mydarlingcurse.com

it’s impossible, literally impossible for me to have a family function without drama. thankfully, surprisingly, this time my family wasn’t involved. it was hubbin’s fam that ruined the day.

boo’s b-day party was sunday, and it really was a great party, we were outside there was a bit of a breeze, but not unbearably hot. however, as i was running my ass off (the trainers would be so proud) i came across my SIL - the one married to uncle montana, they are both sitting on the couch and she’s crying. so, as a good hostess and a good SIL, i go over there, check up on things. “is this a deal, you guys want me to leave you alone?” and she says no. and keeps crying. uncle montana bows out since he has zeno and has to keep him entertained.

so Crazy SIL and i go upstairs and she tells me what’s going on. well, she’s 8 weeks pregnant, and they had rought sex last night and now she has pain and is spotting, and she’s feeling sick, etc. ok, i say, that’s kinda normal. well, it never happened when i was preggers with zeno. well guess what sister, 2nd pregnancy, all bets are off. this seems to upset her more.

it’s not heavy she says, but it’s been going on for over 8 hours. ok, i say, should we go up and call the nurse line? will that put your mind at ease? probably, she says.

and here my darlings is where i lose all better judgement….

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i am not one of those people who is ok with spanking their child. as a kid i remember repeated spanks, intended to hurt and punish, with a hairbrush and a wooden spoon. after “discussing” my crimes, my mom would come in, “you’re father and i have decided on ten spanks with the back of a hairbrush - bare bottom.”

i remember breaking one of my groundments and watching TV. my dad left the TV on a certian channel and when it wasn’t returned, he knew i was “a sneak”, as he called me. he marched me upstairs and with a firm hold on my upper arm, threatened me with a belt. i confessed and avoided the strap, but it marked me. i wasn’t special, he’d treat me the same way he treated my half-brothers. there was no special consideration because i was a girl, or becasue i was ten years younger than them.

and last night, in a moment of frustration and utter exhaustion, as my daughter had a fit, i gave her a swat on the butt. the first.

she’s an independent one, my boo. and yesterday she didn’t take a nap. daddy took her to swimming lessons and we didn’t get going on “bedtime” until 9:30 - an hour later than normal. she had gotten a new train set and wanted to keep playing. when we said no, and that it was time for bed, the tantrum started.

there are two very specific things that kids do that really annoy me. one is “the noodle”, you go to pick them up and they slide right out if your hands. usually this action results in a giggle, or because they were so fluid, they hit the ground harder then expected, which adds a whole other level to their frustration. the second one is reminiscent to rigor mortis, but with kicking. this is boo’s reaction of choice.

now my daughter is a tall kid. taller than most, and it’s getting to a point where her father and i are having to adjust our handling of her because she’s so damn long. so when i hauled her up to go to bed last night, she instantly stiffened up. so i lugged her higher on my shoulder, so her head was supported more. this did however put her yelling, crying face closer to my ear. you win some, you lose some.

she continued to protest as i laid her on the changing table - which she’s probably too big for. as soon as she was free of my handle on her, she started to thrash around stiffly, arching her back and locking her legs, grunting through tears “No. No. No. Stop it!” i told her it was time for bed, which made things worse. she tried turning over, sitting up, rolling back and kicking me. i got her diaper off and rigor mortis set in with fresh cries of utter dispair…she even started choking on her own sobs. we don’t act like this, i kept saying, but then she flung herself in an awkward direction and i caught her by the shoulders. “Stop it!” i said, loudly and firmly hoping to get her attention.

however, it only seemed to give her a second wind and the fit was rejuvinated. it was then that i turned her over and gave her a swap on the bum. “there is NO need to act like this. you need to calm down”. yeah, duh. i should get parent of the year - calm down while i’m swatting you on the butt - THAT makes sense.

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dear doreen,

i can’t tell you how happy i am today. while your complete and utter lack of tact practially destroyed me a few weeks ago, your comments and judgements were wasted…completely wasted. but the evil that men do, the good they leave behind. and when the doctor rejoined emryo with mother, i thought “yeah, kid - come on in, stay awhile”.

and while you might think that my neck is too thick, my tits too big, my ass too wide - it doesn’t matter. why? because it was good enough. maybe not good enough for you, but it’s good enough for me, and more importantly, MOST importantly, good enough for the little soul who has decided to join me.

so from hubbin, me and boo - sorry. sorry that you’ll never know happiness quite like this. sorry that you’ll never see these beautiful sunlit moments. i’m so glad that i could share this with you. i’m ecstatic and filled (literally) with heaven.

just wanted you to know.
love,
jodie

uno - while changing boo today, the following conversation takes place:

boo: (looking intently at either the ceiling or my head) ooooooo! bunny!
me: where?
boo: in the hair
me: mommy has a bunny in her hair?
boo: yeah
me: oh no!
boo: get it out
me: (shaking my head all over her) get it out, get it out!
boo: (laughing her heart out) ok, all gone!
me: phew!
boo: phhhheeeeeeeeeeewwwwww!

dos - the comment below, i didn’t actually think anyone read this.

a pox, i cry! a pox on doreen! gah, it took me a while, but i’m over it.

here is what happened….

throughout this entire IVF process my doctor has told me that my weight is an issue. that the anesthesiologist (that stupid bitch, doreen) would not do it if i wasn’t below a certian weight. and then she made me accountable for it, with frequent weigh ins. and once i hit the target weight, i stayed below it, through the entire course of stimulation, etc. and we are talking a difference of a pound. there was a pound between what the certian weight was, and where i was at. one pound.

so this last wednesday was the “retrevial”, it’s the procedure where the doctor goes in a takes the eggs out of the follicles on your ovaries. basically, it’s a big needle up your hooch-can poking at your ovaries - sounds painful. yeah - that’s why the knock you out for it, that’s why they need fucking doreen, the bitch anesthesiologist. and it’s a great day. you know that within a week they will be transfering the fertilized embyos back in. that on this day, the day of the retrevial, your eggs will be fertilized. some might call that the moment of conception. point is, it’s a big day.

and dipshit doreen, detestable doreen, did her damndest to ruin it. the nurse came in and asked questions, she said it looks like my doctor was concerned about my weight, i said i made all the weigh ins, and gave her my weight as of the last weigh in. she said that was fine and that she’d send the doctor in. not my doctor, but the doctor doing the procedure.

the doctor came in, no big deal, he’s calm and confident and showing excitement - after doing 800 of these, he knows what a big day it is. than dragon-lady doreen, despicable doreen, came in and it all came to a screeching halt. basically, she said that my BMI was over the limit at which she was comfortable. she said that because of all the extra tissue around my neck (meaning “fat neck, double chin slob” and while i’ll admit to being overweight, i don’t have a fat neck!), and because of all the extra weight on my chest, read big tits, she wasn’t sure if she could maintain an open air way.

WHAT?

then she went on to question the reasoning of why i was even there! how could my doctor have been so irresponsible in letting me get this far in the process? there was NO WAY she’d have even let me go through the course of stimulation, in her eyes, i had no right to be there. and she wasn’t comfortable doing her job in keeping me out for the procedure. apprently the extra weight of my chest made her lose confidence in being able to maintain an open airway. out of all the airways in the room, she should have been more concerned about her own.

she banished husband from the process. he pleaded his case, as most debate champions do, with tenacity, but damnable doreen had the power to kick him right the hell out and she did. that’s when i called the whole thing off.

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i am not yet able to put down into words what has happened to me over the last couple of days. i am a horrific mess. while the IVF stuff is going well, the procedure yesterday caused me more emotional anguish that i can handle and i fear i am shutting down completely. being isolated like this, from friends and family, it can drive a girl batty.

i’m choking back tears as i type. and i’ve no one to blame but myself. the weight thing came back to kick my ass yesterday, and kick me in the chin, punch me in throat and box my ears. at one point i’d decided to call the whole fucking mess off. fuck it, i said, i’ll ovulate them all out anyway, right? it took quite a bit of convinving after that and then i had to go into surgery with people i don’t like and don’t trust. it’s too devestating for words.

hopefully, i’ll prove them all wrong. hopefully i’ll get pregnant with a beautiful baby, have a healthy pregnancy and easy birth. i hope hope hope those thoughts keep me from going over to the dark side. because i’m close, very very close.

- kathy griffin, my life on the D list…if i were a little comedienne i’d want to grow up to be just like her!

- adrian brody and wes anderson teaming up for “the darjeeling limited”

- the cheap alcohol wipes at target - they’re soft and full of antiseptic goodness

- “back to the house at pooh corner” - this little ditty is on a lullabye CD of boo’s, it’s trumping out “rock-a-bye piglet” tout suite.

- elmo band-aids - boo is at the age of scrapes and cuts, and im coming to believe that elmo is a panacea for everyone under the age of three.

- perscription pain killers - yeah i’m stealing them from family members - wanna fight about it?

- cutting paper - i am/was foolish enough to make boo’s birthday party invitation myself and am working on invites to psycho jen’s couples baby shower for her coupla babies. there is just such a….definitiveness about a small razor meeting paper, things will never be the same again.

- harry potter, yeah i know, i sound lame, but come on! the LAST book AND a movie? what more do you want? semi-naked pictures of harry potter? oh wait….hmmm…i wonder if that pleasure path is on the marauder’s map. doubt it. 17 year old boys are still considered jail bait right? right.

- and finally being able to have the windows open again….mmmm…air!

to anyone who thinks that your ovaries dry up at the age of thirty - i say, tune in to nancy grace. at 48, which is almost 50, she’s pregnant with twins.

so psycho jen and nancy grace have something in common.

while baby/dog sitting for sweet little Eiffel, Wapa and LT’s dog - she snapped her ACL. we are pretty sure that it happened on sunday, but with goofy labs, how can you tell? she wasn’t putting any weight on it, so i made the decision to wait 24 hours before i brought her into her vet. he confirmed the torn ACL and i’m just sick about it.

Wapa and LT are hiking in oregon and i’ve been leaving messages on Wapa’s cell, but i don’t think he’s got coverage in the tetons.
the vet gave me pain medication for her and she’s goes back for x-rays on friday. i can’t believe that this happened on my watch. out of the 100 times that we’ve watched ‘lil Eif, nothing has gone wrong, out of the 30 times we’ve taken her to the cabin, nothing has happened - the law of averages states….it was only a matter of time.

i just wish there was more that i could do. the vet says that the damage has already been done, so there really isn’t anything we can do, and the only way to repair the damage is through surgery. and while i was totally willing to schedule and pay for surgery (which is totally what i would do for my dog) i guess the vet wants to wait for Wapa. whatever!

the good thing is, she’s not in pain, the great thing is is that she’s still her cute little self. she and the coop-a-doop (my dog) have been playing with each other while lying down - Coop knows she’s limited. i just am dreading Wapa getting my messages, the anxiety he’s going to feel, the helplessness. gah! douple, triple, holy shit!