This has nothing to do with anything, really. I just read this article today that talks about mom-bloggers (a term I loathe, but not as much as if you add "-my" to the end of "mom"-- talk about a condescending term) who make money hawking products on their blogs. I just want to say, for the record, that while I would love the extra cash that would bring, I couldn't do that. I've even hesitated to write about products I'm in love with just because I didn't want it to sound like a commercial. I've found really cool blogs and stopped reading them as soon as they put up a reader contest to win some crap. That's not what this one is about. Besides, product placement within my writing would take the focus off my self-absorption, and I wouldn't want to do that.
But if the Dr. Bronner's peppermint soap people ever wanna cut me a check, I wouldn't turn them away. I'm just sayin'.
PS: unrelated: it was my last day teaching summer camp today and a kid threw up in the hall. This turned my classroom upside-down and there was chaos for a good 20 minutes while kids called their moms to come pick them up and such. I caught one girl just as she was on her way out the door with my desk-cleaning sponge to try to clean it up. I can laugh now, but ugh... those of you who teach elementary school? Just so you know... Teaching high school is terrifying. Teenagers are huge, and they mouth off every day. Sometimes they back us into corners, cowering. They all do drugs and carry weapons. (there, that oughta keep you thinking you have the better deal.)
Friday, July 17, 2009
Thursday, July 16, 2009
The Ghost of Pregnancy Past
This morning I was going about my business. As I reached into the fridge for the half & half, the expiration date reached out and smacked me across the face.
August 15th.
My due date for my last pregnancy (or, "pregnancy").
My dad had warned me that I'd be feeling sad again around my due date, and I secretly thought, "nah, that's a hundred years away, surely I'll be pregnant again by then." Hmm, yep. So here I am, not pregnant and feeling bad, right on schedule. Not devastated or even teary, just a little down.
And yet! Still torturously ambivalent! For the nine thousandth time, I am still balanced perfectly on that fence. Loving Sascha's independence. But seeing babies on TV and craving the feel of that tiny body curled up like a shrimp in my arms, wondering if I could breastfeed a second baby or if a second baby would even lie in my arms. Seeing my sister still have to chase after her not-quite-two-year-old, still needing baby gates and such, and thinking UGH I am so over all of that. But seeing her kids play with their siblings, and oof... what a lame life Sascha would have if I deprived her of that. (I am aware that comments are open, say what you want, but I had a kick-ass childhood with three great siblings who are now great friends. I stand by my lame life assertion.)
I have an appointment with the coolest midwife on the planet next week (or the week after maybe?). I'm going to see what she thinks. I just want someone to tell me what to do. I want a definitive answer: I am infertile. Nick is infertile. One month of clomid would work. Just something definite. Something final. If she puts me on clomid, which-- ehh, shockingly, I have mixed feelings about-- then I'll be on it for like one or two months before it's time for us to use condoms again. Naturally this brings forth the "stop trying to time it for the school year" nags, which-- people, (and by "people" I mean Mom*), if I was given the choice between having a newborn at the beginning of a school year or never having another baby, there would be skidmarks on the floor from me heading to the computer to put all the baby stuff on Craigslist. Dust hands, end of story, no intentional babies from September through February. Surprise babies? Of course I'd be thrilled, I'm just saying they'd be the result of a faulty condom. An actual surprise, not a "surprise."
I'm tearing my freakin' hair out with this. Also, I've had the same conversation with seven different people over the last few weeks-- people in my same situation who are like "yeah, I want it, but dude, I just cannot go through that again."
Also, I haven't written in like two weeks because (A) same old boring shit with the endless mental whining about a second baby-- even I'm tired of it, and (B) I've been teaching summer camp and visiting with out-of-town family. I've spent more time writing this post just now than I've spent with my own child in the past two weeks. August will be free and boring. There is a part of me that wants to think I will spend the month getting freaky with Nick trying to get pregnant, but in reality I will be working on my kitchen. That's just how I roll. (also, I'm sick of actually trying and then being disappointed. At least I can paint my cabinets and stand back and go "there-- done" and actually accomplish something I attempt.)
*Hey Ma, in your defense, I did just say I want someone to tell me what to do. Heh. Love you.
August 15th.
My due date for my last pregnancy (or, "pregnancy").
My dad had warned me that I'd be feeling sad again around my due date, and I secretly thought, "nah, that's a hundred years away, surely I'll be pregnant again by then." Hmm, yep. So here I am, not pregnant and feeling bad, right on schedule. Not devastated or even teary, just a little down.
And yet! Still torturously ambivalent! For the nine thousandth time, I am still balanced perfectly on that fence. Loving Sascha's independence. But seeing babies on TV and craving the feel of that tiny body curled up like a shrimp in my arms, wondering if I could breastfeed a second baby or if a second baby would even lie in my arms. Seeing my sister still have to chase after her not-quite-two-year-old, still needing baby gates and such, and thinking UGH I am so over all of that. But seeing her kids play with their siblings, and oof... what a lame life Sascha would have if I deprived her of that. (I am aware that comments are open, say what you want, but I had a kick-ass childhood with three great siblings who are now great friends. I stand by my lame life assertion.)
I have an appointment with the coolest midwife on the planet next week (or the week after maybe?). I'm going to see what she thinks. I just want someone to tell me what to do. I want a definitive answer: I am infertile. Nick is infertile. One month of clomid would work. Just something definite. Something final. If she puts me on clomid, which-- ehh, shockingly, I have mixed feelings about-- then I'll be on it for like one or two months before it's time for us to use condoms again. Naturally this brings forth the "stop trying to time it for the school year" nags, which-- people, (and by "people" I mean Mom*), if I was given the choice between having a newborn at the beginning of a school year or never having another baby, there would be skidmarks on the floor from me heading to the computer to put all the baby stuff on Craigslist. Dust hands, end of story, no intentional babies from September through February. Surprise babies? Of course I'd be thrilled, I'm just saying they'd be the result of a faulty condom. An actual surprise, not a "surprise."
I'm tearing my freakin' hair out with this. Also, I've had the same conversation with seven different people over the last few weeks-- people in my same situation who are like "yeah, I want it, but dude, I just cannot go through that again."
Also, I haven't written in like two weeks because (A) same old boring shit with the endless mental whining about a second baby-- even I'm tired of it, and (B) I've been teaching summer camp and visiting with out-of-town family. I've spent more time writing this post just now than I've spent with my own child in the past two weeks. August will be free and boring. There is a part of me that wants to think I will spend the month getting freaky with Nick trying to get pregnant, but in reality I will be working on my kitchen. That's just how I roll. (also, I'm sick of actually trying and then being disappointed. At least I can paint my cabinets and stand back and go "there-- done" and actually accomplish something I attempt.)
*Hey Ma, in your defense, I did just say I want someone to tell me what to do. Heh. Love you.
Saturday, July 04, 2009
Independence Day
Which is today. Hooray! And THE. SUN. IS. OUT. If you don't live in New England you have no idea what a big deal this is. You know how you'll get a few days of rain in a row, and even if you like rain, after a while you think "enough already, let's have some sun!" Well we hit that point probably six weeks ago. And the rain never stopped. But today? AHHH!!! As soon as I finish posting this I'm going out for a good hard run.
I haven't posted in a while and I've got a few things on my mind.
1. My current mood about a second child:
Whatever. I'm so done with tracking my cycle and forcing sex and getting my hopes up and then getting my period. I have started to renovate my kitchen and I'm focusing on that. Also, for the first time since-- well, ever, we actually have a small financial surplus! Nick wanted to put that money towards a trip to Aruba so that we'd get to see the sun sometime this year. It was a very tempting prospect during the eternal rains, and we priced several options. Unfortunately, the trip would have used up the entire surplus. We decided to not go. That way, if I get pregnant, we'll have money for my maternity leave (I always think of my non-American readers when I reference that, and yes, a little smoke comes out of my ears). If I don't get pregnant, then that money will grow and we can really take a nice trip next summer. We'll have the option (financially) to either fly to Omaha first, leave Sascha with Nick's parents, and go on our trip from there; or we can take the trip with her, when she's older and easier than she is now. It's win-win. I am thrilled to finally have a cushion in the bank. During the first two years of our relationship, we were so broke at times that we had to sell our CDs for grocery money, and since then we've been paying off credit card debt, so this is a dream come true.
Anyway, so I'm tired of thinking about getting pregnant. I'm not going to prevent it (until October or so, when the school year timing would be bad-- and please, everyone stop telling me to disregard that, you are not the one who has to teach on no sleep), I'm just done worrying about it. My body is annoying me and I want to know why, if my ovaries are not actually sending an egg every month, why I am not just going through menopause. Let's just get it over with already. I've got moustache cream, I'm ready.
Oh, and my kitchen! I'm painting the cabinets white. I've also cut out the center panels of 6 of the 8 top cabinet doors and I'm going to replace them with frosted glass. Then the walls... I've got a few colors in mind but I'll see how I feel when the cabinets are done. Something greenish. Then I'm going to replace half the counters with butcher block... which makes me teary with excitement, like an adolescent girl at a Jonas Brothers concert. I can only do half because the other half has a weird angle which will require professional labor to cut & fit it, as well as a new sink, and that little $$ cushion ain't that big. So, half.
2. Funny kid story: at the park today, Sascha was calling "Hey Nick! Hey Nick!" and after we cracked up and got her to call him Daddy again, she paused, then turned to me and said "Hey Abby!" Little smartass. Good Christ she is going to give us a run for our money.
3. This is for those of you who are over, let's say, 30. When was the last time you tried to do a cartwheel? I'm 37 and fairly active. I can run a dozen miles and I lift weights often. Well! We were at the playground today and I hopped on a swing. Nick started to push me kind of high and it was the weirdest sensation, almost painful. I was laughing hard enough that no sound was coming out of my mouth. It is bizarre what a typical American adulthood (sitting in front of a screen) can do to your body. I may have strength and stamina, but wow, range of motion? So then Nick tried it-- same result for him. We both tried hanging upside-down by our knees-- whoa again. The hardest part was getting our legs up to the bar. And getting down. It reminded me of a few months ago, when my four-year-old niece asked me to do a cartwheel. I said sure, no problem, then... AI!! It had probably been a decade since I last did that, and it was a rude awakening for many of my muscles.
So today I resolved to start whipping myself around more often. We'll see how that goes... Yoga would be good, except I hate it. It's boring. I get way too impatient.
(Had to cut this short because kid wouldn't nap. Shocker.)
I haven't posted in a while and I've got a few things on my mind.
1. My current mood about a second child:
Whatever. I'm so done with tracking my cycle and forcing sex and getting my hopes up and then getting my period. I have started to renovate my kitchen and I'm focusing on that. Also, for the first time since-- well, ever, we actually have a small financial surplus! Nick wanted to put that money towards a trip to Aruba so that we'd get to see the sun sometime this year. It was a very tempting prospect during the eternal rains, and we priced several options. Unfortunately, the trip would have used up the entire surplus. We decided to not go. That way, if I get pregnant, we'll have money for my maternity leave (I always think of my non-American readers when I reference that, and yes, a little smoke comes out of my ears). If I don't get pregnant, then that money will grow and we can really take a nice trip next summer. We'll have the option (financially) to either fly to Omaha first, leave Sascha with Nick's parents, and go on our trip from there; or we can take the trip with her, when she's older and easier than she is now. It's win-win. I am thrilled to finally have a cushion in the bank. During the first two years of our relationship, we were so broke at times that we had to sell our CDs for grocery money, and since then we've been paying off credit card debt, so this is a dream come true.
Anyway, so I'm tired of thinking about getting pregnant. I'm not going to prevent it (until October or so, when the school year timing would be bad-- and please, everyone stop telling me to disregard that, you are not the one who has to teach on no sleep), I'm just done worrying about it. My body is annoying me and I want to know why, if my ovaries are not actually sending an egg every month, why I am not just going through menopause. Let's just get it over with already. I've got moustache cream, I'm ready.
Oh, and my kitchen! I'm painting the cabinets white. I've also cut out the center panels of 6 of the 8 top cabinet doors and I'm going to replace them with frosted glass. Then the walls... I've got a few colors in mind but I'll see how I feel when the cabinets are done. Something greenish. Then I'm going to replace half the counters with butcher block... which makes me teary with excitement, like an adolescent girl at a Jonas Brothers concert. I can only do half because the other half has a weird angle which will require professional labor to cut & fit it, as well as a new sink, and that little $$ cushion ain't that big. So, half.
2. Funny kid story: at the park today, Sascha was calling "Hey Nick! Hey Nick!" and after we cracked up and got her to call him Daddy again, she paused, then turned to me and said "Hey Abby!" Little smartass. Good Christ she is going to give us a run for our money.
3. This is for those of you who are over, let's say, 30. When was the last time you tried to do a cartwheel? I'm 37 and fairly active. I can run a dozen miles and I lift weights often. Well! We were at the playground today and I hopped on a swing. Nick started to push me kind of high and it was the weirdest sensation, almost painful. I was laughing hard enough that no sound was coming out of my mouth. It is bizarre what a typical American adulthood (sitting in front of a screen) can do to your body. I may have strength and stamina, but wow, range of motion? So then Nick tried it-- same result for him. We both tried hanging upside-down by our knees-- whoa again. The hardest part was getting our legs up to the bar. And getting down. It reminded me of a few months ago, when my four-year-old niece asked me to do a cartwheel. I said sure, no problem, then... AI!! It had probably been a decade since I last did that, and it was a rude awakening for many of my muscles.
So today I resolved to start whipping myself around more often. We'll see how that goes... Yoga would be good, except I hate it. It's boring. I get way too impatient.
(Had to cut this short because kid wouldn't nap. Shocker.)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
