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February 2008
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April 2008

Hey, let’s talk about my uterus

Because it sounds like there are more than one set of you going through the same thing here’s the scoop about me getting preggo. (If there are no objections I’ll probably keep blogging about my progress. If there are objections… um… well, email me with your compelling arguments.) When last I bitched and moaned discussed this I was just about to visit my OB-GYN.

First off, I have to say my OB-GYN was great! I had been worried that since I hadn’t gotten to the point of a positive pregnancy test my experience and suspicions would be brushed off, but it wasn’t like that at all. He totally agreed that we needed to start testing options because of my…ahem… “advanced age”. (Actually, he was trying to be very delicate about it… until I blurted out “Yeah, dude, I’m OLD!” There’s just no sense in pussy footing around. (ha ha!)) So if anyone else has been experiencing what I have, have been trying for a while, has some age issues (no offense), etc. I’d say go visit your OB.  (And if they’re jerky, switch to someone new.)

So far this is the plan.

A little over a week ago I got a hysterosalpingogram (HSG) which is where they shoot dye up your wazoo to look for blockages and such. It was all rather hurried because I didn’t get in to see my OB until Thursday afternoon and he basically got me squeezed in for an HSG by the next morning. It’s all about getting it done right after your period and before you ovulate (and I ovulate a little early, so the rush). Since I had had a c-section I could have had scar tissue blocking my fallopian tubes, or polyps may have formed, etc. Luckily, I learned I have no blockages! Yay! This procedure also has the benefit of increasing your chances of conceiving by 10% for your next cycle…because it’s pretty much like power-washing your uterus. AND adds what the attending doc so technically referred to as “lube”.  I was a little sore but it was more from the cramping that came after and not so much from the procedure itself (and really, compared to labor it was nothing).  If any of you get this done just have gentle nookie after.

Next up, Keen has to get all friendly-like with a cup (sorry, dude), and if I don’t conceive I take a blood test on the third day of my next period to test hormone levels. It’s all very precise and choreographed. (You know how, when you’re waiting to take a preg test, or even an ovulation test, it’s seems like you have to wait forever? Well, when you start doing fertility testing you realize you’ve got very short windows in which to operate. It does make the month go by quicker, though.) After those tests, we may move on to Clomid and/or the turkey baster method (intrauterine insemination, or IUI).

My OB-GYN was also ecstatic that I had been charting my cycle. Apparently, almost everyone else on the planet doesn’t do this (?!). I don’t know. I just know I’m anal (ha! maybe that's the problem!) and I had the length of my cycles, days I ovulated, afternoon delights, all written down. How else would I have figured out I ovulated early? 

So that’s it to date. Hope this is helpful and not just more TMI. (Though I hope you guys noticed I refrained from talking about mucus this time. ‘Cause I’m all considerate of your delicate feelings like that.)

This service announcement brought to you by the makers of K-Y Jelly.

On another note, Chance has been making progress as well! His aggression is getting better, especially at school and even though he’s still at the stage where he delights in pushing my buttons I feel like we’re improving all around. Yay!

   - the weirdgirl

Thank You Easter Bunny (you fuzzy bastard)

Man, I feel like crap. Earlier in the week I thought it was just a tad bit of heat stroke/holiday burnout but now I think I might actually be fighting a sinus infection. I hate allergies. 

This is going to sound like bad mommy whining but I am so glad Easter is over! And every other holiday for a while. (Upside/downside of preschool… your kid gets to do something fun for every holiday/YOU have to celebrate EVERY holiday!) Chance’s birthday is over, everyone else’s birthdays are over, tax season will be over very soon, and my schedule is clear! We don’t even have a list of projects on the calendar (except for making a baby and doing assessments for Chance). Of course, I am going back to work this week but that’s minor compared to the recent marathon of events. I think the biggest plan we have for this weekend is going to Pottery Barn. Woo! We’re looking at lamps! Woo hoo! I might even buy some bath towels! Woo HOO!

We did have some glorious weather for Easter.  Beautiful sun the whole weekend (thus slight heat stroke). The result of all that gorgeous sunshine is everything and its mother bloomed the fuck out of pollen like they were throwing a benefit for famine-afflicted bees. And I, like a good a little potential breeder, have been avoiding taking any allergy meds. (But I’m not bitter.) 

I do have some updates of the whole baby making process but I think I’ll hold off on that until next time. For now, some pictures. I’m gonna go take a nap.

Sugar high.    


Practicing for the future modeling career.


The cat who must be in every photo. (Also apparently practicing for a modeling career.)


Must... find... more... eggs.


OK, here's the plan... eat as much chocolate as possible then torture parents with a hyperactive burst.  If we all run at once they won't be able to catch us. 


Peace out.        - the weirdgirl   

Ridiculous Things We Do for Our Kids

The most recent…

While my son is pretending to be a cat, I play with him WITH the cat toy. (He wants me to!) Then do the same while he is pretending to be a bunny.  (Apparently, bunnies like cat toys, too.)

Sing, very loudly, to the tune of Yo Gabba Gabba’s, “I like fish” song… “I-I-I like POOP! I LIKE poop! I-I-I like POOP! I LIKE poop! What’s that? That’s a boat! What’s that? That’s a boat! It’s floating in the POTTY!” Usually this concert goes on while there is poop somewhere in close proximity.  Poop always makes me break out in song.  (BTW, we’ve told him poops can be either “boats” or “submarines”. For... um... obvious reasons.  It was supposed to get him interested with the potty training!)

Cluck (as in chicken) the bass line to Smoke on the Water. And not just the word, “cluck,” but full on clucking sounds. Chance thinks this is hilarious. I think it might be because I’m inadvertently channeling a chicken impression while I’m clucking. (No, I’m not gonna tape it for you.)

Since he enjoys all of the above so much, I don’t think it’ll come up in his future therapy. Right?

What ridiculous things have you caught yourself doing?

- the weirdgirl

Because I'm so much older than three... Barbie, Feminism, and why it's good to be a kid (still)

As I was staring at a whole aisle of Barbie products, shopping for an upcoming birthday party, I realized that, whereas I know the whole princess phase starts kicking in about now, I have no idea where three-year-old girls are at developmentally. For example, do three-year-olds want the big doll whose hair they can brush? Or do they want the smaller dolls that are so cute with the snap on outfits? Do they want to dress the dolls yet? Or just walk them up and down their imaginary castles? Are they into the big sister/little sister role model combo? Or are they identifying with… what?

I have a boy, see. If I was shopping for my son I’d immediately go for the smaller versions that came as a set and could be play acted in a variety of scenes, plus fit into really small spaces or easily hung from string, balanced on small cars, survive falls from high places, etc.

I had to accost some poor man, who I overheard on his phone discussing which dolls his daughter already had, (yes, I totally eavesdropped) to ask questions about what little three-year-old girls were doing with dolls these days. (Went for the big doll for maximum dressing and hair styling potential, BTW.) Thank goodness he was there, because I was just sort of lost. I’m great with older girls, from about five all the way up to the teens (I’m the cool aunty). I know that I would have gone ape-shit for all the fairy and mermaid crap if they had that when I was a kid (not so much for the princesses, but I AM a scifi/fantasy nerdette (But still cool.)). But I just wasn’t sure how Barbie was playing on the three-year-old spectrum. And they have A LOT of products nowadays!

I really like Barbie, actually, though my true appreciation of her came after I was a kid. I did a whole paper on her in college; a feminist, post-Freudian analysis of her role as a signifier in our society. My basic theory was Barbie is the original and ultimate Woman because her psyche/sense of self wasn’t defined through a realization that she doesn’t have a penis.  Because Ken doesn’t have one. (Because, you know, that’s what Freud thought we were doing… defining ourselves through the lack… it’s tied up with that dumb penis envy theory!) Barbie was also truly the Other woman (in the literary sense of Other), and is simultaneously set apart yet also a source of incredible power in her non-Freudian, therefore self-defining femininity. See? OK, that was probably totally confusing, but it made sense in my paper. (And I got an A, because sometimes being a smartass, backed up with good research works out for you.)  Some tidbits from my research… #1 Barbie’s much maligned body proportions were made that way to compensate for the clothes – when you make clothes that small you get an interesting bulkiness in places. Once they adjusted her proportions the clothes looked more “normal” on her. #2 Barbie WAS designed based off a German sexy, joke doll!

I personally find Barbie’s long, evolving history, the early smarmy marketing tactics (more on that later if anyone wants to hear), the feminist/anti-feminist debates, the ongoing controversy she generates – even today with all the over-merchandised princess crap - to be all rather delicious.  Whether you like her or not no one can deny that Barbie has power!

However, my love for her as a child was much simpler: I loved the clothes. And the shoes! All those little slip-on mules!  Barbie was, in a nutshell, fabulous. However, my family was also kind of poor so I didn’t get many brand-new, Barbie clothes (or new clothes for myself, for that matter). Or I got the K-mart knock-off doll’s duds. Mainly, I made her little outfits myself from fabric remnants, which actually opened up vast vistas of fashion and make believe… my Barbie was an adventurer, a sky-diver as well as a pilot, always in some new place with a new skill; she could take on anything! As long as she could do it in coordinating tube tops and straight skirts (which were also tubes). Because that’s all I could sew. I did have a few snazzy scarves thrown in there as well.

So is it any wonder given my convoluted relationship with her that I, along with buying the birthday gift, ended up buying myself this:


So fabulous! The highly fashionable clothes, the shoes, the retro, come-hither eyes that may just lure away all the men. A dangerous and seductive woman, powerful yet not trashy like a Bratz doll. AND a redhead to boot! (Well, strawberry blonde is close.) How could I resist? - wg

P.S. I also have a preggo Barbie with the detachable tummy. The one they banned from stores! Rockin’! 

Addendum: because Creative-Type Dad made me think of this:

Life is Weird

So check it out... now that I'm in the middle of scheduling all sorts of appointments, and classes, and assessments for both me and the kiddo, and just as I was feeling the relief of a more open schedule to do so... my old job calls me.  They want me back, baby.  Plus, a couple of other jobs have contacted me as well.  Like everyone has called in the last two days.  'Cause I am SO hot.  (That's me being facetious. To me.)  I ALSO had run across a couple of job listings that would be different from what I've been doing but that I think I would really like... but now I'm afraid to call them.

The problem when you work primarily part time and from home and/or on a project basis is the tendency to take on too many projects.  Especially when every time you read the paper it makes you think a recession is right around the corner.  And if you watch too much Jericho.  Then you get all paranoid and try to stock pile cash and vegetable seeds.  Try to remember how to make jam or scavenge for food; take an inventory of what household items are tradeable if the whole economy falls apart.  (I exaggerate.  A little.  I totally blame my hippie parents for my occasional paranoid, survivalist flashbacks. If it's instilled young you never shake it completely.)

I digress.  The thing is I really don't want an overwhelming, busy schedule again.  It takes away from the family and we've got a lot of family stuff going on.  And yet, I still like money.  And doing something other than just sitting at home.   Not that I'm ever really sitting. 

Where am I going with this?  I have no idea.  I just started typing and this is what came out.  Though the multiple job call thing is a bit weird.   At least my hormonal meltdown from the weekend is over. 

In other news...

I've been nominated for a BoB Award!  Check out The Best of Blogs Awards and nominate some of your favorite bloggers. This organization is a cool group who are trying to bring visibility to some of the lesser known blogs out there (as compared to the some of the habitual winners of other blog awards, not that I'm naming names).  Voting begins April 14th.   

Blogher needs your help with their latest reader survey!  (You've probably seen a few ads rotating to the right.)  Participants will be entered in a drawing for  tickets to BlogHer, and BlogHer is always fun!  Click here to take the survey!

My cafepress store has been making sales without me doing any promotion at all!  (Slap me with a salami, when does that happen?!)  So I figure it's time to get off my butt and learn to make a button link.  Even though the last time I attempted HTML was a really long time ago.  Please be forewarned, if this blog gets all cludgey it's because of me.
          - wg   

Month Number Six

So this is month six of the great child number two attempt and my period just started again. Part of me thinks I shouldn’t blog about the process because it’s… well, so far it hasn’t been going well. But for my own sanity I need to talk it through. (Plus, I sort of secretly hope someone out there will say, “I had that exact same thing! It was such and such.”) The thing is that for four out of these past six months I’ve had early pregnancy symptoms. Sore boobs, fatigue, what feels like a hormone surge seen in the onset of skin and hair changes, increased mucus (sorry guys), gas. I don’t know why gas has to always make its appearance but, trust me, normally I’m a very ungassy girl. In general, it’s just different goings on than what usually happens in my cycle. So the hope goes up a bit, I start being careful about what I eat, carrying stuff and so on. Then, suddenly, the boobs stop hurting, I get cramping, severe gas (what the fuck?)… and then my period starts. And by suddenly I mean this usually all occurs within a day. Normally I can tell when my period is about to start, a day or two ahead of time; there are certain signs, ones not involving any cramping. This is different. Four times this has happened. 

I’d think (and have thought, occasionally) that I was just being psychosomatically preggo.  But last month was one of two months where I didn’t feel any symptoms… and what a frickin’ difference! No weird hormone surges. No mucus showing up, no fatigue, no gas. My hair and skin were predictable. My boobs hurt – because they do every month – but it was at the normal time and it wasn’t ongoing and increasingly. I felt “normal”. Enough so that I even thought to myself, “OK, I’m not imagining things.” 

As I’m sure you can guess, this has been rough emotionally. I think I’m a pretty tough, down to earth chick – I try to be honest to myself about what I’m feeling and weigh it against, you know, reality (i.e. there is nothing I can personally do about whether a fetus sticks or not) – I try to stay positive and avoid mindfucking myself… but weathering the hormone surges is hard. I tend to crawl into my head and stay there awhile. 

Anyway, Monday I’m going to call my OB-GYN for testing and scraping my hoo-hoo and whatever else we need to do in the oh-so-fun world of women’s health. I probably should have called after the third time this happened but I wasn’t sure it would be taken seriously since I’ve never gotten to the point of a positive pregnancy test. I’m still not sure it will be taken seriously, but I’m almost 37. I can’t dick around with “trying” for another year before looking at testing. My thyroid thing is a factor… except I’ve been steady for months and it’s even been getting better.

I just… I just hate the idea that I might be able to get pregnant but not stay pregnant. It’s like I’m at the mercy of defective forces.

Man, this blog just feels like all I’m doing lately is venting or worrying and I’m so tired of it!  I'll stop now before the hormonal ranting gets worse.                 - wg

The Learning Goes On

Holy crapmonkeys, I have not sat down at the computer since my last post Sunday night! Seriously. I haven’t gotten any work done, I haven’t read anything, I haven’t even checked email. The porn spam really piled up, let me tell you.  Usually when there’s a break like this I’m still online but my brain has just short-circuited and I can’t think of anything to write.  There’s, literally, a three-day-old IM from my brother I just answered.

And why did this occur, you ask?  Because we are idiots, Keen and I. 

Chance turned three-years-old on Monday*.  (Happy Birthday kiddo!) Somehow, somewhere (most likely in opposite universe), we thought it would be easier to break up all the festivities this year.  I.e. one party for the family and a separate party for the kids. 

It was not easier. It was not easier at all. 

The reason we succumbed to this opiate-like delusion is that we have a lot of family living near us.  You start factoring in friends of ours, everyone’s kids (I can’t believe we’ve all had kids!), friends of Chance, and family and parties can get a little crazy.  At least, for a three-year-old. First bar-b-que kicking off summer… fine, blowout time.  Supposedly laid back toddler birthday party, especially in the middle of tax season (Keen’s busy period)?  Not such a great period.  And last year when we just had the kid party – which we thought was appropriate - all the uninvited family were upset.  Oy. OK then, we’ll split them. 

After analyzing the situation thoroughly, I’ve realized it was not so much an error in execution as it was in duration. Figure, we started roughly last Friday prepping the house, cleaning and whatnot.  (I mean, it all started earlier than that, but you know what I mean.)  Saturday we had the first party at our place.  Parties with family never seem to end at small, casual, cake and ice cream get togethers; I don’t know what it is.  You think a couple of hours tops, and four hours later people are still making their way out.  And even though almost everyone there were adults, Chance still seemed to get riled up like those self-same adults were zapping him with cattle prods. I distinctly remember Chance zipping by me at one point, saying, “Mom!  Need!  Banana!” and then he was already off in another room. (Because of course he wouldn’t stop to eat dinner, or drink, or even pee.)

Sunday, a day of rest.  At least the plan was to take a lot of naps and recover from the time change/birthday night. Except for that family trip to Target to get goodie bag supplies for Chance’s preschool class birthday party. (Which ended up being the third party I had to prep for, ‘cause I hadn’t factored that in when we decided to split the other parties.)  The trip to Target with a still wired, yet tired (SWYT) toddler. The same toddler who refused to take a nap when we got back. 

Note to self – when child refuses to nap, NONE of us get naps.  Buy duct tape.  

On Monday, (even though I did great with the time change on Sunday,) somehow I ended up an hour off ALL DAY LONG! Like, the only two clocks that hadn’t been reset, those are the ones I was looking at – the end result being that I was too late to put Chance down for a fricking nap!  (Just shoot dork girl in the head right now.) And it being my only son’s birthday, I had planned special activity time for him and mommy so the day ended up being way more packed then I expected (before I fucked up an hour).  I finally figured it out when Keen came home earlier than I expected. Anyway, Monday was the kid party at a Pump It Up in the early evening. Downside – chaos like insane midget clowns have finally escaped from a too-tight car. Upside – total enclosure of said chaos and it’s over in two hours.  

But wait! I still have to go home and bake the cupcakes and make goodie bags for preschool! 

OK, that didn’t happen Monday night at all, but it was on my schedule.  (I swear to god, I'm not trying to be one of those super moms!  (They never wear nice shoes.))  I think I fell asleep at, like, 9:00.

Tuesday, get up, skip shower to doze 20 extra minutes while Chance jumped up and down on in me in bed, get him ready and to school.  Theoretically planned on taking shower when I got back home before baking cupcakes; instead, followed strange compulsion to once again visit Target.  (The red bulls-eye calls to me!)  Thank goodness, my dear mom dropped by to visit and helped me make cupcakes and goodie bags and helped me load everything into the car before she galloped off into the sunset.  Got to school, watch 20+ kids scarf cupcakes, start to glimpse the sugar high setting in, and narrowly escaped with Chance in tow. I don’t think anything else happened the rest of Tuesday but the remainder of the day was a blur.   

Today (it’s Wednesday, right?), Chance woke up a little high-strung and whimpery (because SWYT), and we had his yearly pediatrician appointment where we got to discuss the red-flagging, then I rushed home to clean up the disaster of birthday and Easter supplies (courtesy of Target ) flung everywhere before the real cleaners come (yes, I pay people to clean my toilet.  Deal. I’m still fricking busy). Chance again refused to take a nap! Ergo, no nap for mom. (I am just really feeling the need for naps lately.)

So the moral of this story is if you’re an idiot and decide to have multiple celebrations your kid will be feeling it (and making you pay) for days.  You (meaning me) will also be feeling it because you are old.  You’ll also be coming out of your ears in cake. 

Next year, blowout bash. I can’t handle all this fucking merry making.  

 - the weirdgirl

*(And yeah, I had totally meant to do a post about Chance. To commemorate his coming into our lives, how big he’s grown, etc, because I do love my baby. Maybe tomorrow. After nap.) 

Ya wanna talk old?

The clock says 10:18.  We just did the daylight savings switch so it should feel like 9:18, and yet all I can think about is going to bed.  Me, the chick who is usually up to midnight.  Ish.  Yes, I have been slammed the last few days... Chance was having some "emotional moments" (repetitively and loudly), and then we had a family party on Saturday, soon to be followed by Chance's kid birthday party tomorrow so yeah, a lot going on but still...

I shouldn't be so damn tired at 9:00 in the pm.  This offends me to the core of my night owl soul. 

MOST of the time I don't feel my age.  Really.  I feel pretty hip and young and cool (in a nerdy way) and usually energetic.  But there are those certain nights, man...

...well, let's just say I'm missing the copious amounts of caffeine and sudafed I used to consume on my less than perky days.  (And no, I'm not pregnant. I'm just trying to cut down.)

BTW - Once again I'm watching The Millionaire Matchmaker; the latest episode.  Am I the only the one who thinks a guy proposing on the first date is just freaky and idiotic?  And the chick said she'd "consider it"?!  And then Patty (sp? Patti? whatever) got all teary-eyed like it was a miracle and not a sign of the high divorce rate or anything

AND, I'm not saying this has anything to do with it, but I must say that guy had THE most muppet-esque eyebrows I've seen in my life.  They could have been drawn on with markers. 

           - the weirdgirl      

I knew it was bound to happen someday

Me, getting out of the shower. Chance walks in and crouches down for a better view.

Chance: “Mommy penis?”

Me, thinking I misheard: “What?”

Chance, craning his neck: “Mommy penis?”

Me: “Oh! Mommy doesn’t have a penis, honey.” (Or Keen is in for a big surprise.) “Boys have a penis and girls have a vagina. You and daddy have a penis, and mommy has a vagina.”

Chance: “Vajajaja.”

Me: “Yes!” (Close enough)

Chance: “Boobs!”

Me: “Yes, those too, and stop poking them.”

Damn, these boys start early!

Miscellaneous… OK, at least it’s short

I was going to name this Miscellaneous Monday, but it turns out it’s already almost Tuesday. (Seriously, I do NOT know where the day goes!) I throw up these mish-mash posts sometimes, and I really need to come up with a better name, because, like a bad bender in Tijuana, I know I’ll do them again. Any suggestions? (In college when I was writing a paper or creative piece at the very last second, as I often did, I used to refer to it in my head as puking on the page. Sometimes these posts bring that to mind.)


Decorating news – Chance’s big boy bed finally came in! I feel kind of guilty. He was/is really excited. He loves the space, the freedom, the status (those social climbing three-year-olds are so demanding). We really should have gotten him out of his crib sooner. But with having NO room in our old house and then trying to get settled after moving, we were a bit late. The cat, however, felt absolutely no guilt in taking advantage of the new room and cushy-ness. Observe.


The bed (for size referencing).  Chance looks very cute in it, even though he's dwarfed.  That's him and the cat at the FAR end.


Drumming update – I have moved on to set work, instead of the basics of snare. I am now at the proficiency level of one of those horrible child bands whose parents thought it would be so cute to assemble their various children and force teach them just enough to bang out a 3-chord song (maybe) all while smiling cheerily, as occasionally seen on such children’s programs as Yo Gabba Gabba. Yes, I am THAT good. Thank you. Thank you very much.  Now if I could just find a bunch of nine-year-olds who would play with me.

Guilty pleasure – I’ve been watching The Millionaire Matchmaker. Not going out of my way or anything, but if it’s on. It can be SO very appalling (example: some of these men are more primped and polished plastic than the women – ew!; example: how do these women manage to talk about their pets and throw in “I like steamy showers” in the same breath?; example: the LA “I’ll win by having the most plastic surgery” lifestyle; example: that Matchmaker really talks some shit), but I still keep watching.  And sometimes there are some endearing guys who really need help finding the perfect woman.  I’m on a slippery slope, people. What trash are you watching?  

- the weirdgirl