I'm Growing a Human

So, funny story.

Joe and I quit trying to have a baby sometime during last year since it didn’t seem to be working out too well. Add to that the fact that my PCOS seems to not really ever give me a clear picture of when I’m going to have my period or when my period is actually happening, since it can start and stop over the course of a few weeks, just in time to start again, and you can see why we are sort of, no, really surprised to find that we’re expecting a human in about 7 months.

Are you ready for the cliché moment?
I thought I had some kind of bug that was going around.

But one night, after being sick on and off for about two weeks, we went out with a friend and my glass of wine tasted weird. And then the next morning, when my stomach wasn’t really upset and I should have been able to eat breakfast fine, the coffee made me want to hurl. And then I was suspicious. Because, dude. I like wine and coffee.

I took a home pregnancy test. And then I did 5 more, different brands, because I kept not believing it and thought that somehow, I was getting all the broken ones and the next one, the REAL one, would tell me I wasn’t. But it didn’t happen.

Last week, I was spotting and having lower backaches, which historically for me has been a sign of impending miscarriage. But by Thursday, that was all gone and in it’s place is this completely irrational emotional behavior, which I guess was rearing it’s ugly head as early as last weekend when I freaked out over the BBQ. It went something like this:

Me: Devon, we need eggs! Go get some eggs!
The world as we know it will end if I don’t have eggs to make potato salad!

Joe: Dev says he has to finish putting together the BBQ so he doesn’t want to go.
Why are my wife’s eyes so wide open? Is that foam on the side of her mouth?

Me: But I need eggs!
Why aren’t you offering to go get the eggs? Don’t you love me??

Joe: Well, what do you need the eggs for?
uuuuuuhhhhh?

Me: What do mean? I want to make potato salad!
How dare you ask me what I need eggs for?? I NEED EGGS!!!

Joe: *sigh* I guess I could go.
*SIIIIIIIGHHHHHHHH*

Me: You know what? Forget it! I don’t need eggs. I just won’t make potato salad.
OH REALLY???? Oh, no you won’t. Not with that attitude, mister!

Joe: Seriously, I’ll go get some eggs.
Dude.

Me: NO! I don’t want eggs! It doesn’t matter!
Why are you trying to force me make potato salad?? Why do you hate me and treat me like a slave?

Joe: Leah. I have no idea what I’m supposed to do here. Do you want me to go buy the eggs or not?
Who is this woman?

Me: I can’t believe you are asking me that! I can’t BELIEVE you don’t know what I want you to do!!!
He will never understand me! Our marriage is over!

Joe: Um…..I’m going to go upstairs for a minute.
I need space away from this demon woman.

Me: Oh, fine! Ok, kids. I guess we have to have our BBQ without Joe!
He hates me!

Even as the hyper-ridiculous verbiage was spewing out of my mouth, I knew it was dumb and making no sense! But my mouth – she just kept going. Joe came back downstairs in 3 minutes and helped the kids who were cowering in the corner to escape the room unnoticed where they all asked him what had happened to their mother. Yes, that day was super cool.

I can’t eat enough watermelon and the smell of chives makes me want to hurl. And if the store doesn’t have my favorite kind of shampoo, I will cry. I’ll also cry when my favorite pair of jeans is in the washer and I can’t wear them. And when the cell phone commercial comes on because that is just so sweet. And if there is any program on any station on the television that includes anything remotely connected to babies.

But not when I allow the sandwich bread to become soggy. No, in that case, I’ll just laugh and laugh and laugh. Until you wish I would cry and knock it off.

I suppose we could still lose this baby. Neither of us would be surprised because it has happened twice in the past few years. But we’re trying to project Positivity.

It Was the Best of Times

ACT I

The day started out late.
I was impatiently waiting for what seemed like hours, but what was in fact, hours, for the kids to come home. They had been scheduled to arrive the previous night but the call of a sleepover was stronger than fresh sheets on their own beds. And me.
My consolation prize of at least getting to fix them a breakfast feast was quickly dashed when they did not show up early as promised. The oldest one called and re-promised their arrival very, very soon.
Three hours later, when all the afternoon plans I had made were no longer viable due to travel times, ending times and general time constraints, they rolled in, all smiles and happy to see me. All was forgiven.

ACT II

We watched movies for a bit and packed a picnic lunch of hoagie sandwiches, veggies and chips. Departing at 4:30 wasn’t the original plan, or even the third plan, but it worked. We got in the car and drove to Little Tokyo. First stop, Kinokuniya book store, where they carry things like little erasers that smell like peaches and the tiniest colored pencil set you’ve ever seen. Oh, yes, and lots of Manga.
Our last stop was the Hollywood Forever Cemetery where we were going to sit in the graveyard on blankets, watch an old movie and eat our delightful picnic.
When we drove to the gated entrance, I got out to ask the nice man if we were at the wrong gate since there didn’t seem to be any other cars lined up to go in. The very nice man told me in a very nice way that we had the wrong night and everyone else had come yesterday.

ACT III

We decided to not waste our evening. We’d go to Griffith Park and eat our picnic there. I mean, at least we still had our dinner. It wasn’t the end of the world by any means. Yes, my daughter was upset that she had worn her way-too-short jean skirt and leggings for nothing and my son kept asking if we could hurry up, turn around and head back for a movie at the Cineplex and another son was very upset not to sit on top of dead people for a few hours, but I knew all of them were team players and were actually going to have a lot of fun. Ahem.
We found the park fine and unloaded the picnic to the nearest table, which was in the shade and close to the bathrooms. Score! We set out the food and I passed everyone a sandwich.
So, here is a little tip from me to you. When you pack the sandwiches in the cooler and then add ice, the ice will melt. And if you haven’t made sure that the sandwiches are in a watertight environment, the sandwich bread is going to get soaked. Like, totally soaked. And then? No one wants to eat their sandwich. Including me.
One child, after lovingly sharing his feelings about the soggy bread, created a healthy, low-carb version of the sandwich by wrapping the lunchmeat in lettuce. We foster an innovative and creative environment wherever we go.
Most of us ate cucumber slices and carrots.
I don’t like BBQ flavored potato chips.
I laughed quite a bit throughout the picnic. It wasn’t all sane sounding.
All in all, the picnic was a success since we all hate bread, anyway. Not really. I love bread more than chocolate.

ACT IV

Day two. Let’s go, people! We only have one day left of this weekend! Let’s have some fun! NOW!
What? My yelling and freaking-out overall demeanor is not really helping to cultivate fun?
What? You’re scared of me? Why are you cowering in the corner?
Let’s get the BBQ started!
After Joe, Dev and Ty got the BBQ put together, (and here is a bonus tip: $17 BBQs might not be the best purchase. I’m just sayin’.) I was excited to cook up the hamburgers. Yes, excited. Suddenly, I wanted grilled hamburger more than anything else in the entire world. RRRrrrrorr! Meat!
But first, we had to light the briquettes without lighter fluid, since I forgot to buy some.
Unfortunately, no one knew how to do that. We tried many ways including rolled up corrugated cardboard, a saturation of Jack Daniels and when I wasn’t looking – gasoline courtesy of an impatient son who is now lucky to only be missing his arm hair. Who also happens to be in big trouble. (Those two things are not exclusive.)
After dousing the five-foot wall of flaming briquettes and then cleaning out the BBQ as much as we could, we tried again. This time, with store bought lighter fluid. Amazing difference.
Did you know that you are supposed to wait for about 45 minutes after the briquettes finish burning before they are hot enough to cook with? I vaguely remembered something about that. But in my carnivorous state, craving cow flesh as I was, my brain was not what it could have been, and I put the meat on immediately. Where is continued to be raw for 15 minutes. And then we took them inside and fried them on the stove in a pan in the kitchen. In the meantime, two of the kids had left to other commitments and missed out on the burgers. They missed out on the FUN! of being with ME!
I know, right?

EPILOGUE

I wish I had some really awesome finish to this story, but I don’t. We watched The Abyss and White Men Can’t Jump. I freaked out a few more times over completely dumb things. They all continue to forgive and love me.
I am the luckiest person in the whole world.

Sweet Nothings

Exhausted both mentally and physically to the point of forgetting my own phone number and how to put on my shoes, snuggling with Joe was high on my priority list when I got home. It wasn’t until tonight that we both had the time and quasi-energy at the same time to attempt a snuggle-fest. We spooned on the bed, content to be together, and the sweet nothings ensued.

Me: What are you thinking about?

Him: Upholstery.

I'm So Mad, I'm Laughing

I suck. I laugh at inconvenient times. Like when my husband is getting mad at me. But not strangers. Apparently, I only laugh when someone that I love and care about is getting angry at me and strangers? They can bugger off. I’ll return their looks and yells one for one and then somehow end up on top, walking away victoriously confident that I was just on the winning side of some serious hiney-spanking. This is, of course, if I can’t avoid the altercation all together. Which, I would seriously prefer since I promote LOVE, people, not hate.

But Joe and I have been going through our Stuff. Everyone has their Stuff and the past few months, it’s been our turn to empty out the closets and clean under the beds and ask serious questions like ‘When did I buy this shoe? I hate purple and anything made out of pleather.’ or ‘Are you sure you have to bring that up every time we talk about Frank Zappa?’ and ‘Why the hell do you always laugh when I’m getting mad at you?’ The answers are, respectively, 1. Never, I made that up for this illustration 2. YES and 3. I have no idea. None.

Can we just talk about appropriate responses for a minute?

Sad = Empathetic
Happy = Pleased
Excited = Excited
Angry = Giggling Listening and responding with ‘What I hear you saying is…..quickly followed by mind blowing make-up sex.

When someone is pouring out their innermost feelings about how they feel about you, your relationship and the future – not the best time to laugh. I have tried not to laugh, which has the same effect as when my parents asked me to say the prayer for dinner when I was eight. I started giggling and could not stop until I was sent out of the room. At which time, my parents would call ‘You can come back in now.’ and I would sit down at the table and immediately start to giggle again. And then I got grounded for two months.

I hate this even more than I hate that I have two really thick, black hairs that grow out of the bottom of my chin that require persistent plucking. I hate watching his eyes go from angry-at-me to hurt because I would SO prefer the angry-at-me.

I have found no plan to fix this. I would like to have a plan on the ready so this angry/laughing/me-bursting-into-tears-of-regret cycle can end.

My Teeth Done Falled Out

Do you ever have that dream* where your teeth fall out? It doesn’t hurt or anything and you don’t bleed but you suddenly spit a tooth out into your hand and go, ‘Hey! There’s my tooth.’

I’ve had that dream now and again over the years. The most recent time was a few months ago and it was in the middle of the day about an hour south of Las Vegas. Oh, and it wasn’t a dream. It was REAL LIFE. Oh yes. All it takes is a piece of red licorice and a loose crown for you to have your own fun time. I’ll set you up, if you want. Just give me a call. One second you’ll be playing travel-sized Battle Ship with your son (and kicking his butt, heh) and the next you are a brick-wall silent-type shell of your former self as suddenly, you feel a squarish, hard, tooth shaped object rolling around in the licorice. In your pause, your mind is saying, ‘Did I eat teeth? I don’t remember eating a tooth. Why does my licorice feel like a tooth?’ and things like ‘Am I bleeding? Nope. Huh. Is it a tooth?’ and then ‘Dude. I guess I’ll have to spit it out in my hand to see.’ So, I did. And it was a tooth. And I sat there, staring at this tooth in my hand for about a full two minutes before I realized that if it was in fact a tooth, which it was, and I wasn’t bleeding, which I wasn’t, and it didn’t hurt, which it didn’t, I had to be dreaming. Wow, that took a long time to figure out. And then Alexandra pushed me to the side of the seat to make more room for her and the DVD player and her elbow in my ribs spoke loud and clear. I WAS AWAKE.

If this happens again, I’m sure it won’t take me 7 years to figure out that it is my crown. Big whoop-de-do. My crown. Just keep your mouth shut and don’t drink or eat anything or allow any AIR to get on your stubby toothlet until you can grab some Fixodent or you will be SORRY. Because, remember when I said it didn’t hurt? That was before I blinked or sniffed or….sat still and thought thoughts and breathed. Because that all hurt. And then putting the crown back on with some cementy** stuff? Really painful for a really long time. And if you get the thought to gargle with some spicy mouthwash to cut down on the chance of any little germies, can I just say to you, with all that I am, don’t do it. Really. Bad. Idea.

*Dreams of having teeth fall out are said to sometimes represent we are afraid of losing parts of ourselves. I had dreams about teeth falling out off and on my entire life until I was integrated.

**And then Joe found me a less glorious version of this kit that contains a lot of things I didn’t need, which I carry around in my purse with me as if I was a virile young married guy on his honeymoon that wants to always be prepared in case he sees his wife.

Bathroom Banter

“You know, when I was younger, I ALWAYS pushed the paste from the bottom of the tube.”
“Like a compulsive toothpaste squeezer?”
“But now, look at this mangled and twisted tube. I just squeeze it from anywhere.”
“To what do you attribute this great change?”
“The Fear if God! Ask me again! Ask me again!”
“To what do you attribute this great change?”
“Cleeeeaaaan Livin’! Ask me -”
“To what do you attribute this great change?”
“Sloth! Oh, I’ve got more!”

New Ring

Joe bought this for me on the way back home from rural Utah. I quite like it. I’m very into milky Butterscotch Amber and odd colors of Turquoise, sometimes white or robin’s egg blue but the green of this stone really called to me.

new_ring

I wondered if it is Gaspeite or possibly Chrysoprase. Anyone know? It has tiny reddish/brown veins running around in it.

Joe

He’s feeling insecure and missing me. We are going through a rough patch. He keeps posting photos of me. In some of them I look a little weird. In this one, I look drunk or stoned but I wasn’t either. And in this one, my hair has grown to such large proportions that they kicked me out of Utah and then made me leave the country. Germany was glad to have me. I got a new guitar! And, look at Alex! And Tony! And Devon! (Where’s Tyler?)

Joe is a good guy. He’s really working on his Stuff. And Stuff is hard to work on. Whatever happens, he’s going to be more Joe than he’s ever been.

And, I love him.

Morning Interchange

“You keep touching my butt. That is like 4 times this morning.”

“Well, I like your butt. It’s so….nice and big and round.”

“Here’s a hint. Don’t tell your wife her butt is big and round.”

“What about the ‘nice’? I said ‘nice’, too!”

“But that is not what I hear. I hear BIG.”

“Hey, I like big butts and I can not lie.”

“I’m physically ill now. I’m gagging.”

“No. You’re laughing.”

True

“When they make the movie of our lives, they will never get that part right. They couldn’t. It was too great.”