Tuesday, July 31, 2012

Indulge me a moment while I wander down this dark path….

I read a recent post from A’Dell about how she found out that she was pregnant with her third child *SURPRISE* She struggled with fertility in conceiving her first two so the SURPRISE is a few font size bigger then represented here. Her post got me thinking….

What if my family is already here? What if we’re not meant to have another child? I know that each person facing fertility needs to decide their own limits of how far they will be go in trying to conceive/get a baby. And you hope that your partner has similar thoughts, or at least agrees. But what I’m talking about is the small things that I don’t know that relished enough with The Boy: the planning for the arrival; the squishiness of newborns; the squeaky little sighs; the emerging personality; the breast feeding (I feel like I fell down on the job with The Boy and really want to try it again and show motherhood I can do it. Com’on coach put me in!). All of these things I feel in every fiber of my being that I HAVE to do one more time. It just has to be.

What we (me and Juanito) have not discussed is what if this very primal need to have a baby does not subside after Number 2? We’ll cross that road when we come to it Juanito. No need to worry now. For now.

Monday, July 30, 2012

There's a party in my tummy!

I mentioned before that I kinda like the Olympics, so we hosted an Opening Ceremony Party. It was, well....

To begin with The Boy spent the day at his aunt's house with his cousins where he decided that a 45 minute nap (versus his hour and half nap) would suffice. By the time they made it to the house for the party he was well past dinner time and chugging cherry limeade (which he promptly spilled in the middle of the living room). Awesome. He was amped to like 50 mph and the decibel level was up there too. Add in two babies who are trying to walking, my nephew Cee and my niece Red and another kid and then the "adult supervision" of seven adults, some of which started drinking every time a country came around that we didn't know where it was....well needless to say it was a little, well, wild? Ya, wild is a good word.

So the menu was to be English-like. I had fish and chips with malted vinegar and even made Welsh Rarebit. (50% of the people liked it and 50% didn't and I believe those that liked it just said that to not hurt my feelings. Which they weren't.) My sister brought bread pudding made by Red and some other friends brought English beer and some brought English cheese. And another brought fruit salad in case everything went horribly wrong and at least we had fruit for everyone. With my left over 4th of July decorations we were quite festive. Oh I also raided the local Walmart (yes Walmart) for exotic candy. We had Cadburry which is HM Royal Chocolatier and Milktinis from Poland and Toblerone from Switzerland (not England or German which was the common misconception) and some pretty fucked chocolate from Venezuela. One was dark chocolate, chipotle and pop rocks which Juanito told someone later if was like eating chocolate that blew up in your brain and set your mouth on fire. I equated it to drinking whiskey only not as good. The other one was chocolate, chiles and cinnamon. I liked that one better in fact I want it with marshmallows. Everyone tried a little bit of everything, including Cee who is notorious for not eating, well everything.

Luckily The Boy went to bed a little late but successfully. There were questions about if he would actually go to sleep since there was a house full but he did it like a champ. Might help that he was probably exhausted and crashing from his sugar high.

We had so much fun that everyone said at the end that we should do the same for the Closing Ceremony too. But since that is on a Sunday night, right before school starts back up I don't see that happening. I wish I had photos to share but honestly probably wouldn't put them here without everyone's consent... Anyways I apparently don't have great geographical knowledge of Africa so my picture taking abilities may have diminished over the evening.

Friday, July 27, 2012

Follow Up: Still Need Flame Thrower

So we attemtped the whole strip The Boy naked and hope for the best potty training technique last night. And this is how that went....

He came inside from playing in the sprinkler and Juanito went to change him out of his trunks while I'm following them through the house explaining this concept.  We decided to give a go.  I was still blabbering expressing my thoughts and concerns about letting a kid who can't control his bladder sit on my brand new couch when Juanito let him loose.  Balls and buns a swingin'  He prompty ran to the couch, climbed on with his entourage of blankets and stuff animals. I think I gave one last fretful sigh and we sat down to watch the evening news. 

Two minutes barely passed before he was up and wandering around.  Juanito asked what he wanted and I told him to be quiet cuz I wanted to see what he was gonna do with his new naked freedom.  Pretty soon The Boy with a diaper in one hand and his clothes in the other presented them to Juanito demanding to be dressed. 

Any other suggestions??

Thursday, July 26, 2012


I realized the other day while walking through the office that I have an internal dialogue constantly running.  Perhaps those of you who are more self-aware already knew that about yourself.  And maybe I've realized this about myself before and there are just times that it’s more prevalent.  And is that’s the case; I had one of those moments the other day.  I realized that I was telling, well, me about the barrette on the floor and the fear I have of opening the door to the hallway into someone’s face, specifically one of the vice presidents’ face.  Or, upon discovery that one of the stalls in the ladies’ room was “out of order” I discussed the assumption that someone flushed a feminine hygiene product down even though those super effective signs taped to the back side of the stall doors tell you not to.  I then countered back to, well, me, is this an indication that women are gross or that there are more women in the work force?  Speaking of, this is the first Olympics where there are more women on the US team than men.  The news report says that this statistic is a testament to Title IX (or something like that) that allowed women to compete in more events.  I think it just shows that US couples are adopting the unwanted Asian baby girls and they are kicking some Olympic ass.  (Mind you I don’t even know if there are adopted children on the team let alone Asian-Americans so don’t go quoting me).   These are the random blathering that I entertain myself with and apparently I’ve started sharing them with you.  Damn you're lucky.

Set some shit on fire

Ok so lets embrace the mommy side of me for a moment and lets talk potty training.  Everyone has a cutesy story about how their kid learned how to go on the toilet.  In like a weekend.  Well pin a rose on your rose because that ain't happening over here!  When The Boy turned two we got all the essentials to start potty training.  Pulls ups (or the Walmart knock-off) and Big Boy underwear and books about peeing and pooping and potties or a step stool for every bathroom including one that would be used in public potties.  We were all stocked up and ready to go.  He expressed a little bit of interest.  Which meant he followed us into the bathroom Investigating exactly what we were doing in there. He followed the kids at day care to the bathrooom.  There was interest.  It was encouraging.  So we thought GAME ON!!  And then his interest stopped.  (Did we spook him??)

For one weekend he willingly participated in sitting on the potty every 15-30 minutes.  The closest we came to him doing anything in the potty (other than sticking his finger in the water every now and then) was when Juanito dumped the poop into the potty so we could finally flush something other than the three inch corner of toilet paper The Boy ripped off, dusted his junk with and then threw into the toilet.

Ever since then if you ask him anything about the potty the response is, "No." 

"You wanna go potty?"
"Are you sure?"
"How about if you just try?"
"Are you sure?"
"Wanna shoot fruit loops in the potty?"
"Wanna watch Daddy go potty?"
"No." (Good cuz Daddy didn't like peeing in front of the family, dogs included.)
"Wanna throw stuff in the potty?"
"You wanna go potty?"
"Wanna see if a magic fairy comes out of the potty?"
"Crackers!  There are crackers in the potty!  Do you..."

You're picking up what I'm laying down over here right?  No interest.  Its like potty is a trigger word for some emotional shut down!  We decided to fade out diapers (except for bedtime) and use only pull ups. 

That started out like a disaster.  He fought me to the point that we were both hysterically crying and one of us didn't have on pants or underwear. (I'll let you draw your own conclusions...).  And now that he is dealing with those, begrudgingly, it didn't have the effect I thought it would.  There is no new interest in his new pants or even a possible correlation to the potty.  He's like a honeybadger, he don't give a shit!

I've contemplated strapping him to putting him on the potty and making him sit there. But the kid won't even sit in the same spot for time outs I can't imagine him sitting on a stool that he has no interest in to do something that he doesn't seem to understand.  He is two and half and I feel like at this point we should start pushing the issue with him.  I read that we should just strip him down and let him wander around naked because it will make him more aware of his body.  I know that if you made me wonder around naked all the time I would be overly aware of my body.  But then again I can make the pee pee in the potty.  I can also poop in the potty.  Yep, I'm a big girl!  Don't mean to brag or anything...

So I digress.  Any thoughts from my very quiet peanut gallery?  How do I spark interest in the potty??  He is pretty stubborn and I'm afraid I need a big old flame thrower instead of a spark.

Wednesday, July 25, 2012

My twit is broken

Perhaps I'm not using my twitter correctly.  That a common problem for most woman.  You just need to play with your Twitter until you get to know what works for you. 
But after some time I've decided that I don't like Twitter.  Its stupid.  I feel like either I'm standing here shouting out nonsense to no one or I'm being shouted at.  Its not fun.

Oh, and along this sweet little play on words I was doing up there I read this article on what people call their lady parts.  I have a variety of different names for my nether-regions. Wah-hyna which I use just any old time I feel like it, Cooter is typically used if I'm in mixed company because Republicans get all weird about the female anatomy and playground for when I am signaling if the bat cave is open for business.

What about you?

Monday, July 23, 2012

Please forgive the lack of snark and the occasional sniffles

I know that I promised to write about the Walden trip and I know that I haven't done that but I feel like I'm struggling with it.  I have been reluctant to share too much of the Family of Origins (the family that I came from not the family I'm in now) here because well as you could gather from the frequent mentions of therapy its not always roses and rainbows. So with that in mind you would think that I would naturally need a soapbox or sounding board here to vent about my distorted family, but that would not be the case.  I am very afraid of them finding this blog and instead of saying "man you're a good writer" or "shit you're funny"  that they will be mad at me for writing about them. It is not my intention to ever hurt anyone with this blog.   So I struggle with what to say when it involves the Family of Origin out of fear or some type of judgment.   Needless to say I draw a blank when I think about writing about my trip where I spend 6 straight days with them. 

Let me start with saying that the trip was wonderful.  I enjoyed the moments and memories I made with my nieces and nephews and left with this renewed sense of my family (the three of us).  I was highly successful in being the truest version of me in the context of my family.  When I felt myself drifting back to old ways I focused on the intentions that I set forth in this post.  I  feel like it helped me stay the course and really get out of the adventure what I wanted.  I might need to utilize this tactic in the future.  All in all it was a major personal success.  So I will share with you the players so that I can tell stories of them later. 

My nephew Cee is going to be 12 in a few days.  This is something that has been plaguing me since April.  How can that little chunky monkey baby who I could make laugh and laugh with just my glasses be on the cusp of manhood?  Personally I thought he is a weird kid.  His humor, which abounds, wasn't particularly funny to me but he thinks he is a laugh a minute.  He some times clings to my sister like a small child and then talks of blowing things up like he just enlisted.  During the trip he spent time with my cousins' boys who are 11 and 10 years old  and the three of them were like three peas in a pod.  They all did really strange things that made no sense to me but had the other laughing until they fell down.  It was great to see that Cee isn't awkward, he's 12 (almost).  He is totally normal and apparently a laugh riot to the other boys.  They bonded over braces, baseball and stupid humor.  I learned from Cee that some day The Boy will repeat lines of movies I don't know and then laugh hysterically.  I also learned from my sister that as Mom it is my role to just laugh along because that's what you do for your babies, regardless of age.  I see my baby Cee for what he is now, a boy struggling with being a man. 

As for the ladies, I have two nieces, Red and Al.  Red is 9 going on 17, at times.  While I think her brother's humor is lame, she keeps me in stitches.  I need to practice restraint in the future when she is older to not plead to party with her and her friends because she is gonna be fun!  She can hit like a boy and take a hit like a man.  She was the first to jump off the dock with very little coaxing from Juanito.   Her eyes are the palest gray/green/blue and her freckles pop against her strawberry blond hair.  She has all the potential in the world to be nothing but trouble in the future but for now she is just awesome.  My other niece, Al, is 7 but her old soul has made her a little bit like an 80 year old woman since her birth.  She has always been quite matter of fact and continues to be quite a serious kid, except when it came to her Monster High Dolls or when another cousin brought Barbies.  But her seriousness in this family makes her such a fantastic target.  My uncle, who notoriously and mercilessly teases children of all ages, seemed to hone in on that and kept asking her if she was smoking behind the boat house.  I don't know why he went with this particular line of questioning, but that's part of his teasing, its absurd and constant.  She was so exasperated that he would ask her AGAIN if she was smoking.  She would get up from the dinner table and he would ask her if she was going out for a smoke.  She would throw her arms in the air and say NO!  To her credit, she never once got mad or yelled or even cried, which I think any other child would have done.  I think I ran and hide in with my Mom when he threatened to take our family dog to the wiener factory.  Al just rollers her eyes.  My uncle's granddaughter who is the same age as Red told the girls, "Just ignore my Grandpa."  I think she has heard this a lot from her parents.  For someone who takes herself so seriously, she goes with the flow quite well. I am envious of that and hope that she hangs on to this trait forever.

And the youngest crew member was Sweet S.  He is 9 months old and when he is happy he is the happiest face to see and when he is sad my heart goes out to my sister because he is inconsolable.  Sweet S has big blue eyes that don't miss a thing and he loves his sister, even if she does put things on his head ALL.THE.TIME.  He rarely saw the ground because everyone was taking dibs on holding him. 

This is the roster at Camp this summer.  I had a fantastic time.  I made bracelets (Cee and I are still Bracelet Buddies); we did cannonballs off the dock;  we fished; we set off fire works; we dodge rain; we made out under the stars (well Juanito and I did); I dazzled camp goers with my cooking; we make fruit s'mores and we made memories. 
All names have been changed to protect me from their parents.

Thursday, July 19, 2012

It’s a Bloody Celebration!

For those who don’t know, PCOS (Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome) can fuck with your system in number of ways. It can: A. Make your periods be all too frequent, painful and require major surgery to control; B. Make your period completely disappear which will require drugs on a monthly or quarterly basis (depending on your doctor’s preference) so that you don’t develop cancer; or C. go for years undetected and have no bearing on your life whatsoever.

I role with Option B. I didn’t start out at 13 years old this way but somewhere around 20 years old when my gyno nurse practitioner didn’t laugh when I told her that I was regular with the dog, I started the pill. The pill was supposed to regulate my system (which I don’t necessarily agree with and would argue for different verbiage since its misleading). But less than ten years later (I was 27 years old) the pill stopped even doing that. I started at that time either not having, or honestly not really even caring, that I had a period. Then when I started to care I would call the doctor and get 10 itty bitty little pills that I took to induce a period. My friend Provera. So every few months I would take Provera and ten days later I would have a period. Then when we started trying to have a baby I started temping. After a few months of watching my temp erratically spike and crash I would call the doctor me and Provera would kick it for 10 days and *poof* a period. When the fertility drugs finally worked and I ovulated (those two times) I knew when the period was coming. Even after my son I went back on the pill (as a precautionary) and have been doing the Temp/Provera dance for the past year. For the past seven years (almost I guess I should say) I have be in control of when my period starts. It has never happened without some sort of outside force. This means there is no surprise package from Mother Nature on my vacation like the Tampon commercials. I don’t secretly communicate to friends that Aunt Flow is in town and even the dogs know when “The Playground is Closed.” I am a mini-God in my pelvic region.

So imagine my surprise (and bear with me as it might get gross) when I get out of bed this morning and stumble to the bathroom to pee and find blood soaked toilet paper. Honestly after so much time of being in control of it my first thought was “I’m dying, there has been a massacre in my crotch and I’m dying.” Like a Spanish Inquisition, no one expects a period.

On my drive into work I called Juanito who was shocked as well, which only goes to show how my nether regions are common conversation with us. He congratulated me on being normal, which is also a testament to how much my husband listens to me. So today we’re celebrating being normal. I’m not sure what being normal means. Sitting in the McDonald’s drive through? Eating dinner with your family? Planning a much need vacation? Watching Big Bang Theory reruns? Whatever it is to you, today I say go do it and enjoy it. It’s good to be normal every now and then.

Wednesday, July 11, 2012

The Hills would have Eyes if there were any Hills.

So we're back from vacation.  I have a ton of pictures and stories to share but need to work it out with my therapist first before I share it all. 

Just kidding! Had a great wonderful time with the families of so many of my family's family. It was a a fan damn party!  We did a lot of driving, which is draining but I love love love a road trip. Granted this view sucks and it sucked for like 3 hours.  The Boy was fabulous except for the aforementioned 3 hours. I was in rare form, dodging emotional baggage landmines left and right.  But unfortunately there are always casualties. We brought home some misquito bites and lovely summer time colds. And on our first day back to work and daycare and our regular boring lives, Juanito and I both commented on how it was like our greatly anticipated trip never happened. 
 The Plains have a Toe, though.

Monday, July 9, 2012

Good Will Hunting We Will Go

I found myself perusing the racks of Goodwill a while ago. Goodwill is such a treat for me on so many levels.  The hunting for treasures, the people watching, the possible finds....its exhilirating. 

1. The people who go there look as if they would deny to their death that they ever went there.  They comb the racks for name brands and when they find one it becomes a CSI investigation into the quality of the item.  I watched a mother/daughter team capture a Tommy Hilfiger purse and then like a band of monkeys feeding on fleas they both held and searched every seam of that bag.  They ultimately did not purchase it. Reason unknown but best guess is because you can buy a new one at TJ Maxx for a little bit more and it would be crumb-free. Its Tommy Hilfiger people, calm down.

2.The items to be discovered cover a wide gamut of emotions for this hunter.  Typically, for me, its disbelief.  I can't imagine someone would purchase a dining room table where the leg has been duct-taped back on.  Or a big pink stuffed dragon with no eye button (saw purchased by an elderly Hispanic man no bigger than said dragon.)  I can't imagine someone cleaning their home and said, yes - lets give that dilapidated dragon to someone  so they can sell it.  Or better yet, that Goodwill got some of this "stuff" and under the SOP that "one man's junk is another man's treasure" and slapped a price tag on it.  But there are times that I come across a white goose cookie jar wearing a jaunty country blue bow around its neck and I'm transported back to my childhood home where there were gaggles upon gaggles of these same geese in our kitchen.  I want to buy it just to hold and hang on to easier times.  And then there are moments you find something and cease being human, well at least I do.  I become a squirrel with a nut or Smeagol with The Ring and I want to hide it or abandon all other treasures and run for the cashier yelling "Mine! Mine! Mine!"  I had this happen once.  A fine little black and white maxi dress I innocently found hanging on the rack.  I got a White House Black Market dress on the 50% off day for like $3.00.  My friend called it the Holy Grail of Goodwill.  I call her my precious....

3. My deepest, darkests concern about shopping at Goodwill is this: I am afraid that I will be mindlessly flipping through the hangers, laughing at the ludicrous clothes that people donate and stumble upon something I donated.  Touche Goodwill, touche.