's mom in front of him, but behind his back I can say whatever I want, and all her kids are totally innocent, they didn't choose the circumstances of their birth, I feel terrible for all of them, they have a hard life ahead, made even harder because of what they have for a mom, and we are always beyond civil around her, we want to get/stay on her good side and if that means sucking up that's what we do). This is going to be one interesting weekend.

Another whole week?!

It seems as though my readers are getting just as anxious as I am about my photos. OK, there is no way any of you could be as anxious as I am, but I have been getting comments about them. Here's the update: The photographer (hmmm, he needs a name, how about NotPorn) is still working on touching them up just a bit and going through to find the best ones. I talked to him last night, and he promised to get my disc in the mail by the end of the week. I thought he had sent them sometime last week, but he does have a real job and that takes priority. And I will be showing them to R. He's not getting the disc, but I will let him view them on my laptop. It's a compromise and allows me some feeling of control (and a tiny bit of revenge, but only a tiny bit). NotPorn said he was very happy with the results. He says I photograph very well under harsh lighting (remember, he is artsy, he likes that kind of stuff) and won't stop talking about me coming down for another shoot. He's come up with a whole bunch of ideas for location and lighting, probably an all-day shoot instead of just the evening we did last time.

I am more nervous to see the pictures he's already done than I am to do a second shoot, more nervous than I was even at the very beginning of the first shoot. Weird how I can be so comfortable walking around naked, but not about seeing what I look like later. I think it has something to do with his vision, his idea, his fantasy of the perfect female body. I mean, he had it all worked out in his head, how I should sit/lay, where the lighting and shadows should fall. I put myself into his dream world and I don't know if I lived up to his or my expectations (or if his dream world is something I will find flattering). I know I lived up to his expectations or else he wouldn't be happy with the photos and he wouldn't be asking me to pose again, but I don't know if I can see myself as the art he sees. Women are so self-concious. If I was a guy, I'd have been swinging my dick around, happy to let it free and happy with my body. But I'm a girl, so I can't stop wondering if I missed a spot on the back of my knee when I shaved or if my hair looked stupid or if that chip in my nailpolish (that I got less than an hour before the shoot and didn't have the polish with me to fix) is visible. I'm so detail-oriented (read: anal about even minute details) that I know I won't be happy until I see my pictures.

Giving up control is so hard. You'd think I would have figured out how by now. Several doctors and nurses, surgeon, labs, insurance company- they all have control over my fertility, I had no choice but to hand it over to them and hope for the best. But even in those situations, I did have a measure of control. It was my choice to do lap, it was my choice to demand blood tests by my new gyn (moved even before the lap with old gyn, so I wasn't making the 3 hour drive to give up a couple vials of blood), it was my choice to go back on birth control for a while until R and I are ready to pay out our asses for the next step. I've never given up control like this. Some guy I barely know is sitting in front of his brand new laptop deciding which nude pictures of me are worth sharing and which ones suck too much to even send to me. A bad drivers license photo I can keep to myself unless absolutely necessary, but some guy is downstate judging nude photographs of me. It's almost too much to handle, I don't even want to think about it.

And now an old friend (ok, not so old since I only graduated college 4 1/2 years ago and we actually hung out quite a bit for the first year after college- we went to different schools, but he went to the one in my old hometown and graduated a year after me- go super senior, I think it took him 6 years to get his degree) and I have been talking and I told him about it. He moved to Cali and started his own photography studio (headshots for "actresses" and such) a few years ago, but is back in Michi.gan. So, the happy photographer (we'll call this one Pike) starts rattling off his own ideas for me. Something about outside at night (which requires a full-moon and no clouds) and a few other things. Seems like my naked body is in high demand these days. I haven't said anything to R about Pike, mostly because I don't know what I think about it. Stripping down and posing for a guy I know only as a photographer is one thing, but I've known Pike for quite a while and that makes it feel different. It gives it the possibility of being awkward. And a girl can only juggle so many photographers without getting overwhelmed.

Any insight, readers? Should I stay faithful to NotPorn, or see what Pike has to offer on the side? It could be interesting to see myself in two different sets of eyes, it could be even more nerve-wracking.

I want to see me naked

Is it really so much to ask that my disc of photos finally show up? It was put in the mailbox sometime mid-week (Tuesday or Wednesday of last week), so it should have made it circuit of distribution and routing centers and made its way to my mailbox by now. I'm only freaking out a little bit. I mean, 4-5 hours of shooting, wearing nothing more than a robe and very seldom that (we moved to several different rooms of the house, past a couple windows and everything), and now the guy has all of it and may have even shown them off and I have no clue what they look like. I was drunk when I put my makeup on, what if my eyeliner is all runny? Or what if I had a pimple on my butt or something? I can't freak out and make him destroy the worst pictures if I don't even know which ones are bad. He displays his favorite pictures, what if I'm on display in his house already and don't even know what photo it is? I am so close to ditching R for the night (he has bible study anyway, so he'd barely miss me except for dinner, and there's leftover pizza so he might not even realize I'm gone) and driving 3 1/2 hours each way to get my pictures NOW! Somebody talk me down off this ledge, I'm going crazy!

I feel like I have to

It's been a couple days since my last post, so I feel this need to blog. Nothing important going on, still haven't gotten my photo disc (and I've been stalking the mailbox, I spy at the mail lady every day when she puts the mail in, just to see if anything looks like it could hold a CD). Busy weekend up here, though. We went downstate on Saturday to spend the day with Little H and pick up some dressers from R's grandma. They are the dressers that go with the bed that her and her husband bought not long after they got married, the first thing they ever bought together. R's aunt has the matching bed, we kind of wish we had gotten that, too, because our bed is only full sized and that one is queen.

We ended up visiting my parents, my grandparents, and then the trip to R's grandma. Little H begged to come back up with us, so we indulged him. We took him to the youth center that R is involved with. Little H and R played pool (Little H doesn't use the stick, he's only 5), Little H won, of course. And then bright and early (well, it felt really early because of the time change) Sunday morning we had french toast and eggs and bacon for breakfast before I had to drive Little H back downstate (R had important plans, which later were cancelled- beyond his control. He cleaned the house instead).

But, the new dressers are in the bedroom and filled with clothes. A vast improvement over my clothes being in cupboards in the hallway (very cute little built-in cupboards, but my socks and underwear were all in little plastic bins stacked up to save space). Our old "dresser" (an entertainment center-type thing with drawers under it, very similar to ones you would see in a hotel actually) is now in Little H's room. He didn't need it for his clothes, but now we can move the X-bo.x to that TV and have a nearly empty entertainment center in the living room. The DVD player is broken (unknown issue, sometimes it stalls and skips constantly, sometimes it'll work for 20 minutes straight), so it will be a rather empty TV stand out here, but I can live with that since we cancelled cable and NEVER watch TV anyway. It's just something to aim the couch at.

And the dog no longer sleeps in her kennel. We've been slowly trying her out with letting her sleep in their (her's and Little H's) bedroom outside of the kennel and she's done great. We let her run free in there if we're gone less than 2 hours, and free roam of the entire house if we'll be back within 30 minutes. OMG, my puppy is turning into a dog and not destroying my house! It seems like a small accomplishment, but it's big to us. And it'll free up a lot of space in the bedroom to take the kennel out. For the child only being up here a few days a month, he's got more toys that I had in my entire childhood combined: Lin.coln Lo.gs, racetracks for his toy cars, wooden train set, Le.gos, Pla.ydough, Ere.ctor Set, Le.ap Pad, Gam.eboy, video games for the computer (he has his own, plus our super desktop) and X-bo.x, Arm.y men, toy helicopter, more stuff than I can even remember. (ooops, that was all sorts of random, this paragraph was about my dog...)

The snow is melting, which means it will soon be a slimy mess in my back yard. The dog sprints and turns and all of that, and all of that rips out the grass quite a bit, leaving a whole lot of dirt. I'll be mopping the kitchen daily pretty soon, but I don't care because mopping means it's spring. And once everything dries out a bit, the neighbor's dog can come over and play and both will sleep well every night. Everything is going to feel so much better soon. Life is just more enjoyable when you can open your windows without shivering.

We already chose names

...or....
I wouldn't name my baby boy Dave.

Maybe we need to start up a twins name list, because last night the universe felt like it needed to tell me something. Waking up hurts the deepest parts of you when you dream about the child/children you may never have.

Apparently my subconcious likes screwing with the rest of my brain. So, sometime between 2 and 4 am, I delivered twins. Baby A: boy, 5 lbs, we named him Dave. Baby B: girl, 4-ish lbs, can't remember her name but I think it was Dana. BTW: in my dream I had to invent the weights myself, but the dream got to choose names that were not on our list. Full term, natural vaginal delivery. And like every good mother, I don't remember anything about labor. Not easy knowing you are dreaming and having to pull weights out of your butt for the twins you know damn well you did not just deliver. The girl was much smaller, but those are respectable weights considering I'm 5'4" and 104lbs pre-pg (and I did use that exact logic while I was dreaming).

The dream focused on the weirdest of details. I would think (when awake) that I would stare and touch every spot on my babies, I would memorize their hands and feet and not be able to stop stroking their head or back while I held them. Nope, not in that dream. In my dream, I spent a lot of time in front of a full-length mirror (which my parents do not have in their house) checking out my pp belly. At least that part was realistic- it was big, very squishy, I'm pretty sure it was a rather realistic interpretation of my body with a 24hr pp belly (I've seen a few on other people, so I guess that's what it would likely look like in me). Of course, the rest of the dream was off.

* they would not send twins home at 12 hrs old, especially with one barely weighing 4lbs (she looked so tiny, one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen)
* we went to my parents' house, and that's 2 hours from where we live
* R was nowhere in my dream
* my parents' house was spotless, and that absolutely never happens, ever
* I decided to walk to Goofball's house (which, even in reality, is only 1/4 mile down the road from my parents), the day after delivering twins, and I only took the boy. No way I would leave my newborn girl the day after she was born (left her with my dad, who was absolutely in love with her, but still, I wouldn't let my babies out of my sight) and I don't think walking any distance would be part of my plan 12 hrs pp
* I don't remember Goofball holding the baby, but I remember calling it Goofball's house and not Papa (my grandfather, the most amazing man I know)'s house, and my grandparents moved in there almost 10 years ago when they built the addition and sold their house to my parents (hence the 1/4 mile distance inbetween). I haven't called it Goofball's house (not out loud) since he died, I have to call it Papa's house so I don't cry.

And that's what I really remember. There was somebody at my other uncle's house (which is located between my parents and grandparents), but I don't remember anything about that other than vague remembrance of talking to them. It was a very skinny person, and neither my uncle nor his son is that, but I don't remember who it was. In the dream neither baby cried, I didn't feed them, I didn't change a diaper, I didn't even see the carseats we must have used to bring them home from the hospital. Come to think of it, I didn't see any baby stuff at all, no crib, no diapers, no swing. Great, now the dream got even weirder when I think about it. But my babies were perfect, so tiny and soft, and I could see absolute devotion in the eyes of everybody who held them. A pure love that can only come from grandparents and great-grandparents. It was beautiful. 2008 cannot come fast enough. Time to write my congressman and see how that bill to add infertility coverage to federal/military insurance is coming along.

Nooner

Sometimes, a day happens that makes you eat your words. Just 5 days ago I was sure my marriage was in trouble, I just knew we couldn't survive the fight we had. And then today R comes home for lunch (with Mt. Dew for me because there was none in the house and I am seriously addicted) and I couldn't keep my hands off him. It wasn't a horny thing, because AF is fixing to arrive this afternoon and she ruins any sort of sex drive. It was a "I love my husband and I would do anything to be close to him RIGHT NOW" thing. I haven't felt that in at least 3 months (hmmm, that length of time coincides with us making our TTC break official).

He's back at work now, but as I sip my uber-caffeinated sugar drink I can't help but feel like I would die without him. How could those problems get so big that it would risk our marriage? For 5 days I figured I'd just go through the motions until we both just broke down and admitted our marriage was unfixable. And today I've changed my mind. He is the one I want to be with forever, and I've always known that. We have to get through this rough patch, because I can't imagine kissing somebody else feeling that perfect- the world melting away and my whole body flooding with pure happiness and comfort.

OK, so I'd trade sexual favors for Mt. Dew any day, but today wasn't about the Mt. Dew. Today feels better. The black hole is 100% behind me and I feel like myself and I'm happy. I still hate our town, I still want a baby more than anything, I still wish some things were different. But I'm happy and I can enjoy today. The sun is peeking out for a few minutes before the massive snowfall we expect tonight, the icicles are glittering in its rays, and just seeing it through my insulated windows makes me feel warmer. Today is good, and I don't ever want it to change.

It's not porn, it's art (*edited*)

So, I did my photo shoot Friday night. It took me well over 4 hours to make the 3 hour drive across the state (oh the snow and blowing wind, and morons in front of me). I did impress myself, though. Those who know me understand my complete lack of direction, that I can't find anywhere without lots and lots of landmark instructions (I can't turn North, I have to turn left at the big stone house with the lime green doghouse out back). Anyway, I was driving along and all of a sudden everybody was parked, semi's were using their "I'm gonna be sitting here forever" brakes and everything. So, I wiggled my way down the offramp and found myself in a town I had never taken the time to notice existed. I zoomed off one way, turned at a random stoplight, followed a curve here and there, and magically found my way back to the expressway. And I did it all by myself without having a panic attack or anything. (Oh, and the spot I returned to the expressway at was less than 1/4 mile ahead of the accident that had apparently stopped all forward motion of traffic and would have left me stuck at the back of the line for a half hour at least if I hadn't skirted it with my supreme driving skills)

Yeah, back to the photos. Finally got there at nearly 5pm. These things take some preparation, as most clothing leaves marks on your body, especially after 4 hours in the car. I changed into pajama pants and a loose t-shirt, commando and braless. We had a drink to relax the atmosphere (I was about to get naked and let somebody take pictures of me like that, the drink was necessary) while we waited. I know, you must be curious- how did she do amateur night at a strip club if she can't handle one guy seeing her goods? The answer- no pictures at the strip club, it was live only, nothing to be taken home and framed. I might be in a frame, part of a portfolio, on his i-p.od at least. That did not happen before. And this was way more personal: posing, following instructions, trying to recreate his ideas in real life, and one-on-one. On the stage, I was in charge, I had all the power and control, I was giving the instructions not getting them. Friday night, I was just the model, the form, some curves. He adjusted lights, had me change angles, manipulated shadows. I was a prop, he had all the control, and he had clothes on. I did have some control, if anything was uncomfortable for me I could have said no and it would have been fine. But the whole thing was me giving him the control to make my body into his art.

We started out with him making a political statement. After a thorough lesson in gun safety- including no less than 6 checks to be sure none of the weapons were loaded and no ammunition was anywhere nearby- I was handcuffed (fakes with a safety release), blindfolded, and gagged with an American flag. Then there were a dozen test shots to adjust angles and lighting and zoom, and the final photos included simulated prayer with the gun aimed at me. Wow, it was definitely out of the ordinary. Whether I agree with the intended statement of the photo doesn't matter, it was the ability to participate in such a statement. A bit nerve-wracking, even though I knew the gun was empty I couldn't look at it when it was aimed at me (there were quite a few test shots before we included all the props for the actual photo), I made sure the blindfold was on and my eyes were closed any time he was holding it. Maybe it was partly because R has the same type gun, and I've seen the targets he's shot with it. I knew it was faked, but it felt almost too real for comfort the one time I got a glimpse up the barrel. Drink #2 came and went fast during the set-up and shooting of this photo, but can you blame me?

Next, things got a lot more relaxed. Lounging around, not even paying attention to the camera. He takes pictures of bodies, very few face shots, so I basically got to relax while he took pictures of the small of my back and the curve of my thigh and just the edge of a nipple. Some was on a white base with black background, some was on a huge oak table with a deep blue background. On the table he used publisher's lights for most of the lighting (those cute desk lamps with the green shades), and he had big stand lights and spotlights and fabric-ish reflector things.

And the spider. He bought a very delicate lime green and black glass spider in Venice a few years ago. He'd been wanting to use it as a prop for a while and decided I was perfect for the ideas he'd had. I'm really hoping some of the pictures with it show nothing too risque so I can post one to show you all. I hate spiders, but it was beautiful. Long tapered legs, metallic flecks in the glass of the body, fangs (ok, those were not my favorite part), a piece of art balanced on my body. The legs were kind of poky, it tickled/hurt when he sat it on me, I had to stay extra still so I didn't risk it falling off and breaking. It was a tedious bit of shooting, but I think I will love the end product. The hangover was definitely worth it, but I think if we do another shoot I'll lay off the drinking for the most part. It's hard to twist and arch and keep your arms out of the shot when you've had even 1/2 of what I drank.

I had to leave town a day earlier than expected (he had a family emergency and I didn't have any other reason to stay), so instead of getting a CD of pics at the end of the weekend I have to wait for it to be sent in the mail. I'll be stalking the mailbox all week. Well, maybe not till Wednesday. The earliest he could put it in at his end is today, and it takes at least 3 days for anything to get here, so it likely won't be here till Friday at the soonest, but that won't stop me from watching the mail lady come by until then. I'm excited and nervous at the same time. I want to see my photos, but I'm also scared for anybody to see them. My brain knows how contradictory it is, because I can't wait to show off the pics (to a very select few people, but still showing off), but another part of me wants to hide them before even I see them.

Quick poll: should I let R see the pics? He chastized me for wanting to do the shoot, he quoted scripture and admonished me for premeditated sinning, he made it very clear that he considered it a sin, art or not, he tried to forbid me (yeah, like that would go over well). So, should he benefit from my sin? Should he have the opportunity to feel proud of his wife for being a bit of art? Should he be allowed to get aroused by the curves he forbid from being uncovered? He didn't want it to happen, he was very vocal against it, but now he thinks he should see every photo. I told him that he will not benefit from my sin, it would be as bad as comitting that sin himself. He thinks it's ok, that there is a level of degree in sinning, and that this isn't bad enough to upset God. For being so "fired up about God" R sure doesn't stick to the Word when it doesn't suit his ends.

*oh, and if anybody can very much dumb down the necessary instructions for adding photos on here- like the profile pic that everybody has, or the random AWing pics that people post and I'm too dumb to figure out- I would really appreciate it. And I do mean dumb down the instructions, all the way down to sub-moronic, how-does-she-make-her-own-toast-she's-so-stupid level. Thanks*

Escape is on the horizon

OK, not that kind of escape, nothing huge like divorce. Right now I'm just going away for the weekend, something I've had planned for a while already and not the result of recent events. My little nephew is with my parents (little brother BR is there, too, but the nephew is what counts), so I'm dying to see him. And tomorrow I trek sideways across the state for that photo shoot I mentioned, and a trip to see a good friends' new puppy (not so new, he's had him since before Christmas, I just haven't seen the little moster boy yet so he's new to me). I had originally thought of this trip as catching up with some people I love and miss, and it's still that, but it is a bit of an escape, too. A distraction from "the conversation."

Last night was good, though. We took a long shower, washed each others' back, the whole deal. Then R was nice enough to lotion all of me (usually I get everything but my back and he barely whines), his idea and everything. We just talked like we used to, not about baby stuff, not about Little H (always a fight, there is so much drama there you couldn't follow it if you tried, so I'll spare the details), not about God, not about anything. We need a lot more time like that. Maybe if that becomes routine, maybe if we can lock out everything else and just be together, maybe we have a chance. Nobody cheated, nobody hit, nobody called names. We were seriously considering a divorce because we disagree about God and when to have a baby. And it's still on the table if he can't guarantee me we'll have kids someday, no matter the cost or treatment. But that seems unimportant at this exact second, after we had such a good night. One day at a time...