Ambivalent

Lots of things going on, not a whole lot of time.

First things first, did our trigger tonight. It actually didn't hurt as much as I had remembered. Either I overstated things before, or, as Husband put it, he's just "that good." We'll see how I feel when I try to get out of bed tomorrow morning. I have my first IUI mid-morning tomorrow, and then the second about 24 hours later. I have two decent follicles, both on the right side (interesting), one was a 23 this morning, and the other a 20. I don't think that on our previous attempts we ever triggered with two that were this big. I certainly can feel them. I've been having some not-so-subtle twinges for the past couple of days. There are about 4-5 of them that are in the low teens, but I don't think that they will have enough steam to do anything to be worried about.

I'm nervous, and trying not to think about it too much. Of course, I would like for it to work, but I'm scared about it actually working. Does that make sense? It's just that I feel as though I stuggle so much some days just to keep myself about water. What would I do with two? I don't get naps now, and I remember how exhausted I was the whole first trimester with Son. The one thing that seems to be weighing on my mind the most is that Husband is really excited about this. Since he is usually the restrained one, I'm not used to him jumping on the bandwagon with this much enthusiasm. Yes, I do remember that I was complaining that he was being non-committal before. Just goes to show that you need to be careful of what you wish for.

The other part is that our Christmas celebration got pushed up a day thanks to my SIL. Of course, no one broached the subject with us, you know, the people who are hosting it, until, oh, yesterday. I'm just down about the whole thing. Despite being an introvert, and not being a particularily good hostess, I really DO enjoy the preparation part. I like to bake cookies, decorate. It might not qualify for any magazine spread, but it's the process that I like. Pushing everything up a day really screws that up. The house isn't going to be what I want, I won't get to cook anything because Husband takes over and makes the meal (probably a good thing, since the last time I tried to make poultry of any sort, I put the chicken upside down in the roaster.) I just don't feel like I contribute much. The house isn't going to be where I want it to be, and crap will be shoved into the bedroom, the china isn't going to get pre-washed, or the silverware polished. I'll be lucky if we actually get everything on the table. My goal at this point is to erradicate all of the cat hair on the floors, and chip the squashed peas off of the floor. Oh well.

At this point, I just want to get through all of it, and I'm really looking forward to Son's face when he gets into his presents. He's really into everything truck, or at least with wheels. We indulged him a bit, but it's fun. He's actually seen most of it already-we have to 'fess up to a couple of bait-and-switches in TRU, but at least we know that things won't end up in a corner. I also got him his first trike. I can't wait for him to be on it this summer; pregnant or not.

I'm home all this coming week, so my hope is that I can actually get some things done around here. I've had a new storage system for my linen closet out in the garage since, umm, this summer. I need to reclaim our office. I also want to make a point to just stop, and spend time with Son. He's doing so many things right now, and while he is going through that phase of wanting "Da-Da" all the time, I don't want to miss this stuff. It's so easy to just focus on what I think needs to be done. Time to recharge and hug my little boy. And survive tomorrow.

The case of the disappearing follicles...

Had another monitoring appointment today. Got a speeding ticket on the way. OK, so the "short cut" wasn't that great of an idea. The cop was grumpy too. I didn't expect Mr. Sunshine, but sheesh....My first ticket in 15 years. However, it should be noted that mine was still $80 less than Husband's. So there.

So, to add insult to injury, one of my follicles has up and disappeared. Just gone. This has happened before, and an overly full bladder probably didn't help. Hopefully this one will re-appear, at a decent size this time. So, I am left with two, both at 11mm, but right ovary has woke up! Welcome to the party! Considering that the only time my right one got involved, we got pregnant with Son, this might actually be a good thing.

I've got a feeling that I'm going to get the call later on this afternoon to ratchet up the dose. Remarkably enough, I'm not upset. Realize that the last time that this happened I sobbed, almost uncontrollably, the entire 30 minute drive back to work. Now, I will admit that if things aren't a bit rosier after my appointment on Thursday, I may have to hit the chocolate. I'm going to be baking on Thursday, and, well, it could get ugly.

Oh, and to top it all off, the met is making me sick in the morning. God, I hate that stuff.

Chugging along

I had my first monitoring appointment today. I scheduled it for 7:15, and only managed to be 10 minutes late! Hooray. If I can swing it, I'll try to do this time more often. I didn't hit a whole lot of traffic (considering that I was in the midst of the downtown commuters), and it was virtually stress free!

As for the appointment itself, nothing on the right (as usual, lazy ovary!), and two at 10mm on the left. Lining sounds like it was OK. Pending my E2 levels coming back, I'm to keep going at 150iu until Monday, when we check things again. I'm always a slow responder, and my right side usually will do something, but never anything dominant. I consider this a test cycle anyway.

At least that's what I keep trying to tell myself. Husband has been uncharacteristically up about this whole thing, which is a little out of character for him. Usually its him trying to hold me down so I don't crash and burn when it all heads south. He made some comment this morning about how cool it would be if we were successful this cycle, with one, but he thinks two would be doable. (I'm not going there. Nope. Not unless it re-opens the whole house negotiation). The kicker was that he said that we would almost be like "normal" couples. We both then laughed. Like we are ever going to be "normal." I have to say that it is a nice change to be able to be guardedly optimistic with him.

Its a test cycle. Its a test cycle. Its a test cycle. Its a test cycle. Its a test cycle.

Keep chanting.....

Random scattering

My mind is wandering all over the place today. I keep hearing Yoda giving the lecture to Luke about not being focused...you know the one. That's where I am today. I've overly tired due to being sucked into CMT's 100 top love song show last night (yes, country is a guilty pleasure of mine...) and then waking up to Husband hacking, snorting, blowing, and moaning for a good couple of hours. It just makes it hard to focus. Maybe if I get it all out, then maybe I can get my head back where it needs to be.

• I think my secretary is looking for another job, and seriously this time. I noticed that she has removed all of the personal items from her cube (pictures, etc.). Due to some organizational weirdness, she doesn't report to me, but she does all of my support. With my case load, it isn't an insubstantial task. The work load has increased considerably, and there have been issues. Her manager has become involved, and we all know where this ends up. Hiring a replacement, if it comes to that, will probably take a while. Our HR doesn't get that anyone that does patent work is a specialist, and that in our market, there is a pretty high demand for anyone with experience. They won't pay what they need to, so we always end up with underqualified, inexperienced people. Not their fault, and some have worked out. I just have too much to do to have to try to wait for a new admin to get up to speed. I have a bad feeling that the new year will not be fun.
• I figured out what my problem was in giving myself my shot-bad lighting. I kid you not. I was thinking about how I did it before, and I remembered that I eventually stopped doing it in the bathroom because I just wasn't comfortable there. I went into our living room, got comfortable in my new chair, and things went without a hitch. Ha! First monitoring ultrasound and bloodwork is this Friday morning. Being, I don't know, stupid, I went into a due date calendar to see where I would end up if this were to work. The due date would be 10 days after Son's birthday. What am I thinking????
• Christmas is looming, and once again, I don't think that I will have time to do any of the things that I want to. I actually like to shop, but lugging Son around in the stroller, combating busy parking lots and stores, doesn't sound like what I need right now. I've ordered pretty much everything online this year. I got this nifty decorating kit from Pampered Chef, and I really wanted to try it out, but it looks like any baking is going to end up on the back burner. One of the few kitchen related tasks that Husband doesn't like to do.
• Husband has already launched into his "sick all winter" routine. First stop: sinus infection. He is going to have his first weekend off in seven weeks, and I think he will spend it in bed. This sucks. I know that he has been working hard (it helped when he figured out that he could take some days off during the week). However, I haven't had a day off to myself in what feels like forever. I was actually looking forward to us doing something together as a family. Looks like the only thing that will get shared is a box of Kleenex. Oh, and Son has a cold too. It gets depressing sometimes when they are both so high needs that no one ever can take care of me, or at a minimum, me take care of me. Like take a weekend nap. I struggle with how selfish that sounds, but I can't help but feel it. It goes back to this whole competition thing; his is always worse than mine, I lose.
• I'm stuck here tonight for our bimonthly staff call that goes until six. I didn't used to mind too much when I could sit in my office with my headset on and multitask. Now that our VP is here, we all get to congregate in a conference room together. And I have to stop at the mall and pet store on my way home, which means that I'll get to see Son for a whole 30 minutes before he goes to bed tonight. I've been missing him a lot during the day lately.

In general, just not a good day. I need a nap.

What a wimp!

Last night was the first night of Gonal-f. Watched the complimentary CD showing how gosh darn easy it was to use the pen. Really, it can't be that hard, right? I do have to say, it is a pretty big contraption, and when you have hands that require child-sized gloves (I'm not kidding-big fat fingers, but overall pretty dinky), try to poke and press without pushing the whole thing through your skin. Just a wee bit intimidating.

I assume my usual routine. Alcohol wipes? Check. Injection site picked? Check. Both the bedroom and bathroom doors closed so Husband can't see me? Check. (Don't ask, I just don't do this sort of thing well with an audience.) Proceed to sit in said bathroom for five minutes trying to psych myself up to just stick the damn thing in already!!!! Wimp out, get chastised by Husband for (1) not doing it myself and then (2) breathing too hard because I have managed to work myself up so much that he is now dealing with my stomach moving too much to put it in. He finally does it, I never even felt it go in due to the extremely fine gauge, and I slink back to the bathroom to make my contribution to the family sharps container.

Good God, why did I freeze up like that? I don't know if it was a case of the whole reality of this hitting, as in "oh my God, am I really doing this again? Are we ready for this? Am I ready flor this? Holy crap!...." You get the picture. I aspire to do much better tonight, especially now that I know the needle really is pretty tame. Typical me, work myself up sooo much that my fear far surpasses anything related to the reality of the situation. I really hate that I do that. However, spiraling out of control seems to be a strong suite of mine. Great.

The other thing that this whole thing demonstrated to me is that I can finally put my finger on why I get so irritated with Husband when it comes to stuff like this. First, I should probably preface this with the fact that Husband always, and I mean always has had things worse; pain, any situation, you name it. I don't know why it has to be a competition, but if he's trying to make me feel better, well, it ain't cutting it. I've pointed this out, only to see one great big spectacle of denial. He simply does not know how to just shut up and try to be empathetic. It would have been so great if he had just said that he knew I was a little freaked, and that he would count with me and we'd do it together. Not make me feel worthless and weak because I couldn't do it. I know that the problem is with me, but it doesn't help when he "can't understand" why I was having problems. Like I am the most irrational, stupid, and weak person. Just for the record, it took him 15 minutes to give himself the shot that he takes for his psoriasis the first time. Ah, the joys of selective memory.

This whole incident also brought back why my labor and delivery will not be one of the bright spots either. I'm not talking about the physical aspects, because there is NO way that is a bright spot. What I'm talking about is when I was trying to push my 9lb 2 oz, almost 23 inch long baby who hadn't rotated the way he was supposed to out, with an epidural that had taken away ALL sensation in my legs and perineal area (and the ability to even move anything below my waist) and the urge to push. Did he once say that I was doing OK? No. Did he sympathize when I literally dry-heaved on every push? No. What did he do? He criticized me for not "listening" and not doing what I was told. What? The freaked out nurse wasn't telling me when to push, and in the state that I was in, I couldn't tell from the monitor when it WAS the right time. All I knew was that (1) the epidural had robbed me of the urge, but had stopped working on the contractions and (2) I have never felt so alone in a room full of people before, especially feeling as vulnerable as I did. He thinks that yelling at me will get me to "snap out of it." All it does is make me retreat even further. It's that whole honey and vinegar thing. He does it at work, but apparently, that doesn't apply to me. If I would try to discuss it now, it would all be attributed to hormones. Is this just a chromosomal thing, or is he really that out of it?

I have to admit, this really scares me. What if the same thing happens again? Why can't he just stroke my hair or hold my hand and help me find the courage? Why? Why is that so tough? I think that he has forgotten how tough this whole thing can be; from conception to birth. I know that I haven't.

I guess that turned into a rant, but if anything, I need to remember this so if we actually are successful, I can make it abundantly clear what I need and expect. Either that or he pays for a duola. He's a good guy, he really is, and he can prop me up some days. I just wish it were more on my terms as opposed to exclusively on his. Accept me for my frailties. Starting down this road again has brought them all back, and I really don't want to feel broken again.

Like old shoes

I went into the RE today for the dreaded CD3 ultrasound. Yep, still hate the wand. Yuck. At least there wasn't a blood draw involved this time around. Even after having to go through everything last time, my aversion to needles carries on.

The ultrasound tech actually recognized me, and not much has really changed at the office. Well, for some reason the andrology patients go through there too (weird to see guys getting called back) now, but otherwise, not much of a change. I was told that I was the first to get to use the new ultrasound machines that were delivered today. Wahoo! Nice to see some sort of connection to the capital that I gave them. Otherwise, it was almost like it hadn't been two years since I had been there. Two years since I would sit in the parking lot and cry. How little I knew. While I truly want another child, I don't seem to have the same sort of desperation this time around. I can say that now, prior to going through the shots, the progesterone, getting AF right before I am supposed to go and get my beta. If that happens, it happens. I still get to come home to Son tonight, which is a lot better than some of the other women in the waiting room.

Mulling aside, nothing too spectacular on the ultrasound. Even though I have PCO, I don't struggle with having large cysts to manage. I guess that I just have all of the pieces of the syndrome itself which is enough to muck up the works. Regardless, it was good to hear that all was quiet, since I've been having some strange twinges where I think my ovaries are. (Don't laugh, I ovulate so infrequently that I don't know/remember how it feels.)

I was sent off with my laundry list of drugs, an instructional DVD regarding the Gonal-f pen (they didn't have those the last time around, although the needle looks a bit more intimidating than the old ones), and an appointment for Friday morning at 7:15. I have to take it that early in order to make it into work at a decent hour. It's a 30 minute drive on a good day, barring any accidents or snow. Leaving at 6:45 is going to be a stretch, but we've got to do it this way. Things are so much more complicated now that we have Son and I have a boss that is just across the hall from me. My admin is less than happy with me right now, so my chances of her covering for me are pretty slim. Let's just hope that it doesn't take quite as long this time....yea, yea, I know, but let me live in my fantasy for a while, OK??

It took 45 minutes to get my all of my prescriptions filled. I hate having to go to the pharmacy by my clinic, but they are the only pharmacy that can fill everything I need without a couple of days notice. The pharmacy is located between a large hospital and a large children's clinic, so they just tend to have everything. Out in suburbia, I usually get either (1) blank stares when they read Gonal-F ore (2) We don't carry it. Have you tried _____? Yep, sure have. Ugh. I'm going to have to get on the phone to see what my chances are to get things filled closer to home. I'm still not holding my breath.

So, I have a plastic bag full of the fun out in the trunk of the car. Let the games begin.

Why did I think this would work?

As I have mentioned ad nauseum, I want a new house. Something with a master suite, a fenced in yard, a yard the size that we can now handle, and an actual laundry room. Oh, and at least three bedrooms on one floor, and space for an office, whether it be a spare bedroom or a den.

Well, I did some searching yesterday during a unmotivated moment at work, and I found a great house. It didn't have a fenced in yard (since Black Dog is a wanderer at times, it would be nice), but it had four very nice sized bedrooms upstairs, as well as a laundry. No more schlepping laundry up and down the stairs. The real kicker was that the price was about $60k lower than I had seen on similar homes that didn't have the features that this one did.

I've been working on Husband about this for a while. We have really been struggling to keep our gigantic yard in check, and I fear that we are on our way to becoming the unkempt house on our street. An acre is a lot of work, even with a riding lawn mower. We were at a house over Thanksgiving where they had two largish dogs like we do, and the the lot was maybe a third of an acre. There was plenty of room for the dogs to do their thing, and it probably takes less than an hour to push mow. Something this size would mean more time for us, less time on the lawn and upkeep. I was elated. I finally had found the right argument that would appeal to his senses.

Feeling a little too sure of myself, and unexpectedly secure in my advocacy skill, I endeavored to show Husband this little gem last night. I wanted to broach this discussion at some point. Figuring out our housing situation was one of the things on the short checklist that I had prior to having another baby. Now, mind you, I don't hold a great deal of optimism for this cycle, because, well, things never work that way for us. I fully expect to have to spend the entire $5000 elected for my FSA next year. However, the planner in me was worried about the what ifs. What if we ARE successful this time? What if we end up with multiples? Granted, both items are a bit on the improbable side, but to loosely follow Spock's reasoning, even the improbable has possibilities. (OK, so I mangled the analogy, but true Trekkies will get it.) Getting back to my checklist, I had decided a while ago that we can't play fast and loose with the realities of what another child will mean. We just can't. With Son, we had the luxury of some flexibility. Not so much this time. I simply couldn't allow us to enter this endeavor without some sort of discussion.

So I broach it with Husband. I had a whole little script in my head, how I would contain the conversation, and not let it get heated. As usual, I was so incredibly wrong. The Reader's Digest version goes like this: Husband hates the idea, doesn't want to move, we can't afford it (um, yes we can, you might just have to give up a couple of small things), I'm not making any sense, it's a stupid idea, lots of crying, me giving in (as usual).

I am so incredibly disappointed. Husband doesn't want to leave this house, even though it is obvious to me and any other person that I have talked to that we have simply outgrown this house. Our life has changed from the childless, cat owner, lots of spare time variety to a small family of cat and dog owning, toddler chasing, with absolutely no spare time and fighting over who mowed the lawn last (oh that one is the doozey of them all) life. His big thing is that we can't afford it, but yet he thinks that if we add on, all of our problems will be solved. We can do a bunch of it ourselves. I hate to be a bitch here, but the bathroom that he started before Son was born is JUST NOW getting a ceiling. I'm not talking a palace here, just an 6x7 3/4 bath. What the hell would he do with a whole new part of the house?? If I could ever get him to sit down and do the math, I don't think that we would come out any more ahead. I'm sick and tired of always having to try to make due with things that ultimately won't fit the need.

So, in the end, we both feel like we lost, he accused me of being, let's see, stupid, overly emotional, I need to get back on meds because obviously I am out of control because I got upset and actually felt something. He's pulling the whole "woe is me" crap, and nothing changed. All that happened is that we hurt each other, and nothing was even remotely resolved.

Just as a disclaimer, I know that we are lucky to have what we have. I know that. However, I work my tail off, and it wasn't easy getting here either, so just once I want to have something that I want, and I'm sick of always being the one to compromise and give in. It just ends up taking pieces of your soul that you never get back.

Didn't see that one coming

As I was digging through the stacks and stacks of paper that we have accumulated this past weekend, I came across some mail that Husband, as usual, had not shown me. This irritates me to no end, since I am the only one who ever does anything with the mail, either by sorting before it gets in the house and dumping it into the recycling, or actually, gasp!!, paying the bills that show up.

Anyway, a little piece of information came from my previous OB/GYN exam. Dr. Newbie had run a full blood panel, including cholesterol, HDL, LDL, etc. I had confessed that I hadn't had the levels checked in probably something like 15 years. Lo and behold, they ALL came back NORMAL! OK, so the happy dance should be tempered a bit by the fact that they were a little on the high end of normal, but I was at least 5 points below the cutoff for most of the areas, if not more. Hooray!

I know that they aren't as good as they can be, but you must remember that that last time I had my cholesterol checked, I was at 210. This time it was 190. Still not hall of fame worthy, but better. While the scale has yet to be encouraging, at least one thing is going in the positive direction. I even have my gym bag packed and under my desk as we speak. Let's see if I can make the 30 yard trip to the small gym here at work.

Back on the infertility trail

Well, we started off things to do a cycle in December yesterday. Due to our Thanksgiving travels, I wasn't able to get my progesterone draw done until yesterday. It came back at...0.56. That little fantasy that Dr. RE and I had about me maybe spontaneously ovulating is shot to hell. Oh well, no big deal, it's what we expected.

Now that we have the all-clear, I've started on my lovely Provera. God, how I hate that stuff. I was reading the patient information sheet from Target, and do you realize that this stuff is used to treat cancer? It looks like such an innocent white pill.

After feeling like absolute crap this morning, I started to think about how I would rate the overall cruddiness of infertility meds. Let's do this Letterman style, shall we?

6. Gonal-F: Other than the whole sitting on the toilet shooting yourself up bit, it really isn't that bad. A sub-q injection. Since the last time that we did this, they have that new-fangled pen that you can use to adjust the dose. I actually enjoyed my visits back to my good 'ol lab days in college.

5. Provera: Usually not too bad, as for the drug itself (although I think I need to blame the lovely wave of nausea this morning to it), but the end result periods are usually horrible. Now, granted, since I am a PCOS patient, I'm not used to "normal" periods, but when I have a Provera induced one, all I want to do is crawl under the covers with a heating pad and stay in a fetal position until it is over. Oh, and have the largest bottle of Advil that they make.

4. Metformin/Glucophage: Prior to this go-round, this would have ranked higher, but it hasn't been too bad this time around. My regular doctor originally wrote the prescription for bumping up the dose over a series of three months. Normally I would agree. This stuff sends my entire digestive system into an absolute revolt, especially for the week that I up the dosage. However, it seems better this time, so I'm going to try to go up to 1000mg on Friday and see how it goes. On the cycle when we conceived Son, one of the members of my category over at TLOL gently urged that I really should stick with the Met, since it really can make a difference in the number of follicles that you get. I begrudgingly listened, and lo and behold, my response to the Gonal-F perked up immediately. I still think that I owe Lauren for the advice and kick in the rear.

3. Bravelle: O.M.G. Hurt like hell going in, no response (at all) for all of the hell.

2. HCG Trigger: The trust that the administration of this shot requires is monumental. Husband, armed with one huge gauge needle, gives this bad boy to me. Where I can't see what he is doing. I hate it. He was initially too scared to give it in my "hip", afraid for some reason that he would hit bone. (If anyone has ever seen my "hip" they would understand that it is probably anatomically impossible, but thanks for the vote of confidence Hon.) He would do it in my thigh. Hurt going in, and the noticeable limp for the next three days didn't help. He finally got brave after we did the thigh shot, with our cleaning lady vacuuming the hallway outside of our bedroom, and he didn't pull it out fast enough. Enough pressure built up that when he finally did, oh so slowly and carefully removed the needle, that we had a fountain of blood that shot up a good six inches in the air. He instinctively put his finger over it, looking like the nursery rhyme about the dam, with a terrified look on his face. While it was scary at the time, we both laugh about it now.

1. Progesterone Suppositories: I HATE these things. I know that I need them, but I HATE them. They are so irritating, messy, you name it. With Son, I had to keep using them until I was 12 weeks. Almost four months worth of these things. I had so much fun with the irritation that developed into a four alarm yeast infection and being in the first trimester and feeling crappy overall. I grew a new appreciation for any child that is left in a soggy diaper for longer than they should be. YUCK. The other alternative is PIO, and there is no way that I am doing that unless I have to. IM's every day for weeks? For those of you that have had to do it, I salute you.

So, there is my list. Contribute if you like.

If I don't keep a sense of humor about all of this, I'm sunk. At least I learned one thing from the four years of trying to get Son.

Thanksgiving is going to be a turkey

Ahhh, my plans for a couple of quiet days at home as a family have been shredded. Damn.

I was all optimistic about the three of us actually getting some time together. Husband can take Thursday and Friday off, these being the first days off in over month. I went out and bought this tiny little turkey breast, and the miscellaneous other stuff that we both like. I thought, great, we can sleep in, take a nap, get some things done on the domestic front, and just reconnect. I also had my progesterone draw scheduled for Friday morning. Hooray, I thought, Husband will be home to take care of Son, so I don't have to (1) haul him to Dr. RE's office and try to wrangle him and get poked and (2) I also wouldn't have to subject the other women in the waiting room to his antics. I admit it, I was one of the haters of anyone who would bring in their kid to a lab or ultrasound appointment when I was struggling to just have one.

As usual, my plans are blown to smithereens. Husband relayed our abandonment by our respective families to a friend of his, and his friend, being a nice guy, suggested that we come down and spend the day with his family. (They have adopted us before under similar circumstances). Unfortunately, to finalize our adoption, we get to drive for four hours. We're used to it, but still.

I understand why Husband wants to go, I honestly do. If he is out of state, then his work can't call and drag him in. He can basically tell them to deal with whatever is going on. All of the shifts are covered, and it is going to be quiet. He will still have to work this weekend (the sixth one is a row, mind you) but he still gets a respite. This is his best friend, and he needs this type of time. Their respective favorite football team is playing on Thursday night, so they can sit, drink beer, and swear at them together. Husband doesn't even mind that it is on a 25" TV as opposed to getting the game in HD on our 52". I get it. Need decompression time. I just wish that it could be more with us as a family. Son misses him, I know it. Since the weekend gig isn't looking to change anytime soon, I guess that we'll just have to adjust.

We were planning on visiting our new niece (born on Monday) on Friday as well, and it's on the way, so we were looking at time on the road anyway. I guess it would be nice to not have to stare at the devastation that is currently my house for a couple of days. However, it still puts me in the mode of having to devote the entire weekend to just trying to catch up. Oh, and I get to spend tonight getting animals ready for someone to come over and watch them. I've been too busy and tired to get up the energy to try to take the more spazzy of our two dogs in to get his shots, and now they are out of date, so no kennel. That's probably OK, since it usually adds up to around $100 for a couple of days. With Christmas coming, every $100 counts.

I'm just tired, and I miss my Husband. My Son misses my Husband. I know that he needs this for his mental health. I know, I know. I'm just getting a little worried about my own.

The good things

I'm still not in a good place about my health. I received a comment that (a) pissed me off and (b) got me thinking. More on that later.

Just because things have been on the crappy side lately, there are some good things going on. First of all, Son has finally cut his second molar (at least the tips are through) so Mr. Crabby Pants might go on hiatus for a while. These molars have been really tough on him. He kept signing what we thought was "more"and we couldn't figure out what he wanted...umm, he was actually showing "hurt." Dumb parents. Pass the Motrin....

Secondly, Son and I were able to sleep in until...drumroll please....9:30 on Sunday morning. I honestly haven't been able to sleep that late since I was six months pregnant with Son! He woke up around 5:15 when he heard Husband get up to go to work, and just wouldn't settle back down. I finally caved into my own exhaustion, and brought him to bed with me. I don't do it very often, but I really didn't want to deal with Son CIO. I just couldn't this time. Anyway, he fell asleep on top of me. I slid him off, and he immediately snuggled in, little ice cube feet tucked under me. We both were out. It was so nice to wake up and see him there, and be able to hear him breathing, knowing he was content. This kid loves a good pillowtop, I tell you. Funny thing is, when he sleeps with me, he always flips over on his back. He never does that in his crib. When he finally woke up, he pulled on the covers, and grins up at me like he was being such a big boy. He then sits up, pokes at me, and signs that he wants to eat. Off we go to make waffles and just hang out. Even though Husband hasn't been home on a weekend morning for over a month, we had fun anyway.

That's one of those morning that I will have to tuck away in the memory.

NOW I get it....

I printed off my previous post to show to Husband. It seemed to me that he should know how I'm feeling about all of this. After all, he was the one stuck with the hysterical wife on a bad cell phone connection on Friday.

And his response? You know, to the whole soul-bearing thing? My effort to open up to him a bit more? (He's made comments about how I seem to have pulled away from him. When I mentioned that turning 35 really bothered me, he mumbled "Good thing that I knew about that...").

He went right back to watching TV. Told me it was too late to begin a conversation about this. Oh, but after the TV went off, it wasn't too late to try to get a little somethin' somethin'.

Now I get it. Provide unconditional love and never-ending support. Check. Be available for on-demand sex, even when I have made it clear that this cold that I have is wiping me out. Check. Just don't expect anything reciprocal. Glad we cleared that up. So happy that I allowed myself to be vulnerable. But now I get it.

Come tumblin' down, the walls...

My apologies to Mr. Mellencamp, but it just seem appropriate. It's been a long weekend, and not in the good sense. This could be the withdrawal from the Prozac (cold turkey wasn't that smart of an idea), but I've been struggling the last couple of days. It's not one or two things that are driving me nuts, but a whole host that just seems to have reached critical mass. The explosion doesn't look to be very pretty.

As part of Dr. RE's plan, I scheduled and had my lovely yearly GYN appointment. God, how I hate them. If I wanted an appointment in the next century, I had to go with one of the new doctors that they have recently added the practice. The doc that I have been dealing with for my PPD (Dr. Perfect) and the last 10 weeks of my pregnancy with Son was booked out over a month. What can I say, I like to think that I play with the popular kids.

Anyway, I ended up taking the appointment with the new doc. She was really nice, actually knew something about PCOS (imagine!!), and, get this, actually read my chart. How cool is that? She even told me that Dr. Perfect had been checking my TSH levels in the past. Didn't know that. Well, we do the exam. Have to say, she was great with the speculem part of it-I didn't even know that she had done it! Two points for doc. I might allow her near me again with one of those damn things.

Then, she just did her job. You know, upholding the whole Hippocratic oath. Which promptly caused me to fall apart in the car as I was leaving, yell at Husband, who only partially had it coming, and just basically dissolve into a heap. Yes, several of my finer moments of late. Usually I would only reserve a breakdown of this magnitude when leaving the RE's office. But rage I did. It was the first time in months that I have actually cried. I have to say, it was not cathartic in the least.

The whole thing that triggered the meltdown was that she went into some depth on how PCOS can affect me in ways other than infertility. She didn't say anything that little Ms. researcher that I am, didn't know. How my chances for diabetes are a lot higher, and combined with my GD, I'm even more at risk. Cholesterol issues (have to admit that I had blown that one off...I haven't had a cholesterol check in over a decade). Heart disease. Increased risk for stroke, which is unsettling since both my grandmother and great-grandmother ultimately died from strokes. Basically, I have to get my shit together or I'm going to die early, or at best, have to deal with a long list of maladies. Add that on top of the whole turning 35 issue, where I saw a sign in the restroom saying that I need to get a baseline mammogram, and it just felt completely overwhelming. Like I will never, ever, be able to do anything that makes a damn difference.

All of the years of battling the weight, battling the infertility, just plain battling, seem to come down at once. I know what I need to do. I do. I've educated myself. However, that knowledge doesn't seem to get me anywhere. I'm pissed at myself, hate myself, hate looking in the mirror. I can't believe my husband when he says that he's still attracted to me. I just can't buy it. I know what he sees, what he feels, and I would be repulsed. I don't know why he keeps coming back for more. A lot of other men would have just walked away.

All of this just makes me believe that I have no right to subject another baby to having me as a mother. All of the things that could go wrong. I could say that no, we won't try in December like we had been talking about, since I am in no position physically to do this again. That we'll wait until March and that will give me some time to drop the weight, remember what a treadmill looks like. Then I think that I have been down this path before, before I had a child to take care of, when it was just me, and I failed miserably. I had four years to get this right before I had Son, and I didn't fix it then either. How on earth am I going to be able to do this now? Between being a part-time single mom (not Husband's fault), doing the work of essentially two people with little hope of relief, and just trying to do the basic stuff at home (where I am making NO progress), I don't have a lot of hope that anything can really change. Oh, maybe a couple of weeks worth, but after that, it all goes back to the same as it was before. I get to add yet another failure to the long, and not-so-distinguished list.

I know that I have nothing but a litany of what others outside would deem excuses, and I don't know what to do.
1. I don't have time to exercise. Honestly, I don't know where it would come from. I pick Son up from daycare between 5:30 and 6:00. It's a roughly 30 min drive home. Feed Son, try to load the dishwasher or fold some laundry, or gee, have a meal myself, give Son bath, put Son in bed, and lo and behold, it's 8:30 and the last thing that I want to do is haul my ass to the gym. Husband keeps harping on that I should work out at work before I go home. Due to the different time zones I have to deal with, knocking off before 5:00 really can't happen. So that gives me a whole 30 minutes, if I'm lucky. I guess that 30 minutes is better than nothing, but it just feels like another obligation, and then I have to rush and pray that I can get to daycare on time. I hate having Son being the last kid there. It just feels lonely to me. The other option is that I go when I get home. And that will work how? Husband has been the walking dead lately, so I don't feel like I can impose on him to take care of Son while I go to the gym. He's been busting his ass for the past three weeks without any time off, and I go to the gym? That doesn't seem fair either. If I ever could go, I wouldn't get to see Son at all. I can't go in the morning since Husband leaves for work at 6:15. Who would take care of Son?

2. The whole diet thing just never, ever works. Ever. I'm 35, and I think that I have spent 30 of those years trying to be the right size. It's never worked. I can't count the number of times I cried in elementary school, or agonized over whether to tell my Mom about what the yearly height and weight check had revealed. I'm in such a cycle of failure I can't seem to ever get off of it. Plus, I have to admit, food is the only way that I can reward myself without anyone else getting a say. I guess that in the end all it has done is hurt me.

I'm so frustrated and pissed at the whole thing. The only person that this needs to be squarely aimed at is me. I'm the only one that has done this to myself. I'm looking down the tunnel, and I'm not seeing any light. I've never shied away from working hard for anything else, so why can't I just get it together and do this? I'm frustrated that the rational, always cautious me says, quite loudly, that I need to wait. Wait some more. Just eat less stupid. The small child in me screams, stamps my feet, and says, "NO!! I've had to wait for EVERYTHING and I'm sick of having to be patient. I'm sick of having to bow to everyone else's demands. SCREW YOU, I'M GOING TO DO WHAT I WANT FOR A CHANGE!!"

Lastly, I'm scared. I've always been scared of death, and I can't imagine what it will be like when confronted with it. So scared that I can't seem to move lest it find me. Scared that I won't get to see my Son as an adult. I just feel so trapped by all of the failures and the demands. This is stuff that regular adults handle all of the time. That the fitness profiles in Shape can overcome. Just once, why can't it be me?

When kids go and beg for candy (and the parents get it!)

After much hemming and hawing, we finally decided last night to take Son out trick or treating. It was cold as, well, choose your colorful metaphor, and we didn't know about dragging Son out in it. However, since the wind finally died down, and we have a smallish neighborhood, we decided to go out and brave the elements. The matching outfits on Husband and Son were pretty cute too.

Son, for the most part, wasn't real invested in either direction. He smiled and waved bye-bye, and tried to get into everyone's houses. An open door means that you get to come in, right? He was pretty good overall though. The only downside is that since we all went out, we missed most of the neighborhood kids that would have come to our house. Not intended, but it just happened. Husband insisted that I go with, so I wasn't ablet o stay home and take care of the home fires. My plan for next year is to dress up one of the dogs to come with as well. Black Dog as a devil is pretty darn cute. He just refuses to keep the horn headband on. I'll probably need a year to figure out how to circumvent the paw swipe that he has mastered.

Regardless, I'm happy that we took him out. One of those parent things that I was looking forward to.

Paranoia 0, Reality 1

The visit with Dr. RE went remarkably better than I anticipated. Of course, all of my worries were the product of my over-active, trained to always look for the possible risk, brain. There are times when being an eternal pessimist can work in your favor; in this case, I got to be pleasantly surprised.

Even though Dr. RE was over an hour late, he spent about 45 minutes with us. Part of it was follow-up from our successful cycle. How did the pregnancy go, delivery, etc.? He wasn't surprised about the GD due to my PCO. He was looking through my file as we were talking, and he was kind enough to point out that Son was the result of our fifth cycle of injectibles. Fifth. Now that I am sort of removed from the whole thing, that number sort of shocks me. It certainly didn't feel like we had been through the ringer that many times. That isn't counting the five cycles of useless clomid that we did with my OB/GYN either.

He has labeled me as clomid-resistant. Big surprise there. Only ovulated once on 150 mgs. We both agreed, without a whole lot of discussion, that he won't subject me to that again. Believe it or not, I actually felt worse on Clomid than on 150 umg of Gonal-F. The plan (oh God, we have a plan!) is for me to come in and get a progesterone draw sometime after Thanksgiving just to make sure that I haven't spontaneously ovulated (like that would ever happen), and then he would give me a prescription for 7 days of Provera. Come if for a baseline sometime on days 1-3, get my drugs, and off we go. The only issue about doing a cycle in December is that they close on Christmas Day (bastards, want a holiday off, the gall!), and he doesn't want that to be one of the days that we would need to do an IUI. Just be safe, since we aren't going to be able to go anywhere for Thanksgiving, I might just get the blood draw right before Thanksgiving.

The only negative that he brought up was that since I am one of the infinitesimally small group that doesn't respond predictably to Gonal-F, we may need to play with the dosage again. That was the part that really wasn't that pleasant last time. On the cycle before we conceived Son, I was extremely close to developing OHSS. The scary thing was that we had just adjusted the dosage a small amount after a less than optimum response the cycle before.

Soooo....I guess that we are back in the saddle again. He didn't seem concerned about my age (yet). He did make the disclaimer about the increased risk of multiples. I've accepted that a long time ago. For him, it seemed to be a bigger deal because of the two OB ultrasounds that he had done that day (both for IVF patients), the outcomes had been twins and triplets. Both had only two embryos transferred. He said the twins patient was OK, but the triplets one, well, they were struggling a bit. How strange to have one set of identical twins, with a fraternal thrown in. I know that it happens, but still. I think that I would be freaked out with anything more than twins. I know from Blogland that twins carry their own risks, but more than that seems to raise the stakes even higher. He also pointed out that when we conceived Son, we had four mature follicles. Basically, the subtext was that we dodged the multiple bullet that time, but not to think that we would necessarily do it again.

All in all, it went well. Son was an angel through the extended wait, and was even better once we got into the office. I'm still a little scared to contemplating all of this again, but every time I look into those big blue eyes, I know that he needs a sibling. One way or the other.

Into the fire

OK, my ampedness (OMG, is that a word??) about our appointment with Dr. RE has now turned to a whole lot of anxiety. Almost a panic.

To assuage my anguish, I need to get this down just to show myself how absolutely silly I'm being. Oh, and for some idiotic reason, overly optimistic.

I'm just, well, nervous. Nervous that Dr. RE is going to say that now that I have graduated into the "advanced maternal age" category (I turned 35 earlier this month), that we are going to have to deal with even more crap. That cheaper IUIs may be of limited use to us. That he thinks we need to go to IVF, and since I'm so damn huge, I'll need to find another clinic. (They won't do retrievals in the office for someone of my size due to possible anesthesia complications. They could do it over at the hospital across the street, but they have experienced lower success rates when they have to walk the eggs through the tunnel under the street to their lab.)

I'm feeling a little panicky in that all of the weight that I had lost initially after I had Son is now back (gratefully I don't have to say "plus more") and that was one thing that Dr. RE had harped on the last time that we went through this. Basically, I'm not ready physically to do this again. I swore last time that I wouldn't go into another pregnancy out of shape or at my present weight. Part of it was based on vanity-try finding plus size materinity clothes that don't look like giant hefty bags. Oh, and since I'm short, everything was waaaaay too long. The other part was that because I didn't have any endurance before I had Son, I really think that it impacted my ability to deliver him. Now granted, I get to cut myself some slack because he didn't turn the way that he was supposed to. If I remember correctly, he was facing to my right. My OB kept telling me that it would have been tough for anyone to deliver without some sort of help. However, I can't help but believe that since I didn't have any endurance, that I was so tired, I couldn't muster the strength to get him out myself. That's why we had to use the vacuum, and because it was so tough, he will always have a calcified lump on his skull. Yes, it was that traumatic for him. I've felt guilty since I first saw the huge black and blue mark on his otherwise adorable little noggin.

I guess maybe it comes down to the worry/fear of being judged again. That I can't function like a normal woman. I was "normal" only when I was pregnant. After that, I went back to my dysfunctional self. I had managed to put away a lot of those feelings after I had Son. After all, it didn't matter anymore. I had Son. To open up that wound again just goes to show that I didn't deal with everything before. Sigh.

I'm just hoping that Dr. RE will agree that we can try the IUIs again. Also, that we can take one shot in December to use up that FSA money that I haven't spent. If that one doesn't work, then we wait until around March to get my act together, get back on my Metformin (oh, the joys of working my way up on the dosage...yuk). Oh, and the fact that if it would work this spring, I wouldn't be hugely pregnant during the summer. Of course, I'm being optimistic, but I can't think of any other way to be. Otherwise, what's the point?

I've got so much cycling in my brain right now that I could sit and write for hours and still not have it all down. Unfortunately, I don't get that kind of time. My office is about ready to explode at the seams, and I don't know if my digging out is actually doing anything but digging me a deeper hole.

Let's just hit the highlights.

Home Alone: the Husband and Son Story: Ugh. Little stinker was an angel. No temper tantrums, went to bed with nary a howl. Husband is looking at me like I am nuts...this is really easy! On the one hand, I'm happy that it went well. At least then I can go ahead and do some of the travel that I need to over this winter for work. On the other, I really wanted Husband to get that this isn't always easy to do by yourself. Didn't happen. Of course, he bent Son's schedule all to hell, and he is only now beginning to get back into the regular routine. Waking up at 5:20 on Saturday morning was not fun!

Debauchery Unlimited: Had a good time at my meetings, but had WAAAAAAY too much fun on one night. Seems like I tried to make up for all of that lost time away from alcohol. Put it this way, my actions on one night kept haunting me until this weekend. Stupid. I'm actually pretty embarrassed and really hope that this doesn't have repercussions further down the line. Not that I did anything other than get completely schnockered, but it wasn't my finest hour. Thank God that I was with people that I trust completely.

Down the Infertility Path: Part II: I'm getting a little amped up about our appointment with Dr. RE in a week. The more I look at Son, the more I can't wait to see him with a sibling. I'm a little worried that we may have to change the appointment though. Husband has been royally screwed (to not put too fine of a point on it) by two employees in the past week, so I don't know if he will be able to make the appointment. I really want him to be there. I hate his job sometimes, but I know that he loves it. It just is going to be a tough haul for a while.

There's other, more profound topics brewing, but I don't know if I'll be able to get to them. For the time being, I've got an appointment with PowerPoint. Oh, the fun never ends!

What was I thinking?

I'm an idiot. Really. I once again wasted money on a pregnancy test. What was I thinking? That I could be freakin' normal like other people? Dumb, dumb, dumb. To get all lawyerly, ...in order to avoid all doubt...BFN. I'm not upset per se, since I got to enjoy some libations last night, but damnit, I really had hoped that I might get cut some slack here. I guess that the cosmic winds just aren't in my favor.

So, we keep the appointment with the RE and see where we go from here. I know that I'm ready to do this again (Ok, so who is ever really ready?), but I wish that we didn't have to be so clinical about it. We laugh when we talk about the fact that we barely saw each other the day that Son was conceived. Seriously, Husband left home at 7AM, and I didn't see him until 7PM that night, after the IUI. Just doesn't seem right or fair.

I guess what this has brought home is just how scared I am that we won't be able to do this again. Or worse, we will, and something will go wrong. I've been fortunate to never have had to deal with a loss, and I hope that I never do. It just makes me realize how fraught with challenges and hurdles this whole thing is. How it truly is a miracle each and every time a child is conceived, and then is delivered into the world.

All we can do at this point is see what the RE says, but I don't expect much of a departure from the last time we did this. Nothing has really changed from a status point of view, so I'm sure that it will be off to do new bloodwork (yuk), an appointment with the wand, and some provera to get a real period. Looks like we would have enough in the good 'ol FSA to do something yet this year. Husband is completely on board, which is nice, but things will be a bit more complicated than before. I don't know how we will juggle the appointments and daycare, etc. Daycare is in a completely opposite direction from the RE's office, and Husband's work is even further in the opposite direction. So, I most likely will get to battle traffic coming and going, and Son is going to be spending a lot of time in the carseat.

The things that we do. Ugh. Well, I've had another case of insomnia, and now I think that I'm finally ready to go back to bed. The alarm goes off in an hour. It's gonna be a long day.

Note to self: no caffeine after 7PM

Ugh, sitting here, can't sleep, have to be on a plane tomorrow morning. Why did the Coke seem like such a good idea again?

I think that besides the caffeine coursing through my veins, I'm a little nervous about leaving Son for this long. Very nervous. I was gone for a few hours this afternoon, and I couldn't believe how much I missed him. What am I going to do when it is a few days??

Husband is beginning to get exactly how much work Son can be. He (Son) is currently is full toddler mode-including temper tantrums-and Husband doesn't quite get it that this is NORMAL. They both are going to have a significant learning curve here. I know that they'll be fine. Really. But he's my baby. And this is Mommy's first time away from home. Husband has admitted that he is nervous about the entire thing. He hates it when I'm gone period, but this will be even worse.

Did I mention that we're also missing our anniversay for the second year in a row? Ugh. We probably should have tried to do something for it this weekend, but I have to sadly admit that neither one of us thought of it. How messed up is that? I'm going to order some flowers for Husband so he'll have something on Tuesday. I've already thought up the note to go with it (what else to do when you're laying there completely awake?) He already has given me my gift, an opal pendant, so I'm not expecting anything else. So this year we are 0-2 when it comes to me; he was gone on my birthday, and now I'm gone on our anniversary.

I guess you could say that our gift to each other is the appointment with our lovely RE on the 30th. Another thing to keep my mind occupied when it is supposed to be sleeping. I have a good feeling that we will need it, since all of the things that I described in my last post have pretty much dissapated. I'm still going to test tomorrow morning, but it will only be to erradicate that little spectre of hope that had been lurking in the corner of my mind.

Well, gonna go and play with the kittens.

I hate it when I start thinking

OK, I'm looking for input here....

Here's the deal:

• haven't had a non-pharmacologically induced period since I got pregnant with Son back in Nov. 04
• started weaning about six weeks ago. We're down to one feeding before bed, and I've been limiting him to five minutes per side. Cold turkey will result in grumpy toddler and mommy
• started spotting very lightly (not enough to even merit a (TMI) panty liner
• spotting went on for about 10 days, but never amounted to anything remotely resembling a flow
• I am still periodically feeling crampy and achey like a full blown nasty period is coming on, but nothing even resembling it has shown up. It's been so long I think that I may have forgotten what it's like.
• have been waking up for the past week urgently needing potty breaks at between 2-3 AM (now I'm the one that can't sleep through the night! )
• despite efforts to reduce supply, I was horribly engorged last night.
  

BOTTOM LINE: Could the unthinkable possibly have happened and we may have, ummm, done it all on our own? For the record (TMI again) I had EWCM about three weeks ago.
I really need a sanity check here. I'm afraid to test and be disappointed, I'm afraid to test and be surprised. I'm also going out of town for most of next week, and some serious ingestion of alcohol is on the agenda. I would hate to do something that I might regret.

In my heart of hearts, I strongly suspect that this is just wishful thinking. To be able to avoid the ultrasounds, the shots, the not seeing each other the day we conceive our child, the expen$e. I don't know what to think. I was just talking to Husband, and mentioned that I had to get up yet AGAIN last night, and he sounded hopeful when he asked if might be pregnant. God, I hate disappointing him....

WWFD? (What would Freud do?)

After months of virtually no dreams thanks to my friend Prozac (TM), I am now having them with abandon. Which is OK, since I know that they are the brain's way of organizing and categorizing. But I'll be damned if I can figure out what the hell they mean. I've gone from curios to almost ticked off. Over my own dreams! There, everyone can know that I'm seriously off the normal scale.

Just for kicks, here is a somewhat hazily-remembered list from the past week:

• The meaning of this one is obvious. I'm busy cleaning my house, and generally organizing (for some reason I am doing this alone, which is a strange occurrence in and of itself). The reason for the cleaning? I'm going to die. Not if I don't do the cleaning, but rather, I'm about to die, as in that very day, and I want the house to be OK. My dream extra family keeps telling me to stop, because I have to go to the hospital so I can go to sleep. I ask, "what if I don't wake up?" No one answers me. Flash to a futuristic hospital, actually looked like one out of an episode of "Firefly," and I'm being checked in by Husband so I can go to bed and fall asleep, AKA die. Everyone was treating it so nonchalantly; like this is what was supposed to happen. The whole thing shook me up so much that it's taken me a couple of days to get it out of my head. Probably shouldn't watch ER before going to bed.
• The next one I don't get. I'm with my ex, and for once, I can completely see his face, body, the whole thing. Usually when he pops up, I just know that it is him, but I never see his face. Anyway, I'm getting married, to him. My maid of honor is the one in the full veil and dress, but I know that I'm the one getting married. We are just about to start the vows, and a relative (another dream extra) stops the whole thing and tells me that he needs to talk to me. He then goes into a litany of all of the things that will happen as we would age, change in hair, face, etc. None of this is relevant to the Ex. I know exactly what he looks like, I know what his parents look like, and none of what dream extra guy is telling me is worth anything. I bolt from the whole thing and then shift to climbing up and over a grassy hill with my parent behind me, with me telling them, in a rather exasperated tone, that I'm going to marry him-and that's final. Then I wake up. Usually, when I have these dreams, I always end up asking where is Husband? Like I know that I'm supposed to be with him. This time it didn't happen. Have I finally processed all that happened with Ex and I can finally let it go?

Needless to say, after not dreaming for a very long time, I'm a little baffled by the whole thing. They have kept on coming, fast and furious, for the past week. I'm exhausted. The thing that sucks is that while I know that my mind needs to do this, I always end up feeling like I have been awake the entire time that I was dreaming. They always seem that real to me.

Nothing really weird has happened in the past couple of days, but I'm waiting. Didn't know that my issues were so screwed up.

Gulp.

Here's the short version:

• Freaked out about turning 35. For some reason this is a big deal to me. I think I've read too much about how fertility takes a definite downturn in normal fertiles at this point.
• Freaked out again about turning 35 and being an infertile.
• Called Dr. RE yesterday and have an appointment on the 30th.

Gulp.

Does this mean that I am really serious about the whole issue of a #2 entering our lives? Yes, I believe so. I highly doubt that we will do anything yet this year. I still need to get off of my happy pills, and I really want to wean Son completely. However, if we have enough in the good 'ol FSA to take a shot in December, I might just go for it.

Now I just have to tell Husband that I made the appointment. He has said pretty much all along that this would be my decision (can we say coward?). I know that he is trying to make me be able to feel OK about the possibility of not being able to create another miracle. He is trying to protect me. However, it still feels like I have all of the responsibility here. But then again, I am the one who gets to be poked, prodded, and violated with an ultrasound wand on a regular basis.

However, the more that I think about it, the more that I want to do this.

Gulp.

*sniff*snuffle*honk*...Repeat

OK, so where is it written that the Mommy is the one that gets the cold without the help of Son or Husband? Where? I have managed to pick up one doozey, and I feel lousy. I suppose that I could blame hanging out with a little over 63,000 people last weekend (the Vikings game), but that won't help me much with my viral finger pointing.

Yuck. So this morning, after waking up with a head that was so clogged up I couldn't breathe let alone see, I trudged into work with the following: box of tissue with the good lotion, a bottle of orange juice, a Krispy Kreme (with sprinkles), and a banana/chocolate muffin. What a vision. I probably shouldn't be here, but since I was out on Monday and Tuesday at continuing education classes, I feel a little obligate. Plus, Husband is taking today off since he has to work all weekend, so I know that I wouldn't get a whole lot of rest today. I did manage to sleep until 7:00 this morning (oops), but I cringe to think how I would be feeling if I didn't.

So, this leaves me looking forward to the weekend with gusto. Sick, husband working, alone with Mr. Wiggles, and my parents coming down on Sunday morning. Guess that I'll have to stop at Target on the way home for more tissue.....*sniff* Someone needs to step up and take care of the Mommy!!

How easily I forget

As I mentioned a while ago, I haven't had a real, honest-to-goodness period in almost two years. Yep, two years. Haven't missed it a bit. Well, to be honest, I wasn't missing much because I usually didn't have them on a regular basis anyway due to the PCO.

Anyway, I noticed that I was spotting a bit yesterday, and it has continued on today. Not enough to warrant really doing anything about it, but just enough to remind me of how much I really don't miss this entire process. I have a monster headache, I'm exhausted, and things are achey. I know that it is probably a good thing. My body is letting me know that the weaning process is proceeding, and I'm that many steps closer to getting my body back. It is also probably telling me that getting off of my butt and onto the treadmill has been a good thing. I would tend to agree, although at only two weeks of doing it I don't think I have earned any medals yet. All in all, I suppose that it really comprises the last steps to getting back to my pre-baby "normalcy." I just wish that I didn't feel quite so crappy.

Oh, and Son has managed to share his cold with me. Yuck. I want to go home and crawl into bed, breathe through my mouth, and snore away without any comments from Husband. Won't be able to, but maybe I'll fantasize about it on the drive home.

If you use the "new" math....

I've been crunching some numbers, and while it still might be a stretch, I think that we really could swing the bigger house that I have been wanting. Now, granted, there were a lot of assumptions (like a decent interest rate and profit on our house that we have now) built in, but I have to say, I am somewhat optimistic about the entire thing.

I've been over the reasons for the bigger house before, so I won't go there. The more that I think about it (and man, how I have been obsessing about it), the more I think that this would be the right decision for us. I just have to convince Husband that I'm not nuts. However, after a perusal of what is available, I think that he would be able to find something that he would be able to more than live with.

I understand why he is fighting me on this. I really do. First, he hates to move. Quite honestly, if I ever meet anyone who actually likes to move, I would seriously question their mental status. It sucks. It probably will suck more with Son and animals in tow. I just don't see that as a viable excuse. Second, we have put so much into this house to make it what we want it to be. Due to our fire, we have a virtually remodeled upstairs, including the high-ticket items like the kitchen and bathroom. We have added a 20x20 composite deck, a new bathroom, landscaped, replaced all of the windows, and just got done siding and adding stone. I know. I know, I know. However, there is only so much that we can do to make this place what we want, and need it to be. In order to get over the hump, we need another bedroom upstairs, a master suite, and a three car garage ('cause I refuse to pay almost $500/mo to store the boat over the winter...ack!). In order to add all of that, we would end up pricing ourselves out of our neighborhood, which doesn't make financial sense. We don't live in a dumpy neighborhood, but the average house doesn't have all of the features that we (OK, maybe just I) want.

It's a hard question, since I have invested a lot in the house and property too. I've spent a lot of time and effort adding plants, tearing up sod, tilling, etc. I have a lot of myself in it too. A lot of things that I would hate to leave. However, I also want to be able to be able to have some space. I don't mind streamlining, but there is a point, especially now that we have Son, where it can't just be pushed as much. Then there is the issue of #2, assuming that we are able, and I just don't see how we are going to make it work. The bottom line is that I want another baby more than I want to stay in this house. I don't think that Husband really grasps how badly I want this, or how much things would change if we added another one to the mix.

I guess that I have been thinking about it a lot because we are rapidly approaching the time of the year where we have to make our benefits elections. How does that even remotely relate? Well, I have to decide how much to put in our flex spending account. If we decide to pursue #2, I will have to elect the max amount and hope and pray that (1) we get lucky on the first or second try and (2) that nobody gets really sick during the year (read: Husband). I would have to make an appointment with Dr. RE in the near future if we want to start in the beginning of the year. However, I can't make any of these decisions with the whole house thing hanging out there. To be honest, I think that I am probably the only one in the relationship that feels that this is a deal-breaker or a big part of the decision.

I know that Husband will probably come around once I show him the numbers and the business case, if you will. I just hope that it doesn't take him as long as it did to come around on what stone to put on the house (that only took, gee, two years). I don't think that we have that kind of time...to quote a lawyerly movie: "...my biological clock is ticking..." In the meantime, I'll just keep searching the realty sites, and pray that Husband will come around. If anyone else wants to pray too, I wouldn't say no...

Uh-Oh

The title has a two-pronged meaning. First, it is one of Son's favorite things to say over and over. I don't count it as his first word, since I'm not sure if he is using it as merely a vowel sound exercise or if actually gets it.

Second prong-stray cat that I adopted, has not assimilated with other cats, Husband is demanding to leave? Well, ummmm.....she had her kittens today. Ooops. Five of them. One orange, one orange and white, and it looks like three with the dark brown, orange, and black markings on white. I came down to feed her and noticed that she looked, ahem, rather svelte again. Uh-oh. They all look fine, but VERY new-I think that the one on top of the pile of them was still a little wet. They are making those precious little new kitten noises. She just wolfed down a bunch of food (note to self: stop at pet store on way home tomorrow) and water and is now happily back under the futon.

The weird thing is, we have two drawers that slide under the futon (which is unfolded, usually it's serving as a guest bed), with various old blankets in them. I thought for sure that she would use one of them. Instead, she appears to have had them out in the open space, snuggled up to one of my old stuffed animals that Husband won for me out of the claw machine at one of the hotels that we worked at during our rather nomadic days before we were married.

I haven't messed with the kittens yet (sooooo hard), but my inspection with the flashlight seems to show that she cleaned up after herself pretty well (our other cat who had kittens made a huge mess), and there isn't a stain anywhere on the light carpet here in the office. Methinks Husband is going to go ballistic on me. He wanted her gone before this happened. Oh well, he's just gonna have to deal with it. So there.

How cool is this? I got to welcome a new mommy into the world. Good job kitty!

Blech.

You know its bad when you can't even come up with a snappy title. Yuck.

I need three day weekends every weekend. I'm convinced that this is the only way that I will ever get anything done AND even remotely entertain the thought of doing something for little 'ol me. This weekend was nothing but work, and I have to admit that I'm tired. Pooped. The only, and I mean only, break that I caught the past couple of days is that Son took naps on schedule and for longer than normal.

Another reason for the blech is that it is really pretty rotten outside. Rainy, cold, and just plain inhospitable. Don't get me wrong, I love fall, and the whole exercise of getting out the sweaters, watching the trees, etc. I just like to transition a bit, to let go of the whole summer fantasy. No transition this time. It's supposed to be in the 70s later this week, but I'm not holding my breath. I do have to say that the one upside to this is that I was able to break out Son's new fall duds, and man, was he stylin' this morning. Brand new Old Navy painter jeans, a red, white and blue football jersey, and his brand new tennies. I think that he even knew that he was cuter than usual. He's still not so into the shoes. He's been barefoot all summer, which I think has been a good thing for helping him on the path to walking, but to put on socks AND shoes is still a bit much for him. Little stinker, I heard a grunt out of him this morning on the drive in, and what do I see in the rear view mirror but Son with his foot up to his mouth, shoelaces in his mouth, and he's tugging. Ugh. I reached back and gave him a little grief, and all I got was giggles. Goofy kid.


Oh, and I got my first initiation into the world of mommy snottiness this weekend. Since Husband was at work on Saturday, Son and I headed out to the mall to try to find him some shoes. I was sick of trying to buy him shoes at places like Target and never having them fit. I knew that there was a StrideRite in the local mall, so we load up after lunch and head out. Pushing the monster stroller into the teeny tiny store, we are greeted by a small mob. Other monster strollers, multiple kids to one family, and three sales people. Great. We go to the back of the store to check out the age appropriate stuff for Son, to patiently wait to get helped. Easy enough. I hear the salespeople calling out names, which strikes me as a little weird, Fuddrucker's yes, shoe store no. After haning out for about ten minutes (during which Son was an absolute angel), I flag down the sales person to ask if she could measure Son.

Salesperson: Did you sign in?
Me: Sign in? (Confused, embarrassed, about to get cranky)
Salesperson: Oh, you need to sign in before I can help you. (Vague gesture towards cash register, where I notice a rudimentary sign in binder).
Me: Uh, OK. (Feeling flustered at this point, and suppressing an urge to run from the store)

Meanwhile, I get the dirty looks from the "experienced," perfectly made up and dressed suburban moms for trying to circumvent the process. You know, the process that isn't readily ascertainable when you walk in the store. Yeah, that one. Apparently, I was supposed to get this piece of information as part of the hormonal package upon giving birth. Must have slept through that particular procedure. I ended up embarrassed, but we walked out $90 poorer (for two freakin' pairs of size 5 1/2 extra wide toddler shoes!) but at least the child will look civilized. It should be noted that I haven't spent that much on shoes for me in a long time.

I'm just tired, a little bored, and just out of it today. I had wanted to pack my gym bag this morning, but I overslept, so that didn't get done. I was sort of looking forward to some treadmill time today too. Husband had to work all weekend, and was sick on top of it, so he's been pretty out of the picture since Friday. When I know that he will be getting home late, I just can't fall asleep, so I got to bed late. Whenever he gets run down like this, he just can't seem to get over it without a major effort. Therefore, I end up on my own. No big deal once in a while, but the world always seems to be at its end when he gets sick. Oh, the humanity! However, when I was feeling the exact same way last weekend, it was no big deal. Pisses me off. It always seems to be a competition, and he always feels worse. Puuh-leeeze. Anyway, I don't anticipate him being a whole lot of help for a whole lot of anything this week, and the whole thing just makes me cranky.

The spectre always looms

It's funny, even if you have beaten infertility (once), it still comes back to haunt you. To make you realize that yes, you are defective.

Case in point. When going to see Dr. N. on Tuesday, they take me back and do the weight (yuck-see previous post) and blood pressure, and then the lab lady asks me for the date of my last period. I tell her November 30, 2004. I don't count the my pill experiment/screw-up in March because, well, my body really wasn't doing anything on its own. She looks at me like I've lost it. I tell her that I have a baby that will be one the next week, and that I'm nursing.

She looks at me doubtfully and asks the question, bearing that tiny bit of hope/anticipation that always accompanies that question..."could you be pregnant?" I laughed. I couldn't help it. I simply told her that it took four years and several thousand dollars of drugs for me to even think about having Son. I suppose that I could have just said no, but what's the fun in that?

Needless to say, infertility will always be with me. No way around it. The thing is, what will the long-lasting impacts be? In ten years, will I be plagued with regret that because I don't work like a normal human female should, I wasn't able to have the three children that I think that I really want? The children that I think would make me feel as though my family is complete? Maybe. Or I could just try to placate myself with the thought that I got my one miracle, which is a lot more than some people get. I need to focus on him, that little light, that thing that can make all of the badness go away with one smile and giggle. Yep, I need to focus on that. Oh, and not laughing at medical professionals. Yes, I need to work on that too.

Not too bad for a crazy lady

I had a follow-up appointment with Dr. N yesterday regarding my PPD. I really, truly, love that man. He's the first male OB/GYN that didn't leave me questioning exactly what creepy predilections guided them into the practice in the first place. And he actually reads my chart before he opens the door.

Anyway, he said something that I hadn't noticed before, or at least during the time that I've been on my good friend Prozac. He said that I seemed significantly better. Hmmm. Interesting. I guess that I really hadn't stopped to take stock of that lately. I'm not as mood swingy lately, and the feelings of being completely overwhelmed have diminished. Sometimes the anxiety rears its ugly head, and that is the one thing that I wish I had under better control. That overwhelming uneasiness that I can't find a way to clear from my system. I still feel that way when there is a lot to do and I can't seem to find the time or space to do it. It's something that has been around for a while (pre-Son) so it may or may not be related to the depression issue. I get all of this nervous energy and I just want to cry and pace all at the same time. During the worst of the depression, I would be nursing Son and burst into tears-I would be so scared about all of the bad things that could happen to him, the what ifs, the unknown. I would be at the point of hyperventilating. I would only feel worse when Son would look up at me and look scared. Nice mom, hunh?

So, we have decided to start weaning me down and see how it goes. He wrote me the prescription for the lower dosage for 8 weeks, and we'll re-evaluate when I go back in for my (YUCK) annual in October. After having internals right before I had Son (Dr. N. is soooo lucky he still has teeth), the regular exam should be a piece of cake...right?

In the end, I left feeling pretty darn good about everything, even though the scale told me that the giant Snickers for breakfast over the past months was NOT a good idea. For some reason, I didn't feel that bad about it. Not that I wasn't kicking myself for letting the loss that I had after I had Son be significantly diminished, but rather that it wasn't the end of the world. I'm still lighter than I was before I got pregnant, and now I just need to take some steps to re-introduce some sanity.

Overall, not a bad visit. I really hope that I am ready to get off of this stuff and move on to something far more interesting...like getting back on my Met and giving Son a sibling. Now there's a project I can get into.

Wimpy

After all of my grousing about Husband, I went and just reinforced the whole spoiling issue. I went in to get my watch battery replaced, and ended up buying this. Husband had a ring made for me that had both of our birthstones, along with Son's, channel set into a gold band. He really does try to be a good dad-and does a pretty good job despite what he had as a role model. I just hope he likes it. There goes another chunk of the profit-sharing check.

It was the only men's ring that I could find with a stone other than a diamond that didn't look real gaudy and over-done. It's nice and understated. The other neat-o thing is that these are natural sapphires, not created. I tend to be a bit of a purist when it comes to my gemstones. (By the way, Sapphire is September's birthstone). I'm going to give it to him on Son's birthday next Tuesday. It's off being sized right now. Even though Husband is over six feet, he has pretty small hands, so the standard size 10 just wouldn't work.

If he doesn't like it, I have three months to return it. If that ends up being the case, I guess he'll get to spoil himself.

Spoiled

Husband has become spoiled. And, I have to say, I think that it is my own damn fault. What is to follow is part vent, part pity-party, part "what about me?" I've created this monster, and now I am dearly paying for it.

I haven't had a weekend day to myself in a long time. Now, yes, I've gone and done things during Son's naps, but I'm still "on call." I just can't even begin to wind down when I have to haul the monitor with me. I get a little resentful because Husband rarely, if ever, pulls duty. Yet, I allow it. I figure that for the most part, his week tends to be more stressful than mine, so I cut him some slack. This weekend, however, I had hoped it would be different.

I was supposed to go to a spa party on Friday night to hook up with my best friend (whom I haven't seen since, oh, March) and just do something that was fun and not in any way, shape, or form related to parenthood. Friend called me on Friday morning to let me that while she was still going to go, but that she had commitments early on Saturday morning and wouldn't be staying too long. Since we weren't going to get a whole lot of time together, and it was quite a drive, I decided not to go. It didn't help that Husband had to stay late that night because it was busy at work. He had called before I even left for work that morning saying that he would be late. He suggested that I drive up to his work, drop off Son, and he could take him home and I could go to the party. Without a map this may sound a little off, but it really was a good idea logistically. In the end, it would have only screwed up Son's schedule, and there were no guarantees that I would even get to the party at a decent time. That, coupled with Friend not being able to stay very long, just made it a non-starter.

Husband had felt so bad about the whole deal that I thought he would go out of his way to give me some time this weekend. Just "me" time. Somehow all of that went out the window. First, he goes into work on Saturday morning. Then, he calls and tells me that he and a friend were going to go out on the boat that afternoon. His friend had had a rough week, and he thought it would be a nice thing to do. What can I say? No? Husband had already made promises to go. So, Husband comes home, finishes up replacing the floor in the boat, his friend shows up, and they leave. They didn't get home until almost 6:00. Husband then spent the next couple of hours goofing around with the neighbors and chatting. Great for him, and I know that he needs that type of interaction too. However, where did that leave me?

It left me with a child who only took one nap ALL day on Saturday, during which I attempted to sort clothes and get at least one load of laundry in. I also loaded up the dishwasher and did the weekly hunt for the sippy cups that Son has launched all over the dining room. Combine that with taking out garbage and organizing the recycling, and oh, the fun! Oh, and to top it off, Son would start to howl at the top of his lungs if I had even the audacity to try to go to the bathroom by myself.

Sunday wasn't whole lot better. Husband continued his boat project (replacing all of the rotted out wood, etc.) and ran to Home Depot. Had a ball. I bet he even felt like he got something done. What did I do? Dishes. Folded laundry. OK, and watched a little HGTV while I was at it. Husband finally came back in around 2:00. I got in the shower, fed Son, and told him I would be back after I went to a couple of stores. I go and spend my profit-sharing check (at least a good chunk of it) in less than 45 minutes, and then embark to Target to pick up prescriptions, etc. On my way wandering through the aisles, I check my cell phone. SEVEN missed calls. All from Husband. The calamity, you ask? Son is crying and won't stop. It's now around 6:30ish and Husband is apparently mad at me for not being able to give him the magic cure to make the howling stop. GRRRR.

I finish up at Target, but, and I hate to admit this, I take my sweet time. Now, I know that it probably wasn't a nice thing to do to Son, since he wasn't having a very good time with Husband. However, my guilt was tinged with just a bit of evil glint in the eye. Darn it, it's time that he (meaning Husband) learns how to handle this without taking it as a personal affront, and Son learns that Daddy can do the job too. So often, and I don't think that I am the only one that does this, it is just easier on our nerves to just take over and "rescue" the likes of Husband when things head south. Husband is perfectly happy with his role as the rough-houser, kiss them on the top of the head before he leaves role. He's not so great at handling the day to day stuff. Although, in his defense, he does changes diapers. Sometimes.

I finally get home, and I'm greeted by a tear-streaked little boy, and, I kid you not, a pouting husband. Pouting. Because an eleven month old didn't respond to him like he wanted him to. That said eleven-month old stopped sniffling as soon as I came in. He's put out.

Part of it is that he is frustrated that he can't seem to control these crying jags that Son has. Let's see. Son once again took a late morning nap, so wasn't up to an afternoon nap. I could've pushed the issue, but I didn't . It was almost 7:00 by the time I got home. Had Husband thought about, oh gee, FEEDING the child? NO. (Insert animation of looking at him in utter disbelief, and wanting to pull hair out.) Son was shortly, and very happily, in his highchair inhaling his turkey and yams, followed with a peach chaser. Husband then looks all downtrodden, doing the "I'm the worst dad on the planet" routine, and feeling sorry for himself. ARGH!!!!!!! It's simple problem solving. Really. And it pretty much took the wind completely out of my sails.

This whole episode shows that we have some issues to address. They area as follows:

• Husband needs to be more involved in how a routine day goes. Just because he's not a big fan of structure doesn't mean that our near-toddler isn't.
• Husband needs to figure out that there are times when his needs come dead last. Period. I asked him if he had tried to get down on the floor and distract Son by playing with him. "But it hurts my hips and my feet fall asleep." Tough. Try having over nine pounds of baby sitting squarely on your bladder at the end of August. Sympathy quotient=0.
• I HAVE to stop feeling guilty for getting some time away. In the end, it only hurts me (and creates a need to vent and throw a tantrum of my own) and Son doesn't get the experience that Dad can handle things too.

In the end, it took until last night when Husband 'fessed up that he was a little out of line to act like he did. I know that Son can be frustrating, but sometimes you just have to dive in. Being a parent is about being there for the Kodak moments, along with the Tales From the Crypt moments. It's just the way it is.

Put it this way: I'm gone for four days the third week of October. Husband has a pretty steep learning curve. I hope that for both his and Son's sakes, they are up to it.

The agony and the ecstasy

Agony: siding guys showed up at 7:30 on a Saturday morning. I fumble to put clothes on and sprint down to the door so they don't wake Son up by ringing the freakin' doorbell again. Husband had to go into work this morning, so I'm on my own. Crap. Looking at me, the foreman asks me if he woke me up. Ummm, does the fact that one side of my face still has sheet wrinkles in it give me away? Just for the record, I'm not one of those people that looks cute a little (ok, a lot) dishelved. I just look, well, like you woke me up.

Ecstasy: All of the siding is off of the house, the house wrap is up, and they are coming back tomorrow to do the soffit and wrap the windows. If the siding vendor hadn't delivered the wrong J-channel, we may have even had siding up today. The foreman will pick up the right stuff on Monday. He told us that the house will be done by the end of the day on Monday. Husband will no longer have an excuse for the lawn looking like it needs a baler instead of a bagger.

It's been a long day, since I was solo mommy all day. Time for bed.

Oh, how nautical!

We took Son out on the newly acquired boat on Saturday. We drove up to my parents (a mere 200 miles with 1 1/2 tons behind us) so we could get on a lake of some decent size. It's been a pretty dry summer, so a lot of the lakes are pretty low right now. Low enough to make putting this monster in on a regular landing requires a good bit of maneuvering, cursing, and making promises to God. Oh, and trying to avoid the dirty looks from those others that are oh-so-patiently waiting behind you.

!
We went out and bought an infant life jacket for Son at Target the night before. It wasn't that expensive, but sheesh, he's only going to wear it less than 10 times. He looks like a little Stegosaurus with it on, but it's supposed to help keep the child's head up out of the water if they ever (God forbid) need to use it for its intended purpose. He wasn't too happy about having to wear it, but, for the first of many times, it was for his own good. Of course, once we were out on Saturday we found an infant sized life jacket that the previous owner had left behind. Grrr. Even though it was pink and purple, it would have worked. However, on the up side, there were the next three sizes up in the boat as well-and all of them barely used. Hallejulah!

So, on to Saturday. We got to my parents around 1:30, and while on a normal day, it would have been Son's naptime, he had slept enough in the car for me not to be too worried. We all pack up into the Jeep, and try to find the lake with a landing that is still deep enough to put the behemoth in. We finally arrive, Husband backs the trailer down the ramp, and....The boat is not moving. Even this landing is too shallow to get enough water under this thing to let it float off the trailer, which is what is supposed to happen. Husband has to now back up so the back wheels of the Jeep are now in the lake and halfway up. Boat finally floats off, but starts to wander off due to the wind. Herculean efforts by my Dad to keep it from turning sideways and get it over to the dock. Herculean efforts by the 4X4 gods to get Jeep up off of landing since we had to essentially back so far in that we were off of the cement of the landing.

Finally, we all pile in. Husband is trying to keep it all together and act like he knows what he is doing. It's not working. My oh-so-helpful father gives instruction. Husband is happy to get it, but still has that whole issue with acknowledging that he just might not get it. We finally get out, and it really was a beautiful day. Son, well, he wasn't so crazy about the trip out to the other side of the lake. I don't know if it was the sound of the engine, the wind, or feeling me tense up, but Mom said that we was looking a little scared. All he did was sit absolutely still in my lap and hold onto my pants leg.

Once we stopped, Son relaxed a little and started getting a little interested in his surroundings. My dad took him on his lap in the drivers seat, and Son was in heaven. Buttons, switches to play with...Hooray! (Actually, the same thing goes for my dad-he LOVES to fiddle with anything he can get his hands one. Usually manages to break something.) They sat there for a good 30 minutes. Son took possession of the steering wheel and wouldn't let go. He managed to turn on the radio, and was bopping away on Dad's lap. He also found the volume control (I still don't know where it is) and turned it up just to get a reaction out of Husband. Little stinker.


All in all, he made it for about an hour before the sun, a skimpy lunch, and lack of a nap got to him. He enjoyed the trip in a lot more. He just loves the wind in his hair. I'm looking forward to giving him something that I had in my childhood. I spent a lot of time in the bottom of a barebones 14 ft. Crestliner when I was a kid, but I had a lot of fun too. My first biology lessons were learned on Portage Lake. I hope that Son will have the same type of memories. I'm also happy that my Dad was able to spend this time with him. He still keeps trying to get Son's first words to be "fish." Never know, it might happen.

Told Ya!

Why is it that whenever I tell anyone (including blogland) that Son is sleeping well that the next night doesn't go so great? Why? Told ya he was messing with me. When he woke up for good this morning he was in a really good mood, so no harm, no foul I guess. I love it when I walk into his room, turn on the light, and he is just sitting there in his crib, grinning at me. Oh, and he is wearing his "Heartbreaker" onesie. Yep, this kid has got me wrapped.

So, even though I am struggling on the sleep front today, life isn't too bad. I downloaded my performance eval today, and it was actually good. I was a little nervous about it for some reason...I'm not sure why. I've actually seen my manager, let's see, twice over this reporting period. Twice. I talk to him a couple of times a week, maybe. On the up side, he lets me do what I need to do, with little to no micromanagement. On the down side, guidance it a little, well, sparse. Anyway, this is my third time around reporting to him. It's a little awkward in that we have alternated between being peers and being in a reporting relationship. I have a hard time sometimes when he gets all managerial with me-I have to stop myself from blowing it off and be compliant. I've managed to keep it on an even keel for the most part. He's home this week with his new baby (the second in the department in two weeks!), so we haven't had a chance to go over the eval like HR says we should, but I'm OK with just reading it. We've all go t so much on our plates that taking time for something so administrative just seems like a waste.

Overall, today hasn't been too bad. Here comes the weekend...Hooray!