"Two kids make one feel like none."

I just got back in touch with a co-worker from when I lived in Los Angeles. Last time I saw her, I wasn't married and neither of us had kids. Now she has two. We started talking about motherhood in general and she concluded with that statement. Considering how hard one has been for me? It made me shudder and has haunted me ever since. Whenever I'm playing with Sascha or she's being easy, the words "...make one feel like none..." echo in my head.

Nick and I had a nice talk about it yesterday. I told him that I'm still 50/50 right on the fence, but lately I've been feeling the pull even harder on both sides. Wanting a baby more than ever. Wanting to stick to one child more than ever. I concluded that it's a good thing that I am on the fence, that way I won't be devastated if I never get pregnant. We're going to let the chips fall where they may (um, except with birth control through the winter). I decided that I'll give this two more years. 2011 will be the year I turn 40. If it doesn't happen by then, I'm selling all the baby stuff and calling it a day. Dusting my hands, making peace with the nice little family I have. I know, lots of women have kids after 40, but people have climbed Everest too and I'm not going to do something just 'cause I can. (Or can I? Christ, we've been trying a long time.)

I did see that amazing midwife a couple weeks ago. She gave me the number of a fertility specialist that she loves, and who helped her get pregnant. I don't know why, and I'm going to get lots of shit for this, but I can't bring myself to make the call. Maybe I'm lazy and don't want to drive a half hour for a string of doctor's appointments? Maybe I'm afraid of what he'll tell me? Maybe both? I think I've had enough experiences where I've gone to the doctor, paid a copay, waited for him/her to be late, then had them shrug and say they don't know what's wrong with me. I would say that's been 90% of the doctors' appointments in my life (not that I've had to go very often). I don't really have the time or patience to deal with that again. The idea of spending my time sitting in a waiting room is revolting on its own. I guess that's why I'm not calling. I really wish I could find a Dr. Phil-style therapist (what, he was awesome before he went all Springer) who would lay it out for me straight instead of nodding sympathetically. That's what the last woman did. I liked her, but I need someone to shake me and ask me the hard questions I don't know how to ask myself. I don't even know what the questions are.

I have been scarce 'round the blog because it's been a very busy summer. I counted six straight weeks where Nick and/or I have played host or guest. I have loved every visit, but after six weeks I felt completely wrung out. At the end of it, I still had to face a dirty house, piles of laundry, an empty fridge, a garden & yard full of weeds, and a fat body from all the celebration eating (restaurants! desserts! oooh, let's make this! all of which were usually my idea). So I have a month to restore what I've been giving, giving, giving for six weeks. We've hired Saint Erika to take Sascha a few days a week. We still have a monster to-do list like we do every summer, catching up on things that have accumulated during the school year like getting the scanner fixed and replacing a ripped screen. But the house is clean. Garden is halfway there with the weeds. I've been eating well. The sun has peeked in here and there (the epic rain has continued through the summer, confining a lot of that visiting to the indoors-- crazymaking), enough for me to have a pool day or two with Sascha. We've finally had the opportunity to try to potty-train her, which has been a spotty endeavor at best. We're in no rush, she'll get there when she's ready. But aahhh... it is finally summer vacation!

I'll finish with Sascha's Funny Story of the summer: out of nowhere, she started yelling "What the FUCK?" Nick figured out this came from him, while he's driving. (small, discreet wipe of forehead as the blame is taken off the foul-mouthed mother.) So we've tried to change that to "WonderFUL!" It's only sort of working. We'll correct her, she'll give us this little "yeah right" smile and then yell the original version again. Ai, that kid.