But What If I Need Butter?

The past couple of weeks have been a little hard on the emotional side of things... which, if you know me well, is not something I ever readily admit to. I blame it on the upcoming holidays. A lot of people have difficulty this time of year... those who have lost loved ones, those who don't have close loved ones, those who are ill... i could go on and on. Infertility fits squarely in that catgory of people. The holidays are largely centered around children... from the songs on the radio down to the cutesy Rudolph onesie in Target... for instance, on a normal summer day, walking by the 'baby' section of Wal-Mart makes me hold my breath and walk a little faster. During the holidays, I might as well avoid that area of the store all together... which is unfortunate because it is next to the dairy section where they keep wonderful things like butter and milk. Heck, Christmas is a holiday firmly centered around THE baby, for crying out loud... Nativity scenes once made me feel very peaceful and calm... now they just turn me into a blubbering mess.

So, all that to say, I've been a little touchy. Which is directly related to how I ended up crying in the bathroom at a church during a ladies' evening while everyone else enjoyed their cheesecake and coffee and listened intently to a speaker telling us how to "Bring Home the Wonder of Christmas"... the last straw on the proverbial camel's back was this cheesy song about Mary and how she felt about Jesus... so I did what any touchy barren woman would do... I faked a choking cough to explain my watery eyes and high-tailed it to the loo where I could regain my composure in private. I am not ashamed people:-) But, that is not where my emotional mini-breakdown started...

It all started ealier in the evening listening to other women complain about their children... A little disclaimer- I know being a parent is the most difficult job on the planet... I know that sleepless nights make you crazy, and tantruming children make you want to sell them on the black market, and teenagers have their own universe of problems. I know that mothers need to feel comfortable expressing their frustration with mothering sometimes, and that there is a lot of pressure to be supermom... I know.

But, the fact still remains that I would give absolutely anything in the entire world to have the opportunity to complain about having to get up every night for a year to nurse my child.

This song has been in my head a lot lately... most of you have probably seen or heard it. If so, go about your business. If not, I encourage you to listen and watch. Just ignore the theatrical hand motions... they annoy me...

Not 30

I am not thirty. Not yet anyway. My 29th birthday was last week, and Sugarbear went around telling everyone that I was not thirty. Sure, people have teased me, last year in my twenties, etc. It's all in good fun, and getting older never seemed all that worrisome to me. Who knows, maybe one of these days I'll actually start to feel like a grown-up versus some tongue-tied, half-scared kid. So, turning 30 next year doesn't bother me in and of itself. Turning 30 and still being a family of 2 bothers me beyond description. But, that's not my point.

My point is that even though there are things that I hope change before I turn 30, I still love birthdays. Why? Not because of the gifts or the cake, or the happy birthday wishes. My favorite thing about my birthday is a phone call. I have a large immediate family, and we are a fair distance away from each other. So, birthday phone calls are required in my family. Sometimes my twin brother and I race to see who can call each other the earliest. I love all the birthday phone calls, but one in particular is especially meaningful.

For as long as I’ve been old enough and far enough away to get birthday phone calls, my birthday has always started with a short but sweet phone call from my grandmother. Every year on the night before my birthday, I make sure I put my phone by my bed, because I know that before I get out of bed, my grandmother will call. She always calls first. She doesn’t say hello, she doesn’t say good morning. She sings me happy birthday. Bless her heart, singing has never been her thing. (which she readily has admitted to for as long as I remember). But, she sings me happy birthday. And it is the highlight of my day.

The older I get, the more and more that one warbly happy birthday phone call means to me. I cherish it because there will be a birthday, when I’m very old, where I won’t get woken up by that early morning birthday serenade from my grandmother. The sweetest traditions don’t always come in big, grandiose gestures. Sometimes they come in a simple, sweet phone call from a slightly tone deaf little not-too-old lady…

Siblings

I have a big family. I have 2 brothers and 2 sisters. There is me (technically the oldest), my twin brother C, my middle sister B, my little brother W, and my littlest sister M. My siblings are one of the reasons I want a large family. (failing miserably at that at the moment, but that's another post for another time). My siblings are some of my best friends, and being the oldest, I am very much the caretaker... the whole birth-order psychology seems to be exaggerated in my family. I am fiercely protective of them, particularly my two youngest siblings, and do not take kindly to anyone being mean to them, bullying them, or hurting their feelings, no matter how much I might pick on them:-). After some stressful circumstances over the weekend, I got to thinking about how different we all are, particularly the three adults. My two youngest siblings are still in high school, so as much as I think they are the smartest, coolest, funniest, sweetest, most interesting and adorable people ever, I didn't include them in my observations. So, to demonstrate the differences between me and my two adult siblings, here is a list of various situations, and a description of how each of us would respond.

1. You lose your job.

Me- I will proof read your resume, help you scour the want ads, and help you think through possible interview questions.

C- He will commiserate with you on how awful your old boss was, how you didn't make enough money anyway, and how much getting  fired "sucks, man". Then he will let you beat him in Halo just to make you feel better.

B- She will bake you 'Sorry You Got Fired' cupcakes, and then she will give you the name and number of the friend of a friend she met last weekend whose brother's neighbor owns a company that is specifically looking for someone just like you... then she will take you shopping for a new, perfect interview outfit.

2. You get dumped.

Me- I will tell you I'm sorry, then spend the evening making you laugh with sarcastic commentary on the things I didn't like about your ex anyway.

C- He will take you to Hooters, buy you a drink, and introduce you to either his cute, lonely coworker, or the one Hooters girl that doesn't flirt with him... then he'll tell you the horror story of his roommate's awful breakup, including the conspiracy theory on what happened to his roommate's puppy... just to make you
feel better.

B- She will make you break-up cookies, and threaten to have her 'acquaintance' in the bad part of town go key your ex's truck.She will then put together a Friends-worthy relationship-cleansing-ritual evening complete with bonfire of useless cards and gifts, and knowing her, ending with cute fireman after said bonfire gets
out of hand.


3. You are in the hospital.

Me- I will come sit with you... conversation optional. I will go track down your nurse when you need something. I will make inappropriate, but hilarious, jokes about your condition that youcan't help but laugh at. I will rub your feet, but will hate it, because I hate feet...but I'll do it anyway because it needs to be
done.

C- He will come see you, and score extra pudding cups by flirting with your hot nurse. He will bring you his favorite movie to watch, just to make you feel better.

B- She will be your hookup for any contraband that isn't allowed in your room... cigarettes, Red Bull, your dog... it doesn't matter, she will find a way to sneak it in. She will bring you your favorite lunch, and will sneak you soda before surgery. She will score you a better room because she had a history class for half a semester with the girlfriend of the son of some hospital administrator. She will call out anyone that is anything but attentive and sensitive to your needs.


4. Your pet dies.

Me- I will tell you I'm very sorry, because I know that pets are like family. I will give you suggestions on excellent rescue programs should you choose to get another pet. I will offer you theservices of a certain hateful housecat to ease the blow.

C- He will sympathize, tell you about every pet he's ever lost, and encourage you to talk about how good your pet was, just to make you feel better.

B- She will bring you soup, a commemorative plush toy, and will help you write the eulogy. She will offer suggestions on pet crematoria, or buy you a flower to plant over the gravesite if you choose to bury your pet's remains. She will present you with a bronzed collar engraved with your pet's name, and for Christmas
that year, will present you with a certificate for the star that she named in your pet's honor.

My siblings... I love them. And their quirkiness. In a lot of ways, I wish was more like them... they are excellent people, and I'm glad I belong to them:-)

Lazy Cat

I spend a lot of time talking about the puppies. I realized that I have not devoted equal time to the feline. Like I've said before, the kitten was a surprise gift from my husband one day a couple of years ago when I was feeling more than a little sorry for myself, and he felt I needed something to nurture. The problem is, the feline wants nothing to do with me. She hates my guts. She will barely let me near her. However, she loves Sugarbear. She sleeps at his feet, sits in his lap, and tries to groom his head. I reach to pet her, and she runs away, if she doesn't flat out bite me.

That really doesn't have much to do with this post... the point is that she lives a plush life befitting any cat... she gets the best food, lots of attention from Sugarbear, plays when she wants, sleeps when she wants... so I spent a lot of time picking out a toy that she would like, that would endear her to me... and what does she do?

She doesn't even bother to get up to play with it.

This is not a political post...

Disclaimer: I do not mean the following to be any kind of political statement. it is strictly for humorous value. I do not fully agree with either major party, and am pretty moderate in most of my views. I respect the President, as he is the leader of our great country... the Nobel prize committee... not so much...

The following are things that went through my head on learning that President Obama had won this year's Nobel peace prize...as promised to Mama Bonk-Chonk.

- I am sceptical that 3 years of being on the national political scene can qualify someone to be President... but hey, if the Nobel committee thinks that 12 days of being on the international scene can qualify someone for a Nobel peace prize, then apparently I was wrong.

- Last year's winner was honored for work over three decades to resolve international conflicts on several continents... this year's winner was honored for work over 12 days to attend multiple inaugural balls and press conferences... at this rate, I expect a call from the Nobel committee any day now for the 15 minutes I spent yesterday reading about the Afghan war...

-Using the Nobel committee’s selection process, I should get employee of the year for giving my boss a list of the things that I want to accomplish over the next four years… it doesn’t matter if I actually accomplish anything, just that I am able to turn a phrase while making my to-do-list.

- I’m trying to figure out if it was the “Can We Do It, Yes We Can” or the “Fired Up, Ready To Go” cheer that the Nobel committee identified as having the most impact on world peace.

-Maybe the Nobel committee is on to something... how would it have changed the world if Nelson Mandela was given the Nobel peace prize when he was just PLANNING on being an anti-apartheid activist…

-Mahatma Gandhi never won a Nobel peace prize… freakin’ Gandhi…

-Alfred Nobel’s will stated that the peace prize go to someone who has done “the most or the best work for fraternity among nations, for the abolition or reduction of standing armies, and for the holding and promotion of peace congresses.” Well, surely the Beer Summit qualifies for two out of the three…

-Bono, with all of his philanthropic work, has done more to deserve a Nobel peace prize than President Obama…recording Sunday Bloody Sunday for instance …

Food Bowl? What Food Bowl?

This is my weinie dog.



This is my Chica dog.




THIS is the post about Ginger disemboweling her toys.

So, what does Chica do, you ask? Chica dog is dilligent about hiding her food bowl so that no pesky feline or Dachshund can steal her food. (Don't get me wrong, the Dachshund is by no means wasting away... she's quite robust.) How does she hide the food?

By covering it of course.

What does she cover it with? Anything she can find on the floor. We will pour food in the bowl, and a few minutes later, will hear Chica rooting around in the bowl, covering it up. We hear this sound in the middle of the night when she gets up to eat too... she can't put her toys away after playing, but she can re-cover her food after eating... go figure. If someone, or some other animal, approaches her food dish after covering, Chica will get up and stand guard until the danger passes. If I uncover the food so the Dachshund can eat, it's only a matter of time before Chica covers it again. Here are some examples of her handy work.

Disemboweled toy scraps.


A pillow case. (I was doing laundry, and had stripped the bed, putting the sheets in a pile to wash.)


A dress I had failed to put in the hamper. (shocking, I know.) And a toy scrap.


Sugarbear's socks. It's funny how she uses both socks.


Socks/toy combo.

She uses anything that is handy... her blankets, towels. Fluff from toys. Scraps of paper. She will spend forever making sure it is covered just right.

I don't have the heart to tell her that we all know where the food bowl is... Dachshund included.

Pianos and Pom-Poms

I remember taking piano lessons when I was a kid. I always had a good ear for music, and generally did well. I did not have very many distinguishing skills as a child, so the predictability of piano was good for me. I practiced, I excelled. My brother played football, my sister was a cheerleader, I did not really have a lot of choice but to join in as another cheerleader. At this, I did not excel.

Most things in life are like piano lesson... the harder you work, the more successful you are. The harder you study, the better your grades. The more you prepare for your presentation at work, the better job you do.... I could go on and on. You have control over your success. I started thinking about things that don't work this way. Cheer leading for me. No matter how many practices I attended, or how much I desired to fit in with the other girls, I never quite cut it. Illness. If you are diagnosed with a disease, no matter how well you follow a treatment plan, your outcome is not guaranteed. The most routine of procedures or treatments can have complications.

Infertility is in this category. My thought process in general has totally changed since we began treatment. Offspring and my lack thereof is never far from my mind... it is constantly in the back of my head, just waiting for a lull in my train of thought, or for a little girl in a monogrammed sundress to walk by. The kicker is, no matter how much I want it, no matter how much or long I try to achieve it, success is not guaranteed. We can practice and work hard... We can do every fertility treatment under the sun, we can pray and meditate on this elusive blessing 24/7... but we may never conceive. I have no control.

So, as much as I want the sure success of the piano keys under my fingers, in reality, I may always be the ungainly, ungraceful, chubby cheerleader in the back row...