Preschool: Why didn’t you people warn me?

Preschool: Why didn’t you people warn me?

Prek

I’ve been through a lot of crap in my life. Hard crap. Death, divorce, taxes. All of the things that could break a lesser woman, however, I had no idea what hard could be until Audrey started pre-K. See, I know my daughter. I know her sweet little heart, but I also know that one of the main reasons she is still alive is because she’s cute and she’s probably only cute to me because she’s mine. I know these things, I’m not trying to kid myself. So sending her off to someone who might not find her as cute as I do worries me, except for the fact that I know that legally they can’t kill her so that’s good, right?

I knew we would have some issues. I thought to call her teacher and give her a friendly warning but surprises are just so much fun. Audrey is “strong willed”(bossy) to put it nicely. She’s a leader, not a follower (again, bossy). She is vocal with a wide vocabulary and smart (bossy and a smart ass). Too smart sometimes while not being afraid to call you out. In fact, the other day I told my husband that I SWORE she gives me the “get it together, mom” look. Seriously, she does. In her defense, I often do need to get it together.

On the first day we had a long talk on the way to school about behavior and making good choices. I thought we were clear. That day upon pickup, a very sweet looking (and young, very very young) Miss Johnson pulled me aside and said “We had a tough day today.” Seems Audrey decided sharing was for amateurs, so was listening, cleaning, and pretty much anything else. Also, sand in the shoes. CRISIS! Crying melt down. Hysterics. And… Scene.

Day two: Wash rinse repeat.

Day three we had a breakthrough. I decided to have a long talk with Miss Johnson about ways we could mutually team up to defeat the thumb-sucking dictator and reign supreme. I shared with her some ways that we work through issues and crying at home and implemented a sticker system to be done at home. You call it bribery, I call it winning. To-may-to, to-mah-to.

Chart

The deal was that if Miss Johnson said Audrey had a good day at school she would get a sticker for her chart at home. After 8 stickers she could pick a prize. Not surprisingly she choose a stuffed Parasaurolophus. I know right? Who wouldn’t?

Several great days followed. She was like a new kid! Then we had a bad day. Audrey again decided cleaning up the toys was for the staff and refused by staging a sit-in under her desk and crying. Later that day she didn’t get picked to do some job (oh NOW you want to help?) and this time chose to crawl under Miss Johnson’s desk. When they politely tried to pry her from her den she hit the teacher’s aide in the arm.

A few more good days….

And then…the day from hell.

Oh this particular day I walked in for pickup to see a haggard looking Miss Johnson who clearly looked in need of a stiff cocktail. She started off by saying, “Now I want to just say that everyone’s child has had a day today. All of them. ALL. OF. THEM. However…”

And this is where it gets interesting. So apparently Audrey got a little tired during Circle Time and decided a nap on the classroom kiddie sofa was in order. At this point, judging from the new grey hairs on Miss Johnson’s very young head (she’s got to be 25, tops), I could only imagine that she could have cared less about the impromptu nap time. Except, of course, Audrey took it a step further when every time she spoke (you know since she was TEACHING and all), Audrey would loudly yell, and yes, this is a direct honest-to-God quote, “WOULD YOU PLEASE KEEP IT DOWN, I’M TRYING TO SLEEP HERE!” 

I definitely didn’t plan this whole pregnancy thing out so well, timing wise, with the whole preschool thing because I don’t think I’ve ever needed a cocktail so bad in my life.

Cheers to you, Miss Johnson. Somebody get this girl a shot of vodka and a cookie…after hours, of course.

PS, can we talk, just briefly, about drop off. What the hell is the deal with school drop off? The first day of school I drove the wrong way down the drop off lines. Yes, I was that mom with my husband following behind me, completely mortified and cursing in way I’m sure would make a sailor blush. You would have thought I was clubbing a baby seal or letting Audrey mainline crack in her car seat! I’m new here people! Pre-k mom coming through! Drop off is like a well choreographed minivan ballet where nobody invited me to practice.  Drop off scares me. Whatever Minivan Mafia, I’ll park and walk. I like the exercise, it’s only 106 out.

 

It’s a…

It’s a…

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Yesterday afternoon I was off to yet another doctors appointment because that’s what you do when you’re old and you’re pregnant. Old pregnant ladies go to lots of doctors appointments. In fact, I’ve had 3 ultrasounds and I’m only 12 weeks (as of today). This is the most photographed fetus in town. The Kim Kardashian of fetuses, if you will.

However this was a special ultrasound in that it was my NT (Nuchal Translucency) which is the test for Downs. People have asked why I agreed to take the test when my doctor recommended it to me. Well, first off, we would never terminate. Ever. But my doctor had a great point when she said she doesn’t offer the test so that you have an out, but so that you are prepared in delivery. So that if there are any other issues you will already have doctors lined up to be in delivery, therapists, supportive friends and family. And I 100% agree with all of that. See, I am a planner. A scheduler. I don’t buy a vacuum without 3 weeks of intense research, I’m not about to bring another person into this world without having done everything I could to make sure they have the best possible care from minute one.

Well, one of the happy side effects of this test is that if the baby is cooperative and you have a very nice ultrasound tech there is a good chance you will get the gender of your baby which is the one thing most people can’t wait to get. And I  knew all this because, duh, Google. I was prepared. I took with me the sweetest little card and before I even sat down on the table I explained to the lady that I knew what was up and asked that if possible and if she didn’t mind would she write it down on the card so I could open it with my husband.

She explained to me that often they aren’t able to accurately get gender but she would try….and off we went.

Now in my heart I knew it was a boy. When pregnant with Audrey all I wanted was donuts, Lucky Charms and peanut better and jelly. With this kid I am all Mexican food and baked potatoes. I popped out right away, had hardly any morning sickness and pretty much no heartburn (yet). It HAS got to be a boy! I HAVE BEDDING PICKED OUT!

I know it. I feel it. MOTHER’S INTUITION!

At the end of our appointment she says “Got it.” Yay!

The husband and I race home to open it together….

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Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me. Yup. It’s a girl.

Upon hearing the news I froze in stunned silence. Audrey, who has decided she doesn’t want a brother because she doesn’t like the boys at school, said “YES!” with a very dramatic fist pump. And my husband leaned up against a wall just long enough to build up enough energy to start pacing the kitchen.

It took us a minute to digest and that’s normal right? You convince yourself things are one way and then they are another. It’s shocking. Am I slightly disappointed? Yes, I will say that I have been a little bummed, I mean everything I had picked out was for a boy. I had my heart set on teeny tiny ties.

Last night I spent the majority of the night online making a Pinterest board full all new bedding and room ideas. Back to square one. Slowly I started to see my attitude change. I felt myself getting excited about ruffles and bows and hardly missing the adorable navy blue whales.

However, one thing will stay the same…

NO FLIPPIN’ PINK.

 

 

Yup, that just happened.

I was just looking over my sad, lonely little blog and noticing that the last time I posted was back in April. Hello? Is anyone still there? Diehards? My mom? There is a reason though. A reason why I haven’t shared all the wonderful moments from Audrey’s birthday in March where we took her to Disneyland for the first time and basically used her college fund to pay for Character Breakfast. And why there are no photos of her looking for Easter eggs with her cousins, and why you have yet to see, and hear, about her first day of pre-school.

I was in a funk.

Yes, again.

BUT, it get’s better.

Back in September of last year we were referred to a fertility clinic here in Arizona by my sweet doctor who had done all she can. This was our next step. I was nervous and I put it off as long as I could as I always said I wasn’t going to strap my family with a financial burden for something technically unnecessary and un-guaranteed. But here we were, creeping up on 37 and a half and not getting any younger. It was time to take the plunge.

In mid April I went in for an HSG (Hysterosalpingogram) and I was scared to death. I, of course like any rational person with an internet connection, went online and searched for How painful is an HSG? Answer: very. Essentially what happens is you lie down on a very hard, very cold table, naked as the day you were born from the waist down, and try not to move…or breathe. This is very hard to do when someone is man-handling your sensitive bits with some sort of cold solution. You ever see people sand blasting a sidewalk? Now scale that down to very tiny and inside your vagina. It’s like THAT.

What they are looking for is a reason why you are not getting pregnant, they are looking for blockages of tissue. However, this treatment is not only diagnostic in terms of finding whats wrong but it’s also therapeutic in that if there is a blockage the act of looking for said blockage usually tends to knock it out. Like a BOGO sale. Buy one, get one.

If you are planning on doing this my advice to you is: one whole Xanax and 4 Advil. But that’s just me and I’m not a doctor. In fact, don’t listen to me at all.

Now I have heard story after story of people successfully getting pregnant after this procedure, as soon as days after. Becasue of this it was back on the clomid. The first month was unsuccessful and I know it was just the first month but I was back to being discouraged. Throughout all this I was also wondering how much more my marriage could take. Maybe this is something that most people don’t talk about when discussing infertility but its so painfully hard on your marriage. You’re not happy, you’re obsessed, you’re stressed, your partner feels this. I think in some ways my husband felt at fault and just as guilty as I did. Then there’s the on demand sex. Oh yes, you’re tired, you’re grumpy, you’re bloated from the clomid, let’s get naked. 

Uh, no. Let’s not.

Then you argue. Then you feel undesirable. Then you feel demanding and rigid and unreasonable.

Infertility is as awful place to be for everyone. This is supposed to be fun right? You start to feel…unwomanly. For lack of a better term, defective.

Month 2, post HSG, back on the clomid, calendar is marked with doctor appointments and little hearts where we should be doing it but this time they added shots. I went in for a sonogram to make sure the clomid was working and there was a big fat egg just waiting. The shots were to release the egg and then we wait…again.

On Father’s Day I took a pregnancy test…

Well, now that the cats out of the bag I can regale you with stories about morning sickness and panic attacks. All fun stuff so stay tuned…

It’s Take Your Kid To Work Day! A #TBT Story

It’s Take Your Kid To Work Day! A #TBT Story

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Photo credit: Huffington Post

When I was about 4 or 5 (the age my daughter is now) my dad took me to work with him for one day during my Christmas break from school. It’s something I will never forget because it forever changed how I perceived my dad, as a person.

At that age I remember thinking that my dad was the tallest, strongest and smartest person on the planet. Literally. Like literally there was nobody who surpassed his height, nobody who could lift as much as he could and nobody who could possibly know as much stuff as he knew. Superman.

I was also the little jerk on the playground who would share this information with the other kids in a “my Dad is better than your dad” kind of way. That same year I got in trouble for telling everyone there was no Santa Clause making a room full of five-year-olds cry. Telling people the hard truth seemed to be my thing from an early age.

Then, on that one day in December, I distinctly remember leaving my dad’s office. He put me in the car only he had forgotten something and had to run back inside leaving me to wait. (Back then it was okay to leave your small child in the car alone. Seat belts were also only a suggestion. I’m not sure how we all survived.) A few minutes later my dad returned, a smile on his face as he happily chatted away with a very nice co-worker of his who happened to be about fifteen (exaggerated) feet tall.

*Boom*

What the what? How can that BE?

The whole thing was all very movie-esque as you would expect. The ground was wet from the rain and the whole thing seemed to happen in slow motion. Seems I was a dramatic child from a very young age.

If that guy is taller than my dad then maybe he is NOT the tallest man ever. And if he’s not the tallest than he may not be the strongest…and what about the smartest?!?!

My 4-ish years on the planet were a lie.

I laugh about it now and it’s a funny story to tell but I remember being so upset about it at the time.

Now although my dad is tall, strong and smart he is none of these to the extent that I would take on a kindergardener to prove my point but he’s those things enough and then some.

So on this Take Your Son or Daughter To Work Day I hope you get an opportunity to show your child what it is you do all day to make their life as great as it is while, hopefully, not irreparably scarring them for the rest of their lives. Otherwise known as Thursday in my house.

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Photo credit: Someecards.com

 

PS, I’m in totally catch-up mode with the blog right now. But trust me, you don’t want to miss what’s coming up about our first trip to Disneyland, Audrey’s birthday and that one time my husband found Audrey petting a dead mouse. Stay tuned…

 

 

Trying to make people: The OVACUE how-to!

Trying to make people: The OVACUE how-to!

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Almost two years ago we started on the journey towards having another child, and like most people, we thought it would be a snap. All we would need to do was to actively stop trying to not have a baby and we would be set. Wham, bam, thank you ma’am, here you go. But yet, two years later we are still baby free.

It seems, despite what every Trojan commercial and MTV says, it it quite difficult to get pregnant…well for me and my 37 year old ovaries it is. Seriously, I got nothing. My uterus is like a seashell but instead of hearing the ocean you put your ear up to my belly and hear crickets. But apparently there is a science to all this and it’s all about timing. Before I had no idea when I was supposed to ovulate, just that I did. Now, like every other woman in my situation, I could teach a class on the female reproductive system and cycle. Let me put it to you this way, if there were a Jeopardy catagory about cervical mucus, I would own that shit.

As you know (or if you haven’t been keeping up- are about to find out) we had a miscarriage back in August of 2012. After that terrible ordeal we enlisted the help of some awesome OB-GYNs to see if there was an issue and to pretty much do everything short of enlisting the aid of a proper fertility doctor (though not completely off the table yet). This past fall I had to stop. No more blood draws, no more clomid, no more almost weekly doctors appointments. It was time to try a more natural approach by way of learning my cycle and charting my days…and then I was introduced to OvaCue.

My OvaCue Betterhalfblogs

 This, my friends, is my OvaCue Fertility Monitor (snazzy pink polka-dotted carrying case not included). This little thing will change how you go through the process of trying to conceive. In short, OvaCue, through daily monitoring of the electrolyte levels in your saliva, will tell you the exact date of expected ovulation with a 98.3%  accuracy. AND if you are using the vaginal wand in addition to the oral monitor  you will get confirmation that you did ovulate. This is my favorite part, for some reason, it’s the same satisfaction that checking an item off your to-do list has…if you’re a wierdo awesome Type A like me.

So what does my typical day with OvaCue look like? Easy peasy. The only thing that ever is an issue is that I am in no way, not even a little bit, a morning person and you have to do the oral test before you brush your teeth or take your first sip of coffee. I have been known to forget to do it every now and then although I find that setting it next to my toothbrush helps to make sure I see it in the morning. And on setup day…well the brain isn’t always there. Setup day is what I call the day that I start using my monitor for the month, ideally this would be day 2 of your cycle but Ovacue says just by day 4 at the latest.

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This is my monitor when I set it up for the month just the other day. As you can see I am on a 30 day cycle and I started monitoring on day 3.

Ovacue Testing BetterHalfBlogs

And this sexy beast is me (sorry to disappoint all the eligible bachelors out there reading my parenting blog, but I’m taken). All you do to test it hit the “O” for oral (duh) and follow directions. It sits in your mouth for all of about 3-5 seconds and you’re done.

OvaCue Today BetterHalfBlogs

So here is my read out for day 3 of my cycle on February 10th…not fertile. And off I am to go about the rest of my day. It doesn’t get any easier than that. I do this every morning until I get ovulation confirmation. If you plan on doing vaginal monitoring (which I HIGHLY recommend) you start that on day 8 of your cycle. I do this when I go into my room, after coffee, while I’m changing into my clothes for the day or jumping in the shower. Just like the oral testing, you hit “V” for vaginal, follow directions and insert the wand for all of about 3-5 seconds and you’re done. Please forgive me if I don’t post photos of that…it’s not that kind of blog but you can see a photo of my wand in the first photo in this post.

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To give you an idea what an entire month looks like here is October in my monitor. It’s a little tough to see the difference in color but there is a slight difference between September 30th and October 1st, this tells me my chances of getting pregnant if I have intercourse on that day is slightly higher. Then come October 5th, you can clearly see it’s a darker blue which means it’s go time baby. The darkest blue on October 8th is my highest day and then October 9th turns pink which tells me that I did ovulate. After my pink day I stop testing till the next cycle.

There you have it! Like I said, easy peasy.

And if I can take a moment to talk to all the ladies out there who are where I am right now, and if you’re finally at the bottom of this long ass post I’m assuming you are. This isn’t the miracle that’s going to guarantee you a baby, it’s not how it works. What it is is another option in a world where there seems to not be enough options. I did the pee sticks, and while it was nice to get my ovulation narrowed down to a week, this blows that out of the water. Who wants to pee on a stick everyday? And I’m sorry, but lets be honest here, I am a busy, often exhausted woman so telling me around when I should be “doing it” with my husband is not good enough. I want to know exactly when I should be having sex, the. exact. day. I don’t have time or energy for anything else.

If you are interested in getting more information please check out OvaCue’s website for any information you may need and to see the range of other things that come in handy when you’re #TTC including basal thermometers and pee sticks along with a wide array of vitamin supplements and prenatals for both men and women to help with your getting knocked-up needs. (I was sent the prenatals and vitamins but I am super sensitive to any sort of medication so I can’t talk about those with any sort of intelligence. Sorry.) AND!! If you enter the coupon code BETTERHALFMOMMY you will get 10% off your order!

Disclosure and message: I was sent the monitor and supplements for the purpose of doing this review back in the fall. (Yes, I realize it’s now February and I’m barely getting to the actual review but I am nothing if not prompt.)  In the past 3 years I have worked with plenty of companies both in and out of the blogging world and I have to say that Fairhaven Health is, and has been, the best company I have ever been connected to. This type of thing is not like a vacuum or baby walker that you can say “this works” or “this doesn’t”, there are emotions and heart attached to the overall purpose of this product. So, I would like to say a huge THANK YOU to Fairhaven Health, especially Sarah (my contact person) for being so understanding, supportive and patient. In a world full of corporations where the customer is just a number or a nuisance, who doesn’t want to support a company with excellent customer service and care?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Three years ago I hit publish for the first time…

Three years ago today on December 12th 2010 I hit “publish” for the very first time. It’s weird to think that, much less say it out loud.

Three years ago I just wanted to have a conversation with someone who’s butt I didn’t have to wipe in the next hour. It never occurred to me that some of those familiar names on my screen would become great personal friends and professional advocates IRL.

Three years ago I was excited to have a place to share my own hard discovered parental lifehacks. Never in my wildest dreams did I think that this personal internet space of mine would lead me to wonderful places like SheKnows.com, the front page of AOL and now a pretty cushy spot at WhatToExpect.com.

I used this blog as a way to sort through my pain after my miscarriage and it continues to be a place of refuge for me as we deal with continued failed attempts at getting pregnant.

Three years ago today I discovered I had a voice I never knew was there. And while I tease that the only people that actually read my posts are my mother-in-law, my mom and I, I know this is far from the truth (my mom never actually reads my blog).

So thank you to everyone out there who have so graciously given me a minute or two or your busy day. To all who have taken the time to comment a bit of encouragement or commiseration. To all who have been so kind as to never point out the fact that I have no idea what the difference between “:” and “;” is.

To all of you I say Thank You.

Cheers.

 

 

 

Trying to make people: Part Ugh

(Ed. note: I’m venting here. Just roll with it.)

I started writing this post about two months ago. It was dark and ugly and, well, I should have just posted it because sometimes that’s the truth behind the feelings you get when you try (and fail) at getting pregnant. Part of me really did want to hit publish but after rereading it all seemed so jumbled, like the ramblings of the lady that hangs outside 7-11 or a toddler after a donut.

I guess I needed more time to get my head together.

Around that time I had six friends- SIX!- give birth over a 2 week period. No lie. SIX! How does that even happen? Then 2 weeks after that 3 more announced they were pregnant on facebook. That night I told the handsome other half that these 3 friends of mine were expecting and his response was “I’m sorry honey” and suddenly I was that girl. 

I decided I needed a time out. A cease fire on my emotional well being. I took the month off. Like I took off everything having to do with babies (for the most part considering I still kept Audrey alive and never used the old headache trick). I packed away my OvaCue Fertility Monitor, no testing, no temps, no cervical mucus monitoring (eww), no calendars, no little hearts drawn around the expected date of ovulation on said calendar, no subsequent waiting and thinking every ache could be implantation pain… None. Of. It.

I feel like I’ve been pretty careful not to come off as a giant ungrateful “B”, and unless you follow me on Facebook, you would hardly even know all this is going on, but in my head, ugh, it’s not pretty sometimes and I am definitely not proud. It’s really hard sometimes to not feel alone, regardless of super supportive family members and a husband willing to do whatever you need him to. It’s hard not to feel like you’re the only barren womb on the block with all the bellies and babies everywhere you go. What I wouldn’t give to be exhausted with vomit on my shirt.

Recently I came across a post by Amy from Carriage Before Marriage on Huffington Post where she so accurately describes the everyday aches and pains of Secondary Infertility. The wanting to give your child the best gift in the world; a sibling- and failing. The baby shit all over your house that is crowding up your precious storage space and yet you refuse to give it up. (Seriously, don’t touch my crib.) And the guilt over being so sad regardless of the precious little person you already have. It was the most spot on piece I have ever read regarding this crapity situation and I highly recommend you reading it because I don’t do it justice and it’s better written than the nonsense you’re reading now.

I know this feeling is just a phase because this is not like me. I am the one that annoys the crap out of my husband because of my ‘it could be worse!’ attitude, just ask him. I know it’s just the holidays and the fact that I’ve researched a million adorable ways to announce you’re expecting at Christmas (Christmas card! How freaking cute is that?). And I know that God has a plan for me and my family. Everything in His time and all that.

My head knows all of this, just please explain it to my heart.

(PS, I am back on the fertility monitoring phase so stay tuned for the next edition of Trying To Make People where I show step-by-step how to use this handy little device.

 

Who?

Who?

What is it with husbands (and men in general) not being physically able to capture and comprehend to what we say? I mean, I thought for awhile it was just my husband or that what I was saying wasn’t as interesting as whatever was going on inside his pretty little head but apparently it’s become an epidemic among male spouses that needs to be addressed.

Better Half Blogs Marriage

It came to my attention recently in a Geico commercial that was all too familiar to me. You know the one. Two owls are having a conversation. The lady owl says something to the man owl about her friend from work and all he says is “Who?”. She reminds him of her friend whom she has apparenrly mentioned a million times before (as per usual) and he responds once again with “Who?”. At that point she looks like she a third “who” away from punting him out of her tree.

I feel you, kindred owl spirit.

I don’t even get it though. I hear everything. I hear crap I wish I hadn’t heard. Not only that, I remember even more. I can also make dinner, discipline the child, feed the dogs and still recall everything about the conversation had while doing all of this about the topic I could have really cared less about.

It’s called LOVE people. Love and apparently a uterus because I have yet to meet a man, or a woman with a man, who can replicate this incredible feat. Just reading that makes me feel the need to wear a cape on a daily basis.

I have learned to adjust to this shortcoming in my life mate. If he has anything in his hand from his iPhone to an actual apple, I just don’t do it. If he has just walked in the door, I bide my time. If he is watching TV, especially any sport having to do with any of the three major balls (ie. foot, base, or soccer), it’s a no-go on the hi-yo.

Timing is everything people.

But it’s good to know that I’m not alone. Just being aware that I am part of a larger more ignored community makes me feel somehow less stabby.

And I would tell my husband about my new found understanding but chances are he wouldn’t hear me anyway.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lesson of the week: When parenting sucks, suck it up

Lesson of the week: When parenting sucks, suck it up

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There really is nothing worse than having a sick child, really nothing. They hurt, cry and beg you to help them make it go away and all you can really do is comfort them until it gets better. We are lucky in that Audrey is probably one of the heartiest and healthiest kids around. I attribute this boost in immunity to the fact that she sucks her (often disgusting) thumb. Although I always have sanitizer on hand I rarely make it to her (while running and screaming in a slow-motion NOOO!!!) before the thumb goes from the grocery store cart straight into the mouth.

Bleah.

Whatever the reason, we are always thankful of the fact that she has, at worst, had a mild cold in the 3 and half years on this planet… that is, until now.

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So here we are, day six on sick kid watch and I. Am. Over. It. I know I’m a jerk for complaining when she is the one who is sick (poor thing) but indulge me for a second, I’m tired. Since the onset of the plague I have moved from my bed to the guest room so that I can comfort her around the clock like a good mom. When she in not literally lying on me, which is how she has spent the majority of the last 5 days, she will be lying in my bed  bogarting my iPad and Netflix account.

In the past few days I have been summoned across the house for things like “I have burgers (boogers)”, “my show is over”, “I don’t like this show anymore”, “or this one”, “this one neither” (not being able to find something to watch has been an annoying theme), and “I’m lying down”. This is not “I need to lie down” or “I am having trouble lying down” but that she is physically in the horizontal position and just wanted to let me know.

But my personal favorite was when I did a mad sprint across the house to a crying child thinking a limb had spontaneously flew off her body only to hear, “Can you hand me my juice please?” The juice in question was six inches away from her.

Tylenol, Motrin & iPad

Tylenol, Motrin & iPad

As of now we are on the mend and the plague turned out to be croup.

I may complain to you (and my poor husband) but I would never let her know that. I may be at my wits end but I will always be there with a tissue (or my sleeve) ready and available. I may be blind with exhaustion but there will be a pep in my step when I come’a runnin with her juice…again for the 70 billionth time. And I will always always always make time in my schedule for snuggling.

Even if that does mean I will be next on the plagues hit list.

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Trying to make people with OvaCue: Part 1

My title says “part one” but if you’ve been following the story, there have been many parts before this. This is just where I start the first part of this part of the journey and, in turn, share it with you.

I have started many a blog post by saying “parenting is hard” but now I’m going to change my tune and say “making people to parent is hard”, because it is, despite what that chick with 19 kids has to say. Even before Audrey had turned 2 we started the conversation about having another child but I had worried about having them too close in age as I value my sanity and sleep, so we waited. Two days after Audrey turned two, in March 2012, I was at my OB/GYN “pulling the goalie” and away we went.

It didn’t take long to see the fruits of our labor as we found ourselves staring at 2 blue lines in June that same year. But our joy was to be cut short by a miscarriage and D&C that August. Since then I have gone month after month staring at negative pregnancy tests. Then at the beginning of this year I finally consulted my doctor about going on Clomid, a popularly prescribed fertility drug. My doctor agreed that this would be a good route for us to try, however, due to my age (36! Where’s my mobility scooter?!), they would only be giving me 2 months. Those months came and went and I fought for more, which was granted. (I can be pretty convincing, just ask DirecTV.) More months came and went, with the same sad result.

In the mean time, I did everything I was supposed to do; I drank lots of water, took my vitamins, carefully charted my cycle with pinpoint accuracy, allowed the doctor to essentially drain me dry of blood every month for testing purposes and forced my husband to adhere to a very strict, ahem, “private time” schedule. (If the words “timed intercourse” doesn’t get you all hot and bothered, then I’m sorry but nothing will.) Then there was the time I had to take Audrey with me to have an INTERNAL sonogram. I don’t recommend that.

Now here we are, a year and a half later, with nothing to show for it except for about 7 extra pounds (thanks Clomid) and more knowledge about cervical mucus than should be allowed. But I’m not done, and I’m not giving up either. We decided a long time ago that if it comes to the IUI or IVF, we would just hang up the towel. I don’t think I’m ready to put my family through that, emotionally or financially, or my body as I was already a commercial-crying basket case from the crap I was on.

So now on to this part. I have opted to forego anymore fertility drugs, or the start of any treatments, and try a more natural approach. I have teamed up with OvaCue, a company that makes a wonderful top-of-the-line electronic fertility monitor, in hopes of conceiving the more natural way. Along the journey I will blog about how it’s going and what I generally think about the process. (If you have specific questions, please message me and I will be sure to address them in my follow-ups.)

I get it, I’m not the spring chicken I once was but Hello! Halle Berry! I can’t be the only one over 35 who is wanting to have another child without putting their family in debt. So here’s to us; the crusty, the dusty, and the not-yet-ready-to-be-put-out-to-pasture. Let’s do this!

Cheers.