Why my life sucks right now...
As I was doing sit ups this morning, I noticed that each time I sat up, some weird alien like protrusion was poking through my belly... right at the site of one of the incisions from my recent appendectomy. Fast forward to now... post conversation with nurse-friend and hours of extensive google research... and I believe I have an incisional hernia.
Fucking great.
Most likely, this hernia was caused by me not allowing enough time for my incisions to heal before picking up my then 18 month old daughter. Because we all know that all you have to do is tell an 18 month old 'no' and they totally get it. So the sutures popped open and now my bowels are trying to poke through my stomach. Great. And sexy too.
Of course surgery sucks for anyone, I know this thankyouverymuch. So why is it extra sucktastic in my eyes? Well, so glad you asked!
First of all, this is all going to go down while my husband is on vacation. Which means the few weeks the three of us were going to spend some lovely quality time together as a family, the few weeks I have been looking forward to all year, the few weeks we were going to spend taking our daughter to all of the fabulous places the bay area has to offer since she is now old enough to enjoy them, are going to instead be spent by me recovering from the stupid surgery that didn't necessarily ever need to happen.
And getting pregnant? Well I guess we can scrap that idea for at least a month. Maybe more. Fucking awesome.
And just to make sure this experience is especially crapalicious, two days ago my parents offered to pay for plane tickets for me and Baby to visit them in Florida before I possibly have to start work again this coming fall. How nice would that be? A $free$ trip to Florida to hang out with my parents who will essentially spoil and entertain my daughter for a week or so while I am lounging by the pool, reading trashy celebrity magazines and sunning my muffin top. Well, I guess I won't fucking find out how nice that would be since it isn't going to fucking happen now. Did I mention I even found an affordable direct flight from NoCal to Florida? Yeah, that won't happen again any time this century.
Not in a good mood right now.
Monday, July 13, 2009
Friday, July 10, 2009
Random Thoughts, aka Pearl Can Fart Too
I thought I would join in on the Blog Fart Fridays fun since I was like Jaci's first reader ever (She totally had me at her letter to Stouffers). Plus if Mama Bee is going to do it, it must be cool.
So here goes...
~Dear Husbands Out There: taking care of your child while your wife goes to the grocery store to buy the groceries needed to cook the weeks worth of meals that she planned and wrote out a grocery list for does not constitute a "break" for her. A pedicure? Yes. A Massage? Yes. Grocery shopping? No.
~I really need to come up with a better way to refer to my daughter on this blog. Currently, she is Baby and my husband is Husband. Not a lot of creativity there. And seeing that Baby will be two in less than a month, I can't really call her a baby much longer... especially if I am going to be having a baby soon. Too confusing. So, not a lot of foresight here either. I have about a bazillion nicknames for both of them in real life, so I guess I should just pick one for blogging purposes and stick to it.
~I worry about my child's obsession with television, specifically the Wonder Pets. And are these Wonder Pets psychologically damaging me as well since I find myself wishing Linny would tell Ming Ming to shut the fuck up every once in a while ? And am I contributing to her obsession by attempting to limit her television viewing? Should I just leave it on all day every day so she will get sick of it?
~I really wish we had a fucking dishwasher.
~I dont like sharing my food. I never have. I blame my parents, but that's another story. As all mothers know, you will be sharing your food with your child. Even if your child has just had a seven course meal and is so stuffed she can barely move, she will want some of whatever you are eating... especially if it is exactly the same thing she is eating or in any way different from what she is eating. I have come to terms with sharing food with my daughter and I am happy to do it. However, I draw the line at sharing a drink. Have you seen a toddler backwash? Ugh! It gives me the fucking heebie jeebies to see her drool/food backwash swirling around in the water as she is drinking. BLEH! So needless to say, if she wants a drink of my water, it just simply becomes her water.
So here goes...
~Dear Husbands Out There: taking care of your child while your wife goes to the grocery store to buy the groceries needed to cook the weeks worth of meals that she planned and wrote out a grocery list for does not constitute a "break" for her. A pedicure? Yes. A Massage? Yes. Grocery shopping? No.
~I really need to come up with a better way to refer to my daughter on this blog. Currently, she is Baby and my husband is Husband. Not a lot of creativity there. And seeing that Baby will be two in less than a month, I can't really call her a baby much longer... especially if I am going to be having a baby soon. Too confusing. So, not a lot of foresight here either. I have about a bazillion nicknames for both of them in real life, so I guess I should just pick one for blogging purposes and stick to it.
~I worry about my child's obsession with television, specifically the Wonder Pets. And are these Wonder Pets psychologically damaging me as well since I find myself wishing Linny would tell Ming Ming to shut the fuck up every once in a while ? And am I contributing to her obsession by attempting to limit her television viewing? Should I just leave it on all day every day so she will get sick of it?
~I really wish we had a fucking dishwasher.
~I dont like sharing my food. I never have. I blame my parents, but that's another story. As all mothers know, you will be sharing your food with your child. Even if your child has just had a seven course meal and is so stuffed she can barely move, she will want some of whatever you are eating... especially if it is exactly the same thing she is eating or in any way different from what she is eating. I have come to terms with sharing food with my daughter and I am happy to do it. However, I draw the line at sharing a drink. Have you seen a toddler backwash? Ugh! It gives me the fucking heebie jeebies to see her drool/food backwash swirling around in the water as she is drinking. BLEH! So needless to say, if she wants a drink of my water, it just simply becomes her water.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
It's a Big Day!
Oh wait, were you expecting something exciting? Well, sorry to dissappoint, I am probably the only one that would find the events of this morning exciting... possibly my husband.
Anyway, this marks the first morning of me recording my basal body temperature since getting pregnant with Baby (I really need to come up with a different blog-name for my daughter... suggestions?). For those of you who don't know what a basal body temperature is and/or why meticulously tracking it can be useful information (or give an obsessive neurotic control freak like myself a false sense of, uhm, control in the whole getting knocked up process), I don't have the time or energy to explain it.
And if I did, I would probably do a miserably inaccurate job. If you are interested, check out Taking Charge of Your Fertility by Toni Weschler. Sister gave me this book when we (we as in me and my husband, not me and Sister) started trying to get pregnant the first time and I think a better name for this book would be The Getting Knocked Up Rosetta Stone Slash Bible. In fact, I think every woman, trying to get knocked up or not, should read this book. I wish someone had given me a copy when I was about 15; it explains everything that goes on with your body regarding your cycle and demystifies much about the female body. But don't listen to me; go read the 1000+ five star reviews on Amazon. This is beginning to sound like a lead-in to a book give away, but there is no way in hell I am giving you my copy. Get your own. Technically it's not my copy anyway since Sister loaned it to me... about three years ago.
Anywaaaaaaaaaay, in a nutshell, tracking your temperature each morning gives you a good idea of when to do it if you want to get knocked up. So I finally figured out how to use my 'instant read' thermometer after not waiting the full minute (is a minute 'instant'? seems like a long time to me...) yesterday morning and screwing up the process, so here I am on cycle day three with the first dot on my chart. So here's to me and my line graph taking obsession to the next level! Hooray!
Anyway, this marks the first morning of me recording my basal body temperature since getting pregnant with Baby (I really need to come up with a different blog-name for my daughter... suggestions?). For those of you who don't know what a basal body temperature is and/or why meticulously tracking it can be useful information (or give an obsessive neurotic control freak like myself a false sense of, uhm, control in the whole getting knocked up process), I don't have the time or energy to explain it.
And if I did, I would probably do a miserably inaccurate job. If you are interested, check out Taking Charge of Your Fertility by Toni Weschler. Sister gave me this book when we (we as in me and my husband, not me and Sister) started trying to get pregnant the first time and I think a better name for this book would be The Getting Knocked Up Rosetta Stone Slash Bible. In fact, I think every woman, trying to get knocked up or not, should read this book. I wish someone had given me a copy when I was about 15; it explains everything that goes on with your body regarding your cycle and demystifies much about the female body. But don't listen to me; go read the 1000+ five star reviews on Amazon. This is beginning to sound like a lead-in to a book give away, but there is no way in hell I am giving you my copy. Get your own. Technically it's not my copy anyway since Sister loaned it to me... about three years ago.
Anywaaaaaaaaaay, in a nutshell, tracking your temperature each morning gives you a good idea of when to do it if you want to get knocked up. So I finally figured out how to use my 'instant read' thermometer after not waiting the full minute (is a minute 'instant'? seems like a long time to me...) yesterday morning and screwing up the process, so here I am on cycle day three with the first dot on my chart. So here's to me and my line graph taking obsession to the next level! Hooray!
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
You Can Probably Hear the Fat Lady Singing from There
It's official, I am NOT pregnant. Big surprise.
On the bright side, at least I don't have to worry what all that spotting meant (in regards to a pregnancy). And, if I teach this coming school year, this will give me one more month of school that I don't have to plan for a sub (since I would have been going on maternity leave mid-March). And, our daughter will be at least one month older and therefore more mature when the new baby arrives. See? Silver lining abounds!
But the best part is that I can return to one of my favorite pastimes: Mad Scientist. I can obsessively take my temperature every morning and record the numbers in my handy cycle tracking software. And I can make hypotheses about thinks like when I will ovulate, or if taking my temperature 5 minutes later than the morning before will throw off my calculations. I can stare at the cool little line graph the software makes and google things like, 'trying to conceive number two' and 'best intercourse positions for conception' and 'preseed'. Hours of fun!
On the bright side, at least I don't have to worry what all that spotting meant (in regards to a pregnancy). And, if I teach this coming school year, this will give me one more month of school that I don't have to plan for a sub (since I would have been going on maternity leave mid-March). And, our daughter will be at least one month older and therefore more mature when the new baby arrives. See? Silver lining abounds!
But the best part is that I can return to one of my favorite pastimes: Mad Scientist. I can obsessively take my temperature every morning and record the numbers in my handy cycle tracking software. And I can make hypotheses about thinks like when I will ovulate, or if taking my temperature 5 minutes later than the morning before will throw off my calculations. I can stare at the cool little line graph the software makes and google things like, 'trying to conceive number two' and 'best intercourse positions for conception' and 'preseed'. Hours of fun!
Monday, July 6, 2009
I'm Still an Asshole
My period still hasn't shown up and I am still spotting. Five consecutive days of spotting, what the fuck is that? And like more than a week before my period is due. If I am not pregnant, is something wrong with me? And if I am pregnant, what does all of this fucking spotting mean? I will surely worry about the pregnancy for the entire 40 weeks. Oh who am I kidding, I will worry for all eternity.
And my mind is like a veritable ping pong ball.... I am so emotional, I must be pregnant! No, asshole, you are emotional thanks to your new found obsession with getting pregnant. I feel nauseous, this must be morning sickness! No, asshole, you are nauseous from all of the stress you are putting on yourself obsessing over whether or not you are pregnant. I feel bloated, it's a sign! No, asshole, you feel bloated thanks to that greasy leftover eggplant in spicy garlic sauce.
And why why WHY does it always happen: when you are trying to get pregnant, you find out some pigface you used to go to high school with is pregnant?!!? Who in the fuck announces that they are pregnant via a Facebook status update anyway? Can you say douchtastic???? Well, hello world, let me just also announce that said Facebook fake-friend of mine also totally ripped one in 10th grade English class when she bent over to pick up her folder and then tried to deny it and people called her "Tater Cutter" and threw french fries at her in the cafeteria for weeks. Or maybe it ways days. Okay, I feel much better now. Yeah, I'm mature.
So anyway, back to me me me... At least I have not been out of my mind enough to actually take a pregnancy test. Everyday, I tell myself that my period is going to show up the next morning, but nope. Still, spotting is spotting and that is technically bleeding and who takes wastes a perfectly good name brand pregnancy test when they are fucking bleeding??!!!?? Only an asshole. But I really really really want to take a test, so I guess that makes me an asshole too.
Carry on...
And my mind is like a veritable ping pong ball.... I am so emotional, I must be pregnant! No, asshole, you are emotional thanks to your new found obsession with getting pregnant. I feel nauseous, this must be morning sickness! No, asshole, you are nauseous from all of the stress you are putting on yourself obsessing over whether or not you are pregnant. I feel bloated, it's a sign! No, asshole, you feel bloated thanks to that greasy leftover eggplant in spicy garlic sauce.
And why why WHY does it always happen: when you are trying to get pregnant, you find out some pigface you used to go to high school with is pregnant?!!? Who in the fuck announces that they are pregnant via a Facebook status update anyway? Can you say douchtastic???? Well, hello world, let me just also announce that said Facebook fake-friend of mine also totally ripped one in 10th grade English class when she bent over to pick up her folder and then tried to deny it and people called her "Tater Cutter" and threw french fries at her in the cafeteria for weeks. Or maybe it ways days. Okay, I feel much better now. Yeah, I'm mature.
So anyway, back to me me me... At least I have not been out of my mind enough to actually take a pregnancy test. Everyday, I tell myself that my period is going to show up the next morning, but nope. Still, spotting is spotting and that is technically bleeding and who takes wastes a perfectly good name brand pregnancy test when they are fucking bleeding??!!!?? Only an asshole. But I really really really want to take a test, so I guess that makes me an asshole too.
Carry on...
Thursday, July 2, 2009
With All of This Blind Faith I Should Start a New Religion
Consider yourself warned: If you are my husband or my brother's foxy coworker or anyone else that gets squeamish at impropriety, you should probably skip today's post.
So I am on day 20 of my cycle, and spotting again. First spotting was spotted at day 18, then the universe decided to fuck with me a little bit and stop the spotting for a day, and now it is back. And I am feeling cramps. I would say my period will show up tomorrow morning with her suitcase and a bundt cake with a "Fuck You" written in the glazed topping.
And why am I so pissed / depressed anyway? We aren't even supposed to be trying to get pregnant until next month. This was like a bonus round, a practice run if you will. And HELLO, who gets pregnant on the first try??!!?! No body would appreciate it if it were too easy. Gah, what the fuck is wrong with me???!!!!
Besides the fact that this looks like my body is telling me that I am not pregnant, I am pissed off that I would be starting my period on day 21 of my cycle. Dear Uterus, three weeks is not a proper fucking cycle! So now of course I am worried that something is wrong with me. How can a person possibly get pregnant if she gets her period three days after she ovulates? Fuck!
But, wouldn't you know it's true, hope springs eternal. I must be the biggest fucking asshole on the planet because I still think that maybe there is some chance that I could be pregnant. Yeah, my speed demon fertilized egg not only traveled down my fallopian tube at the speed of light, but must also be roughly the size of a soft ball because when it hurled itself into wall of my uterus it displaced enough of the lining to make it appear and feel as if I am getting my period. And my uterus must have also decided that it needed to enlarge by about 6000% in the last four hours to accommodate this ginormous soft ball, thus explaining the period like cramps.
Yeah, even though my uterine lining is CLEARLY falling out of my vagina, somewhere deep inside my pathetic little heart, I still believe that I could possibly be pregnant.
So I am on day 20 of my cycle, and spotting again. First spotting was spotted at day 18, then the universe decided to fuck with me a little bit and stop the spotting for a day, and now it is back. And I am feeling cramps. I would say my period will show up tomorrow morning with her suitcase and a bundt cake with a "Fuck You" written in the glazed topping.
And why am I so pissed / depressed anyway? We aren't even supposed to be trying to get pregnant until next month. This was like a bonus round, a practice run if you will. And HELLO, who gets pregnant on the first try??!!?! No body would appreciate it if it were too easy. Gah, what the fuck is wrong with me???!!!!
Besides the fact that this looks like my body is telling me that I am not pregnant, I am pissed off that I would be starting my period on day 21 of my cycle. Dear Uterus, three weeks is not a proper fucking cycle! So now of course I am worried that something is wrong with me. How can a person possibly get pregnant if she gets her period three days after she ovulates? Fuck!
But, wouldn't you know it's true, hope springs eternal. I must be the biggest fucking asshole on the planet because I still think that maybe there is some chance that I could be pregnant. Yeah, my speed demon fertilized egg not only traveled down my fallopian tube at the speed of light, but must also be roughly the size of a soft ball because when it hurled itself into wall of my uterus it displaced enough of the lining to make it appear and feel as if I am getting my period. And my uterus must have also decided that it needed to enlarge by about 6000% in the last four hours to accommodate this ginormous soft ball, thus explaining the period like cramps.
Yeah, even though my uterine lining is CLEARLY falling out of my vagina, somewhere deep inside my pathetic little heart, I still believe that I could possibly be pregnant.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Bloated Expectations
Those of you well versed in trying to get knocked up already know that I am the period of my joyous monthly cleansing cycle (yeah, I had a yoga instructor that called the women's cycle as such. I murdered him while he was doing gofuckyourself savasanah) that is referred to as the two week wait, or 2ww. Just so you know, the two week wait refers to the two weeks post ovulation in which you are waiting to NOT get your period.
Before I go off on some fertility/conception/pregnancy/parenthood acronym bitch fest, I would just like to say that I believe that post has been written and rehashed and pummeled into the ground. So I will not bore you. At least not that way.
So anyway, it may be hard to believe judging from my previous post, but this is actually the best part of your cycle if you are trying to get pregnant. At this point, you have done all you can do (punny!) and you can just relax (yeah right!) and let nature take it's course. And this is a time of hope... you don't know if you are pregnant, but there is no reason to believe you are not, so you can feel hopeful and excited. Maybe, maybe, maybe!!!
This is the time to think all your happy thoughts and daydream about life's possibilities. This is the time to talk about children's names with your husband, even though his response is, "Honey, I am trying to concentrate on breathing." Okay.... uhmmmm.... yeah, file that one under manslation.
Speaking of manslation, the husband and I were recently talking about the death of Michael Jackson and he (the husband, not Michael Jackson) admitted to not being very familiar with MJ's discography. However, he did say he liked that one song, "Billie Jean King". I swear, I can't make this shit up. Digressing!
I especially feel this hope and excitement just 4 days into the two week wait. Because no one is crazy enough to think of taking one of those early pregnancy tests just 4 days in. There is no WAY it could be positive even if you are pregnant. I know, I know, some wackadoo on immoreobsessedwithgettingpregnantthanyouaredotcom got a positive pregnancy test when she got up to go pee 5 seconds after she ovulated and had her way with her husband, but I am talking about the real world.
And at just 4 days in, I can even still tell myself that I will not test until I am late even though we all know that it will sound perfectly reasonable to pee on a $8 piece of plastic and cardboard a mere four days from now. But that's four days from now... that's an eternity!!
This is also the time when you could quite possibly be checked into a mental institution for hearing things and hallucinating, also known as: experiencing early pregnancy symptoms. Okay, come on people. Let's be rational. You do NOT have pregnancy symptoms when you are less than three weeks pregnant! But there are women who swear they do.
And I am one of them.
When I was pregnant the first time, I had this bloated feeling that began before I was even late, I swear. And it wasn't a normal bloat. (Are you still reading this?? Really???!?!) It was very distinctive. I didn't think anything of it at the time, and as you all know, or at least you do now, that pregnancy ended in an early miscarriage.
The second time I got pregnant, I tested positive three days after Thanksgiving, two days before my two week wait was over. But I knew I was pregnant Thanksgiving night. Riding home from my husband's sister's house, I felt that same distinct bloat and I thought to myself, "this is how I felt when I was pregnant last time... maybe...."
You are probably thinking I had too many helpings of pumpkin pie. But, I swear, I knew!
Okay, it probably IS coincidence, but that isn't stopping me from hoping I feel bloated in a few days.
Before I go off on some fertility/conception/pregnancy/parenthood acronym bitch fest, I would just like to say that I believe that post has been written and rehashed and pummeled into the ground. So I will not bore you. At least not that way.
So anyway, it may be hard to believe judging from my previous post, but this is actually the best part of your cycle if you are trying to get pregnant. At this point, you have done all you can do (punny!) and you can just relax (yeah right!) and let nature take it's course. And this is a time of hope... you don't know if you are pregnant, but there is no reason to believe you are not, so you can feel hopeful and excited. Maybe, maybe, maybe!!!
This is the time to think all your happy thoughts and daydream about life's possibilities. This is the time to talk about children's names with your husband, even though his response is, "Honey, I am trying to concentrate on breathing." Okay.... uhmmmm.... yeah, file that one under manslation.
Speaking of manslation, the husband and I were recently talking about the death of Michael Jackson and he (the husband, not Michael Jackson) admitted to not being very familiar with MJ's discography. However, he did say he liked that one song, "Billie Jean King". I swear, I can't make this shit up. Digressing!
I especially feel this hope and excitement just 4 days into the two week wait. Because no one is crazy enough to think of taking one of those early pregnancy tests just 4 days in. There is no WAY it could be positive even if you are pregnant. I know, I know, some wackadoo on immoreobsessedwithgettingpregnantthanyouaredotcom got a positive pregnancy test when she got up to go pee 5 seconds after she ovulated and had her way with her husband, but I am talking about the real world.
And at just 4 days in, I can even still tell myself that I will not test until I am late even though we all know that it will sound perfectly reasonable to pee on a $8 piece of plastic and cardboard a mere four days from now. But that's four days from now... that's an eternity!!
This is also the time when you could quite possibly be checked into a mental institution for hearing things and hallucinating, also known as: experiencing early pregnancy symptoms. Okay, come on people. Let's be rational. You do NOT have pregnancy symptoms when you are less than three weeks pregnant! But there are women who swear they do.
And I am one of them.
When I was pregnant the first time, I had this bloated feeling that began before I was even late, I swear. And it wasn't a normal bloat. (Are you still reading this?? Really???!?!) It was very distinctive. I didn't think anything of it at the time, and as you all know, or at least you do now, that pregnancy ended in an early miscarriage.
The second time I got pregnant, I tested positive three days after Thanksgiving, two days before my two week wait was over. But I knew I was pregnant Thanksgiving night. Riding home from my husband's sister's house, I felt that same distinct bloat and I thought to myself, "this is how I felt when I was pregnant last time... maybe...."
You are probably thinking I had too many helpings of pumpkin pie. But, I swear, I knew!
Okay, it probably IS coincidence, but that isn't stopping me from hoping I feel bloated in a few days.
Comments Flomments
Okay, so if I am going to leave the commenting option enabled on certain posts, I will commit to responding to your comments. Or half-heartedly acknowledging them. Or at least reading them. Kidding on that last one.
So anyway, if you DO comment, and if you DO give a shit about my response, click that "email comments to" blah blah blah button so you won't miss a scrap of my wit.
And just in case you forgot, this is my fucking blog, so I can write sorry ass self serving posts like this one if I want to.
So anyway, if you DO comment, and if you DO give a shit about my response, click that "email comments to" blah blah blah button so you won't miss a scrap of my wit.
And just in case you forgot, this is my fucking blog, so I can write sorry ass self serving posts like this one if I want to.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
The Second Time Around....
Dang you, Mom to Bee!!!! I guess maybe I might be back a little bit, kinda.
Before I get into my big explanation for returning, let me make some things clear: I am doing this for me now. No ads (so yeah, BlogHer, you can stop sending me those checks for zero dot zero zero dollars), no obsessing over hits and comments (but I will still peruse Google Anal Tics for funny search terms), and no shameless trolling for new readers (I am even considering getting all crazy and ::gasp:: deleting my blogroll).
In fact, I am turning comments off because although I may continue to read my favorite blogs, I probably won't be commenting on them... so I feel it's only right that I don't even have an insinuation of pressure for a reader to comment on my blog. It's nothing personal, it's just how I am trying to find balance. If you don't like it, stop reading my blog and buh-bye. And if something I have posted has stirred your soul so deeply that you just can resist giving me some feedback and feel like tearing your hair out because I have disabled the comment option, feel free to email me.
Of course I reserve the right to leave the comment option enabled on certain posts at my whim and fancy because, hello, this is my fucking blog. And I will leave the comment option on for this post so you can easily welcome me back or tell me what a selfish twat I am.
Now that that is out of the way, on to the good less-boring stuff...
The reason I am back? Well, I have embarked on an endeavor that will give me countless pages of self-absorbed posts: I am trying to get knocked up again. Most women I know get very obsessive and neurotic over trying to get pregnant and I am no exception. In fact, I kindof think I take the obsessing to a new level, but maybe every woman thinks this.
I was always jealous of the bloggers that starting blogging while they were trying to conceive, and then through their pregnancies, and on through their newborn days. I had journals here and there... several paper and one electronic...and little journal books and whatnot with ultrasound pics and fill in the blank type questions... even a dream journal.... but I always wished I had a centralized account of that whole period of my life. Now's my chance?
And then when a girlfriend of mine (a fellow mother who just happens to be 6 or so weeks pregnant with her second child) told me I should have a blog after a funny series of email messages, I thought that was a definite sign from the universe. So to catch you up to speed, and out of sheer laziness, I am going to share said email thread, edited as I see fit of course. This thread spans the course of several days and obviously my friend does not know I did have / do have a blog.
And thus we begin the chronicle of me attempting to get knocked up....
***
me: we haven't even done it yet, and i am obsessed with being pregnant. god help me. here's what's on my mind right now.... if I DO get pregnant today, that would mean technically I am two weeks pregnant right now. how's that sound for a FB status update?
friend: i'm still pooped from yesterday. you should be feeling some of that fatigue 2 weeks into your pregnancy too, which is why you're probably taking a nap now too.
me: my trip to target was a success... the first response 2 pack was on sale, as was the clear blue easy digital two pack, both around $7.99 each. and they made it into the house and tucked away in the bathroom cabinet undetected. maybe my child will be interested in this strange ritual in a couple of weeks and thus become potty trained via peeing on a stick intrigue.
friend: i was, again, unable to come up with a witty, yet not giving it away comeback to your fb post about target. i'm even afraid of posting fb status updates because i'm afraid of giving my not-news away. i keep thinking people who don't already know (which is most everyone) will put it together if i mention how i have overcome 33 years of a deep hatred for avocados and have made and eaten guacamole 3 times in the last 9 days and loved it.
regarding stick peeing, i did start to get obsessed with the amount of time and accuracy with which i was peeing on sticks and i switched over to peeing in a little cup, and i have to say the experience is a lot less stressful. that might have been a little bit TMI.
me: okay, so funny that you mentioned our due dates because i totally looked mine up last night... mar 20. i forgot to warn you how obsessive i am and the fact that i believe in "signs from the universe"... like the fact that the digital tests were on sale after we just had a conversation about me needing one to convince my husband when i am pregnant, that is totally a sign. and i took the fact that your child walked up to me at the library this morning and handed me a book titled "Are You My Mother?" as a sign as well. uhm, yeah, there have been more signs but i think i will stop now before i scare you. who needs to spend $$$ on stupid pregnancy tests when the universe is OBVIOUSLY letting me know i am pregnant??!?!
and speaking of obsessing, my current obsession is my luteal phase and the fact that it is too short. i am convinced that my body is not creating enough progesterone and therefore making my lp short which means even if i do have a fertilized egg it wont implant because my lining is not sufficient so i now want to go to walgreens as soon as my husband gets home and pick up some B6 and progesterone creme and killmenowihavetoomuchtimeonmyhandsandneed todisconnectmyinternetserviceoratleastdisablegoogle.
friend: oh my god, remind me i need to set up an rss feed to your blog. oh wait, you don't have a blog, but damn, i think you should, you are such a riot!
i have always obsessed about a short luteal phase and have been convinced both times while trying to conceive that that was why i wasn't conceiving. it happened again even on the one full cycle i had before getting knocked up this time. but then, it happened so i'm kind of thinking that maybe your body knows no conception happened and it just gives up a little early because it's like, "feh...".
me: blogging would cut into my Lost viewing time. and my looking up obscure pregnancy and conception related factiods on the internet.
speaking of, maybe we are not so crazy. spotted this morning on a forum: "Other than that...How many of you women out there have gotten pg by having {sex} in a shower? I see the chances as very slim, but my dh is hurting {in his back} so we are unable to do anything again this cycle... I can't imagine it actually working, seeing as I was sorta standing up, {sorry if TMI} plus the water factor. If anyone has ever experienced a pregnancy this or any other unusual way, please let me know...." uhm, okay. i do like the {sex} brackets, adds pizazz to your question i guess.
i forgot to say, the wonderful thing about the Internet is that if you search hard enough you can find support for any theory you want. like the fact that luteal phase defect is a myth. or that "implantation spotting" (what the fuck is that by the way? like a microscopic cell can make such a huge dent in your lining that you are going to start gushing enough blood that you could possibly confuse it for a period? what?!!!?) can occur 3 days past ovulation? because yeah, i started spotting this morning. on day FUCKING EIGHTEEN OF MY CYCLE. WHO HAS AN EIGHTEEN DAY CYCLE??????!!!!!!!?!?!?!????? FUCK!
so now i have convinced myself that it IS in fact implantation spotting but since it supposedly takes 3 days for your fertilized egg to travel down your fallopian tubes into your uterus, the egg has implanted in one of my tubes and i might die. either that or i have some super powered fertilized egg and it flew down my fallopian tube faster than the speed of light and it slammed into the lining of my uterus with such force that it caused some spotting. ON FUCKING DAY EIGHTEEN OF MY CYCLE! WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
***
So that's where I am at right now... 3 DPO, (at least according to my cycle tracking software, which I look at approximately 683 times per day thinking a window will magically pop up that says "Yes! You are pregnant!") and just waiting waiting waiting. Waiting for something to happen or not to happen. And the ironic thing is that the husband and I weren't even going to start trying for another baby until our daughter turns two.... which is only about 7 weeks from now, but really.
Tick tock tick tock tick tock. And I told myself I wouldn't obsess the second time around....
Before I get into my big explanation for returning, let me make some things clear: I am doing this for me now. No ads (so yeah, BlogHer, you can stop sending me those checks for zero dot zero zero dollars), no obsessing over hits and comments (but I will still peruse Google Anal Tics for funny search terms), and no shameless trolling for new readers (I am even considering getting all crazy and ::gasp:: deleting my blogroll).
In fact, I am turning comments off because although I may continue to read my favorite blogs, I probably won't be commenting on them... so I feel it's only right that I don't even have an insinuation of pressure for a reader to comment on my blog. It's nothing personal, it's just how I am trying to find balance. If you don't like it, stop reading my blog and buh-bye. And if something I have posted has stirred your soul so deeply that you just can resist giving me some feedback and feel like tearing your hair out because I have disabled the comment option, feel free to email me.
Of course I reserve the right to leave the comment option enabled on certain posts at my whim and fancy because, hello, this is my fucking blog. And I will leave the comment option on for this post so you can easily welcome me back or tell me what a selfish twat I am.
Now that that is out of the way, on to the good less-boring stuff...
The reason I am back? Well, I have embarked on an endeavor that will give me countless pages of self-absorbed posts: I am trying to get knocked up again. Most women I know get very obsessive and neurotic over trying to get pregnant and I am no exception. In fact, I kindof think I take the obsessing to a new level, but maybe every woman thinks this.
I was always jealous of the bloggers that starting blogging while they were trying to conceive, and then through their pregnancies, and on through their newborn days. I had journals here and there... several paper and one electronic...and little journal books and whatnot with ultrasound pics and fill in the blank type questions... even a dream journal.... but I always wished I had a centralized account of that whole period of my life. Now's my chance?
And then when a girlfriend of mine (a fellow mother who just happens to be 6 or so weeks pregnant with her second child) told me I should have a blog after a funny series of email messages, I thought that was a definite sign from the universe. So to catch you up to speed, and out of sheer laziness, I am going to share said email thread, edited as I see fit of course. This thread spans the course of several days and obviously my friend does not know I did have / do have a blog.
And thus we begin the chronicle of me attempting to get knocked up....
***
me: we haven't even done it yet, and i am obsessed with being pregnant. god help me. here's what's on my mind right now.... if I DO get pregnant today, that would mean technically I am two weeks pregnant right now. how's that sound for a FB status update?
friend: i'm still pooped from yesterday. you should be feeling some of that fatigue 2 weeks into your pregnancy too, which is why you're probably taking a nap now too.
me: my trip to target was a success... the first response 2 pack was on sale, as was the clear blue easy digital two pack, both around $7.99 each. and they made it into the house and tucked away in the bathroom cabinet undetected. maybe my child will be interested in this strange ritual in a couple of weeks and thus become potty trained via peeing on a stick intrigue.
friend: i was, again, unable to come up with a witty, yet not giving it away comeback to your fb post about target. i'm even afraid of posting fb status updates because i'm afraid of giving my not-news away. i keep thinking people who don't already know (which is most everyone) will put it together if i mention how i have overcome 33 years of a deep hatred for avocados and have made and eaten guacamole 3 times in the last 9 days and loved it.
regarding stick peeing, i did start to get obsessed with the amount of time and accuracy with which i was peeing on sticks and i switched over to peeing in a little cup, and i have to say the experience is a lot less stressful. that might have been a little bit TMI.
me: okay, so funny that you mentioned our due dates because i totally looked mine up last night... mar 20. i forgot to warn you how obsessive i am and the fact that i believe in "signs from the universe"... like the fact that the digital tests were on sale after we just had a conversation about me needing one to convince my husband when i am pregnant, that is totally a sign. and i took the fact that your child walked up to me at the library this morning and handed me a book titled "Are You My Mother?" as a sign as well. uhm, yeah, there have been more signs but i think i will stop now before i scare you. who needs to spend $$$ on stupid pregnancy tests when the universe is OBVIOUSLY letting me know i am pregnant??!?!
and speaking of obsessing, my current obsession is my luteal phase and the fact that it is too short. i am convinced that my body is not creating enough progesterone and therefore making my lp short which means even if i do have a fertilized egg it wont implant because my lining is not sufficient so i now want to go to walgreens as soon as my husband gets home and pick up some B6 and progesterone creme and killmenowihavetoomuchtimeonmyhandsandneed todisconnectmyinternetserviceoratleastdisablegoogle.
friend: oh my god, remind me i need to set up an rss feed to your blog. oh wait, you don't have a blog, but damn, i think you should, you are such a riot!
i have always obsessed about a short luteal phase and have been convinced both times while trying to conceive that that was why i wasn't conceiving. it happened again even on the one full cycle i had before getting knocked up this time. but then, it happened so i'm kind of thinking that maybe your body knows no conception happened and it just gives up a little early because it's like, "feh...".
me: blogging would cut into my Lost viewing time. and my looking up obscure pregnancy and conception related factiods on the internet.
speaking of, maybe we are not so crazy. spotted this morning on a forum: "Other than that...How many of you women out there have gotten pg by having {sex} in a shower? I see the chances as very slim, but my dh is hurting {in his back} so we are unable to do anything again this cycle... I can't imagine it actually working, seeing as I was sorta standing up, {sorry if TMI} plus the water factor. If anyone has ever experienced a pregnancy this or any other unusual way, please let me know...." uhm, okay. i do like the {sex} brackets, adds pizazz to your question i guess.
i forgot to say, the wonderful thing about the Internet is that if you search hard enough you can find support for any theory you want. like the fact that luteal phase defect is a myth. or that "implantation spotting" (what the fuck is that by the way? like a microscopic cell can make such a huge dent in your lining that you are going to start gushing enough blood that you could possibly confuse it for a period? what?!!!?) can occur 3 days past ovulation? because yeah, i started spotting this morning. on day FUCKING EIGHTEEN OF MY CYCLE. WHO HAS AN EIGHTEEN DAY CYCLE??????!!!!!!!?!?!?!????? FUCK!
so now i have convinced myself that it IS in fact implantation spotting but since it supposedly takes 3 days for your fertilized egg to travel down your fallopian tubes into your uterus, the egg has implanted in one of my tubes and i might die. either that or i have some super powered fertilized egg and it flew down my fallopian tube faster than the speed of light and it slammed into the lining of my uterus with such force that it caused some spotting. ON FUCKING DAY EIGHTEEN OF MY CYCLE! WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
***
So that's where I am at right now... 3 DPO, (at least according to my cycle tracking software, which I look at approximately 683 times per day thinking a window will magically pop up that says "Yes! You are pregnant!") and just waiting waiting waiting. Waiting for something to happen or not to happen. And the ironic thing is that the husband and I weren't even going to start trying for another baby until our daughter turns two.... which is only about 7 weeks from now, but really.
Tick tock tick tock tick tock. And I told myself I wouldn't obsess the second time around....
Thursday, May 21, 2009
The Life Cycle of Pearl... My Final Post
newborn – Oh gosh golly gee! This blogging stuff is fun! It’s just a matter of time before throngs of people flock to my blog and adore me for my wit and charisma!
infant – Why isn’t anyone reading my blog?
baby – I am so glad I finally figured out that I have to read and comment on other people’s blogs so they would come to mine. Hi, new found bloggy friends!
toddler – I finally figured out how to customize the image at the top of, eerrrr I mean header, of my blog. Fancy!
preschooler – If you leave a comment, does that mean I must add you to my blogroll?
kindergartner – SITS? What’s that? Isn’t that a type of bath you soak your junk in to relieve postpartum pain?
grade schooler – Wait a minute, all of these ingenious topics I get so excited about have already been hashed and rehashed by all of the parent bloggers that started blogging years ago. Maybe I am not so original after all?
tween – Whew! Good thing I found this Wordless Wednesday bullshit so I could get out of writing an actual post once a week. Heh heh heh.
teen angster – Man, fuck all these big-time bloggers who think they are so cool with their huge followings and their ads and their zillions of comments. I could be as big as Douche, too, if I wanted.
young adult – So I finally broke down and googled “blog template customization”. Ah-hah! Now my layout almost looks professional. Except for the part about not wanting to spring for a one of a kind graphic. No one is going to choose the same graphic as I did anyway, right?
twenty something – All right! Totally validated by blogher accepting my application for advertising. I must be doing something right! Maybe I should go to the next blogher conference???
thirty something – What? A company actually wants to sponsor a giveaway on my blog? I knew it, I AM important!!
midlife crisis – Dammit, I can’t keep up with this shit. Writing, reading, commenting, commenting on comments. Checking that stupid fake email account. I give up.
old age – I guess I’ll just keep phoning it in here. I’m not quitter, by golly!
elderly – I am going to write another post. Really. It’s in my drafts folder. I promise.
slow death – I am just going to go ahead and admit that reading people’s status updates and clicking the thumbs up button on Facebook fits much better with my personality and lifestyle. RIP Pearls of Wisdom!
Thank you to those of you who enough of a shit to come by and read my blog on a regular (or irregular!) basis. It’s been real, it’s been fun, and sometimes it was even really fun.
And since you cared enough to read this far, I "reward" you with my...
wait for it...
Facebook profile pic... Don't say I didn't warn you....
So long, farewell, auf wiedersehen, goodbye...
infant – Why isn’t anyone reading my blog?
baby – I am so glad I finally figured out that I have to read and comment on other people’s blogs so they would come to mine. Hi, new found bloggy friends!
toddler – I finally figured out how to customize the image at the top of, eerrrr I mean header, of my blog. Fancy!
preschooler – If you leave a comment, does that mean I must add you to my blogroll?
kindergartner – SITS? What’s that? Isn’t that a type of bath you soak your junk in to relieve postpartum pain?
grade schooler – Wait a minute, all of these ingenious topics I get so excited about have already been hashed and rehashed by all of the parent bloggers that started blogging years ago. Maybe I am not so original after all?
tween – Whew! Good thing I found this Wordless Wednesday bullshit so I could get out of writing an actual post once a week. Heh heh heh.
teen angster – Man, fuck all these big-time bloggers who think they are so cool with their huge followings and their ads and their zillions of comments. I could be as big as Douche, too, if I wanted.
young adult – So I finally broke down and googled “blog template customization”. Ah-hah! Now my layout almost looks professional. Except for the part about not wanting to spring for a one of a kind graphic. No one is going to choose the same graphic as I did anyway, right?
twenty something – All right! Totally validated by blogher accepting my application for advertising. I must be doing something right! Maybe I should go to the next blogher conference???
thirty something – What? A company actually wants to sponsor a giveaway on my blog? I knew it, I AM important!!
midlife crisis – Dammit, I can’t keep up with this shit. Writing, reading, commenting, commenting on comments. Checking that stupid fake email account. I give up.
old age – I guess I’ll just keep phoning it in here. I’m not quitter, by golly!
elderly – I am going to write another post. Really. It’s in my drafts folder. I promise.
slow death – I am just going to go ahead and admit that reading people’s status updates and clicking the thumbs up button on Facebook fits much better with my personality and lifestyle. RIP Pearls of Wisdom!
Thank you to those of you who enough of a shit to come by and read my blog on a regular (or irregular!) basis. It’s been real, it’s been fun, and sometimes it was even really fun.
And since you cared enough to read this far, I "reward" you with my...
wait for it...
Facebook profile pic... Don't say I didn't warn you....
So long, farewell, auf wiedersehen, goodbye...
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
I Suck
I suck. I can't keep up with my blog. Or yours.
Between being a mom, being a wife, working in the evenings, and keeping up with Rock of Love Tour Bus, I've got nothing left.
Whine, whine, whine. Sigh, sigh, sigh.
Shit! How do you guys do it??!?!
Between being a mom, being a wife, working in the evenings, and keeping up with Rock of Love Tour Bus, I've got nothing left.
Whine, whine, whine. Sigh, sigh, sigh.
Shit! How do you guys do it??!?!
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Dreams: My Baby and Old People
It seems like there is a lot of posting about dreams going on in the blogosphere, so I am going to jump on the bandwagon (see calicobebop and Ravings of a Mad Housewife if you want to check out some other freaky dreamers. Ooops, I mean freaky dreams). And I don't know why I am referring to these as "dreams" because "nightmares" would be a better description.
Dream Number 1:
About a week ago, I had a dream that I was driving with Baby strapped securely in her car seat. I had all four of the car windows rolled down (which never happens in real life, but whatever). I am stopped at a red light and an old man proceeds to reach in the window and pluck Baby out of her car seat in all of .25 seconds. Now, all parents know that it takes a seasoned veteran at least 90 seconds to unbuckle a car seat (thank you five point harness) and it takes a grandparent about 2 1/2 hours to complete this task (because about 2 hours and 15 minutes are spent debating the necessity of car seats and how, back in the good ole days, we just put the babies in a Moses basket in the floorboard and galldangit that was good enough for us!)
So anyway, Gramps grabs Baby and takes off running. Of course I jump out of the car and run after him. He doesn't get very far before he changes direction and starts running towards me. All of the sudden, he decides to throw Baby at me. She lands on the ground but is seemingly unscathed.
At this point, a crowd has formed. There are some other elderly people in the crowd and one of them is carrying a cane. I scoop up Baby, grab the cane and proceed to beat the shit out of old man that snatched her. For some reason, every time I hit him, I feel like I just can't seem to make good contact or that I am just not hitting him hard enough.
The End
Dream Number 2:
Baby and I are walking along the waterfront as we do in real life just about every day that the weather is nice. Baby has her dog-on-wheels, Woody (hey, it's a wooden dog), which she also loves to "walk" in real life.
Baby is straggling behind me as toddlers are known to do, so after a few minutes of waiting for her to catch up I do that Parenting 101 trick of pretending to leave her behind. This never works in real life with Baby, she usually just waves to be and happily says "bye-bye!" She is probably thinking, "Good riddance woman! It's about time I had some private time around here!" Anyway, back to the dream.
Baby continues to straggle and the old people around us start making comments as they are known to do, "oh, somebody doesn't want to walk with mommy!" or "somebody isn't happy today, tsk tsk tsk." All of the sudden, Baby takes off toward me in a sprint. She runs right past me, Woody in tow, and is headed for the railing that separates us from the water. Without breaking stride, she throws one leg up over the railing and hops into the water.
At some point here the beautiful sunny day has turned to a pitch black night and the normally pretty clear water is murky and muddy. But as I look down at Baby as she jumped into the water, she looks up and me and smiles a big, toothy, open-mouthed smile. Even though this isn't humanly possible, I lean over the railing and pull Baby (who is still holding onto Woody) up out of the water. I proceed to totally freak out on her, yelling at her that what she did was not okay, etc, etc, etc. Then I spank her bottom. Of course she cries and I feel like total crap.
The End
Sweet dreams, huh?
Now, can somebody please tell me why I am having these lose and rescue dreams about Baby and why do they involve old people?
Dream Number 1:
About a week ago, I had a dream that I was driving with Baby strapped securely in her car seat. I had all four of the car windows rolled down (which never happens in real life, but whatever). I am stopped at a red light and an old man proceeds to reach in the window and pluck Baby out of her car seat in all of .25 seconds. Now, all parents know that it takes a seasoned veteran at least 90 seconds to unbuckle a car seat (thank you five point harness) and it takes a grandparent about 2 1/2 hours to complete this task (because about 2 hours and 15 minutes are spent debating the necessity of car seats and how, back in the good ole days, we just put the babies in a Moses basket in the floorboard and galldangit that was good enough for us!)
So anyway, Gramps grabs Baby and takes off running. Of course I jump out of the car and run after him. He doesn't get very far before he changes direction and starts running towards me. All of the sudden, he decides to throw Baby at me. She lands on the ground but is seemingly unscathed.
At this point, a crowd has formed. There are some other elderly people in the crowd and one of them is carrying a cane. I scoop up Baby, grab the cane and proceed to beat the shit out of old man that snatched her. For some reason, every time I hit him, I feel like I just can't seem to make good contact or that I am just not hitting him hard enough.
The End
Dream Number 2:
Baby and I are walking along the waterfront as we do in real life just about every day that the weather is nice. Baby has her dog-on-wheels, Woody (hey, it's a wooden dog), which she also loves to "walk" in real life.
Baby is straggling behind me as toddlers are known to do, so after a few minutes of waiting for her to catch up I do that Parenting 101 trick of pretending to leave her behind. This never works in real life with Baby, she usually just waves to be and happily says "bye-bye!" She is probably thinking, "Good riddance woman! It's about time I had some private time around here!" Anyway, back to the dream.
Baby continues to straggle and the old people around us start making comments as they are known to do, "oh, somebody doesn't want to walk with mommy!" or "somebody isn't happy today, tsk tsk tsk." All of the sudden, Baby takes off toward me in a sprint. She runs right past me, Woody in tow, and is headed for the railing that separates us from the water. Without breaking stride, she throws one leg up over the railing and hops into the water.
At some point here the beautiful sunny day has turned to a pitch black night and the normally pretty clear water is murky and muddy. But as I look down at Baby as she jumped into the water, she looks up and me and smiles a big, toothy, open-mouthed smile. Even though this isn't humanly possible, I lean over the railing and pull Baby (who is still holding onto Woody) up out of the water. I proceed to totally freak out on her, yelling at her that what she did was not okay, etc, etc, etc. Then I spank her bottom. Of course she cries and I feel like total crap.
The End
Sweet dreams, huh?
Now, can somebody please tell me why I am having these lose and rescue dreams about Baby and why do they involve old people?
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Wordless Wednesday: My Facebook Profile Pic
Please!!! You didn't think I was really posting my Facebook profile pic did you??!?!!!?
Instead, you must make due with my startlingly adorable daughter and a couple of calla lilies from our yard:
Monday, March 9, 2009
True Confessions Tuesday: I Hate My Blog
I hate my blog. There, I said it.
Wait, you are probably thinking this is going to be that post where I whine about my trials and tribulations as a struggling writer... how I don't have time or energy or inspiration to blog... how I am not good enough, smart, enough, or doggonit people don't like me. Ooops, sorry to disappoint.
No, this is just a shallow-ass post about how I hate my blog's appearance.
Where do I start?
1. I hate the fact that the picture in my header and the cropped version of it that I use as my avatar is something I hastily purchased from iStockphoto. I have seen different versions of this picture pop up on blogs and websites here and there and although it irritates me, there is not really much I can do about it. Except maybe be flattered that someone else thought it was a cool picture.
2. I hate that the layout of my blog is nothing more than a rearrangement of blogspot's Minima template. Really all I did was widen some margins and slap a homemade banner up there. Presto-chango, Wal-mart style customization!!
3. I hate that my blog only has two columns. Waaaaaaaaaah! I want three!!!!
4. I hate that I am too much of a chicken shit to use my face and my real name (what, come on, you didn't think my real name was Pearl Wisdom did you???), but I don't seem to have a problem plastering my baby's face all over the place.
5. I kinda hate that I don't have my own domain name or whateveryoucallit and that I am using blogspot rather than wordpress. It seems like all of the "legit" bloggers follow these two rules, but I won't even begin to pretend that I fancy myself to be legit.
6. I hate that I don't have the money to pay a professional to redesign my blog, or thetime patience to figure it out myself.
7. I hate that I even give a shit about what my blog looks like since it is about the writing after all. Isn't it?
Wait, you are probably thinking this is going to be that post where I whine about my trials and tribulations as a struggling writer... how I don't have time or energy or inspiration to blog... how I am not good enough, smart, enough, or doggonit people don't like me. Ooops, sorry to disappoint.
No, this is just a shallow-ass post about how I hate my blog's appearance.
Where do I start?
1. I hate the fact that the picture in my header and the cropped version of it that I use as my avatar is something I hastily purchased from iStockphoto. I have seen different versions of this picture pop up on blogs and websites here and there and although it irritates me, there is not really much I can do about it. Except maybe be flattered that someone else thought it was a cool picture.
2. I hate that the layout of my blog is nothing more than a rearrangement of blogspot's Minima template. Really all I did was widen some margins and slap a homemade banner up there. Presto-chango, Wal-mart style customization!!
3. I hate that my blog only has two columns. Waaaaaaaaaah! I want three!!!!
4. I hate that I am too much of a chicken shit to use my face and my real name (what, come on, you didn't think my real name was Pearl Wisdom did you???), but I don't seem to have a problem plastering my baby's face all over the place.
5. I kinda hate that I don't have my own domain name or whateveryoucallit and that I am using blogspot rather than wordpress. It seems like all of the "legit" bloggers follow these two rules, but I won't even begin to pretend that I fancy myself to be legit.
6. I hate that I don't have the money to pay a professional to redesign my blog, or the
7. I hate that I even give a shit about what my blog looks like since it is about the writing after all. Isn't it?
Friday, March 6, 2009
Yet Another Facebook Post
Does anyone besides me find it odd that there seems to be a lot of blogging about Facebook? There is just something about it I can't put my finger on... it is like Twittering about instant messaging or something. Anyway...
I just have to say that I am not above searching Facebook for names of people I know or have known just to check out their profile picture, and maybe even rifle through their list of friends. These would be people that I have no intention of adding as a friend, it's all done out of pure nosiness. And I am okay with that. And c'mon... I know I am not the only one who does this.
Well, after viewing countless Facebook profile pictures, I have developed a theory that you can tell a lot by a person just by the profile picture they choose for Facebook. I mean, people know that the profile picture they choose is going to be the "face" they choose to show to the world, so let's not try to act like this is a decision made flippantly. It's just that some choices definitely make a person go"what the FUCK??!?!" "huh??!?!?"Let me know if you agree:
Childhood Picture: I think I am being cool in a retro-y sort of way, but I am really just fat now and don't want all of my old high school classmates to know about it.
Wedding Picture: This is the prettiest I have ever looked because I had a makeup artist and hair stylist, I starved myself for six weeks prior to my wedding, and this picture was professionally retouched.
Fakey Smiling Snapshot with One or Both Arms Jutting Awkwardly Out of the Picture: I took this picture myself and I obviously don't know how to work the timer on my digital camera.
Picture of my Kid(s) instead of Myself: I have no identity other than Mommy and all of my status updates will revolve around every mundane detail of motherhood.
Family Picture: I am either too old to be using Facebook in the first place or I want everyone (including the people that are just nosing around but not actually requesting my friendship) to see what a good looking family I have.
No Picture: I created a Facebook profile to simply stalk an ex or nose around other people's profiles as much as possible, but I don't have any intention of actually using Facebook.
Sexy / Studly Picture: I am either single or newly divorced, but I want to make sure everyone knows that this is not because I am a dog. It is possibly because I am an egomaniac.
Professional Portrait Picture: I am not taking any chances at screwing this up... Even if this Olan Mills shot it totally cheesy.
Have I left anything off the list???
I just have to say that I am not above searching Facebook for names of people I know or have known just to check out their profile picture, and maybe even rifle through their list of friends. These would be people that I have no intention of adding as a friend, it's all done out of pure nosiness. And I am okay with that. And c'mon... I know I am not the only one who does this.
Well, after viewing countless Facebook profile pictures, I have developed a theory that you can tell a lot by a person just by the profile picture they choose for Facebook. I mean, people know that the profile picture they choose is going to be the "face" they choose to show to the world, so let's not try to act like this is a decision made flippantly. It's just that some choices definitely make a person go
Childhood Picture: I think I am being cool in a retro-y sort of way, but I am really just fat now and don't want all of my old high school classmates to know about it.
Wedding Picture: This is the prettiest I have ever looked because I had a makeup artist and hair stylist, I starved myself for six weeks prior to my wedding, and this picture was professionally retouched.
Fakey Smiling Snapshot with One or Both Arms Jutting Awkwardly Out of the Picture: I took this picture myself and I obviously don't know how to work the timer on my digital camera.
Picture of my Kid(s) instead of Myself: I have no identity other than Mommy and all of my status updates will revolve around every mundane detail of motherhood.
Family Picture: I am either too old to be using Facebook in the first place or I want everyone (including the people that are just nosing around but not actually requesting my friendship) to see what a good looking family I have.
No Picture: I created a Facebook profile to simply stalk an ex or nose around other people's profiles as much as possible, but I don't have any intention of actually using Facebook.
Sexy / Studly Picture: I am either single or newly divorced, but I want to make sure everyone knows that this is not because I am a dog. It is possibly because I am an egomaniac.
Professional Portrait Picture: I am not taking any chances at screwing this up... Even if this Olan Mills shot it totally cheesy.
Have I left anything off the list???
Thursday, March 5, 2009
But You Can Still Nominate Me For What Not To Wear
We all know that I am fashionably challenged, or at least I have been as of late. Add "neglect my personal appearance" to the list of things I said I would never EVAR do as a mom.
Part of the reason for this neglect is, I entered the fashion vacuum also known as motherhood, about 18 months ago. Not to mention it's black hole predecessor: maternity wear. But I must admit there is another reason, a BIG reason, for my lack of personal presentation lately. (Does the past two + years fall into the category of lately?)
I like to be comfortable. Really comfortable. Really, really, comfortable.
And in order to maintain my comfort, I must sacrifice looking put together and stylish. Why? Well, my rules for comfort are as follows:
1. Shoes = sneakers. Flats worn without socks make my feet clammy. Heels? Uh no, heels are so not comfortable. In fact, any shoe with a sole hard enough to make the clack-clack sound when I walk is not going to cut it. I am the girl who thinks a pair of black converse can pass for dress shoes because, helllooooo, they're black. And don't talk to me about the Uggs people. It is about to heat up here in California and I am not going to drop $200+ on a pair of boots with the fur.
2. Pants = jeans, cords, or yoga pants. And if I am being really honest, jeans and cords aren't really all that comfortable to me.... I just feel like a major shlumpadinka leaving the house in my yoga pants.
No big deal so far, right? A girl can still look cute and put together in some jeans and trendy sneaks, right? Well, I agree, but it seems like my biggest road block is the shirt...
3. Shirt = t-shirt. Well, it doesn't have to be a t-shirt, but it has to be made out of t-shirt material. As much as I have tried, and as much as my Goodwill give away pile will attest to, I just can't do any shirt that is not some form of or variation on the t-shirt. Synthetic fabric? Bleh, it makes me writhe, and if I do wear it, I rip it off and throw on a t-shirt as soon as I get home. Woven fabric? Nope. No matter how "stretchy" it is, I feel like I am wearing a straight jacket. So most cute blouses are out for me. Silk and silk-like flimsy rayon-y flowy things? Ugh, I feel like I am constantly smoothing and adjusting and sucking in and straightening.
Do I have some kind of disorder?
Anyway, I am sick of wearing jeans and a t-shirt day in and day out, over and over and over and over again. I would like to look a little ... uhm.... nicer?
So hallelujah and praise sweet baby jesus when I went to Target this week and found...
not one,
not two,
Part of the reason for this neglect is, I entered the fashion vacuum also known as motherhood, about 18 months ago. Not to mention it's black hole predecessor: maternity wear. But I must admit there is another reason, a BIG reason, for my lack of personal presentation lately. (Does the past two + years fall into the category of lately?)
I like to be comfortable. Really comfortable. Really, really, comfortable.
And in order to maintain my comfort, I must sacrifice looking put together and stylish. Why? Well, my rules for comfort are as follows:
1. Shoes = sneakers. Flats worn without socks make my feet clammy. Heels? Uh no, heels are so not comfortable. In fact, any shoe with a sole hard enough to make the clack-clack sound when I walk is not going to cut it. I am the girl who thinks a pair of black converse can pass for dress shoes because, helllooooo, they're black. And don't talk to me about the Uggs people. It is about to heat up here in California and I am not going to drop $200+ on a pair of boots with the fur.
2. Pants = jeans, cords, or yoga pants. And if I am being really honest, jeans and cords aren't really all that comfortable to me.... I just feel like a major shlumpadinka leaving the house in my yoga pants.
No big deal so far, right? A girl can still look cute and put together in some jeans and trendy sneaks, right? Well, I agree, but it seems like my biggest road block is the shirt...
3. Shirt = t-shirt. Well, it doesn't have to be a t-shirt, but it has to be made out of t-shirt material. As much as I have tried, and as much as my Goodwill give away pile will attest to, I just can't do any shirt that is not some form of or variation on the t-shirt. Synthetic fabric? Bleh, it makes me writhe, and if I do wear it, I rip it off and throw on a t-shirt as soon as I get home. Woven fabric? Nope. No matter how "stretchy" it is, I feel like I am wearing a straight jacket. So most cute blouses are out for me. Silk and silk-like flimsy rayon-y flowy things? Ugh, I feel like I am constantly smoothing and adjusting and sucking in and straightening.
Do I have some kind of disorder?
Anyway, I am sick of wearing jeans and a t-shirt day in and day out, over and over and over and over again. I would like to look a little ... uhm.... nicer?
So hallelujah and praise sweet baby jesus when I went to Target this week and found...
not one,
not two,
but THREEEEEEEEE
tops that look like they could fall in the category of blouse (for lack of a better word... hey, shut up I told you I was fashionably challenged. I know "blouse" is probably as anachronistic as "rouge" but whatever.), but they are made out of t-shirt material! (Well, actually I found four tops, but the fourth is nothing but a glorified long sleeve t-shirt. Hey, old habits die hard.) Yes, as you can see, they are cut like blouses but they feel like t-shirts!
AND, they are long enough to cover my plumber's crack. AND they are shaped in such a way that they hide my bicycle tire. AND now I can go to play dates and book club meetings without feeling like a shmuck, overdressed, or //gasp// uncomfortable. WOW! What more could a girl ask for?
Three tops do not a makeover, uhm, make... but, hey, it's a start. Now, if someone can just convince Mr. Blahnik to design a pair of sneakers....
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Wordless Wednesday: You Scream, I Scream, We All Scream For...
For clarity, this is my DAUGHTER (the hairless wonder) eating ICE CREAM (even though mama bee would have you think otherwise...)Sunday, March 1, 2009
Dear MOMs Club,
I can't really send this letter, so I am going to share it with all of you. Well, I guess I could send this letter but I don't have the balls.
Dear MOMs Club,
Please cancel my membership, effective immediately. Sadly, the handful of douchebags that post annoying crap on our Yahoo group has driven me to the brink of sanity, hence, the following message. (I assure you that there are several people that know me well that may attest to the fact that I am not as big of a fucking lunatic is this is about to make me sound like, but whatever.)
Tanya: I dont really know you, but based on your MOMs Club Newsletter Member Spotlight (that you wrote yourself) alone, I think you are a total wack-job. I mean really, have you ever heard the expression "too much information"? That being said, I dont think you deserve all of the nitpicking and harassment that you have shouldered in your year as our MOMs club president. I think that there are a handful of people that dont like you and these people have decided to pick on almost everything that you do as president. I think their behavior is shameful, transparent, and immature. Because of them, I feel like I have become witness to some sort of Salem witch trial. I wouldn't be surprised if one of them suggests adding "hold Tanya under water to see if she drowns" to the next meeting agenda.
Ramie: I dont even know where to begin with you. The messages you post to the group are so acidic, I fear my laptop is going to melt just by displaying them. It is obvious that you hate Tanya and want everyone else in the MOMs club to hate Tanya as well, so why dont you save yourself and everyone reading your messages some time and just post a weekly message that states something this affect: "I HATE TANYA".
Beccalynn: I am not sure how you fit into all of this other than you just basically get on my fucking nerves. Every in-person interaction I have had with you has left me feeling like you are either a) an android that does not experience human emotions b) a miserable bitch that wants everyone else to me miserable too or c) are confusing me with a window as you stare straight through me with a blank expression of slight disdain. However, you dont seem to have a problem in calling me up to sugary-sweetly sing song ask me to host coffee morning or attempt to ply me with your saccharin-sweet insincere compliments in attempt to rope me into running for a seat on the MOMs club board. To top it all off, the public brown nosing you do on the Yahoo group has seriously got to stop. I can only take so much of you telling someone how AWESOME she is or what a GREAT JOB she has done or how she is a FANTASTIC mother. Your falseness seriously makes me want to barf. But maybe I should put this in your format so you will understand what I am trying to say: Beccalynn, you are INCREDIBLY ANNOYING and FAKE and I seriously wish you would just SHUT THE FUCK UP!
And last but not least, to the masses that feel the need to hit "reply all" or post messages to the entire club under inappropriate circumstances: If you want to volunteer for In A Pinch, by all means, please do. But the whole goddamn club doenst need to hear about it. The same goes for replying to everyone to let one person know that you are going to drop off plastic grass for an Easter basket or that you are going to donate $5 for a gift card. It is plainly obvious that the people that use the "reply all" option in these circumstances do so to make sure that everyone in the club sees how involved/generous/saintly they are and they are probably secretly hoping for a "rah-rah-rah you are such an AWESOME person" response from our resident cheerleader. Next time, ask yourself: would I still be volunteering to _____ if no one were to ever find out about it?
The fact that a very small percentage of MOMs club members post regularly on the Yahoo group makes me think that the majority of the the MOMs club are reasonably sane and drama avoiding women. But the few of you that do smear your bullshit all over the place have completely ruined the club for me, so I am out.
Good-bye and good luck,
Pearl
Dear MOMs Club,
Please cancel my membership, effective immediately. Sadly, the handful of douchebags that post annoying crap on our Yahoo group has driven me to the brink of sanity, hence, the following message. (I assure you that there are several people that know me well that may attest to the fact that I am not as big of a fucking lunatic is this is about to make me sound like, but whatever.)
Tanya: I dont really know you, but based on your MOMs Club Newsletter Member Spotlight (that you wrote yourself) alone, I think you are a total wack-job. I mean really, have you ever heard the expression "too much information"? That being said, I dont think you deserve all of the nitpicking and harassment that you have shouldered in your year as our MOMs club president. I think that there are a handful of people that dont like you and these people have decided to pick on almost everything that you do as president. I think their behavior is shameful, transparent, and immature. Because of them, I feel like I have become witness to some sort of Salem witch trial. I wouldn't be surprised if one of them suggests adding "hold Tanya under water to see if she drowns" to the next meeting agenda.
Ramie: I dont even know where to begin with you. The messages you post to the group are so acidic, I fear my laptop is going to melt just by displaying them. It is obvious that you hate Tanya and want everyone else in the MOMs club to hate Tanya as well, so why dont you save yourself and everyone reading your messages some time and just post a weekly message that states something this affect: "I HATE TANYA".
Beccalynn: I am not sure how you fit into all of this other than you just basically get on my fucking nerves. Every in-person interaction I have had with you has left me feeling like you are either a) an android that does not experience human emotions b) a miserable bitch that wants everyone else to me miserable too or c) are confusing me with a window as you stare straight through me with a blank expression of slight disdain. However, you dont seem to have a problem in calling me up to sugary-sweetly sing song ask me to host coffee morning or attempt to ply me with your saccharin-sweet insincere compliments in attempt to rope me into running for a seat on the MOMs club board. To top it all off, the public brown nosing you do on the Yahoo group has seriously got to stop. I can only take so much of you telling someone how AWESOME she is or what a GREAT JOB she has done or how she is a FANTASTIC mother. Your falseness seriously makes me want to barf. But maybe I should put this in your format so you will understand what I am trying to say: Beccalynn, you are INCREDIBLY ANNOYING and FAKE and I seriously wish you would just SHUT THE FUCK UP!
And last but not least, to the masses that feel the need to hit "reply all" or post messages to the entire club under inappropriate circumstances: If you want to volunteer for In A Pinch, by all means, please do. But the whole goddamn club doenst need to hear about it. The same goes for replying to everyone to let one person know that you are going to drop off plastic grass for an Easter basket or that you are going to donate $5 for a gift card. It is plainly obvious that the people that use the "reply all" option in these circumstances do so to make sure that everyone in the club sees how involved/generous/saintly they are and they are probably secretly hoping for a "rah-rah-rah you are such an AWESOME person" response from our resident cheerleader. Next time, ask yourself: would I still be volunteering to _____ if no one were to ever find out about it?
The fact that a very small percentage of MOMs club members post regularly on the Yahoo group makes me think that the majority of the the MOMs club are reasonably sane and drama avoiding women. But the few of you that do smear your bullshit all over the place have completely ruined the club for me, so I am out.
Good-bye and good luck,
Pearl
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Pearl's Pearls: This Should be Your Biggest Problem in Life
I wish I could tell you that I am typing this post from a brand new electronicy smelling laptop with a virgin-like hard drive and a baby fingerprintless screen. However, instead of spending the almost two grand it would cost for me to get what I want in a new laptop (who wants to buy something if it's not exactly what she wants?!!?), I opted to attempt to resurrect the one I have since I do have somewhat of a technical background and somewhat of a three digit bank account balance. Without boring you to death with a bunch of technical mumbo jumbo, let's just say I gave my laptop a day at the spa and gigantic band-aid.
So here I am, posting away. For now.
Of course the whole time my laptop has been out of commission, I have been utterly distressed because we all know that human beings cannot exist without the intarwebs. I also had to double up on my meds for fear of sinking into a deep depression without contact from the people inside my computer.
But every time my personal sympathy violins started to play, I could hear my mother's voice in my head spouting off another one of her infamous sayings: Well this should be your biggest problem in life!
You can imagine how handy this little expression must have been for my mother while raising a dramatic everything-is-the-end-of-the-world teenager like myself. Now that I am older, I honestly do see the value and truth behind it though.
Pretty much any time I am in a position of feeling sorry for myself (for something trivial... or even not so trivial... but really, most of the time the shit I am whining about is pretty trivial), this little phrase will pop into my head. And I must admit, mom is right. If the worst thing that ever happens to me in my life is that my computer gets the herp (thank you mama bee) or they run out of my favorite brand of cereal at the grocery store, then I would say I am doing pretty well.
So, thank you mom for reminding me of this. Even if it is in your depressing, cynical Jewish martyr sort of way. Now if you will excuse me, I have about a months worth of blog reading and commenting to catch up on.
So here I am, posting away. For now.
Of course the whole time my laptop has been out of commission, I have been utterly distressed because we all know that human beings cannot exist without the intarwebs. I also had to double up on my meds for fear of sinking into a deep depression without contact from the people inside my computer.
But every time my personal sympathy violins started to play, I could hear my mother's voice in my head spouting off another one of her infamous sayings: Well this should be your biggest problem in life!
You can imagine how handy this little expression must have been for my mother while raising a dramatic everything-is-the-end-of-the-world teenager like myself. Now that I am older, I honestly do see the value and truth behind it though.
Pretty much any time I am in a position of feeling sorry for myself (for something trivial... or even not so trivial... but really, most of the time the shit I am whining about is pretty trivial), this little phrase will pop into my head. And I must admit, mom is right. If the worst thing that ever happens to me in my life is that my computer gets the herp (thank you mama bee) or they run out of my favorite brand of cereal at the grocery store, then I would say I am doing pretty well.
So, thank you mom for reminding me of this. Even if it is in your depressing, cynical Jewish martyr sort of way. Now if you will excuse me, I have about a months worth of blog reading and commenting to catch up on.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Lost: Pearls of Wisdom Style...
Thank you to those of you who have inquired about my absence from the blogosphere! This post will unfortunately be brief and lacking in the usual wit and entertainment you have become accustomed to here at Pearls of Wisdom (HA!). I would like to whine a lot more as well, but the clock is ticking.
Sorry to disappoint, but my absence over the last few weeks is thanks to nothing more interesting than a dieing laptop (and a dead wallet, which means my options for a remedy are extremely limited). Writing posts? Highly irritating. Reading other blogs and commenting on them? Almost impossible.
I could go to my local library to compose a better post, but they don't seem to like it when a Tasmanian devil disguised as an adorable 18 month old recreates the Dewey decimal system to her liking and runs around the stacks screaming at the top of her lungs. Go figure.
I don't know what is more agonizing: not being able to post or not being able to read my favorite blogs and comment on them. Oh fuck, who am I kidding? The most agonizing part of my exile from bloggyland is not being able to bask in your comment love.
I shant tempt the gods of Windows any longer... I better hit 'publish post' before yet another post disappears into the abyss. In the words of our esteemed governator.... The best activities for your health are pumping and humping. You thought I was going to say I'll be back, didn't you???
Sorry to disappoint, but my absence over the last few weeks is thanks to nothing more interesting than a dieing laptop (and a dead wallet, which means my options for a remedy are extremely limited). Writing posts? Highly irritating. Reading other blogs and commenting on them? Almost impossible.
I could go to my local library to compose a better post, but they don't seem to like it when a Tasmanian devil disguised as an adorable 18 month old recreates the Dewey decimal system to her liking and runs around the stacks screaming at the top of her lungs. Go figure.
I don't know what is more agonizing: not being able to post or not being able to read my favorite blogs and comment on them. Oh fuck, who am I kidding? The most agonizing part of my exile from bloggyland is not being able to bask in your comment love.
I shant tempt the gods of Windows any longer... I better hit 'publish post' before yet another post disappears into the abyss. In the words of our esteemed governator.... The best activities for your health are pumping and humping. You thought I was going to say I'll be back, didn't you???
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