The idea that she could be anything less than beautiful has not yet occurred to my daughter. She's eight. I know how young that is, and yet in today's society, where we're constantly bombarded from a young age with images of beauty depicted as only the skinniest of skinny, where diet pill ads are everywhere, where the "before" picture depicts an already lovely woman, a woman generally not really at a bad weight, our self-image is under attack from the time we start seeing these ads.
Somehow, though, my girl hasn't yet taken these to heart. She puts on what she likes and it doesn't matter what anyone says. She admires herself in the mirror. She's satisfied with what she sees, for now. She still thinks I'm beautiful, in spite of my own unintentional sabotage. In spite of my loose lips around her vulnerable ears. In spite of my own harsh criticism of myself within her earshot.
I'm lucky. She's lucky. She hasn't been damaged beyond repair. I can still change what I say of myself, of beauty, of health.
If I tell her how beautiful she is (I do) and yet in front of her, I complain that I'm fat and disgusting, I counter the compliments I give her. She looks just like me. People call her my mini-me. And if she's my mini-me and I'm fat, does that not make her fat? Right now, she thinks I'm beautiful and is proud to look like me. And whether or not she looks like me, her self-worth as she grows is inextricably tied up in the way I talk about myself, and also in the way we talk about other people. The way we place a value on beauty standards, particularly cookie-cutter beauty standards. In the message that breasts should all be full and round and even, lips shiny and red, stomachs flat. The way a person who is "less beautiful" becomes almost invisible. Because they're less valuable.
My daughter should never view herself as an ornament. Ornaments are for the pleasure of everyone but the ornament itself; her value should never become tied up in her appearance or in others' opinions of her. Her soul is beautiful, and that is where her value lies. Society should hold no weight on the value of her body because that's not where her value lies. It's not tied to the way she dresses or how much or little of her body she covers up regardless of her size. Her body and any value she attaches to it is her own. And that will be applied by the ideas that we, that I demonstrate for her.
Value us as humans, not because we look beautiful but because we act beautifully. Value kindness and intelligence (everyone has their own kind of intelligence! Everyone.), our wisdom and humor. Value our quirks, our individuality. Let us be proud of what we're born with.
Thursday, August 28, 2014
Wednesday, June 25, 2014
This blog post was brought to my attention earlier and it really bugs me. Like, really really bugs me.
http://applesandbandaidsblog.com/2014/06/11/my-husband-doesnt-need-to-see-your-boobs/
The idea that we have to protect our husbands, and to put the responsibility of protecting our husbands upon other women and the way they dress is terrible. Terrible!
It reduces men to creatures incapable of self control. It assumes their attitude automatically objectifies women. It takes away from the trust and love that should be within a marriage because it says "Don't trust yout husband. He's a dirty pig who can't not think about women's bodies. He lets those bodies come in between the two of you. Don't trust him." And a lack of faith chips away at love more than anything else can.
Have faith in your husbands, ladies.
I was going to just post this without taking an actually obtained male opinion into consideration. I was going to just speak for my husband, but then I thought better. So I called him at work and asked him, much to his amusement, questions with answers I already knew.
When he sees women in bikinis on his feed, does he stop and stare?
No.
(It barely registers)
Does he think about them after, at any point? While having sex with me, maybe? While at work and desperately needing something to lust after?
No.
(he even snickered at the idea)
Does he wish I could have thinner legs, be less stretch-marked, have a flatter belly?
No.
(I'm the most beautiful woman he knows of)
Men may be visual creatures, but they, not their wiring, are who chooses what to do with the imagery in front of them. They choose whether or not it comes into their marriage. You help choose whether those images come in between you and your husband with YOUR attitude. Because when you feel a need to chase after your husband to make sure he knows that there are "stumbling blocks" all over social media as if you're his keeper, you degrade him as a person and YOU objectify the women you feel are the stumbling blocks.
Because women were ogled and lusted after when we dressed like this:
(Picture found on http://www.fanpop.com/clubs/victorian-era/images/10709164/title/victorian-era-photo)
We, the wives, women, put more attention toward other women dressed "immodestly" than do men. We give more thought to them then our husbands do.
You're the one thinking about them for days after. A guy might look once but he controls whether or not he looks twice and the way he thinks after. But wives have a hand in that in making it a big deal.
Men are capable of controlling themselves. Their minds. Their attitude toward women. The attitude that lets a man NOT objectify a woman based on what she's wearing is what we should be aiming for, not making women cover up to protect a grown man from himself. Because a man who ogles a woman in her bikini will ogle her in a modest skirt and tee shirt. Women on the beach do not equate to porn. Other women aren't stumbling blocks to your marriage because of their attire. The stumbling blocks are maybe real things, but they're in you, in your husband. In your attitudes.
http://applesandbandaidsblog.com/2014/06/11/my-husband-doesnt-need-to-see-your-boobs/
The idea that we have to protect our husbands, and to put the responsibility of protecting our husbands upon other women and the way they dress is terrible. Terrible!
It reduces men to creatures incapable of self control. It assumes their attitude automatically objectifies women. It takes away from the trust and love that should be within a marriage because it says "Don't trust yout husband. He's a dirty pig who can't not think about women's bodies. He lets those bodies come in between the two of you. Don't trust him." And a lack of faith chips away at love more than anything else can.
Have faith in your husbands, ladies.
I was going to just post this without taking an actually obtained male opinion into consideration. I was going to just speak for my husband, but then I thought better. So I called him at work and asked him, much to his amusement, questions with answers I already knew.
When he sees women in bikinis on his feed, does he stop and stare?
No.
(It barely registers)
Does he think about them after, at any point? While having sex with me, maybe? While at work and desperately needing something to lust after?
No.
(he even snickered at the idea)
Does he wish I could have thinner legs, be less stretch-marked, have a flatter belly?
No.
(I'm the most beautiful woman he knows of)
Men may be visual creatures, but they, not their wiring, are who chooses what to do with the imagery in front of them. They choose whether or not it comes into their marriage. You help choose whether those images come in between you and your husband with YOUR attitude. Because when you feel a need to chase after your husband to make sure he knows that there are "stumbling blocks" all over social media as if you're his keeper, you degrade him as a person and YOU objectify the women you feel are the stumbling blocks.
Because women were ogled and lusted after when we dressed like this:
(Picture found on http://www.fanpop.com/clubs/victorian-era/images/10709164/title/victorian-era-photo)
We, the wives, women, put more attention toward other women dressed "immodestly" than do men. We give more thought to them then our husbands do.
You're the one thinking about them for days after. A guy might look once but he controls whether or not he looks twice and the way he thinks after. But wives have a hand in that in making it a big deal.
Men are capable of controlling themselves. Their minds. Their attitude toward women. The attitude that lets a man NOT objectify a woman based on what she's wearing is what we should be aiming for, not making women cover up to protect a grown man from himself. Because a man who ogles a woman in her bikini will ogle her in a modest skirt and tee shirt. Women on the beach do not equate to porn. Other women aren't stumbling blocks to your marriage because of their attire. The stumbling blocks are maybe real things, but they're in you, in your husband. In your attitudes.
Thursday, May 29, 2014
Ghost
On Sunday it'll be two years since Karl died. I still have
his favorite things; a football jersey, sunglasses, a drawing he'd
commissioned with plans to have done as a tattoo that never happened,
his box of baby memories. I keep these things not out of grief or
mourning or, I admit, even good memories. I keep these items out
of guilt for feeling none of those things.
My grief was over by the time he passed. My mourning was done in the months before he died; it was poisoned away by chemotherapy and the endless sickness that comes along with it. It was spent in countless hours in the emergency room. It was numbed by exhaustion, dulled by the disappearance of the man I'd married -- a good man, a loving man, a kind man -- as he was replaced by a stranger who didn't know me or the kids, who called all of us names, who was confused all of the time, who hallucinated and heard voices. It was absorbed in the pain etched in deep crevices on his face and by the bones cracking in his body as the cancer ate through them.
In the end, all that was left for me to feel when he died was shock. It finally, really happened. This thing we've known was coming, but seemed to never truly BE coming, finally came and with it came shock. Shock and a feeling of being lost; this thing my life had centered around for two years was gone. I was so used to orbiting something, I didn't know what to do with myself. And finally a sense of freedom I had forgotten existed.
And yet this new found liberation was tarnished by guilt and a feeling of still being alone; the rest of his family was grieving the grief I had already felt and was done with. They hadn't been there for the majority of the illness, they saw just a few pieces of the time he spent dying. For them, this thing I'd had two years to come to terms with was very new. This was not their fault. They had lives and jobs and kids of their own to carry on with. But in watching their mourning, I was an outsider. I wasn't a part of the group. My real feelings -- the liberation, the elation -- yes, elation! -- at finally having room to breath again couldn't be spoken out loud to his parents, his siblings, even my best friend, who is the youngest sister. Because love me though she may, it was still her brother and it would be unfair and insensitive of me to tell her what I really felt. I certainly couldn't tell my kids. They'd kept on their rose-colored glasses, as kids can do, and been in denial of the obvious truth I didn't realize, much to my regret, I needed to speak aloud. Their dad's death was as fresh for them as it was for the rest of the family. I held them and loved them but I couldn't grieve with them.
So I kept it to myself and let myself be alone, and really, being alone was nice. It was nice to just be left alone. I fell in love again quickly, which further alienated me from his family, who were entirely unable to have empathy for what I was feeling because it really was so alien to them in their fresh grief. I understand that and I forgive it. These people I'd known since I was ten. Some of whom still have no interest in talking to me and thus have blown off their grand kids/nephews and niece as well. Even as I moved on, I felt guilty that I couldn't take part in their grief. I felt guilt over feeling no grief over this man for whom I'd felt and gone through so much. And so his things still sit in my hall closet, gathering dust and silently keeping the ghost contained to that one area.
This weekend, these things are leaving my house. I have come to terms with the fact that I have nothing to feel guilty over; we all grieve in our own way and our own time. Sometimes that time is much shorter than we imagined and that's ok. My grief was my own and however I did it, I'm normal and ok. It's time to let this ghost go.
My grief was over by the time he passed. My mourning was done in the months before he died; it was poisoned away by chemotherapy and the endless sickness that comes along with it. It was spent in countless hours in the emergency room. It was numbed by exhaustion, dulled by the disappearance of the man I'd married -- a good man, a loving man, a kind man -- as he was replaced by a stranger who didn't know me or the kids, who called all of us names, who was confused all of the time, who hallucinated and heard voices. It was absorbed in the pain etched in deep crevices on his face and by the bones cracking in his body as the cancer ate through them.
In the end, all that was left for me to feel when he died was shock. It finally, really happened. This thing we've known was coming, but seemed to never truly BE coming, finally came and with it came shock. Shock and a feeling of being lost; this thing my life had centered around for two years was gone. I was so used to orbiting something, I didn't know what to do with myself. And finally a sense of freedom I had forgotten existed.
And yet this new found liberation was tarnished by guilt and a feeling of still being alone; the rest of his family was grieving the grief I had already felt and was done with. They hadn't been there for the majority of the illness, they saw just a few pieces of the time he spent dying. For them, this thing I'd had two years to come to terms with was very new. This was not their fault. They had lives and jobs and kids of their own to carry on with. But in watching their mourning, I was an outsider. I wasn't a part of the group. My real feelings -- the liberation, the elation -- yes, elation! -- at finally having room to breath again couldn't be spoken out loud to his parents, his siblings, even my best friend, who is the youngest sister. Because love me though she may, it was still her brother and it would be unfair and insensitive of me to tell her what I really felt. I certainly couldn't tell my kids. They'd kept on their rose-colored glasses, as kids can do, and been in denial of the obvious truth I didn't realize, much to my regret, I needed to speak aloud. Their dad's death was as fresh for them as it was for the rest of the family. I held them and loved them but I couldn't grieve with them.
So I kept it to myself and let myself be alone, and really, being alone was nice. It was nice to just be left alone. I fell in love again quickly, which further alienated me from his family, who were entirely unable to have empathy for what I was feeling because it really was so alien to them in their fresh grief. I understand that and I forgive it. These people I'd known since I was ten. Some of whom still have no interest in talking to me and thus have blown off their grand kids/nephews and niece as well. Even as I moved on, I felt guilty that I couldn't take part in their grief. I felt guilt over feeling no grief over this man for whom I'd felt and gone through so much. And so his things still sit in my hall closet, gathering dust and silently keeping the ghost contained to that one area.
This weekend, these things are leaving my house. I have come to terms with the fact that I have nothing to feel guilty over; we all grieve in our own way and our own time. Sometimes that time is much shorter than we imagined and that's ok. My grief was my own and however I did it, I'm normal and ok. It's time to let this ghost go.
Wednesday, April 9, 2014
I'm fine: Authenticity in love
I think a lot of us can say we've been mad at God. Maybe it was something shallow and stupid, in the long run. Maybe it was over something huge! Even if that huge something resulted in an equally huge blessing, when we feel we're being wronged, our first reaction is to be mad. Even after you've come to realize the blessing in it, you still might hold a grudge over the pain that came before it, over losses you've had, over heartbreak.
What do you do with that anger? Do you swallow it, a bitter pill that leaves you sour, and sugar coat your prayers? Or do you let Him have it?
God knows it's there. You don't have to tell Him you're angry with him. He already knows. When you sugar coat and hide your anger you serve no good purpose; God wants an authentic relationship with you. God wants your real, raw self. You can't have an authentic relationship when you're holding back your authentic feelings. We have to let them go. We do it because He wants us to, because He knows that in pouring our real feelings onto him, we pour OURSELVES onto Him, and in doing so we draw closer to him. We draw closer and we allow Him to heal our hurts and our anger. When we hold them back, there's no healing.
I was so angry with God when Karl's fight with cancer started going downhill. I was angry at the idea that my kids were going to have to watch their dad die slowly. I was angry that he had to be in so much pain. I was angry at the work I had to do; the job, the care-giving, the child-minding, the decision-making. It made me angry. Sometimes I held it back, sometimes I literally cursed God in my prayers. How could He do this to me? To my family?
Even as the many blessings that resulted from those two years of cancer poured onto me (I can't call someone's pain and death a blessing, especially not that of a good man and a good father, but many things have happened as a result of the struggle that ARE blessings), as my anger faded, I held onto some resentment. It took awhile before I could admit that. But when I did, when I finally let God have it all, the relief that came surprised me.
It works the same way in human relationships. We've all been angry at another person from time to time in our lives, but so often, we shrug when they ask and we say it's "fine," even when it's not. Even though we hurt and seethe inside. "I'm fine," is a lie I'm all too guilty of telling my husband when I just don't want to fight, or if I know that it'll hurt his feelings. Even when I'm mad, I don't want anyone else to get hurt. But you know, Greg knows me well enough, and I suck badly enough at hiding my emotions, that he knows I'm not "fine." And that hurts his feelings even more, because he, too, wants my real, authentic self. The people closest to us in our lives deserve authenticity from us. I want to be close to my husband, and he to me, and so we have to give of ourselves, the good and the bad.
Real human relationships are the biggest gift God's given us on this earth. Relationships with our parents and siblings, our spouses, our kids. I'm guilty of occasionally souring those relationships with that big lie, that "I'm fine." Probably most of us are. What I'm going to do, though, is work on being more authentic, more transparent, and more honest for the sake of my relationships with my loved ones. They deserve it and I deserve it and God wants that for us.
What do you do with that anger? Do you swallow it, a bitter pill that leaves you sour, and sugar coat your prayers? Or do you let Him have it?
God knows it's there. You don't have to tell Him you're angry with him. He already knows. When you sugar coat and hide your anger you serve no good purpose; God wants an authentic relationship with you. God wants your real, raw self. You can't have an authentic relationship when you're holding back your authentic feelings. We have to let them go. We do it because He wants us to, because He knows that in pouring our real feelings onto him, we pour OURSELVES onto Him, and in doing so we draw closer to him. We draw closer and we allow Him to heal our hurts and our anger. When we hold them back, there's no healing.
I was so angry with God when Karl's fight with cancer started going downhill. I was angry at the idea that my kids were going to have to watch their dad die slowly. I was angry that he had to be in so much pain. I was angry at the work I had to do; the job, the care-giving, the child-minding, the decision-making. It made me angry. Sometimes I held it back, sometimes I literally cursed God in my prayers. How could He do this to me? To my family?
Even as the many blessings that resulted from those two years of cancer poured onto me (I can't call someone's pain and death a blessing, especially not that of a good man and a good father, but many things have happened as a result of the struggle that ARE blessings), as my anger faded, I held onto some resentment. It took awhile before I could admit that. But when I did, when I finally let God have it all, the relief that came surprised me.
It works the same way in human relationships. We've all been angry at another person from time to time in our lives, but so often, we shrug when they ask and we say it's "fine," even when it's not. Even though we hurt and seethe inside. "I'm fine," is a lie I'm all too guilty of telling my husband when I just don't want to fight, or if I know that it'll hurt his feelings. Even when I'm mad, I don't want anyone else to get hurt. But you know, Greg knows me well enough, and I suck badly enough at hiding my emotions, that he knows I'm not "fine." And that hurts his feelings even more, because he, too, wants my real, authentic self. The people closest to us in our lives deserve authenticity from us. I want to be close to my husband, and he to me, and so we have to give of ourselves, the good and the bad.
Real human relationships are the biggest gift God's given us on this earth. Relationships with our parents and siblings, our spouses, our kids. I'm guilty of occasionally souring those relationships with that big lie, that "I'm fine." Probably most of us are. What I'm going to do, though, is work on being more authentic, more transparent, and more honest for the sake of my relationships with my loved ones. They deserve it and I deserve it and God wants that for us.
Monday, April 7, 2014
What happened to church?
We went to church on Sunday for the first time since the kids and I moved in with Greg, a year and a half ago. Admittedly, it was a fun service! There was a band, smoke effects, light effects, a big screen with swirly patterns to keep our attention! The sermon was full of comic relief and amusing anecdotes!
But...
When did we start going to church to be performed for, rather than to hear God's word? When did the focus of the service become entertainment? When did our worship become something we had to be amused with to stick with?
The smoke effects aren't for God, they're for us. We live in this modern world where our senses are so overloaded with entertainment and the idea that everything we do should be for fun, that everything we do should have an immediate reward, that we apparently need a man behind a curtain to give us a show. That man behind the curtain isn't God, it's a cowardly wizard, and he's as fake as the one in the emerald city. We don't need him. Our church services have become so human-centered, and we don't even realize it. They will know us by our LOVE, not our smoke machine or killer drum solos or guitar skills, or our ability to jump up and down on stage while we sing or in-house coffee shops.
There's nothing wrong with entertainment. There's definitely nothing wrong with a church service that grabs our attention and draws us in. But when the thing drawing us in is the flashiness, the comic relief, not God's word, we have a problem.
The bigger a church gets, the less focus there is on God. The less focus there is on the fellowship He intends for us. And we don't even know it. We get out into the community now and then, but then we draw back and go on buying ourselves lights and smoke and fancy guitars and giant screens to keep the congregation entertained. God doesn't care about those and bringing them into your service doesn't impress God. It doesn't add to His glorification. It adds to our own glorification, the glorification of our own pride. Our church has this and this and this. It's amazing.
Is it, really? In the attempt to stay "relevant," the church is instead fueling a self-serving attitude and less desire to really hear God's word. The more money a church has, the less relevant it really is. Smoke screens are just that. We need to look through the smoke and reach out for what's real. We need to BE real.
Be real, Christians.
But...
When did we start going to church to be performed for, rather than to hear God's word? When did the focus of the service become entertainment? When did our worship become something we had to be amused with to stick with?
The smoke effects aren't for God, they're for us. We live in this modern world where our senses are so overloaded with entertainment and the idea that everything we do should be for fun, that everything we do should have an immediate reward, that we apparently need a man behind a curtain to give us a show. That man behind the curtain isn't God, it's a cowardly wizard, and he's as fake as the one in the emerald city. We don't need him. Our church services have become so human-centered, and we don't even realize it. They will know us by our LOVE, not our smoke machine or killer drum solos or guitar skills, or our ability to jump up and down on stage while we sing or in-house coffee shops.
There's nothing wrong with entertainment. There's definitely nothing wrong with a church service that grabs our attention and draws us in. But when the thing drawing us in is the flashiness, the comic relief, not God's word, we have a problem.
The bigger a church gets, the less focus there is on God. The less focus there is on the fellowship He intends for us. And we don't even know it. We get out into the community now and then, but then we draw back and go on buying ourselves lights and smoke and fancy guitars and giant screens to keep the congregation entertained. God doesn't care about those and bringing them into your service doesn't impress God. It doesn't add to His glorification. It adds to our own glorification, the glorification of our own pride. Our church has this and this and this. It's amazing.
Is it, really? In the attempt to stay "relevant," the church is instead fueling a self-serving attitude and less desire to really hear God's word. The more money a church has, the less relevant it really is. Smoke screens are just that. We need to look through the smoke and reach out for what's real. We need to BE real.
Be real, Christians.
Tuesday, January 28, 2014
I'm so dizzy and slightly nauseated this morning. But my HPTs are still negative as of this morning. Buuut, a friend of mine who's done this more than once says she's had them come up negative right up until the day before her beta and that was definitely positive... Mine is tomorrow. I'm anxious. So, so anxious.
Our house was under contract the same day it went on the market, but the buyer got cold feet, and after coming back to look at it twice (both times with me dragging all three dogs and kids out of the house, a pain in the ass!) they backed out. Urgh. It's ok. We had no less than thirty requests to see it, in the one day it was up. We'll get them again. It's just sooo frustrating to have lost five days on the market. We aren't showing again until tomorrow, because I've got things to do -- Maximus and JD need shots so we can put them into doggie daycare if we have another full day of showings like we'd have had Friday if we hadn't accepted that off. It's just not fair to have THREE dogs cooped up in a car all day, and I can't handle all three at once on the leash! The Maxes are both over 80lbs and JD is only 30, but he's a solid little brick. I think I'd put Maxwell and JD in daycare and keep my stalker out to hang out. I can get out of the car with one dog... and he doesn't do so well with strange dogs, so I'd be anxious all day with him in daycare.
Our house was under contract the same day it went on the market, but the buyer got cold feet, and after coming back to look at it twice (both times with me dragging all three dogs and kids out of the house, a pain in the ass!) they backed out. Urgh. It's ok. We had no less than thirty requests to see it, in the one day it was up. We'll get them again. It's just sooo frustrating to have lost five days on the market. We aren't showing again until tomorrow, because I've got things to do -- Maximus and JD need shots so we can put them into doggie daycare if we have another full day of showings like we'd have had Friday if we hadn't accepted that off. It's just not fair to have THREE dogs cooped up in a car all day, and I can't handle all three at once on the leash! The Maxes are both over 80lbs and JD is only 30, but he's a solid little brick. I think I'd put Maxwell and JD in daycare and keep my stalker out to hang out. I can get out of the car with one dog... and he doesn't do so well with strange dogs, so I'd be anxious all day with him in daycare.
Thursday, January 23, 2014
Six days! I'm twitchier by the day. I need to know! I bought a three pack of cheap-o pregnancy tests to see if the HCg is out of my system. That was Tuesday. And as of yesterday, they're still coming up positive. I was hoping it would be out of my system so I can neurotically pee on sticks this weekend and they'd be more accurate, but with all the false positives, I'll never know. Boooo. Of course, maybe it just won't ever leave my system, if the cycle worked! No gap between the trigger and real HCg produced Gah, I'm dying here.
I've found the secret to the shots; if I bend over a little, it barely stings. It still bruises, but it's much easier going in (that's what she said?).
We got our pictures of the house done yesterday and hopefully it'll be listed this afternoon! Houses are selling pretty fast out here right now, so if all goes well we won't be here much longer! The boys are SO ready to have their own rooms. And I am so ready to have them separated a bit more. The house we want is still there, so we're just hoping it stays around until we're ready! It's perfect, too. Bigger than I like (I love tiny houses, and always wanted to get by on 1000sqft or less, but no one else agrees), but perfect anyway.
I've found the secret to the shots; if I bend over a little, it barely stings. It still bruises, but it's much easier going in (that's what she said?).
We got our pictures of the house done yesterday and hopefully it'll be listed this afternoon! Houses are selling pretty fast out here right now, so if all goes well we won't be here much longer! The boys are SO ready to have their own rooms. And I am so ready to have them separated a bit more. The house we want is still there, so we're just hoping it stays around until we're ready! It's perfect, too. Bigger than I like (I love tiny houses, and always wanted to get by on 1000sqft or less, but no one else agrees), but perfect anyway.
Tuesday, January 21, 2014
Our transfer went really smoothly yesterday! We showed up half an hour early, I had to pee desperately, but luckily they got me in right away. I love that this place always gets me in within a few minutes of showing up, even when I'm very early.
So in the room, I took my valium and waited, ready to pee so bad it was all I could think about, laying there with my feet in the stirrups. Then the embryologist came in with a printout. All three of our embryos made it to a viable status! Even the gimpy one! The one we implanted, though, was "textbook perfect quality," and apparently we couldn't ask for a better embryo. We watched on screen while they transferred it to the top of my uterus and now we have a picture of a little speckle on a screen, and on the 29th we find out whether or not it took! I'm not sure I can wait nine days, though I know it's really my only choice; the HCg is probably still in my system right now, but the embryo hasn't been in long enough to implant, so any test I take would be a false positive for sure. I'm going to twitch for the next 8 days.
So in the room, I took my valium and waited, ready to pee so bad it was all I could think about, laying there with my feet in the stirrups. Then the embryologist came in with a printout. All three of our embryos made it to a viable status! Even the gimpy one! The one we implanted, though, was "textbook perfect quality," and apparently we couldn't ask for a better embryo. We watched on screen while they transferred it to the top of my uterus and now we have a picture of a little speckle on a screen, and on the 29th we find out whether or not it took! I'm not sure I can wait nine days, though I know it's really my only choice; the HCg is probably still in my system right now, but the embryo hasn't been in long enough to implant, so any test I take would be a false positive for sure. I'm going to twitch for the next 8 days.
Monday, January 20, 2014
OK the progesterone is getting old fast. My back is feeling awful bruised this morning. Today is the embryo transfer, though! I'm not sure how long I have to take the progesterone shots after this, but I'm going to find out because I am ready for them to be done with. I know they have a purpose and they'll be worth it when I'm squishing my brand new baby, but right now they just suck.
After today's transfer, I have to wait NINE DAYS to test. I'm not sure I can wait that long, so I'll probably test early and get my hopes all up for nothing, because there's still HCg in my system from the trigger so obviously it's going to be positive for a few days more, anyway. Though maybe it will be satisfying to see the damn positive after all those months of negatives, even if I know it's a false positive. Probably not satisfying. Probably just depressing.
I'm really torn on today's to-do list. I'm supposed to take it easy the rest of the week, after the transfer, so my major cleaning has to be done today if it's going to be done. But it really doesn't need to be done that bad this week, we've really kept on top of all of the minor things we usually let slide over the weekend. But I'd like to get some things done, because we're having the pictures done to list the house on Wednesday. I think I can get by with dusting and sweeping and letting the kids clean their bathroom and carry laundry. I hope. Also, the kids are home today and I think it would be nice to just hang out with them. Maybe kick their asses in Injustice (though if I'm being real, Luke is going to kick MY ass over and over -- he's amazing on Ares)
After today's transfer, I have to wait NINE DAYS to test. I'm not sure I can wait that long, so I'll probably test early and get my hopes all up for nothing, because there's still HCg in my system from the trigger so obviously it's going to be positive for a few days more, anyway. Though maybe it will be satisfying to see the damn positive after all those months of negatives, even if I know it's a false positive. Probably not satisfying. Probably just depressing.
I'm really torn on today's to-do list. I'm supposed to take it easy the rest of the week, after the transfer, so my major cleaning has to be done today if it's going to be done. But it really doesn't need to be done that bad this week, we've really kept on top of all of the minor things we usually let slide over the weekend. But I'd like to get some things done, because we're having the pictures done to list the house on Wednesday. I think I can get by with dusting and sweeping and letting the kids clean their bathroom and carry laundry. I hope. Also, the kids are home today and I think it would be nice to just hang out with them. Maybe kick their asses in Injustice (though if I'm being real, Luke is going to kick MY ass over and over -- he's amazing on Ares)
Saturday, January 18, 2014
Two of our three embryos are thriving! The third is still kicking, but smaller than is generally expected to survive. I'm not counting it out until it's out, though. The embryologist said you never know, the tiny ones can still make it, but as of right now it will probably not be a viable option for transfer. 2 is a really good number, though!
My back is bruised, where I've been stabbed with a jabby needle for three nights now. We alternate sides, of course, but still, it's a bit sore... the first night, no pain. Nights 2 and 3, just a little pain with the injection and some itching as it goes in. The needle is a little bigger than the ones I used for the other hormones before the retrieval and we're using an oil-based solution, so it goes in slower and stays in a lump at the injection site longer. A little soreness isn't a surprise, but it does kind of suck.
I was really worried about OHSS (Ovarian Hyperstimulation Syndrome) for a few days. I got all bloated and had a lot of sharpish pain in the area of my ovaries and the morning-sickness-like symptoms got a lot worse. I was supposed to take in a lot of high sodium foods to prevent OHSS -- the extra sodium in my blood apparently helps to draw out excess fluids from the follicles that might fill up with fluid after the egg retrieval -- but I didn't take in enough, apparently. After yesterday and today, though I think I've fixed that. I am still bloated but it's from eating ALL THE SODIUM. And it was delicious.
My back is bruised, where I've been stabbed with a jabby needle for three nights now. We alternate sides, of course, but still, it's a bit sore... the first night, no pain. Nights 2 and 3, just a little pain with the injection and some itching as it goes in. The needle is a little bigger than the ones I used for the other hormones before the retrieval and we're using an oil-based solution, so it goes in slower and stays in a lump at the injection site longer. A little soreness isn't a surprise, but it does kind of suck.
I was really worried about OHSS (Ovarian Hyperstimulation Syndrome) for a few days. I got all bloated and had a lot of sharpish pain in the area of my ovaries and the morning-sickness-like symptoms got a lot worse. I was supposed to take in a lot of high sodium foods to prevent OHSS -- the extra sodium in my blood apparently helps to draw out excess fluids from the follicles that might fill up with fluid after the egg retrieval -- but I didn't take in enough, apparently. After yesterday and today, though I think I've fixed that. I am still bloated but it's from eating ALL THE SODIUM. And it was delicious.
Friday, January 17, 2014
The progesterone shot I was dreading turned out to be not bad at all. Just a quick stick and some light pressure. It's mixed in oil so it takes some time getting it all in, but it doesn't hurt. For weeks, I've been eyeballing the needles and feeling sick over it. As it turns out, the big needle was just for sucking up the oil, because it's thick, and because multiple jabs dull the needle. I put on a much smaller needle when it's time for the poke. Greg does the poke, because it's intramuscular and just at the top part of my butt; hardly reachable myself. He was pretty scared about it, too, and the petrified look on his face helped me to be more amused than scared myself. And then he did it, and I barely knew, though the spot itched for a few hours, and there was a lump underneath because the oil takes time to disperse. So I just keep on taking this, apparently, until I'm told to stop. I'm just glad the steroid is over. I feel so puffy! All of these hormones are the devil. But hopefully, we have another nine months of those ;)
We're listing our house for sale next week, too! We want a room for each of the existing kids, plus a room for the baby when we eventually get it, even though I'm pretty insistent on baby sleeping with me for the first year or so, at least. We found an AMAZING house, right at the top end of our price range, and it has six bedrooms, not the five we need, plus a den. I've always wanted a tiny house and I still do, but being the only one here who does, I suppose popular demand can be an important thing to consider. And a house with room to move turns out to be easier to clean than was the 800sq ft trailer we moved out of in Paulden. Or at least, to keep appearing clean. There's a lot more places to hide things if someone's coming over last minute. Not that anyone does, but if they did!
So now I'm just sitting here typing, and I've realized that two of the three kids have still not emerged from their bedrooms, and I'm starting to feel concerned that maybe they aren't as ready as they should be at this point in the morning for leaving on time. This is all kind of foggy in my brain right now, though, being pre-coffee and full of fuzzbrain-making hormones. I suppose now's as good a time as any to start the day...
We're listing our house for sale next week, too! We want a room for each of the existing kids, plus a room for the baby when we eventually get it, even though I'm pretty insistent on baby sleeping with me for the first year or so, at least. We found an AMAZING house, right at the top end of our price range, and it has six bedrooms, not the five we need, plus a den. I've always wanted a tiny house and I still do, but being the only one here who does, I suppose popular demand can be an important thing to consider. And a house with room to move turns out to be easier to clean than was the 800sq ft trailer we moved out of in Paulden. Or at least, to keep appearing clean. There's a lot more places to hide things if someone's coming over last minute. Not that anyone does, but if they did!
So now I'm just sitting here typing, and I've realized that two of the three kids have still not emerged from their bedrooms, and I'm starting to feel concerned that maybe they aren't as ready as they should be at this point in the morning for leaving on time. This is all kind of foggy in my brain right now, though, being pre-coffee and full of fuzzbrain-making hormones. I suppose now's as good a time as any to start the day...
Thursday, January 16, 2014
Out of our four eggs, we had THREE fertilize normally! I have three babies growing up there in the lab! I'm so excited! They expect about half -- 1 or 2 -- to become viable for implanting. I'm hoping for two in case we need another cycle, but really, it just takes one! My transfer day is Monday, and then nine days after that I go back for a pregnancy test. I'm so giddy right now! Totally worth all these hormones, in the end. Tonight I start the progesterone shots. Not looking forward to them AT ALL. But it'll be ok!
It's taking ALL of my willpower to not buy cloth diapers and car seats and all the cute baby things I see. I have to go out today, so there's a good chance I'll come home with some cute fluffy butt diapers. I'm feeling so hopeful, and I'm really not capable of turning it down.
It's taking ALL of my willpower to not buy cloth diapers and car seats and all the cute baby things I see. I have to go out today, so there's a good chance I'll come home with some cute fluffy butt diapers. I'm feeling so hopeful, and I'm really not capable of turning it down.
Wednesday, January 15, 2014
This month has been VERY HORMONAL. Which is to say, I've been a horrendous bitch. I started my first IVF cycle and the hormones are really killing me. I'm glad to have such a patient man because they'd probably also be killing a lesser one.
I started out giving myself just one shot a night, for two weeks. Then we added in a second shot a night for one week, and that one burned like hell. It felt like a bee sting and made me whiny. Monday, I triggered ovulation with another shot, and since I haven't had to take any! Yay! Though we found that only one ovary responded to the hormones that matured several eggs, and we don't know why but apparently it happens sometimes.
This morning, I went in for my egg retrieval, and I'm a little worried because they were only able to get four eggs, and we don't know anything about the quality/maturity of those eggs yet. I'm waiting for that phone call, pretty anxiously. If none of the eggs we got are viable for baby-making, we have to cancel this cycle. I don't know if that puts us out the money or what, or what it means for the next cycle. So we're just praying that everything comes together well.
In the meantime, I'm just a little sore. They knocked me out with IV sedation, which was much easier to come out of than general anesthesia. I don't come out of that well at all, and it takes me like a week to be fully awake and comfortable, compared to the day or two they say it should take. With the sedation, though, I was up and walking and craving McDonald's pretty much right away.
Anywho, that's that and now we're just praying for the best!
I started out giving myself just one shot a night, for two weeks. Then we added in a second shot a night for one week, and that one burned like hell. It felt like a bee sting and made me whiny. Monday, I triggered ovulation with another shot, and since I haven't had to take any! Yay! Though we found that only one ovary responded to the hormones that matured several eggs, and we don't know why but apparently it happens sometimes.
This morning, I went in for my egg retrieval, and I'm a little worried because they were only able to get four eggs, and we don't know anything about the quality/maturity of those eggs yet. I'm waiting for that phone call, pretty anxiously. If none of the eggs we got are viable for baby-making, we have to cancel this cycle. I don't know if that puts us out the money or what, or what it means for the next cycle. So we're just praying that everything comes together well.
In the meantime, I'm just a little sore. They knocked me out with IV sedation, which was much easier to come out of than general anesthesia. I don't come out of that well at all, and it takes me like a week to be fully awake and comfortable, compared to the day or two they say it should take. With the sedation, though, I was up and walking and craving McDonald's pretty much right away.
Anywho, that's that and now we're just praying for the best!
Monday, October 28, 2013
It's cleaning day!
Every Monday I give the house a good scrub because we're horrendous slobs over the weekend. Every weekend, without fail.
So this is me, procrastinating. So far all I've done is almost catch up on laundry. It's really pretty satisfying, folding and sorting and putting it all away, but still I procrastinate. I'm down to the socks now. Socks. I don't even match them. I find two with a similar shape and fold them together. Right now I'm wearing a pink Hilfiger sock on my left foot and a grey nameless brand on the other. Screw it, life's too short to match socks.
Olivia's home sick and oh my God she's a whiny child. It must be karma. She doesn't even have a fever anymore, but she's like, "moooom can you move the coffee table closer so I don't have to sit up to get my water? Mooooom can I have a new straw, this one is an hour old. Moooooom I'm tired of Cartoon Network, here's the remote, change the station please."
Screw that. My head almost popped when she asked that last one, SHE HAS THE REMOTE RIGHT THERE.
She also thinks I should make her cookies. What? No.
Okay, I exaggerate. Really, she's being very sweet and quiet, other than those requests. She's snuggled up under a jacket -- because a blanket was too much, she said -- in panties and cuddling with the boxerdog (who is an asshole and a wonderful dog at the same time today). And since I refused to change the station, she's still watching Johnny Bravo on CN, and every now and then she sighs wistfully and mentions her concerns about what she might be missing on Nickelodeon.
What else can I do now to put off the laundry?
So this is me, procrastinating. So far all I've done is almost catch up on laundry. It's really pretty satisfying, folding and sorting and putting it all away, but still I procrastinate. I'm down to the socks now. Socks. I don't even match them. I find two with a similar shape and fold them together. Right now I'm wearing a pink Hilfiger sock on my left foot and a grey nameless brand on the other. Screw it, life's too short to match socks.
Olivia's home sick and oh my God she's a whiny child. It must be karma. She doesn't even have a fever anymore, but she's like, "moooom can you move the coffee table closer so I don't have to sit up to get my water? Mooooom can I have a new straw, this one is an hour old. Moooooom I'm tired of Cartoon Network, here's the remote, change the station please."
Screw that. My head almost popped when she asked that last one, SHE HAS THE REMOTE RIGHT THERE.
She also thinks I should make her cookies. What? No.
Okay, I exaggerate. Really, she's being very sweet and quiet, other than those requests. She's snuggled up under a jacket -- because a blanket was too much, she said -- in panties and cuddling with the boxerdog (who is an asshole and a wonderful dog at the same time today). And since I refused to change the station, she's still watching Johnny Bravo on CN, and every now and then she sighs wistfully and mentions her concerns about what she might be missing on Nickelodeon.
What else can I do now to put off the laundry?
Thursday, October 24, 2013
Rambling update
I'm going to divide this post up so readers can skip over topics they're not interested in; this is going to be long, and I realize I'm boring and ramble a lot, but I seem to get a lot of page views even when I go months without posting, so I guess someone somewhere is interested.
Family stuff
I can't believe we've been here over a year now. So much has changed for us! I realize I say that A LOT. But it's so true! I came here with three grieving, insecure, unsure kids, all of them had regular meltdowns. Now they're happy, fight no more than any other kids (I realize this is still a lot because kids are asses), are generally happy, get along with other kids, and all three are more respectful and secure overall. Seth has even started sleeping with the lights off, and hasn't wet the bed in MONTHS! Every day, I'm reminded that moving here, and being with Greg, is the best possible thing that we could have done. His stability makes my crazies feel less crazy and has brought the kids to a really good place.
For the anniversary, we took a family vacation to the beach. It was awesome; Greg and I fished a lot, even went deep sea fishing with his dad and Seth one day. The kids had a blast, and now I'm plotting ways to move to the coast. Jamaica was my first choice, but since apparently THAT isn't going to happen, I could live with the coast of Texas. Though I doubt that's going to happen, either, haha.
Luke and Liv call Greg "Dad" a good chunk of the time. Seth refers to him as his dad, but calls him Greg, and Greg loves it all. We didn't tell the kids to do any of it, they just do. As Seth said a few months ago,
"Greg. Even though you're our step dad, you love us as much As a real dad. And even though you haven't known us for long, you love us and support us just like a real parent. And we love you."
I guess Greg has earned it, in just a year. He's amazing.
Potential Baby Stuff:
I had my tubes untied July 9th, and it was just moderately successful. Only one tube was able to be reconnected, and they were only able to salvage about 2cm of it. Our chances of conceiving normally and having a live baby out of it are only at like 30-50%. We're going to keep trying until January, and if it hasn't happened yet we're getting IVF. I've wanted another baby for a long time, and always regretted getting my tubes tied in the first place, and Greg wants to have a baby baby of his own; he loves our kids, he always refers to them as his, ours, never just mine, but I completely understand. And I want the experience of having a baby WITH him, too.
Geeky Gamer shit:
We're playing FFXIV and really having fun! We've been looking for a new MMO to play together for awhile. We tried Rift but just as we were ready for endgame content, our guild kind of fell apart. Also, I just couldn't really get into it. Then we tried Tera, I loved the combat (Aiming and moving rather than just sitting in one spot hitting buttons, it was fun!) and the graphics (Bright! Happy!) but the game was too cutesy for Greg (Google the Elin. Barf. I guess there were aspects that were too much for me, too). I tried going back to EQ2 for awhile but none of our friends were playing anymore and Greg couldn't stay into it, too much had changed. We each got a toon to max level and then lost interest. But now FF is out an we're both really into it! I love having something we can do together regularly without spending a whole lot of money. For $30 a month, we have nightly entertainment! The graphics are good and just bright and happy enough, and there's just enough "cute" factor to keep me happy without making Greg gag over the cuteness. The dungeons are a lot of fun, too. There's some thinking involved with some fights, even at low-levels, so we're not just sitting back and clicking here, either, but it's not quite as involved as Tera's combat system.
Kid stuff:
Liv is playing basketball. She sucks. And she doesn't seem to enjoy it, though she says she does. I think she has stage fright. She acts all stiff and self-conscious while she plays. Seth is playing Soccer and thank God the season's almost over. His last game is Saturday, and then there are playoffs because his team is #3 (SO CLOSE to #2) in the league. He also sucks, but the rest of the team is good enough to make up for the weak spot. He is just afraid of the ball. It must be genetic because I was always the girl ducking when the ball came her way, in all the sports. Then we're taking winter off, because so much happens in the winter; Luke's birthday, Liv's birthday, our anniversay, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year. There are holiday parties and it's just TOO MUCH to add practices and games into it and to schedule around them. But in the spring we're going to start Liv in ballet and Seth wants to take some kind of martial art, and I'm not sure yet what Luke wants to do. I think he wants to play basketball again, which is fine because even though he sucks, too, he seems to enjoy it and put more effort into it than the other two do into their team sports. Also, it's cheap. Cheap matters. A lot.
All the kids are doing really well in school. Liv is terrible about turning her homework in (OH MY GOD WHY DO WE EVEN DO ALL THIS WORK IF YOU'RE JUST GOING TO LEAVE IT IN YOUR FOLDER? FOR GOD'S SAKE TURN IT IN), but the teacher says she's sooo creative and insightful during class, and thinks outside the box better than any other third grader she's had. She has trouble focusing and is fidgety and distractable but the teacher also thinks this is a maturity thing. She's a year younger than most of the other third graders because she started at 4 in AZ, so she's more on the maturity level of a 2nd grader and the difference at this age is fairly high. But she's also popular. Other kids seek her out and when she plays basketball at school, even other little girls who don't like basketball play it, so they can be playing with her. Apparently when she's at school playing, she doesn't suck, so I really think it IS just stage fright.
Luke got himself moved into honors math. He was soooo bored in normal math, he was acting up and refusing to do the work. The teacher pulled his scores from last year's tests and was like, "oh. We need to move the kid up." And I was like, yes. Yes we do. But also, he needs to be held accountable for acting like an ass; I don't care how bored he was, disrespect is not ok. But ever since he was moved he's done really well! I'm very excited for him. He's learning to play violin, too. Slowly, because his bow broke and slacker mom took a week to get a new one ordered, and the new one isn't here yet. Sometimes he seems glad and sometimes he seems impatient about it. Probably a little of both. I don't think he's nuts about the violin yet, but I hope it gets better when he gets his new bow and is actually able to play it.
Seth is having a REALLY great year! I haven't had to pick him up from school early due to behavior even once. We haven't had any melt downs at home or school. His grades are high and his teachers haven't had anything but praise for him so far! He went to camp with the 5th grade and had a blast. I guess he had a rough time at night because he missed me, but overall he was really good. We've been running together in the mornings. I get up at 5:15 and we're out the door by 5:30. We don't make it far but I think the running helps him a lot. Also, the one-on-one time. He talks a lot, when we walk. Yesterday he slipped his hand into mine and thanked me for doing it with him. He makes me melt <3 I love that he's not embarassed to hold my hand or kiss me on the cheek in public. Even during the day in places his friends will see, I get kisses on the cheek. His sensory issues mean I still can't give HIM a kiss on the cheek, but I'll take what I can get.
NaNoWriMo, Twitter, whatever:
I'm doing NaNoWriMo again this year! 50k words in 30 days, and I am determined to make it this year. I made it the first year but ever since there has been too much going on in November for me to do it. Last year we were wedding planning and adjusting, the year before Karl was sooo sick, and I was working full-time and going to school full-time. This year, I have no such excuse, though eventually I DO need to start school back up.
I'm on Twitter! My updates all usually come as pictures through Instagram, but if you're interested, I'm @teediddlyhee on Twitter.
And that's about all I have to say, and I'm too lazy to wrap this up nicely. Later.
Family stuff
I can't believe we've been here over a year now. So much has changed for us! I realize I say that A LOT. But it's so true! I came here with three grieving, insecure, unsure kids, all of them had regular meltdowns. Now they're happy, fight no more than any other kids (I realize this is still a lot because kids are asses), are generally happy, get along with other kids, and all three are more respectful and secure overall. Seth has even started sleeping with the lights off, and hasn't wet the bed in MONTHS! Every day, I'm reminded that moving here, and being with Greg, is the best possible thing that we could have done. His stability makes my crazies feel less crazy and has brought the kids to a really good place.
For the anniversary, we took a family vacation to the beach. It was awesome; Greg and I fished a lot, even went deep sea fishing with his dad and Seth one day. The kids had a blast, and now I'm plotting ways to move to the coast. Jamaica was my first choice, but since apparently THAT isn't going to happen, I could live with the coast of Texas. Though I doubt that's going to happen, either, haha.
Luke and Liv call Greg "Dad" a good chunk of the time. Seth refers to him as his dad, but calls him Greg, and Greg loves it all. We didn't tell the kids to do any of it, they just do. As Seth said a few months ago,
"Greg. Even though you're our step dad, you love us as much As a real dad. And even though you haven't known us for long, you love us and support us just like a real parent. And we love you."
I guess Greg has earned it, in just a year. He's amazing.
Potential Baby Stuff:
I had my tubes untied July 9th, and it was just moderately successful. Only one tube was able to be reconnected, and they were only able to salvage about 2cm of it. Our chances of conceiving normally and having a live baby out of it are only at like 30-50%. We're going to keep trying until January, and if it hasn't happened yet we're getting IVF. I've wanted another baby for a long time, and always regretted getting my tubes tied in the first place, and Greg wants to have a baby baby of his own; he loves our kids, he always refers to them as his, ours, never just mine, but I completely understand. And I want the experience of having a baby WITH him, too.
Geeky Gamer shit:
We're playing FFXIV and really having fun! We've been looking for a new MMO to play together for awhile. We tried Rift but just as we were ready for endgame content, our guild kind of fell apart. Also, I just couldn't really get into it. Then we tried Tera, I loved the combat (Aiming and moving rather than just sitting in one spot hitting buttons, it was fun!) and the graphics (Bright! Happy!) but the game was too cutesy for Greg (Google the Elin. Barf. I guess there were aspects that were too much for me, too). I tried going back to EQ2 for awhile but none of our friends were playing anymore and Greg couldn't stay into it, too much had changed. We each got a toon to max level and then lost interest. But now FF is out an we're both really into it! I love having something we can do together regularly without spending a whole lot of money. For $30 a month, we have nightly entertainment! The graphics are good and just bright and happy enough, and there's just enough "cute" factor to keep me happy without making Greg gag over the cuteness. The dungeons are a lot of fun, too. There's some thinking involved with some fights, even at low-levels, so we're not just sitting back and clicking here, either, but it's not quite as involved as Tera's combat system.
Kid stuff:
Liv is playing basketball. She sucks. And she doesn't seem to enjoy it, though she says she does. I think she has stage fright. She acts all stiff and self-conscious while she plays. Seth is playing Soccer and thank God the season's almost over. His last game is Saturday, and then there are playoffs because his team is #3 (SO CLOSE to #2) in the league. He also sucks, but the rest of the team is good enough to make up for the weak spot. He is just afraid of the ball. It must be genetic because I was always the girl ducking when the ball came her way, in all the sports. Then we're taking winter off, because so much happens in the winter; Luke's birthday, Liv's birthday, our anniversay, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year. There are holiday parties and it's just TOO MUCH to add practices and games into it and to schedule around them. But in the spring we're going to start Liv in ballet and Seth wants to take some kind of martial art, and I'm not sure yet what Luke wants to do. I think he wants to play basketball again, which is fine because even though he sucks, too, he seems to enjoy it and put more effort into it than the other two do into their team sports. Also, it's cheap. Cheap matters. A lot.
All the kids are doing really well in school. Liv is terrible about turning her homework in (OH MY GOD WHY DO WE EVEN DO ALL THIS WORK IF YOU'RE JUST GOING TO LEAVE IT IN YOUR FOLDER? FOR GOD'S SAKE TURN IT IN), but the teacher says she's sooo creative and insightful during class, and thinks outside the box better than any other third grader she's had. She has trouble focusing and is fidgety and distractable but the teacher also thinks this is a maturity thing. She's a year younger than most of the other third graders because she started at 4 in AZ, so she's more on the maturity level of a 2nd grader and the difference at this age is fairly high. But she's also popular. Other kids seek her out and when she plays basketball at school, even other little girls who don't like basketball play it, so they can be playing with her. Apparently when she's at school playing, she doesn't suck, so I really think it IS just stage fright.
Luke got himself moved into honors math. He was soooo bored in normal math, he was acting up and refusing to do the work. The teacher pulled his scores from last year's tests and was like, "oh. We need to move the kid up." And I was like, yes. Yes we do. But also, he needs to be held accountable for acting like an ass; I don't care how bored he was, disrespect is not ok. But ever since he was moved he's done really well! I'm very excited for him. He's learning to play violin, too. Slowly, because his bow broke and slacker mom took a week to get a new one ordered, and the new one isn't here yet. Sometimes he seems glad and sometimes he seems impatient about it. Probably a little of both. I don't think he's nuts about the violin yet, but I hope it gets better when he gets his new bow and is actually able to play it.
Seth is having a REALLY great year! I haven't had to pick him up from school early due to behavior even once. We haven't had any melt downs at home or school. His grades are high and his teachers haven't had anything but praise for him so far! He went to camp with the 5th grade and had a blast. I guess he had a rough time at night because he missed me, but overall he was really good. We've been running together in the mornings. I get up at 5:15 and we're out the door by 5:30. We don't make it far but I think the running helps him a lot. Also, the one-on-one time. He talks a lot, when we walk. Yesterday he slipped his hand into mine and thanked me for doing it with him. He makes me melt <3 I love that he's not embarassed to hold my hand or kiss me on the cheek in public. Even during the day in places his friends will see, I get kisses on the cheek. His sensory issues mean I still can't give HIM a kiss on the cheek, but I'll take what I can get.
NaNoWriMo, Twitter, whatever:
I'm doing NaNoWriMo again this year! 50k words in 30 days, and I am determined to make it this year. I made it the first year but ever since there has been too much going on in November for me to do it. Last year we were wedding planning and adjusting, the year before Karl was sooo sick, and I was working full-time and going to school full-time. This year, I have no such excuse, though eventually I DO need to start school back up.
I'm on Twitter! My updates all usually come as pictures through Instagram, but if you're interested, I'm @teediddlyhee on Twitter.
And that's about all I have to say, and I'm too lazy to wrap this up nicely. Later.
Thursday, June 27, 2013
Redneck style CoolSculpting.
I've got areas of fluffiness I don't like. Well, all of me is an area of fluffiness I don't like. I've lost 15lbs ,but I still have a ways to go. But in particular, there are the belly and love handle areas that are fluffy and not liked. But I'm cheap and skeered of scalpels slicing into me, and I've SEEN Nip/Tuck and the idea of fat being vacuumed out of my body makes me want to throw up a lot. So what to do? Work out? Eat right? Pshaw.
I found this CoolSculpt thing and after reading reviews, it's not something I'd spend my money on. Expensive! Multiple treatments! Sitting bored in a doctor's office for hours! It can take up to 6 weeks to see results!? The idea is probably a load of poo! Because in that 6 weeks maybe you were eating better, because they do recommend a healthy diet to keep it off, so... who says the results you see in six weeks aren't just from eating better and a few crunches?
But I'm not so skeptical that I won't strap ice packs here at home to my belly and love handles with my belly-burny-fat waist thingy and sit on the computer for a few hours. I mean hey, at the very least, being cold burns more calories, so that can't be bad, right? If there are results, maybe I'll freeze my thighs next.
I found this CoolSculpt thing and after reading reviews, it's not something I'd spend my money on. Expensive! Multiple treatments! Sitting bored in a doctor's office for hours! It can take up to 6 weeks to see results!? The idea is probably a load of poo! Because in that 6 weeks maybe you were eating better, because they do recommend a healthy diet to keep it off, so... who says the results you see in six weeks aren't just from eating better and a few crunches?
But I'm not so skeptical that I won't strap ice packs here at home to my belly and love handles with my belly-burny-fat waist thingy and sit on the computer for a few hours. I mean hey, at the very least, being cold burns more calories, so that can't be bad, right? If there are results, maybe I'll freeze my thighs next.
Wednesday, June 19, 2013
what do we need?
A big deal is always made about what women need and want, and what men need and want. What we need and want as a gender is thought to be different than the needs of the opposite sex. Women want romance and affection and mushiness; men want sex and food and time alone with the tv remote. Women need romantic sex and men need is on a purely carnal level. Women want less sex than men. Over the course of three marriages, however, and along with the help of informal interwebz observations and relationships with men and women both, I've learned that this is complete bullshit. The lines between genders are really blurred when it comes to both our emotional and sexual needs.
It's a lie, the idea that men would just as soon skip the date, the roses, the eye contact. Men get the same high women do, when they're in love. They need the same emotional connection that comes with intimacy. Sometimes, they, too, just need to be held. There have been nights after an argument where Greg and I have gone to bed not mad, but disgruntled. Both of us felt inadequate and less than wanted. All I wanted, in those moments, was for my husband to roll over and pull me close and hold me and reassure me. But he never did. Why? Not because he didn't want to, apparently. Apparently, it was because he needed the same from me! I would occasionally reach out and touch him, briefly, hoping he'd know how much I needed him to come hold me, and while I was doing it, he was hoping I would come closer and hold him.
Men, as much as women, need to feel safe. They need to be able to cry in front of you. They need to be able to unload their worries. They need their wives to listen. They need to be able to trust you enough to open up to you. They need to know you're not going to tell your mom or your sister or your best friend or hell, maybe even your cat. Just like women, sometimes men don't want their problem fixed, they just need you to listen. Sometimes that IS the fix.
On the other hand, I can tell you how much I like control of the remote now and then. I like Tosh.0 just fine, but what if I want to watch desperate housewife reruns? And sex. I crave just as much -- maybe more -- as Greg. I am somewhat insatiable. It doesn't vary by week of the month and it doesn't stop when I'm angry or stressed or in pain of any kind (except this one time I had a toothache and all I wanted was for someone to shoot me). It's like a bandaid. It helps destress. It helps me feel connected. Orgasms are really good, too, of course, and Greg's never failed to satisfy (he really might kill me for this entire paragraph) but my main need is to be as physically close as I can get. I'm like an alcoholic, self medicating with my addiction. And I'm obsessed. But sometimes... Sometimes it really is all about the damn orgasm. Or three... however many can be had, women want them. Sometimes it doesn't really matter who is giving said orgasms. You just neeeeed them. It's not about connection, just frantic, hard sex. Both sexes need all aspects; the romantic need and the biological need.
I've learned what bullshit it is, the idea that "men want to be respected and women want to be loved" in a relationship. Of course men want to be respected, but they also want to feel loved. They need you to tell them, unrestrained, how much you appreciate them and how the things they do make your heart swell. They like love letters. Mushy ones. They appreciate cards on random days that just tell them you love them. Wax poetic. He'll love it. I promise.
It is important for a woman to feel loved, but guys, we want to feel respected, too. We want to know that you notice a job well done. We need you to acknowledge that we worked our asses off to clean/remodel/cook/get promoted/get an A in that bitch of a math class we had to take/got out of the store with all three of the same kids we brought in, and not only that, they're alive. We want you to listen attentively to our days' details as if hearing us out and understanding our viewpoints is the most important thing in the world. We need you to not laugh if we miss a point or don't understand something, just like you. Who likes to be laughed at?
Give, all of yourself, as good as you'd like to get it. A relationship's quality and ability to last is entirely dependent on both consistent emotional and physical needs being met, and on mutual love and requited respect.
It's a lie, the idea that men would just as soon skip the date, the roses, the eye contact. Men get the same high women do, when they're in love. They need the same emotional connection that comes with intimacy. Sometimes, they, too, just need to be held. There have been nights after an argument where Greg and I have gone to bed not mad, but disgruntled. Both of us felt inadequate and less than wanted. All I wanted, in those moments, was for my husband to roll over and pull me close and hold me and reassure me. But he never did. Why? Not because he didn't want to, apparently. Apparently, it was because he needed the same from me! I would occasionally reach out and touch him, briefly, hoping he'd know how much I needed him to come hold me, and while I was doing it, he was hoping I would come closer and hold him.
Men, as much as women, need to feel safe. They need to be able to cry in front of you. They need to be able to unload their worries. They need their wives to listen. They need to be able to trust you enough to open up to you. They need to know you're not going to tell your mom or your sister or your best friend or hell, maybe even your cat. Just like women, sometimes men don't want their problem fixed, they just need you to listen. Sometimes that IS the fix.
On the other hand, I can tell you how much I like control of the remote now and then. I like Tosh.0 just fine, but what if I want to watch desperate housewife reruns? And sex. I crave just as much -- maybe more -- as Greg. I am somewhat insatiable. It doesn't vary by week of the month and it doesn't stop when I'm angry or stressed or in pain of any kind (except this one time I had a toothache and all I wanted was for someone to shoot me). It's like a bandaid. It helps destress. It helps me feel connected. Orgasms are really good, too, of course, and Greg's never failed to satisfy (he really might kill me for this entire paragraph) but my main need is to be as physically close as I can get. I'm like an alcoholic, self medicating with my addiction. And I'm obsessed. But sometimes... Sometimes it really is all about the damn orgasm. Or three... however many can be had, women want them. Sometimes it doesn't really matter who is giving said orgasms. You just neeeeed them. It's not about connection, just frantic, hard sex. Both sexes need all aspects; the romantic need and the biological need.
I've learned what bullshit it is, the idea that "men want to be respected and women want to be loved" in a relationship. Of course men want to be respected, but they also want to feel loved. They need you to tell them, unrestrained, how much you appreciate them and how the things they do make your heart swell. They like love letters. Mushy ones. They appreciate cards on random days that just tell them you love them. Wax poetic. He'll love it. I promise.
It is important for a woman to feel loved, but guys, we want to feel respected, too. We want to know that you notice a job well done. We need you to acknowledge that we worked our asses off to clean/remodel/cook/get promoted/get an A in that bitch of a math class we had to take/got out of the store with all three of the same kids we brought in, and not only that, they're alive. We want you to listen attentively to our days' details as if hearing us out and understanding our viewpoints is the most important thing in the world. We need you to not laugh if we miss a point or don't understand something, just like you. Who likes to be laughed at?
Give, all of yourself, as good as you'd like to get it. A relationship's quality and ability to last is entirely dependent on both consistent emotional and physical needs being met, and on mutual love and requited respect.
Monday, June 17, 2013
father's day, kids' resilience, amazing husband, good stuff.
My friend told me her husband asked if I'd married Greg for money. Bahaha! I'd certainly be disappointed if I had! She was worried I'd be mad. I definitely am not; amused is what I am. I married Greg because he's amazing, he's my best friend, and because no one has ever made me feel more loved and wanted and full. Because he's the first man who has encouraged me to grow. He challenges my mind and my heart. He accepts me as I am, and at the same time helps me to be the best woman I can be.
I knew how wonderful he was long before we were together, but what I knew then barely scraped the surface. What I know now makes my heart ache with happiness. I know that he's not just an amazing husband, but an amazing dad as well. He thinks about the kids, he praises their strengths and encourages them to grow and learn as well. His patience brings out the best in them. He gives them stability and affection and love. Yesterday, while Olivia read a book to him, he rested his head on hers and closed his eyes and at first I thought he was sleepy, but no... he was enjoying the time with our daughter. His daughter. He makes her feel treasured. He makes the boys feel respected and loved. There's nothing That makes me doubt that he deserves the title of "dad."
The kids don't call him dad -- well, Olivia does, about half the time. But they all insisted on giving him a good father's day. Cards, Candy, lunch, sleeping in. They all mentioned Karl briefly once or twice, why wouldn't they? We certainly don't want them to forget him. But they don't dwell on him. They have hit a point in their healing where they remember happily, but they are able to live in the moment and accept what is. People have said things that sound like the kids need a lot more time, that they should still be grieving. And maybe they are; a therapist once told me that the grieving process is sometimes never completely gone, that sometimes we keep revisiting it or coming across triggers for years after. And every now and then, one of the kids says they miss Karl, and they say what they need to and we listen and respond. But for the most part, the kids accept what is and are happy and adjusted better than I could have imagined. They're resilient. They're strong. They have the ability to heal that we lose as we get older, physically and emotionally. I think that going through everything we went through helped them grow. They're strong because they went through what, by all rights, could very well break a person and they pushed through it. They were tested beyond what a kid should Have To endure. They saw things no kid should have to and are still able to laugh and be kids, are still able to celebrate the things they have.
My kids are amazing, inspiring little people.
I knew how wonderful he was long before we were together, but what I knew then barely scraped the surface. What I know now makes my heart ache with happiness. I know that he's not just an amazing husband, but an amazing dad as well. He thinks about the kids, he praises their strengths and encourages them to grow and learn as well. His patience brings out the best in them. He gives them stability and affection and love. Yesterday, while Olivia read a book to him, he rested his head on hers and closed his eyes and at first I thought he was sleepy, but no... he was enjoying the time with our daughter. His daughter. He makes her feel treasured. He makes the boys feel respected and loved. There's nothing That makes me doubt that he deserves the title of "dad."
The kids don't call him dad -- well, Olivia does, about half the time. But they all insisted on giving him a good father's day. Cards, Candy, lunch, sleeping in. They all mentioned Karl briefly once or twice, why wouldn't they? We certainly don't want them to forget him. But they don't dwell on him. They have hit a point in their healing where they remember happily, but they are able to live in the moment and accept what is. People have said things that sound like the kids need a lot more time, that they should still be grieving. And maybe they are; a therapist once told me that the grieving process is sometimes never completely gone, that sometimes we keep revisiting it or coming across triggers for years after. And every now and then, one of the kids says they miss Karl, and they say what they need to and we listen and respond. But for the most part, the kids accept what is and are happy and adjusted better than I could have imagined. They're resilient. They're strong. They have the ability to heal that we lose as we get older, physically and emotionally. I think that going through everything we went through helped them grow. They're strong because they went through what, by all rights, could very well break a person and they pushed through it. They were tested beyond what a kid should Have To endure. They saw things no kid should have to and are still able to laugh and be kids, are still able to celebrate the things they have.
My kids are amazing, inspiring little people.
Tuesday, June 11, 2013
Wax: DO NOT WANT.
SO we've all seen that episode of Friends, Where Monica and Phoebe try Waxine, right? And we're like, oh they're exaggerating. It can't hurt that much.
Let me tell you how very wrong we were.
I found an unopened package of Nads under the sink, that apparently Greg had from before I moved in. And I was like, oh! Maybe I won't shave my lady bits, maybe I'll wax instead! It looks so easy!
So I opened the package. I read the instructions. Apply a thin layer of wax, slap that cloth strip on and rip it off. It alleges that the pain will be minimal and your unwanted hair will be gone! ALLEGES.
I did exactly what the instructions said, noting that the wax is somewhat harder to spread than Nads implies. So far so good. I unrolled the strip of cotton cloth. I smoothed it over the waxy area. I took a deep breath and I yanked that shit off my lady bits. And I screamed.
"MOTHERFUCKER."
Yes, I was quite vulgar. And when I immediately noticed that there had been no actual hair removal, my head nearly popped. Had I done something wrong? Maybe that was why it hurt so much!
And now you're thinking, she didn't try it again, did she?
Yes. Yes I did. With the same results and louder swearing.
So now I am waxy, stuck together, still hairy, and stinging too much to shave.
Eff you, Nads. Eff you.
Let me tell you how very wrong we were.
I found an unopened package of Nads under the sink, that apparently Greg had from before I moved in. And I was like, oh! Maybe I won't shave my lady bits, maybe I'll wax instead! It looks so easy!
So I opened the package. I read the instructions. Apply a thin layer of wax, slap that cloth strip on and rip it off. It alleges that the pain will be minimal and your unwanted hair will be gone! ALLEGES.
I did exactly what the instructions said, noting that the wax is somewhat harder to spread than Nads implies. So far so good. I unrolled the strip of cotton cloth. I smoothed it over the waxy area. I took a deep breath and I yanked that shit off my lady bits. And I screamed.
"MOTHERFUCKER."
Yes, I was quite vulgar. And when I immediately noticed that there had been no actual hair removal, my head nearly popped. Had I done something wrong? Maybe that was why it hurt so much!
And now you're thinking, she didn't try it again, did she?
Yes. Yes I did. With the same results and louder swearing.
So now I am waxy, stuck together, still hairy, and stinging too much to shave.
Eff you, Nads. Eff you.
Friday, May 24, 2013
There are no normal people in my life.
Harold Fantastic Longpants*.........
Toni: !!!!!!!!!!!!
Harold Fantastic Longpants: yes.
Toni: Okay.
Harold Fantastic Longpants: STOP TALKING ABOUT ASS SNIFFING. I GET ENOUGH FROM THE DOGS
Toni:OMGOD STOP YELLING AT ME
Harold Fantastic Longpants: OK
Toni: No one said anything about ass SNIFFING. I think tasting was the word used
Harold Fantastic Longpants: I was trying to forget that part.
Toni: But I said it's NOT allowed, so it can't be that traumatizing
Harold Fantastic Longpants: Ah
yes hm. THe wife and I are going up to the Hamptons to enjoy the beach
and maybe take in one of the many local ass tastings Hm
Toni: See, mine lets you visualize people not tasting ass. Yours makes you think, omg the Longpantses enjoy ass.
Toni: hrm.
Harold Fantastic Longpants: This is flipping hilarious
Toni: I might need to post this conversation on my blog.
Harold Fantastic Longpants: Ok, but I demand to be known as "Harold Fantastic Longpants"
Toni: Alright. Names will be changed for privacy and scaredy pants.
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