I am trying really hard here to keep my mind off the various maybe pregnant, maybe still hormonally screwed up, maybe pregnant and about to have another miscarriage scenarios. I have been keeping up on laundry like a fifties' housewife. I cleaned out the refrigerator. I made an art project with Addy (well, I MADE it and she decorated it with stickers.) I went to my niece's birthday party. I worked out for an hour, and then, when the endorphins from the exercise weren't quite doing the trick, I drove through a diner and bought two pieces of pie. One of which I ate with my bare hands while driving home, as Addy fretted vocally in the backseat about my lack of utensil and the fact that I was making A Mess! It helped a little. The second piece helped even more.
Today I am watching my nephews for a few hours this afternoon, and I think we'll all go to the park. Tomorrow Addy and her cousins are going to a Disney Music Program that the local symphony is putting on, complete with giant Disney princesses and the possibility of photo ops, so that should be fun, too. That will see me through to Monday.
I also took a pregnancy test this morning. Which was negative, and not surprising, given that it's the absolute earliest day I could have gotten a positive anyways and I've never been blessed with OVERABUNDANT hormones the likes of which produce positive pregnancy tests days before I'm even late. But it was still a big sigh, and it's still that ominous stick tucked in my bathroom drawer that I have to keep obsessively monitoring as though it is a newborn swaddled in its bassinet.
Which, you know, it kind of is.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Friday, March 20, 2009
Jury's Still Out
The nurse did finally call this morning around 10. My progesterone level was 9.88. Which is... Not thrilling. But also, given that my level was a flat 9 the last time I took Clomid and I did in fact end up being pregnant, I'm not feeling completely hopeless either. The nurse on the phone was not encouraging at all, though, which was pretty depressing. She gave me the news all sympathetically, then continued, "This is a VERY low level, so the doctor wants you to take Clomid again next cycle, but then take Prometrium (a synthetic progesterone) as well as soon as you ovulate until you either get your period or get a positive pregnancy test. And then hopefully we'll at least get your hormone levels where they should be." Basically she was acting as though this cycle was a wash, and the plan was to just start fresh next month.
I explained to her that without Clomid, my usual day 21 progesterone level is only 5, which elicited an (overdramatic) GASP from her. Then I explained that my last progesterone level, drawn when pregnant, was still only a 9, so I wasn't ready to completely give up on this cycle. I mean, 9.8 is higher than 9, so it's not OUT OF THE QUESTION that I could be pregnant. So the nurse went to ask the doctor if I should maybe go ahead with the Prometrium supplements THIS cycle just in case I am pregnant and, as usual, need the extra hormone boost. The doctor said it "couldn't hurt," so I am now supposed to take this pill at night while I wait for either period or positive test. The bottle of pills was fifty dollars, just fyi. Not covered. There is no more satisfying way to spend money than on health care, huh? Unless maybe it's YARD DRAINAGE or CAR REPAIRS. Those are equally thrilling.
I felt pretty let down after the whole discussion. I mean, I'm relieved that the level wasn't horribly low. I'm relieved that it wasn't insanely HIGH, also, because then I would pretty much have to assume twins at least. Which I just feel nervous about, still. But I was SO hoping that this time my body would have gotten itself into gear, conceived a little zygote, and them produced the proper amount of hormones to indicate pregnancy and to support said zygote without additional pharmaceutical help. (Also, I'm annoyed that the pharmaceutical help has listed as a side effect "severe dizziness." I have a strong aversion to even the hint of dizziness after the Great Illness of August '07.)
I mean, maybe I'm just not pregnant, too, in which case my body DID succesfully produce the proper amount of hormones. But the nurse acted like my numbers were low even for a non-pregnant cycle. That's different than what was said online, but I guess I'll go with the doctor's opinion on this one and not the Internetz.
Grrr. I'm just tired of monitoring and worrying about the state of my reproductive system. It's beginning to feel like a second JOB.
Edit: I don't want to sound overly whiny here. I know many people have health problems that require constant monitoring their entire lives, and they just deal. Like diabetes, for example. So this isn't a big deal comparatively speaking. And of course there's the obvious retort to all my complaining: "How much can you really say about your miscarriages and your fertility problems when you do HAVE two beautiful kids already?"
I think it's just that expectations are a killer. When you're kinda young still, you just expect things to go smoothly for you, health wise. Particularly in the area of babies. That is one of the supposed perks of having your kids young. So this is just more of me pouting about it being any kind of trouble at all to get or stay pregnant. Take it for what it's worth, and understand that I KNOW how lucky I already am.
Second edit: I did more research on prometrium and apparently it's not a synthetic, it's just the brand name by which the pill form of natural progesterone is know. So that makes me feel better.
I explained to her that without Clomid, my usual day 21 progesterone level is only 5, which elicited an (overdramatic) GASP from her. Then I explained that my last progesterone level, drawn when pregnant, was still only a 9, so I wasn't ready to completely give up on this cycle. I mean, 9.8 is higher than 9, so it's not OUT OF THE QUESTION that I could be pregnant. So the nurse went to ask the doctor if I should maybe go ahead with the Prometrium supplements THIS cycle just in case I am pregnant and, as usual, need the extra hormone boost. The doctor said it "couldn't hurt," so I am now supposed to take this pill at night while I wait for either period or positive test. The bottle of pills was fifty dollars, just fyi. Not covered. There is no more satisfying way to spend money than on health care, huh? Unless maybe it's YARD DRAINAGE or CAR REPAIRS. Those are equally thrilling.
I felt pretty let down after the whole discussion. I mean, I'm relieved that the level wasn't horribly low. I'm relieved that it wasn't insanely HIGH, also, because then I would pretty much have to assume twins at least. Which I just feel nervous about, still. But I was SO hoping that this time my body would have gotten itself into gear, conceived a little zygote, and them produced the proper amount of hormones to indicate pregnancy and to support said zygote without additional pharmaceutical help. (Also, I'm annoyed that the pharmaceutical help has listed as a side effect "severe dizziness." I have a strong aversion to even the hint of dizziness after the Great Illness of August '07.)
I mean, maybe I'm just not pregnant, too, in which case my body DID succesfully produce the proper amount of hormones. But the nurse acted like my numbers were low even for a non-pregnant cycle. That's different than what was said online, but I guess I'll go with the doctor's opinion on this one and not the Internetz.
Grrr. I'm just tired of monitoring and worrying about the state of my reproductive system. It's beginning to feel like a second JOB.
Edit: I don't want to sound overly whiny here. I know many people have health problems that require constant monitoring their entire lives, and they just deal. Like diabetes, for example. So this isn't a big deal comparatively speaking. And of course there's the obvious retort to all my complaining: "How much can you really say about your miscarriages and your fertility problems when you do HAVE two beautiful kids already?"
I think it's just that expectations are a killer. When you're kinda young still, you just expect things to go smoothly for you, health wise. Particularly in the area of babies. That is one of the supposed perks of having your kids young. So this is just more of me pouting about it being any kind of trouble at all to get or stay pregnant. Take it for what it's worth, and understand that I KNOW how lucky I already am.
Second edit: I did more research on prometrium and apparently it's not a synthetic, it's just the brand name by which the pill form of natural progesterone is know. So that makes me feel better.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Aaargh
I am about to jump out of my skin. The doctor's office called to tell me my results were in, but I missed the call so they left a message. I called back, literally WRINGING MY HANDS in anticipaion, only to be told that they had been given VERBAL confirmation of my results but that the fax with the SPECIFIC results wasn't in yet and they'd be sure to call me when it did come.
Well. Their office closes at four thirty. It is four twenty-three. No call. I am going to die. This is worse than waiting for a boy to call you back.
Well. Their office closes at four thirty. It is four twenty-three. No call. I am going to die. This is worse than waiting for a boy to call you back.
Two Week Wait, Desperate-Style
I am a little Wound. Up. this morning. I am not a morning person at all, but I woke up as perky as could be, and stared at the ceiling, counting and recounting days and trying to figure out if today was like, RIDICULOUSLY early to be testing or if it was just KINDA early to be testing. I finally reached the conclusion that today would be a total money-down-the-drain test, especially since I have never once gotten an early positive result even when I definitely was pregnant, so I got up and went about the morning routine without breaking out the hpt. But OH it was hard.
Then I called the doctor's office to see if my progesterone levels from my blood draw yesterday were in yet, even though the lady at the lab said probably not until tomorrow morning. And she was right. But I'm still glad I called, 'cause the nurse on the phone said they usually don't call the patient at all unless the results are abnormal. I replied, a little frantically, "Well, I want to know EXACT NUMBERS!" She said she'd make a note in my chart that I WANT TO BE CALLED WITH THE EXACT NUMBER PLEASE RIGHT AWAY KTHANX!
THEN I got online and checked out normal progesterone levels for a day 21 draw, both in a regular cycle (at least 8) and in a pregnant cycle (at least 16). So I am all set to obsessively evaluate my exact result and jump to a conclusion! Though even that will have an element of iffyness, since with Eli my day 21 draw was a 9, which is WAY LOW and made me think there was no way I was pregnant, and yet by day 30 it was up to 19, which was acceptable for a healthy pregnancy.
And, uh, THEN I went to peeonastick.com and carefully checked out all the pictures of positive results people have gotten as early as 10 days past ovulation. Pondered whether or not I chose the right hpt. Pondered whether I maybe SHOULD test tomorrow after all (tomorrow being 9 to 10 days past.) You never know.
Drank my second cup of coffee and decided I needed some protein, so I heated up a little pan and cracked in an egg. The egg? Had two yolks. I swear to you, I felt my heart SKIP A BEAT. Because, you know, IT'S A SIGN!
Boy, I sure just take things easy and go with the flow and don't over think things AT ALL, huh?
Then I called the doctor's office to see if my progesterone levels from my blood draw yesterday were in yet, even though the lady at the lab said probably not until tomorrow morning. And she was right. But I'm still glad I called, 'cause the nurse on the phone said they usually don't call the patient at all unless the results are abnormal. I replied, a little frantically, "Well, I want to know EXACT NUMBERS!" She said she'd make a note in my chart that I WANT TO BE CALLED WITH THE EXACT NUMBER PLEASE RIGHT AWAY KTHANX!
THEN I got online and checked out normal progesterone levels for a day 21 draw, both in a regular cycle (at least 8) and in a pregnant cycle (at least 16). So I am all set to obsessively evaluate my exact result and jump to a conclusion! Though even that will have an element of iffyness, since with Eli my day 21 draw was a 9, which is WAY LOW and made me think there was no way I was pregnant, and yet by day 30 it was up to 19, which was acceptable for a healthy pregnancy.
And, uh, THEN I went to peeonastick.com and carefully checked out all the pictures of positive results people have gotten as early as 10 days past ovulation. Pondered whether or not I chose the right hpt. Pondered whether I maybe SHOULD test tomorrow after all (tomorrow being 9 to 10 days past.) You never know.
Drank my second cup of coffee and decided I needed some protein, so I heated up a little pan and cracked in an egg. The egg? Had two yolks. I swear to you, I felt my heart SKIP A BEAT. Because, you know, IT'S A SIGN!
Boy, I sure just take things easy and go with the flow and don't over think things AT ALL, huh?
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Fresh Air
St. Patty's Day brought unseasonably warm temps and a gorgeous sunny day. We spent about an hour and a half running around the local playground with Aunt Laura and some friends, despite Eli's grouchy mood from receiving his final HiB vaccine earlier that day. He perked up considerably after experiencing the thrill of the swings once again, however, and was soon running around, climbing up and over things and going down the slides (with a little help.) It's so crazy to think that last summer he couldn't even WALK and my main concern was keeping him from eating little pebbles and getting stepped on by the big kids.
We ran around outside the night before that, too, playing soccer for about an hour and forcing poor, cooped up Fonzie to perform many repetitions of the "jump in the air and grab the stick from our hand" trick. It was so, so, SO great to be outdoors again, and for it to still be light out after dinner! I feel like I survived this winter without going TOO nuts, but man am I happy that it's over! KNOCK ON WOOD.
We ran around outside the night before that, too, playing soccer for about an hour and forcing poor, cooped up Fonzie to perform many repetitions of the "jump in the air and grab the stick from our hand" trick. It was so, so, SO great to be outdoors again, and for it to still be light out after dinner! I feel like I survived this winter without going TOO nuts, but man am I happy that it's over! KNOCK ON WOOD.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Ranting, With Bonus Belly Pictures
Last night we were at a wedding with lots of people we know from around town but don't really see that much outside of weddings/high school reunions, etc. They all asked the standard questions, "So how many kids do you guys want? Are you having any more?" And other than a single solitary woman, everyone acted various levels of shocked/HORRIFIED when told that we are trying again and that we want at least four kids.
Now, I know the AVERAGE is two, but that means that at least half of the majority of the crowd that is NOT quite average has MORE than two, right? So it makes me feel kind of irritable to be treated like some kind of SOCIAL ANOMALY. Especially when people act all worried about how we're going to AFFORD all these kids and how we're going to have ROOM for them and such. I think that's our business, folks! Also: not everyone believes that they owe each of their kids a private bedroom, a brand new car at sixteen and a fully funded college education! I don't think I'd do some of that stuff even if we could afford it.
People tend to act especially shocked when told that you're taking any kind of fertility drugs when you've already got kids. Like just because you have two- and ONE OF EACH, in fact!- that you're being kind of greedy or crazy to try so actively for more.
All that to explain why I was looking through some of my old pregnancy pictures, trying to cheer myself up again about possibly being pregnant. Then I thought, what the hey, let's let everyone take a peak at pregnant Sarah. Misery loves company.
I'm about six months pregnant with Addy here. And rocking some REALLY sexy pajamas.
On bedrest for Adelay, so about eight months along. Bedrest with her was MUCH easier than with Eli. Probably because I wasn't quite as huge, and also didn't have a toddler running around being cared for by other people while I watched from the sidelines and felt guilty!
About five months along with Eli here. My face hasn't gone totally puffy yet. Although I do look frighteningly pale... I think this was right after my knee surgery, so I'd probably been spending a lot of time indoors.
Getting bigger. Seven or eight months here, probably. Belly button hasn't popped yet.
...AND there's the belly button. This was about a week after I'd been allowed up from bedrest with Eli, and I was still recovering from that wicked inner ear infection thing that had me throwing up every time I moved. So if I look really giddy for a nine months' pregnant woman, I'm probably just so excited to be WALKING and wearing NORMAL CLOTHES and not PUKING UP MY GUTS!
Now, I know the AVERAGE is two, but that means that at least half of the majority of the crowd that is NOT quite average has MORE than two, right? So it makes me feel kind of irritable to be treated like some kind of SOCIAL ANOMALY. Especially when people act all worried about how we're going to AFFORD all these kids and how we're going to have ROOM for them and such. I think that's our business, folks! Also: not everyone believes that they owe each of their kids a private bedroom, a brand new car at sixteen and a fully funded college education! I don't think I'd do some of that stuff even if we could afford it.
People tend to act especially shocked when told that you're taking any kind of fertility drugs when you've already got kids. Like just because you have two- and ONE OF EACH, in fact!- that you're being kind of greedy or crazy to try so actively for more.
All that to explain why I was looking through some of my old pregnancy pictures, trying to cheer myself up again about possibly being pregnant. Then I thought, what the hey, let's let everyone take a peak at pregnant Sarah. Misery loves company.
I'm about six months pregnant with Addy here. And rocking some REALLY sexy pajamas.
On bedrest for Adelay, so about eight months along. Bedrest with her was MUCH easier than with Eli. Probably because I wasn't quite as huge, and also didn't have a toddler running around being cared for by other people while I watched from the sidelines and felt guilty!
About five months along with Eli here. My face hasn't gone totally puffy yet. Although I do look frighteningly pale... I think this was right after my knee surgery, so I'd probably been spending a lot of time indoors.
Getting bigger. Seven or eight months here, probably. Belly button hasn't popped yet.
...AND there's the belly button. This was about a week after I'd been allowed up from bedrest with Eli, and I was still recovering from that wicked inner ear infection thing that had me throwing up every time I moved. So if I look really giddy for a nine months' pregnant woman, I'm probably just so excited to be WALKING and wearing NORMAL CLOTHES and not PUKING UP MY GUTS!
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Let's Just Forget THAT Happened...
Wow. Yesterday was just a beating, you guys. I woke up to pain radiating through my left side (that would be from the overachieving ovary) which stayed with me all day. I could barely move without wincing. And of course, now that I might be in the beginning stages of GESTATING, I felt weird taking the prescription painkillers which were given to me for my usual post-ovulatory pain. PSA: Tylenol Extra Strength doesn't do crap.
Later, I needed to grocery shop, which is always a treat with two kids anyways. Of course on this particular excursion Addy decided to have the sort of screaming fit which inspires complete strangers to whisper amongst themselves about "kids these days." The scenario was as follows: Addy is playing with her chap stick while sitting in the basket of the cart. Eli keeps turning around, enviously staring, grunting and pointing at the chap stick and occasionally trying to wrench it away from her. She momentarily allows him to hold it, then suddenly snatches it back and screams at him "It's mine! You share!"
Repeat this a few times and I'm losing my patience, so I instruct her to just hand the chap stick to me, and tell her I will return it to her in the car where her poor little brother can't be driven insane with it. Addy complies without incident, but about five minutes later she must suddenly relive the injustice and trauma or something, because she bursts into hysterical sobs, begging incoherently for her chap stick and screaming at me that "Is mine! You share, Mommy! You share my chap stick!"
Snot and tears are all over her face, and at this point I can't push the cart any farther for fear she's going to tip it over with her manic flailing. Everyone in a ten yard vicinity is staring at me. I pick her up out of the cart for her own safety, sustaining a few wild kicks and jabs in the process, and put her down, where she promptly crumples to the floor. "I! Want! My! Chap Stick!" she weeps into the filthy tile.
Now, everything in my psyche is screaming, "Give her the ever loving chap stick, you moron! You have placed yourself in a lose-lose scenario here, and the best thing you can do is cut your losses and spare yourself further humiliation." But the smidgen of parental wisdom that was left rattling in my brain intoned, "You had a perfectly good reason to confiscate the chap stick, and regardless, you cannot give in to this kind of behavior. If you cave, all she will learn is that you're more worried about being embarrassed in public than about sticking to the rules."
So I gathered up my resolve and continued pushing the cart. She followed behind me, sobbing and stumbling like a sloppy drunk, ranting at me alternately to "Gimme my CHAP! STICK!" and "Put me back! Put me back in the CART!" I would stop every minute or so, bend down so I could meet her eyes, and tell her as calmly as I could manage that I would put her back in the cart as soon as she could settle down, but that the chap stick was staying in my pocket until we got to the car.
It literally took about ten minutes (or it could have been a YEAR, for how slowly time dragged on) before she finally calmed down and put up her arms to be lifted back in the cart. Once settled in, she sniffed and asked in a shaky, piteous voice, "See the fishes please?"
So off I trudged, my face as red as it's ever been, to show her and Eli the fish tanks. Looking at her, gazing at the goldfish and softly exclaiming over the colors, you would never have guessed that two minutes earlier she had been behaving like the most appalling brat I'd ever seen.
Later into the shopping trip, Eli grabbed his milk cup from me and arced it backwards all over his sister, the groceries, and the floor of the shopping center. But really, that was just icing on the Exploding Cake of Doom that was this day. So was the woman behind me in the check-out line who lectured me about allowing Eli to suck his thumb because "it's such a hard habit to break. You should have started him on pacifiers instead." So was three of the grocery bags breaking while I was bringing them inside.
Ah well. Today is a fresh start. My side doesn't hurt so bad anymore, and I have a wedding to go to tonight! Without children! Should probably decide what I'm going to WEAR now... Is it sad that the few wedding-appropriate dresses I own are all MATERNITY dresses?
Later, I needed to grocery shop, which is always a treat with two kids anyways. Of course on this particular excursion Addy decided to have the sort of screaming fit which inspires complete strangers to whisper amongst themselves about "kids these days." The scenario was as follows: Addy is playing with her chap stick while sitting in the basket of the cart. Eli keeps turning around, enviously staring, grunting and pointing at the chap stick and occasionally trying to wrench it away from her. She momentarily allows him to hold it, then suddenly snatches it back and screams at him "It's mine! You share!"
Repeat this a few times and I'm losing my patience, so I instruct her to just hand the chap stick to me, and tell her I will return it to her in the car where her poor little brother can't be driven insane with it. Addy complies without incident, but about five minutes later she must suddenly relive the injustice and trauma or something, because she bursts into hysterical sobs, begging incoherently for her chap stick and screaming at me that "Is mine! You share, Mommy! You share my chap stick!"
Snot and tears are all over her face, and at this point I can't push the cart any farther for fear she's going to tip it over with her manic flailing. Everyone in a ten yard vicinity is staring at me. I pick her up out of the cart for her own safety, sustaining a few wild kicks and jabs in the process, and put her down, where she promptly crumples to the floor. "I! Want! My! Chap Stick!" she weeps into the filthy tile.
Now, everything in my psyche is screaming, "Give her the ever loving chap stick, you moron! You have placed yourself in a lose-lose scenario here, and the best thing you can do is cut your losses and spare yourself further humiliation." But the smidgen of parental wisdom that was left rattling in my brain intoned, "You had a perfectly good reason to confiscate the chap stick, and regardless, you cannot give in to this kind of behavior. If you cave, all she will learn is that you're more worried about being embarrassed in public than about sticking to the rules."
So I gathered up my resolve and continued pushing the cart. She followed behind me, sobbing and stumbling like a sloppy drunk, ranting at me alternately to "Gimme my CHAP! STICK!" and "Put me back! Put me back in the CART!" I would stop every minute or so, bend down so I could meet her eyes, and tell her as calmly as I could manage that I would put her back in the cart as soon as she could settle down, but that the chap stick was staying in my pocket until we got to the car.
It literally took about ten minutes (or it could have been a YEAR, for how slowly time dragged on) before she finally calmed down and put up her arms to be lifted back in the cart. Once settled in, she sniffed and asked in a shaky, piteous voice, "See the fishes please?"
So off I trudged, my face as red as it's ever been, to show her and Eli the fish tanks. Looking at her, gazing at the goldfish and softly exclaiming over the colors, you would never have guessed that two minutes earlier she had been behaving like the most appalling brat I'd ever seen.
Later into the shopping trip, Eli grabbed his milk cup from me and arced it backwards all over his sister, the groceries, and the floor of the shopping center. But really, that was just icing on the Exploding Cake of Doom that was this day. So was the woman behind me in the check-out line who lectured me about allowing Eli to suck his thumb because "it's such a hard habit to break. You should have started him on pacifiers instead." So was three of the grocery bags breaking while I was bringing them inside.
Ah well. Today is a fresh start. My side doesn't hurt so bad anymore, and I have a wedding to go to tonight! Without children! Should probably decide what I'm going to WEAR now... Is it sad that the few wedding-appropriate dresses I own are all MATERNITY dresses?
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Two
I had my mid cycle ultrasound today. I did ovulate on my own already, probably yesterday, so I didn't need the hcg shot. That was good. I uh, I ovulated TWO eggs, in fact. Or at least there were two very large follicles visible.
So um... Trying not to assume TWINS here. Doctor assured me that two follicles doesn't necessarily mean both eggs got picked up by the fallopian tubes. Or that even if they did, both didn't necessarily get fertilized. But still. She said my odds are probably one in ten of having twins. Normal odds are one in seventy. So that's... considerably HIGHER. Ahem.
The bright side is, I'd be getting two kids for the price of one in terms of pregnancy. And pregnancy is not that fun for me, so, score!
So um... Trying not to assume TWINS here. Doctor assured me that two follicles doesn't necessarily mean both eggs got picked up by the fallopian tubes. Or that even if they did, both didn't necessarily get fertilized. But still. She said my odds are probably one in ten of having twins. Normal odds are one in seventy. So that's... considerably HIGHER. Ahem.
The bright side is, I'd be getting two kids for the price of one in terms of pregnancy. And pregnancy is not that fun for me, so, score!
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Beginning To Feel It
Um, wow. So forget what I said about the Clomid not really affecting me that much! Today is day 14 of my cycle, so, you know, I'm either ovulating today or I'm very CLOSE to ovulating. And today? The hormones are killing me. Slowly and painfully. I'm irritable and snappish. I'm ravenously hungry. I've had a throbbing tension headache on and off all day, and it's beginning to feel like someone is tightening screws at my temples. I'm also extremely dizzy and lightheaded all of the sudden, which is a fairly common side effect, but I thought it either occurred or it didn't- I didn't expect to be perfectly fine and then wake up one day with a case of vertigo. I just feel fuzzy and disoriented, kind of like when you're beginning to feel the effects of alcohol. But not in a fun way. I was looking up at a shelf in our closet and almost blacked out.
Also, the drug has apparently erased all the grammar I ever knew, because I had to look up when to use "affect" and when to use "effect" in the above paragraph. I'm still not sure I've got it right.
Grr. I'd better be pregnant this cycle. I do not want to do this much longer!
Also, the drug has apparently erased all the grammar I ever knew, because I had to look up when to use "affect" and when to use "effect" in the above paragraph. I'm still not sure I've got it right.
Grr. I'd better be pregnant this cycle. I do not want to do this much longer!
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Numbered
First: I am so proud of myself. Because I finally took down the outdoor Christmas lights. On this, March 11th. Clearly, I am ALL OVER my to-do list.
Second: How can I be so astonishingly lazy about things like this yet be driven crazy if the ENTIRE house doesn't get dusted once a week? It's like there's some kind of... priority glitch in my brain. Perhaps there's a pill for this?
Third: I made cherry cobbler today. It was pretty darn good. I'm really rocking the fruit cobblers lately. But I still burnt my last batch of cookies. And the one before that, and the one before that. Cookies. They are my Everest.
Fourth: I am trying to enjoy a drink or two every night until Thursday (last day when I could possibly be ovulating.) Then it is all over for me, my friends, assuming the Clomid works. This sucks particularly since we have a wedding to go to on Saturday. But I never feel comfortable drinking if there's even the possibility I might be pregnant. So, I am currently downing a vodka and orange juice. Which explains my laziness about segue-ing my paragraphs!
Fifth: Tonight I got together with a couple of my friends and the conversation, as is inevitable, turned to pregnancy and birth. We were all telling (or more accurately, RE-telling) our respective birth stories, and it came out that of the three of us, I was the only one who in the end found that birthing was not QUITE as bad as I had expected. Everyone else thought, much worse.
And it's not that I thought labor or delivery was FUN or EASY or NOT excruciatingly PAINFUL. But I was amazed in the end that wussy old me got through it without losing it completely, without even wanting drugs (at least, not the second time. I believe the first time I suggested an epidural at nine and a half centimeters, and was greeted with a hearty laugh.) I also realized, upon re-hearing their stories, that my labors, up until transition/pushing phase at least, sounded much less painful and exhausting. I think I may have really lucked out in this department so far. So here's hoping that trend continues!
What do you think? If you have given birth, was it better, worse, or about what you expected?
Second: How can I be so astonishingly lazy about things like this yet be driven crazy if the ENTIRE house doesn't get dusted once a week? It's like there's some kind of... priority glitch in my brain. Perhaps there's a pill for this?
Third: I made cherry cobbler today. It was pretty darn good. I'm really rocking the fruit cobblers lately. But I still burnt my last batch of cookies. And the one before that, and the one before that. Cookies. They are my Everest.
Fourth: I am trying to enjoy a drink or two every night until Thursday (last day when I could possibly be ovulating.) Then it is all over for me, my friends, assuming the Clomid works. This sucks particularly since we have a wedding to go to on Saturday. But I never feel comfortable drinking if there's even the possibility I might be pregnant. So, I am currently downing a vodka and orange juice. Which explains my laziness about segue-ing my paragraphs!
Fifth: Tonight I got together with a couple of my friends and the conversation, as is inevitable, turned to pregnancy and birth. We were all telling (or more accurately, RE-telling) our respective birth stories, and it came out that of the three of us, I was the only one who in the end found that birthing was not QUITE as bad as I had expected. Everyone else thought, much worse.
And it's not that I thought labor or delivery was FUN or EASY or NOT excruciatingly PAINFUL. But I was amazed in the end that wussy old me got through it without losing it completely, without even wanting drugs (at least, not the second time. I believe the first time I suggested an epidural at nine and a half centimeters, and was greeted with a hearty laugh.) I also realized, upon re-hearing their stories, that my labors, up until transition/pushing phase at least, sounded much less painful and exhausting. I think I may have really lucked out in this department so far. So here's hoping that trend continues!
What do you think? If you have given birth, was it better, worse, or about what you expected?
Monday, March 09, 2009
Me and You and Our Friend Blue
-I think the hormones from the Clomid are starting to kick in. I feel, most of the time, more warm and fuzzy and sentimental than usual, but then when things take a turn for the absurdly awful (such as on Saturday,) I can feel the stress taking over every nerve of my body. Like PMS on steroids. I was feeling so crazy angry, too, which is unusual for me. Not even angry at the dog or Addy, per se, but more just at the UNIVERSE. At the mud, and at the rain for making it muddy, and at our yard for being low and soggy, and at the physiology of a toddler's body which makes accidents inevitable, and at myself for not orchestrating things better so none of these events would have occurred, let alone SIMULTANEOUSLY. Also, I'm still feeling sick and sinus-y and tired, and so I am mad at my body for not getting well faster.
-Speaking of not being well yet (nor are the kids, but that's another story,) can I just say that I MISS working out so much? I'm sorry, I know that's barfy and contemptible, but my body feels all pent up and restless and desperate to exert some actual effort beyond refilling sippee and coffee cups and refreshing everyone's cereal bowls. I don't know, maybe that's the Clomid too, but I am longing for the day when everyone feels well enough (or at least is not horking snot around too obviously) to go the Y again.
-And speaking of the Y, in the ten days or so that I haven't gone, I have lost five pounds! Since I haven't been eating any differently (if anything my diet has consisted of MORE processed crap) I can only assume this is muscle. So it really sucks that you can lose it that fast. BUT, let this comfort those of us who have been working out for a while and felt nothing was happening. Obviously some of that fat is at least getting CONVERTED into muscle, even if the scale isn't showing much change.
-Have I mentioned yet that Adelay is now the proud owner of a multitude of imaginary friends? Generally it's the Disney Princesses (blech,) specifically Cinderella, Snow White, and Sleeping Beauty (or as Addy calls her, Shake-a-booty.) There is also a magical horsey/unicorn who makes occasional appearances. Nothing gets you more brownie points than playing along and including these invisible friends in whatever you happen to be doing.
-Eli has grown frighteningly obsessed with Blue's Clues. He quivers with joy and chuckles uncontrollably when he hears the opening song, and as soon as the credits start appearing, he goes toddling across the room at breakneck speed to find a grown up to turn another episode on. This morning he was in bed with me, and I woke up to see him smiling toothily in his sleep. He kept giggling softly, then sighing in pleasure. I have no doubt that there was an episode of Blue's Clues reeling through his little brain. Yikes. Methinks it might be time to cut him off cold turkey.
-And who's THIS? Why, it's David, whose thrilling entry into the world I was privileged to witness about six weeks ago. You vaguely remember my wild, spastic delight over that, right? And look at him now! (Actually, this picture is two weeks old, but you get the idea.) Look at those bright eyes! Look at the tiny HAND waving! And oh, but you should feel him curled up on your shoulder! I have honest-to-God physical reactions every time I hold him, and I'm not even really a huge newborn fan. He's is SO SWEET! I want one. Preferably without the annoyance of pregnancy, kthax?
-Speaking of not being well yet (nor are the kids, but that's another story,) can I just say that I MISS working out so much? I'm sorry, I know that's barfy and contemptible, but my body feels all pent up and restless and desperate to exert some actual effort beyond refilling sippee and coffee cups and refreshing everyone's cereal bowls. I don't know, maybe that's the Clomid too, but I am longing for the day when everyone feels well enough (or at least is not horking snot around too obviously) to go the Y again.
-And speaking of the Y, in the ten days or so that I haven't gone, I have lost five pounds! Since I haven't been eating any differently (if anything my diet has consisted of MORE processed crap) I can only assume this is muscle. So it really sucks that you can lose it that fast. BUT, let this comfort those of us who have been working out for a while and felt nothing was happening. Obviously some of that fat is at least getting CONVERTED into muscle, even if the scale isn't showing much change.
-Have I mentioned yet that Adelay is now the proud owner of a multitude of imaginary friends? Generally it's the Disney Princesses (blech,) specifically Cinderella, Snow White, and Sleeping Beauty (or as Addy calls her, Shake-a-booty.) There is also a magical horsey/unicorn who makes occasional appearances. Nothing gets you more brownie points than playing along and including these invisible friends in whatever you happen to be doing.
-Eli has grown frighteningly obsessed with Blue's Clues. He quivers with joy and chuckles uncontrollably when he hears the opening song, and as soon as the credits start appearing, he goes toddling across the room at breakneck speed to find a grown up to turn another episode on. This morning he was in bed with me, and I woke up to see him smiling toothily in his sleep. He kept giggling softly, then sighing in pleasure. I have no doubt that there was an episode of Blue's Clues reeling through his little brain. Yikes. Methinks it might be time to cut him off cold turkey.
-And who's THIS? Why, it's David, whose thrilling entry into the world I was privileged to witness about six weeks ago. You vaguely remember my wild, spastic delight over that, right? And look at him now! (Actually, this picture is two weeks old, but you get the idea.) Look at those bright eyes! Look at the tiny HAND waving! And oh, but you should feel him curled up on your shoulder! I have honest-to-God physical reactions every time I hold him, and I'm not even really a huge newborn fan. He's is SO SWEET! I want one. Preferably without the annoyance of pregnancy, kthax?
Saturday, March 07, 2009
Not My Day
Isn't there a saying that deaths always come in threes? Does it also apply to just crappy events, period? Because if so then THIS SAYING IS TRUE I TELL YOU.
Exhibit A: Enormous dog gets it into his head to snake his way under the deck, that's SNAKE as in ON HIS FURRY BELLY, through the mud. Requires being hosed off- lucky for him it is warm today.
Exhibit B: Toddler decides to follow her mom onto the deck, presumably to observe the somewhat spirited washing of the dog, and mysteriously wearing her snow boats in the sixty degree weather. She suddenly gets a look of panic on her face and proceeds to pee (a lot) into her boots and in a giant puddle in front of the back door. This necessitates putting the now wet dog back on his chain in the muddy yard so I can strip down screaming, urine soaked child and put her back in the bathtub she just got out of ten minutes ago. I then have to retrieve dog, who is now freshly re-mudded, and rinse and dry him again, using three bath towels in the process and splattering my clothes. Let dog back inside, rinse puddle of pee off of deck, and put filthy towels/muddy clothes/peed in clothes into the wash to soak. Rinse off boots and leave on deck to dry.
Exhibit C: Son awakes with horrendous diaper explosion immediately following my return indoors. Screams and flails for ten minutes as I try to clean him up, all the while being lectured by Adelay to "leave him 'lone! He's crying! Leave him 'lone! Be nice, Mommy!"
Exhibit A: Enormous dog gets it into his head to snake his way under the deck, that's SNAKE as in ON HIS FURRY BELLY, through the mud. Requires being hosed off- lucky for him it is warm today.
Exhibit B: Toddler decides to follow her mom onto the deck, presumably to observe the somewhat spirited washing of the dog, and mysteriously wearing her snow boats in the sixty degree weather. She suddenly gets a look of panic on her face and proceeds to pee (a lot) into her boots and in a giant puddle in front of the back door. This necessitates putting the now wet dog back on his chain in the muddy yard so I can strip down screaming, urine soaked child and put her back in the bathtub she just got out of ten minutes ago. I then have to retrieve dog, who is now freshly re-mudded, and rinse and dry him again, using three bath towels in the process and splattering my clothes. Let dog back inside, rinse puddle of pee off of deck, and put filthy towels/muddy clothes/peed in clothes into the wash to soak. Rinse off boots and leave on deck to dry.
Exhibit C: Son awakes with horrendous diaper explosion immediately following my return indoors. Screams and flails for ten minutes as I try to clean him up, all the while being lectured by Adelay to "leave him 'lone! He's crying! Leave him 'lone! Be nice, Mommy!"
Friday, March 06, 2009
Name That Furniture Item!
A few updates on the remodel: I DID of course get the kitchen and the rest of the house cleaned up, and it didn't even take a year. It just felt like it. Then I quickly got a picture of the view from den to kitchen before anyone came along and messed up the acceptably tidy vision you see here:
Alas, a sassy three year old managed to find her way into the shot. Three year old then helped me demonstrate these lovely new (to us) ottomans/coffee tables/storage units which my parents handed down in lieu of our wobbly glass topped coffee table.
I'm really quite in love with these... things. I don't know where my parents got them originally, but if you're unhappy with your current coffee table (glass needs wiped on an HOURLY basis, for example) or your den needs more storage space or you sometimes wish for a footrest near your sofa, then LOOK NO FURTHER.
The tray tops flip to convert to a micro suede ottoman, and inside is roomy storage (we are using one for balls and the other for spare towels which we use to wipe our dog's muddy paws off when he returns from the backyard- these towels' previous location was "thrown somewhere on the floor by the door.") They are sturdy, but are not difficult to move around, so you can pull them up closer than a coffee table would normally be. You can also easily move them into another room for vacuuming. The... things also work well as extra seating in a pinch, at least for small kids who aren't worried about lumbar support.
Just don't try to figure out what they're called. Stools? Footrests? Large fabric covered boxes? Help me out here. (And also, try to avert your eyes from that mystery spot on the sofa cushion in photo #3. Yikes. I hope that's just weird lighting.)
Alas, a sassy three year old managed to find her way into the shot. Three year old then helped me demonstrate these lovely new (to us) ottomans/coffee tables/storage units which my parents handed down in lieu of our wobbly glass topped coffee table.
I'm really quite in love with these... things. I don't know where my parents got them originally, but if you're unhappy with your current coffee table (glass needs wiped on an HOURLY basis, for example) or your den needs more storage space or you sometimes wish for a footrest near your sofa, then LOOK NO FURTHER.
The tray tops flip to convert to a micro suede ottoman, and inside is roomy storage (we are using one for balls and the other for spare towels which we use to wipe our dog's muddy paws off when he returns from the backyard- these towels' previous location was "thrown somewhere on the floor by the door.") They are sturdy, but are not difficult to move around, so you can pull them up closer than a coffee table would normally be. You can also easily move them into another room for vacuuming. The... things also work well as extra seating in a pinch, at least for small kids who aren't worried about lumbar support.
Just don't try to figure out what they're called. Stools? Footrests? Large fabric covered boxes? Help me out here. (And also, try to avert your eyes from that mystery spot on the sofa cushion in photo #3. Yikes. I hope that's just weird lighting.)
Wednesday, March 04, 2009
Am Sick. But Clomid Seems To Agree With Me.
So everyone in our house is currently battling with/recovering from some mutant variety of cold/cough/flu, with the exception of myself, as I feel merely run down and achy and tired, but am not wheezing and hacking and dripping mucus all over the place like some sort of Typhoid Mary NOT THAT I AM BOTHERED BY ALL THIS MUCUS EVERYWHERE NO SIREE.
I am slightly bothered by the fact that for the last three nights in a row, Eli has awakened at two in the morning sobbing inconsolably for "Coos! Coos coos!" No, not that healthy, more exotic variation of rice. This is his name for Blue's Clues, with which he has rapidly become obsessed. And turning it on is the only way to get him to settle back down in the wee hours of the night, when his fever has spiked and my ability to think rationally has done the opposite. So for upwards of two hours, I have sat on the couch holding him, staring at Joe and Steve and Blue and Green Puppy and Magenta, dozing off repeatedly only to be awakened with a start by Eli's sudden yelps of protest as the episode ends and the screen returns to menu. I fumble for the remote, hit "enter," then proceed to let my head fall backwards into the cushions again.
In better news, I feel, if anything, more balanced and normal since starting the Clomid. I even feel (somewhat!) patient and zen about things that generally really irritate me (such as having watched all three of our Blue's Clues DVD's at least ten times apiece in the past week.) In a weird way, I feel more like myself than I have felt in the last six months. So maybe that miscarriage really had me screwed up hormonally, and the drugs can, if nothing else, get me in a more healthy state. Not that I've been raging and wildly moody up until now, but I've noticed in the last few months that I can get a tad more worked up about things than I used to.
I would just like to say, though, that I am very tired of talking on the phone to various pharmacists and nurses about my freaking hcg injection. When you're on Clomid, you're supposed to go in for an ultrasound mid-cycle to make sure you've ovulated promptly. Since this has been a problem for me in the past, the doctor gave me a prescription for an injection that I'm supposed to take with me to my upcoming appointment. If the ultrasound reveals that I haven't yet ovulated, I get this shot to make sure I do so immediately. Apparently this injection is not something my pharmacy fills for very often, because the first pharmacist was all baffled by it. "You know this is a SHOT, right?" she asked. "And it's really EXPENSIVE?" Yes, I knew, I assured her. "Well, we're going to have to order it for you. We never carry this. It might take awhile to get in. And your insurance isn't going to cover this, you know. Are you sure you want us to go ahead?"
What the...? Why would I bother taking the Clomid at all if I weren't going to follow through with the full treatment? Did she think I had asked for the injection as a little something extra just for fun, and didn't technically need it? And who just gives random strangers medical advise based on the supposed expense of a drug FOR WHICH THEY HAVE A PRESCRIPTION? FROM A DOCTOR? I just looked at her as though she was crazy and said, "Um, yes please!"
But then it didn't come in, and didn't come in, and two different suppliers were out of stock, and I was calling the dang pharmacy every day inquiring as to the status of a tiny, sixty-dollar vial of hormone cocktail which I may or may not even need based on my ultrasound. Fun times.
But. It is now in my possession, all but two of the Clomid tablets are in my bloodstream, and all that's left to do is actually REMEMBER to bring the hcg with me to the doctor's office!
I am slightly bothered by the fact that for the last three nights in a row, Eli has awakened at two in the morning sobbing inconsolably for "Coos! Coos coos!" No, not that healthy, more exotic variation of rice. This is his name for Blue's Clues, with which he has rapidly become obsessed. And turning it on is the only way to get him to settle back down in the wee hours of the night, when his fever has spiked and my ability to think rationally has done the opposite. So for upwards of two hours, I have sat on the couch holding him, staring at Joe and Steve and Blue and Green Puppy and Magenta, dozing off repeatedly only to be awakened with a start by Eli's sudden yelps of protest as the episode ends and the screen returns to menu. I fumble for the remote, hit "enter," then proceed to let my head fall backwards into the cushions again.
In better news, I feel, if anything, more balanced and normal since starting the Clomid. I even feel (somewhat!) patient and zen about things that generally really irritate me (such as having watched all three of our Blue's Clues DVD's at least ten times apiece in the past week.) In a weird way, I feel more like myself than I have felt in the last six months. So maybe that miscarriage really had me screwed up hormonally, and the drugs can, if nothing else, get me in a more healthy state. Not that I've been raging and wildly moody up until now, but I've noticed in the last few months that I can get a tad more worked up about things than I used to.
I would just like to say, though, that I am very tired of talking on the phone to various pharmacists and nurses about my freaking hcg injection. When you're on Clomid, you're supposed to go in for an ultrasound mid-cycle to make sure you've ovulated promptly. Since this has been a problem for me in the past, the doctor gave me a prescription for an injection that I'm supposed to take with me to my upcoming appointment. If the ultrasound reveals that I haven't yet ovulated, I get this shot to make sure I do so immediately. Apparently this injection is not something my pharmacy fills for very often, because the first pharmacist was all baffled by it. "You know this is a SHOT, right?" she asked. "And it's really EXPENSIVE?" Yes, I knew, I assured her. "Well, we're going to have to order it for you. We never carry this. It might take awhile to get in. And your insurance isn't going to cover this, you know. Are you sure you want us to go ahead?"
What the...? Why would I bother taking the Clomid at all if I weren't going to follow through with the full treatment? Did she think I had asked for the injection as a little something extra just for fun, and didn't technically need it? And who just gives random strangers medical advise based on the supposed expense of a drug FOR WHICH THEY HAVE A PRESCRIPTION? FROM A DOCTOR? I just looked at her as though she was crazy and said, "Um, yes please!"
But then it didn't come in, and didn't come in, and two different suppliers were out of stock, and I was calling the dang pharmacy every day inquiring as to the status of a tiny, sixty-dollar vial of hormone cocktail which I may or may not even need based on my ultrasound. Fun times.
But. It is now in my possession, all but two of the Clomid tablets are in my bloodstream, and all that's left to do is actually REMEMBER to bring the hcg with me to the doctor's office!
Sunday, March 01, 2009
Cleanliness Is Next To Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder
I've been wondering a lot about what is normal, in terms of tidiness, in the houses of other people with small children. I am kind of a neat freak, but I am not a person who relishes wasting literal HOURS of my day if there is no point to it whatsoever. And that is kind of how the picking up the house routine at the end of the day is beginning to feel. I still believe the actual CLEANING serves a purpose, that purpose being to help me feel in control of my environment even on the crazy days. So I will probably try to stick to the schedule I currently operate by in regards to actual household chores (that being, Mondays: dust, Tuesdays: vacuum, Wednesdays: clean bathroom, Thursdays: mop and dry dust main areas of house again, Fridays: dust mop the bedrooms and vacuum living room and den again.)
But its all the OTHER stuff that's killing me. The kitchen that needs swept up every day, sometimes every HOUR, the toys and general detritus that seem to just follow the kids around the house, the stacks of laundry waiting to be put away, the dog food that gets scattered around the utility room every time Fonzie eats. Tidying sometimes feels like a losing battle. I'm beginning to think I should just seriously leave the toys alone unless they're in my way for vacuuming. But on the other hand, does that make it difficult for the kids to play? And for me to function? I remember being little and, having let the playroom go from pleasantly messy to absolute chaos, feeling the urge to run away and play outside rather than even face it. So I don't want to create THAT kind of situation for myself, either.
What do you all do about tidiness? Is there a system in place, or rules about picking things up before bed? Bear in mind that my kids are young enough that only one of them is at all capable in terms of picking up after herself. And she'll do it, when asked, but more often than not I skip that part of the routine in favor of doing it myself- in a tenth of the time- once she's gone to bed. Is that a bad habit? Or do you do that too?
But its all the OTHER stuff that's killing me. The kitchen that needs swept up every day, sometimes every HOUR, the toys and general detritus that seem to just follow the kids around the house, the stacks of laundry waiting to be put away, the dog food that gets scattered around the utility room every time Fonzie eats. Tidying sometimes feels like a losing battle. I'm beginning to think I should just seriously leave the toys alone unless they're in my way for vacuuming. But on the other hand, does that make it difficult for the kids to play? And for me to function? I remember being little and, having let the playroom go from pleasantly messy to absolute chaos, feeling the urge to run away and play outside rather than even face it. So I don't want to create THAT kind of situation for myself, either.
What do you all do about tidiness? Is there a system in place, or rules about picking things up before bed? Bear in mind that my kids are young enough that only one of them is at all capable in terms of picking up after herself. And she'll do it, when asked, but more often than not I skip that part of the routine in favor of doing it myself- in a tenth of the time- once she's gone to bed. Is that a bad habit? Or do you do that too?
Friday, February 27, 2009
Here Goes Nothing
Gulp. Am about to take first dose of Clomid. Oh God, please not quadruplets, please not quadruplets, please not quadruplets...
Also, yes, I have noticed that my last three posts are more like Twitters. Son is still acting OFF, daughter hasn't napped for a week, and husband is deathly ill now, too. I have to prioritize. So that I can remember to take my FERTILITY DRUGS. GAAAH!
Also, yes, I have noticed that my last three posts are more like Twitters. Son is still acting OFF, daughter hasn't napped for a week, and husband is deathly ill now, too. I have to prioritize. So that I can remember to take my FERTILITY DRUGS. GAAAH!
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
The Maniacal Laughter Is Coming From My House
So, as of two AM today, Eli is TOO sick!
Suck it, Dr. Useless.
Suck it, Dr. Useless.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Free To Good Home (Only One Is Housebroken)
Wow, the kids are making me all KINDS of crazy today. Eli has been so screamy and obnoxious and unsleepy and unhungry and weird lately that I finally gave in and made him a doctor's appointment today, thinking he might have an ear infection. First, though, I had to go to the Y, feed the kids, shower, and pick up Breanna from school. Eli decided to have multiple throw himself on the floor, fling his head against the concrete and scream kind of fits when I went to pick the kids up from the childcare, because he has gone from loathing the daycare when he was an infant to loving it so much that he is now loathe to LEAVE it. The daycare worker shook her head in wonderment. "He is awfully angry lately, hmm?" Indeed.
I got home, then found three free Happy Meal or Extra Value Meal coupons to McDonalds in the mailbox (courtesy of Jim emailing corporate and complaining about not getting the correct food the last time we went, which to me seemed a bit... well, it got me free food, so I guess I can't complain.) Now, I KNEW Eli was already coming a bit unglued, but I was exhausted from wrestling him all the way from the basement daycare to the car half a mile away, and a quick easy meal sounded wonderful. So I pulled back out of the driveway and went to the nearby McDonalds. I only drove through, so it didn't add THAT much time to our total car trip, but Eli was a mess by the time I got us home.
I fed them, scarfed my own food, and took a quick shower, then put Eli down for a short nap before we had to leave again for Breanna. He only got about a half hour of sleep though, so by the time we picked her up and headed for the doctor's, he was grumpy again. By the time we got OUT of the doctor's, he was beyond grumpy. Breanna said that she could hear both kids yelling and clambering around the entire half hour she was waiting for us. What she couldn't see was that they were playing crazy circus games of crawling behind and under the exam table, trying to rip the blood pressure cuff off the wall, and throwing the little wheeled doctor's chair back and forth across the room. I was literally just running around like a crazy person, trying to restrain one child while the other wriggled away from me to find more (loud, embarrassing) mischief to get into. I was hissing and issuing threats and trying to enforce time-outs on my lap and just generally flailing around uselessly. Also, Eli chose that time to have a giant poo and of course I had left the diaper bag in the car. So imagine all of the mayhem PLUS bonus Lysol and Feces aroma.
By the time we got out of there (leaving rolls of shredded tissue-y exam table covering paper in our wake,) the doctor had sympathetically patted my shoulder no less than three times. Also, did I mention that in order to get Eli's weight, I finally had to get on the scale WITH him, then be weighed alone, to subtract the difference? Nothing like unexpectedly getting weighed when you've just eaten salty fast food and are bloated and PMS-y.
Anyways, he's still screaming. And flinging food and toys and himself all over the place. Even though he DOESN'T have an ear infection, or any other sort of malady. Well, other than being an infant. Glad we got to pay seventy dollars (thanks for changing our insurance, husband's workplace!) to find that out.
I got home, then found three free Happy Meal or Extra Value Meal coupons to McDonalds in the mailbox (courtesy of Jim emailing corporate and complaining about not getting the correct food the last time we went, which to me seemed a bit... well, it got me free food, so I guess I can't complain.) Now, I KNEW Eli was already coming a bit unglued, but I was exhausted from wrestling him all the way from the basement daycare to the car half a mile away, and a quick easy meal sounded wonderful. So I pulled back out of the driveway and went to the nearby McDonalds. I only drove through, so it didn't add THAT much time to our total car trip, but Eli was a mess by the time I got us home.
I fed them, scarfed my own food, and took a quick shower, then put Eli down for a short nap before we had to leave again for Breanna. He only got about a half hour of sleep though, so by the time we picked her up and headed for the doctor's, he was grumpy again. By the time we got OUT of the doctor's, he was beyond grumpy. Breanna said that she could hear both kids yelling and clambering around the entire half hour she was waiting for us. What she couldn't see was that they were playing crazy circus games of crawling behind and under the exam table, trying to rip the blood pressure cuff off the wall, and throwing the little wheeled doctor's chair back and forth across the room. I was literally just running around like a crazy person, trying to restrain one child while the other wriggled away from me to find more (loud, embarrassing) mischief to get into. I was hissing and issuing threats and trying to enforce time-outs on my lap and just generally flailing around uselessly. Also, Eli chose that time to have a giant poo and of course I had left the diaper bag in the car. So imagine all of the mayhem PLUS bonus Lysol and Feces aroma.
By the time we got out of there (leaving rolls of shredded tissue-y exam table covering paper in our wake,) the doctor had sympathetically patted my shoulder no less than three times. Also, did I mention that in order to get Eli's weight, I finally had to get on the scale WITH him, then be weighed alone, to subtract the difference? Nothing like unexpectedly getting weighed when you've just eaten salty fast food and are bloated and PMS-y.
Anyways, he's still screaming. And flinging food and toys and himself all over the place. Even though he DOESN'T have an ear infection, or any other sort of malady. Well, other than being an infant. Glad we got to pay seventy dollars (thanks for changing our insurance, husband's workplace!) to find that out.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
A Birth Story Of Sorts
Yes, the room is done at last. Well, SUPER close. I still need to get something on the windows (ideas are welcome!) and there are a couple pieces of trim that we have to buy and stain, to fill in the spots where Jim tore out the old radiators. But we went ahead and put everything back anyways, because SOMEONE was getting mighty impatient to have the dusty love seat out of the KITCHEN. Ahem.
It was not done on Monday after all, or Tuesday or Wednesday either. Got CLOSE on Thursday. And finally finished Friday. But it was worth the wait. I should really have taken more before pictures of the room, what with the water-stained ceiling tiles such as you might see in a dingy middle school cafeteria, the paneled walls and the narrow doorway that I could barely fit through when pregnant. The knocking out of the dividing wall was probably the best part of the whole project. Made the kitchen AND the den look so much bigger.
The wreckage that was our kitchen. Also, though you can't see it in the picture, imagine every single solitary thing in this room covered in a quarter inch of plaster dust.
The doorway being mudded. And sanded, and r-emudded, and re-sanded. Lather, rinse, repeat.
Jim and his friend Jamie working on the inside of the door. That plastic sheet did little to keep the dust at bay. And then at last, drum roll please....
Finished product. The red turned out nice, huh?
Desk area. I probably should have hidden all the cords a little better. Also, there at the floor you can see where it still needs trimmed up. But still. Vast improvement on old desk area.
More couch area.
This is where it steps up to the kitchen. I was going to take pictures from the desk area looking into the kitchen from the den, so you'd get the full effect of the new and improved wide doorway. But alas, the rest of our house is still a WEE bit untidy and disorganized, and I was too excited to post these pictures to wait until I got the whole kitchen cleaned. So those will follow in about a YEAR when I finally get the floor clean! Until then, I'll be busy lying around on the couch staring in disbelieving wonder at the gorgeous room that has somehow landed in our yucky old den!
It was not done on Monday after all, or Tuesday or Wednesday either. Got CLOSE on Thursday. And finally finished Friday. But it was worth the wait. I should really have taken more before pictures of the room, what with the water-stained ceiling tiles such as you might see in a dingy middle school cafeteria, the paneled walls and the narrow doorway that I could barely fit through when pregnant. The knocking out of the dividing wall was probably the best part of the whole project. Made the kitchen AND the den look so much bigger.
The wreckage that was our kitchen. Also, though you can't see it in the picture, imagine every single solitary thing in this room covered in a quarter inch of plaster dust.
The doorway being mudded. And sanded, and r-emudded, and re-sanded. Lather, rinse, repeat.
Jim and his friend Jamie working on the inside of the door. That plastic sheet did little to keep the dust at bay. And then at last, drum roll please....
Finished product. The red turned out nice, huh?
Desk area. I probably should have hidden all the cords a little better. Also, there at the floor you can see where it still needs trimmed up. But still. Vast improvement on old desk area.
More couch area.
This is where it steps up to the kitchen. I was going to take pictures from the desk area looking into the kitchen from the den, so you'd get the full effect of the new and improved wide doorway. But alas, the rest of our house is still a WEE bit untidy and disorganized, and I was too excited to post these pictures to wait until I got the whole kitchen cleaned. So those will follow in about a YEAR when I finally get the floor clean! Until then, I'll be busy lying around on the couch staring in disbelieving wonder at the gorgeous room that has somehow landed in our yucky old den!
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