Grab your coffee

In response to my eternal suckage on the blog, this post will be one giant update on all that is going on. Random thoughts included. I suggest you pour yourself a cup of coffee.

BABY NEWS

We had our big ultrasound last week. First, let me say that it is incredible to see the babe go from snail like status to human like status. My baby looks like a baby! Heart, lungs, brain - all measuring perfectly. And at a whopping 9 ounces - the baby is right on track.



Allow me to share with you how the big reveal went down.

U/S Tech: If you'll look right here....that's the sex!

Me: So....what is it?

Tech: What does it look like?

Me: A wiener.

Tech: (not amused) Yes. It's a boy

A BOY! I will say probably a thousand times before his arrival - I knew it, I knew it, I knew it.
We are absolutely thrilled! Snails, trucks, mud - A boy.
We're having a son. I have a son. Wow. It's incredible.

I've also started to feel some more definite movement. Now, I thought I felt some in the past week or so. But I had to sit still, close my eyes, and really concentrate.
And even then, I wasn't sure that I wasn't making it all up.

But in the past couple of days - there is no mistaking it. I can feel my son moving around inside my belly. It's is the most bizarre and amazing experience thus far. Although I'm sure it will be topped, shortly.

We also have decided on his name.

Elliot Kilren

Kilren was PawPaw's middle name. It seems very fitting to use it. Elliot would be his first great grandson. Not only is it a sweet tribute the the incredible man that Elliot will never meet. It's an opportunity for us to teach Elliot so much about this man we call PawPaw.

FAT AND KU

I have talked about taking belly pictures of my ever changing, but less than ideal pregnant self. I have talked about sharing openly about some of the thoughts and logistic of being a fat girl in pregnancy.
But until now, I have not done so.

Partly, because I'm a pathological procrastinator. And partly because even I - the usually confident, pretty fat girl - has moments of insecurity.

But alas, here goes. My first public belly pic.

18 weeks, 5 days



And here are the conclusions that I have drawn thus far, in this regard. If you are fat and pregnant, trust me the fat will be your first "belly".

It gets pushed up and out by what is actually baby. My stance: Rock the belly fat. I am.

I love y'all. 'Til next time.

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas.

This morning when I woke up, my right boob started to leak. As I started helplessly at Matt Lauer's beautiful face, I panicked. A leaking boob is all part of the deal, but already?

Reminder to self: You are quickly approaching the halfway mark. Lest we forget.

Ultrasound is almost a week away. Holy crap.

We also ordered baby furniture. Well, my MIL did. Which is awesome. We inherited the crib from SIL and my MIL ordered this gorgeous dresser/changer/hutch for us.

After Christmas Mom is taking me shopping for the glider.

Ahhh, Christmas. Christmas is halfway.

And Christmas is such a magical time of year for me. It's new and fresh and cold. (We actually might have snow tomorrow!)
People smile a little more. Are more willing to let you merge into the 25 mile long stretch of traffic. The bells ring outside Target and the light come on around the neighborhood.

I've associated Christmas with the growth of my pregnancy for so long. Knowing that it's the halfway point. Knowing that our baby will have a sex and a name. Knowing that Project: Operation Nursery will commence.

And it is upon us. Leaky boob in tow.

Yes, friends...It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas.

All I can think about during sex is...

Trying not to fart.

So hot.

I am a crapy blogger.

Allow me to offer my apologies once again. So much has been going on. Well, so much and so little, it seems. All at the same time.

I'm feeling more and more pregnant everyday. Which is awesome and bizarre. And it is FLYING BY. Which freaks me out. I'm 16 weeks today. Let me repeat that.

16 weeks.

Big ultrasound is scheduled for December 15th. A mere two weeks away. I still think it's a boy. We'll see. I'm always wrong when I guess for other people. Always.

In other news, the holidays are weird without PawPaw. He's always been the focal point around which my entire, very large family revolves. Everyone seems a little lost now. What do we do? Where do we go? I foresee the big giant multi-generation Holiday gatherings becoming merely a memory very soon.

And you know what? That's okay. It's life. People die. Things change. People have families of their own. Traditions that need to be built. Things change.

Oh, how things change.

I'll try to keep y'all posted more consistently in the coming weeks. If I fail, I shall pay my debt in cookies.

Quick update.

You like the new background? I love it. Much more.....me, than before.

I'm doing well. Second trimester! HOLY CRAP, this is flying by. When I see Xmas stuff in stores, I think about how I'll be 20 weeks at Xmas. And that's halfway. And the stuff is in stores. It's coming. Quickly.

I've also developed a new found and intense love for milk. And I am not a milk drinker. Never have been, but lately I can't get enough.

Oh, and I have decided just now, that I will start a new "Fat and Pregnant" segment on the blizzog.

Starting...well, when I start it and I'm going to try to do it weekly. I'm tired of not wanting to share pictures and the truth is that fat girls have certain um....issues...shall we say, in pregnancy.

Inner thigh chaffing for example. Or the swelling of the spare tire. Maternity clothes bigger than size 10. And for the record, I'm a healthy size 20. So, I'm going to talk about it. The good, the bad, the ugly. Should be interesting.

And until then, dear readers, big kissies.

Stunned.

That's the word that I would use. I have a long time friend whose sister was diagnosed with a very rare, very aggressive form of cancer a couple of years ago. And even though it has never been a secret that her chances were not good, it's very surreal to hear that things are coming to a close.

She's been through everything under the sun in terms of treatment. She was told a few weeks ago that there was nothing more they could do and "to go home and treat the symptoms."

Today, she was given a timeline. They estimate she's got about 3 weeks to live.

Three weeks. Not months. Weeks. Mere days. How does one even begin to process that? How does one even fathom such a reality?

She is 28 and is married with a beautiful 3 year old daughter. Please keep her and her family in your thoughts and prayers.

Thanks.

I'm really going to have a baby.

I had a routine appt today. An appt that held lots of emotion. First off, this very new and very young nurse tried to hear the heartbeat via doppler.

She was unsuccessful. So she called in another nurse. Who also was unsuccessful. A THIRD nurse joined them. They all then proceeded to fondle my belly fat. Digging around for a heartbeat.

Now in hindsight, I can laugh at that image. But in the moment, there was panic. Intellectually, I know that 10 weeks 4 days is very early for a doppler. And that I have lots of padding around my ute, making it even more difficult. But this morning as I lay on that table, looking at the bright overhead lights, fear overcame all logic.

So the nurses excuse themselves from that room. At which time, I look at Mr. J. Tears in my eyes. He says to me. "Baby, you're fine. Munchkin is fine. We're all fine".

The nurse comes back in and sends me to ultrasound. They just want to make sure things are okay. More doubt ensues.

I get to ultrasound....and BAM. Heartbeat. Beautiful and strong. 170 beats per minute.

It was the most beautiful sound I've ever heard. And in that moment an even greater understanding of motherhood was realized. In that moment, it became clearer than ever before that I am having a baby. It feels great.


We're fine. I'm fine. Munchkin is fine. We're all fine.

Cheesy Chicken Soup - cheater style

This is my killer recipe adapted for the crock pot. It came out great! If you want the full version recipe, let me know. But I warn you: it's an asswhip.

You need:
3-4 chicken breasts
6 cups of water
4 chicken bullion cubes
2 cups of diced potatoes (I use red potatoes)
2 cups diced carrots (I use bagged ones and just throw 'em in)
1 medium onion diced( guess what? I used pre cut frozen)
1-2 cups diced celery
1 lb of Velveeta
8 ounce package of extra wide egg noodles

Put the chicken, water, salt and pepper, onion, celery, and bullion cubes in the crock pot on low. Set it for 8 hours.

4 hours in, dump in the carrots and potatoes.

With 1 hour left, break up/shred the chicken. It will be so tender that you can just do it with a fork while its in there. Add cubed Velveeta.

When it's all melted and cheesy looking, throw in the cooked noodles and turn off the crock pot.

It's sooooo good and this makes a ton. We usually eat it for a couple of days and freeze the rest.
Enjoy!

The fun stuff

How far along? 9 weeks

Total weight gain: Zero.

Maternity clothes? Bought some pants. Thinking about wearing them.

Sleep: Fabulous. Wish I could get more. 9 hours a night is just not enough.

Best moment this week: Seeing Munchkin via u/s! Looking sort of baby-ish.

Movement: My fat goes jingle jangle.

Gender: I think boy. Mr. J thinks girl. We'll see in about 10 weeks!

Labor Signs: No way, Jose.

Belly Button in or out? In. But the fat roll that the belly button often hides in is becomming much more shallow.

What I miss: Being able to eat first thing in the morning. Now I have to let my tummy settle a bit. Boo.

What I am looking forward to: Week 10! Prune, here we come!

Weekly Wisdom: Pick your battles. Proving you're right all the time is tiring.

Milestones: Heartbeat of 162!

Dear Munchkin, (Week 9)

First of all, allow me to apologize for the suckage. What? You've seen this blog. Are you surprised? Judge not little one. And hope that you get your Daddy's punctuality and follow through abilities.
So yes, I missed some letters. I'll make it up to you.
I'll buy you a donut tomorrow. How's that? Yes, you are my child after all. I know how to work you already.

So, week 9. This is a big one for you. Oh, wait. Before we go any further, allow me to say that you are the most beautiful fetus that I have ever seen. And yes, I said fetus. You officially graduate from embryo this week! Congrats. Again, I'll get you a donut.

You're starting to build muscles this week. Muscles that you'll use later on to kick me from the womb. And even later, to smile up at me. Or grasp my pinkie with your tiny fingers. And maybe one day to smack your little brother or sister upside the head. Or cut your own hair. Steal the car keys and sneak out of the house. Ah, sweet little muscles.

You are also starting to develop even more facial features this week. You are going to be beautiful. Already are. Somethings a mother just knows.

So grow on, Munchkin. Suck all the nutrients and energy from me that you can. I'm happy to host such an awesome little parasite. Can't wait to see you.

Until then, kid.

Momma

Holy Crap. It almost looks like a baby.

Now you're looking down on the babe. Head to ass. Left to right. You see it? Tilt your head a little and squint. Yeah, just like that. There. Don't move. There it is. My baby.

Holy crap. Something about this pic. Maybe how different it is from the one just 2 weeks ago. Maybe that it resembles something human. Maybe that I'm more emotional now, but OMG, that's my baby. Our baby.

I'm so in love. More and more every single day. Have I said that? Oh, well. 'Tis true.

Munchkin, you are rocking Momma's world.

I get to see the babe again tomorrow! Woot!
Another u/s. And the "pregnant talk" with my OB. Spike. Yes, my OB goes by Spike. And he is awesome. And he wants to give me all the do's and don'ts. That kind of stuff.

I also almost threw up today. Almost. But so far, no vommies.

I'll post the u/s when I get it. I'm sure Munchkin will enjoy that. Little ham.

The spawn is making me mushy.

I can't stop crying. Well, I can stop. But not for long. So I'm going to surrender to the mush and just say what I need to.

I'm going to have a baby. I'm going to be a mom. I am growing this little snot inside me and I could not be happier.

I am absolutely overwhelmed. When I stop to think about it, I am speechless. Um. I know, right?
It's amazing. And it's happening. To me. To us. And it makes me all warm and fuzzy inside.

There. I said it.

Not an apology post.

One word: Cheeseburger.

Ultimate satisfaction. I've been thinking about you, dear burger, since 9am. When I first learned of your presence via the daily cafeteria menu email. I must say it. I love you.

On a side note, I will add that the feeling of a aptly satisfying a food craving is unmatched. You know that feeling when you have to pee so badly. And then finally....FINALLY, you sit down in pure bliss, as your bladder empties its contents?

It's like that. Only 847,629, 498 times better.

I'm sorry that I've been non-blogging.

There is a parasite in my uterus that is draining every ounce of life from me.
Your regularly scheduled programming shall return as soon as I can stay awake for more than 90 minute intervals.

Whoop.

There it is.



Measuring perfectly. Healthy heartbeat. Pretty much the coolest thing ever.
I'm already totally smitten.

I'm scared.

There. I said it. In fact, I'm really, really scared.

My first ultrasound is Thursday morning. Which seemed so very far away when it was scheduled two weeks ago. Then all of a sudden, I'm talking to a friend today and I say something about tomorrow being Wednesday. Then it hits me. If tomorrow is Wednesday, then tomorrow I can say, "tomorrow is my ultrasound".
Still with me? If not, you may exit slowly on your left.

Now I have tried really hard to be positive about everything. Power of positive thinking, right? Keep telling myself that I have absolutely no reason to believe that things are less than stellar in my ute. None at all. And it's true. But still, I find myself terrified. That we'll get bad news, that there won't be a heartbeat, that my doctor will look at me with a solemn gaze and whisper, "I'm sorry."

And you know what? I'm angry that I'm so scared. I'm angry that these are the thoughts that flood my mind less than 2 days away from this big event.
I want to be excited. I want to be imagening the blinking blob on the ultrasound screen. Or the look on Mr. J's face as he discreetly wipes away a tear. I want THOSE thoughts.

Not the ones I have. The crazy part is that aside from these insane thoughts, I feel really good about everything. My gut instinct is that all is well. And yet, still I cannot shake this fear. I cannot make it go away. Or even take a backseat to the excitement, anticipation, and gratitude.

But I will keep trying. Keep telling myself the things I have been chanting for two weeks.
That I'm going to have a happy, healthy baby.
With ten fingers.
Ten toes.
And my nose. Fingers crossed.

All IS well.

The Holy Grail of Pregnancy

The sleepgasm.

As a woman of child bearing age, you hear about this phonomenon often. And if you are anything like me, you hope and pray that you will one day be a pregnant woman who gets to experience such. I like to think of it as a consolation prize for the constant gas, constipation, and vurps.

Well. I had one. And let me tell you, it was nice. So nice that my climactic moment woke me. Almost propelling me out of bed.

Here's my one issue. I had imagined that this sleepgasm would include a super hot set up.
You know, I'm Meredith Grey and I'm getting it on with McSteamy a la prom night at the hospital. Or...I don't know...maybe Johnny Depp and I are sailing across the Riviera on his yacht. Naked.

No. Let me tell you the set up that the Pregnancy Gods bestowed upon me.
I dreamed that I was lying in bed. Next to Mr. J. He was sound asleep. I reached over to my nightstand drawer and pulled out Ol' Faithful. And went to town on myself.

Riveting, no? Seriously? That could be any random IRL night in my house.
Not sleepgasm material in my book.

Hopefully, they will continue. With something hotter than marriage bed masturbation.

Healthy eating FAIL

Yesterday I went to the grocery store. I walked through the isles with stellar focus. Baby in mind. Chanting to myself, "eat healthy...the babe needs more than chocolate", etc.
I bought cucumbers, carrots, peaches, bananas, apples, wheat thins, all kinds of stuff.

Fast forward to today. I'm sitting on the couch, snuggling with my pups. And suddenly, I remember that there is a box of brownie mix in the pantry. Now don't ask me how on earth a box of brownie mix managed to survive in this house longer than one hour post purchase. I have no idea. But there it was. In all it's Betty Crocker red box glory. Fate. A gift from the gods of yummy. For a moment, I thought I heard angels sing as I opened the pantry door. And I think perhaps I saw a light shine down.

So I made brownies. Then I topped it with ice cream. And enjoyed every bite.

I'm pretty sure the peaches were mocking me.

Baby Letter: Week 5

Dear Munchkin,

You have a nickname! I let Daddy pick it. I figured that's the least harmful way to let him have some say in this whole thing. So, Munchkin you are! It's been a busy week. I'm still feeling okay. And for that, I am grateful.
Exciting things are happening this week. You are the size of an apple seed. And many of your major organs are starting to form. Heart, liver, stomach, etc. How cool is that? Mabye that's why I've been so tired. Growing a human is hard work.

My favorite part of this week? It's over. Which means Daddy and I are closer to getting to see you! The ultrasound next week should show off your pretty, healthy heartbeat! Exciting stuff, kiddo.
You just stay nice and warm all snuggled in Mama's ute. I'll do the rest.

One other thing before I go. If there is anything you can do to make my boobs chillax, I'd be appreciative. I'd even consider a deal involving a Sophie. They are completely NSFW. We can't have Mama losing her job over her soon to be triple D's making a cameo at the morning meeting.

Sophie. That's all I'm saying. Squeak. Squeak.

Love you, Munchkin. See ya next week.

Until then,

Mommy

Beta # 2....

2855!

Beautiful. I'm so excited. One week until the u/s. Cross your fingers, say a prayer, or whatever you do that we see a healthy heartbeat.

Nothing much has changed on this end. Still exhausted. Still nauseated off and on. Still no vomiting. Oh, and I'm fairly certain that my left boob is trying to sever itself from my body.

Ouch.

So, I find myself forgetting that I'm pregnant.

Well, not really forgetting, but just randomly remembering. For example, I'm being lazy on the couch, watching Food Network (of course), and suddenly think to myself, "Oh yea, I'm pregnant".
Usually followed by "Holy crap. I'm pregnant".
After which I will say to Mr. J, "Hey baby. I'm pregnant."

He laughs at me. Every time.

I suppose this is part of that "sinking in" process.

A peace offering for my suckage.

I'm sorry. I forgot for a moment that I have a blog. Silly me. Enjoy the apology.

Wow. Where to start?
First Beta is in....(insert drum roll here)...480!!! Yay! Next one is on Monday and I'll have the results Tuesday. I'm still feeling okay. No m/s yet. Thank god! Other than feeling like I've been run over by a herd of rabid kangaroos, I'm doing just fine.

I went to my "Confirmation Appointment" on Thursday.
"Congratulations, Mrs. J! You're pregnant!"
Yes. Yes, I know. I've urinated on multiple pregnancy detection devices. Thanks though.
First ultrasound on 9/24. Hoping that we see a beautiful little heartbeat. I think that's about it in terms of the "update".

Mr. J is pretty nervous. He's really trying not to let himself get "too attached" this early.
Yeah, good luck with that. I caught him talking to my belly fat in the middle of the night.
He says he'll feel better after the ultrasound. My doctor really spooked him with talk of a "viable vs. non-viable pregnancy.
And of course, I'm nervous too. But I have made a conscious decision to enjoy every moment of this pregnancy. And I am. So, I am putting the fear on the back burner. It's still there of course. Poking at me randomly.

That's about it, folks. I will try to be more consistent 'round here.
I'm now off to my ice cream breakfast. Ta ta.

The first letter. Week 4.

Dear Baby,

And so this begins.
I guess I could start by crowning you with a name more personal than Baby. A nick name. A term of endearment. Something special between us and Daddy. But all I can think of is Baby. As in, "Holy crap, were going to have a BABY!!"
I'm currently wondering if this excitement/shock is going to wear off before your arrival. I suppose by then it will be replaced with a completely new version.

I want you to know, first and foremost, how much you are wanted and loved already. There are moments in between those of utter shock and disbelief, that are filled with such gratitude and awe. Moments that bring tears to my eyes. Moments in which I look away quickly, so as to not prompt Daddy's own tears. Between you and me, I'm not sure he'd stop crying if he let himself start. Yes, Baby. Gratitude. Awe. Humility.

Gratitude. I'm grateful for you. Grateful for the life that is to be. Grateful beyond my ability to describe. You know, Daddy and I have been thinking about you for so long. Loving you even before you were you. Uncertain when or how you would come into our lives. Just hoping. Loving. Allowing ourselves to love something, whose existence we had no guarantee of. But now you're here. You're you. You exist. And you, Baby, are incredibly loved.

Awe. According to the ever handy dictionary.com: "An overwhelming feeling of reverence".
That is a pretty accurate summary. Reverence for this process. This creation of life. This miracle. That I, along with the love of my life, get to experience. Again, my words fail.

Humility. Let's talk about that one for a second. I am so incredibly humbled to be blessed to this degree. To be able to write this letter. As I have so often dreamed about. As others have dreamed about. And as so many are still dreaming about. Yet somehow, someway, today - I get to write. I am overwhelmed with humility.

Wow. For something as tiny as a single poppy seed, you are certainly quite skilled at evoking an array of emotions. Something tells me that I am in BIG trouble.

I love you, Baby.

Until then,
Mommy

Holy shit. I'm pregnant.

I know we've covered this already, but I *think* it may be starting to sink in just a tad. I can't imagine, what it will feel like to fully process such a thing.

Holy Shitballs.

I'm pregnant. I took a test this morning, ironically, just before I went to pick up my Clomid Rx from the pharmacy. Bam. A line. I actually thought I saw one yesterday. But Mr. J told me I was hallucinating. When my temp stayed up this morning, I decided to test. Wow. I am just speechless. So happy, obviously. But really surprised. And I've been pretty calm all day. I wonder when this will sink in. Probably when I go to deliver. Wow. I'm going to deliver a baby. Wow.
Wow. Wow.

I am exhausted.

Seriously? Seriously. Physically, mentally, emotionally...I got it all.
I also started the Parlodel today, for my elevated prolactin levels.
Oh, and the med info says it's for "infertility disorders".

Fun!

I'm scared.

So, we are moving a little faster on the crazy train of baby making than I expected. I have had some abnormal bloodwork that has prompted some additional blood work and a Semen Analysis for Mr. J. I know this is a good thing. If there are problems as my doc suspects, I want to know sooner rather than later. Want to get a jump on correcting the problem or adjusting our strategy. I know that knowledge is power. I get it.

But I am shaking in my slippers. I'm having difficulty formulating my thoughts on this, much less accurately describe it. So please, bear with me. I feel like getting closer to answers means two things.
1. (and perhaps most obviously) It means that we increase our chances of conception. And ultimately of babydom. This is a good thing, I know.

2. It means that we are closer to potentially exhausting other options. And potentially having to come to terms with the possibility that we will never reach babydom.

That may sound crazy or excessive or unnecessary, but that's where I am.

And I'm not ready for #2. There is a part of me that wants to keep humping as clueless and hopeful as ever. Without any bloodwork, or medicine, or visits to the "Whackatorium" (as a friend of mine so eloquently put it). Just hump and hope. Hump and hope. That sounds nice.

But there is a part of me, bigger still, that is grateful for good doctors, a mostly awesome husband, modern medicine, and answers.

I have never been so excited and so fearful all at the same time. I suspect that is a combination that will become very familiar from this point forward.

I can barely keep up.

So much has been happening in my world. I have hardly had the time to poop much less blog. My apologies.
Where to begin? I guess chronologically, would make sense.

We got new floors put in! Woot! Finally. We are just too messy to have carpet. Two dogs, a cat, and a husband with the equilibrium of a 2 year old, does not a clean house make. In fact, I can't even count the number of stains the carpet had endured at the hand of my husband in the past 6 months. Let alone the 2.5 years we have lived here. So finally, sweet victory for my house. Out with the Dr. Pepper stained and dog hair infested carpet, and in with beautiful hickory floors.

You may be asking yourself, "what comes after floors?" Why, new furniture of course. Now, we just went to look. Only look. Get an idea of what kind of money we are talking about. You hear me? Such was the conversation with Mr. J as we parked the car outside the absurdly large furniture store. 2 hours and many dollars later, we had ordered new living room furniture.
Naturally. I must say, it is perfect. And its sale price left me completely powerless to it's subtle beauty. It's on back order so we will have it in a couple of weeks.

In less exciting news, another heartbreak. Another loss. Seems they are simply everywhere. Waiting around every corner to knock the wind of optimism out of your increasingly deflated soul. It's rough. I've seen 3 women in the past month lose their baby. 3. One right after another. No human language is sufficient to describe such horror. I am utterly speechless. I pray for these women and yet have no words. I simply sit, and ponder. Hoping for peace. Somehow, some way. Though, I can't begin to imagine how it will come.

And selfishly, it brings fear. Lots of fear. That I too, may find myself one day in such unspeakable pain. I do not know how one survives through such a thing. And I hope with all that I am, to never learn.

Even so, we walk. We move forward. Through the fear, daring to walk the fragile plank of hope. Dr. appt today. Found out that I have some whacked out hormone levels. So I start meds to correct that this week. More blood work next week, and probably Clomid. Pending the blood work results. It's a very peculiar mix of excitement for taking steps toward parenthood, and fear that those steps will be futile. And yet we walk.

I suppose that's the answer to a lot of this. You just walk. One foot in front of the other. Not knowing where they will lead you. Or your foot will land on solid ground. Or even if you will find the energy for the next step.

We walk.

Lazy Saturday.

I haz one. And I loves it.

::headwallrepeat::

Inlaws. Drama. Drunk idiots. Drunk J. Ignorance. Baby questions. Bitterness. More Drama.

That was my night. The following was my saving grace.

Escape. Happy Dance. Vent. Booty. Ice Cream. Sleep.

Random thoughts from my day

My husband left a voicemail on my work phone at 4:30 AM. It was of him snoring. Hilarious! I guess he sleep dialed me.

People are dumb and inconsiderate. Why would you get onto an elevator before everyone already on it has gotten off? Next time, Mr. Impatient, I fully intent to swing my overstuffed purse into your frank and beans on my way out.

Not being able to help those you love, sucks. It is utter helplessness. Period.

Fish stick are awesome and bring me back to pre-k.

Taking a moment to get out of your own shit, and help another person even in the smallest way, is quite a refreshing experience. It is generally under-rated and I for one, am going to try to do it more often.

Goodnight and big balls.

Why not?

Since this blog is titled "Recipes and Babies", I figure it's time to actually post a recipe. This is a super easy dinner that I do once in a while when I'm tired and don't feel like putting too much energy into cooking. Enjoy

Mexican Fried Rice

1 lb ground beef or turkey
1 box Spanish style Rice-a-Roni
1 can diced tomatoes with the juice
1 can of black beans drained and rinsed
1 can of whole kernnel corn
shredded cheese
sour cream

*feel free to use frozen or fresh veggies. I'm lazy*

Brown and drain the ground beef. Add to it the Rice-a-Roni and cook as per the directions on the box. It will call for the tomatoes.
When the rice is done, add in the black beans and the corn, stirring until hot.
Then I transfer it to a casserole dish, top with cheese and bake @ 350 until cheese is melted.

We usually top with sour cream and eat it Chipotle style in a bowl. Although I have used it as a stuffing for burritos and peppers before.
Easy and yummy.
Hope you like it.

Again, with the suckage.

I sort of keep forgetting that I have a blog. Well, not really forgetting as much as just not thinking about it. I'm sorry. There's really not much to say.

I want to be fucking pregnant. That's a given. I'm not. Oh, another given.
I "know" a couple of really amazing women that have gone through much more than I have on this crazy ttc journey. And to tell you the absolute truth, I admire them. I'm assure you that dealing with IF issues is not something that I could handle. I imagine it's one of those things were you just keep putting one foot in front of the other, not really certain of the ground beneath your step, but nonetheless...walking. Albeit is slowly and in fear.
I hope that I never have to walk that path. I fear that I will. I don't know why, I just do.

Mr J. and I will often joke about how nothing is easy for us. We always get the short end of the stick. If something is going to go wrong, it is going to be in our lives. If somebody drowns trying to forge the river, it will be us.

Call it trial and tribulation, spiritual growth, if you will. You know how I feel about all that? Bullshit. Completey fucking over rated, growth is. I don't want to grow. Just once. I want to not have to climb a god damned mountain. Don't want to swim the Pacific. Don't want to jump through hoops of fucking fire. Don't want to run. Just want to walk. Slowly, calmly, without obstacle. Just once.

Okay. Well. Guess I did have a few things to say. Hmm.

My apologies for the suckage.

It's been a while, now hasn't it.
Well, let's see what is going on...Oh, I know. We got a new pup! Oh my fucking god, she is so cute! She's an 8 week old, 2 lb, Shih Tzu.
Mr. J had been putting the pressure on and I finally just cracked. I don't know what I was thinking. But she's so sweet. I love her to pieces already.

On the baby making front, my body is fucking with me. As usual. One minute I'm hopeful, the next I'm certain I'm about to start. At this point, I'm so tired of the back and forth, that I don't even care. I just want this cycle to be over. BFP or BFN. Either way.



That's a lie. I want to be knocked up. The above is one of the many delusional things that I tell myself in efforts to remain sane. There are many, many more of them.
So, stay tuned.

So...very...tired.

I have been sleeping, but keep getting more tired. I think it's an emotion overdose. I need my feelings pumped.

My only sunshine.

You are my sunshine,
My only sunshine.
You make me happy,
When skies are grey.
You'll never know dear,
How much I love you.
Please don't take my sunshine away.

Pawpaw used to sing that to me as a little girl. We'd sit in the swing on the back porch of his old house...for hours...and just sing. There are so many things that Pawpaw taught me, growing up. He was a wise man. There are many other words that immediately come to mind when I think of him. Kind. Compassionate. Honest, sometimes brutally so. But probably the thing that sticks out most among all the memories, is how much he loved his family. We were always everything to him. He loved my Mawmaw like I had never seen a person love another. They raised 9 children together, so you know there had to be something incredible between them. She died 12 years ago. He still missed her everyday. Every once in a while, he'd even wake up looking for her. They were married for 56 years when she died. For the past few months, he had been telling my mom that he was ready to go. "I want to go see your Mama", he'd say to my mom. And she'd say, "Not yet, Daddy. It's not time".
Well, as life would have it, time was fast approaching.

Let me back up. Pawpaw had lived with my mom for the last three years. She is the youngest of all the kids, and she made her life about taking care of him. He would have been 93 next month, and was sharp as a tack. Physically, he had been struggling for a while, but thankfully when it got bad, things moved quickly. Hell, last month he made my step dad take him fishing. I say made, because when Pawpaw wants something, he does not let up. Be it fishing, or ice cream. He will be on your ass about it 'til he's satisfied.

Pawpaw saw a lot in his day. Used to tell me about his childhood, meeting Mawmaw, going to the Navy. He had a never ending bag of stories. Some sad, some funny, and some so inappropriate that only Pawpaw could get away with. I'm going to miss that. Even if it was a story I'd heard enough times to recite, I'd curl up next to him and listen with wide eyes. He was an incredible man.

It's funny, how life plays out. He had some excess fluid around his hands and feet. Mom was out of town, so he was with my Aunt, which is rarely the case. She took him to the hospital on Thursday, June 18th. His kidneys were operating at 15%. They talked about dialysis, but he was already pretty frail, and even that would only buy him a couple of months. He looked so tired in that hospital bed. He was rowdy though. Letting everyone withing earshot know just how he felt about the whole thing. I heard "This is bullshit" several times. We don't have much trouble expressing ourselves in our family. Pawpaw was no different. I held his hand, he looked over at me, and talked to me in between naps. The verdict was, that Pawpaw was ready to move on.
On to whatever lies beyond our world here. He died in his sleep at hospice on Monday, June 22nd.
Pawpaw lived a long, sometimes difficult, but ultimately happy and extremely grateful life. He leaves behind more than he probably ever thought he would. I can only hope to be like him, live like he lived, love how he loved.
I imagine, my children will curl up to me and listen to stories of their Great Grandpa Joe, with eyes wide as can be.
I love you, Pawpaw. Forever.

Real life sucks.

We're home! Vegas was so much fun. We gambled a bit and drank a lot. Saw Cirque de solei "O", which was fabulous. If you ever get a chance to see it, do so. I will say, however, that Vegas is exhausting. I was definitely ready to come home when we did. Although, now I kind of miss it. The more I think about it though, it's not really that I miss Vegas as much as I just don't want vacay to end. I am absolutely dreading the return to work tomorrow.

Ah, the real world. It fucking blows. I'd kill to stay home just one more day. Of course that would inevitably turn into another. And another. Until I find my self back in Vegas. Only this time, working as a call girl, because J done lost her job, can't pay the bills - you get the picture. It ain't pretty.

Some of you may find this hard to believe, but my OCD ass was able to leave the BBT in Houston where it belongs. I O'd last week before we left, so although I'm 9dpo, I have no idea what my LP is looking like. I thought it would leave me with slightly less obsession material. But oh, no. Instead of staring at my chart for hours, I'm pushing on my boobs to test soreness and mentally noting the number of times I pee per day.

The point? You can take the girl out of the chart, but you can't take the chart out of the girl.

Sweet sin

So my day began with what I would call a spiritual hemroid. Evangelical nutjobs yelling about sin and hell in the faces of innocent citizens just trying to get a drivers license. No lie. At the goddamned DMV. I sat on the phone with Mr. J, loudly voicing my strong opinion on the whole thing. Which in case you are wondering, is that nothing that abbrasive, and fueled by fear should ever, ever be associated with the term "god". Ever. It's those shananigans that make it difficult for people to believe in something bigger. Newsflash psycho, you're the one we all don't want to become. And you should be ashamed of yourselves.

Speaking of sin, T minus 12 hours 'til I'm in Vegas. I am so excited. It's going to be awesome. Nothing like lots of drunken sex, dirty dancing, and gambling. And just for you, raging Bible psycho....perhaps a little bit of porn.

Typical Monday

The good news is that we leave for Vegas on Thursday. The bad news is this makes for an incredibly stressful 3 day week. Trying to get everything together for my sub. It's crazy. I'm going to need Vegas more than ever by the time Wednesday rolls around.

I think I can, I think I can

Ovulate, that is. These poor lil' ovaries are havin' a time of it this month. Twice now, I've gotten a decent temp spike that drops the next day. Of course, I think each time I see it, "That has got to be it". Then...down it goes. Finally today, after 12 days of OPKs - a positive.
So we did it. Wham bam thank you ma'am style. Got the job done. Quick and dirty. You get the point. You hear a lot in the land of ttc about the importance of not allowing sex to solely be about creating a spawn. But I am here to tell you that there is something to be said for the um...well, the deposit on demand technique.

The Bleeding Tongue

Let me tell you about my mother fucking day. First, I overslept. Once I finally got up, I rushed to work for an early morning meeting, which I ended up missing. I'm starving, so I swing by McD's, proceed to scarf down a heavenly mcmuffin(my one saving grace today) and what then....I bite my tongue. Hard. It bled. I cried. And cursed the world.
Tomorrow is friday at least. Thank the baby jesus.

I'm a whack job.

I am currently so stressed out that I can't even poop. That's right. My obsession with things that need to get done soon, has left me constipated. Lovely, I know.
I also have been unable to prioritize my "to do's" thus leaving me overwhelmed and not doing any of them. ::sigh::
At least there's always Vegas. Next week, baby!

I've been in the closet all night

5 hours to be exact. 5 gruelling hours. So, here's a confession: I hate to do laundry. Therefore, I have been unable to see the floor of my closet for an absurd length of time. So today, I decide that I can not live like that anymore. Let me just say that I am fucking exhausted, sore, and can't stop sneezing from the dust floating around in my now clean closet. Whew!
But now, my closet has a floor!

I officially suck.

I haven't written about anything interseting in quite some time. Just the same "pregnant", "pregnant not" bullshit. Ugh, if I was my friend I would totally ignore my calls right now.
It's hard. This ttc business. I once heard or read that ttc was very tough on the relationship as a whole. I thought to myself at that time, "it'll be great, such and exciting journey". Blah fucking blah. It sucks ass. Almost as much as I do.

Pretty charts are a cock tease.

My chart rocks. Triphasic. High temps all the way to 12 dpo. Neg hpt.
Tomorrow is a new day and will probably bring a plumeting temp, leaving me with BFP blue balls. I'm over it.

Piggy Flu

The insanity has got to stop. I am, however, sick. And it sucks.
In other news, I woke up this morning to Mr. J staring at me saying, "Is it time to POAS?"
Ah the proverbial question. But the answer at 8dpo is no. Every time. Now, let me tell you, I am a pee-er. I have no qualms about the number of sticks I pee on or the frequency of said peeing. So, we wait. At least until 11dpo.

I wanna be next.

I love hearing about BFP's. It makes me happy. I just want it to be my own BFP. I know that kinda goes without saying when ttc, but I feel better "saying" it. So. There it is. Whoop.

I'm a psycho.

Confession: I have this completely unfounded, completely paralyzing fear that I'm going to have trouble getting pregnant. No basis, no history of anything that would remotely hint at that, just me in all my craziness. It's starting to become a problem. I need a 12 step program for chart obsession.

I'm not pregnant

So, now I am officially "that girl". On to the next cycle. Actually ,I'm already there. In fact, I am hopefully about to O. Yes, that's right. It has taken me a good 2 weeks to admit to myself, on my own blog, that probably no one in the universe will ever read, that I am...that girl.
I'll probably be "that girl" until I'm really pregnant. Although I agree to try. To try not to obsess over every little thing this month. In my defense, I totally had what looked to be the beginnings of a triphasic chart. And what could have been a beautiful implantaion dip. Of course, I know that neither of these things necessarily means a damn thing. Especially when these things are not truly these things. So, here's to being slightly less "that girl".
Oh, I also am trying Robitussin this cycle. Well, Mucinex. I can't stand liquid meds. Anyway, I'm a little scant in the CM dept. This is suppose to help with that. We shall see.

I have a secret

I think I'm pregnant. I'm scared to say it outloud. Scared of being "that girl". Scared of being wrong. But let's just say it won't surprise me if it's true. Of course, I realize that I have nothing to base that upon. I mean, my chart looks good, but that could change at any moment. Don't have any batshit crazy phantom symptoms...just a feeling. That may turn out to be based soley upon hope. I get that. But I just had to say it. Somewhere. Somehow. If for no other reason than if it turns out to be true - it shall be on record. And if I'm wrong. I can delete this.

just another tequila sunrise

this post has nothing to do with either tequila or sunrise....that just popped into my head. Anyway, so on the ttc front, things are trucking along. The hubs in getting more and more excited about the whole thing. Lately, he has been waking me up in the morning with "baby, take your temp" to which i respond, "I just did. Leave me alone". A morning person, I am not. But it's cute to see him excited. Of course he's been ready, but somehow he is able to take a passive, "it'll happen when it happens" approach. Me, on the other hand, I'm temping, and touching anything I can. Which brings me to the fascinating topic of cervical mucus and even more riveting, cervical position. The latter of which, is much more difficult for me. But I believe I'm learning.
Anyway, the point is that the baby making is in full force. So we shall see, I suppose.
Other than that, this stupid weekend has flown by. Why, oh why must tomorrow be Monday already? I don't wanna...........

o happy day

I got a temp spike today. And I am stoked. So much infact, that I cannot go back to sleep. So I'm awake. And I'm thinking that perhaps I am being divinely prepared for my life as I know it to dissapear. B/C this very post officially makes me the most boring person in existance.
Happy Tuesday.

the end.

insanity

So, I'm laying in bed at 5 AM on a Sunday, and instead of being deep in dreams, I'm awake. Wondering what my temp is gonna look like when I take it.
Seriously, it's one thing to be setting an alarm on a Sunday to wake up and take your temp.
It's another thing entirely to lie there in insomnia anticipating the riveting act.
So 5:30 rolls around and I decide to go ahead and take it.
And it's not exactly what I wanted to see.
So now, I'm obsessing about that.
And when tomorrow rolls around....there will be something else.
Then the 2 week wait until I can justify peeing on a stick that will likely rear it ugly barren head.
This is stupid.
How is it that we as rowdy adolescents, we are trained to fear that we could get pregnant simply by looking at a penis.
And then, when one is all grown up and "ready"...it's such an asswhip.

the end.

nymphomania

Husband and I are finally actively trying to get knocked up. There have been many steps to getting the official okay from my docs. I have some crazy medical shit, so things haven't been simple. Anyway, we are officially good to go now and I am officially a nymphomaniac.
I am utterly intoxicated with the idea that we could conceive at any given moment (well for about 4 days a month anyway). I think I am totally driving BabyDaddy (ie husband) crazy.
And not the Oh my god you're driving me crazy, let's make a baby right this effing second kind of way.
So...i'm laying off for now. But when the alarm goes off in the morning it is a.m. baby bootie.

the end.