*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.