Monday, February 16, 2009

I'm writing instead of packing....

and we leave for the airport in less than 10 hours. Oh yeah, and I have to finish cleaning my house. I absolutely despise returning home from a trip and finding things in disarray, which is odd, because I'm not exactly a neat freak.

I'm definitely looking forward to this trip - sun, hanging out with the fam, eating, drinking, booty shaking - but I'm also kind of dreading it - it's been my only "something to look forward to" for a while now. To add to the pressure, I'm hoping to come home pregnant (and tan, and ten pounds lighter. The odds are good that I'll step off the plane burnt or as pale as I am now, and pregnant with nothing but a 10 pound food baby.)

Good times :)

Thursday, February 12, 2009

can you see the steam coming out of my ears?

I was just doing a little net surfing regarding the Nadya Suleman situation (she has a website now! and you can send her donations through paypal! vomit) and I stumbled across this little gem of a post:

Oh. my. fucking. god. I am so angry I am shaking right now, and can pretty much kiss sleep goodbye tonight. If you don't feel like reading it, she basically says that we should just accept mother nature's assessment of whether or not we are to become mothers. Really? What about the parents who abuse, neglect, rape, murder their children? Did mother nature make a great decision there? And what about when mother nature says that someone will have diabetes? or heart disease? or cancer? Should we ignore medical intervention for those issues too? Don't get me wrong - I think the Suleman situation is an atrocious abuse of medical technology, and the doctor who transferred the eight embryos should be severely punished. That said, I would flatten this woman with a spinning backfist if I lived in Canada. She should just be glad Obama won the election. I had to settle for a comment calling her out (which has not been posted as of yet) for her ignorance and prejudice towards those of us who are childless, and not by choice.

I'd love to hear your thoughts on this. Am I just being overly sensitive?

Wednesday, February 11, 2009


I haven't been doing much of anything lately. I've spent the last month or so stuck in the land of blah. Truly, it's been a challenge to simply function as a human being lately. I haven't even been reading much (only 4 books in a month - I think that's a record low for me). My trip to blah has come about for a variety of reasons, but I think the top two are my 31st birthday and the impending birth of Hubby's niece/nephew, who is known in our home as the PIG - precious impending grandchild.

Hubby's parents can barely contain their excitement. I don't blame them for being excited- it will be their first, and possibly only, grandchild - but damn if they don't just irritate the fuck out of me lately. Our child should have been the first grandchild, not the PIG. Sigh. I know that I should be happy for Hubby's brother and his wife, and there probably is a little nugget of happiness for them deep in my psyche, but it's buried under layers and layers of jealousy, anger, sadness, etc. A little background: Hubby's brother is in medical school, and his wife just finished school herself. There were some concerns as to whether or not they'd be able to have kids at all, so PIG is truly a miracle for them. But of course, I have to compare myself and Hubby to them: We own a home. They do not. Hubby earns enough that I could stay home with a baby (should my womb ever decide to let one hang out long enough, of course). PIG will spend the majority of his/her time in daycare. We live close to family (okay, it's Hubby's crazy family, but family nonetheless). They do not. PIG has made me feel like a complete failure: I gave up a career that was quite fulfilling and moved halfway across the country from my family and friends so that we could settle down, buy a house, and enjoy the less-stressful Midwestern lifestyle, and raise a family. We did everything right. And here we are, two and a half years and many failed pregnancies later. I have a job, not a career, and few close friends (but many acquaintances) here. Blah. And of course, I feel like the shittiest person in the world because I cannot even bring myself to send them a gift or a card. I told Hubby he needs to do it, but unless I nag he'll probably forget. Of course, I have no energy to nag, so if they end up hating us, so be it.

The whole birthday thing sucks bananas too. 31. I thought I'd be close to done having kids by now. I thought I'd have a career by now. I thought I'd have my Master's by now. Instead, I have put my whole life on hold to chase a dream that is quickly fading into the realm of unlikelihood. I did not feel like celebrating at all this year, and yet Hubby's family insisted on having a dinner to celebrate. We tried explaining but got suckered into it anyway. And of course, it was a miserable experience. To recap: Hubby's parents (who are Evangelicals and are convinced that unless they convert us we'll be going straight to hell, where all the fun people are) opened dinner by praying and moving immediately into a conversation about sex. WTF? I wanted to crawl under the table and vomit. The only thing that could have made me feel more uncomfortable was the after dinner conversation: Hubby's mom discussing all the ways in which PIG's gestation has been difficult on his/her parents. Seriously? A dinner for MY birthday (which I didn't want to have in the first place) and you think I want to hear that? I know she's had a difficult pregnancy but really, I think I've won the bad pregnancy lotto. They will actually have PIG to hold, to love, to kiss, to smell that wonderful baby smell. I may never have that. I just lost a baby 6 weeks ago, woman! I had to bite my tongue (literally - it's still sore) to keep from screaming at her. For someone who professes to be so pro-life, she sure disregarded the life of my child, and the grief we are still slogging through.

Speaking of grief, I had my first therapy appointment this week. It went well, but as I've suspected for a while, I am clinically depressed. Blah. Therapist Lady (I just noticed as I was typing that therapist = the rapist. How telling.) thinks I should be medicated. I agreed at the time, but am now having some second thoughts. The side effects of a lot of these drugs scare me. Weight gain? If you think I'm depressed now, watch what happens if I put on twenty pounds. Loss of sex drive? I'm trying to get pregnant! I have a phone call in to her to talk it over, and to let her know that my wonderful RE called in a prescription for Zoloft (Therapist Lady is a psychologist, so she can't prescribe, and had me set up an appointment to see someone in her office who can). It's a moot point for now anyway, since we're going to Mexico next week and I don't want to start anything, if I do at all, until we get back.

In other news, Hubby almost killed us both last night. I do most of the cooking around here, but I just don't cook breakfast stuff well at all. Last night, I was in the mood for brinner (breakfast for dinner. Thanks, Scrubs). He cooked bacon and eggs. The eggs were wonderful, but the bacon tasted odd to me. And so I asked Hubby what kind of bacon he used, and learned that it was maple smoked bacon. "Oh," I thought as I scarfed it down. "That explains the taste." Only it didn't. Our after dinner conversation went down like this:

Hubby: Well, that was the last of the bacon.
Me: (knowing that we had just purchased an entire package of bacon and hadn't opened it yet, and we each only ate three or four pieces with brinner) Really? That was a whole package?
Hubby: (looking at me like I'm dense) No, just what was left in the package.
Me: (confused) When did you open the package?
Hubby: I have no idea. It was in the crisper drawer.
Me: (knowing that the bacon we had just purchased was NOT in the crisper drawer) Oh, shit. That was some really old bacon.

I have no clue when that maple bacon was purchased, but it was definitely at least several months ago. The package had been opened probably for close to that long. I have no idea how I missed it when I cleaned out the fridge a couple of weeks ago, but I did. I also have no idea why he would cook that bacon when he was the one who picked out the new bacon, and put it away, most definitely not in the crisper, but he did. Luckily, we didn't get seriously ill but we've both made some mad dashes to the crapper today, and as I am writing this I'm skipping the gym because I'd like to avoid shitting my pants in a room full of other people. I guess from now on I'll be frying up the bacon around here.