I love my new vacuum. I really really really do. It is a Dyson "Animal" and it cost half a grand, but baby it was worth every penny. Chris and I actually were fighting over who got to use it. Today before work I heard words out of his mouth I thought I'd never hear, "I think I'll do a bit of light vacuuming tonight." Which was even funnier because we had already vacuumed every square inch of our home.
Today is 12 DPO. Which reminds me, the other day when I visited her at work, my friend Brina asked me a funny question. She is not an infertile but she is a symathizer, and a good one at that. She has never given me stupid assvice and even though the day I met her she was pregnant with her second child, I never felt bad around her. Anyway, she asked what was with the Robitussin? "You don't do anything....weird with it do you?" I thought about telling her I snorted it or froze it into ice cubes and used it as a suppository, but she was just so earnest. Not only that but our fellow dispatcher, Dino, was listening. Dino is the most awesome male-non-IF-sympathizer ever. He listened to every stage of this journey, even asking questions and also never gave stupid advice. However, there is only so much one man could take, I'm sure, so I refrained and told Brina the truth. I think she was a little let down.
This was a boring post I can't top the last one, so I won't even try. I gotta say I am a little scared about this months effort. EVERYTHING was perfect, timing, location, everything. AND my tubes were just HSG'd and my womb is all "fresh" and ready to recieve a baby. I think this is going to be a huge let down. I keep praying and telling the "little guy" who may not even exsist, to hold on, don't let go, please please don't let go. Also, I have to pee every hour, but I am prone to bladder infections (TMI sorry), so.......Sigh. Please hold on little guy......
Friday, December 31, 2004
Sunday, December 26, 2004
22 Infertiles Walk Into a Bar...
I used to belong to a Comedy Improv Team and one of the games we would play, was called, “22” It goes like this:
22 (fill in the blanks) walk into a bar. Bartender says, we don’t serve (blanks) here, and the 22 (blanks) say…(fill in punch line).
The audience would give us the topic and we’d make up the punch line, on the spot. It doesn’t have to be funny, but it does have to make sense. It can be clever, witty, a play on words, or a groaner. For example, we’d ask the audience, “Give us a noun!” And they’d say something like, “Cars!” And then my teammates and I would get a point for each “joke” we could make up. We would say something like: 22 Cars walk into a bar. Bartender says, we don’t serve Cars here and the 22 cars say……”You AUTO let us stay, we’re thirsty!” And each team member would go until we couldn’t think of any more jokes. I love to play this game with Chris, it makes him laugh, so I thought I’d give it a try with “Infertiles.” So here goes, I made all of these up, today when I couldn’t fall asleep:
22 Infertiles walk into a bar. Bartender says, we don’t serve Infertiles here, and the 22 Infertiles say….Why not, looks like you have plenty of WOMB.
22 Infertiles walk into a bar. Bartender says, we don’t serve Infertiles here, and the 22 Infertiles say…Are you afraid we might STIRRUP some trouble?
22 Infertiles walk into a bar. Bartender says, we don’t serve Infertiles here and the 22 Infertiles say…I can’t CONCIEVE of why not!
22 Infertiles walk into a bar. Bartender says, we don’t serve Infertiles here and the 22 Infertiles say…You know, that is not an ULTRA SOUND decision on your part, mister!
22 Infertiles walk into a bar. Bartender says, we don’t serve Infertiles here because they are too grumpy, and the 22 Infertiles say… We aren’t grumpy, that is just a common MISSED CONCEPTION.
22 Infertiles walk into a bar. Bartender says, we don’t serve Infertiles here can’t you read the sign? And the 22 Infertiles look above the bar and indeed there was a sign that read:
No Shirt
No Shoes
No CERVIX
HA HA HA. I love that one. Can you think of any? Give me any noun, I can come up with at least 3. This makes for a great Car Trip Game, BTW. And yes, I am aware that I have far too much free time on my hands! MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!
22 (fill in the blanks) walk into a bar. Bartender says, we don’t serve (blanks) here, and the 22 (blanks) say…(fill in punch line).
The audience would give us the topic and we’d make up the punch line, on the spot. It doesn’t have to be funny, but it does have to make sense. It can be clever, witty, a play on words, or a groaner. For example, we’d ask the audience, “Give us a noun!” And they’d say something like, “Cars!” And then my teammates and I would get a point for each “joke” we could make up. We would say something like: 22 Cars walk into a bar. Bartender says, we don’t serve Cars here and the 22 cars say……”You AUTO let us stay, we’re thirsty!” And each team member would go until we couldn’t think of any more jokes. I love to play this game with Chris, it makes him laugh, so I thought I’d give it a try with “Infertiles.” So here goes, I made all of these up, today when I couldn’t fall asleep:
22 Infertiles walk into a bar. Bartender says, we don’t serve Infertiles here, and the 22 Infertiles say….Why not, looks like you have plenty of WOMB.
22 Infertiles walk into a bar. Bartender says, we don’t serve Infertiles here, and the 22 Infertiles say…Are you afraid we might STIRRUP some trouble?
22 Infertiles walk into a bar. Bartender says, we don’t serve Infertiles here and the 22 Infertiles say…I can’t CONCIEVE of why not!
22 Infertiles walk into a bar. Bartender says, we don’t serve Infertiles here and the 22 Infertiles say…You know, that is not an ULTRA SOUND decision on your part, mister!
22 Infertiles walk into a bar. Bartender says, we don’t serve Infertiles here because they are too grumpy, and the 22 Infertiles say… We aren’t grumpy, that is just a common MISSED CONCEPTION.
22 Infertiles walk into a bar. Bartender says, we don’t serve Infertiles here can’t you read the sign? And the 22 Infertiles look above the bar and indeed there was a sign that read:
No Shirt
No Shoes
No CERVIX
HA HA HA. I love that one. Can you think of any? Give me any noun, I can come up with at least 3. This makes for a great Car Trip Game, BTW. And yes, I am aware that I have far too much free time on my hands! MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!
Tuesday, December 21, 2004
Stupid Parent Tricks
Chris and I had a fantastic time at the Monterey Bay Aquarium, (though I was inspired by the monsters disguised as children and wrote the list that follows later.) The hotel was also awesome, private balcony and view of the sea. When we got there there was a fire going in the fireplace and there was champange waiting on ice. However, today when we visited Carmel by the Sea, everything went to crap. The townsfolk fell just short of running us out with torches and pitchforks. I have no idea how they knew we were blue-collar/middle class, maybe they can smell it or something, but they were so blatantly rude to us! Our waiter all but spit on us. No one spoke to us or even offered us water for 15 minutes. Everyone else got bread before their meal, we got dirty looks. Our waiter brought us our food and then NEVER came back until we flagged him down for the bill. He walked right by us to the rich looking couple behind us six times, but I guess we just weren't the right kind of guest. Was it my Levi's? Chris' non brand name sunglasses (that I love), our lack of jewelry? How does he know we aren't loaded? Funny thing is Chris and I are really good tippers. The table there had white paper covering it and Crayons so you could write on the table while waiting for your food. After filling it with tic tac toe and hangmans, I wrote "Our waiter hates us, which is too bad because we tip really big--but only if you deserve it!!!"--in three colors. Joke's on them, we spent the whole ride home laughing about it.
And now:
STUPID PARENT TRICKS
I don't have children, I am not an expert on childhood behavior. When I am a parent, I will make mistakes, however I WILL NOT make the following mistakes that were made yesterday at the aquarium:
*One mom lifted her child over the guardrail--the one there for everyone's safety, not as an obstacle meant to be tackled--and took pictures. Then yelled at the child when she stayed behind it.
*Another told Chris and I, after her child bumped into me repeatedly, that she gave her child too much sugar and soda. She then proceeded to complain to US how he is out of control. Lady, you made him that way! And don't you laugh in that "isn't it just adorable/funny/commiserative /way. Notice that I am not laughing with you. Or at you. Or even near you.
*At one point I was obviously trying to take a picture of something, and some lady stepped in front of me and then called her child's attention to the it, then her entire family all crowded in front of it, blocking said object. I never did get the picture!
*When I have a child, I will not stand in front of a display with one of those giant hiker's backpacks, that you carry toddlers in, then spin around quickly, causing other patrons to have to dive for cover.
*To the lady infront of the Jelly fish tank:If your out of control child jumps up and down on my foot, why are you glaring at me when I yelp in pain? It is not my fault your child is husky.
*In the cafe, a lady asked us if we were in line then took her entire litter and bypassed us! We were not just standing there in the line for no reason, nor were we holding her place.
* One lady blocked an entire aquarium with a 4 foot wide stroller. (I won't even mention the exact number of how many people, hit me, blocked me or bumped into me with strollers.)
*Another Mom brought her child to see the Swell Shark incubating and went in to graphic detail about how, "When you were in Mommy's tummy you were attached like that by your belly button" Not only was she using her "outdoor voice" she was explaining this to a 2 year old who looked, both confused and bored.
* A father and son bonded by pounding on the shark tank exhibit and yelling. Meanwhile Chris and I prayed the glass would break and the shark would eat them both.
*We waited in line to have our picture taken inside the giant clam and had family after family cut in front of us, then when it was finally our turn--family after family walked in front of the camera.
*Even though the sign said "please touch the sea sponge gently" these parents laughed as their child flattened the creature. Even though a sign said, "for the shark's safety no flash photography", many parents, set a bad example by completely ignoring this.
Funny things: Every time Chris walked up to an aquarium, I mean every time, the fish would hide. You could have an entire third grade class in front of the tank but when Chris walked up they all fled. Chris went to the men's room. It was very crowded and he didn't want to stand next to anyone else so he thought, it would be a good idea to use the short urinal on the end. So he does, his thing, finishes and turns around. There behind him is a really long line, all the way to the door of small children. Turns out that it wasn't just a short urinal, it was for kids! He was so embarrassed; so much for his plan of being left alone! And finally, we went into this children's crawl area (ok for adults) to take a picture of the tropical fish, and when we crawled out all the parents were glaring at us for going in with out kids! So, that is my trip, we had fun.
Infertile update: I suck. I was supposed to start doing the white bullets 3 days ago and I keep forgetting. I think I am getting a cold too. I am still optimistic. Hope has arrived and she is settling in nicely, whether I like it or not. 12 days or so till FRED. Night!
And now:
STUPID PARENT TRICKS
I don't have children, I am not an expert on childhood behavior. When I am a parent, I will make mistakes, however I WILL NOT make the following mistakes that were made yesterday at the aquarium:
*One mom lifted her child over the guardrail--the one there for everyone's safety, not as an obstacle meant to be tackled--and took pictures. Then yelled at the child when she stayed behind it.
*Another told Chris and I, after her child bumped into me repeatedly, that she gave her child too much sugar and soda. She then proceeded to complain to US how he is out of control. Lady, you made him that way! And don't you laugh in that "isn't it just adorable/funny/commiserative /way. Notice that I am not laughing with you. Or at you. Or even near you.
*At one point I was obviously trying to take a picture of something, and some lady stepped in front of me and then called her child's attention to the it, then her entire family all crowded in front of it, blocking said object. I never did get the picture!
*When I have a child, I will not stand in front of a display with one of those giant hiker's backpacks, that you carry toddlers in, then spin around quickly, causing other patrons to have to dive for cover.
*To the lady infront of the Jelly fish tank:If your out of control child jumps up and down on my foot, why are you glaring at me when I yelp in pain? It is not my fault your child is husky.
*In the cafe, a lady asked us if we were in line then took her entire litter and bypassed us! We were not just standing there in the line for no reason, nor were we holding her place.
* One lady blocked an entire aquarium with a 4 foot wide stroller. (I won't even mention the exact number of how many people, hit me, blocked me or bumped into me with strollers.)
*Another Mom brought her child to see the Swell Shark incubating and went in to graphic detail about how, "When you were in Mommy's tummy you were attached like that by your belly button" Not only was she using her "outdoor voice" she was explaining this to a 2 year old who looked, both confused and bored.
* A father and son bonded by pounding on the shark tank exhibit and yelling. Meanwhile Chris and I prayed the glass would break and the shark would eat them both.
*We waited in line to have our picture taken inside the giant clam and had family after family cut in front of us, then when it was finally our turn--family after family walked in front of the camera.
*Even though the sign said "please touch the sea sponge gently" these parents laughed as their child flattened the creature. Even though a sign said, "for the shark's safety no flash photography", many parents, set a bad example by completely ignoring this.
Funny things: Every time Chris walked up to an aquarium, I mean every time, the fish would hide. You could have an entire third grade class in front of the tank but when Chris walked up they all fled. Chris went to the men's room. It was very crowded and he didn't want to stand next to anyone else so he thought, it would be a good idea to use the short urinal on the end. So he does, his thing, finishes and turns around. There behind him is a really long line, all the way to the door of small children. Turns out that it wasn't just a short urinal, it was for kids! He was so embarrassed; so much for his plan of being left alone! And finally, we went into this children's crawl area (ok for adults) to take a picture of the tropical fish, and when we crawled out all the parents were glaring at us for going in with out kids! So, that is my trip, we had fun.
Infertile update: I suck. I was supposed to start doing the white bullets 3 days ago and I keep forgetting. I think I am getting a cold too. I am still optimistic. Hope has arrived and she is settling in nicely, whether I like it or not. 12 days or so till FRED. Night!
Monday, December 20, 2004
Bawm-Chicka-Bawm-Bawm-Waka-Waka-Waka
(Title:Think 70's porn music) Not that I have any idea what 70's porn music is like...Ahem. Moving right along, I am soooooo excited! Going on a "weekend" getaway! At just the right time! Come gentle readers, join me as I make my check list for the trip:
*Money? Check.
*ID? Check.
*Pet sitter? Check.
*Lengthy list of doggies likes and dislikes, even though it's only an overnight trip? Check.
*Guilt about leaving the dogs behind. Check.
*Fear the dogs may just eat the Christmas tree in our absence? Check.
*Green tea, pre-pre-natals, Robitussin? Check.
*Ovulating? CHECK!!!!
*Reservations at a really swanky bed and breakfast with a fireplace, private balcony and unobstructed view of the ocean? Check.
*Great white sharks, sea horses and starfish? Check. (I am not hallucinating, we are going to the Monterey Bay aquarium and they have a brand new shark exhibit!)
*Sexy little number for tonight? Ch---, hey (blushing) that's just a little too personal!
*Husband who says if I don't get off the flippin' computer he's leaving without me? Check!
Gotta go, tell you all about it when I get back tomorrow. Well, not all about it but...Chris? Wait for me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
*Money? Check.
*ID? Check.
*Pet sitter? Check.
*Lengthy list of doggies likes and dislikes, even though it's only an overnight trip? Check.
*Guilt about leaving the dogs behind. Check.
*Fear the dogs may just eat the Christmas tree in our absence? Check.
*Green tea, pre-pre-natals, Robitussin? Check.
*Ovulating? CHECK!!!!
*Reservations at a really swanky bed and breakfast with a fireplace, private balcony and unobstructed view of the ocean? Check.
*Great white sharks, sea horses and starfish? Check. (I am not hallucinating, we are going to the Monterey Bay aquarium and they have a brand new shark exhibit!)
*Sexy little number for tonight? Ch---, hey (blushing) that's just a little too personal!
*Husband who says if I don't get off the flippin' computer he's leaving without me? Check!
Gotta go, tell you all about it when I get back tomorrow. Well, not all about it but...Chris? Wait for me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Saturday, December 18, 2004
Let Me Count the Ways I Hate You
WARNING: Last time I wrote a funny/hostile post I got zero comments, (see Open Letter to the Drivers of this area). I think my anger, frightened some people. As Brina will back me up on, our jobs as 911 dispatchers, just make our sense of humor, a little, well...off. Please don't be frightened, it's only me. And now....
10 Things I Hate About Everyone
1. People who point at their wrist while asking for the time.... I know where my watch is pal, where the hell is yours? Do I point at my crotch when I ask where the toilet is?
2. People who are willing to get off their bums to search the entire room for the TV remote because they refuse to walk to the TV and change the channel manually.
3. When people say "Oh you just want to have your cake and eat it too". Damn right! What good is cake if you can't eat it?
4. When people find something and say "it's always the last place you look". Of course it is. Why the hell would you keep looking after you've found it?
5. When people say while watching a film "did you see that?". Nope, I paid $10 to come to the cinema and stare at the damn floor.
6. People who ask "Can I ask you a question?".... Didn't really give me a choice there, did ya sunshine?
7. When something is 'new and improved!'. Which is it? If it's new, then there has never been anything before it. If it's an improvement, then there must have been something before it, so it couldn't be new.
8. When people say "life is short". What the hell?? Life is the longest thing anyone ever does!! Name one thing you do that's longer?
9. When you are waiting for the bus and someone asks "Has the bus come yet?" If the bus came would I be standing here, dumbass?
10. When you are buying 6 books on infertility and the sales clerk tells you to relax it will happen or God forbid launches into an unsolicited story that starts with, "You know what worked for my friend.....?" No I don't but I bet you're going to tell me.
(Disclaimer: Some of these were borrowed from my buddy Jimmy)
10 Things I Hate About Everyone
1. People who point at their wrist while asking for the time.... I know where my watch is pal, where the hell is yours? Do I point at my crotch when I ask where the toilet is?
2. People who are willing to get off their bums to search the entire room for the TV remote because they refuse to walk to the TV and change the channel manually.
3. When people say "Oh you just want to have your cake and eat it too". Damn right! What good is cake if you can't eat it?
4. When people find something and say "it's always the last place you look". Of course it is. Why the hell would you keep looking after you've found it?
5. When people say while watching a film "did you see that?". Nope, I paid $10 to come to the cinema and stare at the damn floor.
6. People who ask "Can I ask you a question?".... Didn't really give me a choice there, did ya sunshine?
7. When something is 'new and improved!'. Which is it? If it's new, then there has never been anything before it. If it's an improvement, then there must have been something before it, so it couldn't be new.
8. When people say "life is short". What the hell?? Life is the longest thing anyone ever does!! Name one thing you do that's longer?
9. When you are waiting for the bus and someone asks "Has the bus come yet?" If the bus came would I be standing here, dumbass?
10. When you are buying 6 books on infertility and the sales clerk tells you to relax it will happen or God forbid launches into an unsolicited story that starts with, "You know what worked for my friend.....?" No I don't but I bet you're going to tell me.
(Disclaimer: Some of these were borrowed from my buddy Jimmy)
Wednesday, December 15, 2004
Warning: Contents Under Extreme Pressure
My husband is stressed so I am stressed by Osmosis. It is a good thing I don't have a stressful job, like one where others lives are at stake...oh wait.
On another note, I have yet to buy my OPKs, take my Robitussin or temperature. I feel very bad about how apathetic I am being about this month's attempt, so far. Of course, it is only day 9. Or is it 10? See! I should know these things! I suck.
I am having a writer's block. Anything anyone want me to write about? I take requests. I wrote a pretty good one for Jen P a while back about multi-pet families. Speaking of Jen P, for those of you who pray, please keep her in your thoughts and prayers, she is the "Reich Ovary."
So what do you want me to write about? Think of me as your own personal "Dear Abby"...
On another note, I have yet to buy my OPKs, take my Robitussin or temperature. I feel very bad about how apathetic I am being about this month's attempt, so far. Of course, it is only day 9. Or is it 10? See! I should know these things! I suck.
I am having a writer's block. Anything anyone want me to write about? I take requests. I wrote a pretty good one for Jen P a while back about multi-pet families. Speaking of Jen P, for those of you who pray, please keep her in your thoughts and prayers, she is the "Reich Ovary."
So what do you want me to write about? Think of me as your own personal "Dear Abby"...
Sunday, December 12, 2004
You Might Be A Cop's Wife If....
Except for Michelle, Brina and I who are married to cops, this may not be all that funny, but what the heck here goes anyway, I hope you enjoy.
You Might Be a Cop's Wife If:
*You talk more in code than English sometimes. "10-4, hon."
*Your husband seems to hang up his brain with his badge/gun at the end of the day.
*DH shouts at the TV "That's not proper police procedure!" Every time you watch NYPD Blue .
*You have ammo in you bedside table instead of, well whatever normal people put in there.
*Your husband bought you a bullet proof vest for your birthday, "just in case"
*You have more paper targets up than wall paper.
*Your bathroom material and the secret stash of mags under the bed are both "Guns and Ammo"
*At work your husband can remember a suspect's name, DOB, drivers license number and AKAs but at home he can't remember to take out the trash on Mondays.
*Your husband asks to see the ID of everyone who comes to the door including the mail man.
*You have ever been at a mall/grocery store/video store/restaurant/children's birthday party and suddenly had to leave because your husband saw someone he arrested.
*DH drives like he is in Nascar when in his own personal vehicle, forgetting he is not in a patrol car.
*When you go out to dinner, your husband, points out which waiter, customer or cook is on meth, vicodin etc.
*Your husband can't figure out why everyone isn't getting out of his way, in traffic, like they do when he is at work.
And finally:
*That is a gun in his pocket, even if he is happy to see you.
(These were all based on fact, let me know if you think of any others. Chris is gonna kill me when he reads this one!)
You Might Be a Cop's Wife If:
*You talk more in code than English sometimes. "10-4, hon."
*Your husband seems to hang up his brain with his badge/gun at the end of the day.
*DH shouts at the TV "That's not proper police procedure!" Every time you watch NYPD Blue .
*You have ammo in you bedside table instead of, well whatever normal people put in there.
*Your husband bought you a bullet proof vest for your birthday, "just in case"
*You have more paper targets up than wall paper.
*Your bathroom material and the secret stash of mags under the bed are both "Guns and Ammo"
*At work your husband can remember a suspect's name, DOB, drivers license number and AKAs but at home he can't remember to take out the trash on Mondays.
*Your husband asks to see the ID of everyone who comes to the door including the mail man.
*You have ever been at a mall/grocery store/video store/restaurant/children's birthday party and suddenly had to leave because your husband saw someone he arrested.
*DH drives like he is in Nascar when in his own personal vehicle, forgetting he is not in a patrol car.
*When you go out to dinner, your husband, points out which waiter, customer or cook is on meth, vicodin etc.
*Your husband can't figure out why everyone isn't getting out of his way, in traffic, like they do when he is at work.
And finally:
*That is a gun in his pocket, even if he is happy to see you.
(These were all based on fact, let me know if you think of any others. Chris is gonna kill me when he reads this one!)
Saturday, December 11, 2004
Excuse Me While I Slip Into Something More Comfortable....Like a Paper Towel
No matter how clever and witty this post may be, the original was better. I did the the same thing as yesterday and I accidently deleted the whole thing. It was really funny. Oh well.
So I went to the doctor this morning and I was happy to be his first appointment of the day. And yet, still I waited for 20 minutes. It's a conspiracy. So I walk into the room and I see the paper "blanket". "Oh no," I said to the nurse, "not again, I swear there is nothing new in there!" She smiled politely. "Can't this be a clothed visit? I haven't been in stirrups this much since the summer of '94 when I tried horseback riding. Ha, ha, ha. (Uncomfortable silence.) Ahem, Ok, so I'll be in here if you need me. I'll be the half naked one wearing a cocktail napkin." Sigh. So Doc H comes in and checks out my tonsils through my hoo-ha, (they are still fine, by the way). Says everything looks great. Like normal woman great, not IF great. Our plan of action: December, January and February we'll mate like rabbits, (me and Chris not me and the Doc), then if that doesn't work we start with IUI in March. No clomid. No way. Just rabbit/OPK/Robitussin/white bullets/head stands. Not gonna do the BBT thing because I sleep during the day and am awake and night and I just don't have the patience to figure out when to take my temp. Maybe I'll do that in the Spring some time... You know what is sad? All I want for Christmas is an electronic Ovulation Predictor Kit. Oh goodie!
OK, so I am about to rant about something waaaaay off topic. If you get a chance take a look at the cover of this week's US. It says "Jessica [Simpson] Got Skinny!" Or some B.S. like that. She was already skinny now her ribs are showing! What did they think she was before? Husky? Thick? Gargantuan? And you know the person who wrote that is some slob sitting in their tiny cubicle behind their crappy desk, gorging on McCheeseburgers. You'd think they could have an ounce of consideration their readers and for what a real woman is. But no, they are too busy being bitter about the career path they have chosen to realize that the average female is size 10 not 2. Ignorant! Pisses me off. Whew. I feel better now that I have vented.
Speaking of "fluffy/fat"... And now I will close with yet another dog story. I have this bathrobe I like to wear, (Mom, you know the one) and Riley, the pleasantly plump puppy, always attaches the side of her 65 pound body to my leg when I wear it, where ever I go. Sometimes she actually walks inside the bathrobe if I stand still long enough. Well, this morning I took off the robe and draped it over the edge of the bed to see what would happen. Yup, you got it she stayed with the robe. I came back later and found, she had pulled a tiny corner of it onto the floor and was curled around it snoring like a lumberjack. Mom, rememeber how Hobbes (our cat), used to put a piece of our terry cloth robes (whether we were in them or not), in his mouth and suck on it. Remember, he'd knead it with his front paws and make "gggggg" sounds deep in his throat? I have weird pets. Oh, well, I have to go back to work. Til Later!
So I went to the doctor this morning and I was happy to be his first appointment of the day. And yet, still I waited for 20 minutes. It's a conspiracy. So I walk into the room and I see the paper "blanket". "Oh no," I said to the nurse, "not again, I swear there is nothing new in there!" She smiled politely. "Can't this be a clothed visit? I haven't been in stirrups this much since the summer of '94 when I tried horseback riding. Ha, ha, ha. (Uncomfortable silence.) Ahem, Ok, so I'll be in here if you need me. I'll be the half naked one wearing a cocktail napkin." Sigh. So Doc H comes in and checks out my tonsils through my hoo-ha, (they are still fine, by the way). Says everything looks great. Like normal woman great, not IF great. Our plan of action: December, January and February we'll mate like rabbits, (me and Chris not me and the Doc), then if that doesn't work we start with IUI in March. No clomid. No way. Just rabbit/OPK/Robitussin/white bullets/head stands. Not gonna do the BBT thing because I sleep during the day and am awake and night and I just don't have the patience to figure out when to take my temp. Maybe I'll do that in the Spring some time... You know what is sad? All I want for Christmas is an electronic Ovulation Predictor Kit. Oh goodie!
OK, so I am about to rant about something waaaaay off topic. If you get a chance take a look at the cover of this week's US. It says "Jessica [Simpson] Got Skinny!" Or some B.S. like that. She was already skinny now her ribs are showing! What did they think she was before? Husky? Thick? Gargantuan? And you know the person who wrote that is some slob sitting in their tiny cubicle behind their crappy desk, gorging on McCheeseburgers. You'd think they could have an ounce of consideration their readers and for what a real woman is. But no, they are too busy being bitter about the career path they have chosen to realize that the average female is size 10 not 2. Ignorant! Pisses me off. Whew. I feel better now that I have vented.
Speaking of "fluffy/fat"... And now I will close with yet another dog story. I have this bathrobe I like to wear, (Mom, you know the one) and Riley, the pleasantly plump puppy, always attaches the side of her 65 pound body to my leg when I wear it, where ever I go. Sometimes she actually walks inside the bathrobe if I stand still long enough. Well, this morning I took off the robe and draped it over the edge of the bed to see what would happen. Yup, you got it she stayed with the robe. I came back later and found, she had pulled a tiny corner of it onto the floor and was curled around it snoring like a lumberjack. Mom, rememeber how Hobbes (our cat), used to put a piece of our terry cloth robes (whether we were in them or not), in his mouth and suck on it. Remember, he'd knead it with his front paws and make "gggggg" sounds deep in his throat? I have weird pets. Oh, well, I have to go back to work. Til Later!
Friday, December 10, 2004
Who Needs Rudolph, When You've Got Hair Like This?
Hello to my new friend Michelle (please email me, I have a million questions) and hello to you, my little Blog, oh how I have missed you! My computer has gone kaput at home and we have a brand new policy that states we are not allowed to go online, (except to check email) at work anymore. We have a secure “intranet” and some Spyware that records keystrokes got in some how. This is very bad because we deal with a lot of confidential info here. I am having internet withdrawals. How, you may ask yourself did I post this? Well, I emailed myself this post, then on my lunch break, I will go out into the lobby of the police station, where there is a computer for the public and then cut and paste this onto my Blog. If, that is, that computer is working, which is about a 50/50 chance. Honestly, since I can be in and out in one minute or less, if it is not working, I will very quickly jump on and off the internet to cut/paste/post. But just this once. Really. No I mean it. {Written after the fact: Lobby computer worked.}
A lot has happened, recently. If you are as into my cycle as I am, and come on, who wouldn’t be, you may remember December is a very important TTC milestone. Two reasons, because it is the first post-lap attempt and because my Doc was optimistic, for the first time, about me getting pregnant. He thinks he fixed me. Though I am skeptical for my own emotional protection, I am going all out, this month. We are talking BBTs, Robitussin, OPKs, headstands, the whole nine months. I mean yards. Nine yards, whoo-wee, my Freudian Slip is showing, how embarrassing. Continuing on, I have a doctor’s appt. with Dr. H tomorrow when I get off of work at 8am. My period this time was especially painful. I needed to take six Advil on and off for three days! It hurt worse than any of the days after my surgery. Also, when I called for this appt., they said I was supposed to go in 2 weeks post-op for a check up. Maybe they should have called and reminded me, instead of assuming that I would remember what they told me all doped up in the recovery room… Either way, whoops. As for this difficult cycle, I am guessing it was because things were still healing on the inside. Also, it lasted 5 days instead of my normal 2, so this very well may have been my first “real” period in years. OK, enough about my bodily functions, you can’t possibly find them as fascinating as I do…and if so, get help, fast. Speaking of bodily functions, did you know I have fecal-a-phobia? (Yes, I made that term up) I can’t stand poo. When South Park’s Mr. Hanky the Christmas Poo comes on, I run screaming from the room. Every time. Chris loves to watch S.P. and he thinks it’s hilarious. I can’t clean the toilet either, without heaving. Chris usually has to do that too. Strange thing is, picking up after the dogs doesn’t bother me at all, so I think I will be OK, with diaper changes. I hope, for Chris’ sake! How did that come up? Did I have a point, or was I just in the mood to talk about poo….? Oh yeah, I am watching CSI, which I love, and they had a prison fight where the inmates flung poo and I just about puked up my popcorn. They could have at least warned the viewers. Both me and my dispatcher friend have had 911 calls where the guy had, “explosive diarrhea" and proceeded to explain this medical problem in great, expressive detail. Loved that call, so much. Ok, enough about poo, (but by the way, I know poo has an “h” on the end, but I didn’t want anyone to think I was afraid of yellow bears in red t-shirts, ‘cause that would be weird…)
So, let me tell you about the CHP Christmas dance and why the title of my Post is “Who Needs Rudolph When You’ve got Hair Like This?” I dyed the front of my hair blonde, just two one inch strips in the front, and my intention was to dye them red. Like a sultry deep, crimson red—my favorite color. I always do stuff with my hair, my motto is--it’s only hair, and it will grow back. So ON THE DAY OF my husband’s office party, I think, hey today is as good as any to dye my hair! This is the hair equivalent for you, right now, as watching a scary movie where the person is about to go alone into the basement. Of course, from your comfortable chair, you are thinking, “Oh, bad idea. No…no…Oh man she went and did it anyway. Stupid! I never would have done that.” Yeah. Where were you and why didn’t you call and warn me? So, as I stood crying in front of the mirror, staring at my (I swear, no exaggeration) florescent, day glow, fuchsia hair, all I could think of was what my husband’s co-workers would think or say at the party that night:
*Hey Chris, my left rear tail light is out, can I strap your wife to my bumper?
*Oh man, there was an accident out front and we don’t have enough road flares, would your wife mind standing out there for a while?
*Who needs Rudolph the Red nosed reindeer? Chris’ wife can guide Santa’s sleigh!
*Who does your wife work for? Crayola? Bozo the Clown? Ronald McDonald?
*Hey, Chris some of the lights went out on the Christmas tree, do you think your wife would mind standing by it while we take our pictures?
It was sooooo bad! [Yes, Sannorah, give me your email and I will send you the picture, and darn your evil laughter!] When my friend Sean saw me, he loved it, he thought it was amazing. He, however, is three and probably thought it was his birthday and I was the entertainment. I didn’t take his love for my hair, as a good sign. Chris came home and said it was fine. It wasn’t. Thank God I had a spare box of Soft Black hair dye. It now looks fabulous and I looked pretty good at the party. Hose me off, and put on a little make up, and I usually clean up alright. I looked a little tired because I hadn’t slept in 36 hours, but not scary in the least. If I ever get the internet back at home I will try so hard to put the pictures on here.
And now, I end with yet another dog story. Today we took our family Christmas pictures. Riley, (AKA Fat Ass) wore the Santa suit, the other three dogs Santa hats, Chris and I, Reindeer antlers. The Santa suit was great; you put the dog’s front legs into Santa’s legs then there are fake arms attached. It was hilarious, it took at least 20 shots to get one or two good ones. Some, a dog is all blurry and running out of the frame, others two or more of the dogs look drunk—Santa hats askew. At one point the Alpha dog, Xena just sighed, laid down and refused to get up again. She is in the pictures but she is obviously pissed off. All and all, there will be at least one good enough to put in our Christmas cards. Speaking of Fat Ass/Riley, we tied a jingle bell to her collar and now we can hear every time she starts eating. We are now trying to “distract and redirect” her towards more constructive/thinning activities. Like fetch… or water polo. It’s really not working too great. Ok, well I think we are all caught up. Did this take you like an hour to read? Did you drop your internet connection a bunch of times because your computer thought you’d walked away? What can I say I am nothing if not verbose. What do they call it? Oh yeah, verbal diarrhea…wait…EWWWWW!!!!
A lot has happened, recently. If you are as into my cycle as I am, and come on, who wouldn’t be, you may remember December is a very important TTC milestone. Two reasons, because it is the first post-lap attempt and because my Doc was optimistic, for the first time, about me getting pregnant. He thinks he fixed me. Though I am skeptical for my own emotional protection, I am going all out, this month. We are talking BBTs, Robitussin, OPKs, headstands, the whole nine months. I mean yards. Nine yards, whoo-wee, my Freudian Slip is showing, how embarrassing. Continuing on, I have a doctor’s appt. with Dr. H tomorrow when I get off of work at 8am. My period this time was especially painful. I needed to take six Advil on and off for three days! It hurt worse than any of the days after my surgery. Also, when I called for this appt., they said I was supposed to go in 2 weeks post-op for a check up. Maybe they should have called and reminded me, instead of assuming that I would remember what they told me all doped up in the recovery room… Either way, whoops. As for this difficult cycle, I am guessing it was because things were still healing on the inside. Also, it lasted 5 days instead of my normal 2, so this very well may have been my first “real” period in years. OK, enough about my bodily functions, you can’t possibly find them as fascinating as I do…and if so, get help, fast. Speaking of bodily functions, did you know I have fecal-a-phobia? (Yes, I made that term up) I can’t stand poo. When South Park’s Mr. Hanky the Christmas Poo comes on, I run screaming from the room. Every time. Chris loves to watch S.P. and he thinks it’s hilarious. I can’t clean the toilet either, without heaving. Chris usually has to do that too. Strange thing is, picking up after the dogs doesn’t bother me at all, so I think I will be OK, with diaper changes. I hope, for Chris’ sake! How did that come up? Did I have a point, or was I just in the mood to talk about poo….? Oh yeah, I am watching CSI, which I love, and they had a prison fight where the inmates flung poo and I just about puked up my popcorn. They could have at least warned the viewers. Both me and my dispatcher friend have had 911 calls where the guy had, “explosive diarrhea" and proceeded to explain this medical problem in great, expressive detail. Loved that call, so much. Ok, enough about poo, (but by the way, I know poo has an “h” on the end, but I didn’t want anyone to think I was afraid of yellow bears in red t-shirts, ‘cause that would be weird…)
So, let me tell you about the CHP Christmas dance and why the title of my Post is “Who Needs Rudolph When You’ve got Hair Like This?” I dyed the front of my hair blonde, just two one inch strips in the front, and my intention was to dye them red. Like a sultry deep, crimson red—my favorite color. I always do stuff with my hair, my motto is--it’s only hair, and it will grow back. So ON THE DAY OF my husband’s office party, I think, hey today is as good as any to dye my hair! This is the hair equivalent for you, right now, as watching a scary movie where the person is about to go alone into the basement. Of course, from your comfortable chair, you are thinking, “Oh, bad idea. No…no…Oh man she went and did it anyway. Stupid! I never would have done that.” Yeah. Where were you and why didn’t you call and warn me? So, as I stood crying in front of the mirror, staring at my (I swear, no exaggeration) florescent, day glow, fuchsia hair, all I could think of was what my husband’s co-workers would think or say at the party that night:
*Hey Chris, my left rear tail light is out, can I strap your wife to my bumper?
*Oh man, there was an accident out front and we don’t have enough road flares, would your wife mind standing out there for a while?
*Who needs Rudolph the Red nosed reindeer? Chris’ wife can guide Santa’s sleigh!
*Who does your wife work for? Crayola? Bozo the Clown? Ronald McDonald?
*Hey, Chris some of the lights went out on the Christmas tree, do you think your wife would mind standing by it while we take our pictures?
It was sooooo bad! [Yes, Sannorah, give me your email and I will send you the picture, and darn your evil laughter!] When my friend Sean saw me, he loved it, he thought it was amazing. He, however, is three and probably thought it was his birthday and I was the entertainment. I didn’t take his love for my hair, as a good sign. Chris came home and said it was fine. It wasn’t. Thank God I had a spare box of Soft Black hair dye. It now looks fabulous and I looked pretty good at the party. Hose me off, and put on a little make up, and I usually clean up alright. I looked a little tired because I hadn’t slept in 36 hours, but not scary in the least. If I ever get the internet back at home I will try so hard to put the pictures on here.
And now, I end with yet another dog story. Today we took our family Christmas pictures. Riley, (AKA Fat Ass) wore the Santa suit, the other three dogs Santa hats, Chris and I, Reindeer antlers. The Santa suit was great; you put the dog’s front legs into Santa’s legs then there are fake arms attached. It was hilarious, it took at least 20 shots to get one or two good ones. Some, a dog is all blurry and running out of the frame, others two or more of the dogs look drunk—Santa hats askew. At one point the Alpha dog, Xena just sighed, laid down and refused to get up again. She is in the pictures but she is obviously pissed off. All and all, there will be at least one good enough to put in our Christmas cards. Speaking of Fat Ass/Riley, we tied a jingle bell to her collar and now we can hear every time she starts eating. We are now trying to “distract and redirect” her towards more constructive/thinning activities. Like fetch… or water polo. It’s really not working too great. Ok, well I think we are all caught up. Did this take you like an hour to read? Did you drop your internet connection a bunch of times because your computer thought you’d walked away? What can I say I am nothing if not verbose. What do they call it? Oh yeah, verbal diarrhea…wait…EWWWWW!!!!
Friday, December 03, 2004
YOU, My Friends, "Get It"
I said to an acquaintance, "I wish this kid we are trying to make would just hurry up and get here. I've really come to despise the little brat." Blank stare. Mixed with horrified shock, and just a dash of "no wonder you're barren" thrown in for good measure. She had no concept that, this was my way protecting myself; cocooning my heartache in sarcasm. YOU know that I only say that, because laughter is more therapeutic than tears. YOU know that I already love the little "brat" more than myself. YOU know that when I say, "Dogs are better than kids because I can tie them to a tree in the back yard and go away for the weekend." That, first of all, I would never tie my dog to a tree, and I always get a pet sitter. Secondly, I yearn to be "saddled" with the "burden" of not being able to just get up and go and third, if the way I dote on my doggies is any indication of how I will be as a mom, then I will be nominated as PTA parent of the year, long about 2012. OK, I am done venting. Thank YOU.
Quick "Sean Story" then I have to get off the internet because, I got in a little bit of trouble for my internet usage. Well, more because because of said internet usage, they found 700 Spyware systems in our confidential police "intra-net." Anyway, I thought of the perfect way to convince Sean that police are better than firemen, (when my husband saw him dressed as a fireman for Halloween, he about choked). I took him to my job and an officer showed him all the different police cars and what they could do. And, yes he did like the neat flashing lights, but do you know what he really, really liked? Dispatch! He loved my job. Not only could we not tear him away from the radio console, where he would "talk" to the officers, we had to come back later, for more. I told him he could touch any of the buttons, (there are about fifty), except the red ones, they transmit over the air. When the officers would talk, I told him to say "Ten four" which he loved because he would often hear them say "Ten four" back and he thought they were talking to him. The microphone is on a long stalk and it creaks really loud when you move it up or down to adjust for you height. He looooved that. Finally his mom and I convinced him that we had errands to run nearby, but he kept insisting, "I have to go to work, at Rebeccas job. Come on, we need to go back, I have to go to work." So we returned and he "spoke" some more on the radio. Of course, I was delighted that he liked my job. I probably mentioned before, I have a closet FULL of police toys. They are a lot harder to find than you think. I have, police toys, Marine Corps toys and Mechanic toys so, some day I can say, "Look Liam/Shannyn, this is what Daddy does (or did)." I didn't have anything, for what Mommy did/does. I do have a sign language Barbie so that is cool, but unless I buy a doll, put bags under her eyes, friz out her hair, draw blisters on her feet and dress her in an unflattering uniform, I will not be able to say, "Look Liam/Shannyn, this was what Mommy used to be. What is this, you ask? Why it's Under-paid, Overworked Retail Barbie. Go ahead, yell at her, apparently it will make you feel better." Recently I found a Mobil toys Police Department set, which is soooooo cool to me because it has a police dispatcher center in it. Finally something I can show the kid, and be proud of. And the point to this whole story is that, until I saw Sean sitting there, mesmerized at the radio console, I really never thought my future kids would be interested in what Mommy does. I really thought Daddy would be there on career day and Daddy would be the one whose job was "cool." What can I say, it was really great. Now if the little brat would just hurry up and get here so I can show him/her...
Quick "Sean Story" then I have to get off the internet because, I got in a little bit of trouble for my internet usage. Well, more because because of said internet usage, they found 700 Spyware systems in our confidential police "intra-net." Anyway, I thought of the perfect way to convince Sean that police are better than firemen, (when my husband saw him dressed as a fireman for Halloween, he about choked). I took him to my job and an officer showed him all the different police cars and what they could do. And, yes he did like the neat flashing lights, but do you know what he really, really liked? Dispatch! He loved my job. Not only could we not tear him away from the radio console, where he would "talk" to the officers, we had to come back later, for more. I told him he could touch any of the buttons, (there are about fifty), except the red ones, they transmit over the air. When the officers would talk, I told him to say "Ten four" which he loved because he would often hear them say "Ten four" back and he thought they were talking to him. The microphone is on a long stalk and it creaks really loud when you move it up or down to adjust for you height. He looooved that. Finally his mom and I convinced him that we had errands to run nearby, but he kept insisting, "I have to go to work, at Rebeccas job. Come on, we need to go back, I have to go to work." So we returned and he "spoke" some more on the radio. Of course, I was delighted that he liked my job. I probably mentioned before, I have a closet FULL of police toys. They are a lot harder to find than you think. I have, police toys, Marine Corps toys and Mechanic toys so, some day I can say, "Look Liam/Shannyn, this is what Daddy does (or did)." I didn't have anything, for what Mommy did/does. I do have a sign language Barbie so that is cool, but unless I buy a doll, put bags under her eyes, friz out her hair, draw blisters on her feet and dress her in an unflattering uniform, I will not be able to say, "Look Liam/Shannyn, this was what Mommy used to be. What is this, you ask? Why it's Under-paid, Overworked Retail Barbie. Go ahead, yell at her, apparently it will make you feel better." Recently I found a Mobil toys Police Department set, which is soooooo cool to me because it has a police dispatcher center in it. Finally something I can show the kid, and be proud of. And the point to this whole story is that, until I saw Sean sitting there, mesmerized at the radio console, I really never thought my future kids would be interested in what Mommy does. I really thought Daddy would be there on career day and Daddy would be the one whose job was "cool." What can I say, it was really great. Now if the little brat would just hurry up and get here so I can show him/her...
Thursday, December 02, 2004
Yay Me!
I fixed my BLOG, all by my widdle sewf. Well that is all until tomorrow, I have to drastically reduce my internet time while at work and I used up all my time re-adding my Homies. Til later!
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